Wendigo Wars (15 page)

“I’m sorry. I just have a great deal of respect for them. We could learn a lot from their ways. They use their words sparingly but with good judgment. The monastery is a calm place. All energy goes into practicing their fighting skills. They are masters with swords and daggers and never has one of their own been taken or killed by a wendigo. You will soon see when we get inside.”

“Let’s just set up a fire while we wait. Everyone must be hungry, it’s hours since we last ate,” said Paul, diffusing the tension in the air slightly.

The group settled and set about making a fire and dragging food out of the travel packs. The tension in the air eased a bit more. Mathilde sighed in relief but she couldn’t deny any longer that her relationship with Dash was putting unnecessary strain on the group; a strain which a Protector Superior had no right to impose on others. It was just another reason to follow her head rather than her heart. The group finished eating and cleared away slowly. As the sun dropped lower in the sky they settled into chatting, playing cards or sleeping. The calm of waiting in the late afternoon sun had relaxed the travelers. In the open space by the monastery walls they enjoyed the amber sun, the silver skies of the morning now long gone.

A creaking brought them all to their feet as the heavy wooden drawbridge began to descend. Everyone hurried to gather their belongings back into their packs. Mathilde stood at the front of the group and straightened her clothes.

Once the drawbridge was down Mathilde could see large wooden, ornately carved doors on top of which sat a coned roof, much like the ones they had seen on the church. The doors slowly opened and five men in tan coloured leather tunics and pants began to cross the bridge, leading handsome black horses. The men had scabbards holding long, slightly curved swords hanging from their belts. Their shoes were thin leather boots.

As they reached the end of the bridge each man smiled serenely and nodded a greeting at Mathilde and her companions then walked past before mounting their horses and setting off into the forest. Looking back over the bridge Mathilde saw an older man, in the same clothes as the others. He smiled and nodded at Mathilde before holding his arm out and gesturing a welcome into the monastery. Mathilde smiled back and set off over the bridge. The rest of the travelers followed. As soon as they were inside the walls the bridge was raised and the doors closed.

“How will those men get back in?” Mathilde whispered to Dash.

“They will return in an hour. The bridge will be lowered and the doors opened in one hour’s time. It’s a daily routine.”

“Oh,” whispered Mathilde, looking at Dash properly instead of avoiding his eye, unsure of whether she wanted to smile at him or not.

They walked on, following the silent man as he walked across the courtyard and into the church. He waved his arm for them to go inside. Once they were all inside the door closed with a heavy thunk. Mathilde looked around and realised with a small sense of panic that the man was no longer with them.

“Welcome,” a deep voice rang out in the silence of the church.

Mathilde looked around trying to spot the source of the voice among the pews, mosaics and statues. Her eyes settled on a man sitting in the front pew. He stood and turned to them, smiling. Mathilde’s first instincts told her that he was a genuine person and his smile honest and open but she was beginning to doubt her own judgment since meeting Dash.

“Hello. Thank you so much for welcoming us into your settlement.”Mathilde slowly walked towards the man. He smiled and nodded. It seemed to Mathilde that there was a lot of smiling and nodding in the Polovragi settlement. Perhaps that’s what came naturally when you had an economy of words.

The man was a lot older than the one who had led them to the church. He had grey hair and a long grey beard. He was slender and tall and moved slowly but with a straight back and grace that made him seem younger than he probably was. The wrinkles and laughter lines hinted that he may be in his seventieth year or thereabouts. “I am Father Tobias Petrescu,” he said.

“Thank you for your hospitality Father,” said Mathilde, bowing her head a little.

Though she was uncertain in her beliefs she had always maintained a high level of respect both for those older than herself and for those in a profession or trade. Her years as Protector Superior had also established within her a natural inclination to be a gracious ambassador for her Protectorate.

