Page 35 of Antioch


  “You mean I haven’t failed?”

  “Not yet.”

  Lot’s faced opened with delight. “Will you sponsor me, sir?”

  “Mmm, I suppose I could. But then I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. It’s a long way to Salem. I’ll have to think about it.”

  All that day and into the night, Lot did everything. He milked the cow, saw to Absinth, made the campfire and made them a meal, salt-pork sandwiches. Lot did the very best he could to make sure Abraham didn’t have to do anything, except relax. Abraham ended up with plenty of time to do that, but the boy’s incessant conversation made it impossible. Oh, sir, did you know… Oh, sir, I really want… Oh, sir… It had the old man grumbling and rubbing his temples.

  While cleaning up after dinner, Lot said, “The others left with their students too, sir!”

  “Mmrnmhrn, is that what you think?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. That’s obvious. I’ve always really wanted to join the church, myself. Oh, sir, did you know…”

  Abraham had had enough. He interrupted Lot with, “The Crucible of Resolve…”

  Lot shut up.

  “…is symbolic of everything you’ll do. Silence is more important than - anything - boy. You’re hoping to one day take the same vow of silence that I have. How old are you?”

  “Fifteen, sir.”

  “Mmm, fifteen… you’d be thirty if you never failed. You can’t even imagine the pressures of being a man, much less those of being in the church. Do you know how old I am?”

  Lot found it difficult to tell when Abraham was talking to him and when he was talking to himself. He replied, “No, sir.”

  “Eighty-seven. I don’t think I’ll be alive in another fifteen years. Do you still want to do this?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Abraham nodded and became very serious. “Then you must obey me. Do you understand?”

  Lot couldn’t believe it. It was happening! “Oh, yes, sir!”

  “More important than that, today is September thirty-first. From right now…” He let that sink in. “…until sunset of this day next year, you may not speak. Do you understand?”

  Lot nodded vigorously.

  Abraham was impressed again. Over the years, he’d witnessed many initiates answer that second question. They’d say, “yes, sir!” or, “anything you say!” or, “my liege.” He had nothing but contempt for when they said my liege and was glad to see them fail that way, for any spoken answer broke their silence. The Circle was not interested in a boy who couldn’t follow that one, simple rule: keep your mouth shut.

  Abraham lay down on his blanket. Already the night was more serene. He went to sleep without any trouble, listening to the fire’s crackle and the hooting of an owl. Lot had been expecting more ceremony than that. He sat on his feet, overwhelmed by his good fortune and didn’t sleep at all that night because of his joy.

  By the time Abraham woke up, rubbing his eyes and stretching, Lot had breakfast made, salt-pork sandwiches. The animals were packed and ready to go.

  “Mmm, we’re still alive. Good of you to keep a look out, boy.”

  Lot yawned in a smile.

  Abraham said, “Careful…” and then chuckled to himself as Lot’s pulse quickened.

  That day, Abraham enjoyed the quiet for the first few hours. Then he became lonely for conversation and started trying to trick Lot into speaking. It was his duty to test initiates anyway.

  Abraham searched in his pack as they rode along. “Do you want an apple, boy?”

  Lot nodded but Abraham stayed turned away for a long time, forcing Lot to wait. When Abraham finally faced him and held up the fruit, Lot nodded again. Abraham tossed it over to him and said, “I forgot your name. What was it again?” That attempt was just insulting. Lot raised an eyebrow and took a bite out of his apple.

  Abraham stroked his beard. “Mmm, now I’ll have to wait a whole year just to find out what your name is... I should have asked you a few more questions first.”

  At camp that night, the forest chittering around them, Abraham lay down with his hands behind his head. “These bauran devils are everywhere from what I’ve been told. So, if you have any trouble tonight, just shout out my name and I’ll try to help you. You’ll have to shout a lot, though. I’m hard of hearing and difficult to wake.”

  Lot’s nerves sprang and he looked around. The joy of being on crucible was starting to fade as he became more exhausted. And, being out in the wilderness had felt much safer before what had happened in Antioch.

  The next morning, Abraham nudged him. “Boy. Boooyeee. Time to get up.”

