The Wandering Priest

The embers in Samuel’s jade pipe glowed brightly and its light suffused
through the semi-transparent stone as he inhaled deep the relaxing aroma of the
coltsfoot. He sat there weary, slumped in the chair, with his legs kicked out at
angles keeping him upright as he stared at the body. An amazing thing, the
mortal body, he thought to himself. At times so fragile, but when the soul is
filled with fervour it can become a tireless vessel of purpose that is seemingly
oblivious to pain, fear, and rent flesh. Eventually, though, the Fates focus
their attention on the rebellious thing and swiftly cut its thread, not
tolerating such an affront to their judgment. Samuel ran his eyes over the
motionless corpse again. This one was particularly insolent. He could see at
least five puncture wounds still oozing viscous red blood, some of which was
sopped up by the victim’s woolen robes, and that which was not eerily crept
along the cold tile and pooled where the stone flooring showed imperfection.
Several quite horrific burns scarred the face and the arms as well. In the best
places the skin was merely cracked and bright red, like some strange desert
mortal eyes have never seen. In the worst of places the flesh had boiled,
leaving pus filled bubbles, some of which had popped to leave hideous little
craters. If all this hadn’t been enough for the body to endure, the portions
that hadn’t been kissed by deadly flame were purple and swollen, indicating
several broken bones. He looked at them all in turn, and remembered how he felt
when he had inflicted each of them. No longer could he recognize the face that
he knew as well as his own. Its known lines and ridges shattered and bloodied
beyond anything even his own mother could see the familiar in. Yes, defiant,
this one, to the end. So much so that Samuel had worried, near the conclusion of
it all, that the Fates might cut his own thread before the other. But the Light
be praised, his spirit won out. Of course, he too would shed his mortal shell
soon, but that didn’t matter now. The other had already been plucked from the
Weave. He did put up quite a fight, though. Greater than any Samuel had been in
before, in fact. It wasn’t surprising, he supposed, considering the lineage.

Rifling around in his pocket belt, his groping hand finally felt the waxy
leaves of the chervil. He pulled the several remaining sprigs out and
unhurriedly put them in his mouth. He chewed them slowly, and let out a soft
sigh as their sweet aroma hit his nostrils. There was no rush now. The rhythmic
pattering that the blood from his open wounds made on the wood floor showed no
sign of slowing. It was relaxing in a way. It was a quiet reminder that the end
was fast approaching. A crimson timepiece, counting down to his oblivion. He
rolled his head back, sweeping his gaze across the dingy rented room. A shoddy
wooden bed covered with coarse hay sit in the corner, looking as if it would
instantly collapse should even a small rat, of which he was sure this place had
many, run across it. An equally run-down table, overturned in the heat of
battle, lay in the center of the room. Its former possessions were now also
strewn about haphazardly â€" some bent iron utensils, a shattered glass, and
some rancid looking meat splattered against the opposing wall. Given even all of
this, it seems his quarry had been living better than him. As his grandfather
always said, “The spoils to the wicked, the souls to the saints â€" that’s
the way of the world, my boy.†Though he never said so out loud as such
blasphemy was sure to get him a thorough caning, as a child he always mused to
himself that souls, being incorporeal, never had the same appeal as a fresh
baked apple pie spirited from a window sill. Samuel’s head swayed back and
forth, his world suddenly narrowing to a tiny pinprick of light.
Indistinguishable shadows flowed around the darkness that was now threatening to
envelop him. His last thought being of his grandpa, he decided, was not such a
bad one. With that, the gloom embraced him fully.