“Please, call me Tobias. Now young man, I did not think that I would see you again. In these uncertain and separate times one is honoured to meet a Royal once. To meet one twice seems like more good fortune than God should favour his humble servants with. What brings you back to Polovragi? I am sure this place holds bittersweet memories for you. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Dash came to stand beside Mathilde and Father Tobias gestured for everyone to sit. Dash and Mathilde took seats beside Tobias with Paul and Seb on the next pew. The rest of the Protectorate stood or sat further back in the church but remained silent, leaning in to listen to the conversation between their representatives at the front of the church.

“I thought you may have heard of my family’s capture; word travels fast. Though how it has travelled from Bucharest to Polovragi faster than we have puzzles me.” Dash looked enquiringly at Tobias.

“We do not exist merely on the physical plain your Highness. Your friend here will tell you that. There are those among my Brotherhood that would disagree and say that we should remain of this earth until the time at which God calls us home but I am old and they allow me my eccentricities. There is much that can be learnt on the spirit plain.”

“Yes. I have learnt that lately,” said Dash, shooting a fond but sad look at Mathilde.

“So with those unfortunate losses why is it that you come back here? I I know that your mother and father have been called to Heaven. They were chosen by God to rule and have now been chosen to return to his side. What of your sister? Is she with you?”

“No.” Dash’s voice softened and Mathilde’s heart ached for him as she longed to reach out and take his hand but resisted, still unsure of his motivations and feelings.

“No she remains with the wendigo and with their leader General Zhu. I am hoping that she is still alive. I feel that she is and if you have not come across her in the spirit realm then...” Dash’s voice cheered slightly and Mathilde heard shades of hope in his tone.

“No I have not yet seen her in the spirit realm, but that does not necessarily mean that she isn’t dead I am afraid. It could be that our paths just haven’t crossed,” Father Tobias smiled apologetically. “You said the wendigo have a leader?”

For the first time Tobias looked surprised and it unsettled Mathilde. Here she had found someone who seemed calm and reassuring. His sudden surprise set her back to her original state of nerves and foreboding. Dash updated Tobias of everything he had told the Protectorate at Bucharest.

“So you bring an army?” Tobias lifted an eyebrow questioningly. Mathilde looked behind her at the Protectorate. They were few and, though they were slowly becoming a tightly formed group, they would be no match for the wendigo.

“They are all we could bring. We needed to leave the rest of the Protectorate behind. We couldn’t leave Bucharest undefended,” said Mathilde.

“I don’t criticise my dear. Merely I want to point out your weaknesses. I will give you twenty of my Brothers to help in your quest.”

Mathilde’s eyes widened. “That is too kind of you. We could not take your men. I could not, in all good conscience lead your men to battle. With all respect I fear that your men would not fare well against the violence of the wendigo.”

Tobias chuckled. Dash looked embarrassed and Mathilde felt like she was being left out of a secret. Feeling foolish she glared at Dash, not knowing why she was blaming him for the way she felt. Despite his stories of the Brotherhood’s fighting skills, what she had seen of them seemed lacking in any aggression and she doubted that such a lack of violence in their personalities could produce effective fighters when pitched against the pure hunger and tearing, gnashing, rage of the wendigo.

“Let me show you our practice rooms,” said Tobias standing up and starting to walk towards the church doors. “Then we will discuss whether you still feel you cannot accept our help.”

Chapter Eighteen

Tobias led the group back across the courtyard and into the main building, which ran the perimeter of the settlement in a large square. On the inside edge a long corridor ran all the way around with doors at regular intervals on the left hand side. Some were open and some were closed. There was no central cooking and living area here as there was in most settlements. Instead there were neatly arranged rooms; kitchens, a dining hall, laundry rooms, dormitories and exercise rooms. Most of the rooms had people in them but they were going about their business in a slow, quiet way. It was far from the noisy thriving life of Suceava and Bucharest that Mathilde was used to.

