Heretic Ch. 02

Chapter 2: Blasphemy

The site of Hilde's murder was exactly where Emilie had said it would be. Still, Maelice did not expect what she saw. As she moved across the forest floor, carefully avoiding any twigs, Maelice eyed the circle in front of her.

A clearly marked circle. The blood that was smeared over the cleared ground was still red, even if dried. Chunks of innards and flesh were scattered in the marked sigil, still wet and glistening. Maelice frowned, as she knelt by what she guessed was a chunk of Hilde's heart.

She picked up the hunk of flesh, and even through her gloves could feel it was still wet, as if torn out just moments ago. Not over a week. There were no tooth marks from animals, no sign of rot or bugs. Maelice frowned, and dropped the piece back to the ground. She soon found a clean patch and wiped her hand across it.

After she rose to her feet Maelice moved to the infinity symbol, still marked with blood though the intestines and body were gone. Maelice used her toe to break the link, and started to move around the circle. She smudged away the foul sign of Mammon and stopped to stand again in the middle of the clearing.

A twig cracked somewhere nearby in the forest. Maelice paused and listened and soon heard another crack not far off. Too clumsy for wolves, so there was more than one. With how yesterday's journey to the abbey went, and those demonic forms in the trees, Maelice guessed she was about to be visited by cultists.

She opened the satchel she had brought, and reached in to pull out her bible and a flask of holy water. She sprinkled the ground, and held the bible in the other hand. She did not need to open it as the waters soaked into the earth, for the words of the Book of Numbers she'd long since memorized.

"Do not pollute the land where you are. Bloodshed pollutes the land, and atonement cannot be made for the land on which blood has been shed, except by the blood of the one who shed it," Maelice said aloud in Latin, then closed her flask and slipped both it and the bible back into her satchel.

Another footfall caught her ears, much closer this time. Maelice looked up to see a bare chested and bare foot man approaching her. His trousers were ragged, showing slivers of the skin beneath. Hanging from one hip was a sack, weighed down with whatever it held, and in his hand was a simple wood cutter's axe. Behind her, Maelice heard another approaching, and a third from her right. They were trying to circle like wolves; they simply weren't as good at it.

Maelice slowly dug her foot into the earth as she watched the man approach.

"Pretty words. Not seen a nun dressed as you before. Black habit, and is that mail underneath? Very pretty, goes with those witch eyes of yours," he said in German, a grin across his face, though his cautious steps belied his confident words. The man was no fool. Maelice kept silent, and listened to the others closing in. "Not interested in conversation then? Perhaps I cut you up to fix the damage you've done to my shrine here. Like the last sister who came wandering where she wasn't welcome."

When he got close enough Maelice kicked up her foot. Dirt and a few loose stones flew up into his face. The man's hand shot up too late as he stumbled back flailing his axe. Maelice jumped back and turned her gaze as she pulled her sword free. The man behind her showed a look of shock that she even knew of his presence.

The pommel of her sword smashed into the bottom of his jaw. There was a hard clack as teeth smashed down on his tongue. The cultist stumbled back, blood gushed from his lips as he swayed on his feet. Maelice turned though and caught the swipe from the third attacker. She heard the second man fall to the ground as she drove her knee upwards. With the mail beneath her habit, Maelice drove metal into this third man's groin.

He doubled over, before a second knee drove upwards again into his genitals. The first man was rushing at her now, blinking through the dirt in his eyes. His axe lifted high as Maelice slipped around the third of the cultists. Her sword cut across his unprotected middle, slicing deep into flesh and exposing his innards.

He fell to his knees, and vomited as he grasped at his side. The second man was starting to pick himself up, and the first was nearly upon the nun. She moved again, keeping the third of them between herself at the first. Her foot lashed out hitting the wounded man's head. He toppled over and crashed into the first man's legs.

The two fell to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. Maelice stood over the first man who was trying to get off of his comrade, and plunged her blade down into his back. Through ribs and heart she cleaved, earning a gurgled gasp as she tore the lung as well.

