Sanctuary (Dominion) Read Free Page A

then a scream. Aedre's scream. I hurried outside , and w hat I saw lifted my spirit from the depths .
    Caenwyld lay in a heap in the corner of the goat pen, not dead, just winded. The other raider sat in the opposite corner, knocked on his backside, fumbling for his sword. Aedre covered herself with her ripped shift, her face red and swollen from being struck several times. She scooted back, away from the others. And Arkael stood in the center of the pen, his sword ready, facing Caenwyld.
    "Stand up," he said, and Caenwyld looked up at him with a fury I'd never before seen in a man.
    "How dare you," Caenwyld growled, his face red. "How dare you! I will have you burned alive for this!"
    "I know what you are." Arkael took a step closer, and Caenwyld recoiled. His eyes shifted, too, from anger to fear. He grabbed hold of the wooden post next to him and pulled himself back onto his feet.
    "Who do you think you are? Do you know the penalty for striking me?"
    "I am Arkael. I've come to send the darkness in you back where it belongs."
    "Kill him," Caenwyld barked to the raider. "Kill him now!"
    The raider had his sword out, but Arkael turned his head sideways, just enough to see him from the corner of his eye, and the raider hesitated. I don't know what held him back, but he made no move to attack.
    "Why are you waiting? Do it! You saw what he did to me!"
    He lowered his weapon meekly, and Arkael turned back toward Caenwyld, confident that he'd won that battle.
    "You have no recourse," Arkael said.
    "No," Caenwyld replied, breathlessly. He was cornered, alone, and terrified. I had no sympathy.
    "You are touched by the demon. Your soul is tainted, and it cannot be saved. Not by me.”
    “No.” Louder, this time.
    “But through your death, another will be free. It is my path, not to repentance, but to forgiveness."
    “NO!” he screamed. It was the last word he ever spoke.

    Chapter 2
     
    Arkael pulled his sword free from the priest's narrow chest, revealing a thin, red-stained hole in his brown woolen robe, the only evidence of a wound that penetrated straight to the heart. Caenwyld's body slumped to the ground, his hand grasping his chest, but he made no sound. He didn't grunt, or scream, or even whimper. He just fell, slowly, onto a thin stack of hay in the corner of the goat pen, his mouth still open in protest and his deep, hateful eyes locked on the valiant figure standing over him.  
    I stared at him far longer than was proper, caught at first by the surreal mystery of the scene, but it was Caenwyld’s eyes that held my gaze firm. I'd seen a wretched, foul evil in those eyes, enough to frighten me into terrified obedience. But when I looked at them now, they were sullen and lifeless. In fact, Caenwyld’s entire face seemed drawn and thin, and as his final breaths escaped his lips I wondered shamefully how I’d ever been afraid of such a weak old man.
    I closed my eyes, only for an instant, but when they opened again I realized how quiet and still the world had become, as if God himself ground everything to a halt so that He could ponder the death of this terrible man. The sluggish silence lasted only long enough for me to know it was there, though, and almost immediately after, the world returned to life with a start and the sounds of the village assaulted me with stunning clarity. The wind gusting around the corners of the church and rustling the timbers and hay. Dogs barking and chickens cackling in the distance. The screams and wailing of women and children. The roars and grunts of the raiders. My own shallow breaths. I heard clearly the sounds of murder, rapine and destruction coming from the unseen village on the other side of the church, and each cry of anguish lingered about me, a brutal reminder that we were far from safe.
    "Take her inside." The sound of Arkael's voice snapped me back to reality, like waking from an incredibly vivid dream, and like waking from a dream, the details seemed to fade just out of my