The Persecuted

Chapter 19

"Who could it be at this time of night?" brother Orel complained. He pulled the hood of his robe over his head to protect from the rain. The banging at the gate sounded again. He hurried his steps. The monastery was so out of the way for regular travellers that it was rare to get any visitors. Only the Inquisitors and others associated with the Church dropped by, but rarely during the night. The rain hissed as it fell on the lamp he was holding. He crossed the courtyard with quick steps and arrived at the gate.

Orel opened the small hatch in the gate door and looked outside. He raised the lantern to get some light. There were two figures standing in the rain, huddled deep under their thick capes. "Who are you and what is your business here?" He had learned to be suspicious of any visitor coming in late and these did not seem like men of the Church.

"Forgive the late hour, brother. We are just two weary travellers looking for shelter from the rain."

"Show me your faces," Orel demanded. They did as told. He was surprised by the fact the other one was a woman and her hair was a pure white. Most unusual. He did his best to get a look at their eyes in the poor light. Green the both of them. People to be respected then, unlikely to be bandits.

"Very well." Orel shut the small hatch and opened the gate door to let the two in. Both carried heavy looking backpacks, but there were no horses for either of them. "Follow me." He led them across the courtyard and under the protection of one of the many covered walkways that connected the various buildings of the monastery.

Both travellers let out a sigh of relief as they wrangled down their heavy looking packs. The man rubbed his shoulders. Orel noticed the sword at his hip. It wasn't unusual for a traveller. The roads could be dangerous.

"We can't thank you enough," said the man. "A few more hours in this rain and we would both be coughing our lungs out the next day while fighting a fewer." He smiled pleasantly.

"We don't get many travellers around these parts," said Orel and examined the woman. Underneath her cape was a simple dress. Nothing fancy, but not the most expensive either. Well suited for a journey. The pack she carried looked like it would have been too heavy for her slender shoulders, but she had carried it none the less.

"Ah, yes," said the man. "I imagine not. We ourselves were stuck in the mountains for the entire winter. Rough times."

"You're miners then?" asked Orel. Few others would stay in the mountains. Even most miners came down to spend the harsh months in a more hospitable environment.

"You could say that," said the man and glanced at the woman. When he looked back at Orel his eyes had turned from green to a spoke wheel like mix of colours. The young brother gasped, but before he could shout the cold steel of a sword sank into his gut.

"We're mining for something all right," said Adan and pulled the blade out. The monk sunk to the ground, hand holding the bleeding wound. He'd die soon enough and the way he was gasping for breath ensured he wasn't going to alarm any others.

"You still need practice with your eyes," said Nora. Her green eyes had turned into red ones as was natural for her.

"I managed it long enough for us to get in," said Adan and wiped the bloody blade on the now unconscious monks robe.

"If we are to walk in public you will have to manage it longer than that," said Nora and rummaged through her pack. She pulled out a piece of cloth that wasn't completely soaked and began to dry off her hair.

"I wonder how many of them are here," said Adan and looked around. From the outside all you could see were the walls surrounding the place. Now that he was inside he saw enough of the buildings to know there could be dozens of monks in there.