Hidden Truth

Jaecar sets off to hunt Gerik, Nzingha searches for her brother, and Fletcher finds out the truth of his father-in-law

 

 

Jaecar Landon ran through the catacombs underneath the main temple of the Church of the True. The catacombs were used to travel back when the meteorites were believed to be radioactive and deadly. When humans again rose to the surface, the catacombs were abandoned by all but the church. Now forgotten by most, the church uses them to travel with things most would frown upon. He made his way through the labyrinth of tunnels. The tunnels were well lit by the torches posted on the wall. Water dropped down periodically from the ceiling. He ran into a huge chamber. Sounds of steel against steel echoed throughout this part of the tunnel. Jaecar Landon turned the corner and saw many of his brethren practicing. The chamber was lit by light bulbs unlike the catacombs. Weapons aligned against the walls, fresh blood was splattered on the floor, servants rushed to bring water to monks resting against the cool stone walls. The ceiling was domed shaped with paintings of monks battling demonic looking beings. Landon always assumed that the images were depicting psychics, though now he believed his brethren and he were the demons. Jaecar Landon passed by the training area and headed up a man made stone stairway, which overlooked the training area below. He reached the top of the staircase, casually looked into a classroom, and stopped to listen what they were teaching the initiates.

“You are here because you all have decided to follow the true way” the instructor stated. He stood with a smile, “there are different types of believers and different ways to contribute to the church. Some pray to hope their prayers are answered. These people are weaklings who think only of themselves, though they can be of use sometimes. Some instruct and teach how to become believers. These missionaries should be respected for their dedication, and then there are the Jaecars.” The instructor gave an imposing glance to class “Jaecars are the hunters of the church. You give up your name, your body, and soul to the church. In return we give you peace that your soul will live on, but do not think that everything you were will be erased. You retain your last name, so your name becomes Jaecar so and so. Jaecars are the true strength behind the church, but you should know not all of you will make it” the instructor finished.

Jaecar stopped listening and walked off, “those kids have no idea what becoming one of us truly means” he thought. He passed by many rooms before reaching his own. He opened the door and strode to his closet space. He reached and grabbed his staff crafted from meteorite. He walked out of his room to find Francis near the door way.

“You seriously hate me?” Francis asked.

“If you ever stand in my way again” he thought, and would have said if his throat wasn’t damaged.

He walked past without answering and hustled through the catacombs hoping his target hadn’t left quite yet.

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Nzingha, Izyan, and Duncan managed to slip through the city no problem. It was night now, and the taverns were busy as always. Drunken men wandered the street, women clad in promiscuous clothing advertised themselves, and thieves were in on the lookout for drunks wandering by themselves. As they neared the docks and warehouse thick fog began to obscure their vision.

 Duncan merely smiled through it all “this boy better be worth my time.”

Nzingha glared at him which made Duncan’s smile larger.

Izyan pulled the same planks he used as a door before and stepped inside. The fog had drifted through the holes in the warehouse, making it hard to see and creepier than it was before.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Duncan asked.

They all paused and heard sounds like feet shuffling.

“Gerik is that you?” Nzingha asked aloud.

“Keep it down will ya, I’m trying to sleep” a voice yelled.

Duncan materialized his hammer and swung it towards the ground. The earth gave in to his powerful blow; the sudden rush blew the fog towards the corners of the warehouse, and revealed a homeless man cowering from the suddenness of it all.

 “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me. I’ll find another place to stay” the man stammered.

“No it’s fine; please do not worry about it. We are just looking for my brother” Nzingha explained. She gave Duncan a harsh look.

“I didn’t see anyone here when I came, but I did see a note” the man explained as he pointed out the note sitting on a box near her.

She read the note aloud.

“I told him not go to that girl’s house” Izyan said frustrated.

“Should we wait or should we go?” Duncan asked.

“We should go” Nzingha told them. What she didn’t tell them was how uneasy she felt.

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Fletcher just finished telling the story to Lord Pride. Ceri’s father sat in his chair stroking his beard when Fletcher’s tale had ended. Fletcher stared at his soon to be father- in-law. His round face seemed to be always red and his gray beard reached his waist. How this man ever brought his beautiful love into creation befuddled Fletcher, but he couldn’t have thoughts like that now.

“What more can you tell me of the young man and his sister?” Lord Pride asked.

“Well he” Fletcher began, but was interrupted when Gerik kicked open the door.

