Читать книгу Wind - Daniel Mello - Страница 10

The inner bailey of Hyrendell Castle was packed with the village’s people as they all waited for the public execution of the king’s first McCloud prisoner. Since the inception of the Purification Decree, the nervousness of Hyrendell Village exploded with rumors of people being stolen into the night by the king’s guards. For the past month, between ducking around corners and scarcely leaving their homes, the villagers had been anxiously awaiting the news of the first captive. Soon enough, parchment fliers began to appear, listing the date and time of the first execution:

Hear this, all the people of His Majesty’s kingdom ~

The Purification has begun.

The first cleansing ceremony will be held on the first Monday in the month of July, shortly after middle-day. The King commands attendance from everyone who holds allegiance to His kingdom. Those who do not attend will be considered in alliance with the traitorous McCloud Clan and will be put to death.

The skies evinced the morbidity of that sorrowful day; throughout the morning, light drizzles of rain had come and gone, and the sun glowed dimly as it rose in its unceasing arc behind thunderous, indecisive clouds. At dawn, the village began to stir, for no one could sleep knowing that the first execution in one hundred years was upon them.

Fearing to be alone, covering their faces and turning away from the violating eyes of the stationed guards, the villagers counted on safety in numbers as they traveled five at a time into the castle’s hold. Passing though the ivy-laden gatehouse and under the threatening wrought iron portcullis, the villagers were herded though the lesser outer bailey until they shuffled into the massive inner courtyard.

The dying landscape was split with a single gravel path down the center, and the dull Earthstone walls of the inner bailey surrounded the nervous villagers like an inescapable barricade. Opposite the entrance, toward the northern end of the bailey was a grand oakwood stage set before the majestic oaken Main Hall doors. And upon the stage sat the Machine, a grotesque device constructed of blood-stained iron and dead wood, its rotting beams protruding into the air like the festering arms of a decaying troll holding a rusty blade of steel. The stench of moldering death contaminated the wind as a southern sea breeze folded over the castle’s stone towers, smearing the virulent reek into the faces of the terrified villagers.

However, a brief twinkle of peace was to be found in the form of a humble man as he curved his way through the shivering crowd. Dressed in an ochre broadcloth robe, hood up to deflect the chilling breeze, the man slowly worked his way to the front of the gathering, pausing now and then to acknowledge the villagers that noticed him and reached out to him for comfort.

“Oh, Father, can you do something to stop this?!”

“Please, Father, pray with us, pray to God with us to stop this madness?!”

The warm chocolate eyes of Father Stephanus could barely glance into the trembling faces within the crowd. Everyone was terrified, everyone was helpless. His natural humility provided an advantage in circumstances like these, and he bowed his head in reverence. Soon, all of the villagers within eyesight immediately followed suit, longing to revel in the uniquely passionate style of prayer that defined their priest.

“Lord God, we pray that you hear us this day, listen to the anguish from our hearts, Lord. If there is anything we can do, Lord God, please allow us to do your bidding, Lord, fill us with the empowering love of your light, Lord God. We pray that you work your divine influence, Lord God, to cease this madness that the king has begun, Lord. We pray that you show yourself upon the king, Lord God, bless him with your love and peace, Lord God, bring him into the light, Lord God! And we all pray for the soul that is trapped, Lord God, whoever it is, Lord, may you accept them into your kingdom, Lord God, and release them from this hell, Dear Lord. In your eternal and benevolent name, Lord God, we pray to you! Amen.”

Stephanus slowly eased himself from his invocation and glanced up at the sobbing villagers. Some of them were drying their eyes, some of them glancing toward the sky in a final bid of gratitude, and Stephanus reached his hands out to hold their trembling fingers, if just for one moment God would choose to work through him and bring some warmth to ease their cold terror.

“Thank you, Father, thank you so much,” the villagers repeated as Stephanus slowly excused himself from the crowd. He continued to work his way through the gathering, stopping briefly to say “god bless you” here and there, soon finding himself standing at the eastern edge of the inner bailey, to the right of the horrible Machine, underneath an elaborate balcony decorated with a columned railing and two flanking guards.

