Saints Quest (chapter 3)

The Books
Of
Saint

Iii

The next morning…

Morning sunlight streamed into Christian’s bedchamber, cascading into his blurred vision. He blinked his eyes open slowly, attempting to adjust his sight to the warm, golden sunrays. The high ceiling came into view, and the scent of lavender and morning mist enraptured his senses. The scent of home.
Home.
The word held a warming sensation coursing through him, which he hadn’t felt for a long time.
Shifting onto his right side, Christian turned to his Kristine, who was still peacefully enclosed in slumber. Her hair gently surrounded her face, and her lips were softly pursed. Christian tenderly caressed her cheek, moving some strands of hair away from her features. Careful not to awaken her, he sat up, and pulled the sheets off him, taking a step onto the floor. He didn’t know what the day’s coming events would bring, but Christian eagerly looked forward to any day spent wholly with his family. He donned on a blue cotton robe, and departed to the main corridor, soundlessly closing the door behind him. He decided he would first pass by the kitchen to refresh himself with a goblet of kumquat iced tea, and then bathe. He descended the flight of stairs and strode through the exceptionally elegant foyer into the kitchen. From here, he could smell the aroma of freshly fried loukoumades drifting through the air. He smiled. The old Censurian cook, Eashana, never ceased to rise early and surprise him with foods of finery from her native island, Censura. Eashana was the greatest cook Christian had ever crossed paths with.
He had boughten her in Umbra, a city port on the coast of the island, Viridus, which was the largest island on the Onyx Sea. Usually Christian opposed the slave trade of human beings, but Christian was glad he purchased Eashana when he did. Kristine also appreciated the old woman’s company and help with the boys.
Christian stepped into the kitchen and sure enough, the old lady was pulling a batch of loukoumades out of the frying oil. She noticed Christian while she laid them on the table, and instantly put on her defensive posture. Standing up straight and placing her hands on her hips, she lifted her chin, and looked him straight in the eye. Christian couldn’t help but grin.
“Don’t think for one minute that you can come in here and snatch, young man. I got enough on my hands to do, than keep my eye on you. Now get on with yourself and wait for the breakfast call!” She scolded, but Christian saw the glint in her eyes. He shook his head.
“It’s nice to see you too, milady. It’s been a while.” She cast him a knowing look, trying to keep a smile from betraying her.
“You’re as sly as they come, sir, and I’m not easily fooled. You can say all your mush talk later --- when my kitchen isn’t cooking.”
“I’m not up to anything. I just wanted a drink of kumquat, if that’s all right with you of course.” He held up his hands in feigned innocence. Knowing that he intended to take just one though. The old woman was just about to argue with him further, until the sound of a crash and one of the servant girls crying out for help, stopped her midstride. Eashana let out a grumble of frustration, and casting him a warning glare, she hastily ran out the back door to aid the girl. Christian smiled at his good fortune, quickly grabbed one of the doughnut rolls, and then poured himself a cup of kumquat. He was just about to leave the room before his eye caught onto something in the dormant fireplace, ashes lying in heaps from the night before. His face paled to an unnatural white, as the glass cup slipped from his hand and shattered onto the floor.
Christian knelt and reached into the fireplace with a trembling hand. For a very long moment, he couldn’t breath.
There the ancient blood book lay, unscathed.
How could . . .?
_________
The dark, ever green forest sped past his vision as Christian rode Bucephalus alongside a rushing river. A heavy, dark cloud blocked the sun from view, darkening the atmosphere noticeably as Christian sharply turned his horse, overcrossing the bridge.
Christian swallowed. How could the book not be burned in the fire? Such things . . . were just not possible. Unless…
No, he just couldn’t go there. The notion that there could be a supernatural reality beyond the physical one he knew, was going far past the line of his reasoning. Maybe even his sanity. But Christian knew he couldn’t ignore the inevitable. If the book was cursed by some kind of black magic, he needed to know what to do with it.
Christian turned his horse up the rocky slopes, maneuvering through the winding pathway up the rugged hill. Heat rose up his chest, as he could feel his face break out in an uncomfortable sweat. Going to a sorceress for some kind of plausible explanation was his only resort, he told himself time after time. Still, Christian couldn’t help but feel he was making a fool of himself by consulting with a witch, something he had always ridiculed others for doing. Perhaps his pride was keeping him on edge.
