A Prayer of Freaks and Sinners Page 6

  "How did he survive when others did not?"

  Invar walked in front of the line. He stood there on the wide balcony, with the Torrent illuminated behind him. Dark stormclouds gathered over the mountain range. A cold wind blew into the observatory.

  Invar looked every inch the angry mountain god as he surveyed them.

  "Because other than you nine miscreants, he's the only man in centuries to be born with Angall's Whisper. It allowed him safe passage in, and it allowed him out."

  Alfred's eyes widened in amazement.

  "He's here. He's alive?"

  Invar chewed his big grey moustache. He frowned as he searched for the right answer.

  "He breathes. His heart beats. Come with me. I will take you to him. It might help you, or it might not."

  Without another word Invar strode to the top of the spiral staircase that led down into the monastery. The aspirants looked at each other, and then followed the paladin.

  He led them on a winding route down spiral staircases, deep into the old heart of Ironghast. Alfred had explored the structure over the weeks since his arrival. An ancient warren with many areas off limits.

  A place of great and ancient secrets, and he had begun to learn the first of them. Finding out that Invar had kept and raised the world's last Manticore here had been shock enough for Alfred. Invar had told him since that there many old and dark secrets in the monastery. Things they may need to use in the war to come.

  The aspirants ended up in a long gloomy corridor with a locked gate. Invar fiddled with a bunch of keys until he picked one out and opened it with a rusty creak. The corridor torch-lit but seemed like a very old part of Ironghast. Several small doors lined the walls and Invar led them down towards one on the far left.

  "Some of the monks have taken a vow of silence and retreated from the world. They live in small rooms here with their books and meditations. They do not join the rest of us for meals of prayers, preferring a life of quiet contemplation."

  Deena glanced around the cramped corridor.

  "Ironghast is not enough isolation for people here?"

  Invar worked his thick jaw.

  "For some of those with the Magus, the world is too loud a place. Those that manifest as sight-thieves or can hear the dreams of others. To them, raindrops are like the beating of drums. They can see much, they have been our spies through the eyes of the forest and city. But it takes a great toll on them."

  Alfred peered into the small grate on one of the rooms. Lit by a single candle. A man sat cross legged on a horsehair mat. His eyes closed and deep in meditation. Then Alfred noticed that the walls of his little room thick with vines and bushes. Bright red berries and white mistletoe had sprouted everywhere. Alfred gave Invar a curious glance. The old paladin smiled.

  "Simon there has walked in the blue forest for going on three years now, in any number of guises. Squirrel, hawk and fox. He walks as them all. Only ever seen him wake once a month or so to eat and bathe. Then he is back to the woods in his mind. He brings some of nature back with him it seems."

  Alfred peered in again and saw the monk's eyes open, wide but unseeing. Black as ink.

  "Can a man become lost in such dreams?”

  Invar nodded and gave a little laugh.

  "Yes, I think they can. Those that become trees. They find the peace they cannot find in life and the world slows down for them."

  Deena glanced along the dim corridor. The other aspirants huddled in behind.

  "Is the man we have come to see like them?"

  Invar's face darkened.

  "No. No he is not. He is something else."

  They moved along a corridor to a thick oak door. Unlike the others secured and bolted. The aspirants huddled together, clamoring to see through the little grate.

  Alfred jostled and pushed but he managed to stay at the front and peer inside. A dingy room, the stench of sweat and damp drifted out to them. The room lit by a single oil lamp. Symbols and writing scrawled all across the walls. In chalk, ink and blood. Alfred leaned in closer to peer inside.

  He noticed that in the hubbub he pressed in close to Deena, who also tried to peer inside. She had bathed since her arrival at the council. Her white skin smelled scrubbed with soap. Her hair conditioned with some kind of oil that had the aroma of cloves and cinnamon. Alfred felt her hard, wiry shoulder pressed into his chest. He felt his heart beat too fast again and the sweat break out on his forehead. He glanced sidelong at her and she turned with a grouchy frown.

  "What?" She said.

