Sanctuary (Dominion) (38 page)

“No good man resides within the walls of this fort, Ruark. None who protect the sorcerer, that is. If you defend him, then you are weak, easily coerced, and not long for this world. Abandon him to his fate, and you may live long enough to make up for that mistake.”

“Who is this?” Ruark frowned and looked to Cullach. “You have others speaking for you now, Cullach? Can’t even insult me on your own?”

“This man doesn’t speak for me,” Cullach said. “He has his own vendetta. Fortunately, it coincides with mine.”

Ruark waved over one of his men, carrying a short bow. "Kill him. Make it slow." The bowman nodded, nocked an arrow and aimed at Arkael, who remained where he was, his expression unflinching.

The Irishman loosed his arrow, and I recoiled in fear as it landed on the ground behind Arkael, having missed his shoulder by a hand’s width. Arkael never moved though. He just stared back at Ruark. Some of the men on the wall laughed, and taunted the bowman as he pulled out another arrow. He fired again, only this one flew true… straight for Arkael's chest.

A blur of silver whirled through the air, and before anyone could even register what they'd seen, fragments of the arrow scattered across the ground around Arkael’s feet. He brought his sword back down to his side, and the laughter on the walls abruptly stopped.

“Christ!” one of them muttered. “Did he just do that?”

"Shut up!" Ruark growled. “Shoot him again!” The bowman, who seemed apprehensive now, readied another arrow. He fired, and again it ended up in pieces. "Again!" Ruark was red faced, and his men were visibly shocked, some making the sign of the cross over their chest, others backing up from the wall. The bowman fired once more, with the same result, and by now he watched Ruark more than Arkael, dreading the call to keep firing away.

Ruark visibly collected himself, then whispered to a man standing next to him, who ran down the wall and disappeared behind it.

“What do you call yourself?” Ruark asked.

“I am Arkael.”

"Well, Arkael, I am a reasonable man. You want us to open the gate and let you pass? Then I shall open the gate and let you pass."

"It might be a trap," I whispered.

"It is a trap," he said.

The heavy wooden gate opened slowly, and at least a dozen of Ruark's men waited just inside. One of them beckoned him in, and the men separated, creating a path for him to enter.

"Wait here," Arkael said without even looking at me. He strode forward, with no sign of concern, while Ruark smiled down on him from the wall. The air, which had pushed and pulled at us all night, became still, and I heard no sound from Cullach’s men behind me, or Ruark’s men in front. The world came to a stop, and we all watched in silent, uneasy anticipation, as Arkael walked down the beaten dirt path leading to the gate.

He moved through the doorway, and as he passed each man, their hands slid to the hilt of their swords. Arkael didn’t stop, though. He walked right into the middle of those dogs. And when the Irishman at the door began to close it again, he smiled at those of us still outside, thinking us to be the fools.

Before the door closed, I heard swords come free of their scabbards. Metal clanged on metal, followed by grunts, roars, and then screams of pain. One after another after another. Ruark and his men on the walls, who had been leaning over the back edge to watch, suddenly looked at each other in shock. Ruark leaned forward and shouted at his men on the ground. “Kill him!” he shouted. “Kill him now!”

That’s when I realized no one on the walls was watching us. I ran to the door, ignoring the screams from the other side, and grabbed the handle. The door was thick and incredibly heavy, but I dug my feet into the ground and it opened slowly, grudgingly, revealing a scene of breathtaking slaughter. Arkael stood before me, alone, the bodies of Ruark’s men lying on the ground all around him, while he stared up at those who still dared to watch him from the walls.

“Who among you claims to protect the sorcerer?” he asked. No one answered. Then Ruark’s voice boomed through the fort.

“Everyone to the ground! He can’t stop all of us at once! Everyone kill him!”

I turned around and waved to Cullach, signaling him to attack, but he was already running toward me. He’d seen his opening.

"Through the gate!" Cullach shouted, raising his sword and charging forward. His men cried out and followed suit and I stood there, frozen, as seventy hardened warriors swarmed past me and into the fort.

