The Conciege
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(THOB) Chapter 60: Beyond Stupid
🕑 Added 2023-08-30 23:18:00 +0000 UTCBy their fourth month Ezril and his brothers had learned what Father Munidu sought to teach them. Even Ezril showed a mastery of the technique, seeming capable of putting the dog to silence without having to look at it. Learning it before his remaining brothers, it seemed to solicit a suspicious look from Father Munidu.
“How effective is it against humans, Father?” Ezril asked as they practiced the Abeet, a skill that had their horses stand in place for as long as was required.
“That there is a disturbing way to think, Antari,” Munidu answered. “But I like it. Humans know what they should fear, but I reckon it’s not a conscious effort. What we teach you has no effect over humans or Titans. But you have nothing to worry about.” With a grin that revealed at least one missing tooth, he added, “They will come to fear you for simply being priests.”
The next day Ezril found himself with Ellenel. Lessons of the bow with her had grown from physically tasking to mentally torturous. She placed targets at over forty paces and Ezril was only given the space of a heartbeat to memorize their location. What would then ensue was the requirement that he release his arrows at the targets without seeing them.
The first time he was placed in the situation, he had considered the impossibility of it. Ellenel had, however, proceeded to sink an arrow into each target without lookiing, whilst walking away from them. It had been intended to show him the feat was attainable, but he knew she did it for the fun of showing off her capabilities.
Today, Ezril trained alone under Ellenel’s tutelage as was now the way, while the rest of his brothers trained with Father Vargason, a bulky priest of pale skin. He had thoroughly black hair, and the source of one of Darvi’s irritable use of the word shag.
“So you met Mother Nervia,” Ellenel said as they practiced.
Ezril chuckled at her tone of exasperation.
“Yes, I did,” he replied, then released an arrow. “She’s not all bad.”
Ellenel looked at him, incredulous. “You know she’s been old all my life. There are even stories about it.”
Ezril laughed this time. It was a full laugh and he liked it. He released another arrow and was satisfied with the almost indiscernible thump that told him he had hit his target. Today the targets were farther than usual which was not surprising; Ellenel was increasing the distance with ever session.
They practiced in a hall, as they did most of their lessons now. It was near eleven times its length than its width, compassing near a hundred paces, and as high as… well, that measure Ezril had since learned was nigh impossible to guess at.
They had long since discarded with the use of blindfolds, and now Ellenel held him in conversations as a form of distraction as he tried to hit his targets while looking at her.
The priests taught Ezril and his brothers differently now. The way they treated them had changed in a not so subtle way. They spared the use of the cane but devised other means by which to punish them. Ellenel had chosen quite an amusing technique for punishing Ezril. However, her regard for him had also changed significantly. Where she had spoken to him as a child once upon a time, she now spoke more freely. She gave answers and asked questions, often being witty right before he released an arrow. It served to keep him disconcerted… very disconcerted.
“Yes, I’ve heard one of these tales,” Ezril said as he released another arrow between heartbeats. “I believe in it she feeds on the suffering of the sisters to keep herself alive, and that is why she’s so cruel.”
Ellenel barked a satisfied laugh. “The sister in her service told you that, no doubt.”
Ezril nodded. Today Ellenel kept her hair packed at the back, and sat on a wooden chair. It gave her a sort of grace he found he hadn’t noticed before. Today, paying less attention to her was harder than it had always proved to be.
She’s really taking her part of distraction seriously, he thought.
“Well, I served under her during my spiritual year,” Ellenel continued. “Then, she was the parish mother of one of the outstations, and I assure you there could be no other possible explanation for her cruelty and age.”
Ezril released another arrow. Thirty-nine,he counted. “How old is she?”
“I don’t have the vaguest idea.” Ellenel cocked her head in thought. “She might be the oldest living generation of nuns.”
A silence stretched out. In it Ezril stood watching Ellenel curiously. Though she was seated, looking down at her was an odd sensation. He had truly grown from the young boy that had followed her to the Elken forest. He noted a certain youth to Sister Ellenel as he watched her in the recent months. She smiled easily when he practiced. She spoke easily, too. She seemed more… feminine.
“I’ve never seen you in a habit,” he blurted, breaking the silence. He was certain he also missed the fortieth shot.
