Chapter 2

The Black Monastery

 

To be honest, Jerry was very afraid of this visit to the Black Monastery. Although, he rather liked the monk. Especially his admission of guilt. That thing and the fact that his stomach was stuffed with hearty breakfast, added a bit of confidence and encouragement, so he had decided to accept the monk's offer despite the bad rumors and gossip about the Black Monastery that circulated in the city. The monk warned him not to come too early and, Jerry had been waiting until the sun rose high enough, set out on his way. The Black Monastery was a well-known place in the region. Jerry had heard about it. The monastery belonged to some sect, supposedly, unrelated to the official religion. According to the rumors and accounts of random witnesses, horrifying rites were conducted at the monastery, and even human sacrifices were made to the devil, supposedly worshipped there. It was no surprise that Jerry, who had heard all those rumors, was afraid of them. His fear increased even more when he, having passed through a small grove located beyond the city's border, began to climb a hill behind which the massive building of gray stone was located. Darkened by time and therefore appearing black. Approaching the gates, he felt how wildly was beating his heart. Slowing down his pace with each passing minute, he was no longer walking, as accustomed, but rather crawling like a turtle. If it weren't for the promised payment, which was truly generous, he would have turned around immediately, but...

Finally, he approached the massive gates. Jerry; wiping his nose with his sleeve, sneezing, and taking a deep sigh, took the bronze hammer, hanging on a chain; struck the round plate with it. A muffled sound was heard, certainly not loud enough to be heard from the depths of the monastery. Nevertheless, the small door in the gates opened almost immediately, as if he was already expected on the other side. In the open doorway in the gates appeared a figure in the same clothing he had seen on the monk yesterday. But, unlike the first, this one was a young man slightly older than Jerry himself. A bit taller and sleek, thin-boned stature. The hood of his robe was thrown back, revealing a handsome face with smooth, Greek sculpture-like lines and straw-colored hair down to his shoulders. He looked at Jerry with an indifferent gaze of blue eyes, interrupted a ready-to-shoot-out monologue that Jerry had prepared beforehand and rehearsed all his way to the Monastery, and said: "You are Jerry from the city, came because Lutz wanted it. Don't strain your brain with explanations, Hedgeborn. I know everything about you without you telling me!"

Jerry, not having time to open his mouth, gulped and nodded. Although, he did not like the last word. Calling him a Hedgeborn wasn't a nice thing to start the day.

Upon entering, Jerry had been expecting to see something unusual and was slightly disappointed. The picture of the monastery courtyard looked quite peaceful: someone was leading sheep out of the outbuildings on the left, where the stables and the sheepfold were located; someone was getting water from the well and pouring it into a stone tank for livestock watering; on the cart with hay, the rooster was late, importantly flapping its red wings, trying to convince the chickens that he is the most important subject here.

The fear, that still weighed on Jerry, at the sight of this peaceful picture vanished completely. The domestic atmosphere of the courtyard so didn't coincide with the foolish rumors of the locals, clearly enjoying poking their noses into other people's business, that he felt how a stone in his heart finally gave a way. Jerry cheered up and followed after the handsome guy.

Inside the monastery, it was noticeably warmer and Jerry thought of the huge stoves that were heated at night to warm this place up.

At first, he tried to remember the way, but after the ninth or tenth turns, he got completely lost in the numerous corridors that looked similar.

After all, they stopped at one of the doors made of old, darkened oak, hardly inferior in the question of age to the monastery itself. His companion stood opposite the door for some time in a position with closed eyes, slightly moving his lips, as if talking to someone invisible behind the door. Then, he opened the door and they stepped in.

The monk, Jerry had met yesterday, was sitting at a large green stone table, polished to the smoothness of glass. On the table was a mass of interesting and unfamiliar to Jerry objects: a globe, chemical retorts, test tubes, and even a stuffed monkey with blood-red rubies instead of eyes in the sockets.

In addition, all four walls in the room, almost up to the ceiling, were filled with bookshelves. All were filled with volumes from black, red, and even yellow leather-bound books with copper and sometimes silver and golden clasps.

Jerry shifted his gaze from all this unheard-of wealth, he thought of the gold clasps, to the monk.