Laughing uncontrollably, Samuel raced through the tall grass of the meadow,
darting this way and that, trying to shake his pursuer. The golden stalks
whipped against his cheek as he turned his head rearward only to see the parting
grass gaining on him. The dazzling sun warmed his face from its perch high above
his head, and for a single moment time stopped as he breathed deep the summer
air that would forever remain his most favorite smell. That solitarily sweet
moment quickly ripped itself from Samuel as he suddenly felt the ground go out
from underneath him. Without thinking he threw his hands out in front of him to
brace himself against the fall. His body slammed against the side of the hole,
sending it spinning in a new direction that disoriented him even further before
finally hitting the ground hard with his body rigid, a loud pop echoing
throughout the cavern. Searing pain instantly shot up his right arm, and a small
cry escaped his lips. He touched the wound in attempts to nurse it, only to be
struck with yet another wave of blinding agony. The warmth of the sun that he
was relishing but a moment ago was now replaced by cold darkness. The dampness
of his surroundings instantly sapped the heat from his body, causing a powerful
shiver to run through his body. He could barely see the opening he’d fallen
into far above. The tiny amount of light that managed to reach him where he lay
wasn’t enough to see how grievous his wound was, but he could feel a warm,
sticky pool of blood on the ground next to his limp arm. Hot, salty tears poured
down his face, and for the first time ever, he felt truly alone. Panic started
to well up inside him as he slowly realized that he’d not heard his name at
all. No one was calling for him. He didn’t see the comforting silhouette of
another soul looking down at him from above. What if no one realized he was down
here? What if they thought he’d run home? His mind started filling with images
of giant rats and other creatures too terrifying to speak of clawing their way
around in the darkness, waiting patiently until the last of what little light
there was from above abandoned their intruder so that they could strike out at
him. He could almost feel their disgusting paws scratching his face and see
their yellowed teeth gnawing at his body as he screamed for mercy that creatures
of the night did not know how to give. As quickly as that terrible thought had
entered his mind it was banished in turn. A soft white ball of light, nestled
tenderly in the hands of his grandfather, brought warmth and peace to him all at
once as his tearful eyes stared into it, not able to look away despite how
painful the contrasting brightness was to his still adjusting eyes. His
grandfather’s deep azure eyes glimmered in the light as he assessed Samuel’s
wound in but a single glance. Samuel could now have a proper look at it as well.
It looked horrific, but from what his grandfather taught him, Samuel knew it was
a clean break and should mend well. Placing his hands over the wound Jeset bowed
his head, concentrating hard. Samuel’s entire arm started to prickle and heat
up. It felt odd, not painful, but not comfortable either. Nevertheless, he
watched in amazement as his flesh slowly began to knit itself back together. His
bone snapping back into place with a painless, but disconcerting pop, the wound
sealed itself entirely, leaving hardly any trace there had ever been anything
wrong with it. He moved it around slowly, rotating his wrist and wiggling his
fingers, testing if it retained the same dexterity as before, which of course it
did. As they sat there in a bubble of light surrounded by the darkness, Samuel
couldn’t have felt any safer. His grandfather softly lectured on the beauty of
the Light - lessons Samuel had heard thousands of times before and could have
just as easily recited them back to his grandfather, but Samuel loved to hear
them from Jeset. His low and gravelly voice steadily rumbled on, and it reminded
Samuel of a small rock slide tumbling down the side of a mountain. It made his
eyes heavy, and despite all he could do, they closed of their own volition. As
the landslide continued to glide softly into his mind, he slowly drifted off
into a deep sleep.

Samuel opened his eyes little by little, his mind not wanting to give up on
the prospect of further rest. The soft lantern light flickered weakly,
threatening to wink out of existence should too strong a breeze visit it. He
cringed slightly as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor, forcing him to
tip toe more hurriedly towards the open window. As he reached for the clasp to
secure the pane shut he noticed the immensity of the full moon that hung in the
sky. He loved staring at the moon and the countless stars. He imagined them as
being the campfires of a vast army of the Light, watching over him in the
darkness, and the moon his grandfather, keeping him safe with the that giant
globe of illumination, showing him the path and fending off the evils of the
night. A smile overtook him as he also thought of those of the Serenwilde.
He’d read countless fantastical stories of their worship of what they called
Mother Moon. He could imagine them out there in the forest right now, the full
moon above their heads, an immense fire blazing, and they dancing and
celebrating wildly. He was enthralled by the thought of so many gathered in one
place passionately and unabashedly showing their devotion to their beliefs.
While he knew that in many other ways they were savages, and he couldn’t ever
imagine living without the Light, he admired them for their ability to throw
formalities and rigid tradition to the wayside and just rejoice in their faith.
When some of his teachers were giving sermon, they could make even Lady Elohora
bored to tears. He was abruptly pulled away from his daydreaming as he heard the
hurried clicking of shoes making their way down the hallway. He couldn’t
imagine who would be out of their room this late. Certainly not one of the
students, it was strictly forbidden, and even though that didn’t stop some
from still wandering about, they would never be so stupid as to make that much
racket. No, this must be a teacher. He stood frozen, hardly even breathing, as
the clacking became louder and louder. The sound jarred his very soul,
penetrating the deepest regions of his being. They were close now, almost to his
door, reverberating throughout the hallway like thunder heralding the coming of
a great storm. Abruptly, the thunder stopped. The tempest had arrived at his
doorstep.