“I am not a nun, Vi Antari.” Ellenel smiled. “I am a priestess. We are allowed freedom from the habit for as long as we please. Ours is a battle suit, as you may come to learn should you be ordained a priest.”
Ezril lowered his bow, his arrows exhausted.
“I saw you competing with Father Ulrich once,” he said. “At a point he had the lead, but you covered it in one shot.”
Ellenel watched him, smiling. “I doubt you are simply stating an observation.”
“No,” he admitted. “You let him think he had a chance, did you not?”
Ellenel smirked. “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody likes losing. Even if they lose, they’ll come back, as long as they think they almost won. They’ll always think they had a chance; always think they were so close. Always fail to realize the lie.”
Recently that was how Ezril’s games with Salem had been going. He was always finding himself close to victory, only to lose it.
He’s playing me, he realized.
“I heard what happened during your service,” Ellenel said, pulling him from his observation.
Ezril’s lips drew into a thin line.
“Everyone has,” he said.
“No.” Sister Ellenel shook her head. “Not that part of it. I heard what happened after the arrest.”
Ezril studied her, quiet.
“You kept to your room, not talking to anybody for a week. What happened?”
Ezril shrugged and turned away to study his targets. He’d certainly missed a few. “I always kept to my room.”
“Yes. But you also talked quite often with the Sister you served with whenever she went to your room.”
Mother Nervia? Ezril thought, wondering where Ellenel had gotten the information. Ulni?... No. He frowned, the realization coming to him late, though he had no proof of it. Father Kazaril.
“Yes,” he replied Ellenel. “But I simply wanted to be alone.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He turned to observe her again. There had been something in her voice. In her eyes he saw compassion… No… Pity, he discovered with distaste.
She may seem changed, but it was simply a different part of her she showed him now. She was still the same woman who had once thought him scared. They all thought him frightened by it; frightened by what had happened, what he’d had a hand in making happen. They were wrong. Fear did not hold him silent. It was something else, something he was yet to understand.
He was accustomed to being misunderstood, but from Ellenel he found it offensive.
“I would rather not, Priestess,” he replied blandly.
Ellenel winced at his tone.
“Alright then.” She rose from her seat, her face stern. “You had eight sets of forty arrows. You missed a hundred and fifteen.”
Ezril sighed as she snatched the bow from his hand. Apparently, she was still hurt by his tone. Stalking to the place the quivers were kept roughly thirty paces away from him, she retrieved a few quivers with arrows that had dulled points and no piercing power.
“I will try not to be too difficult,” she continued, but her tone didn’t match her words. She nocked an arrow and drew the bow string back. Her last words before she released the bowstring were precise and venomous.
“You will make a fine priest.”
It was not a compliment.
She let the first arrow fly and Ezril caught it before it struck his head. He tossed it to the floor almost immediately and grabbed the second arrow before it struck his chest. This was the punishment she had derived for him. She would release arrows at him in quick succession until the number he missed were exhausted. He could catch them, but he was not permitted to move. Today, however, the arrows flew faster than usual. They also struck harder. He caught the next, almost buckling from his spot as he twisted to avoid the one that followed immediately after.
The ninth one struck him in the stomach. He hunched over in pain, and the next caught him in the knee. It brought him down to the floor on one knee. There would be no space to stop the remaining one hundred and eight.
He knew she would make certain of it.
Later in the evening, after their meal in the dining hall which proved smaller than the one they had grown accustomed to, and an atmosphere that demanded a level of silence and decorum perhaps due to the flock of white cassocks that filled the hall, Ezril found himself in the kennel with Olufemi and Takan.
The kennel on the west side of the seminary was kept separate from the stables, and its animals, although of the same breed, proved more ferocious.
Ezril remembered how Father Munidu had opposed the idea of having Shade become a part of the kennel before finally succumbing to the Monsignor’s decision. Unlike Njord, he had no love for the wolf.
Ezril squatted in front of Shade’s cage as it licked his hand—stretched inside it—of meat remnants.
“It’s getting very big, brother,” Takan observed from his place behind Ezril while Olufemi studied the other animals. “Very soon you won’t have a need for Apparit. You’ll be riding a wolf around the realm.”
“The wolf priest, they’ll call you,” he added, his hands displaying a glorified nonexistent placard in the air.
