The Warlock Heretical (2 page)

rocked, and his face darkened, but he struggled against anger and won. The robber growled and raised his hand

again, but as he swung, the priest's arm shot out, blocking the blow as he kicked the robber's feet out from under

him. The bandit fell heavily as his men shouted, "Hold!" "Nay, now!" "Leave off!" and leaped forward, swords

slashing and staves whirling. But the monks swung up their shields, and the swords clunked into layers of toughened hide. One bandit aimed a terrific double-handed quarterstaff blow at a monk's head, but the holy man

swung up his shield, and the staff cracked into its covering. The bandit used the bounce to swing it higher.

Another bandit reached out and yanked at a shield; the monk behind it stumbled, and the bandit's staff swung in a

short, vicious arc. The blow rang off the monk's helmet, and he staggered, dazed.

"They do but ward off blows!" Geoffrey cried. "These monks have staves; wherefore do they not strike back?"

"And there are half again as many bandits as monks!" Cordelia added, despairing. The two swordsmen had wrestled their weapons free and were circling their target monks.

"Geoffrey," Fess said with sudden foreboding, "do not dare to—" The boy shot out of the thicket, yowling before the horse could finish the sentence.

"Geoffrey!" Fess moaned in despair. "Nay, brother!" Magnus shouted. " 'Tis no quarrel of— Oh, devil take it!

He's in the broil!"

Geoffrey had caught up the dazed monk's staff and was swinging at a bandit, enraged. The man leaped back in

sheer surprise; then his face darkened, and he advanced.

Page 8

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Nay, thou fiend! Stand away from my brother!" Magnus bellowed as he, too, charged out of the wood.

"Magnus!" Fess wailed. "Oh, children! How could you!" But he was thundering out of the brush as he said it.

"What? Shall we alone stay quiet?" Cordelia cried. "Nay!" She leaped on her broomstick and darted off into the

fray. Gregory prudently stayed in the shadows, but he stared at a fist-sized rock, and it stirred, lurched, then shot

up off the ground to brain a bandit.

Geoffrey's robber swung his stick high to smash the boy— but Magnus leaped up, caught the staff on the

backswing, and yanked hard, throwing all his weight into it. The bandit

staggered back and spun about, wide-eyed. He saw Magnus and bared his teeth, lifting his staff . . . and Geoffrey

landed on his shoulders, yanking back on his head. The bandit roared and stepped back, and Magnus hooked a

foot behind his heel. The man crashed down, arms windmilling.

One monk was down with a bandit standing over him, staff poised for a deathblow. Cordelia shot into his face,

screaming, and the bandit leaped back with a yell of fright. Then he saw his attacker was only a little girl, and

raised his staff with blood in his eye.

Fess reached out and caught the man's collar with steel teeth. He yanked and spun, and the man went flying with

a howl.

"Spoilsport!" Cordelia shouted.

Father Boquilva saw her and stared, appalled. A quick glance showed him two more children in the thick of the

fight. He bellowed, "Children! Brothers, ask not—protect them! Strike!" The monks didn't turn to look, but their staves were suddenly whirling blurs. They lashed out with hollow knocks, and bandits cried out; two toppled. The staves whirled again. Four bandits jumped on Magnus
Page 9

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

and

Geoffrey. Fess charged into their midst, screaming, and the men leaped back, yelling with fright, as the steel

hooves lashed out at them. But behind Fess Geoffrey cried, "A rescue!" as the lead bandit yanked him up above

his head to throw. Fess whirled to lash out at the man, and Geoffrey fell, flipping over to land on his feet—but

the four bandits shouted with victory and pounced on Magnus. Fess spun about to counter them, but suddenly

froze, poised in mid movement like a statue; then his forefeet thudded down and his legs spraddled outward

stiffly as his head plummeted to swing between his fetlocks.