“What are you doing busting into my” Lord Pride began, and promptly stopped when Gerik’s sword seemed to appear at his throat.

“What are you doing?” Fletcher asked him. He stood and put himself between Gerik and Ceri’s father.

“There is a monk somewhere in this house” Gerik told him calmly.

“Wait what?”

“The monk and that man were having a conversation right before we arrived” Gerik told him.

Gerik eyes scanned the room. It was a modest sized study; bookshelves filled with books covered the walls, an oak desk filled with papers, a globe of the world sat on a golden stand, and slide open doors to what Gerik assumed was a closet. Gerik closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and blocked out all the noise around him.

“Why was there a monk here talking to you?” Fletcher asked Lord Pride.

“I can’t say no when the church comes knocking” he answered. “I’m a believer.”

“So were you even going to help me?” Fletcher choked on every word.

“Of course I would help anyway I can” he replied, patting the air to calm him down.

“Don’t lie to him” Ceri yelled from the doorway.

“I am your father and man of this household. I provide everything that you have, so when I say do something, you do it” her father yelled.

“Don’t yell at her” Fletcher said. He flashed with anger over being betrayed, being helpless, and his love being yelled at. “No, I’m going to fight this time” he thought to himself. He looked at Ceri’s father with newfound determination and punched him. Lord Pride staggered backwards, crashing into his desk, and knocking over the contents on it.

Lord Pride rubbed his aching jaw. His other hand found his letter opener, shaped like a thin dagger under his papers. He stealthily palmed it, and slid it in his sleeve. “Calm down son. Let’s be rational about this.”

“Fletcher I’m so sorry. My dad was the one who told the church about Felicity” Ceri sobbed.

“You dumb w***e” Ceri’s father screamed.

Fletcher stalked towards Lord Pride, his knuckles white from being balled into a tight fist, his face flushed with anger, and his breath came in great heaves as if on the verge of exploding. Fletcher towered above him, but paused when he heard a gushing sound followed by a grunt.

Gerik could hear the conversation and blocked it out. He focused all his senses. Something alerted him. He wasn’t sure if it was his warrior senses, or if he truly was a psychic. Whatever it was told him to strike. He twirled his sword, gripped it with both hands, crouched, and burst forward thrusting his blade at a bookshelf. He turned his blade as he shoved it forward, so that the blade was vertical. It slid between two books and stopped going forward. Gerik opened his eyes to see blood flowing towards him, on his sword. Gerik pulled on his blade slowly. Fletcher and Gerik worked together to move the bookcase.

The tunnel was wide enough to fit three men standing side by side. Light bulbs hung on the ceiling illuminating a trail of blood leading deeper into the tunnel. The stench of blood mingled with the musty smell of the cave. Gerik rushed into the cave knowing that the wounded monk couldn’t have gotten far.

Fletcher glanced over to Lord Pride “You got my little sister taken, betrayed me again by pretending to be my ally, have made Ceri cry, and now your monk won’t survive. What do you have to say in your defense?” Fletcher walked over to Ceri’s father, who was still sitting on the floor. Fletcher punched him again and again. Ceri’s father tried to defend himself to no avail. Fletcher continued to pummel on him.

“Stop you are killing him” Ceri screamed. She dove on Fletcher knocking him off balance.

Fletcher and Ceri looked into into each other’s eyes. Fletcher put his hand to her face; his eyes suddenly went wide, he leaned on her. Ceri hugged him in a loving embrace; she guessed his shirt was wet because some liquid was on her hand. Her father stood and she noticed the letter opener dripping with blood. The realization stole her breath, she shuddered uncontrollably, she refused to look at her hand.

Lord Pride grabbed his daughter and pulled as hard as he could, but she would not let Fletcher go. He’s gone child let’s go quickly

“Fletcher NOO!” at the top of her voice.

 

Gerik wasn’t far behind the monk. Gerik soon learned that there were many twists and turns down here. The monk struggled with every breath, his vision grew dim, and he slipped on his own blood. Gerik pounced as he tried to stand, grabbing the monk’s hair, and kneeing the guy in the spine brought him down quickly. Gerik felt the monk’s pulse, “he won’t last long’ he thought to himself.

“My will is done already” the monk gasped. “The message has been sent, and there will be no escaping the judgment” the monk finished. The monk gave a raspy laugh.