  Lot didn’t remember having fallen asleep. He shot up in a panic with his face and hands flared, astounding Abraham by not crying out. The old man was beyond impressed then - he was amused - and started planning a more creative way to trick a word out of the boy.

  The crucible of resolve wasn’t normally spent in the constant presence of the Circle’s templar. Most initiates who had completed it had escaped with accidental speech at one time or another during the course of the year, in the haze of waking up or in the moment they found an insect crawling on their skin, simply because there hadn’t been a paladin around to hear it. Lot’s would be a difficult test.

  That day Abraham was the one to incessantly converse.

  “Things in their natural way work the way they’re supposed to, boy. Men, beasts, plants, they all do what they’re meant to do and the world works. It has an order to it. When things start doing otherwise, that’s when you’ve got a problem. That’s when a good, natural thing becomes a devil. For two hundred years, the church’s mission has been to keep things the way they are. The way they’re supposed to be. Sometimes that means stamping out a devil.”

  “Now, these bauran are aberrations, without a doubt, but they’re strange examples to say the least. A better example of what I’m talking about would be oh, say… a gunder. Normally not a danger to people, but if he doesn’t think the way he’s supposed to, all of a sudden he becomes terrifying. You’ve never seen something so quick and so savage. Have you ever had a bad gunder where you’re from? One that had to be hunted down?”

  Lot shook his head. He’d never even heard the word “gunder” before. They used a different word for that creature in the north and none of Lot’s people had ever seen one. The King’s Men had destroyed all the northern gunders a long time ago. Lot didn’t know of them as the half human crossbreeds they really were either. The stories he’d heard made them out to be a creepy kind of wood-geek.

  Abraham made a raking motion over the scars on his face. “These are a gunder’s.”

  Lot stared.

  “Naturally, a gunder doesn’t have a taste for man’s flesh and is afraid of him. If they did, have a taste for us that is, there’d be no gunders or there’d be no men. That’s the truth. But, they’re meant to eat deer, and that’s good, the way it’s supposed to be. Every once in a while, however, one of them doesn’t work the way he’s supposed to... There are gunders in these woods, you know.”

  Lot was suspicious of Abraham’s trickery by then, but stiffened up and glanced around regardless.

  “There are outlaws in these mountains as well, evil men. When men do things they’re not supposed to do, that makes them devils too. Did you know that? Rape, murder, heresy, these are the unforgivable evils of men, mortal sins. When men do them, they’re devils too.”

  All that day through the forest, Abraham described different kinds of devils and the gruesome things they did to people. He mentioned gaffots and Lot recognized them by the description. In the north, they called those vampires. By the time they were at the campfire, Abraham had done his very best to convince Lot they were surrounded in the world by legions of evil.

  The old man smacked on a salt-pork sandwich. “Mmm, once you’ve been ordained, you can never look back. To fight against the devils, you must become a devil yourself. That’s why our vows are so important. Men aren’t supposed to be this powerful. It’s unnatural. By
taking our vows, we agree to become devils on a leash - a leash of strict, inhibiting law. The other devils can see the evil in us too and often mark us as one of their own.” He again made the raking gesture over his face.

  Lot definitely knew what Abraham was trying to do and was frightened silly nonetheless.

  Abraham yawned. “Oh, it must be late. I’ll just turn in. Now remember, if you hear anything, you shout out my name. You’ve got to be vigilant, boy, and quick to shout. Some of the things I’ve told you about can gut a man before he can even scream. Especially if he’s not wearing any armor. Mmm, I’ve just thought of something. Fifteen years from now, oh, most likely more than that, you’re going to fail quite a few crucibles if you make it through any of them at all. Anyway, when you’re middle-aged, we’ll have to look into finding someone who can make you a sleeve like mine. It helps protect you from the claws and the teeth, you see. Alright, then. Goodnight.”

  Lot wasn’t about to have a good night. He twitched at every noise he heard in the forest. Then, when he knew for sure something was actually approaching, he shivered and listened to it come, hoping it was only an investigating deer, or better yet, a rabbit. It was not.