"Hello Jerry," the monk greeted him, in a voice not lesser tender than the voice of a mother greeting her son after a long separation. "I see you're not afraid of human gossip. You're a brave boy! I'm glad, I haven't been mistaken in your account!"

For Jerry, who had been never praised in his life, since the death of his parents, the praise was like a cool breeze in a hot summer. He gulped, and hesitated, blushing like a shrimp, not knowing what to say. The monk came to the rescue:

"How did Alvaro welcome you? Did he offend you?"

Jerry remembered the demeaning nickname that his blond guide had called him at the gate. For a moment he hesitated and, looking into the monk's eyes, which had a questioning expectation written on his face, or even encouragement; exactly the same as he had yesterday when he did provoke Jerry to break the window.

"No, sir monk. He said nothing to me."

The monk chuckled in a childlike manner:

"I see the lesson wasn't lost on you, Jerry! You are a quick learner, indeed. Remember this for the future: never throw a stone you won't be able to stop! The power lies in the control of the will. And only it! Remember! Now, go. Alvaro will show you what to do..."

The place, where Alvaro took him, seemed very strange to Jerry. The unusual thing was not the spacious monastic hall, which is commonly used in monasteries as a collective prayer room, but the very strange use of it. Half of the hall was occupied by a group of about twenty teenagers, about ten to eleven years old. They arranged themselves in a semicircle, sitting motionless on the mats, with gazes directed towards the center, where there was a small cage. The cage immediately attracted his attention because inside was put a real wolf cub.

The wolf cub was behaving strangely and rolling around on the floor of the cage for no apparent reason as if he was experiencing the pain of an unknown nature. Jerry felt sorry for the wolf cub and asked Alvaro, "What's wrong with him?" Alvaro sharply replied, "Shut up! And in general, remember three rules you should stick to, Hedgeborn. First: never ask any questions here. Second: never tell anyone in the outside world what you'll see here, or will see. And third: don't call Luke a monk. He doesn't like it and only tolerates it from Hedgeborned like you. Understand?" Jerry swallowed the secondary insult and nodded again.

"Now stop staring at them and look here," Alvaro said. Jerry obediently looked at the other end of the hall, where Alvaro was pointing. There, on the floor, with their arms spread out, were five disciples, slightly older than the first ones.

When Alvaro brought him closer, Jerry noticed about dozen circles drawn on the floor, inside of which the disciples were lying. Alvaro clapped his hands and shouted a command in a language unfamiliar to Jerry's ear, sounding somehow very sharp and strange as if tearing a thick fabric. The disciples got up and froze, arms crossed at their chests.

There was a low bench by the wall, on which Alvaro sat down Jerry, and ordered the disciples to sit inside their circles too.

"Watch," said Alvaro, and with those words pulled out of his pocket a handful of colored balls, the size of a walnut and smaller. Then he let the balls onto the floor and continued: "Listen carefully! I won't repeat it. You must sit here, in this place, and do nothing. Try not to touch the balls if you suddenly feel like wanting to do so. Try with all your will and might. I warn you, it won't be easy. If you manage, even once a week, not to touch them, then by the end of the week you'll receive your salary as promised."

The meaning of the "work", after such explanations, became even more incomprehensible to Jerry. But he didn't dare ask again, so just nodded with the words: "I understand," even though he understood nothing at all. "Really, why am I supposed to touch these stupid balls!" Jerry thought when Alvaro left the space. The disciples sat motionlessly within their circles, like stone statues silently staring at him. At first, that was disturbing and uncomfortable. He kept squirming, unable to find a place under these piercing glances, but gradually became accustomed and stopped paying attention. Besides, there was a lot of interesting stuff in the hall to watch.

The whine of the puppy stopped, which brought him unprecedented relief: he did not like when animals were tortured. When his parents were alive, he even fought a few times with neighbors' kids, fans of tormenting all sorts of crawling and flying creatures, they happened to catch. As he looked at the ceiling of the hall, which was painted with scenes from life, Jerry noticed a strange pattern, the circle on the floor corresponded exactly to the same circle on the ceiling. With the exception that these circles were paintings. And not just paintings, but paintings capable of causing fear and disgust in a normal person. The scenes depicted various kinds of executions: hanging, quartering, burning, and the like.