“I’ve learned that you monks are cold blooded, that you care for no one but yourselves. I’m learning from you monks every day, so I will teach you what I’ve learned.” Gerik knelt down. “It takes hours maybe even days for a person to die from being stabbed in the gut. You must have a power to send messages telepathically. That might aid you, but I will make sure that you will have some trouble getting out of this one” Gerik punched the monk many times. The monk lay senseless on the ground. Gerik dragged him to a random chamber. It must have been used as a gathering place long ago. There were no lights like before. Gerik could hear rats and decided this is a good place. “My dad told me once that a rat could chew through brick, and they will eat anything” Gerik whispered. “Just like you monks can destroy families, and will do anything that you want” he screamed. Pitter patter of many feet scurrying across the ground gave Gerik the impression that his voice scared them away. Gerik walked away, “you guys have a lot in common, so I will leave you here to mingle with your friends.”

“No wait please I beg you, don’t leave me in the dark” the monk called out.

“I begged also that day” Gerik thought to himself. He walked out of the chamber. He memorized the turns he took to get there, and soon found the lights like before. He could hear the monk’s crying for him, and the very thought of what he had done caused him to vomit. The bile burned the back of his throat, but he would not turn back. “Once you draw your sword be committed to cut your opponent and be cut” Gerik said his father’s proverb over and over steeling his resolve. As Gerik neared the end of the tunnel, he heard Ceri’s scream echo off the walls. He ran to find Fletcher’s body in a pool of blood, and Ceri being dragged down the stairs. Gerik flipped Fletcher over. His chest barely rose, but he was breathing. Gerik check the wound, Fletcher would live if he got some help quickly. Gerik growled and ran down the stairs. A monk stood in the doorway with a staff made of meteorite. Its surface was smooth and polished.

The monk removed his cowl from his face, “this time no interruptions” the monk said.

 His voice was low and difficult to hear, but Gerik understood that he wouldn’t be getting to that fat b*****d anytime soon.

 

The monk crawled in the direction he thought Gerik walked towards, but in fact he was going deeper into the chamber. The squeaks of rats seemed to get nearer and nearer. He even thought he felt one brush him. He imagined the rats tearing into his still breathing body, and couldn't help but wail about his circumstance. "What had I done to deserve this God" he thought to himself. He silently prayed when he felt a very sharp pain. He shook his leg and felt something fly off of it, "the damn rats are eating me." The squeaks continued to grow closer and more numerous. "Help me" he sent telepathically to his bishop. He knew that the bishop received his message because he couldn't not get it. He saw a glint of light. With hope he crawled towards it. He ignored the squeaks, though he felt more sharp pains. He flicked and kicked even though it pained him greatly to do so. The glint grew closer and he felt hope restored. The monk reached into his robes for a flashlight. He had the flashlight, but feared that whatever he saw would be worse than knowing. He turned on his flashlight, and suddenly felt regret. The flashlight fell upon the ancient torn away bodies and jewels. The monk screamed when he realized that the glint of light came from the creature before him. This creature appeared to be a rat. It was much bigger than he with, claws the size of his elbow to tips of his fingers, meteorites, and huge bones stuck out of its body giving it a prehistoric like appearance. The monk realized that the glint came from when the monstrosity shifted its body, and its protrusion scraped against the stone. A horde of rats crawled around it. The monster turned to face the monk; its red eyes reflected his fear back into his face.

"What has happened?" the bishop asked telepathically.

The monk quickly turned off his light. The monster raked its claws across his chest. The monk sent one last message to the bishop. His dying scream echoed throughout the bishops head. Other rats joined the frenzy tearing at and out his eyes, finger, nose, heart, tongue, and every conceivable amount of his flesh. The  giant rat ate rats and flesh alike, roaring victory over its new slaughter.

Author's Note

Ok I got inspiration from Karmic's review of my last chapter. I thought it would be fun to let the readers decide the fate Ceri's father. Either leave it in a review of this chapter or send it to me in a message if you would rather keep your choice secret. I also thought as a bonus I would add the monk's demise

Reviews

[Tina Kline]

Wow. What an ending for that monk. Great chapter.

[Coyote Poetry]

Chapter open many new doors for the story. I like the ending a lot. Bad people need a good death. A outstanding chapter.
Coyote

[karmic]

Yay Ceri's father got beat down.

Also nice chapter. Keep it up.

[Abhinav]

Wow...i'm liking this story soo much........
full on
100/100
send me requests as soon as you make the next chapter