Dark Age Read Free Page A

mind. I was a clean throw from killing the false-messiah himself. But what if I missed? The priest’s eyes narrowed in on me sternly, holding the chalice underneath my left hand. Or what if I did not miss? An even more outrageous scenario, it seemed. With clenched teeth, I put the blade into my left palm and made a fist. Quickly I pulled it out and watched the crimson drops fall into the old chalice, whose walls had been darkened by blood older than even my father’s.
    Before I could comprehend what had happened, the priest grabbed my bloody hand and lifted it to the heavens along with the chalice. The crowd roared ecstatically. I was their new hope, like every seventeen year old. I could see my parent’s faces in the crowd, my father stoically embracing my sobbing mother. Katrina stood quietly beside them, smiling, but by no means celebrating.
    The applause died down as the Inquisitor moved his lips again, “We embrace you in our brotherhood, son. Come nightfall I shall break bread with you in my humble home, as tradition requests. Farewell my children and rejoice in the splendor of the day.” He bowed, an inch at most, and turned, disappearing behind the red curtains.
    I fell back into the throne and wrapped a piece of cloth around my palm. The trumpets sounded in the background, drowning out the noise of the moving crowd. The real celebration was about to begin.
    While the guards escorted the priests out of the square, I was still frozen in my chair. It was one of those moments, when one realizes that times change. Seventeen years had been nearly identical, and I thought they would always be. Now everything was going to change. I would have to leave all this behind for ten years, and possibly never return. Like a well-oiled machine, the Guard took in recruits in the scores and spit out a few emotionally dead survivors ten years later. A new perspective of future filtered my eyes, and I was both frightened and excited.
    A warm hand seized mine. Katrina pulled me out of the throne and out of my thoughts with a tug. With delicate fingers she fixed my vest. Her auburn hair was in an artful ponytail, contrasting the rather simple, yet beautiful white dress. “You look different,” she said observing me carefully, “but impressive”. My parents stood a few yards behind her, and were of no help to calm me. My mother was affected by it more than I was, while my father tried to comfort her.
    A few friends and strangers came up to congratulate me. Some even presented me with gifts that came out of their profession: A pair of sandals, a leather pouch, and a loaf of warm bread. While I thanked them, Katrina was pulled away from me into a circle of friends.
    “Tonight?” I called after her. She looked back and smiled.
    Around us, much was happening. The tailor took out his guitar and struck a few chords that rang across the square. Shortly after, one of his sons joined in on the flute. In harmony, the song filled the air, completed by the soft strings of his daughter’s harp. With the help of a few kegs of beer, the festivity was well on its way. Men and women were sitting in their groups eating and drinking, discussing the latest gossip. Children chased another across the square, often running into the few brave dancers that moved to the tailor’s melodies.
    After a while I sought quiet. I preferred watching the others since I had been the center of attention for the entire day. My eyes drifted to the clock tower above the Mount. In little more than an hour, I would be escorted to the Inquisitor’s mansion.
    “It’s a lot to take in,” said a voice from behind me. I turned around and saw Peter, the barber’s boy. “Mind if I join?”
    “Please,” I pointed at the block of wood next to mine. “When will you be summoned? Your celebration was just a few moons ago, am I right?”
    “In 273 days,” he responded. There was no dread in his voice, but he wasn’t joking with me either. “I’m running out of time,”