Within minutes, from atop the inner bailey’s parapet walk, a short trumpeted sequence introduced the arrival of the king of Hyrendell onto the balcony directly above Father Stephanus. The entirety of the gathering of villagers inside the courtyard shuffled themselves around to face the king as he walked out onto the terrace, followed by his Steward. Quickly, silence fell among the crowd as they feared what would come next.

The king glared out among the villagers as if looking for a traitor within the crowd. He noticed how some of them were huddled together, gathering warmth from one another to fight against the bitter drizzle, while others would simply turn away when their eyes met his. This was a good sign; after all, they were cold and wet, tired and afraid, yet they were still here. What a perfect way to secure control.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“THERE ARE ENEMIES AMONG YOU,” King Nielius shouted, his voice booming off the parapet walls. And he watched how some of the villagers began to look around at the others suspiciously.

The smile twitched again.

“Some of them may be your friends. And some of them may even be within your own family. In these dreadful times, we must protect the security of our kingdom at all costs. I have learned that the traitorous McCloud clan wishes to rip that security away from you!”

He grabbed at the air and tore it away, giving the uneducated villagers a visual they would understand. Immediately, some in the crowd gasped.

The twitch.

“I declare to you as your king,” Nielius yelled, eyes beginning to burn, “I will hunt down these wretched McClouds and extinguish their plot against us!”

The king walked slowly to the edge of the balcony. Rage began to filter his vision as he looked out upon the petrified gathering. It was a perfect sight. Everyone was terrified into silence; it seemed they would give up their own child to the Decree if it would save the kingdom from traitors. Now there was no way the Legendary King could return, especially after what he had in store this day.

“Today will mark the beginning of the purification of Hyrendell! We have caught one of the McCloud conspirators, and they will pay for their sins against us.”

King Nielius caught his breath, and eased his panting chest. The thrill of absolute power snaked through his veins, throbbed in his temples. And behind the king, smiling easily at the terrified crowd, Lotharius simply watched the domination roll out.

“Bring forth the traitor!”

A drum roll cadence immediately burst from atop the parapet walls, filling the inner bailey with a progressive rhythm. All of the villagers packed inside the courtyard shuffled round to face the rotting stage, with its monstrous statue, as the huge oak doors of the Main Hall began to creak open. Darkness split from between the doors as they swung back to crash against the hall walls with a metallic thud, leaving a black void to silently scream at the gathering like a horrid mouth. It seemed to suck the hope from Hyrendell Castle itself.

The villagers trembled as they held each other, staring into the abyss, waiting for the prisoner within. Father Stephanus prayed, deep inside his mind, spouting off verses of scripture as fast as they would come to him, as he trained his eyes on the gaping hole. And King Nielius waited patiently up on the balcony as his empty eyes flickered over the deadly machine, groping its beautiful corroding parts.

The entire courtyard held its breath when it first heard the scrape of tiny metal objects against stone. The piercing shriek from deep inside the abyss echoed around the parapet walls, its slow rhythmic pattern accentuating the cadence perfectly.

The form of a giant man oozed from the void, pale grey against the darkness. As he approached the entrance to the Hall, more of his bulbous features became illuminated by the overcast light. A big, hairy belly that bounced with the man’s sluggish steps was set between a gruesome mask and skin-tight trousers cut from rugged black leather. In his massive hand was the end of a rusted chain, like a tiny leash streaming into the void behind. As the chain swung, it scraped against the Earthstone floor of the Hall, releasing the chilling metallic screech into the courtyard.

When the ogre of a man reached the grotesque Machine, he reeled in the chain, giving it a final tug to pull the prisoner into the filtered light.

“No!” Father Stephanus gasped. “It can’t be —”

The rusty chain leash curved up past silvery hair, curled around petite wrists, and twisted around a frail neck. Tiny blue eyes streamed sorrowful tears down sad, wrinkled features as the prisoner looked up into the impossibly crowded courtyard.

