Chapter 18
For a few days after, Aiden quietly walked the halls of the monastery. He was under the impression that he had reached the end of his spiritual journey. The question that remained was what would be next? If he was truly to fight evil, where would he begin? He spent hours at a time considering this question. What he needed was the Abbot's counsel. So, after a few days of thought, Aiden went to the Abbot's cell wanting to know what he was to do with his gift. His ability. But as he approached the door, he heard his name whispered from its other side. He thought it strange enough to remain with an ear near the edge of the doorway. During his years of training, Aiden had developed his senses to an almost unearthly acuity and standing near the door, heard his name whispered a second time. But stranger than this, he heard the Abbot speak in a language he had never heard. Its intonation was deep and harsh, not sounding at all like Latin. The door fit loosely in its frame, giving Aiden enough light by which to see into the Abbot's cell. Sitting at a large table was the Abbot, his open hand next to a candle flame. The other, palm down, on an open book. As Aiden continued to watch, the Abbot drew his hand from the book and toward a small wooden box. From it, he retrieved a lock of hair and speaking Aiden's name again, held it over the flame. As the hair began to ignite, the flame began to turn red. At the same time, standing in the hall, Aiden became dizzy. He quickly reached the conclusion that these two events were tied together, one being the cause of the other.
Stumbling back to his cell, Aiden didn't stop to consider the possibilities, what might be as opposed to appearances. In Aiden's mind, the Abbot's activity could only be attributable to one thing. He grabbed his sword and made his way back to the Abbot's cell. The dizziness he felt was progressing rapidly and as he left his cell, Aiden pulled his sword from its scabbard. Holding it in his right hand, he tossed the leather scabbard to the floor and approaching the Abbot's cell, through the door open and charged in. The Abbot quickly looked up at him from the candle flame.
"How dare you!" he shouted. "You will leave my quarters immediately!"
Aiden stormed around the table and brought the tip of his blade up under the Abbot's chin.
"Are you out of your mind!?" the Abbot said.
Aiden picked up the book and glanced at his open pages, recognizing the language and symbols used to create it. His suspicions had been confirmed. The Abbot was practicing witchcraft. The only thing Aiden wanted to know now was why.
The belief that the Abbot had gone mad did occur to him, but Aiden knew the practice of witchcraft required a dark alliance and sometimes an enemy at which to direct it.
“What is this!?" he demanded.
The Abbot was enraged.
"What I do is not for you to know!" he bellowed.
Aiden pushed the tip of his sword against the Abbot's throat. Not hard enough to wound him, but enough to loosen his tongue.
"You invite the devil into this holy place!?" he yelled. "I should cut your throat and throw you to the wolves!"
The Abbot began laughing.
"Do you really think you were sent here by God?" he began. "You are here because we brought you here. You are not here to be of service to God. You are here to serve us."
He continued laughing at what Aiden suddenly realized was an illusion. A complex ruse, years in the making.
Still consumed by rage, he grabbed the Abbot by the throat and spinning him around pushed his back into the wall. “Why would I serve you?" he asked. With Aiden's sword still in his throat, the Abbot desperately searched for the words that might sway him.
"You still don't understand," he said. "You were never meant to serve God. Let me finish and we will raise an army against those pathetic creatures, who kill in the name of their God."
Aiden passed the tip of his sword further against the Abbot's throat until a thin trickle of blood appeared.
"People are misguided!" Aiden replied. "They need to be shown the right path!" "There is no path!" the Abbot interrupted. "There is only them and us."
The Abbot began laughing again.
"People are ruled because they need to be ruled. They would be lost otherwise and with what you can do, you can be the one to rule them. Kings will kneel before you. We can take this world and kill their God. Just let me finish. Your legacy has only begun."
Aiden suddenly realized the Abbot's intention to use black magic as a means to control him and therefore, his gift. He would remove everything human from him, replacing it with everything unholy, turning him against his faith.