Halfway down the second side of the square Tobias brought them to a stop outside the open doors of a large room. The Protectors all took a place and peered through the door to see what was going on. Inside twenty men were moving slowly from one pose to another. The effect was calming and hypnotic and Mathilde found herself swaying slightly on the spot as they moved from side to side. At the shout of a command from a man standing at the front the men split into pairs and began doing the movements facing each other until their movements blended into an intricate dance.

“What are they doing?” asked Mathilde.

“Fighting,” replied Tobias.

A series of chuckles went around the watching protectors. Dash looked embarrassed for them.

“They don’t seem very fast,” said Seb.

“I hate to admit it[ when you are being so hospitable, but I agree that they don’t seem to have the speed or aggression needed to fight the wendigo,” said Paul.

“Just keep watching,” said Dash. Tobias remained still and quiet as he watched and smiled modestly.

A moment later the group leader called again and the men went to the side of the room. They returned with swords, axes and flails; sticks with chains and spiked balls hanging from them.

They started slowly in their pairs sparring and dancing around. Then the movements became faster until they were all a blur; every movement and strike being blocked or countered.

“Well they are skilled,” Mathilde admitted, “but wendigo don’t fight so fairly.”

“Get settled into your dormitory then meet me back in the courtyard before our evening meal. We will discuss how useful they are then,” said Tobias as he began to move the group down the corridor again.

“How will we know when to meet you?” asked Seb.

“Oh, you will know,” replied Tobias as he led the group into a large square room with enough beds for all of the travelers.

Chapter Nineteen

Mathilde lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Around her the Protectorate slept or chatted. The fire, which had been lit in the hearth before they arrived in the room, crackled and popped. It sent a comforting warmth onto the right side of her face and lulled her into a half sleep. She could still hear the hushed conversations around her but couldn’t move or speak. Sometimes she thought that maybe she had spoken but it could have been all in her mind. Pictures tripped through her mind like flicking through a picture book; Seb fighting with his axe then turning to her with a look of disappointment; Dash staring into her eyes begging, perhaps for trust or maybe for her help, she couldn’t tell; wendigo stalking in the shadows; the crackling fire in the Cree camps, memories from over a decade ago. Then cheering and hollering that got louder and louder.

“Mathilde, Mathilde.” A hand shook her arm, her whole body moved. “Mathilde,” came the excited voice again. Mathilde opened her eyes and realised the voice was real. Seb was inches away from her face, an excited look in his eyes. Mathilde sat up, her mouth dry and face hot. Looking around the room she realised that it was empty now but for the excited Seb and a more reserved looking Dash who stood by the door. The cheers still echoed around the room.

“What’s going on?”

“Come on. You have to see this,” said Seb, given her an extra jog of the arm before bounding out of the room.

Mathilde stood up and walked to the door. She squeezed past Dash, giving him a slight smile. As she did his face came so close to hers that they could have kissed. His sweet wafted gently on her cheek sending a shiver of longing through her but she kept moving. Dash walked behind her as she made her way towards the noise.

It didn’t take long to get to the end of the corridor and reach two carved wooden doors which were wide open and led into the courtyard. It took a while to work out what was going on. Night had fallen and it was dark now. Looking up she could see all of the stars in the black crystal sky and fireflies of embers drifted up from the many fires lit around the courtyard. People were standing in groups and chatting; an air of anticipation and danger clung to the crowd like invisible cobwebs and the air sizzled with nervous excitement.

“What’s going on?” asked Mathilde. She noticed that the Protectors had spread out across the courtyard and were talking animatedly with members of the Brotherhood.

“You have arrived on a fortunate day if you wish to see the true fighting skills of the Brotherhood,” said a young man who stood nearby. One of the men who had been leaving the settlement with his horse as the Protectorate had arrived less than twelve hours earlier.

“A competition?” asked Mathilde. Dash stood silently by her side, close enough that his arm brushed hers whenever one of them moved.

“No, it’s a display. It happens once a year. Lots are drawn for a person to take part in the display. Tonight there will be two displays but only one person has been chosen to fight. Tobias will announce after the first display, who the second warrior will be.”