| He had been weak. He had not been strong enough, not fast enough to destroy Avatar and his minions. Pushing his thoughts aside, he focused on the task at hand. Lives were depending on him. �By the way, how many of them are there?� he asked the young man. The boy thought for a moment as they strolled along, then replied, �There were only ten or so, but since attacking the village and turning many of our citizens into one of them, around two hundred and seventy.� �Two hundred and seventy?� Walter gasped. �Aye, but they won�t be a problem for you, will they?� �Uh, hello? Two hundred and seventy vampires against one werewolf? Not very good odds. I�ve gotta come up with a plan or something to save your village before it�s too late.� His mind raced as he thought of a solution to his problem. Suddenly, he had an idea. He turned to the boy and asked, �Is there a church, or a place of worship nearby?� �Aye, but what good would that do?� �Can we get it to it and to your village before dark?� �Just barely, why?� �You�ll see. We have much to do. C�mon.� They headed off in the direction the boy was showing Walter to go, the boy running at full speed, Walter at a brisk jog. The young man was still having trouble keeping up with the supernatural speed of the lycanthrope human. He had to stop to allow the teenager to catch up. Just as Walter climbed to the top of a hill, the boy was, surprisingly, next to him. They looked down on a small simple structure made of stone, wood, and thatch. The only clue that it was a place of worship was the awkwardly made crucifix that adorned the roof. Walter looked at the building with a slight sense of uncertainty. He had been expecting something a little grander. �This is it . . . .?� �Aye,� the boy replied, �we built it for our village. Just something simple to be closer to God. Nothing more.� �Is there a priest or anyone there?� �Aye, Friar Goll.� �Let�s go,� Walter said, heading off down the hill. |
| As the boy knocked on the door, Walter stood beside him. They had already lost precious daylight, and could waste no more. The door opened with a screech. The hinges desperately needed to be oiled. A large bearded man opened the door to look upon them. He seemed terrified of Walter and the boy�s presence, meekly peeking from behind the slightly ajar door. �Who. . . who. . . is it?� he asked softly. �It�s Lashim,� the boy announced. �How do I know this isn�t some kind of trick to get in here?� the monk asked. |
| Walter was tired of this ridiculous game and forced the door open, easily overpowering the human priest, saying, �Because you would be dead already priest, if we wanted to kill you.� �Good point,� the priest noted as they came inside. Walter let his eyes wander over everything, taking in his surroundings. The room was small, with two short rows of pews, and an extremely small altar. The friar said to them, �Come, I live in the back. Can I get either of you something to eat?� �No, but we need your help,� Walter told him urgently. �How?� he asked. Walter grinned. �Glad you asked. . . .� �I made all of this when we were first attacked, but I just didn�t have the guts to do battle with them. People are dead because of my cowardice,� Friar Goll explained, �but I was so terrified. I lost my faith in God!� �No you didn�t,� Walter told him, �you lost faith in yourself. It�s perfectly normal to feel fear before going into battle. So, stop blaming yourself for everyone�s death.� The priest looked at him, obvious shame on his face. �Thank you for not judging me,� the priest said in a pathetic tone. He eyed him cryptically saying, �It�s not my place, but His,� indicating above himself Walter continued loading the wooden box with stakes, Holy Water, daggers, and a wicked-looking cross-bow. The priest stared at the floor, not saying anything. Walter noticed the intricate artwork of the box, running his hand over it appreciatively. A wood carver who really loved his work made this. It spoke to him somehow. The box was around two foot in length, half a foot in width, having two hinges that were connected to a lid. The lid had a clamp that held it closed in front. The incredible artwork depicted a battle between an angel and a demon. The box was carried by means of a leather strap that could be shouldered, or slung across the chest. As he put the strap over his head, Walter told him, �Stay in here and don�t come out until daylight, understand?� The man nodded, blessing him and making gestures over him, in hopes that it could aid him in his mission. Walter told Lashim, �Let�s go, it�s nearly dusk. We better hurry.� �Aye,� Lashim replied, heading for the door. �God bless you,� Friar Goll said, watching them both walk away. Noticing the time was late, he closed the door, barring it with a strong board. It was in God�s hands now . . . |
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