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SYNOPSIS: The ambitious monk Manheim and the callow novice Julian are unlikely traveling companions. Both would consider the circumstances surrounding their journey mere bad luck—yet, one way or another, they have been charged with a single, important mission: Find the Blackpage!
Twenty years after Manheim’s rival monk, Byron—now called The Blackpage—was exiled from the Order of Authors, this adventuring party will face dangers in the mysterious wilds of Daranna. Yet, all agree that nothing they could encounter is more dangerous than the man they hope to find…
INDEX | Chapter 1 | <Previous (Chapter 0) | Next (Chapter 2)>
Repent
The old abbot’s eyes were black, a faint pulse beat weakly against his taut, ghostly skin. Novice Julian returned the cloth to the basin of water, kept warm by the fading embers in the fireplace. The pale moon cast a thin light through the stone window, making Abbot Targand appear rather like a ghost himself.
Julian tried not to think about death. It was hard not to, in the presence of a dying man. Anything would be happier to think of than Abbot Targands corpse-like repose. Today was supposed to have been a day of recreation, but he and the other novices drew lots on such days for who would have to care for the dying old man. Today the lot fell to Julian.
In addition to not thinking about the dying man, he tried not to think about what his friend Henri would tell him when Julian returned to the novice quarters. They probably went to the quarry again, to swim and tell increasingly incredulous stories about Byron the Blackpage.
The Blackpage—the most gifted of the Order of Authors, the man they hunted up and down Daranna for three whole years and never found, the man who single handedly stopped and stymied not one, not two, but five companies sent out to find him. The man whom Targand had exiled, in a faraway time before Julian had even been born—it might as well be myth or legend.
They said the Blackpage had discovered some secret to his world which he refused to share. Others said he had killed a man in cold blood. Julian spent a lot of time not thinking about those accusations. The Blackpage was an Author. And everyone seemed to agree he had been the best Author. He had joined the Order of Authors from Julian’s own homeland in the Southern Kingdom. Following in Byron’s footsteps had been Julian’s lifelong dream! Though—it seemed unlikely Byron wasted all his time soaking corpses…
There was a gentle rap on the wooden door of Abbot Targand’s room, followed by a gentle push and the creaking groan as the heavy wooden door swung open. The brazier in the hallway cast a stark silhouette over the figure of Brother Superior Manheim.
“Has he said anything?” Manheim said, by way of greeting.
“No, superior,” Julian replied.
Manheim responded by striding towards the bed, interposing himself between the hand Julian was washing and the old abbot, as if he wanted to say something to the abbot without Julian hearing.
Julian shrugged, and tried to return to all the things he was not thinking about. Manheim had been a frequent, fretful presence when Targand took ill. It seemed to Julian that grief does crazy things to people. Manheim had been a contemporary of the Blackpage—some said he had met the man. Neither Manheim nor Targand ever talked about—
Abbot Targand gasped, and sat bolt-upright, grabbing Julian’s arm in a cold, firm grip. Julian recoiled, and tripped to the ground—the old man never let go.
“I was wrong! I was wrong! I repent of my sin and folly! Forgive me!”
Julian lay on the ground, his arm raised up by Targand’s iron grip; Manheim leaned over him, “Abbot!” Manheim exclaimed, “Abbot, it’s me, Manheim!”
“Paper! Get paper!” Targand’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“No need, abbot. Tell me. Tell me! What do you need to tell me?”
Julian was frozen in place. Targand, evidently giving up on the demand for paper, sank back into his pillow, and continued.
“Brother Byron…forgive me!”
“Abbot, he was a murderer, you have nothing to forgive.”
“Not so! Find…find him…offer my pardon; beg for his. Find the Blackpage! Tell him…I was wrong!”
“Abbot, enough about that scoundrel, we can worry about him later. Who should succeed you?” Manheim’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”
“Abbot!”
“I…repent…”
“Say my name, abbot! Name me!” He put both hands on the abbots shoulder in desperation.
A rasping, final breath escaped Abbot Targand, and his grip finally slackened on Julian’s arm. Superior Manheim slumped over the old man, and wept dryly.
Julian remained frozen in place at what he had witnessed. The death of the abbot, the exile recanted, the charge to find Byron. What was all this? Why was the superior wrong? He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. He wanted to wait for Manheim to move. He wanted to be gone before anyone noticed him. He could feel his heart drumming vainly against his chest.
Superior Manheim ceased to weep, and collected himself. Julian watched a calm come over him as he stood slowly.
He stared down his nose at Julian, still crouching on the floor. “You heard him, didn’t you? You heard him name me?”
“What? No—that’s—” Julian stammered, bewildered.
“You heard him. Plain as I’m speaking to you now.”
Julian began to doubt himself—the dramatic last-gasp had been so fast and so sudden, who could say? Maybe Targand had indeed named Manheim and he just hadn’t heard? “I…I don’t know—”
“You need to be sure. You need to be sure!” Manheim balled his fists.
“Yes, I’m sure, sure.” Julian just wanted to leave.
Manheim let out a breath. “Go, now. Fetch the doctor. Quickly!”
Julian scrambled to his feet, and ran out of the room, more confused than when he had entered.
The abbot’s words echoed in his mind as he raced down the stony halls of the monastery: Find the Blackpage!
To be continued…
Thank you very much for reading! This is Find The Blackpage, a fantasy adventure serial set in the world of Daranna. This will be a serial publishing every week, for a tentative total of twelve episodes. Please subscribe to be sure you don’t miss an installment sent directly to your inbox!
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God bless!
AJPM
I sure hope the order has a good Canonist Head Interpreter of Precedent on hand to guide the monastery through this trying time, in case Julian should change his mind about whether he heard Manheim named as successor.
Yes, he'd be the CHIP Monk. :D
A perfect and intriguing set-up to a fantasy-mystery!
Looking forward to watching this one unfold!! 📖