The fact that such things are found in a monastery, and even in the prayer hall, greatly surprised Jerry. Although he never considered himself to be a devout person, it seemed a real sacrilege. It was also strange that in his conversation with him, neither Luke nor Alvaro never mentioned the Lord. Among ordinary monks, almost every second word is about the Lord or God. "Utterly strange," Jerry thought. "A very odd place. And where are their crosses and crucifixions? There should be several of them here, at least!"

Jerry was thinking about his observations when suddenly, what Alvaro had warned him about, started. Deep in his consciousness, a clear and sinister order was spoken:

"Take the biggest ball, Hedgeborn!" Jerry did not obey, although the order almost had the power of coercion.

"Take the ball! Take it! Take it!" the voice in his head started repeating insistently. Jerry held on with an effort. His hand almost reached out to the ball on its own. Jerry stopped it and squeezed it into a fist, sticking it in the pocket of his jacket.

But the situation worsened after a second voice joined the first one, commanding him to take the green ball. The force of the two combined voices was so compelling that Jerry gritted his teeth and used all his willpower to resist. He managed to do so, but the situation went out of his control when a third voice joined the other two, and a few seconds later a whole choir of others:

"Take the big ball!"

"Take the small one!"

"Take the green one!"

"Take the blue one!"

"Take, take, take..." Jerry had a constant hum in his head. When he couldn't bear it anymore, he gathered the balls and threw them with a curse at the monks.

The voices in Jerry's head immediately fell silent, bringing him an unimaginable relief. The dull pain in his temples immediately stopped.

But the pause did not last long. After a minute, the first voice broke through his mind again:

"Fool! Why did you throw the balls?"

The second silent voice joined with the same delay as the first:

"Son of unbaptized parents, gather the balls! Did I order you to throw them away?"

"Gather, gather, gather......!"

This time Jerry held on for quite a long time. Thinking about the gold coin, so teasingly shining in the sunlight in his imagination helped him to resist. And the voices seemed to get tired and persuade him to take the balls not as strongly. But Jerry's exhaustion took its toll and he eventually gave in again.

Then a long pause followed during which "monks" were given time to rest, preparing for a new mental attack. After the break, everything repeated. This time Jerry yielded faster, but not so much that the disciples would suspect that he did it on purpose. This way there was less pain and he even thought that two gold coins a week for such work were still a lot. Although Alvaro said something about him getting paid if he managed not to submit them. What the hell? For that, he will apply all his strength to not submit!

After the seventh or eighth time, Alvaro came, asked the disciples something, nodded satisfactorily, and told Jerry that his work was finished for today. As he left, Jerry cast a glance at the cage where the wolf cub was. The animal was lying in an unnatural pose and seemed dead. A vague guess about the reasons for its death flashed through his mind then he was leaving the black monastery. Strange!

The next day Jerry went back to the black monastery again. Despite the lump of fear that had settled deep in his stomach, he moved his unyielding legs like a wooden doll, forcing himself to go and submit his disobedient body. Jerry clearly understood that having learned to earn his bread this way, he would not be able to return to the old one. Although, mixed with fear was a considerable amount of curiosity, this sense was even stronger than fear. A SORCERY! Real sorcery he had never thought existed!

At that time, instead of Alvaro, a different type was waiting for him at the gate. This one was older and fatter. Jerry stopped calling the inhabitants of the Black Monastery monks in his thoughts, but he couldn't come up with any other name. Who are those guys? He wrecked his brain over that question for a whole sleepless night.

Without saying a word, the "monk" silently gestured for him to follow. Jerry was surprised again at the fact, how accurately they guessed the moment of his arrival. He was only a few steps from the gates when the "monk" opened the door in the gates.

"Some kind of sorcery," he decided to himself, recalling yesterday's observations.

Jerry was brought to the back courtyard by that man where around a long big wood table were placed benches with a dozen or two students younger than the ones in the prayer hall, already had been sitting, waiting for them. The fat "monk" sat Jerry down on a bench and tied a strip of black material over his eyes, blindfolding him. "Sit calmly and try not to think about anything," he warned and began speaking to the students. Jerry again couldn't understand what they were talking about because the language was completely incomprehensible, although some words seemed familiar.

