For what felt like weeks, if not months, Abel took it upon himself to set and keep quotas of training time and weapon stockpiles for all of the volunteer force. He traced the sigil Cash had taught him on to every weapon in their armory, even the practice weapons. He kept himself busy to keep from worrying about what came next. He managed to see his brother at least once a week for a meal and to catch up with each other. They would both offer updates on what was happening in their respective positions. At least at first. Once a week became every two weeks. Then once a month. After a few months, he rarely spoke to his brother even when they had their weekly meeting with the officers and civilian leaders of their group. In Abel’s mind, Kaine was too busy with planning and reports from their scouts to take notice. He did his best not to hold it against Kaine. They were both busy. But it caused him to feel a loss he couldn’t express.
Abel was taking inventory after a training session. His body ached in a good way as he put away the wooden swords. He ran a finger down the chipped edge, noting each divot and notch. Every one marked a successful lesson. This made him smile a bit even if he wasn’t sure to what end his lessons came.
“Master Abel, Master Kaine calls for you,” a child's voice from behind him said. Someone's child. He wasn’t sure whose.
Abel nodded, quickly putting away the rest of the training supplies before setting off down the hall. As he walked out, he tussled the blonde hair of the child. “Thanks, kid.”
Abel made his way through the stone lined tunnels of the underground fortress, the heels of his riding boots clacking on the flagstone with each step, echoing into the depths. He reached the upper levels of El’Arafa and strode into the cloister just off of the central chamber, knocking lightly on the heavy oaken door as he opened it gently. “You sent for me, Kaine?”
“Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted. I hope you understand…?” Kaine said in a way that was almost a question, but also a statement.
Abel nodded. “Without Cash here, we both have a lot more to deal with.”
Kaine nodded back and exhaled sharply from his nose. “Scouts are telling me they have been seeing folks disappear from Holy Empire border towns. I was hoping you would take a look?”
Abel grimaced. “Of course. Any reason you want me on this one?”
“Rumors. I think they are preparing for something bigger,” Kaine said. “If it’s nothing, sending one person doesn’t look as aggressive. Plus I know you can handle yourself if something does come up.”
Abel nodded, raising his eyebrows. Kaine had a point. “Alright. I’ll check it out. But you owe me lunch when I get back.” He grinned wryly at his brother.
Kaine nodded meekly. “I’ll do my best.”
“Alright, then.” Abel turned and left. Kaine felt so distant, distracted, even noncommittal. But Abel had a job to do, so he prepared a horse and supplies for the trip. Since it was just an investigation, he packed light. Bed roll, some trail rations, and only a reload worth of rounds for his sidearm. As Kaine had said, he was less likely to draw attention by himself. Plus, there was no one to slow him down. He was on the road before evening, heading towards what ended up being the closest border town, Clear Springs. He’d never been there, but in this part of the world, every small town kind of looked the same. He expected a saloon, a general goods store, and a church with an attached graveyard. Since he had set off late in the day, he set up camp a few hours into the trip. He’d finish once it was light again. Rushing would just make him look more suspicious, he thought.
Abel’s mind wandered as he stared into the fire from his bed roll, drifting back to his youth. Even though he was the elder brother, Kaine was always better at things. Abel was taller until they hit 10, then Kaine became bigger AND smarter. Abel was always trying to play catch up even when their parents pushed Kaine to be better. Be more. Abel thought to himself that their parents had always been grooming Kaine to lead. That he was the other child and they didn’t expect much of him. This just made him try harder, even if he always lost. He drifted off to sleep, a feeling of deep melancholy gripping him.
“Get your ass in gear, boy,” a voice trailed on the wind, startling Abel awake. He sat up like a shot, grabbing his pistol from beside him and scanned the environment. Grasslands. A few trees. Not a soul to be seen. The sun had come up at least an hour prior judging by where it sat in the sky. He took a deep breath and holstered his weapon. Joylessly, he packed his gear and set off to Clear Springs.
“Saloon, general store, church. Oh look, the attached graveyard,” Abel muttered to himself as he arrived. Normally, he’d go to the saloon first, but in spite of his better instincts, something made him head to the church. As soon as his horse was hitched, he heard the door of the church open, but no one came out. Abel made his way towards the door, footsteps crunching on the dry earth and gravel. Just inside the door frame, a small, furry shape stood. They sat just far enough beyond the door to be mostly hidden in shadow. They were wearing priestly robes. Abel wasn’t immediately certain if it was a human or...something else.
“Welcome, friend. What can I do for you?” a kindly, masculine voice said. It had the gravel of age, but was still kind in tone.