"Villain!" Geoffrey cried. "Thou hast caused our horse a seizure!" And he sprang at the nearest bandit's face. The

man

stepped back, startled, then reached up to catch him—and a

hand from a brown sleeve grabbed his shoulder and spun him

about; a quarterstaff cracked into his skull. He fell, and Father Boquilva stepped over his unconscious body, face thunderous, to grasp Geoffrey's shoulder. "Bide

with me, lad! Stay close!" He thrust Geoffrey behind him and

turned to find another enemy. . . . But he was out of luck. His brother monks' staves had done their threshing; the harvest lay on the ground, and the chaff

were running for the forest.

Father Boquilva looked at the half-dozen unconscious robbers, panting. " 'Twas ill done; men of the cloth should

not strike. See to them, brothers; be sure none are dead, and aid those who are injured." The other monks dropped down to their knees to check for heartbeats and bruises. Father Boquilva turned to Geoffrey, Magnus, Gregory, and Cordelia, his face dark. "I doubt not thine efforts

Page 10

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

were well meant, children, but 'twas nonetheless foolhardy."

"But thou wouldst not strike in thine own defense!" Geoffrey cried. "Yet once thou didst, they could not stand

against thee!"

"They should have had no need to," the priest retorted. "Say how thou didst chance to be nearby." Gregory and Magnus exchanged a look. Then the elder said, "By your leave, sir, we must needs see to our

father's horse." "Horse?" Father Boquilva frowned, looking up at Fess. "Even so. What ails the beast?"

"He is elf shot." Magnus turned to Fess. "Epileptic?" Father Boquilva stared. "I wonder thy parent doth not put him out of

his misery!"

"He is a true friend, and a valiant fighter," Geoffrey said angrily. "His seizures are a small matter, weighed against all his good service."

Magnus felt under the pommel of Fess's saddle and pushed the enlarged vertebra that was a disguised circuit

breaker.

"Yet how didst thou come to knowledge of the word?" Gregory asked. A transparent shield seemed to slide down behind Father

Boquilva's eyes. " 'Tis no matter. Is thy mount wounded?"

"Nay; he doth come to himself now." Magnus was watching

carefully as Fess slowly lifted his head. Where . . .

what . . .

Magnus stroked the velvet nose. "Thou hast had a seizure, old friend. Tis naught; thou wilt presently be well

again." He looked up at the monk, and felt a thrill of alarm. "Why dost thou stare so?" Father Boquilva was gazing at Fess intently. "I had thought ... no matter." He turned a stern gaze on the boy.

"Thou, too, wert valiant—but foolish. These bandits would not have slain us, for we are adept at
Page 11

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

defense."

"Too much so," Geoffrey said, frowning. "What manner of monks art thou, to own such skill with a quarterstaff?"

"Geoffrey!" Magnus snapped, then turned to the monk. "I cry thy pardon, Father. He is but young, and doth

forget his manners betimes."

"I have no need for thou to apologize for me," Geoffrey grated.

"Nay; thou must needs speak thine own regrets, an thou hast them." Father Boquilva studied the sturdy lad. "As

thou shouldst; 'tis not meet for thee to speak so to thine elders—yet I feel some trouble of the soul within thee,

wherefore I shall explain. Ere I came to the sense of my vocation, young sir, I was a lad much like thee, and was

as fond of martial sport as I think thou art. I did delight at quarterstaff play, aye, and at archery and wrestling too,

and forbore them only when I sought out the cloister." He nodded toward the other monks, who were busy

administering restoratives. "The same is true of most of my fellows—yet when we did come away from the

monastery to dwell by ourselves, we did bethink us of bandits who might seek to prey on such easy game as

ourselves. Therefore did we take up practice again, and did teach these skills to such of our fellows as had them

not."

"Fairly said, and I thank thee," Magnus said. "Yet wherefore hast thou come out from the monastery?"

"Ah. That is a matter of some dispute with our Abbot's policies," Father Boquilva explained, "a dispute so strong

that we have felt the need to go off by ourselves."

"And is this, too, why thou dost practice thy skills at arms?" Gregory's eyes were huge. "Dost thou fear thine

Page 12

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Abbot may try to bring thee back into his fold by force?" Father Boquilva turned to him, startled. Slowly, he said,

"Thou hast excellent insight, youngling. Aye, there is some thought of that in our hearts." Gregory's face crumpled; tears welled in his eyes. "It cannot be! 'Tis vile for men of God to think of battle!"