For a while, Jerry's eyes flickered with sparks and spots, like those of people who have closed their eyes for a long time. He started to see dark-red images of cells and blood capillaries humans see in that condition. Then the Fat Monk removed the blindfold and allowed him to turn around. The students began to laugh. Not finding the reason for the laughter, Jerry blinked his half-blinded eyes from the bright light and looked from one to the other in confusion. The children continued to laugh. Finally, the fat instructor put the blindfold on his eyes again and the laughter stopped. This continued for about an hour or an hour and a half. Jerry understood that something was happening with his appearance. He heard sighs and amazed gasps of the students, which excited his curiosity to the utmost, but he did not dare to tear off the blindfold or touch his head by hand to find out what was happening.

After a while, it was over, and the fat instructor ordered one of the students to take Jerry to the gate. The smallest of the students, freckled and particularly contagiously laughing, stood up and casually with superiority in his gaze nodded to Jerry. Meaning to follow him.

When the door to the gate was already closing, Jerry couldn't help but ask the student, holding the ready-to-close door:

"Why were you laughing? What was it there?"

The follower giggled again apparently remembering and picturing in mind some funny things. Jerry, unable to bear it, grabbed the boy by the sleeve:

"Stop laughing, brat!"

The follower tore his arm away and suddenly, sullenly and rudely replied:

"We are not allowed to talk to Straw-butts. Leave while you're still whole!"

Jerry almost hit him for Straw-butt. Barely holding back, he turned and went home. "Don't throw a stone you won't be able to stop!" he remembered the advice of the chief "monk".

On the street, where his hut was located, Jerry came up against unexpected behavior. Some neighbors and acquaintances he met on the way back somehow turned away from him, avoiding his gaze. As if he were, plague-stricken, a leper, or the other type of pariah. Jerry did not immediately realize that this was related to his new "job". Only when the pimpled scoundrel - the son of the Baker, the one who had offered to sell his brother and sister, sitting on the fence began to shout obscenities at him, Jerry understood that someone had accidentally learned about his visits to the Black Monastery and had already spread rumors throughout streets.

In the old wooden cabin where Jerry huddled, he first fed his brother and sister and then began to clean and wash. The strangeness that Jerry saw in the Black Monastery did not leave his head. Thinking about it, he fiercely rubbed the laundry on the old washboard, not noticing that he had already overdone it. This was noticed even by three-year-old Jose, who approached and pointed his finger at him and said:

"Thole!"

Jerry came out of his reverie:

"Don't talk trash, Jose!" he said sternly, as his mother used to do.

"Thole!" Jose insisted, pointing to the shirt that Jerry was washing.

Jerry looked down at the shirt and winced. The shirt, unable to withstand intense washing due to its old age, now had a big hole in the middle. A "Thole" as little brother had called.

"I have to throw it away," Jerry thought, crumpling the shirt and tossing it into the corner. "It's really old. My dad probably wore it, who knows how long ago!" he thought.

Unnoticeably, he began to think again about the Black Monastery, continuing to do his chores:

"I wonder how they do those sorcery things? If I had that kind of power, I would immediately become the richest person in the city. They can make anyone do what they want. Whether it's the governor or even the king! Such a great power, and yet they haven't taken over the world! Sitting in some dark old building, growing crops and raising livestock for food. Do they have any goals in life?"

In the end, he had the idea to experiment.

"Come here, Jose," he called to his brother and seated him in front of him. "See this coin, Jose?" Jerry showed a silver "quarter-elf", change from a gold coin, and placed it in front of him.

Jose immediately reached for the money, but Jerry did not allow him to take it.

"No, Jose! You shouldn't take the coin. Leave it..."

However, Jerry's experiment failed with a crash. Jose did not want to respond to his mental commands, no matter how hard he tried. The little one looked guiltily at him, sticking his right thumb in his mouth and unable to understand what the big brother wanted from him. Jerry tried with his sister, but the six-year-old sister Anne became agitated by his intense gaze, thought she had done something wrong, and started to cry. Jose immediately joined in upon seeing that.

