The Church and the Devils – Prologue

Every few steps the old man would stumble and say a name out loud. Although he never looked away from the old woman walking several paces ahead, it was clear that all the surrounding woodland was meant to hear his voice. This was how Andred remembered. His stumbles were not only caused by the weakness of the dawn light or the soreness of his smoke-reddened eyes – they were also part of ritual, a continuation of the ones he had just performed deeper in the woods. Each stumble would jolt his memory. He said each name aloud so that its owner would hear, know he had not been forgotten, and remain peaceful.
Andred was proud that he could remember. It showed that his mind, like his body, was still as strong as it had been when he was young. It also meant that the protection of the village rested wholly in his hands. He was the one who stopped forgotten spirits taking revenge on his kinsmen. Erderinca, his wife, couldn’t have done this. Her memory was slipping now she was old, and often he had to remind her of the names of her own cousins. He stumbled again, and let out another name. He was getting toward the end of the recital.
Ahead of him, Erderinca was already waiting in the clearing. She had turned back to face him and was watching. Once they were on the other side of the clearing, he would be too close to the village. No one who overheard this protective rite would be grateful to him. He stopped and said the last four names slowly, one after the other. Each name had to be given the right amount of importance.
Now it was done, the air seemed warmer and the birdsong less frantic. The forest was pleased. He came close to Erderinca, and she smiled as he emerged into the sun’s first rays. His hand rested briefly on her arm. Then they turned toward the two paths that forked off, back under the trees where it was still gloomy. Erderinca would take one path and, after a few moments, he would take the other. If one of them were seen by some early rising villager, the other would not be, and there’d be fewer questions asked.
Erderinca walked slowly out of the clearing, the shape of her dress becoming indistinct against the undergrowth. Andred waited. Relieved of its duty to remember, his mind wandered to the welcome thought of rest in his hut and the meal he would share with his wife. He didn’t hear the running steps behind him.
The pain slashed deep into his back, wrenched round and tore him. Then the blade was yanked roughly out. He felt his blood rushing out, hot against the lips of the wound. All the inside of his body was pouring out into the dawn air, a river of agony. Andred fell to his knees. He looked up to see what had done this to him, but saw only Erderinca, who had come back for him. She stared in horror. He raised his arms to wave her back, to go and save herself, but all he could do was twitch his wrists. His eyes rolled and he fell backwards into his blood.