  "Nothing, I er...you've had a bath."

  She looked at him like he was insane. They heard the suppressed giggles and whispers of the other aspirants behind them. Her wide blue eyes incredulous, she replied as if to an imbicile.

  "I...have."

  Invar's big hands shoved them aside as if made of straw and stepped close to the grate. He spoke inside. As soft as his granite voice would allow.

  "Father Latherus. Are you awake? I have brought some young acolytes to see you. They would hear your wisdom, and of your journeys."

  Only the crackle of the oil lamp heard within. Alfred leaned closer in, straining his eyes to the gloom.

  A face appeared at the grate an inch from Alfred's. Wild bloodshot eyes. Broken brown teeth and a matted beard. Alfred shot back, banging his head into one of the other boy's chins. The other, the flat-face chunky boy, gave Alfred a little shove forward.

  "Watch what you're doing, whelp."

  Alfred rubbed the back of his head and looked at the filthy face in the cell. The monk leaned in close and Alfred reeled from his reeking breath. His voice a dry croak, little used.

  "A lot of Whisperers out there. Are you planning a school outing, Old Gumm?"

  Invar nodded at the man.

  "Aye, of a sort, father." Invar leaned in close and whispered.

  "These troublemakers know me as Invar Ironbound, father. I'm er, repenting my drunken ways and trying to remember who I was. Can you spare us a few moments to do the same?"

  The raggedy monk looked deep into Invar's eyes and then held up a piece of chalk. His eyes grew wild and stared into something none of the rest of them could see.

  "I was just about to begin a lesson, Gumm... Er, Invar. This is a seminary as well as a monastery. Please come in. I was in the middle of something."

  The filthy face disappeared from the grate and retreated to somewhere in the room. The furious noise of chalk scratching on the stone walls began.

  Invar slid the bolt of the door and then turned to the aspirants.

  The lanky black haired boy stood open-mouthed.

  "How long was he inside the Torrent?"

  Invar thought for a moment.

  "Less than an hour."

  The straw haired girl with the blotchy freckles turned away in amazement.

  "This is madness. He is mad himself, look at him! You're not getting me to set a foot in that Torrent. Not for a moment."

  Invar shrugged.

  "No one can make you go. Blessed by Angall, but not because you're special. It's for you to rise and meet your blessing. You to prove yourself worthy of having it."

  The straw haired girl tsked and folded her arms. Alfred knew that they wouldn't get along. She whined some more.

  "Maybe I'm not worthy. Maybe none of us are."

  Invar stood tall and his shadow fell across her. She shrunk back a little and could not meet his eye.

  "Maybe. But you few wretches are the only people in the world that can walk in there and walk out again. Without those holy weapons, hidden somewhere inside, we have no chance at all to stop the Sorrow. It will sweep across the world, and this time it will win. So you're all we've got. I hope you find your courage. If not you can hunker down here in the monastery until the Sorrow finds you, and takes all that you are."

  A shiver ran through the huddled youths. Alfred sympathized with them. He also questioned his place here, and the burden the gods had placed upon him. But something had changed in h
im these last few weeks. The first ember of faith and courage. Just a flicker and the slightest breeze could extinguish it. But it was there.

  Not a problem he could walk away from. All he would be walking into if he did was a slower less predictable death. A coward's death. King Oligan, the Brotherhood of Vicissitude and the ancient Sorrow would sweep across the world and leave not a single thing alive. With his sorcerous blood, he would always be hunted. He and the other aspirants had only one chance to save themselves and the world as they knew it. He turned to the group and cleared his throat.

  "It's a mortal danger to go in there, that's true. But it's a greater danger to wait out here. In there we might have slim chance, but out here we have none. I say we go into that Torrent and do what we have to do. Help each other through it."

  Deena gave him a strange glance then. For a fleeting moment Alfred thought it admiration. Then back to the usual contempt. She muttered under her breath.

  "Drowning in a shark's mouth."

  "Eh?"

  She looked down to the floor.