Abel smiled at the man. “I’m looking into reports that folks have been going missing ‘round these parts. Thought I’d start here in Clear Springs.” He stood at the bottom of a small flight of stairs that lead to the door of the church.
The priest grimaced slightly. “A sad truth,” he said, leaning his head out of the door to see who else may be around. ”Best not to talk out here. Please, come in,” he motioned inside and held the door open, eyes still searching the grounds outside.
Abel shouldered his rifle and moved towards the stairs. As he climbed, he nodded, removing his hat as he entered the building. Road dust shook from his jacket with each step. “What have you heard...father is it?”
The man was shorter than Abel, but very hunched over. If he rose to his full height, he would be massive. Abel’s first impression was definitely correct. The man was covered in fur. Abel had never seen a beast-kin before, but had a hunch this must be what they look like.
“Close enough. I serve many faiths in our small community. Except for…” he stopped and looked towards the door. It was closed. He half whispered anyway. “The Holy Order. I will not abide them. They are dangerous. Militant. Cult-like.” He sighed. “I’m afraid that most of the missing have been seduced by their promises of belonging...and power.”
Abel scowled. “Can’t say I’m a fan myself. But that barely seems like a mysterious disappearance.”
The priest nodded slowly. “Not all of them are going willingly. Some are dragging brothers, sisters…friends along with them. ‘For their own good’ as I’ve heard it said more than once when they thought nobody was listening.”
Abel grimaced and gritted his teeth. “Sorry, father. Not sure how much I can do about that. But I'll certainly look into it,” he said.
“I appreciate that you at least came to check on us. Even if there isn’t much to be done.” The priest stopped and exhaled sharply, putting a large hand on Abel’s shoulder. The hand was covered in fur with unusually long fingers. “You came all this way, why don’t you stay here at the church? There’s a spare room with a bed and I can whip up some lunch for us both,” he said, smiling warmly.
Abel’s mood brightened. “I appreciate the hospitality, father. Thank you.” He was glad to have found a friendly face.
The priest nodded. “Come, then,” and lead Abel to the spare room. “I’ll get a stew going.”
Abel sat his rifle down and hung his coat on the hook next to the door, hanging his hat over it and collapsed onto the bed just as the priest closed the door. Before Abel knew, he was roused from sleep by a gentle rapping on the door before it popped open with a creak of the hinges.
“Stew, biscuits, and some local brew.” The door opened enough to see a familiar fuzzy face with a long nose and jaw poking through. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” the priest said.
Abel waved him off. “Long trip. Thanks.” He sat up, taking the offered bowl.
The priest set Abel’s saddle bag in the corner and pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down to eat. “I rather wish you were able to catch them in the act as it were. But that’s none too likely. Awful thing to hope for given the circumstances.” He grimaced.
Abel nodded. “Still. I’ll take a stroll around town and get a feel for things. You never know what seeing an Undertaker might do to some people.”
“Be careful. They may not be actively recruiting like they used to, but the Holy Order certainly still has eyes about,” the priest said, pointing two fingers over Abel’s shoulder.
Abel finished his lunch swiftly. “Thank you. Father.” He stood, handing his bowl to the priest and reaching for his coat and hat.
The priest stood, taking the bowl. “Be careful. You seem to be a good man. World doesn’t seem to have many of them left.”
Abel nodded and made his way outside. The priest had taken care of his horse already. Normally he wouldn’t trust a man he didn’t know to touch his gear, but the priest made him feel more at ease than he’d felt in a long while. He checked his belt. Sword on one side, pistol on the other. He adjusted his coat to make sure neither was visible. Casually, he wandered his way down the dirt road into the small town, making his way to the general store. Climbing the steps, he received casual nods and greetings from the few townsfolk milling about.
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Abel made his way inside. There were no other customers. A partly bald man sat behind the counter reading a dime novel. On the cover was a man with a six shooter accosting a steam locomotive.
“Howdy,” the man behind the counter said, looking up from his book. “Something I can do for you?”
Abel walked up to the counter. “Getting the lay of the land at the moment. Don’t suppose you’ve seen any...uh...odd characters around?”
The shop-keep smirked and looked Abel up and down. “Not often we see Undertakers out this far. We don’t want no trouble.”
Abel tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Me neither, friend. Me neither.” He tapped the counter twice then walked the aisles before making his way back to the door. All the while, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He could feel eyes on him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a younger man, slim with blond hair, standing in the corner. How had he not noticed him before? Abel suspected that was by design rather than coincidence. He heard whispering behind him as he walked outside.
