FALSE ANGEL

“Where are we going?” Hazel’s voice pierced the silence as the family walked up the hill towards the Prontera Church. Rohane knew that his brother was wishing they would change course at the intersection, and Hazel voiced his thoughts accordingly.

              

 “Don’t tell me we’re going to that damned church. I can’t stand Father Niacha at all! That poser thinks he can just�"“

                

“That’s no way to talk about our revered leader like that! Hazel, I am ashamed of you. And what is a poser? Don’t tell me you have been going around those new taverns…” Rohane’s mother gave Hazel a piercing glare.

            

 “Adelia�"I mean Mom, how can you not see past his lies? Just look at the way his face resonates with evil! I’m much better off reading my Bible at home on Sunday.”

               

 “Well, you can wait outside,” said his mother crisply. “I need to talk to the other church deacons on a few matters.”

               

 “But mom�"“

                

“You will address me as Sister Adelia or Mrs. Brookelander on church grounds!” Hazel looked contemptuously at his mother before stalking off into a nearby potion shop. As the rest of the family walked closer towards the church doors, Rohane could make out the ensemble of leaders and deacons, all staring in muted horror at something inside…

                

“How dare you come into this holy and sanctified place, you�"“

                Rohane covered his ears, as Father Niacha continued his rant at two people dressed in old, tattered clothing.

               

 “ Do you really think that this swine you carry with you could become an acolyte?”

                The older of the pair, a woman named Ms. Itsume, spoke directly at Father Niacha without faltering. “I am surprised that the council wants to continue having someone like you as their cherished leader.”

               

 Suddenly, the younger of that pair timidly raised his head and spoke. “Please, sir, may I just try the test to become an-an acolyte?”

               

 “What, the idiot can talk?” Father Niacha released a chain of crude words, blatantly ignoring the shocked faces that peered through the church doors. “I will not have a bunch of rags litter this church with filth. Nor will I have his mother, who is nothing more than a strumpet, come and do any business in these whereabouts.”

               

“Velm, honey, let’s go. This man clearly needs to repent himself.” Ms. Itsume started to lead her son down the steps leading to the pulpit. Father Niacha glared at the two. She acts as if I need to repent. What should she know? That woman truly defines b***h, and her son… Father Niacha’s face twisted into a demonic snarl. He grabbed the nearest object, an ages old Church Bible, and whipped it at the retreating figures, who paused and turned in utter horror as the book went sailing over their heads. As it crashed into the wall, Father Niacha swept down the stairs and roughly pushed Velm Itsume and his mother down. The crying boy hit the floor, his mother regaining her balance as the Priest gave a crooked smirk.

                

“GET OUT OF MY CHURCH!” He roared, brandishing a still-burning candlestick. Scalding wax dripped onto the poor boy at his feet. Ms. Itsume grabbed her son, picked up her broken coin bag, and rushed out of the church past a very frightened looking group of onlookers. The council had made up their minds. As soon as they finished witnessing their once passionate and revered leader now falling for Satanic ways, they stepped into the church.

               

“Father Niacha!” Whatever else Sister Adelia was going to shout escaped her mind as she stared at the leader of the church. The Bible he had flung across the sanctuary now laid half concealed on his lap as he pretended to finger it lovingly. He looked up with exaggerated slowness and saw the angry faces of the council. He pretended to smile, then read the first line of the page in a flat tone. “And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set�"“ His face paled as he realized what he had just read.

               

“ That perfectly describes you.” Sister Adelia looked at the Father and continued, “You are no longer the leader of this church, I hope you understand that. Please pray to God for forgiveness.”

                

“Forgiveness! I need forgiveness?” Father Niacha stood up, the Bible he was carefully holding together falling apart as he smirked. “This is my church. MINES! You can’t overthrow me from my own church! NONE OF YOU HAVE THE POWER! LEAVE RIGHT NOW, BEFORE�"“ He never got to finish his sentence, as the heavy oak doors burst open and a crowd of guards and townsmen rushed in. Father Niacha rushed for the nearest side door, but never made it. He growled as they grabbed him from behind and walked him to a caged cart chariot, where the guards subdued him. The false angel stripped of his most cherished title, the church council now faced another problem.

                

“How will we ever find anyone to replace him? He had so much knowledge of the Bible,” one of the council members sighed.

               

 “Yes,” said another, “but I don’t think it was ever in his heart. He did it just for the sake of power.”

                

In a minute, the council’s problems escalated as Rohane urgently tugged his mother’s sleeve.

               

 “Mom, the church is on fire!”

The struggle had indeed knocked over three of the flaming candlesticks, and now the entire pulpit and a few surrounding pots of flowers were ablaze.

 

            Shouts rang out from the town. Soon, over 30 volunteers were wheeling large barrels of water from a nearby well, while others muttered spells that brought cascades of water down on the flames. However, in the time it had taken to organize the affair, the flames had caught on the centuries-old Curtain of Prontera Church, circa 1289. It first curled, as if trying to resist the fire, then burst into flames. The church members watched, horrified, then hapless, as the priceless artefact burned. The familiar faces of the original church counsel distorted, seeming to smile briefly before blackening and turning into ash.

 

            “The rafters are going to catch on fire,” moaned a priestess, “and then we’re doomed!”

 

            Suddenly, a powerful Sorceror from Prontera spoke. Instantly, the flames flew from the burning wood timbers and scorched fabric into his outstretched hands. Muttering something about inadequately trained wizards, he hobbled away before disappearing at the end of the road.

