CHAPTER 891: LAST RESORT (PART TWO)

"Blasphemers!" Holm shouted as he reached into the pockets of his holy vestments to retrieve a bottle of Blessed Oil, anointed by the High Priest in Lothian City himself. It was one of his most treasured possessions, and one that he used sparingly for the most important of ceremonies. Until the demons arrived, he had been planning to use it to bestow a blessing on Carwyn’s heir when the child was born, but now, he would use it to drive evil out of their village.

"All of you are heretics and blasphemers who consort with demons!" Holm cried as he pulled the stopper from the bottle, flinging his arm out and spraying Sir Carwyn, his wife, the demons, and everyone else who led the village with the sacred oil.

Holm knew that his faith was weak, but even a single spark should be enough to turn a few drops of blessed oil into a conflagration that would consume the demons and the corrupted leaders of the village. After all, the Blessed Oil contained a pure power that was far greater than his, and the bottle was still warm to the touch even in the depths of winter because of the blessing it contained. He just needed to pour all of his devotion into a single, heartfelt prayer...

"Holy Lord of Light and Flame,

I beseech you now in... guak! Hrrrrrrrk!"

Whatever words Holm had been preparing to say cut off in a strangled, wet gurgle as scaled coils thick as a man’s torso wrapped around his body. The sharp crack of ribs snapping echoed through the hall, followed by Holm’s desperate, wheezing gasps as air was crushed from his lungs.

The bottle that once held blessed oil shattered against the floor with a loud, crystalline crash, its spilling what little oil remained in a thin, glistening puddle that reflected the flickering flames of the nearby hearth as though it were a small pool of Holy Flames on the floor.

The instant Holm had thrown the oil, everyone he splashed began to move. Carwyn threw himself in front of Olwyna, shielding his pregnant wife with his body while Rhodri made a similar, if slightly slower move to protect his wife. Loftur was a heartbeat slower as he struggled to process what was happening, but seeing Carwyn and Rhodri moving to shield their loved ones, Loftur placed his considerable bulk between the raving acolyte and the aging purser, Dyfad, who seemed like the only remaining person sitting in the chairs who was unable to defend himself.

Only Barsali moved to strike instead of moving to defend, and when he moved, it was with a blinding speed that shocked everyone present. The villagers at the front of the room screamed in fear, and several of them stumbled over each other in the crowded great hall to put even a few more paces between themselves and the suddenly violent demon.

"P-p-p-please don’t kill me, I don’t want to die," a middle-aged cheesemaker wailed as he stumbled and fell on his backside, scooting back across the floor to escape the looming demon.

"Holy Lord of Light, bless me and keep me in the warmth of your light..." another man began to mutter as he dropped to his knees, clasping his hands and reciting a prayer he’d said countless times since he was a young boy visiting the temple with his parents. Though, whether he prayed now to drive the demon away or to use his last words as a plea to the Holy Lord of Light to be kind to him in his next life, even he couldn’t say.

Further back in the great hall, people were shoved up against the walls as the crowd rushed toward the doors that suddenly felt too narrow for anyone to escape through. Some people, especially the elderly among the villagers attending the gathering, had been knocked to the ground, and others were stopping to assist them, creating pockets where no one could move toward the doors, no matter how much they wanted to.

And then, there were a few people who responded to the threat of an attacking demon in an entirely different way. Men who snatched battered shields and treasured weapons off the walls, preparing to use weapons that had been carried by Sir Rhodri’s father and grandfather in order to fight back against demons once again.

"De-mon," Holm choked out as he struggled against the constricting grip of the serpentine demon’s powerful tail. He could feel his bones cracking, snapping, and piercing into his flesh and foamy, pinkish blood burbled from his lips as his eyes bulged and his whole face reddened under the intense, crushing pressure of the demon’s attack.

That pressure became a thousand times worse when the demon’s claws clamped down on the struggling acolyte’s head, squeezing his skull like an over-ripe piece of fruit about to burst before giving it a sudden, wrenching twist.

-SNAP-

The sharp, wet crack of vertebrae separating was audible even over the crowd’s screams. A sound like a thick branch snapping, followed by an awful, final silence as Holm’s struggles ceased.

The sound of his own neck breaking was the last thing that Holm ever heard as he realized too late that he’d provoked a monster with the power to crush a tiny acolyte with feeble faith without so much as drawing a weapon.

And yet, he thought as his eyes fell on the unwavering figure of Sir Carwyn, this simple knight who was half his age had survived a duel with this very demon... He’d been crushed alive and nearly torn limb from limb, but he lived to tell the tale... he came home a hero... it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

Holm had dedicated his entire life to making sure people followed the edicts of the Holy Lord of Light. He’d meted out punishments when people strayed from the path of the Light, and he always heaped praise and rewards on the most obedient, pious, and devout members of the village. His lifetime of service should have earned him the Holy Lord of Light’s favor and protection against demons. He should have basked in the warmth of the light.

Instead, he felt only a growing darkness as his vision faded and a deep, chilling cold. This wasn’t what he deserved at all. He deserved... deserved....

"Barsali!" Carwyn shouted in horror when he heard the sound of the acolyte’s neck snapping. Already, his people were beginning to panic, on the verge of trampling over each other to escape the dangerous demon who had just killed the man Carwyn only intended to exile.

Now, everything was starting to unravel, and he was at a loss for what to do about it.