He had left immediately when he found the book in his kitchen’s fireplace, telling a servant to let Kristine know that he would be back soon. Christian hoped that it was true. He had been riding straight for about an hour, down into the valley away from Interitus. He came into one of the dark forests where it was well known that a highly respected sorceress lived in seclusion. Her knowledge and powers were undeniable, he was told.
Christian fiercely pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a halt. He slid off his mount, grimly staring at the grand, purple and scarlet tabernacle that stood before him.
Knowing that Bucephalus wouldn’t bolt anywhere, Christian hadn’t bothered to bind him to a tree as he walked up to a stony faced guard. The guard stood erect outside the tent’s entrance, eyeing Christian carefully.
“What’s your business here?” he demanded.
“I am Lieutenant Christian of Interitus, son of Duke Julius and I would like to have a word with your sorceress,” Christian replied.
The guard’s bearded stone face contorted into a sarcastic smirk, “Christian of Interitus, aye? My lady has been waiting for you, Lieutenant.” With that, he motioned Christian to enter the witch’s chamber, his watching eyes peering into Christian’s with an unnerving stare. Christian gave the guard a cold glare as he entered the tent. Waiting for me? How could she know if I’d come in the first place?
“Christian of Interrrritus . . .” a whispered voice droned.
Christian’s head snapped towards the direction of the female voice. The antechamber remained to insinuate vacant, nonetheless.
“Come here,” her hushed call beckoned. Christian then noticed the silhouette of the woman standing behind a lacy curtain, a strange purple hue flickering behind her. He pushed back the curtain and stepped inside.
“Sit down, son of Julius,” the black-skinned woman purred in dulcet tones, gesturing to a chair.
It took awhile for Christian to find his tongue, as he stared into her beguiling ebony gaze behind her dreadlocks, “How did you learn that a Christian of Interitus would arrive at your doorstep?” he questioned, still standing. She released an emphatic laugh, then spoke through a slow, raspy breath. “Don’t you believe in the powers beyond, eh?”
“No.”
“Ah, but you do… you wouldn’t be here otherwise if it weren’t so,” she smiled through her gleaming teeth. She again gestured to the chair, “Why don’t you sit down?”
Christian reluctantly sat.
“Now, tell me, what service may I do for you?”
Christian raised his brow, “You don’t know already?” he scathed.
She eyed him bleakly, her probing large gaze focused directly into his. “My knowledge has its limits. The prowess to foresee is confined within the absence of the flesh and blood, whom the knowledge is given,” she spat, reproachfully.
Christian shifted in his chair, inhaling deeply.
“So . . . what is it that troubles your soul?” she probed.
Christian briefly looked away from her hawkish gaze, “There is this book,” he muttered, feeling foolish for being superstitious, “It had once belonged to certain Zealot leaders. Priests most likely.”
“Mmm. The Zealots’ sorceries have long had sway upon the people for millennia.” She sat in a chair across from him.
Christian ignored the comment, “Last night, I had read a portion of it and deemed it to be foolish children’s tales. So,” his body involuntarily shuddered, “I burned it . . . well at least I thought I did. In the morning, the book was still there. Unscathed.” He looked at the witch, but she was inscrutable. “Just what, sorceress, just what kind of sorcery does this book contain to withstand even the flames?”
“Have you brought this book with you?” she questioned. Christian pulled the book out of his pouch, and handed it to her. She held it thoughtfully, her hand caressing the cover. Opening it onto the first page, her eyes narrowed darkly, as she stared at the written title.
“The Blood Writings!” she hissed. Christian sensed an uncharacteristic contempt in her outburst, maybe even lined with threads of fear. It made him wonder all the more.
A shadow crossed over her eyes. “In the origins of life,” she murmured, “There were two great powers of the Deep Magic that fought for rule over the universes. Legend has it that Luciferus himself is one of the powers incarnate. Once banished from opulent ice palaces of Taurus—a legendary planet beyond the Pleiades--- he fought against the evil prince who threatened our world with fire. Thereby becoming Mephistophelia’s king.” The woman paused, her voice lowered, dangerously low. “For millennia—the evil prince was defeated and the Deep Magic of Luciferus all but disappeared, wielded only by himself and a chosen few. But the Blood Writings,” her sentence drifted into a malicious hiss, “remained in the bowels of our world to curse humanity with the ravages of treachery.”