  Lot watched, petrified, as a silent, black-eyed stranger shuffled out of the dark into their campfire’s light. He knew what it was right away - a murdering gunder rapist. The bauran was upon him before he could react. It pushed him down and seemed to be trying to rip off his clothes. Lot tried to get away but it was too strong. He remembered that he could shout for Abraham. He kept his mouth clamped and fought.

  As he kicked and flailed against the monster above him, its smoke fell down into his eyes and rode his breath into his lungs. Lot coughed. He tried as hard as he could to stay quiet, but he couldn’t keep from coughing.

  The bauran’s weight suddenly lifted away and there was a sound - whock.

  Lot didn’t see what had happened. He was grinding his palms into his eye-sockets from the pain and trying to hold his breath, trying to force his lungs to obey. They wouldn’t. With every cough, a spasm of remorse swept through his body, because he thought he was failing to remain silent. Each involuntary convulsion was quickly followed by a renewed determination to at least stop the next one.

  Abraham had never witnessed such a raw display of willpower. He put Lot to sleep, eradicating the infection instantly. Lot wouldn’t remember any of it. Abraham was sorry then for having tormented him and said, “Don’t worry, boy. Coughing doesn’t count.”

  ***

  They followed a path steadily upward into the mountains. The sawmill blades screamed from miles away. At first Lot thought it was the screech of some awful devil Abraham had told him about. But, it was too constant for that, too mechanical. Before long they walked their mounts in toward the wooden buildings of Sawmill Proper. They moved at a slower pace than the sailors would a year from then. It was near evening and it was cold outside.

  Abraham surveyed the town contemptuously. “Mount Tabor Sawmill. I have never known a more lawless den of drunken lumberjacks. We must be cautious.”

  Lot smiled at him. Lumberjacks crossed the street, wearing red plaid shirts and big boots. Women made their way through town too, in dresses and pretty braids. The sounds of business being done came from all around. It was a welcome return to civilization.

  Abraham said, “We’ll stop here for the night and move on for Salem tomorrow. It’s a longer way to there and harder than we’ve had so far. Also, there’s a man here I want to see.”

  They tied Absinth and their cow to a post outside of Logan’s Tavern. Some of the townsfolk recognized Abraham’s habit from when Gabriel had come weeks before. They laughed, expecting soon to hear some more preaching in the street. Abraham lifted his caligan from the saddle and slung it around his waist, glaring at those townsfolk before going inside.

  When they passed through the swinging doors, Abraham was severely disappointed. “This isn’t a tavern. It’s a saloon!” Lot peeked around from behind him. Logan’s smelled like sawdust and something delicious. There was a big, warm fire in there too.

  Carter, Miller and some of the gang were sharing a meal at the table by the fireplace. They were in the middle of a discussion about impending revolution. Miller said, “We do all the work and they take all the money. It isn’t right. What we should do is stop paying our taxes. Hell, we should shut down the sawmill!” Some of them nodded and agreed.

  Carter said, “Hold on, we’d have the law all over us if we did that. Let’s keep our heads and pick our battles. No need to rush in to anything.”

  Miller said, “Let them come. We’ll wait for them over the ravine. We’ll drop an avalanche on them.” There was more nodding and agreeing to that.

  Logan ran the bar. He was a rough man who catered to rough customers. When he saw Abraham and Lot come in, he brought everyone’s attention to them. “Looky here! Fancy britches, fella. What can I get for you and your little boyfriend?” The outlaws stopped talking to have a look.

  Abraham went closer. “I don’t have any money. I’ll accept whatever you offer us for free.”

  Logan said, “You’ll get what you pay for here, granddad.”

  “I’m a man of the church! Where is your honor?”

  Logan looked around incredulously. “Same place as your money?” The tavern laughed.

  “Fine. Tell me where I can find Samuel then. He’d be dressed as I am.”

  “You mean that big fella with the neck?” Logan motioned at his throat.

  “No, no… shorter, missing teeth.” Abraham motioned at his mouth.

  Logan looked over Abraham’s scars. “You fellas ought to buy some helmets.”

  Sawyer the drunk was at the bar. He said, slowly and seemingly about to fall asleep, “Logan, you… hodger. This here’s one o’ them preachers out a’ Antioch. Don’t you know nothin?”

