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How?
The questions burned in Owain s mind, and as he pondered the various riddles,
his eyelids grew gradually heavier and heavier. How quickly the night had
passed, he thought, for the call of the rising sun already to be summoning him
to slum-
ber. The night, however, had not passed. Darkness still blanketed the
countryside beyond the window and was not nearly ready to surrender its
domain.
Upon the tor, the tower stood monolithic in the moonlight.
Owain s eyes fluttered. They could not have been closed for more than a few
seconds.
Strange, he thought, that I should feel so tired when sunrise is still hours
away.
He turned his attention back to Joseph, who had been speaking to him.
 You seek the grail as proof that God exists? the old man asked. His dark
beard was cut short, trimmed neatly close to his jaw, which jutted slightly as
if throwing forth the question as a chal-
lenge.
 No, said Owain.  I know He exists. I know only too well. He rose to his
feet from where he had
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sat cross-legged on the ground. The grassy hillside was empty except for the
two men.  For years I
have heard His voice. Joseph cocked his head, in-
terested by the notion.  Yes, said Owain.
 Whenever I pass a babbling brook, or when I hear the roar of a waterfall, I
hear His laughter. He laughs at my pain, at my loss. When I hear the shriveled
leaves of fall rustling along the breeze of their final journey, I hear Him
mocking the sor-
rows that He has heaped upon me!
Joseph s face saddened. He leaned heavily upon his staff.  Then why, Owain?
Why have you come seeking the sangrail? Do you wish to make of it a mockery?
Owain s cruel laugh rolled over the hillside.  I
would hold in my hand that most holy vessel, the chalice that held the blood
of the Christ. Not be-
cause I discount the power of the relic. Far from it.
I, more than most, believe in the power, and the glory, and the life
everlasting. Owain stepped closer to Joseph.  I may be the most devout Chris-
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tian you have ever met.
Owain turned away from the old man and could see to the east the lone tower,
the chapel to St.
Michael.  I would hold the grail because it is the symbol of that which our
God holds most dear
his beloved Son. I would hold the grail so that I
might crush it in my own hands, so that I might obliterate that vestige of God
and the Christ on
233
Dark Prophecy earth. Owain turned around and, again, stepped closer to the
old man.  And you, Joseph, will tell me where it is if you value your life,
and you would not have lived so long if you did not.
Joseph did not retreat before Owain but held his ground.  I have lived quite
some time, said the old man.  It is true. But I am not like you. The curse of
Caine does not stain my forehead. I do not live in fear. I do not fear you.
His blue-gray eyes presented an open challenge to Owain.  I am not here out of
fear but out of hope. Though the curse is upon you, it is not too late for you
or your kind.
 Hope?
Owain scoffed at Joseph s words.  You are a man of God, but do not tell me
that you are a man of hope. I, as an infant, saw hope pass out of this world
with my mother s soul. As a man, I saw hope die as my brother married the
woman I loved. Then, I felt hope flee my body as a monstrous beast took hold
of me and made me his forever. I saw dying hope in the eyes of my decrepit
brother before I
snapped his neck. I saw hope die as I sent my nephew to his death. I watched
hope die as I turned my back on my homeland. Owain, as his fury mounted, had
moved closer to Joseph until their faces were only inches apart.  Do you dare
claim to offer me hope?
Still, Joseph held his ground.  I do. A low growl began to form in Owain s
throat.  I offer hope. I
offer you the hope of God the Father s eternal love.
I offer 
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His words were cut short as Owain grabbed away the staff. With a roar of pure
outrage, Owain swung the shaft. It caught Joseph across the side of the face,
and the old man, his cheek and jaw shattered, crumpled to the ground.
Owain stood over the bloodied figure.  You of-
fer me hope so that your God can snatch it from me yet again! Owain raised
the staff high above his head and brought it down, not with the arch-
ing swing of a cudgel, but with the stabbing motion of a spear. The staff,
though not carved to a point, struck with such force that its tip plunged into
and through Joseph s chest and dug nearly a foot into the ground.
The old man did not cry out. His left eye was already obscured by swelling and
shunted-aside bone from the first blow, but his right eye stared wide at Owain
standing above him. Joseph would tell Owain nothing else about the grail, but
Owain was too rabidly in the throes of frenzy to care. He dropped onto the
impaled figure and sank his fangs into Joseph s neck.
As Owain fed, the body began to wither and draw up beneath him, while above,
the staff underwent a miraculous transformation. Driven into the ground
through Joseph s broken body, numerous shoots be-
gan to separate from the wooden shaft. Roots formed and bore down into the
earth. Branches reached in every direction toward the heavens.
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235
Dark Prophecy
As Owain tasted the last of ancient blood, Joseph s body completely crumbled
to dust, lying in a pile at the foot of what had been the old man s staff, but
now was a full-grown hawthorn tree.
Owain watched buds come forth within seconds and open into leaves. Blossoms
also flowered, opened wide, then rained down a sprinkle of red and white
petals on him.
Suddenly the very ground quivered and Owain, trying to stand, was knocked from
his feet. Atop the tor across the way, the tower to St. Michael trembled
violently. Bricks broke free from its high-
est reaches, and then the crowning statue of
Michael tumbled to the ground as well. Owain watched as it tumbled, as if in
slow motion, head over heels an archangel taken to flight and then was dashed
to pieces on the ground.
Then the wind swept in from nowhere and churned into the air the ashes that
had been Jo-
seph. Owain, half-blinded by the silty wind, heard and felt more than saw as
the chapel tower col-
lapsed in upon itself. From the village and the abbey, he could hear cries of
panic as the earth rocked and shook.
One voice, coming from closer by than the rest, stood out above the chaos.
 The Kinslayer has killed the keeper of the grail!
Owain looked down at the shallow bowl on the table before him. The image of
the collapsing tower
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was fading away into the expanding circlets of ripples. The sounds of
destruction and the fury rushing through his veins were fading as well. That
fateful night gave way to the present. Owain looked up and saw Isabella and
Montrovant watching him from across the table. Kendall stood behind them by [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]