  "It's something Cyrus used to say when at sea. Just deeper and deeper layers of danger. The one that kills you, you didn't even see coming. Drowning in a shark's mouth."

  Alfred looked at her and nodded. He couldn't help noticing her fringe falling over one blue eye.

  Something else had changed for him. He didn't know her, and she seemed to hate everything he said and did. But this girl Deena made Alfred want to be a braver man. He had caught sight of something that made him want to protect the world he lived in. Not a mountain, or a statue, or a shrine to god. A red haired girl who despised him. He chastised himself.

  Don't be ridiculous Alfred, you don't even know her.

  Deena looked up at Invar and raised a dark brow.

  "Can we talk with him?"

  Invar gazed at her and then gave a little shrug.

  "You can try. He doesn't say much, and when he does, it's often not in any language we can understand. He just scrawls his artwork on the walls. When they are full, we clean the walls, and he begins again."

  Alfred stepped forward from the huddle of aspirants.

  "Let me come with you, Deena. Let me try to talk with him."

  The chunky flat faced bruiser of an aspirant, who Alfred now knew as Peyter, snorted and spat on the grimy flagstones.

  "We're gonna get no sense out of that lunatic. Only thing he'll give us if we go in there is fleas. You two go on, knock yourselves out."

  Alfred straightened his robes and squared his shoulders. He glanced askance at Deena and she had done the same. Then Invar creaked open the oak door and they stepped inside.

  Deena crept over to the monk on the corner, huddled over his candle. The stench of sweat overpowering. She saw an untouched jug of water on the step next to him. Latherus looked malnourished and parched, so she knelt down and poured him a cup of cool water.

  "Here you go father. Drink something. It will help keep your strength up."

  The old man turned and looked at her with distant blue eyes. Confused at first, and then took the cup and smiled.

  "What an angel. Blessed of Angall, your hair."

  Deena smiled.

  "Thank you, father. I hope it will bring me luck where we are going."

  Latherus reached out and twizzled a lock of Deena's hair between finger and thumb. He stared at it as if he had no idea what it was.

  "And where are you going child?"

  Deena gestured for him to drink more from his water cup. He looked frail and she guessed he forgot to nourish himself.

  "We are going into the Torrent, father Latherus. We are hoping you can help us."

  Latherus recoiled, dropping his cup. Water spilled down his robes and he shook his head.

  "You can't go into the Torrent! You can't! It will devour you in there. Nothing leaves but is instead absorbed."

  Deena picked up his cup and refilled it. She handed it to his shaking hands.

  "But go we must, father. The world is at war, and we cannot defeat our enemy. Not by conventional means. We have been chosen by god to walk in your blessed footsteps. Can you help us?"

  Father Latherus took a nervous sip of water then set down his cup. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. His eyes haunted.

  "Only I can enter. Angall marked me out as different. But it's no blessing, child. It's a curse."

  Deena reached out and took his hand. At first Latherus recoiled, unused to being touched. Then he seemed to recognize something in her and fixed her gaze. He spoke with amazement and pity.

  "You are marked the same."

  Deena smiled and closed her eyes. When she opened them, a pale golden light gleamed from her eyes and mouth. Subtle and pale like a winter dawn.

  Alfred turned from his investigation of the markings on the wall. He watched as Deena's soul ignited.

  The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  An end to loneliness. A communion like he had never felt in prayer. He felt the warmth build in his chest, an involuntary kindling. His cheeks became a translucent pink, blood vessels highlighted and his eyes glittered as golden coins. His own Whisper had flared up, in answer to Deena's. Behind Deena, huddled in the doorway, the remaining aspirants all experienced it as well. In the shadows of the corridor they seemed like a family of nocturnal creatures caught in firelight. Cat's eyes glimmering in the dark.

  Father Latherus peered around at them all with an expression of wonder.

  "All of you?"

  Deena nodded.

  "All of us father."

  Latherus shook his head in amazement.

  "I was rare. The first in hundreds of years I was told. I didn't know my purpose, and still don't. But so many with Angall's Whisper together. It is unheard of. It can only mean that..."

