A tap went on his shoulder and Vincent startled from the ground. Scrambling suddenly, he was looking at Alistair. His eyes were barely open and his face showed his exhaustion. Vincent figured he’d been face practicing throughout his watch. “Alright kid. Go get some sleep. I’ve got it.”
“Thanks.” He mumbled and went to lay down on the ground. They had settled near the abandoned well. Morrigan was leaning against it, Alison laying on a pile of blankets. Vincent had curled up near Blaze a few feet away. Grunting he got to his feet slowly the horse glancing at him with slow blinks of his eyes. Alistair went to lay beside his sister.
Vincent stretched, cracking his back as he tried to circulation back in his body. Morrigan had taken the first and last shift, followed by Alistair and then him. The dice did not lie. He tried messing with them and Morrigan almost stabbed him. So, he rolled them the old fashioned way and the dice gave him the third spot.
He picked up his sword, revolver and set them against his hip. The stars were dull, in the sky above him. Glancing at the slim moon above he gave it a smile and a wave in return but for the most part it was incredibly dark. Shaking his head, he started walking around the town slowly dragging his sword through the ground.
This place was so strange. He paced one of the stone huts and as he passed it, he slowed. Staring at the place where glass stood to be a window. Where the door still clung to its hinges. He walked toward it slowly and peaked inside but didn’t see more. It was dark as a cave. No light was reaching inside and they didn’t make a fire.
He walked toward the window, narrowing his eyes. Squinting he tried to get a better look. Setting his sword against the ground he reached to his belt and got out a flint. Tracing his path back to the door he picked up a wooden shard of the door on the ground. Looking it over he sparked it against the wood several times until it caught.
There was a tiny ember of light on the stick and he raised it up high. Some light from the flames but not a decent amount. He pushed the door open slightly and stepped over the threshold. It was cooler in there than anywhere else. He shuddered just going inside.
Brushing his hand in front of him, he swatted a cobweb away. The floor was covered in pieces of stone and dust. He stepped on something and it shattered making him jump slightly. Stumbling back into a wall he stared at the ground with a scowl. Crouching and lowering the makeshift torch he picked up a triangle shard of something.
Holding it up it looked like a sickly green color but as he turned it over, feeling the grooves on it he guessed it might have been a plate on the ground. Rolling his eyes slowly he tossed it back down hearing it shatter in a softer way. He turned as he stood again. He moved forward and looked at a table.
It was made of wood but it was falling apart. Chunks of it had sunk to the ground, some of it tilted over. There was green mold in some places and in others there were still silverware just resting as if someone was going to use it. A cup, a plate, forks. Maybe it was the previous owners.
Raising the torch again he found a cupboard. The glass was shattered and each row was filled with more broken pieces of cups and plates. They had flowery designs on them. He picked up a square piece, holding it to the light and watched the light gently reflect back on him. The vine pattern was green with a piece of a blue flower this on this shard. Putting it back he turned around and his heart skipped a beat.
He saw a flash of cloth. Something white quickly flutter past him. He blinked very slowly staring at where it had past him. Rubbing his eyes slowly he had to question himself thoroughly. Was that a real thing just now? Was he tired? Mind playing tricks on him. Ignoring it he turned around slowly and walked toward the opposite wall and an open passage. There was a kitchen there, at least what he guessed was one.
A small fire place with a pot turned over. The ground was stained dark with whatever the contents of that had once been. Picking up the pot it was heavier than it looked, not that small. Turning over he looked inside it to be greeted by a rat. It squealed at him and he dropped it in shock letting out a shout.
The sound echoed for a moment in the empty house. “Alright Vince. Let’s leave this creepy place. This isn’t a good place to be. I should go back to keeping watch.”
He turned around to start walking when out of the corner of his eye he saw it again. The flash of white. Staring at the corner it went around he took a slow breath and glared. This was going to bother him now. Glaring at the spot and taking several slow breaths he started walking toward it. He’d go see it, show himself that it was nothing, and then go back outside with a fun story.
There was really only one direction for him to go in. As he walked he glanced at the walls. There were marks on them. Colorful ones like oranges, blues, yellows. Most of them low to the ground too. He looked at it, crouching slightly and wondered. They looked like weird symbols he’d never seen before in his life. Arcs and diagonals lines and circles.
He kept walking into the room that was there and it was a bedroom. A mattress and a blanket torn apart by the claws of probably the rat and its family. There were sheets of paper on the ground, all torn or scattered. The remains of books probably. There was a shelf that would have been appropriate for them.