"I cannot but concur with thee," Father Boquilva said softly, "and do heartily wish 'twere not so. Yet come, I will

seek to explain it to thee the whiles I escort thee home." Cordelia stiffened. "Oh, nay, good father! Thou hast no

need to accompany us!"

"Yet I have," the monk said quietly, "for I wish to speak of thy kind assistance to thy father—most personally."

Rod slipped a pair of hose, folded into a flat bundle, into his saddlebag next to the package of biscuit. He heard

the door open, and looked up to see Gwen framed in the doorway with a basket on her hip. "Hi, dear. Wondered

where you were." "Plucking berries, ere the birds do have them all." She came in, leaving the door open, and set

the basket on the table, eyeing the saddlebags. "Thou'rt away, then?" Rod nodded and started folding his spare shirt. "Tuan and Catharine have kindly appointed me emissary to the

Abbot. I should be back in three days. Can you manage without me?" "Oh, thou wilt never learn!" She caught the

shirt from him, shook it out, and folded it into a neat, flat bundle. "Aye, I shall manage without thee—dost thou

think me helpless by myself?"

Rod grinned. "Never, dear. But for all I knew, you might have had something planned for the family."

"Naught, as it doth chance." She tucked the shirt in beside the dried meat. "Yet an I did, is thine errand of so

great an import that it could not wait?"

" 'Fraid so. M'Lord Abbot has declared the Church of Gramarye to be separate from the Church of Rome."

Page 13

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Gwen froze, staring. She swallowed, then said, "Wherefore?"

"He says a man on another world can't possibly understand

our problems here, or the theological reasons for solving those problems the way we do—he's talking about the

Pope, of course."

"Yet the Pope is Christ's deputy!" Gwen protested. "He doth hold the power granted to Peter—that what he doth

bind or loose shall be bound or loosed in Heaven!"

"But, says milord Abbot, Gramarye is not Earth." Rod held up a finger. "Therefore, the power of Peter doesn't

apply here."

"Oh, he doth seize upon excuses! Wherefore doth he truly wish to divorce us from Rome?"

"Well, he's the head of the Gramarye Church, since all our priests are members of his order." Rod frowned. "And

I assume he felt really diminished when Father Al handed him that letter from the Pope that gave him orders—so

he figures that the only way to keep his power is to separate from Rome. After all, that makes him top spiritual

banana again. But why do you care so much, dear?"

Gwen turned away, tucking the saddlebag's flap in.

"Dear?" Rod prodded.

"It doth fill me with foreboding, my lord." Her voice was low. "What doth threaten the unity of the Church, doth

threaten the wholeness of my family."

Rod stared, shocked. And, now that he thought about it, hurt. He opened his mouth to tell, her that, but someone

knocked at the door.

He looked up. Perfect, right on cue! The "someone" wore a brown robe with a little yellow screwdriver
Page 14

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

in the

breast pocket, and a bowl-cut hairdo with a tonsure.

And had Rod's four junior Gallowglasses in front of him. . . .

"Children!" Gwen exclaimed. "What mischief hast thou wreaked now! . . . Good morn, Father."

"Good morn," the priest replied. "I would not say 'tis mischief they've been wreaking, milady—i' troth, they did

seek to aid us."

"Sought to, maybe." Rod fixed Magnus with a gimlet glare, noticing how the boy's chin squared, and how

Gregory was trying to shrink into Cordelia's skirts while she glared back at Rod in defiance. Geoffrey was fairly

strutting into the room, head high and chin out—but Geoffrey would, of course.

"Obviously, they think they've done something we wouldn't allow. Confess, children!"

"Is not that mine office?" The priest held out a hand. "I am Father Boquilva."

"Rod Gallowglass, and my lady, Gwendylon." Rod stepped up to take the priest's hand, and noticed that the man

hadn't stepped across the threshold. "Be welcome in my house, Father." The$ priest smiled and stepped in, looking up and all about as he recited, "Let there be peace in this house, and to

all who dwell herein."

Rod noticed Gwen relax, so he smiled. "Thanks for pulling my kids out of whatever jam they were in, Father."