Ruark’s men, who’d wanted no part in attacking Arkael, now reacted once Cullach’s horde came charging in. Their lives were on the line, and they began to fight back, but it was obvious they were already beaten. I’d only seen men lose the will to fight once before, in Eoferwic, when the Vikings swarmed the city. Tonight, I could see the same disconcerted look in the eyes of Ruark’s army. It may be bloody, but Cullach would have his victory. Now I would have to find mine.

Arkael waited in the small courtyard, away from the fighting. His sword was out but he made no move to attack, and none of Ruark’s men came anywhere near him. I left my satchel on the ground by the door and approached Arkael carefully, making certain I wasn’t about to stumble into a blade myself, but none of Ruark’s men remained by the gate. “You,” he grunted once he saw me. “Stay close.” He made for the dungeon entrance, the battle raging all around him, and I followed.

Down into the demon’s lair.

Chapter 33

His words helped immeasurably.

As the darkness washed over me, I learned to turn myself in my mind, letting the wind flow around me instead of head on. I still felt it everywhere, in every little corner and crevice of this place, but it wasn’t able to latch onto me this time and burrow into my soul. It was like avoiding the lunge of a slow, clumsy swordsman, albeit a lunge that could pierce my heart if I wasn’t careful.

We moved down the stairwell until we reached the room with four exits. Two lit torches hung in sconces on either side, and I grabbed one, feeling a little better with something solid in my hand. I had no idea where the side exits led to, since I’d passed out in my last trip down here, but I had no desire to explore. I raced down the hall ahead, stopping only when I reached the thick cell door that I still saw in my nightmares.

“Wait,” I said, motioning Arkael to stop while I held the torch up and peered through the door’s grate. A large figure sat in the darkness, hunched over in the corner. At the sound of my voice, though, it lifted its head and looked at me. I could only make out the outline of his body and face, but I recognized Ewen right away. Half of a body lay in the other corner, the murderer, Oswald, and I shuddered to think about what Ewen had to do to survive down here. He stood up, facing the grate, his eyes hidden under the dirty, matted hair that hung down to his mouth. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could feel the hate coming from this room. His muscles tensed, then he charged at us, and I leapt back, expecting him to break through the door. It held, but he pounded on it, roaring in anger at his inability to reach me.

I looked over at Arkael, who stood idly next to me. “This is Ewen,” I said. “My friend. I have to help him.”

“You will heal him?” Arkael looked back at me like a stern teacher, waiting for me to prove that I’d learned something.

“I have to. But I need your help. If we open the door he’ll try to kill us. Can you… stop him long enough for me to help him?”

“I can.”

“You won’t hurt him?” I asked, motioning to Arkael’s blade.

Arkael frowned and sheathed his sword. “Not unless I need to.”

“You won’t.” I put the torch in another nearby sconce and waited for Arkael to signal that he was ready. He nodded, and I took a deep breath, reached for the door, and yanked the latch up. The door flew open as Ewen pushed on it from the inside, and I fell backward with a yelp of surprise. Ewen bounded out into the hallway, searching for me with a rabid hunger, but before he could reach me, Arkael slipped behind, grabbed his arms, and kicked him in the back of the legs. Ewen tumbled to the ground, falling on his stomach, with Arkael holding his arms behind him, pinning him down.

“Now,” he said. I hesitated, afraid. “Do it now,” Arkael repeated harshly. I crouched down next to them and began chanting the words.

“
Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat, et ego
-”

“Don’t pray,” Arkael said. “Just heal him.”

“I- I have to say them. They’re part of the-”

“No, they’re not. You are the healer. As long as you want to heal, you will heal. Now do it!”

I hesitated at first, trying to make sense of this information, but a frustrated grunt from Ewen reminded me of the urgency of our situation. I reached out and touched his forehead, and the darkness attacked.

