Volumes of Sin

Volume One - Chapter Five

No longer did the sounds of battle crash out through the night. There were no more sonorous prayers from the fallen brothers, no lifeless gasps as undead fell, there was only an unnatural quiet, the cemetery had regained its eerie peace.

The sun had steadily risen and dispersed the miasma that clogged the skies, revealing the nights grisly work. Disfigured bloated bodies lay in the light, decaying and fading under the suns warm touch, leaving no evidence of the evil blight. The horrors had been put to rest.

Six brothers knelt and prayed towards the rising sun, stained with blood they all bared wounds where flesh and tissue hung from their pious frames, but still they spoke in unison expressing their faith and belief. Even as the bodies of their fallen brothers lay before them.

We are the lights of life and fires of hope,

Immortal and righteous in faith,

we punish the wicked and absolve the pure.

Our father resides in us, his power flows through us,

We are to do his duty and care for his flock.

We weigh the sinners on scales of fire,

We devout ourselves to his image and carry out his duty,

As he takes our sins so that we may stay pure and uncorrupted.

Our Father guide us onwards,

In your name we walk.

Standing from prayer the brothers ignored the crumbling of the dead as they shrivelled to ash, instead turning their minds towards their fallen brothers. Still lying where they fell. After Brother Tall had abandoned them the undead had only grown more rampant, flinging themselves into the brothers as they ignored the sanctified ground, happy to trade dead flesh for a taste of the living. Brother Gail had truly acted as the Father in that moment. With strong chants he broke out in resplendent light as he single-handedly stalled the horde of undead, buying time for them to regroup and gain temporary reprieve.

It was as if the Holy spirit of the father had descended and chosen Gail as his successor, to spread his light and faith throughout the land, the brothers moral had risen to a tremendous degree before crashing down. Despite his fervour filled strength Gail was pierced from behind with the blade of a fallen brother, one who had already fallen only to rise again, too tired to anoint himself in life, only to be corrupted in death. What followed was a mad melee as the brothers were forced back, by undead and brother alike, forced to attack their own. Outside of the cemetery grounds they bled as they recovered, the undead not yet able to extend their reach so far, only having freshly risen.

They had failed their task.

Again and again they entered the miasmic walls surrounding the cemetery, determined to fulfil their duty, their faith demanded it. Time and time again they clashed with the undead as more of their brothers fell, until the dead rose no more, they had stayed strong and accomplished their task. Only Brother Twig doubted this coincidence, the dead do not just stop, there was always a cause behind their dark actions. Was it really so easy? Had they finished their task...or did someone else do it for them?

Doubt filled Twig's mind even as his brothers continued to dwell in contentment as they prayed with the rising sun, determinedly believing in their success. They recovered the bodies of the fallen, what pieces they could find, aiming to return them to the church where they could be laid to rest in its many halls. Wrapping them in cloth they carried them on stretchers improvised from now owner-less belongings. They found no part of Brother Gail, he had attracted the undead avarice too well, only his shield remained, broken as it was.

A morose atmosphere hung around the remaining brothers as they walked away, figures cloaked and burdened, head bowed once more in prayer. Only Brother Twig stopped to briefly turn around, wondering what had happened to their tallest brother. Was he even alive? How were they supposed to mourn him when they didn't even know his name?

Twig didn't blame him as the others did, they blamed Brother Tall for abandoning them as Brother Trist had also done. But Twig knew something or someone had disrupted the undead, ceasing their unending march. Had it been Brother Tall's doing? Would have they died if not for his selfless acts? It wasn't his place to question, once they returned and reported the course of events it was for their seniors to judge. Turning around Brother Twig continued his march as he caught up to his fellow brothers, helping them to bare the bodies of the fallen. One stray thought flowed strongly through his mind, refusing to be subdued. If the church sought to find and punish Brother Tall then would they also punish Brother Trist, despite his deep ties in the church.

Whilst one ran from the battle the other ran towards it.

Would all be fair before faith?

Brother Twig shook his head, trying to dispel the doubt that had wiggled its way in, it was best to leave those kind of thoughts with the dead.

He had to trust in the Father.

Unseen by any was the distorted figure of Brother Tall as he slowly limped his way out from amongst the miasma ridden graves, his battle-torn and scarred body illuminated under the sun, with no one to witness the runes as they raced across his skin. Their dark shine making it look as if he had been dyed in blood, they were still celebrating the arrival of their newest friend. Brother Tall ignored the actions of the runes, all too used to it, he was focused on his task. Away from the graveyard he walked, disappearing into the morning mist, he did not aim to return home as the others did, to celebrate and proclaim their new found faith and strength. He was different, they were driven by duty whilst he was driven by faith.