It was a bedroom. It was simple, nothing special. But there weren’t any flashes of white or things that could have shocked or surprised him. He poked at the bed lightly with the barrel of his revolver for a second. Still soft. Once you got past the torn to shreds cushion it would probably work to be slept on.
A wind swept through the house killing the torch. Shuddering and glaring at the piece of wood he debated if he wanted to relight it. Getting his flint, he sparked another flame and brought the tiny stick to life once more. Shaking his head slowly he turned around and frozen in his place.
A little girl with pale skin, a dress of silver and black hair was in front of him. She looked at him with dark eyes like coals. He was at a loss for words. Though if anything this was the flash of white that he’d seen the entire time.
“Hey there.” He said finally getting his voice back. It was hoarse even to his own ears. “What’s a little girl like you doing in a place like this? You lost or something?”
The girl reached out to him with both hands. Her eyes focused on his and he felt dizzy out of nowhere. Staring at her he slouched slightly, almost stumbling. “Traitors.” The depth in her tone and echo of that voice almost snapped him out of it. “Suffer. Burn like we did.”
He reached toward her a question on his lips when his eyes rolled backwards. He felt himself falling, hands grasping for purchase when he crashed into the bed blacking out entirely.
“Vincent what the heck are you doing?”
The red head grumbled his eyes hurting as he struggled to swim to consciousness.
“Come on we’re going to be late for service. Wake up you moron”
The young boy couldn’t pretend to sleep any longer. He yawned, rubbing his eyes slowly. He looked around himself slowly, trying to get his bearings. His head was on a wooden desk, his legs crossed awkwardly underneath it. Rubbing his eyes, he smoothed out his clothes, pants, tunic and boots and yawned again.
The girl in front of him was pouting. “Come on. If I’m late because of you I’m going to beat you up in your sleep and take your dessert.”
She stood, hands on her hips. Her curly hair complimented the freckles on her cheeks. Her eyes were bright and lips upturned in the teasing and knowing smirk of a pre-teen. The glee she had at teasing her best friend, making light threats that sometimes she would act on.
“Ronnie don’t do that. I’m coming okay? See.” He pushed himself to his feet, losing his vision as his hair took over. Brushing it aside from his face he saw she was holding a length of string in front of his eyes. Putting part of it inside his mouth he ran it behind his head and tied it back in a messy pony tail.
Once his face was cleared, he smiled a bright one flashing each of his teeth. And she couldn’t help but smile back at him. Veronica was taller them him with her hair equally as red his own. Her eyes were a bright brown and she yanked a pale hand on his darker one dragging him forward.
“Why are you Hayes kids so pushy.”
“Momma always raised her kids to get what they want.”
“That why your brothers are always getting in trouble for fighting?”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on. Run. Father Liam’s speaking today,” She sounded excited as she all but dragged him through the class room door. It had been a small square stone room with windows facing the sun as it rose in the morning to keep the children awake. However, because of that shape it made a great napping place for certain slackers.
As they passed through the small room the sun shone down on them brightly. He winced at it but now they were in a church. A long church with rows upon rows of pews. Several figures were there, heads bowed as the priest, Father Liam, spoke the prayer.
He had thick blonde hair showing the edges of silver with age. He had a strong jaw and flat nose with dark blue eyes. His robes were large and flowing with a shawl of intricate yellows and greens around his neck and shoulders. His voice was so powerful that it echoed in the church so that no matter how far back you were you would hear his words. They resonated within their chests and supposedly their souls.
Veronica and Vincent snuck around the sides getting a few glares from the few who bothered to open their eyes and notice the children. Neither of them really cared about the glares though as they got to the front. There were two open spots at the corner. They slid in together as the man kept his head down, arms spread wide.
“Our Lord looks over His children. Watches them like a careful Father with curious youth. We hear His voice and abide by His teachings. To know that He is good and He will protect the faithful above all else. His lessons are harsh. They are difficult. But they are for those willing to learn, willing to listen. Those able to rise to the occasion, rise to His side, then you will earn your place within His arms in this life and the next.”
Vincent heard the words but he didn’t believe them. Didn’t feel like they resonated properly. He wanted nothing more than to stand up and ask the priest exactly why they had to do these things. What about them, the people in the Sanctum, made them more special than those outside of their borders. Why they suffered from the bandits and the Norians.
