Black Cross by J.P. Ashman

Author:J.P. Ashman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult
Publisher: J P Ashman
Published: 2015-01-09T23:00:00+00:00

***

The small chapel stood on the edge of Hinton. It had a spire no taller than a large oak tree and a small bell that hardly ever rang. As the trio of black-clad men crossed the golden field of rape seed, heading towards the iron studded door of the chapel, its small bell rang in what could have been misconstrued as a warning signal. It was in fact a coincidence that the approach of the men had coincided with the marriage of a young couple.

The groom’s father, a local farmer called Mickel, stood proud as his son took the hand of a beautiful young woman from Hinton. He'd known the girl’s father all his life and it pleased him to know her family was well liked in the village.

It was annoying then, when the small chapel’s door swung open and a tall, hard looking man removing a wide brimmed hat strode into the ceremony unannounced. The bride and groom turned as the stranger sat on a stool at the back of the chapel and waved them on, as if it was he, not the bride-to-be’s father that was giving her away.

Mickel turned back to the front and pushed it from his mind, happy again to see the frail old priest bless his son and new daughter. The ceremony ended with a cheer from the gathering, and two small children ran giggling down the aisle, throwing bluebell heads as the newly married couple strode down the aisle after them, their faces beaming at all who'd witnessed their joining.

Horler Comlay stood, bowed and smiled, although the expression was not obvious, appearing more as a grimace than a smile. The bride curtseyed to the stranger and the groom offered a quick bow as they passed, their postures tensing slightly as they saw the Witchunter General’s rapier at his side. Both of their fathers nodded as they passed, their faces set like stone. The rest of the guests hurried after them, out into the sunlight and away from the chapel as fast as they dared without looking suspicious to the two witchunters who stood outside the arched doorway.

Horler walked casually up the aisle towards the old priest. ‘Good day, Father..?’

‘Farrely. Good day to you too,’ the priest greeted, his arms open wide to welcome a brother Samorlian.

The two embraced, although Horler had to bend almost double. The old priest beckoned for the Witchunter General to follow him through a small door into a back room. Upon entering, Horler was amused to see how fast the elderly man had crossed the room and collected two goblets, and was even now reaching for a dusty bottle.

‘Would you care for some elderflower wine, General?’ Father Farrely asked, and Horler was even more surprised his rank had been so obvious to the little man. He could easily have been a normal witchunter; he wore no symbol to advertise otherwise, yet the priest, who was pouring the wine into both goblets before Horler could accept or decline, had noted it with ease.

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