Page 7 of Fallen
The Great Silence was actually Coira’s favorite time of day. And usually at this hour, she was happy to rest upon her sleeping pallet—but not this evening. Returning briefly to her tiny cell in the building next to the dormitories, Coira retrieved her quarter-staff—a six-foot stave fashioned of ash with pointed iron tips.
This was her weapon of choice.
Upon arriving at the abbey, it hadn’t taken Coira long to realize that all wasn’t as it seemed. Aye, the abbess was a pious woman who took her service to God very seriously, and expected the nuns to do the same, but she was also an enigma. Like Coira, she appeared a woman who kept secrets.
Even so, Mother Shona had revealed some of her past to the nuns. Over the years Coira discovered that the abbess had once been a novice in a convent in Lismore upon the mainland. One summer, brigands attacked the convent, raping and slaughtering any nuns they found there before burning it to the ground. Shona had been spared that day, for she’d been out collecting herbs when the attack had taken place. Terrified, she’d fled into the forest, and had been on the verge of starving when a group of outlaws found her and took her into their fold.
Coira wasn’t sure what had happened afterward, for this was the part where the abbess had been vague, but it appeared that the outlaws had taught the young nun how to defend herself. Eventually, she’d left the band and traveled to the Isle of Skye, where she’d entered Kilbride Abbey. Years later, when she was elected as abbess, Mother Shona had determined that the nuns under her care would always be able to defend themselves, and had set about teaching them all skills that were highly unusual for a nun—abilities that she’d kept secret from her fellow sisters for years.
Over the years, Coira had learned to fire a bow and arrow, throw a knife, handle herself with a sword, and defend herself with her hands if the need arose.
But wielding the quarter-staff—a weapon that could be as dangerous as a sword—was the skill she’d focused on. Coira carried it with her whenever she left Kilbride’s walls, which was often because she needed to collect particular healing herbs in the woods, and attend the sick and injured beyond. To the folk beyond here, it looked as if she carried a staff to help her walk upon the uneven terrain, but the Sisters of Kilbride knew differently.
Coira was lethal with a quarter-staff.
She walked to the wide yard before the shadow of the kirk now and stood for a few moments, legs planted hip-width apart as she centered herself.
Around her, it felt as if the mist had closed in further still. The oil lamp that Coira had brought, and placed down on the ground a few yards behind her, only illuminated a limited space. She couldn’t even see the surrounding walls of the abbey. It mattered not though; she could still practice, even in the fog.
Swinging the quarter-staff around in an arc, Coira started through a series of drills. She could have done them in her sleep, for they were movements that she taught all the young nuns who’d entered the abbey after her. These days, she and Mother Shona shared the duty of training the others.
The wooden stave whistled and swooshed through the air as she spun it around. She shifted stance then, holding the staff two-handed—attacking, feinting, and parrying, as if an opponent stood before her.
She went through the drills, again and again, her mind completely focused. For a short while, the rest of the world receded. Her past ceased to exist, and all the problems that had plagued the abbey of late disappeared as well. She’d lost two friends recently, both of whom had been very dear to her. Coira knew that a woman who dedicated herself to serving Christ shouldn’t cling on to earthly relationships, but she’d been very close to Sisters Ella and Leanna.
Fortunately, both women were still alive. However, due to extreme circumstances, they’d left the abbey for new lives. And although Coira kept herself busy at Kilbride, she sometimes felt an ache in her chest whenever she thought of Ella and Leanna. Without them here, she sometimes felt very alone.
Finally, the sweat pouring down her face and back, Coira finished her practice. She was breathing hard, yet the tension had now eased from her neck and shoulders, and the muscles felt loose.
I needed that, she thought as she turned, retrieved her oil lamp, and headed toward the nun’s quarters. Yet halfway there, she halted. She’d intended to return to her cell, where she’d retire for the evening. But something prevented her.
Instead, she turned and made her way around the back of the complex, to where the infirmary stood, shrouded in mist.
Her patient would be alone.
She couldn’t leave him like that—not tonight. Not when his life hung by a thread.
With a heavy sigh, Coira entered the infirmary. It was dimly lit by the glow of the hearth at one end and a flickering oil lamp on the low table next to the only occupied bed.
Craeg the Bastard lay sprawled upon his back, his breathing deep and even as he slept. He wasn’t thrashing now, which could be a good or bad sign, depending on how his body was responding. Lamp aloft, Coira approached the sleeping pallet and peered down at his bandaged midriff. They’d removed his vest, leaving him naked from the waist up. Examining the bandage, she was pleased to see there hadn’t been much seepage—that there was no tell-tale yellow stain from pus. That was a positive sign.
Satisfied that she had done all she could for the moment, Coira set down her lamp and pulled up a high-backed wooden chair next to the bed. With a sigh, she sank down onto it and clasped her hands before her.
All she could do now was pray.
3
Just a Man
CRAEG AWOKE TO a dull throbbing pain in his side and a raging thirst.
He opened his eyes slowly, for although the room in which he lay was dimly lit, his eyes still stung from the candlelight.
For a few moments, his vision was cloudy and blurred, and then his surroundings sharpened into focus.
And the first thing he saw was an angel standing over him.
A woman with a face that looked as if it had been sculpted by the hand of the master: strong patrician features, and high cheekbones, with a full, beautifully drawn mouth. But the thing that really caught his attention was her eyes. They were an unusual color—violet—and framed by dark arched eyebrows. Truly, he’d never seen such beauty.