Veronica mumbled her prayers beside him, quietly repeating what the priest said in her own way of belief. She was sold on the doctrine of the Sanctum. She believed in their God, the Father, and in a lot of small ways there were signs that he was taking care of her. Her family had recently gotten a good harvest. They’d bought a new horse. They could afford luxuries like the bright blue ribbon in her hair.
He took his gaze off of her for a moment and he was staring through the cracked open door in front of him. He saw the priest in front of him, sitting in his chair and talking to an armored soldier. The fire light cast long shadows in the room as he heard father Liam.
The soldier was tall with a broad chest. He was wearing his full armor, silver with blue feathers lining the shoulders and arms. He held his helmet under his arm and had a flowing white cape that reached his legs. He knew that man too. Captain Kai, one of the generals in the Sanctum army. He was the one that the people knew, the people rallied to. A famous general.
“The people are restless. Asking about the increased taxes. They say that its unjust. That they can’t afford to keep up with them.”
“Of course they can. What other reason do they have to live but to serve the church? The Father.”
“What about those that beg for a break for leniency. The Hayes family is one that I don’t think will sit down silently”
“Our Lord does not reward laziness. Our Lord demands faith and conviction. For those who are not willing to do either then they must lose that which they value and be reminded of their faith.”
Vincent raised a hand to his mouth to try and prevent his gasp.
“If it is the will of our Lord then I shall carry it out.”
The soldier lowered his head and started walking toward the door. Vincent stumbled backwards to flee but he couldn’t. He just fell onto his back and was looking at the startled soldier. But that startled look didn’t remain. Instead it turned to scowl of anger. His armored glove reached down, grabbed him by his hair, and dragged him forward. He shouted and struggled under his grip but it was iron.
He was thrown onto the carpet sharply and he rolled before getting to his hands and knees. Father Liam stared at him. “What do we have here? A spy?”
“I believe he overheard our,” Kai said tersely resting a hand on his sword. “Conversation.”
Liam didn’t panic as he looked at Kai and then at Vincent with a warm smile that didn’t thaw the coldness of his eyes. “Oh. Is that right? I would ask if you could keep a secret Vincent, but you tend to speak your mind. Even when it’s not the truth. And our Lord doesn’t entertain those who lie.”
Kai grabbed his head by his hair and his eyes skimmed over the flames in the fire place. The flames surrounded his vision and he heard the screams around him. In front was a crowd, surrounding him all pointing and shouting. He heard the words ‘mage’ and ‘demons’ thrown around but nothing made sense. Struggling against the bonds they didn’t budge nor did they give. They remained tight against his wrist stopping him from getting out of this.
He saw Father Liam standing, his hands within his robes. General Kai was there too his helmet on his face, the blue of the feathers smothered by the orange of the flames. A woman was on the ground tears in her eyes. A man was being held down by two soldiers in his eyes as well as he tried to fight the bonds.
His head shifted first right and he saw them, a pair of boys screaming. They were tied hands and legs to wooded post. Huge bon fires beneath them quickly growing and licking at their feet. Those were Veronica’s brothers.
He looked to his left and he saw Veronica there. Crying her eyes out and screaming at everyone assembled there. He couldn’t hear her over the roar of the flames but he watched as they suddenly accelerated and she was engulfed by the flames. Her screams were choked out of her as the flames torched her throat.
“No!” his screams were echoed by her brothers beside him. He turned to glare at Father Liam his own tears spilling for and down his cheeks. He glared at Liam as if he could set the man aflame with just his hate and anger.
“Do you see everyone. This is the fate of those who practice dark magic. The mages who live among us. Affronts to our Lord’s very presence and His love. We cannot allow such abominations to pervade our way of life.” He spread his arms and the assorted crowd shouted louder in protest. “Those who would are to be branded traitors. They shall suffer and burn in His holy fire.”
He could feel the flames beneath him growing stronger. Going higher and trying to consume him. He felt them licking at his feet and knew that he would die. He would burn here alive and he hung his head low shutting his eyes.
“Vincent!”
“Wake up fool!”
He felt something strike him, the air itself becoming solid and hitting him across the cheek. His vision swam, the smell of smoke and fire remaining but the people fading. Their faces lost clarity, becoming more and more obscured until they were gone. It was just the flames around him and he felt the air hit him again, harder.
“Carry him!”
The wind whistled around him, the flames growing hot for a moment and then faded slowly. As if he were leaving them behind. A distant glow. He saw the poles from so far away. He feebly tried to reach out to them whispering Veronica’s name through his hoarse throat.