“You know, brother, if you spend more time with the bow as you do with your little idiosyncrasies, Father Vargason would, perhaps, value you more,” Ezril said, looking at him.
“And if you spent more time learning, you wouldn’t be such an ignoramus,” Takan retorted.
Olufemi turned to look at him from whatever animal he had been observing.
Ezril smirked. “New word?”
“Yes.” Takan puffed his chest out. “As a matter of fact, it is.”
Ezril nodded. “Salem?” he asked.
“One of the sisters I served with, actually,” Takan corrected. “Very nice girl, and smart, too. Sad thing she ended up in the convent.”
“Why is that?”
“She got tits like melons,” Takan answered, his hands making a squeezing motion in front of his chest. “Habit couldn’t do anything to hide them. I reckon I could swear the parishioners spent most of their time paying attention to her tits instead of the words of Truth.” He placed a hand on his chest in honesty. “I will be the first to admit that she was a welcome distraction.”
Ezril looked at Olufemi who was still staring, incredulous. “What do you have to say about that, brother?” he asked in Vrail.
Olufemi collected himself. He seemed to be deep in thought now. When he was satisfied with whatever filled his head, he spoke.
“What’s an ignoramus?”
Ezril smothered his laugh with his hand before pulling away from it in alarm.
“Scorned's Malice!” he cursed. His hand came away, slobbered in wolf saliva and he cleaned his mouth with the sleeve of his cassock.
“Serves you right,” Olufemi told him, then returned to his observation of the animals. In the moment, he had his eyes on a blood hound.
“But I wasn’t the only one laughing,” Ezril protested.
Takan’ laugh had been loud enough to wake one of the sleeping hawks in its cage.
“I wonder…” The contemplative sentence trailed off on Takan’ lips.
Ezril, ignoring his brothers, turned back to Shade with a scowl. The wolf simply returned his gaze, unperturbed by his expression. Its blue eyes watching, it blinked twice before finding its cage more interesting than a staring contest.
Its interest in the cage was short lived, however. Turning back to Ezril, it stared at him, cocking its head one way, then the other, as if in contemplation. There was a strangeness to the air. Ezril found it disturbing. Shade’s expression changed. Its face squeezed and its teeth bared in a silent snarl.
“Stop it, brother,” Olufemi warned in the Alduin tongue.
Wondering what was wrong, Ezril turned to find a focus on Takan face. Takan ignored Olufemi’s words and whatever its reason was. Ezril looked back and found Shade’s anger palpable.
His skin prickled and his scar ached. Then it happened a moment later. Shade turned its gaze on Takan abruptly, releasing a low growl. The kennel fell silent, turned into an act of a graveyard. Ezril turned to Takan, fearing the worst, fearing without understanding, and found him pale with terror. In his life, Ezril had only seen such level of fear on four men.
“Shade!” he barked in alarm.
The wolf paid him no heed. Its growl grew steadily.
“The things fear can do.” The words rose in Ezril’s head with a warning. “I’ve even seen men faint from it… Did I only say faint? I’ve also watched men die from it.”
“Shade!” Ezril barked louder. “Stop it!”
The wolf snapped its head to him, eyes observant, teeth hidden. Its snarl was gone. Its expression was complacent. And as quickly as its anger had risen, the tension was gone. A moment later, Takan fell back, landing on his butt.
Ezril turned on Takan in anger. “That was a foolish thing to do, brother.”
Takan’ face had regained none of its color. He trembled visibly, staring at Ezril, his eyes imploring.
Ezril sniffed the air. Satisfied that his brother had at least not soiled himself, he hid his anger behind a tight, reassuring smile.
Olufemi rushed over to them. His attention wavered but he asked, “Will he be alright?”
Ezril held his smile, disliking it. “He was enacting his will on it, wasn’t he?” he asked. "Doing what Munidu taught us."
Olufemi nodded.
Ezril motioned to the kennel. “And he did all this?”
Olufemi shook his head. “No, brother.” He gestured to the silent animals. “This was Shade. They are afraid of him. It’s why Father Munidu did not want him here.”
Takan never wanted to spend time with Shade. Ezril had wondered what had been different today. He had wondered, but he never would have thought... He looked at his terrified brother. He’d known Takan had a recklessness that banked on stupid.
But this had been beyond stupid.
