The Hunted and Their Hunters
The church was found in the middle of the woods covered in large-leafed ivy. The door creaked from rusty hinges when she opened it to go in to the cavernous room. The pews were dressed in moss and more ivy, and the doors by the isle remained shut. The stained glass windows depicted nothing, but the light from them lit up the room in ghostly colors.
She approached the alter and bowed on her knees, her hands locked together and her heart speaking silently through her mouth. There was silence as she asked and thanked to the empty chair covered in climbing roses. They were red and in bloom.
The silence was due, in part to the leaves. They seemed to soak up sound as much as sunlight, and in terms of footsteps, there was nothing left for the human ear. He always kept this to his advantage and was able to walk right beside her without her noticing. The invisibility ring would do the rest to keep him anonymous. He had a reputation to uphold.
She looked at the chair in one last plea before standing up. But she didn’t turn straight back towards the door, instead continued to an alcove next to the alter on the left side. The alcove held a set of stairs which led to a large dusty room above their heads. However, her unexpected path sent her sprawling as she tripped over his invisible legs.
In a fluid motion, he took of the ring and put it in his pocket. She had just enough time to roll over and spot him and his hand reaching out to help her up.
“You!” she spat. “How could you come in this church?”
He chuckled emptily. “I’m praying just like you.”
She took his hand, but glared at him. “How could you mock His sanctity like this? You’ve murdered hundreds, no thousands, leaving them to burn, and yet you show up in a church of those you hunt and say you are praying to their god!”
“Everyone must eat. And if it is any consolation, I pray to be taken in the same manner as the people I kill.”
She snorted. “It is not enough to pray; you have to do something about it. If you were really sorry you would have given up long ago on your orders and let the other church burn you with us.”
“It’s not that easy! I am part of two separate groups who are being hunted—the green folk and the shadow kin. All the while, I am really part of the hunters. I can’t give myself up on my mission. I pray for you to find a way out, really. Rebecca.”
She made motion for a retort, but was caught off guard by the mention of her name. All of a sudden he looked much older than the teenager he was supposed to be. He looked older than her, though she knew he couldn’t be. Suddenly it hit her what her preachers meant by conversion.
“How did you know my name?” she asked, breathlessly.
“Rebecca was the missionary daughter of the family in Barley. They were killed seven days ago and they bid me give you this.” He pulled out a glass ball, perfectly polished to reflect the green light. It was heavy in her hand, but as she reached to put it in her pocket, it shrunk to the size of a pea.
“They hope you’ll be an ambassador and mend the broken ties with the shadow kin,” he said quietly, “I promise I’ll do all in my power to help.”
She nodded. “Why didn’t you approach me earlier? You were obviously praying here before I tripped?”
“I had to be sure it was you,” he said. “No one else would go towards the bell tower.”
She sighed. “Fine, but don’t let me down.”
He nodded. “I won’t."
This entry was posted on Sunday, September 9th, 2007 at 9:51 pm and is filed under Fantasy, Fiction Prose. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.