Aiden wanted to know more about how the Abbot planned to accomplish his goal, without allowing him to actually achieve it. He let himself relax as he lowered his sword by a few inches.
“Yes, I understand," he said. "What do you need?"
The Abbot pointed to the open book on the table.
"I need to finish the incantation, that which evokes the power to kill with a single thought. Then, you will truly be one of us."
Now, Aiden understood. The Abbot would turn what God had given him into a weapon of terror and death. Aiden closed the book and held it up in front of the Abbot.
"So, you need this," he said.
The Abbot's eyes opened wide with a begging expression.
"Yes, let me finish. When the incantation is complete, you will lead us. You are the only one with the ability to change everything. God will die under the vengeful fist of Uriel. The world will fall to its knees before us."
The Abbot stretched out his hand toward the book. Aiden suddenly remembered the story from his youth of the war in heaven, when Uriel, Archangel, and Guardian of God's light, rose up against the Almighty with a third of all the angels. When the battle was over, God cast Uriel and his army into the pit of hell, remaking him into something truly profane. Lucifer. Aiden's face became twisted with anger as he continued to hold the book just out of reach from the Abbot.
"Why didn't I see this before!?" he yelled.
He chastised himself for his own ignorance. And, once again, pressing the tip of his sword against the Abbot's throat, held the book high over his head. He had finally realized the truth. The monastery was not what he thought it was. It was not the safe harbor for those committed to doing God's work, but a bastion of evil, conspiring against all things good and holy. Aiden felt deeply betrayed, his soul made toxic by the true intentions of the Abbot, successfully hidden from him for years.
"Aiden," the Abbot began. "Give me the book. We will remake the world, not in His image, but ours."
Aiden's rage peaked as the hand that held the book began to glow, warping the space around. He leaned in closer to the Abbot's face, still holding the book out of arms reach.
"I think the world has enough problems without...you," he replied.
Seeing what was about to unfold, the Abbot became incensed and demanded that Aiden stop and return the book.
"You will never leave this place alive," he threatened.
The air around Aiden's hand again to heat as the book's cover started to flake off.
"I would rather die doing His work than live in the shadow of this vile place," Aiden replied.
No sooner did he complete his words than the book the Abbot held so dearly burst into flames, leaving its ashes spilling out from Aiden's hand and onto the floor.
The Abbot's eyes widened as his face became twisted with rage.
"Are you mad!?" he screamed. "You could have the world at your feet! Everything you have ever wanted..." Aiden brought his hand up and tightly wrapped it around the Abbot's throat. The Abbot smiled slightly as he strained to breathe.
"You won't kill me," he began. "After all these years. After everything I've done for you. No, I don't think so. You are the best swordsman I have ever trained, but you do not have the courage to take my life."
Under the pressure of Aiden's grip, the Abbots' voice trickled to a strained whisper. And after a few moments of thought, Aiden, again, relaxed his grip on the Abbot's throat and lowered his sword. "Yes, you're right," he began. "You know me so well father."
He suddenly grabbed the Abbot by the neck of his robe and drove his blade up under his ribs, piercing his heart.
"But, I follow God's will now! Not...yours!"
The Abbot felt the cold steel of Aiden's sword as it sliced through blood vessels and organs, creating a river of blood that ran out of his body and down onto the floor.
The Abbot's face quickly became still with the expression of shock and pain. But during that one moment, when steel scraped against bone, the memories of Aiden's childhood flooded through his mind. He remembered crossing the moors with his parents, spending a night in an abandoned hut as sheets of rain fell from the sky. More painfully, Aiden remembered the faces of his mother and father as they received the sack of food from the Abbot. He smiled with gratitude just before turning back to the moors as the Abbot clutched his hand. But as he stared into the Abbots dying eyes, Aiden saw the slowly moving images of his parents' death, put to the sword by order of the Abbot himself. He heard their screams as his mind brought forth the gush of blood while their heads tumbled to the ground. He relived to all of it as his hand gripped the sword, it's edge still deep within the Abbot's chest.