A quick glance upwards showed the second man on his feet, unsteady but advancing. Maelice stomped her foot down on the dead man beneath her, and earned a grunt of agony from the wounded man beneath him. She walked around the pile of the bloodied two, and faced the second man.

He came towards her, blood streaming from his mouth. He opened his mouth to shout at her, showing the severed tongue, but not a word made any sense. He rushed her, and she cracked the side of his axe. His arm went out wide and Maelice drove the point of her sword into his guts, and under his ribs. He gasped, fresh blood bubbled up in his mouth as he fell back to the ground, sword stuck inside him.

The third man had managed to get out from under his friend, but had pulled free a greasy loop of his guts at he did. He stared upwards at the nun that slammed her foot down onto his friend's chest.

"I thought God was merciful," he said with a piteous whine.

Maelice looked at him briefly, before she grasped the hilt of her sword, and twisted the blade inside the man beneath her.

"God is merciful. I am not," she said, and pulled.

The steel edge caught against the second cultist's ribs. He let out a sputtering cough and wheeze before bone began to crack and muscle tear. Slowly one side of the man's ribs opened like uncurling fingers. He gave one last shudder as he died, the torn ruins of his lung and the now still heart within exposed to God. Maelice felt her mouth watering at the sight of gushing blood and mangled flesh.

The last surviving cultist bowed his head as Maelice walked to him. Fear clutched him as he felt the point of the sword against his back.

"Mammon forgive my failure," the man sobbed, and Maelice pushed her sword down to kill him.

The air had gone still once more, and Maelice looked about her for any other attackers, but found the surrounding forest still as a tomb. She pulled her blade free and knelt by the two corpses at her feet. No tattoos, no scars, no markings at all on their flesh. Just normal men, though with very little in the way of clothing.

She brought the tip of her sword down and slipped it in the loop that held onto one man's bag. She cut it free and knelt to pick it up. Maelice had to crinkle her nose as the too familiar stench of voided bowels flooded her awareness. Death was ever so rarely a pleasant thing.

Sack in hand she stood again, and moved away from the bodies as their blood soaked into the ground. Pulling the bag open, Maelice upended it, spilling the contents to the ground. Coins, jewellery, well made goblets, and other trinkets fell and clattered on the ground.

Crouching, sword rested across her thighs, Maelice plucked a coin from the ground. A French livre. Maelice turned it over in her fingers a moment before she tossed it aside and picked up a small handful. She recognized stamps on each of the gold and silver coins from England, Aragon, Denmark, and of course German coins of the Empire.

Maelice tossed them aside, as she inspected a ring. A gold band with a large set ruby. Her hand brushed at a chalice. She was no expert but it did look to be of fine make. Something a noble would have. Something a bandit would want to fence off or melt down.

"Mammon, prince of Greed," Maelice muttered to herself as she rose looking about the circle once more. A gust of wind carried through the trees, and a whisper burrowed in Maelice's mind.

"Did you like the taste?"

Images from the nightmares seeped through her mind. More whispers followed on the breeze as bare skin and ghosting fingers snapped to torn flesh and glistening bone.

Gritting her teeth, Maelice reached once more into her pouch as wind swirled around her. Whispers cast at her, and wormed into her ears.

"Sinner, harlot, glutton."

Pulling the flask of holy water from the pouch, Maelice used her thumb to open the cap.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me," she said as she upended the flash and dribbled the waters along the steel of her blade. It mixed and swirled with the blood smeared along its length.

"The mother knows your Sins, yet she welcomes you anyway. Foul creature she is," the whispers continued, becoming more focused, a singular voice starting to emerge from them.

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over," Maelice incanted from Psalm 23 as she tilted her head back and dribbled water upon her forehead. With her thumb she closed the cap once more, and slid the flask back in her satchel.

"She hides secrets from you. Lays them in plain sight in her abbey of lies and corruption," just a single voice was clearly heard now, thin and whispy, the rest still a buzz at her ears, though they scratched and clawed to get into her mind.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever," Maelice said, and turned as she felt the hairs on her neck stand on end.

Before her, mists coalesced into a shape that was vaguely human even as the length of its limbs remained inconstant. Yellow eyes burned where its head seemed to be, though something like a mouth moved upon its chest when it began to speeak.

