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    The Fire of St. Denian's
    The Fire of St. Denian's
    The Fire of St. Denian's
    Ebook89 pages1 hour

    The Fire of St. Denian's

    By Edwin C. Mason

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    About this ebook

    When the Night of Nights takes over holy ground, no one has the means to combat it. For over a century no one can drive off the evil, and nothing can survive within.

    Brother Alden is a young man and new to the Brothers of the Third Star. Hereward is an older man, a veteran soldier turned monk, and hopelessly out of his depth facing a darkness he can't cut and stab. Mildgyth is a member of the Poor Sisters of Mercy, untried and hopelessly in love, and Blessed with an unusual talent for healing. Within the abandoned Church of St. Denian's everything they know will be challenged, and they will learn bitter lessons, or die.

    They face challenges they can neither expect nor understand, including betrayal and violence from the most unexpected source of all.

    In the Age of Four Empires, distant kings lead distant armies, and bandits roam the land. Always, remnants of a darker age lurk beneath the surface.

    This is a 22,000-word short novel.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEdwin C. Mason
    Release dateAug 28, 2013
    ISBN9781927857212
    The Fire of St. Denian's
    Author

    Edwin C. Mason

    Edwin C. Mason was born in 1964 in a house half full of books and dedicated his early years to similarly filling the other half. Now he dreams of filling other people's houses the same way. He started writing in 1977 after reading "Pirates of Venus" by Edgar Rice Burroughs, and in the intervening years he has made every mistake it's possible for a writer to make. He lives in Toronto with his dreams and delusions.

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      Book preview

      The Fire of St. Denian's - Edwin C. Mason

      The Fire of St. Denian’s

      Edwin C. Mason

      © 2013 Edwin C. Mason

      All rights reserved.

      GND Publishing

      Toronto, ON Canada

      Smashwords Edition

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Contents

      Chapter I

      Chapter II

      Chapter III

      Chapter IV

      Chapter V

      Chapter VI

      Chapter VII

      Chapter VIII

      Chapter IX

      Also Available by this Author

      About the Author

      The Fire of St. Denian’s

      Edwin C. Mason

      I

      The fire at St. Denian’s burned, so they gathered atop the hill above the ruined church and prayed for peace in their hearts and for the rest of any souls that should any pass into eternity that night.

      Then they started down.

      Coarse leather shoes tamped down the snow, the hems of their robes soaked through, hoods turned in the wind to show tonsured heads.

      They sang. Seven voices rose in practised harmony as they chanted the Canticle of Trust and the Song of Three Tears. By the time they reached the little cemetery with its scattered graves the fires danced all around the lower windows. This they had expected, but still they stopped there to sing the Canticle of the Persecuted.

      Hereward whispered to Alden, What do we think meaningless prayer will accomplish?

      Little else remains to us, Alden said, striving for patience as always. Come, brother, let’s take our fate with good cheer as Vals instructed; his guidance is good.

      Good for a laugh now and then, I'll grant you.

      Alden nodded. Gentle humour about the smallest things in life ran through Vals' writings, although that may not have been what the brother intended.

      The cloth of Hereward's robe stretched tight over wide shoulders and was rubbed threadbare where it cut across the chin he rarely shaved. It is not anymore a church. Why should we risk ourselves for this ... old building? It’s nothing more. We should tear it down and have done with it. What matters who inhabits it now?

      From behind, Mildgyth shushed them like she was trying to be their mother again. Still, as much as she snapped and bullied, Alden was grateful for her presence, and not only for her Healing Touch. She made for good company whenever the sisters from St. Cloury joined the brothers from Heamaegan for a mutual undertaking.

      What do you mean, Brother Hereward, questioning the import of who inhabits a church?

      It is a church no longer, Sister, and it has not been for a century or more.

      Alden stepped a little to the side before he opened his mouth. Pleasant company or not, she had a temper when she thought sacred things were being mocked. Brother Hereward is right, Sister Mildgyth. It is long abandoned to the world.

      She had to reach up to slap him on the shoulder. Humph! Abandoned to the world, perhaps, but not abandoned to the Night. It was ours once, and if it is no longer, we still bear responsibility for it. Once sacred, it may be secular again, but we will not let it become profane. She walked with cautious steps, trying to plant her feet only in holes someone else had already made. Alden shortened his stride to make it easier for her.

      Stone walls rose from the snowy ground, complete enough to a height of about twenty feet, where the narrow arches of the lower windows ended. Above that, the walls formed skeletal fingers that rose like the imploring hand of a dying man begging mercy from an unfeeling universe. Shaking his head, Alden reminded himself that the universe was formed in love and its creator was called the Merciful in all lands. Again he looked at the abandoned church. Stained glass survived in some of the lower windows, casting multicoloured patterns dancing in the snow. The light inside looked like fire, but Abbot Bedwyr said that it was no such thing, and Alden was bound to accept his wisdom even if it did come with odd customs and ideas from Aelyth.

      Alden, sworn to obey, did just that, and with as good a grace as he could. He is a wise man. Hereward looked at him from the corner of his eye. If he were not, Alden went on, he would not hold position over us. He is an abbot.

      The wide figure at the head of the column stopped abruptly and turned about, hood flopping back to show a horseshoe of hair that didn’t look like a tonsure above an animated face with dark, cunning eyes. Those eyes looked at Hereward as he said, Yes, Brother Alden, truth it is that I am the abbot, although how wise I am remains to be seen.

      Hereward’s eyes were fixed on the snow between his feet. I did not mean to imply otherwise, Father Abbot.

      Nor I, Father Abbot, Alden chipped in, hoping to deflect hostility from his friend.

      Between them Mildgyth now stood, head up, eyes forthright as if she had never made a mistake in her life. Alden had heard stories, but couldn't say if they were true. Some didn’t seem likely.

      The cellarer, looked hard at the three of them, bushy, golden eyebrows meeting over his nose.

      Bedwyr smiled, his face beneficent, almost cherubic. It is no matter, Brother Ingvarr; no discipline is needed. They all are good children, no more flawed than we are, and they will serve well in our ... endeavour.

      Yes, Abbot. I will bear that in mind.

      Burly Tobin and long-nosed Ewart looked solemnly at Alden. They both were young, and it hadn’t been long since they had come under Ingvarr’s furious glare. Not that they would admit to it freely. There was sympathy there, but Ewart’s was tinged with disappointment, and Tobin’s with anger. Neither looked at Mildgyth.

      Mildgyth asked, What now, Father Abbot?

      Yes, Abbot, Ingvarr said, if you intend no discipline, we should be about our business here. Just standing here makes the back of my neck crawl.

      Bedwyr hesitated for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath. Then he said, It is time, and turned. What had been a church was only forty yards away. Alden swallowed and it felt like he was trying

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