Chapter Twenty Four
“And this shall be the plague wherewith the Lord will smite all the people who fought against Him; their flesh shall consume away while they stand upon their feet, and their eyes shall lose their color with their minds, and their tongues shall blacken inside their mouths.”
–Father Abraham, “The Holy Word”. 16 Months After.
* * *
This trial was getting more treacherous by the day.
Moonlight tore through twisted branches above, falling onto an approaching group of sinners. Twenty were in their ranks – more than twice the size of the pack that attacked them the day before. Like the rest of their brethren, their skin had rotted through their indulgence in Sin, and their eyes revealed nothing but an empty, white glaze, reducing them to mere thralls for eternal evil. They marched and hissed, teeth clattering against the party in front.
Brother Ezekiel spit to them. No doubt that these attacks were the work of the Devil. The Chosen One’s aura radiated out, her divine energy drawing the sinners wherever they went. Leah Fenix screamed and cried as these demons closed in, and her father gargled inside his restraints. Another necessary condition to keep him from interfering.
Ezekiel pulled out his bo staff and bowed his head.
“The Lord is my shepherd,” he muttered. “I shall not want. He maketh me to live down in green pastures. He leadeth me besides the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.” He narrowed his gaze onto the closest sinner. “Amen.”
The sinner raised its arms to attack, but Ezekiel’s staff gave him the better reach. He cleaved its head in two before it could land. Another moved within range, only to meet the same fate.
He pressed his advantage, moving through the flank of the sinners before they could cluster up together. Another trio fell safely against this tactic, but it was short-lived. Leah’s crying attracted them most, forcing Ezekiel back on a retreat. He slaughtered another pair with a grunt.
Liam spit out his gag. “Bloody hell, Ezekiel! Let us out.”
“Silence!” he ordered, his staff tearing through another sinner.
Ezekiel did not need assistance. He did not need to chase Liam for another day because he wanted to evade God’s judgment. The Lord was on his side, and no one else mattered but Him.
Only a few sinners remained. A crack resonated as his staff struck another skull. He watched as a fissure formed in the wood along the middle. With a grunt, Ezekiel tossed his damaged weapon aside and retreated another step. The sinners lunged in unison.
An Inquisitor’s duty was to combat Sin wherever it formed. For many occasions, this meant bludgeoning a member of their congregation until they repented for their heresy. After so many years and Beholders entering their community under different conditions, plenty chose to fight back rather than face judgment, believing in their hubris that they could understand more about righteousness than the Lord’s soldiers. Ezekiel trained his Brothers to employ many unarmed techniques, regardless of origin. Wrestling, jujitsu, Krav Maga, aikido. Whatever martial skill they had available became necessary to this end. Anything short of perfection put their community at risk.
Compared to that threat of heresy, these sinners were mere gnats to be plucked from his back. Ezekiel weaved in and out of their swings, redirecting their energy to send them tumbling down. As each floundered in place, he stomped his foot through their skulls. Blackened liquids exploded out.
“Oy, Ezekiel!” Liam shouted. “You missed one! Over here. Now!”
He turned around and gasped. A sinner had slipped through and was almost in reach of the Chosen One!
Teeth sunk into the leather armor of his thigh and feet, but Ezekiel ignored his attackers and drew his hand-crossbow, focusing on the demon in front. With a quick prayer for guidance, he launched the bolt. The sinner hissed as its ear was punctured.
Ezekiel exhaled. His enemies still clawed into his legs, and a child-size sinner attempted to climb up his back, but with the most profound danger resolved, he had nothing more to fear. A few more well-placed kicks finished what he had started for those below, and he calmly thrust the one over his shoulder into the ground. Blood flowed free where its head struck a rock.
Only few injuries plagued Ezekiel, with the blood leaking from the waist and below. They would be easy to patch up. Thank you, my Lord. This confrontation would have gone far worse without His wisdom.
But Liam glared when Ezekiel marched back over. “They almost got her this time.”