Abel crossed the street to the boarding house. He climbed up the boardwalk methodically, carefully watching his surroundings. He pushed open the door to find a comfortable but plain saloon taking up a good portion of the ground floor. A couple of simple iron chandeliers hung over two tables. Three folks sat at the far table were animatedly flipping cards. Abel could tell by their clothing and smell that they were probably farmhands. The trio nodded politely.
“What can I do for you?” a commanding but sweet voice said.
Abel turned to the bar to see a woman dressed in a pale yellow dress embroidered with red and green vines stacking glasses on the shelf opposite. She had a presence to her that indicated to Abel immediately that she was not only the bartender, but the proprietor as well.
“Hey there. Got any mineral water?” Abel asked, putting one foot up on the rail below the bar and leaning in.
“I do indeed!” The woman reached below the bar and pulled up a bottle, popping the top against the bar. She handed it to Abel, a broad smile spreading across her face.
“How much I owe you?” Abel asked.
The woman looked at Abel’s clothing and waved off. “On the house for you, friend. Some of us still appreciate our local Undertaker.” She winked.
“Thank you. Appreciate the hospitality.” Abel touched the front of his hat in respect.
She nodded. “You can call me Maya. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” She looked at the three at the table across from the bar. “Don’t worry about those three. They’re good kids.”
Abel grinned slightly. “D’you know anything about the folks who’ve been disappearing?”
Maya pursed her lips and gave a knowing nod, her highly stacked auburn hair swaying slightly. “Sí. Mostly teens. I must admit it has me greatly concerned. I’d keep an eye out for a young man. Blond. Don't know where he came from but I’ve been hearing…unsavory things.”
“I saw him hanging out at the general store,” Abel said.
“Can’t say I’m surprised. Jon is not a trustworthy man. His first concern is how heavy he can make his pockets.”
Abel took a long swig of the water. “Thanks for that, ma’am. I’m staying up at the church if you hear any more, uh…stories. That goes for you all as well,” he turned to the three at the table.
They gave a mostly absent “sure thing” waved, and continued their game.
Abel finished his drink and bowed his head to Maya before heading back out the door. As he walked down the stairs back to the dirt road, he could see that blond guy again. He was staring hard at Abel from the window of the general store. Abel didn’t return the gaze, doing his best to ignore the young man, and made his way back towards the church, exchanging pleasantries with the few townsfolk milling about the little town square.
As he reached the church, he walked through the graveyard solemnly before entering the church proper. He and the priest exchanged stories while the two went about the caretaking of the building. Abel returned to his room and read by lantern light before turning in for the night.
Abel awoke to a lantern coming into the room followed by two wirey figures wearing black hoods. He didn’t move until one of them reared back with a club. Springing from the bed, Abel rolled to the floor and drew his gun in one motion.
“That is more than close enough,” he said, rising to his feet while keeping the weapon trained on the figures.
The one with the club lowered their weapon slowly and looked over to the one holding the lantern. “But we have to…”
”I really don’t care,” Abel cut them off. “On the ground.” He waved his gun towards the floor.
”We can’t…”
”ON THE GROUND.” Abel’s eyes turned jet black.
The pair leapt to the ground. “Please don’t…”
”What? Don’t WHAT? Do what you were going to?” Abel tapped the back of his assailant's head with the end of his pistol lightly. He wanted to scare them, but not injure them. Then, he knelt and pulled the ropes from the pair's waists. Ropes that were likely meant for him. He dug a knee into the back of one while hog-tying the other. Then he did the same to the other assailant. “Let me guess. That blond guy sent you.” Before they could answer, he picked up the lantern and blew it out. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Abel stood again, gun still in hand and crept towards the priest's room, squinting at the darkness. A dull glow emanated from the open door. He stealthily moved to the door and leaned in. There was a lit candle still burning. The rest of the room was in shambles. Blankets hanging from the bed onto the floor. Books scattered. He followed signs of the struggle to the front door, out into the dark night. The moon was a dull grey overhead. Abel scanned the horizon and spotted lanterns in the distance, just beyond the graveyard. He could faintly hear voices on the wind. Silently, he moved through the graveyard, ducking between the markers.
“The only true path is through the Holy One. Your sacrifice will secure your place in his kingdom,” the blond man from the general store was speaking in a stage whisper to a small crowd of black hooded figures. Each one had another person, bound and gagged, at their feet. Some were sitting up, some on their backs. Several were openly weeping. Abel’s rage grew.
“You two,” the blond man looked at a pair of hooded figures. At their feet was the priest, tied up and slowly regaining consciousness. “You are bound for exaltation! You subdued a heretic to His Holiness. His blood will make you heroes.”