Like always, it came right at me, but this time I was able to adjust, and let it flow around me. Again I felt like a nimble swordsman, dodging lazy and unfocused strikes. Instead of the visions flooding through me, they whipped past like a fading memory, disappearing into the void. It was not painless. They left their mark, nipping and cutting at me like the talons of a falcon. And I couldn’t avoid all of them, including some of Oswald’s horrible crimes, what he did to those women and children, and then what came after, when he cut the bodies up and ate them. It was horrifying, but I stood strong this time. I held up against the torrent. And even more importantly, I could see the end.

Finally, after a blissfully short amount of time compared to the last few attempts, the visions disappeared, and I freed myself from the void that lay at the edges of Ewen’s soul. I pulled away in a daze, and grabbed the wall for support, still feeling some residual effects from the effort – mostly an aching body and weak legs. Arkael released his hold on Ewen, who lay sprawled on the floor, and I leaned over cautiously to get a better look. His eyes fluttered open, and I nearly recoiled in fear. But once they stayed open, I saw no malice in them. It was Ewen. He was back.

He looked at me, and he recognized me right away.

“Father.”

“No,” I said, smiling back. “Just Daniel.”

He coughed, a horrible, wretched hacking, and Arkael and I helped him to his feet. He was weak and his hands shook, but his spirit was strong. Arkael looked at me, and his expression softened.

“You spoke the truth.”

I nodded. He looked away then, thoughtfully, as if working through a new wrinkle in our plan. Ewen glanced at Arkael, then back at me.

“You did it,” Ewen said. “You healed me. Again.”

“Yes. And this time I remembered it.”

“It was awful,” Ewen said, a pained expression on his face, “what they did to me.”

“Tell him later,” Arkael said, pulling his sword back out. “We need to finish this.” He stalked into the darkness ahead. I grabbed the torch and motioned Ewen to follow.

Ewen looked at me, confused. “He’s a friend,” I said to him. “The one I told you about. He’s the one who will save us. He’s here to kill Lorcan.”

“He will?” Ewen followed along, gathering his strength quickly.

“Yes. You should go back up, where it’s safe.”

“No," he grabbed my arm, as much to steady himself as to emphasize his point, "I will stay with you. I owe you my life. Again.”

I frowned. He owed me nothing. He was here because of me, but I didn’t quibble over that. I didn’t mind having a friend nearby, just in case.

The sound of blades coming free of their scabbards echoed through the halls. Arkael stood in the center room ahead of us, facing some new threat to our right. The two of us approached cautiously, until we saw Lorcan's four servants filing in from the side hallway, their own weapons drawn.

"Who are you?" Arthan demanded. Boric stood next to him, and his face tightened when he saw me enter the room with Ewen.

Arkael ignored them, staring instead at the hallway behind, where an amber light slowly brightened the walls. A low moaning accompanied the light, one I recognized, and a moment later, Lorcan appeared, holding a torch in one hand and a knife in the other. Behind him were two more men I didn’t recognize, though their heavy furs and wild hair meant they were probably drawn from Ruark’s army. They stood on each side of Avaline, clutching her arms, very nearly dragging her along the floor. Lorcan stopped when he saw us, and looked all three of us over, but his eyes eventually settled on me.

“What is this?” he hissed, reaching back to stroke Avaline’s hair. “The pet has returned for its master?”

“I’ve come to watch you die,” I said. Knowing what would probably come next, I held my arm out to gently push Ewen back and out of the way.

Lorcan chuckled, and he glanced at Arkael and his sword, which now pointed at him. “How? From him?”

“The demon has tainted your soul,” Arkael said, his commanding voice filling the room. “I will send it back to the darkness from whence it came.”

Lorcan eyed Arkael carefully, then lazily pointed a finger. "Kill him," he said. Then he pointed at me. “Leave him alive.”

Boric, Arthan, and the other two men in black rushed forward, swarming Arkael. But it made no difference. He dodged, parried, slashed and lunged and all four men fell to the ground. My eyes followed Boric as he clutched his throat, blood pouring through his fingers, and his legs failing him. When he fell, his eyes found me briefly, and I saw in them the barest sliver of guilt. I didn’t care, though. He died in the service of a demented madman. His fate was earned.