“Yet they did not,” Ezekiel pointed out.
“Yeah, this time! What about the next? And the next? We’ll run through hundreds more hollows before the week ends, and it only takes one to spell my daughter’s end. Hell, if I didn’t manage to spit the gag out just now, she’d have died. You can’t keep dragging us around like this!”
Ezekiel smirked. “Would you prefer if we stopped marching altogether?”
His cheeks reddened. “At least let me out of these restraints.”
With a sigh, Ezekiel untied the rope that anchored Liam’s body against a nearby tree, though he kept the length that wrapped around his wrists lest he fight back again. Liam rushed over to his daughter and fell, his tied hands still able to stroke her hair. The Chosen One’s crying continued.
“There, there,” he said. “Daddy’s here again. No need to be afraid anymore.” He tried to inch forward, but Ezekiel gave the rope another firm tug, sending him back a foot.
“You will attempt to run again if I let you walk free,” he explained. “I cannot allow you to put your daughter in harm’s way.”
“And as I’ve told you before, the stress you’re putting her through will do that anyway. She needs rest!”
“She looks fine to me.”
Liam shook his head. “The fever’s getting worse. This chill is doing her no favors.”
Ezekiel closed in. He gently pressed the back of his palm against the Chosen One’s forehead. “I sense no more heat than normal.” He put his other palm against her parent’s head for comparison. No change.
Liam batted his hand away and scoffed. “The difference is more subtle than your kind is capable of sensing. Please, you have to trust me. You’re killing her.”
As if the Lord is so weak. Ezekiel grunted. “Get up.”
With no more words of protest, Liam rose to his feet. Ezekiel grabbed the mobile carrier for the Chosen One and slung it over his back, taking the supplies she needed with the other. Her cries dwindled as he zippered the fabric back into place.
He instinctively went for his bo staff, only to remember that it had splintered during the fight. Another tool that would be difficult to replace out here. His crossbow was down to five bolts, and his cudgel lacked the power that his staff projected. Like losing a limb, his strength was weakened.
But still, they could not falter.
“Move,” Ezekiel ordered, giving the rope a snap.
Liam lurched into a walk, and their march continued.
So much time, yet so little progress. They could not have covered more than ten miles in the past day. How many more would be on the horizon before they returned back home?
Too many. That much was certain. After leaving Pandemonium in flight, Liam had gone to great lengths to avoid Ezekiel and his Brothers, to the point where they had been forced to abandon their truck after it ran out of fuel. Brother Malachi initially protested against further chase, but Ezekiel reminded them of the power of faith. They followed the road from there on foot, using the tiniest of impressions in the dust for guidance. The Lord shined down on them, for enough rainy weather came to pass that filled the highways with mud. This gave them all the direction they needed, and it was not long before they found where Liam had escaped to.
Only for him to strike back. Father Abraham had been explicit. Leah Fenix mattered most, but her father was not to be harmed unless absolutely necessary. This kindness proved his Brothers’ undoing. They had indeed underestimated how difficult of an adversary he could be. Brother Isaac fell before anyone saw Liam coming, struck down by his rifle. Brothers Malachi and Lucius were defeated soon after.
Leaving Ezekiel alone to finish this holy mission.
You’re never alone so long as God loves you, he reminded himself. Ezekiel hobbled onward, ignoring the damage that the sinners delivered to his limbs. When the light of day came and the others succumbed to sleep, he would take time to meditate in the light of the Lord. His grace would help close these wounds.
Clouds shifted above, sealing away the light and leaving a moonless sky. Ezekiel hated when it became like this. Though the Lord still aided his vision even in the darkest of environments, the lack of illumination twisted this once beautiful landscape into something more sinister. Colors and forms diluted without the sun, leaving only a dull, grey wasteland. A far cry from the tapestry that the Lord had woven for them.