His back hit the ground and he jolted, eyes opening and beholding the stars. He coughed hard turning to the ground and spat ash soaked spit onto the ground. His throat felt raw, rawer than it had been after a hard night drinking and the following day spent vomiting. His vision swam with more tears.
“Oh look. He’s awake. Good, he can watch us die and it’ll be his fault this time.” Morrigan said with a scowl in her voice. Though he barely heard her over the howling in the air.
“What…” He tried to keep walking but his voice gave out midsentence. So, he turned and look around them. Somehow, they were surrounded. People all wearing the same silver grey clothes as the little girl. They all had black hair and pale skin. They were coming closer and each movement they made they jerked slightly, sudden movements that were like a bad puppeteer was pulling their strings.
There were at least two dozen of them, maybe more. Vincent turned around and watched as they came forward. “What is this?” he asked with an airy voice.
“This is the truth. This place really is haunted.” Alistair said glancing at the ghost trying to keep them all in view but he couldn’t. The wind tore at their shapes, shifting them from view back and forth over and over. He couldn’t focus. Over the wind the demons began to chant.
“Traitors! Monsters! Demons!”
They came closer their chant getting louder and louder.
Morrigan’s hand went to her sword her eyes bleeding to red and Alistair’s fingers turned to claws. He stood in front of his sisters sleeping body ready to claw anything human or spirit. Though he was barely on his feet Vincent reached for his sword but it was missing so raised his fist.
“Any ideas this time around fool?” Morrigan asked.
Though they were all scared Alistair came up with the idea first. “Why is this village considered haunted?”
Before he could respond there was a groan. Alistair felt a tugging at his waist. He looked and watched as Alison started to rise. She climbed and immediately he went to her side lifting her slowly. She clung to her brother, her hair shrouding her eyes. She turned to look at him and then around them.
“What did you get into while I was asleep?” She mumbled.
“Oh you know. Vincent pissed off a city full of ghosts.”
“That’s not my fault.” He shouted over the wind and groaned as he held his head. “And to answer your question kid, this was a victim of the Sanctum’s mage crusade. They razed the town to the ground. There weren’t a lot of survivor.”
“So how many of these people are actually mages?”
“A lot of them,” Alison responded when she looked around. Her eyes glowed lightly from over her brother’s shoulder. Narrowing her eyes, pain echoed across her forehead and she took a steadying breath. “I can feel their magic resonating. It’s probably why we can feel their magic so strongly.”
“Wait. They’re all mages?” Alistair asked her.
“Not all but those that aren’t probably would have protected them.”
He nodded quickly. “I’ve got an idea. Trust me and back me up on this. Especially you sis.”
“Always.” She affirmed floating to his side. She held out her hand and he took it, holding it tightly.
While they spoke the circle of ghost got tighter around them, coming closer. Their chant had grown louder and the winds actually slashed at his hands and face. He winced at the contact but held his hands out to them.
“Geist of Gaynz! You were unjustly murdered. Burned to death in your beds by those who hated and feared you!” The chanting didn’t die down as these words were said. They raised their hands and both began to glow a mixture of both their magic. “But we are not those people! We are like you! Mages who are prosecuted by the very same that would have killed you. My sister and I ran from our home for fear of being used as weapons!”
The chanting stopped suddenly. The wind slowed down, a dull roar instead of the howl from before. The spirits stared at them still despite the darkness in their eyes and the hate that spilled from them before.
“These two are our friends. Companions that are keeping us safe. They’ve been kind to us. Friends.” He said motioning to the knight and the bandit who were too afraid to move or budge against them. “We did not mean to disturb you. Our friend is an idiot but a good-natured idiot. We only want to stay here the night for safety. Once the sun rises we’ll move on.”
The ghost stared at them. And then one by one they faded away. Swaths of spirits disappearing from the spot until one remained. It was the little girl who found Vincent. He tensed immediately but the twins walked toward her. The ghost stared at them as they crouched.
“You’re like us,” she finally said and reached a tiny hand out to him. He took it in his and it felt so small in his palm. But it didn’t stay there for long before it faded away entirely. She was gone and all that was left was the four of them. No one knew how to break the silence that had been created.
Alistair looked at his sister and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Well. I guess there’s an orator in you huh?” He grinned at her and shook his head.
“Someone had to keep things together while you had your nap.”
The Harlequin Library 