Jerry, frowning, stopped "tormenting" his family and since it was already starting to get dark outside, put them to sleep.

He could not fall asleep that night either, his usually heavily tensed muscles did not want to relax. He lay with his eyes open, thinking about the Black Monastery, listening to the snoring of Jose, who had thrown his leg over his chest. He carefully removed it and freed his hand, which Anne was holding while sleeping...

 

For the next three weeks, the Black Monastery continued to surprise Jerry with its strange inhabitants and their terrifying witchcraft. Sometimes he was subjected to very unpleasant tests, receiving minor burns and bruises. One time they even broke his rib. But despite this, he couldn't give up this way of making money.

Even if the "job" was worse than that he would do it! Being a "Straw-butt"; a simple usual target for archers as he was called by younger students; was still better than scavenging or tolerating abuse and humiliation from merchants, who sometimes needed help unloading good in their shops. He didn't come across any other relatively permanent work. He tried to sneak in with the port loaders once, but they had their guild and quickly drove him out as an outsider.

But now, Jerry was no longer a hungry wolf, constantly prowling for food and therefore thinking poorly. The well-fed think better and more qualitatively. The full even have time to think about the good and the evil, a luxury that a hungry person cannot afford. Jerry was full and therefore understood that when there are too many holes in the Straw-butt from arrows, it will be thrown away as a worn-out thing. He didn't plan to wait for that day. As soon as he had the necessary amount, Jerry planned to buy a place on a ship to cross the sea. He had heard from sailors and various other people in the port that there is fertile land across the sea, a lot of unclaimed free land! And anyone can farm without paying taxes. A happy, carefree life without humiliations, insults, masters, and lords of the old world.

Jerry came to the monastery as always in the morning. At the gate, he was met by Alvaro. The presumptuous Alvaro only provoked two feelings in him: fear and hatred. In addition, Alvaro systematically insulted him, as if he were an inarticulate beast with no right to answer. "Come in, Hedgeborn," he sneered and turned to the entrance of the building. Jerry immediately figured out that the test would take place in the "prayer hall". A place he disliked more than anything else. Not because of the bad paintings on the ceiling, but rather because of the sorcerer's influence that was always stronger there than in the open air.

Alvaro stopped at the entrance and roughly pushed him inside:

"Hurry up, Hedgeborn! Hurry up!"

There were only three students in the hall. Older ones. They stood motionless, like sculptures, frozen in the corner of the hall.

After Alvaro's signal, they approached.

Jerry felt a chill of fear. They were almost his peers in age and this was a cause for fear. He had learned to deal with petty teenagers, but any of the older students could make him eat his own tongue.

Meanwhile, Alvaro briefly left and brought a heavy copper chain. He put it in the middle of the hall. The three students surrounded the chain, and Alvaro pushed him into the middle of this circle.

"Listen carefully, Hedgeborn," began the briefing Alvaro, "If you catch the chain, you'll get a golden coin as promised. I don't think you'll be able to do it, but once a year even a donkey can talk. Got it?

Jerry nodded.

"Now go!"

Jerry leaned over to grab the chain, but it suddenly, for no apparent reason, fled...

For a whole minute, he chased after the chain, which behaved itself like a living being: cunningly dodging at the very last moment, teasing him, letting him come very close, and jumping away.

Jerry decided to change tactics and began to make sharp bursts, instead of depowering exhausting pursuit.

The tactic almost brought success, but when he almost reached the chain, he was suddenly struck by a sharp, burning pain in the muscles.

The spasm of pain didn't pass for several seconds, depriving him of the opportunity to grab the chain and get the gold. Gritting his teeth, he managed to stand on his feet, but couldn't move for half a minute until the pain vanished.

In the next ten minutes, he was knocked down likewise twice. Jerry, who had learned from a bitter experience, developed a kind of sixth sense, he almost physically felt the fluctuations of invisible energy coming from his disciples. He had already figured out who was causing him pain and who had "feather sorcery" powers, those, who were moving the chain.

Jerry felt the energetic connection, which had connected them wondering how do they do it. How they move things without touching them!