The terrified villagers cringed at the sight of the tiny old woman standing near the giant machine. Her diminutive size was easily recognizable against the contrasting height of the rotting contraption.

“Hildabrand, no!” yelled someone from inside the crowd.

Father Stephanus waited no longer. He turned toward the balcony at once. “King Nielius, I’m here at the request of our God. Please, your majesty, stop this madness!”

“Ah, Father, you made it!” the king said as he peered over the railing. “And I thought you didn’t have the stomach for diplomacy.”

“This is no diplomacy, king, you know that.”

“I know of traitors against me!” the king roared, boring his eyes into the gentle features of Father Stephanus. However, the Priest remained stable.

“I implore you, King Nielius, to see how this woman is innocent. Our God says to forgive those who trespass against us, not to punish them. Certainly, you can see the wisdom in that.”

Hearing the king yell at someone in the crowd caught the attention of the gathering, and soon all of the villagers were listening intently as Father Stephanus pleaded to the ruler of Hyrendell. Though the conversation was distorted slightly when it reached the people at the rear of the crowd, it nonetheless began to revitalize the dying hope of the entire assembly.

“Executioner,” King Nielius roared, “place the traitor into the Machine!” At once, the bulbous man obeyed.

Father Stephanus continued quickly, “this woman has done nothing wrong, your highness! Tell her of what charges she is to be killed for!”

“You want to know her charges, Father,” Nielius growled, “DO YOU ALL WANT TO KNOW HER CHARGES?!”

He didn’t wait for an answer. “She is charged for being a McCloud, a certified traitor of the crown. She is charged with conspiracy against the kingdom!”

“This woman is innocent!” Stephanus yelled back.

“NO ONE IS INNOCENT!” King Nielius thundered to the crowd below him, his temples raging with fury.

“Your God is giving you a chance to show the people of your kingdom how merciful you can be. Prove it to them!”

Nielius curved his dark, burning eyes to pierce through the glow of Father Stephanus’ chocolate irises, but to no avail; the Priest’s faith was stronger than it seemed.

“My God has already given me the world,” Nielius happily fumed.

And just then, from behind the king, and in front of him, from deep inside the castle and high up in the sky, the silky demonic voice he craved and feared spewed forth into his mind. It splintered the inside of his skull as it drug an ethereal claw down his spine, commanding a shiver to prickle his skin.

“ThE KinGdoM tRuLy iS YoUrs. Do wHaT yOU WilL. I wIll Be AlWayS HeRe FoR YOu.”

Both warmth and cold fear washed over the king like a boiling sea. He closed his eyes to cringe against the security of emotion, and revel in the emptiness of dread. Peace was to be found there, in the depths of that voice. It cradled him like child, protected him from himself.

When King Nielius opened his eyes, he was staring at the decaying Machine set upon the oaken stage. Its bloody steel reinforcements glimmered in the dull light. And strapped inside its rotting wooden beams lay the first of his captures, the first of his hunt.

His smile twitched again.

“Executioner, are you ready?!” Nielius boomed. The crowd glanced toward the giant man. Stephanus could’ve sworn, if he swore, that the executioner hesitated before he answered with a nod. He decided to capitalize on the moment.

A particular verse from scripture flashed through his mind. “Your Highness, before you kill this poor woman, allow me a prayer on her behalf. It’s the least you could do.”

King Nielius bent over the railing to peer at Father Stephanus; the poor priest looked rather defeated. “If it would settle the villagers, do as you wish. But make it quick!”

Stephanus shuffled his way through the crowd until he was near the hideous Machine. When he reached the stage, he jumped up the steps toward the disgusting contraption and its shivering prisoner. The executioner glared at the priest, yet Father Stephanus met his eyes with practiced compassion. A twinkle sparkled in the executioner’s blue eyes.

Concentrating on that twinkle, Stephanus threw back his hood to kneel before the pungent, rotting Machine. The stench of old blood gagged him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He found the old woman’s hand and grasped it firmly.

