Concentrate. Breathe slowly, if it helps. There's the light of your faith inside you. Draw it out.
Cecelia stood with her eyes shut tight. The more she practiced, the more she could hold on to. At first it felt like the gentlest brush with something faintly warm, barely tangible. Lately she could hold the feeling for longer, maybe half a minute at most.
In dire situations, your faith can protect you. Prayer, little miss. It's truly powerful once you can grasp it.
She drew in a long slow breath and curled her fingers as if she held a stone. Gritting her teeth, she threw her arm forward. A white hot light scorched a small mark on a rock before her. She stared at it, momentarily triumphant, before crashing to her knees.
“That's not bad.” Brother Matthias walked up behind her, holding his pipe in his teeth. “I think you'll be a good priestess someday.”
Cecelia mumbled thanks. Whenever she called on the strength of her faith, it left her feeling light-headed, weak. But in order to hide that from Matthias she forced herself to stand walk back towards the caravan. The Jackdogs would move out soon, and she'd get an excuse to sit quietly until her headache went away.
“How long have you been a priest?”
They perched on the open bed of the wagon. Since the weather had been nothing but warm breezes, Shay rolled up the canvas flaps to air out the caravan. When things were calm, Cecelia found the view to be quite beautiful.
“Since I was a young man. I learned from my grandfather before he passed on.” Matthias placed a hand over his heart briefly.
“And did you always travel?” The girl waved hello to Shay, who ruffled her hair with a gloved hand as she stepped into the caravan and took her seat the reins. Dirk and Tarid jumped up onto the side, chatting about the finds for the day.
“Yes, though we settled from time to time. It's the nature of the Sainthood to move from place to place.” Matthias took one last puff of his pipe and knocked the contents out over the edge of the wagon. “You weren't always a traveler though. Don't strike me as one born on the road.”
Cecelia frowned and glanced away. “No. You're right about that.”
“Don't want to talk about it?” She shook her head. “Alright, then. What do you want to hear?”
The girl turned back tentatively, resting her chin on her hand. “Have anymore stories about your old caravans?”
“Alright...have I told you about the blizzard?”
“...blizzard?”
“When it snows a lot.” Cecelia shook her head, clearly puzzled. “Never seen snow before, I take it. Then listen, I'll try to do it justice...”
***
Gunshots and growling. She woke at the first shot, scrambling from her bed to the trick seat; what looked like a bench was actually crate set into the wall. Tarid had ordered her to duck into it several times in the past. “Zeds don't hunt what they can't see. Mostly.”
Cecelia unlatched and flung open the crate, then paused. Where was Brother Matthias? She'd never seen the priest touch a weapon before. Ducking low, she lifted the canvas to peek outside. There was Tarid, braining a shambler with his lead pipe. Shay picked off others with a gun. She knew that wherever he was, Dirk could defend himself with a pair of knives.
When she spotted Matthias, she had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from calling him. The priest calmly faced the horde. He held his arms out, palms open. His lips moved but Cecelia could not make out words. Then, a blinding light pierced the head of the leading zed. It crumpled like a child's doll while the other members of the horde stumbled over it. Brother Matthias pointed at each one, and each time a shaft of light burned into their skulls.
“Everyone alright? Is Cecelia inside?”
Tarid jumped up onto the front of the caravan, startling her into dropping the heavy canvas on her hand. “Yeah, she's fine.” He shook bits of flesh and bone of his pipe and leaned it against the wall.
“That's disgusting,” Shay said, her distaste evident in her eyes. “Wipe it off, at least. How are you, kiddo?”
“I'm fine.” The rover and the priest were moving the bodies out of the road. Shamblers were the easiest kind of zed to kill, Tarid had told her. Scary, but as long as she wasn't alone, she'd be fine. “Did you see what Brother Matthias did?”
“Yeah. Good fighter for a holy man,” Tarid cut in.
“He taught me to do that too, Shay. But I...uh, it's just not as impressive when I do it.”
The retrograde let Cecelia fix her bandana in place before petting her head. “Someday soon, though.”
Beyond the morning horde, the rest of the day passed uneventfully. Around late afternoon, Shay drive the caravan off the main road, toward a small settlement. Brother Matthias nodded to her and picked up his back.
“Little miss, I'm afraid this is my stop.”
“But...there must be more to learn.”
“That’s correct. I'm sure you'll find out everything you need to know in time. I've given you a head start, at the least.” He handed her a small cloth bag stuffed with sweets with a smile and a handshake. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I trust that the Lord will guide you where you need to go.” He and Shay nodded to each other before he turned and walked towards the town.
Cecelia settled on the bench, frowning as moody teenagers are wont to do. For a few minutes the Jackdog caravan was tensely quiet. Tarid broke the silence with a long sigh.