 

            “Oh bless his soul, old Arvmagin. He’s never left that small hut of his until now,” said an old lady who had just started her mage training. Her eyes shined with adoration.

 

            As the volunteers filed away, and the crowd gradually dispersed, Sister Adelia took charge.

            “All right, there has been great damage done to the curtain, but everything else is fixable or replaceable. I want you all to calm down. Sister Fulivisia! Stop running around screaming at Brother Raben. Where is Brother Andre?”

 

            “He hasn’t been seen since last night,” said an elderly helper. “I saw him enter Father Niacha’s private quarters though.”

 

            “Well,” muttered a council member haughtily, “he is no longer our leader and thus, we have every right to search his room.”

 

            Without waiting for Sister Adelia, or, for that matter, half of the council’s assent, the younger council members marched off towards Father Niacha’s chambers.

 

            Sister Adelia sighed, then heard a shriek. Running, the rest of the council hot on her heels, she arrived at the door. Inside was the most beautiful, lavish surroundings she had ever seen. Diamond insets lay everywhere, she suspected that at least a few of the furniture was solid gold, and on a large bowl-shaped table was an enormous sum of zeny, enough to feed Aunt Shurna and her family for three years. She noticed how chipped the zeny were, as if they had belonged to the poor… then her eyes fell on his sceptre, lying on the ground, encrusted with a red, dark substance.

 

            Her eyes fell on the object beside it. Brother Andre lay there, a pool of dried blood stemming from his head. The council members had all crowded behind her, horrified at the very sight. After taking a deep breath, she spoke.

 

            “I want this room cleared, its contents destroyed, and Brother Andre brought to his family. We will use this as further proof at Father Niacha’s trial.”

 

            Rohane was trying to peer past the huddled bodies of the council crowding around Father Niacha’s door when they all rushed back, almost running him over. He ran to his mother’s side, trying to ask what happened.

 

            “Mom, what’s in there? Is it a dragon? Or a�" ”

 

            “Rohane, please be quiet for a moment. We are very, very busy right now.”

 

            It had only been ten minutes since the discovery of Brother Andre’s death, however the town criers had done their job. Rohane could see the flames on the distant hill that were lit every time someone of importance died.

 

            The Prontera Council  did not rest. They instantly organized committees to track all families that had been robbed of their money by the evil high priest. Each family was given a sum of 80 000  zeny, as well as extra provisions. Sister Adelia, spotting Ms. Itsume struggling with her rather large bag of provisions, rushed over.

 

            “Ms. Itsume, I am so sorry about Father Niacha.”

 

            She sighed. “Sometimes, people who look good, really aren’t inside.” Her thoughts turned to her husband. She had married him on a whim, but he had seemed to care, had seemed to love her. She had put aside all differences�"the fact that he was an assassin hadn’t turned her away; in fact, she had been determined to show more love to him due to that. And then, the day when he had tossed her and her “no good woman of a son” out of the house…

 

            “�"I was wondering, would you like to stay for dinner?”

           

            Ms. Itsume paused, trying to recall their conversation, before saying yes. “Well, thank you! You are very kind. It is people like you that should be leading the church. Velm, honey, say thank you to this nice lady�"was it Adelia?”

 

            Velm poked his head out from behind her. Giving a faltering, but real smile, he murmured his thanks.

 

            That night, the Brooklanders, Itsumes and Lavoisiers sat late into the night after the scrumptious dinner Sister Adelia had prepared.

 

            “I don’t know what has become of this land,” said Ms. Itsume gravely. “The darkness has overtaken it very much. I’ve seen the ancient books�"there was almost always death or disaster near when the leader of what’s supposed to be good turned out to be evil.”

 

            “Oh, but I must… oh dear,” said Sir Feylihon. “Looks like it’s later than I thought. We have a couple of guestrooms, you are welcome to stay the night if you wish.”

 

            “If you wish?” said Sister Adelia loudly. “Of course they must stay! To walk home at this time of night, that would be, well, insane!”

 

            “We could always go to the local inn,” said Ms Itsume and Aunt Shurna, almost in unison. However, they both turned to look at their children, who had nodded off.

 

            “Well it’s decided then,” said Sir Feylihon heartily. “You’re staying.”

 

            A few days later, Ms Itsume left with her son, and some extra belongings quietly placed in her bag by the Brooklanders. Mipsy was excited that she would be accompanying Rohane, to Izlude.

 

            “So, are you worried about your sword test?”

 

            Rohane tried to look brave. “Well, actually, it’s a swordsman test. And of course I am. I mean, no, I’m not, but of course I am ready…”

           

            Mipsy giggled. In the early afternoon, after another splendid meal, both families set off. Hazel kept poking Rohane, or accidentally pushing him in Mipsy’s direction, until he received a sharp look from his mother. The adults chatted nonchalantly, but their thoughts always centred on the still shocking debacle of the Prontera Church.

 

            Rohane ran ahead again, looking for a sign of the swordsman village. He liked to run until he had lost breath, and then wait for his family and Mipsy to catch up. It made him feel superior, as if he were the leader.

 

            “ROHANE,” he heard the distant voice of Hazel, “ YOU’RE RUNNING THE WRONG WAY.”

 

            Upon rejoining his group, even more out of breath, he could not protest as Hazel laughed, Mipsy giggled and even Sister Adelia smiled.

 

            Passing over another hill, Rohane saw the sparkling sea. An island sat, connected by a bridge, in the distance.

 

            “Ah, there it is,” mused Sir Feylihon. “Izlude, home of the swordsman guild.”

 

Author's Note

reveiw please