“Hildabrand, is that right?” Father Stephanus gazed into her glimmering blue eyes.

“Yes, dear, that’s it,” she sniffled. “Why, Father, why is this happening to me? I didn’t even get to see her again.” Hildabrand’s frown rocked Stephanus’ heart, yet he stayed his tears for the sake of promoting faith.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, has a plan much greater than we know. Believe as it is written, even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil, for You are with us.” It took everything he had for Stephanus to steady his voice.

Hildabrand closed her eyes in worship, releasing a few tears.

A sob burst from Stephanus, but he controlled it. “Not even now, Hildabrand, has He ever left you. Your innocence will never be forgotten.” Stephanus didn’t know who ‘she’ was, but acknowledged it all the same. “And you will see her again.”

“If you see her before I do, tell her that I love her with all my heart,” Hildabrand sighed. “And that I will be waiting for her alongside her parents.”

Stephanus gazed deeply into the gorgeous eyes of Hildabrand, giving her all of the faith that he could muster. And soon, the old woman turned away and closed her eyes. The Priest raised himself from her side and took a step backward to address the stage as a whole, making sure the executioner was in sight.

“Dear Father,” he spoke, loud enough for all the courtyard to hear, “we pray in your name to take Hildabrand McCloud into your gentle and loving arms, Lord. Accept her into your perfect kingdom, Lord God, and release her from this horrible fate. Lord, we pray you remind all of us,” he said with a piercing glance into the executioner’s eyes, “that you are the way, the truth, and the light, and that you forgive us because you have the glory, Lord God, you are the One who completes us, Lord, you are the One who allows us to choose an eternity of emptiness or an eternity of peace, Lord God —”

Nielius braced himself against the railing of the balcony as he clutched his chest. He ground his teeth against prayers to God, but he allowed it because the people would be more willing to follow his orders if they believed he accepted their God. His heart thundered at the words Father Stephanus spoke, weakening Nielius’ legs, but he held fast against the force, resisted its penetrative will. And as Stephanus wrapped up his prayer, Nielius quickly righted himself to stand like a commander once more. “Are you finished?!”

An ancient word sprang to mind. “Tetelestai,” Stephanus whispered. “It is finished.”

He glanced one more time at the executioner, only to notice his eyes were watery. It actually hit him. Somewhere deep down, that huge man craved to know God.

The king’s booming voice shocked Stephanus from his gaze. “Now, my people, let us show the traitors of the crown what happens to those who trespass against us!”

The king glared at the executioner. “Release the blade!”

Stephanus turned to watch as the executioner walked right up and grabbed a large wooden handle on the side of the bloody machine. He closed his eyes, waiting for the shriek of the falling blade. But it never came.

For some reason, the executioner didn’t pull. Something stayed his hand.

Quickly, Stephanus caught the glossy eyes of the executioner, then turned toward King Nielius who was shaking with rage.

“EXECUTIONER, I COMMAND YOU TO RELEASE THAT BLADE!”

Stephanus turned back toward the executioner as the giant hand pried its fingers away from the wood, releasing its hold on the lever. Lumbering, the hairy belly stepped back from the machine. In one fluid motion, the executioner tore off his hood to reveal a balding man, tears streaming down his face.

“Thank you, Lord,” Stephanus smiled.

“My name is Bernhart,” the portly man yelled. “And I am forgiven!”

“AHH,” Nielius screamed as he incinerated with rage. Instantly, he stepped to one of his flanking guards and ripped the bow from his back. He nocked an arrow and released it over the stage.

It screamed through the air, whizzing past Stephanus to smack Bernhard square in the chest. Father Stephanus whipped around only to watch as the giant man fell to the stage with a trembling thud.

“NO!” Stephanus yelled. Quickly, he tore his gaze from the dying executioner to glare at King Nielius. And resting on his fist was another arrow, already aimed.

The king loosed the shot.

Stephanus jumped to the machine and caught Hildabrand’s glimmering eyes just as the arrow sank into the wooden lever, releasing the blade.