"Your prayers are a comfort alone. They will not banish me as your exorcists seem to believe. Do not fall pray to such petty vanity," the shape said to her as it floated just above the ground, though a second look showed clawed feet digging into the soil.

Maelice took a step back, and kept her sword between herself and the demon before her. The being laughed, the leaves rustled in the trees with it, even as its feet vanished once more. Maelice stared at this unholy foe, taking note of how far she'd diverted from the path.

"Silence? A shame. Such wicked thoughts in your head. You taste bile from your memories but you could not even bring yourself to deny the question. Or perhaps it was an accusation," the demon said, the lidless eyes seeming to twist and curve in some kind of amusement.

"Your words are poisons as are your tricks of the mind. I have no disillusions of what I am, but I will find Christ's forgiveness," Maelice said and took another careful step back. Her heel knocked a chalice, but the creature's eyes did not leave her.

"You are so assured of yourself in that. As if it is fact and not merely belief. Your faith is poison to your own ambitions. To your own happiness," the demon said, shifting slightly, the shadows following it like fluttering banners.

"You know very little of faith I am sure. What brings you here? To steal souls?" Maelice asked of it, and the creature laughed again.

"I know more of religion than you might think little nun. But you are not wholly wrong. I crave souls," the demon hissed, a shadowy arm swiping towards the warrior. Maelice stepped back, seeing great claws growing from the fluttering cuff that should have been a hand.

A swipe of her sword upwards cut into the shadow with a hiss. A thick foul smelling sludge, black as pitch, fell from the wound in lumps and splattered on the ground. The demon recoiled, and the whispers assaulted Maelice's ears.

But she had seen it bleed. She steeled herself, ready to strike, but the demon just laughed.

"A foolish choice I will admit. One should never underestimate their opponent. But you give me such mundane villainy. No, I do not steal. I crave, I deserve what is rightfully mine, but I will not steal," the demon said, swirling across the ground, a few more lumps of its ichor falling from the wound. "No it is far more delicious for you to give, of your own free will."

"Then you are slithering up the wrong tree serpent," Maelice said, as moved carefully towards the path that led back to the road, felt the ground beneath her boots with each step to ensure she did not trip.

"Again you display such revolting lack of understanding, for one who claims to know so much. I am not some pawn of Lucifer or Lilith with their snake pets. I deal with truths, for truth is far more destabilizing than falsehoods," the demon said, and Maelice frowned as the demon spun to face her once more. It realized she had no intention to speak, so simply continued.

"So many faiths, and holy books, and dogmas. They cannot all be true, though each of you claim it is such. However, how will their society crumble, when those who lie find that they were manipulated and coerced into buildings empires for rich men," the demon said and laughed. "You are a pawn in the games of rich men pretending they are more important than you. To some it is because you were born in a village, to some it is because you simply lack a cock."

The words stung, and struck a chord that Maelice had been toying with the night before. She remembered Emilie's words of vanity and bitterness.

"I will not give you my soul," Maelice said and the demon moved close again, but paused as Maelice steadied the blade, aiming it towards the beast's chest.

"Not yet you won't. Not until after you've returned back to that abbey and discovered why me and my ilk cannot enter your hallowed grounds. It is not faith that pushes us back, but it waxes and wanes in those halls worse than the moon. Have you wondered what secrets your Mother Superior holds from you? Why do nuns visit the room of a patient without food or water and call her mistress?" the demon said, and Maelice frowned. The demon almost grinned at her, a row of glinting fangs spreading across its stomach before they faded again.

"I know what you seek. To poison my faith in the Mother Superior, in the church. Do not think you will be succesful," Maelice said, stepping forward.

"Poison your faith in the church? Why I couldn't succeed there, when it is already little more than dust and cobwebs. No, as I said I deal in truths. The truth is that your Abbess simply takes what she desires. Snatches it for herself," the demon said, what should have been a foot snatching out, only for the demon to be holding out one of the chalice's in a clawed hand "You could as well, and still pray to Jehovah. Like so many men of the cloth, or those who wear crowns."