“Don't know about y'all but holy fuck does it feel good to cuss again.”
Cecelia stood with her eyes shut tight. The more she practiced, the more she could hold on to. At first it felt like the gentlest brush with something faintly warm, barely tangible. Lately she could hold the feeling for longer, maybe half a minute at most.
In dire situations, your faith can protect you. Prayer, little miss. It's truly powerful once you can grasp it.
She drew in a long slow breath and curled her fingers as if she held a stone. Gritting her teeth, she threw her arm forward. A white hot light scorched a small mark on a rock before her. She stared at it, momentarily triumphant, before crashing to her knees.
“That's not bad.” Brother Matthias walked up behind her, holding his pipe in his teeth. “I think you'll be a good priestess someday.”
Cecelia mumbled thanks. Whenever she called on the strength of her faith, it left her feeling light-headed, weak. But in order to hide that from Matthias she forced herself to stand walk back towards the caravan. The Jackdogs would move out soon, and she'd get an excuse to sit quietly until her headache went away.
“How long have you been a priest?”
They perched on the open bed of the wagon. Since the weather had been nothing but warm breezes, Shay rolled up the canvas flaps to air out the caravan. When things were calm, Cecelia found the view to be quite beautiful.
“Since I was a young man. I learned from my grandfather before he passed on.” Matthias placed a hand over his heart briefly.
“And did you always travel?” The girl waved hello to Shay, who ruffled her hair with a gloved hand as she stepped into the caravan and took her seat the reins. Dirk and Tarid jumped up onto the side, chatting about the finds for the day.
“Yes, though we settled from time to time. It's the nature of the Sainthood to move from place to place.” Matthias took one last puff of his pipe and knocked the contents out over the edge of the wagon. “You weren't always a traveler though. Don't strike me as one born on the road.”
Cecelia frowned and glanced away. “No. You're right about that.”
“Don't want to talk about it?” She shook her head. “Alright, then. What do you want to hear?”
The girl turned back tentatively, resting her chin on her hand. “Have anymore stories about your old caravans?”
“Alright...have I told you about the blizzard?”
“...blizzard?”
“When it snows a lot.” Cecelia shook her head, clearly puzzled. “Never seen snow before, I take it. Then listen, I'll try to do it justice...”
***
Gunshots and growling. She woke at the first shot, scrambling from her bed to the trick seat; what looked like a bench was actually crate set into the wall. Tarid had ordered her to duck into it several times in the past. “Zeds don't hunt what they can't see. Mostly.”
Cecelia unlatched and flung open the crate, then paused. Where was Brother Matthias? She'd never seen the priest touch a weapon before. Ducking low, she lifted the canvas to peek outside. There was Tarid, braining a shambler with his lead pipe. Shay picked off others with a gun. She knew that wherever he was, Dirk could defend himself with a pair of knives.
When she spotted Matthias, she had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from calling him. The priest calmly faced the horde. He held his arms out, palms open. His lips moved but Cecelia could not make out words. Then, a blinding light pierced the head of the leading zed. It crumpled like a child's doll while the other members of the horde stumbled over it. Brother Matthias pointed at each one, and each time a shaft of light burned into their skulls.
“Everyone alright? Is Cecelia inside?”
Tarid jumped up onto the front of the caravan, startling her into dropping the heavy canvas on her hand. “Yeah, she's fine.” He shook bits of flesh and bone of his pipe and leaned it against the wall.
“That's disgusting,” Shay said, her distaste evident in her eyes. “Wipe it off, at least. How are you, kiddo?”
“I'm fine.” The rover and the priest were moving the bodies out of the road. Shamblers were the easiest kind of zed to kill, Tarid had told her. Scary, but as long as she wasn't alone, she'd be fine. “Did you see what Brother Matthias did?”
“Yeah. Good fighter for a holy man,” Tarid cut in.
“He taught me to do that too, Shay. But I...uh, it's just not as impressive when I do it.”
The retrograde let Cecelia fix her bandana in place before petting her head. “Someday soon, though.”
Beyond the morning horde, the rest of the day passed uneventfully. Around late afternoon, Shay drive the caravan off the main road, toward a small settlement. Brother Matthias nodded to her and picked up his back.
“Little miss, I'm afraid this is my stop.”
“But...there must be more to learn.”
“That’s correct. I'm sure you'll find out everything you need to know in time. I've given you a head start, at the least.” He handed her a small cloth bag stuffed with sweets with a smile and a handshake. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I trust that the Lord will guide you where you need to go.” He and Shay nodded to each other before he turned and walked towards the town.
Cecelia settled on the bench, frowning as moody teenagers are wont to do. For a few minutes the Jackdog caravan was tensely quiet. Tarid broke the silence with a long sigh.
“Don't know about y'all but holy fuck does it feel good to cuss again.”