The continued force of Aiden's sword held the Abbot's body against the cold stone wall, in a standing position, he heard him give out a lifeless, final breath as his face relaxed into a ghastly, gaping stare. Aiden's rage had clawed itself to the surface as his eyes welled up with a lifetime of repressed pain. He let the Abbot's body fall to the floor as his sword slid out, as though removing it from deep within a pool of watery mud. His rage echoed through the halls of the monastery as a painful scream exploded from the darkest corner of his soul. And dropping to his knees, Aiden felt a wave of numbness wash over him while tears ran down his face. From the very beginning, he had been betrayed by those who were not what they appear to be, creatures damned by God, disguised as holy men. The trauma and confusion of their betrayal would have been overwhelming, had it not been for Aiden's unshakable faith. Now, God alone would be, not only his constant guide but his only bridge to sanity and strength.
From the waist down, Aiden was covered with the Abbots blood. Saturating his robe, he had already become heavy and sticky. It wouldn't be long before it will release the odor of decay. He knew his days the monastery were over and traveling while dressed in a blood-soaked robe would raise a great deal of suspicion. But at the moment, this was not his greatest concern. By now, the events of the Abbot's death had attracted the attention of every monk in the monastery and Aiden was shaken back to his senses by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps in the clattering of steel. With his sword in hand, he got up from his knees and ran to the door. He cracked it open and saw their shadows dancing across the walls as they neared. Closing the door, Aiden quickly locked himself in the Abbot's cell. He paced back and forth, trying to think of a way out. As in every other cell, there were no windows. The only way out was through the door and into a small army of highly trained swordsman, committed to bringing darkness onto the world.
Aiden struggled for a solution as the monks began beating against the door. The lock was a simple sliding bolt and the door was not meant to withstand an assault of such force. Once the monks breached it, Aiden would die shortly thereafter. Without the Abbot's completion of the spell, he was of no use and the monks would kill Aiden without giving it so much as a thought. Standing in the middle of the room, he prepared himself for the eventual onslaught of mindless anger in steel. But as the door's wooden boat began to crack, Aiden felt his hands warm. He sheathed his sword and raising his hands, noticed the space around them beginning to warp. The sensation quickly spread over the rest of his body as he became enveloped in a glowing sphere of faint blue light. It all happened within a fraction of time as Aiden suddenly perceived events passing with the slowness of a drifting snowflake. He could hear his slowing heartbeat pounding in his ears as the door's wooden bolt fractured. Acting on instinct, he threw the palms of his hands out toward the door as the monks poured into the room. But as they raised their swords, the orb that surrounded him exploded in a wave, striking the air with a loud thud.
The room became filled with the clatter of steel as the monk's swords fell to the floor. The monks, however, burst into flames, leaving black and gray ashes in piles, exactly where each had stood. Aiden stood speechless as the faint blue wave dissipated through the walls. The resulting silence was almost painful and in spite of the solitude of monastic life, Aiden now found himself truly alone. He had killed the Abbot out of vengeance for the betrayal of his trust. The monks, however, having served such dark intent, had been destroyed by God. Aiden felt no remorse, but he could no longer stay in the monastery, feeling soiled by its very presence.
Regaining his wits, he fled from the room and ran through the hallways he'd first walked as a child. He made his way to the monastery's storeroom and changed into a clean robe. Grabbing two cloth sacks, he followed the hallway to the pantry and filled them with bread and fruit to near overflowing. But, there was one more thing he needed. A horse. He wanted to get as far from the monastery as possible, as quickly as possible and the Abbot had recently given him the impression that he would soon be released from the monastery. But in all the years he'd spent with the Urielin monks, he had never seen so much as a stable, let alone a horse. There was, however, one exception. His parents were put to the sword by a monk on horseback and unless it was some hooved, unearthly phantom, it made sense that the monastery would keep, at least, one horse, in the event of some urgent matter. Yet, Aiden was unable to find any trace that the monastery had ever housed such a beast. Aiden would have to walk.