"Do not utter that name. It is not for you," Maelice said, and a grin spread across the demon's shoulder.

"Why ever not? You folk do no use it, in your eternal quest to proclaim there is only a singular God. You have not seen beyond the veil and understand so little, even as you help to fabricate what lays beyond," the demon said.

"What nonsense do you speak?" Maelice demanded, as she took a step forward. The demon surged upwards, loomed above Maelice at it stared down at her with hungry eyes. It's lower half little more than wispy trails of mist and ragged threads of inky shadow.

"Those are not my secrets to give... yet. I would only give those to friends, and you have let me know in no uncertain terms that we are not. But... perhaps my lord would be interested in telling you. All you need to do, is discover the secrets in that Abbey. Your faith will do the rest," the demon said, and extended an almost human looking hand, like a merchant to shake upon a deal.

Maelice looked at it. Offered in peace, with answers she sought. She watched mists rising from the hand, fading upwards to be lost among the demon's bulk. Maelice lowered her sword a moment and looked up. The demon smiled at her still.

The swing cut through the hand, and the demon's foul blood splashed across Maelice's habit. She followed through, the tip of her blade cutting where the throat should have been. More of its blood gushed outwards, the stench making Maelice retch as the beast pulled away. It cackled at her, black blood dripping in long strings to the ground.

"Fire. She has fire. But I am not so easily slain. Flee little nun... should you make it back alive, the offer still stands," the demon said, and shot away into the forest like a flag tossed in high winds.

The whispers returned, but now Maelice could hear his voice among them. There were three of them, they taunted her, poked at her sins. They grasped and pulled, revealed each one anew to the light. To the eyes of God and reality of her consciousness. Her lust, the killing. Safina with her soft lips, and her final screams.

Maelice stumbled back, before movement caught her eyes. One hand on her sword she looked into the woods, and saw something moving on all fours. Human like, but with wide yellow eyes, and a too large mouth. Hunched and sickly skinned they scuttled through the forest's undergrowth, watching her all the while from behind greasy strings of hair as long strings of drool fell from their fanged maws. She had seen these monsters before. In the Holy Lands.

Ghouls.

Maelice turned and ran. She cared not for stealth anymore, dirt and fallen leaves kicked up by her boots while sticks snapped in the forest around her as the horde of ghouls stalked her. Shards of bark fell from above as the beasts scrambled through the trees, and leapt branch to branch.

"No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed," Maelice started to pray from the Book of Isaiah and ducked beneath a low hanging branch as she continued her flight through the forest. Fear slithered up into her heart while the whispers continued to rake at her brain.

"And you will refu-" Maelice shouted as a body slammed into her side. She held tight to her sword as she hit the ground, and rolled to quickly get back to her feet.

She rotated her shoulder, and turned to see her attacker recovered from the impact. The ghoul looked up at her, maw wide as long trails of its drool fell to the ground. Crouched low, it scurried forward on all fours, then leapt.

Maelice dodged to the side and brought her sword down. Flesh hissed as foul blood spurted from the wound, the demon's arm sheared off below the elbow. The creature hit the grass and rolled until it hit a tree and groaned in pain. Maelice did not let herself stop, running to the beast and slashing across its face. She heard the crack of bone as steel split the monsters skull and sprayed blood up the tree.

A quick glance over her shoulder showed Maelice another of the ghouls picking up the severed hand with triumph, before it shoved the limb in a sack with a stained patch across the bottom.

"You have pretty hands. I will take them for my collection," the ghoul said with a whispering whine of a voice as it shook its bag and drew a rusted blade from the corded belt around its waist.

Maelice turned from the monster, her flight started again. A branch scraped across her cheek, tugged at the edge of her wimple, but she kept running. The pursuit did not stop, and Maelice felt a rock hit her shoulder. She stumbled from the impact but kept her footing. More rocks sailed past her, cracking against tress and thumping into the ground.

One struck her head, and Maelice winced despite the mail. Another hit the back of her knee and Maelice stumbled again. Catching herself on one knee, a spear flew overhead. The point jammed into the ground and Maelice surged for it.