  Abraham did not like the Circle being referred to as preachers.

  Sawyer said, “You’d better feed him…” And then he pointed at Logan with a wavering finger for a full three seconds before continuing, “cause if’n you don’t, he’ll spit on you somethin’ fierce!”

  Logan laughed. “Don’t spit on me now, preacher.”

  Abraham was disgusted. “This drunken fool is referring to hospital. I’m a healer.” It was his duty to offer it, whether hospitality was offered to him or not. He glared around the room as if he’d rather butcher them all than heal even one. “Does anyone in here require hospital?” None of those men wanted some strange witchdoctor laying hands on them anyway.

  Sawyer said, “Oh yeah, that’s the right, his spittle. It’s magic!”

  “No, no, you idiot! Hospital! Hospital!”

  The tavern laughed.

  Miller was gruff. “What’s a healer need a sword like that for? Are you one of the king’s men?”

  “I don’t serve a king.”

  Logan said, “Well, if you’re not buying, you’d best be on your way, healer. I don’t let just anyone loaf around in here, bothering my paying customers.”

  Abraham nodded. “Fine. Come, boy. We’re not welcome.” Lot’s mouth fell open in silent dismay. It was cold outside and he wanted some of whatever those men at the table were eating. He was sick of salt-pork sandwiches. Lot pulled out a coin purse and showed it to his master. Abraham said, “Mmm, spend your money how you like. I’ll wait for you by the fire.”

  As Abraham went to sit, and Logan went about trying to make a deal with a mute for food, Sawyer said, “Uh, oh, here he comes, Carter, clean your ears!” Some chortling and ooh-woo’ing followed.

  Abraham stopped when he heard that name. He repeated it, “Carter?”

  Carter was strong, confident and smiled where he sat. “That’s right.”

  Abraham narrowed in on him. “What do you know about a gang of outlaws that’s been causing trouble around here?”

  Carter sighed. “You’re not going to start up about God, are you? Your friend tried that already. Look around. It didn’t work
.” Some of them chuckled about their godlessness.

  “Mmrnmhrn… A man told me those outlaws raped his wife. What do you know about that?”

  Carter shrugged. He couldn’t control everything his men did. “Things happen in the world.”

  “So, do you confess to it then?”

  “Sure, why not. What are you going to do about it, eh, you skinny old branch? Save my soul?”

  Abraham opened the way like a floodgate as the lumberjacks laughed. Those men couldn’t perceive the power washing over them. Abraham, however, could see riin better than what he could with his eyes. To him, the tavern was filled with ghosts.

  Carter slumped over unconscious and hit the table with his face. Miller and the others looked at him, wondering what had happened.

  While they were distracted, Abraham drew the caligan from behind his back. Holding it underhanded like a giant dagger, he reared up and then slammed it down through the reflection of Carter’s heart, stapling him to the table with a violent - KACHUNK! Forks jumped and rattled on the plates. Everyone in the tavern leapt out of their chairs.

  Miller roared and grabbed his axe. Then he collapsed. Another man drew a long knife from his belt. He collapsed. Abraham linked his hands, waiting to see if anyone else would try to avenge Carter. The rest of the ghosts swept away from him, collecting along the edges of the room.

  Abraham took his caligan by the handle and pulled it out, leaving a three inch slot in Carter’s body. Blood spurted from the wound and dotted their dinners, fried mountain catfish and potatoes. Abraham stood over Miller and said, “Any other rapists or murderers in here?”

  The tavern emptied through its swinging doors. Logan ran out through the kitchen, leaving those men to die. Lot stood by the bar, stunned, holding his change purse by the strings.

  The riin faded in Carter as his blood drained onto the floor, streaming from the hole in the table and over the sides. Abraham gestured at Miller. “What do you suppose this one’s done, boy?” Lot couldn’t say. Abraham wiped his blade on Miller’s shirt and then put it away. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Unless Samuel gets here soon, this whole town is doomed. Is that a God for you? What do you think?”

  Lot didn’t say a word.

 
William Harlan's Novels