Without a knock, call, or any other normal courtesy, the doorknob slowly
turned, squeaking slightly as the metal parts worked themselves into motion. The
thought that perhaps this was neither a teacher nor a student suddenly pierced
his mind. Could an outsider even make it this far without being noticed? He
didn’t have time to dwell on the thought as the door started to slide open.
Glancing around the room, his eyes fixed on the open door of his armoire. He
dashed over to it and wedged himself inside, trying his best to make as little
noise as possible. It was cramped, but he managed to pull the door fully shut. A
small sliver of light streamed in from the room, and Samuel could see most of
his quarters when he angled his head just right. It was already uncomfortably
warm, but he wasn’t sure if he was sweating so much because of the stifling
heat inside the armoire or because of the unknown intruder about to creep into
what he had always before thought to be his safe place in the world. The door
creaked open further, affording enough room for his menacing guest to slip in.
The lithe figure stepped lightly into the room, moving gracefully and quickly
straight towards Samuel’s bed. He couldn’t see who or what it was, but
judging by the way it moved he was sure it was a woman. She was cloaked in white
robes lined with silver around the edges. She was smaller than him by far, but
something about her exuded danger â€" and power. She stood there with his back
to him staring at the empty bed. He didn’t know what she was waiting for, or
what she could possibly be thinking. His breathing had quickened, and although
he thought it was imperceptible, the figure turned her head slightly to one
side, as if straining to hear. Panic welled up in Samuel’s throat. Suddenly
his ash armoire felt less like a hiding place and more like a coffin â€" one
that he’d buried himself in. He was trapped there now, with no options. Silent
tears rolled down his cheeks as he came to the realization that she would find
him, and when she did she’d do whatever sinister thing she’d been intending,
and then some, for hiding from her. Catching his breath in his throat, he
realized she was no longer by his bed. He frantically cocked his head this way
and that trying to find his hunter to no avail. A shadow abruptly passed in
front him, blocking the light from the room. A small yelp escaped his lips as
the doors flung open, while an unexpectedly forceful hand grabbed a fistful of
his robes and ripped him from his hiding spot. His body crashed to the floor
hard, knocking the air from his lungs. As he struggled to take in a breath he
looked up through teary eyes at the figure leaning over him, and tried to bring
the image into focus.

“What in the Nil were you doing in there?†the figure said in a hushed,
but decidedly non-threatening voice. Samuel felt himself being lifted up off of
his back, and a new wave of dizziness hit him as the blood rushed out from his
head and back into his body in normal proportions. He finally had enough sense
about him to really look at his assailant for the first time, which left him
more speechless and confounded than before. Her hood had been pushed back in the
tussle revealing bleached hair that shimmered in the lamp light like the
heavenly sands of Celestia. It cascaded over her shoulders and a few errant
strands covered her face. Behind them, two piercing blue eyes studied him
intensely, their acute attention making him shudder down to the very core of his
being like mighty ocean waves crashing against stone, slowly wearing away at it
until they found a crack, and their way beneath the surface. Thin, bluish lips
deeply contrasted her alabaster skin and reminded Samuel of the irises that
bloomed in the springtime high in the mountains. Samuel realized that her
eyebrows were arched questioningly at him, expecting an answer. Still
transfixed, he tried to get something resembling a complete sentence out, but
failed miserably. She rolled her eyes, and in one fluid movement pulled Samuel
to his feet and started to shove him out the door

“Wait! Where are we going!?†he finally managed to protest, though she
ignored him completely. Even though her legs were much shorter, she seemed to be
striding confidently and unhurriedly, while Samuel was practically running to
keep up as she dragged him by the hand, fully aware that if he should slow or
fall, she may have no problem in the least with dragging him in that fashion. He
thought about digging his heels into the ground in protest and not moving until
the mysterious woman explained herself, but he wasn’t sure he could stop her,
let alone be in any kind of position to make demands. Besides, he figured that
if she wanted him dead, she would have killed him in his room instead of
dragging him elsewhere to accomplish the same task and risk being discovered.
She led him through hallway after hallway until eventually he had no idea where
he was. The passages slowly transformed from the well lit and maintained ones he
was used to, the kind with grand tapestries and seemingly always filled with
novices, teachers, and servants, into ones in obvious disrepair and devoid of
life. As they hurried through the twisting passageways, the air became colder
and the light dimmer until they were racing to a destination unknown to him
almost in complete darkness. Though this caused Samuel to trip on occasion,
nearly sending him sprawling, it didn’t seem to have the least bit of effect
on his companion, who merely grumbled to herself whenever his missteps slowed
her stride momentarily. Samuel had no idea how long they had been winding their
way down through the lower regions of the cathedral, but his weary legs and
racing heart hoped it wouldn’t last much longer. As if reading his mind, his
diminutive shepherd stopped dead in her tracks, causing him to crash into her.
Awkwardly flopping to the ground, he shook his head trying to gather his wits.
He looked up in amazement as the tiny woman stood over him still, seemingly
never losing her footing despite his larger body having slammed into her. She
simply sighed and pulled him up on his feet. She turned away from him and
slipped a small brass key into a door he’d not noticed before. The lock
clicked softly as it recognized its proper partner and as the door opened, harsh
torchlight bled into the hallway. Samuel warily stood back against the opposite
wall, but she signaled to him in a matter of fact way that told him she didn’t
have time for his timid nature, and without even realizing it, he found himself
moving through the entrance.