  He glanced around at the aspirants, and then his eyes fell upon Invar. The old paladin nodded.

  "The Sorrow returned, Latherus. It's taken the king. It's embedded itself like a tick into our cities and our houses of power. Eating away at us from the inside. All fooled, even the Order of the Blaze. Now, when there are so few of us left with the magic to stop it, it attacks."

  Latherus stared at Invar for a long moment. His eyes filled with tears. As he looked back at Deena, the tears began to glow, as if infused with specks of gold. Weaker than the light of the aspirants. A memory of a blessing. He reached out and once again took Deena's hand.

  "And Angall in his wisdom put this burden on the shoulders of children. Where is the justice in this world?"

  Alfred stared at the wall with the fading remanence of his lit eyes. For a moment he glimpsed something else in the seeming madness. He traced the symbols with his fingertips.

  "Wait. Wait a minute. This isn't just random scrawl. It's riddle. It's a code. It looks like the way paragraphs are arranged in the old books of Angall's Riddles. Like poetry, there's a shape and rhythm to it."

  Deena stood and moved to join him. As she got closer, Alfred felt a tingle all over his skin, as the light of their blessings mingled. An exquisite sensation and he saw that she felt it too. A shiver of pleasure ran through them both. They shared a moment of embarrassment, as if some profound intimacy had been shared. They could not meet each other's gaze, and then shook themselves free of the moment and continued. Deena cleared her throat and spoke first.

  "Can you make sense of it?"

  Alfred shook his head.

  "Bits and pieces. There are warnings. Excerpts from prayers. Mention of ghosts. Of monstrous things. It's not...it's not story as such. It's something else."

  Deena turned back to the shriveled holy man on the step.

  "Friar Latherus. Can you help us? What waits for us in the Torrent?"

  The frail old monk turned to hulking Invar, who stood in the doorway with the aspirants behind him. His eyes became clear and for a moment Alfred could see the man he once was.

  "Darkness. And predators. Invar, you must prepare these young people to harness their blessing. Sw
ords will not save them in there. You must teach them to harness the little light they have inside. It's all that will keep the monsters back. Even then, not for long."

  Deena frowned.

  “Our blessing can protect us?”

  “Yes, but more than that. It will guide you. Release your light. It will be drawn to the place you need to go. It will find magic like itself. Like attracts like. As I am sure you two young people know.”

  Alfred and Deena could not entirely disguise their blushes.

  Invar's face became dark. He glanced at Alfred and Deena, and then nodded for them to leave.

  "Well let's get you reprobates upstairs then. Got precious little time to train before you go in."

  Alfred and Deena gave Latherus a little bow. Deena crouched before him and took his hand once again.

  "We will ensure you are brought bread and stew tonight, and some of those grubs you all seem to like here. Please don't forget to eat. Angall would not want to see you suffer."

  Latherus tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her close. Deena had a momentary look of shock. He beckoned Alfred over and spoke in low tones.

  "You two must be careful."

  Deena and Alfred glanced at one another

  "We must?"

  Latherus waited until Invar had ushered the other aspirants off up the corridor and then drew Alfred and Deena in close.

  "It will sense your...attraction. The darkness. It will use your fear of loss against you. Don't let it into your heads."

  Deena's pale cheeks flushed and she pouted.

  "Attraction? Father Latherus you are mistaken."

  Latherus gave them both a wistful smile and shrugged.

  "I'm old and a little mad, but I'm not stupid."

  His look became grave. "And neither is the Sorrow."

  Alfred and Deena did not know where to look. Alfred was sure he had kept his overwhelming new feelings to himself. He had no intention of giving Deena that power over him. She cast him a fleeting glance and then looked to the floor. Latherus pulled them closer.

  "I know what it is you seek. The sleeping angels. If you find and commune with them, you can no longer be together as man and woman in the old way. That much holy power is the sort of thing that the gods used to create the Torrent in the first place. That much magic will explode like a falling star if combined, with as much destruction.”