Christian was surprised when the woman suddenly stood up and abruptly faced the window. She appeared to be consumed in deep thoughts, her manner bearing a cold graveness. “The world will not be completely out of the reach of danger that the Evil One holds over us until…” her voice broke off into a hoarse whisper, barely audible. “Until the final battle is won, and the Keys are taken back from the hands of Luciferus’ adversity. Until the betrayers who use the powers and lies of the Blood Writings are brought forth to justice, and when the Blood Book itself is locked away into eternal oblivion.” Her last sentence drifted in the air, leaving an unsatisfying silence before she continued.
“Christian,” she leaned closer to him, too close for Christian’s liking. He could feel her hot breath hitting against his face as she spoke, still whispering hoarsely, “The Blood Book must be hidden away from those who have joined themselves in alliance with the Evil One. Their diabolical scheme is hindered only with its absence. Take it to the High Priest at the Oracle of the Mountain, where it will be safely hidden until the final battle.”
_________
That was not the answer he was he was hoping for.
Christian eased his horse down a rocky slope, winding his way through the thick forest of trees. The tree branches swayed vigorously overhead as a rushing wind ruptured the entire wood around him, encircling Christian with a dance of emerald leaves upon the wind. Ruffling his shoulder length hair about his face, as he walked his horse through the suddenly windy forest.
Truthfully, he didn’t know what to think of this explanation that the sorceress had given him or her instructions on what to do with the matter. He had heard the story a dozen times as a child. The Emperor, Luciferus, being a god incarnate, and his historic battle against the legendary, antagonistic deity, mostly known as the, “Evil One.” He didn’t know if he actually believed the story. Most didn’t. He preferred to keep his beliefs to what he could see and touch, and what his reason could explain. Nothing more. But the book still nagged on his mind, causing his frustrated consciousness to boil over the edge. He was even more unsure what to do now than ever. Taking it to the Oracle was out of the question, certainly. Why, it was on the farthest side of the Empire! It would take him months to get there. Maybe even years. Maybe.
Cross that out.
Perhaps he should just bury the book six feet under, or tie it to a brick and throw it into the sea. That should clearly rid him of the blighted thing.
But would it rid him of the sorcery that’s bound upon it?
Curse the bloody book!
He certainly didn’t want to put his family in jeopardy, no matter how absurd this ridiculous situation seemed. He wasn’t a man to take that kind of risk.
A twig snapped somewhere in the forest. Then another.
Christian pulled on the reigns and froze, listening intently. A gust of wind blew, followed by what sounded like the beating of wings. On instinct, Christian’s hand felt for the hilt of his rapier, and withdrew it from its sheath. Metal scraping metal.
Bucephalus snorted and whinnied nervously, shifting on his hooves. Christian steadied the horse firmly, casting more of a bewared glance to his surroundings. He didn’t see anyone, but he felt someone. There was someone stalking him. He was sure of it.
A rustle of some brush and a disappearing figure caught the attention of his peripheral vision, and he swirled to his right.
“Who’s out there?” Christian bellowed, as a dark shadow silently moved through the trees.
A crack of thunder boomed overhead in the clouded skies.
Another twig snapped. Closer.
Christian frowned, feeling the itchy fingers of a lurking danger snake up his spine. He calmed his nerves.
“Show yourself!”
“I’m here.”
Christian spun, rapier raised, to see a . . .
A large, white leopard slowly, almost majestically walking down an enormous rock. Imperial wings folded behind its agile form. Momentarily, Christian felt his eyes dilate as he stared at the magnificent creature. Its violet gaze riveted into Christian with almost glaring eyes. Aflame. It stood resolute, its regal form just four paces away.
Christian gaped. Surely, the creature hadn’t talked! He felt his hand tighten its grip around his sword.
“I don’t think you’ll need that,” the white leopard said.
The sword.
Christian ignored the comment.