Samuel shielded his still adjusting eyes from the blazing torchlight as he
stepped into a rather small room. Glancing around quickly, he noted that the
room was sparsely furnished - a small side table containing a plate holding the
remains of fruit and cheeses that had been picked over, most likely by the
room's occupant while they were waiting, a silver goblet devoid of liquid, and
small leather-bound book, a few rickety thatched chairs, and a rolled up
sleeping mat in the corner. In the center of the room was a chair more grand in
appearance, reminding Samuel of something royalty would lounge in, and in it sat
a stern looking Merian woman whose gaze and garb bore a look that paired her
status with the gilded seat.

“Samuel. I have been waiting some time for you to arrive.†Her voice was
soft and heavy like velvet, and she shot a cursory glance to his travel
companion. Looking back at him, her eyes softened somewhat, “You must have
many questions. Unfortunately, many of the answers are beyond me or the time I
have. These are not precisely the conditions I wished to meet under, but the
Fates rarely weave the patterns we expect.â€

She was right about the questions â€" thousands were racing through his mind.
But like an orchestra of instruments each playing their own individual tune, the
questions blurred together creating nothing but drumming noise in his head. He
could do no better than simply stare back at her.

Seemingly sizing him up, she continued in a matter of fact tone. “You can no
longer stay here. The Light has chosen a path for you that is different from
your peers. You are to proceed immed-“

“Wait, what?! I can’t leave now.†Samuel clenched his fists, turning his
knuckles white. “I’ve worked so hard. I’m nearly ready to take my vows!
Who are you anyway?!†Samuel finally caught himself and took a deep breath. He
glowered at her, and for a moment he faltered, unsure of whether to press on
with his verbal assault or to ready himself to block her own set of blows. She
didn’t give him the slightest chance to think about it, though.

“Samuel Halendrad!†The Merian woman shot out of her seat, bringing herself
to her full height, which was considerable. Her voice rang through the room
resolutely. “All you need to know is that I am one not to be trifled with. All
you need to know is that anything you have done thus far in your short little
life is nothing compared to what you will face in the future.â€

“All you need to know,†she hissed, “is that you are to follow all orders
to the letter as they will be passed down from the highest reaches of our
Order.â€

She looked at a horror stricken Samuel, and relaxed her posture somewhat.

“The Light has chosen something great for you, Samuel. Something unique. It
will not be glamourous, nor materially rewarding, but you will be spiritually
fulfilled beyond all measure should you be successful.†She handed him a white
envelop, sealed with blood red wax.

“This will give you all of the details. Sister Kelindria,†she gestured
towards the blonde woman who’d stolen him from his room, “does not know your
task, and should not. No one is to know your tasks but you, without exception.
She will, however, see you out of the city and provide you with the necessary
funds for the first leg of your journey.â€

Samuel nodded slowly as he limply took the letter from her hand. His mind was
numb. Sister Kelindria slowly urged him towards the door.

“Remember, Samuel,†the Merian woman called out behind him, “the Light is
always with you. Walk always with it.â€

As the door closed behind the newly minted traveler and his escort, another
Merian materialized out of thin air in the room.

“He’s not ready, Mother. Not nearly.â€

The imposing Merian slumped back into her chair with a sigh. “I know, Sister
Belecia, I know. But we have no choice. The other has made himself known in the
world, and so now must this one. We dare not go against the prophecy. Samuel
will have to find his own path now, and it will be on us to guide him best we
can.â€

She gazed longingly at the door. “I only hope sending him out prematurely
won’t get him cut from the Weave before he’s able to do what must be.â€