The pair shuffled nervously. Abel, just outside of the lamp light, was reminded of cattle before the slaughter. Unable to be still. Knowing something was happening but not really understanding how it would end.
“But, we will start…with you,” the blond man pointed at the first couple to his right.
The hooded figure pulled out a knife. Their victim lay bound at their feet, kneeling in front of them. The victim shook their head, muffled sobs spilling through a gag. The hooded figure knelt and slit the victim's throat. The sobs turned into gurgles. Abel flinched.
The blond man…the zealot…said “Remove your hood, sister.”
Abel saw the back of a young woman's head appear from beneath the hood. The zealot knelt and pushed his fingers into the victim's wound before standing to trace a cross on the killer’s forehead.
“In blood be cleansed,” the zealot said. “Into the Holy Order be reborn.”
She took her place at the zealot’s side. A mix of relief and panic stitched into her rictus grin.
The zealot addressed the next hooded figure down the line. Abel stepped into the light, gun raised.
”That is more than enough of that,” Abel said, pulling back the hammer of his weapon, aiming directly at the zealot.
The zealot smiled. “Looks like the last two failed. But in their failure, possibility! Do it. Shoot me. Break the treaty.”
Abel grimaced and lowered the hammer slowly with his thumb, not allowing the weapon to discharge.
The zealot smiled and said ”Kill that man”.
The hooded figures nearest Abel spun their heads towards him, each drawing a dagger. They stalked towards Abel slowly.
”You don’t want to do this,” Abel said to the hooded figures, holstering his gun and holding his hands out, palms down. One of the hooded figures lunged at him. He dodged and punched at the back of their neck sending them sprawling. Each in turn swiped and sliced at him, but never more than one at a time. Untrained. Just a bunch of farm kids, not soldiers, Abel thought.
The pop of a single shot split the night. Everyone froze. Three youngsters moved into the light from behind Abel, rifles drawn. The farmhands from town, Abel realized as they came into view. The distraction made enough of an opening for him to take down two more of the remaining hoods. The three youngsters followed suit, each wrestling a figure to the ground.
”STOP THIS AT ONCE! GET THEM!” the zealot screamed, finger raised at Abel and the farmhands, screaming so hard his voice cracked. He glanced towards the hooded figures that had been holding the priest down. They were crumpled on the ground. The priest was nowhere to be seen. Maya stood over them, her rifle shouldered and trained on the zealot. Slowly, she turned her head and looked at him from the side of her eye as she lowered the rifle, mostly averting her gaze.
Abel looked up at the zealot just in time to see the priest rise to his full height behind the blond man. The priest stood head and shoulders over the zealot, eyes glowing, sharp teeth bared. The sound of flesh ripping peeled out as tooth and claw sunk into soft flesh, sending blood spraying in all directions. The priest threw the now limp zealot against the hillside, brutalizing the flailing corpse. When Abel could not bring himself to watch the carnage any longer, he joined the farmhands in freeing the prisoners after tying up the hooded figures.
Silence finally set in. Then sobbing. The priest curled back into the hunched form that Abel knew before, holding himself with bloodied hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted this. I’m a priest now. I never wanted…” he cried, slumping into Abel who held him. Silent. No judgment.
Morning came swiftly. Abel couldn’t sleep after the chaos and packed his bags and set out with the rising sun.
”You sure you won’t stay another night, Abel?” The priest asked from behind him.
Abel turned and shook his head. “I think you folks have things well under control. Still, I’m glad I was here to help.”
”Sometimes the right person can be the spark,” Maya said, putting an arm around the priest's drooping shoulders. He smiled meekly at her.
“I’m sorry this ever happened, father.” Abel put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
The priest nodded solemnly. “I thought my days of fighting were over. But I suppose fighting for the souls of my flock…my friends…family…won’t always be easy. Or without conflict.”
Abel and Maya hugged the fuzzy priest.
”At the very least, the Holy Order knows we will not stand by and watch any longer. Thank you father,” Maya said.
”Thank you for helping me keep the treaty intact. Truthfully…I have no idea what would have happened if I shot him. I’m sure it would not have been good,” Abel said.
”If ever you need me, I will be here,” the priest said, looking at his church. He turned towards Maya. “I hope to see you around my hallowed halls more often, Ms. Maya,” the priest smiled.
”You will. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.” She smiled back.
Abel mounted his horse. “Until we meet again. In this world or the next.” He touched the brim of his hat in respect.
Maya and the priest waved. “Until next time,” Maya said.
Abel hoped there would be a next time as he set off towards home. A warrior’s life was seldom a straight line.