“Who are you?” Christian demanded instead, straightening to his full height. Keeping his sight trained to the winged creature.
The leopard stepped to his left, starting to pace slowly.
“Yes, well I guess you would want to know that. My name is Casper. I was sent by Elohim to you, I am his messenger.”
“Who is this Elohim? I never heard of him,” Christian growled, his eyes narrowing. “What does he want of me?”
“To give you a message.”
Christian laughed dryly.
“Alright then, hasten with your message and be gone.”
“The witch—what did she tell you?”
Christian’s insides grew cold. He didn’t want to talk about this subject anymore in one day than what was already said. Especially with an animal that had no business existing, nonetheless speaking!
“What does that have to do with anything?” Christian snapped.
“The book.” Casper replied matter-of-factly. “I have answered your questions, now answer mine, human,” he hissed, “I don’t have all day.”
Christian seethed. The Blood Writings. How did Jasper or whatever the cat called himself— know he even had the book? But come to think of it, it wasn’t just the leopard who knew something about this. The witch, for example, came to mind. Christian wondered if perhaps there were spies on his tail, watching.
He wished the general had never given it to him.
He considered trying to kill the animal. But it had the upper hand at the moment, and would probably kill him instead. Besides, it hadn’t posed a threat to him, thus far. He relented. For now.
“She told me that it corresponds to treason and rebellion, seemingly because of superstitious scandals.”
“Ah, and what did you take of that?”
“I’m not a religious man. So honestly, I don’t know.”
Casper eyed him straightly. Grim. “Surely you can determine truth from lies, can you not?” Christian ground his molars together, furrowing his brows. How dare this imbecile undermine him!
“And what does this line of questioning have anything to do with a message? As far as I am concerned, this is just some scheme to hinder my promotion by the Emperor! Making me out for a mad man . . . Blood Writings, talking leopards with wings, sorcery—bah! C’mon, man!” He’s not a man, Christian. He exhaled, frustrated.
“Well, to your enlightenment, I will inform you that my questions have everything to do with what Elohim has to say to you!” Casper growled, eyes aflame. The beast abruptly turned around, then sighed, “Forgive me for losing my temper, but you must understand the dire consequences of this situation.”
“Dire consequences? What on earth are you talking about?”
“I am talking about matters of life and death, so shut up and listen!” Casper stopped pacing and drew closer to Christian. His voice lowered. Dangerously low. “How do you know that anything that the witch told you has truth? Or that everything you live your life for will ultimately only destroy you in the end? Your livelihood. Your country. Your ruler? Are you for certain that your emperor is even your rightful king? Do you know what side you’re on?”
Christian sat utterly confused. “You’re speaking treason!”
“Perhaps.”
Christian seized his reigns, “I will not take part in this treachery any longer!” he bellowed.
“But what if only treachery will save the lives of your family?” Casper shouted.
Christian’s heart froze.
“What possible danger could they be in?” he inquired incredulously.
“I will have you know that your emperor is fully aware. Nor does he care, to say the least—“
“What is he aware of?” Christian said, raising his voice.
Casper sighed, “I cannot say. But just know this; Luciferus isn’t who you think he is.”
“What—
“If you want to know the truth, I suggest you find out for yourself.” Casper unfolded his wings, and started to turn around, but then hesitated, “I’ll give you one last piece of advice though. Read the Blood Writings; read it as if you have never read any other book before. It holds the keys to everything.” And with that, Casper leapt up into the thundering, dark skies. Leaving Christian more unsettled than ever. He watched dejectedly as the leopard flew over the horizon, becoming close to nothingness as the headache in his mind grew to an overwhelming capacity. He turned his horse back around, towards Interitus. Each step seemed to darken the empty tomb that took the place of his heart.
Flexing his jaw, Christian pushed his horse onwards, just as a downpour of icy rain hit his forlorn senses from the clouded heavens.
__________


The Ancient Blood Writings


In the beginning of time was the Word of Blood.
The Word dwelled with the Lord Elohim,
And the Word was Elohim.
All life was breathed through Him,
And without Him, nothing was made that was made.
In Elohim, there is Life.
The Life that is the Light of men.
And the Light shines in the Darkness…
And the Darkness does not comprehend it.