Desperately trying to catch the chain, completely exhausted, Jerry suddenly had a clear idea of how to deceive the students. The trick was to create a lack of coordination between those who were knocking him out with pain-strike impulses and those who were moving the chain with the strength of will.

Having managed, once again, to get close to the chain, Jerry suddenly collapsed like a felled tree, as if he had received a painful blow. And when there was a momentary confusion among the listeners during which the spell caster did not expect his burst, assuming that one of his comrades had knocked him down. Jerry rushed to the chain and triumphantly grabbed it with a scream. Yes!

Two painful blows followed at the same time, but he did not release the chain, squeezing it even harder and enduring excruciating pain...

As he rose, Alvaro screamed something angrily at his disciples and drove them out of the room. Then he approached him.

"Okay, ferret, your take. You're smarter than I thought," he said and threw a silver "elfer" on the floor. "You tell Luke that I gave you the gold one."

But Jerry, despite his fear of Alvaro, couldn't agree to this. The large silver elfer was only half the price of the gold one and therefore still kept him a few days away from his dream of traveling overseas. Jerry took the coin and threw it back at Alvaro's feet:

"No. You promised the gold one. Pay!"

There was a pause. Alvaro who was almost turned away to leave the room stopped as if bumped into the invisible wall.

"What?" The voice hissed with anger. Amazed and even slightly confused by Jerry's reaction.

"You! Ferret! F…en Hedgeborn!.."

The chain lying immobile on the floor suddenly came to life and jumped at Jerry. Jerry tried to dodge, but the chain was now moving twice as fast. It immediately caught up with him and in a second, like a metallic python, wrapped around his body, and hands, pinning him to the wall.

Jerry tried to fight the python off, but it was like trying to overcome a tornado. 

Alvaro smiled wickedly and made a spinning motion with his index finger, causing the chain to wrap around the victim's neck.

"What did you say, Hedgeborn?" Alvaro began an interrogation, approaching quickly and bending his finger. The chain obediently began to tighten Jerry's neck.

"Pay up!" Jerry gasped, hatred for Alvaro drowning out everything else: family, the instinct for self-preservation. He was ready to stand his ground, even under the threat of death.

The chain kept getting tighter and tighter. Jerry's gaze focused on the bending finger, which now had become the most important object in the universe. He started to lose consciousness. The chain was tightening, deliberately slowly, bit by bit, threatening to break his neck before suffocating him, when another "monk" suddenly appeared and saved him. Alvaro, who had gone into a frenzy due to his resistance, tried to resist him as well. The chain released Jerry, hanging motionlessly in the air for a while, quivering from the efforts of both men. Finally, Alvaro couldn't hold on any longer and surrendered. For a few seconds, the thick mentor and Alvaro glared at each other with challenging looks, and then the thick man gruffly said, "Pay him!"

Alvaro, after a pause, exactly long enough to show that he was not afraid, threw a gold coin on the floor and, with the words, "I'll pay you back for it, Master Miranj," left the prayer hall. Jerry picked up the coin, rubbing his still sore throat, and looked at his mentor, expecting further instructions. "Go home," the mentor ordered, and, strangely enough, added, "And don't come back if you want to live...."

But that day Jerry ignored the advice of Master Miranj, the sorcerer of the illusions, as he knew now. The money for the trip was still not enough. And the Black Monastery continued to hurt him. At first, he paid no attention to the attacks of pain in his bones, but they gradually intensified and became more frequent. Rare was the day when they did not occur.

Jerry had seen disciples gather in a group and kill some animal, just staring at it. At the same time, he realized that he was also like that animal. The same cub that was killed on the first day in front of his eyes.

He died from pain in half an hour, and since then Jerry could not calmly remember this. True, unlike animals, he learned to control the effect on him. Instinctively, he found a way to protect himself. When the influence of the disciples exceeded the tolerance limit and began to cause pain, Jerry build a thick invisible wall within his consciousness. Imagining granite blocks, strengthening them, and making the wall thicker and thicker, he found out that like that he was able to reduce or completely stop the influence of younger disciples. But the older students were a different matter. They broke through his defense, some easily, some with difficulty, stormed into his mind, doing whatever they pleased, while he futilely tried to drive them out, gritting his teeth, swallowing his own silent cries of pain.