Why must the world have come to this? Brother Ezekiel was eternally grateful for the blessings the Lord had given him – of course he was – but he could not help but wonder what else could have been. Had mankind lived with more devotion and penitence, would the Beholding have ever come to pass? Would they have been able to keep their souls intact?
Ezekiel rubbed his scalp, his fingers tracing the tattoo that ran along its length in the shape of a crown of thorns. He had never known the origin of this design. Not since facing judgment. It had predated the Beholding, back when his soul was free from Sin.
The Lord’s lessons truly were fickle. Brother Ezekiel would never know what had compelled him to make such an alteration on his flesh. Had he considered himself one of God’s Chosen Ones? Or had he merely done so as an homage to the suffering inflicted for his benefit? The crown of thorns was indeed a sign of the Almighty, but it also stood as a reminder of the burdens one may take. Of pain, of suffering, of humiliation, of death. All for the benefit of the downtrodden. Could that have been the path that he had originally walked? Had he been a righteous and penitent man before?
Ezekiel once again pried the depths of his memory for answers, only to find nothing in return but the vacuous hole that had always been there.
He exhaled and kept moving. The past no longer mattered. Only the future remained. Only through following God’s will would the seven bowls of judgment be poured and the Beholding brought to an end, ushering forth a gilded age for the Lord’s children.
Then maybe, just maybe, he would be united with his old life yet again.
More time passed as Ezekiel continued in silence, with the Chosen One on his back and Liam tied behind. His captive’s movement slackened occasionally, but a firm yank kept him on the path.
Brother Ezekiel blinked through the grey miasma of this elongated night and drew his last bottle of cream, still locked tight in the dark-tinted bottle to ensure it would last. As much as he knew this needed to be rationed, with the blood leaking from his wounds, it would not do to let his spirit slacken. He popped the lid and had a gulp. Already, he felt more at ease.
His carrier shifted, and the Chosen One began to whimper.
What is it this time? “Be calm, child,” Ezekiel ordered.
Liam took a few steps closer. “She’s hungry.”
“Again?”
“Yes, Ezekiel. As I’ve told you before, we eat more than you do.”
He grunted. For whatever could be said about his own body’s needs, Leah and her father seemed to consume more by a factor of five. The supplies that Liam brought were already dwindling, and Brother Ezekiel had no clue where to find suitable replacements.
The bottle of cream still lay in hand. He supposed that would have to do. Ezekiel unzipped the carrier and started to lean back.
Only for the cream to get knocked from his hands. He stared dumbstruck as the bottle shattered against the ground. Liam towered above, his brown eyes ablaze.
“Are you out of your mind!?” he snapped.
Ezekiel blinked. “What are you talking about? That was for her!”
“Let’s just ignore the fact that you’ve been carrying that bottle of milk around for well over a week at room temperature. Yeah, we’ll pretend that doesn’t matter to a child’s health… You put your mouth on that fucking thing. Do you honestly expect me to allow my daughter to share a bottle with someone who’s been infected with the most deadly contagion that this world has ever seen?”
“The Lord will protect her. She has been Chosen.”
His cheeks reddened. “No, he won’t, you bloody moron! Get that through your thick skull already. Her health isn’t being protected by your imaginary friend, okay?”
This heresy was too much. “Do not insult the Lord’s name like that!”
“Or what? You’ll kill me too? The way I see it, you’ll do that soon enough as is!”
“What do you know of God’s power!?” Ezekiel scowled. “Only through His grace have you been allowed to live, uncorrupted by Sin. This does not make you free from shame. Or has this gift brought you so much hubris that you believe yourself to be above His judgment?”
He stood, unfazed. “I don’t care about him or you. The only thing I care about in this world is the girl on your back and ensuring she remains in good health.”
“Then trust in His guidance!”
“Only if you trust in mine. You want to see Leah brought back to your friends? That won’t happen if you refuse to listen to what I have to say.” Liam grinned. “Or maybe you’re the one who’s too full of hubris. I’m one of God’s chosen too, yeah?”
Ezekiel mashed his teeth together, an eyelid quivering. How he wanted nothing more than to purge this heresy and be done with it. Just as he had done so many times before.
But perhaps Liam did not speak in error. Brother Ezekiel closed his eyes. Whether Liam understood the folly of his words, his love for his daughter remained authentic, as did Ezekiel’s desire to see her live. That much was true for them both.
As much as Brother Ezekiel hated to admit it, there was only so much for him to do now that his fellow Inquisitors had fallen. He did not understand this foreign land or how to navigate its dangers, their supplies were low, and the nature of the Chosen remained obscured to him. Could the small act of gifting her his food have permanently corrupted Leah’s flawless vessel? As difficult as it was to fathom, he could not deny his own ignorance when faced with such divinity reincarnated.
“What do you suggest I do,” Ezekiel asked.
Liam sighed. “If you’re not going to allow me to walk free or carry my daughter, then the least you can do is give her what I tell her.”
“Okay. Then what do you believe she needs?”
He frowned. “I wish I knew what type of medicine would bring down her fever, mate. I really do. But Evelyn’s the doctor, not me. The best I can think of is to give her plenty of hydration and rest. Maybe an elderflower tea if we happen upon some out here.”
“We can’t stop. The Devil will find us.”
“Then don’t. All I’m asking is that you be more gentle with her. She’s a baby girl, not a piece of luggage to hoist over your back.”
Ezekiel stared into the carrier and considered the proposition. The Chosen One’s soft eyes looked into his, and his tongue salivated as he gazed back. Such an immaculate form. The epitome of perfection in human form! She truly was God’s gift to man. Whom was he to deny Leah the peace she craved?
“His will be done,” Ezekiel said. “What else?”
Liam smiled. “She needs water. I’ve just about run out. It can’t come from a still source though. That is a breeding ground for bacteria. Any flowing water will do, so long as we boil it first to ensure there’s no Hollowing. And I mean thoroughly.”
Brother Ezekiel peered throughout the forest. Greys slithered around blacks, and he caught sight of movement between rocks, perhaps half a mile away.
“There’s a creek over,” Ezekiel said, raising his finger. “Would that be an acceptable source?”
He nodded. “I’ll need to check the color and taste it first to make sure there isn’t any toxic or mineral contamination, but if you give me a fire to work with, I’ll have everything I need to keep her safe.”
Ezekiel studied the creek. It was to the northeast. Traveling there would slow down progress, but if that helped keep Leah’s spirit well, then he supposed that there would be no other way. Nothing came above the Lord’s desires, and she was His current incarnation.
Without saying a word, Brother Ezekiel turned and began the sluggish walk over. Liam trotted behind, now content that the journey had gone his way.
The detour ended quicker than he expected. Liam had a fire built, and their water source was purified and cooled within the hour, using a metal bowl to speed up the process. Leah suckled from his canteen once finished, her tiny throat expanding and contracting with each gulp.
“Time to move,” Ezekiel said once satisfied.
“What’s the rush?” Liam asked with a yawn. “By my count, your kind have all the time in the world.”
If only that were still true. “Just move.”
He once again secured his prisoner in place, put the Chosen One back into her carrier, and marched through the forest. A distant light gleamed on the horizon, reminding Ezekiel of how much time had been lost.
His hand graced the empty spot in his cloak where he had kept his bottle of cream. It had been ordained through Holy Communion by Father Abraham himself before they left, infused with the power of the Lord to stave off sinful thoughts for as long as needed. Beholders did not consume flesh like their heretical enemies, so without this elixir for support, all Brother Ezekiel had at his disposal was his copy of the Holy Word, and he was far from versed in deciphering its infinite interpretations, unlike the Friars.
Whether Liam could contemplate the severity of his actions or not, the moment he shattered that bottle, a door opened that could only complicate their journey further. A hole now formed at the base of his mind.
Ezekiel’s soul was again vulnerable to Sin.
