The Silken Key

Prologue Part 2

Detlef ran as fast as his feet could carry him. The laces of his boots had come loose and were whipping his skinny legs painfully with each stride. Above him, the moon seemed to frown and around him the town was asleep. Warm orange firelight was visible through the shutters of only a few windows, reminding him of just how warm and cosy it would be indoors.

Instead, he was out in the cold and about to get a right royal telling-off for being late.

The dirt-track sheltered by trees led him to the field on the edge of the foothills. To the north the mountains rose high, looking like giant ghosts in the moonlight. To the south, the land sloped gradually away to the ocean several miles away. Behind him to the east was the path he'd just come down and to the west, directly in front of him, was Rector Boso looking extremely annoyed.

"You promised me you would be on time," said the round, balding man in the fine yellow and blue vestments of a priest. "Our patron has a long journey ahead of him and cannot afford to wait for your lazy, good-for-nothing backside to make an appearance."

For a moment Detlef wondered if he should reassure the Rector that he had no intention of presenting his bottom, but he realised what was meant just in time and mumbled an apology.

In the middle of the field was a dais; a low platform made of stone with an altar in the middle of it. Rector Boso turned and walked towards it. Every Sunday, the town would come to stand around it and take part in worship. Some of the more pious members of the community came out here to pray every day. And some unlucky boys - like Detlef, for example - came out here every day because they were altar servers and had no choice.

Being out here this late was unusual, however. Rector Boso had not told Detlef what the reason was, but this was not the first time. Sometimes, something would happen that people wanted special prayers said for: a sick family member, or perhaps someone had died and their family wanted to make sure their soul was received by God. Or perhaps someone was about to go to battle and wanted God's blessing before they went.

Detlef hadn't heard about anyone being sick or dying, and there hadn't been any battles in the land for many years.

"So what's this all about?" Detlef asked, meaning to ask in his head but accidentally saying it out loud.

Rector Boso whirled around and clipped the flat of his palm against the side of Detlef's head.

"Don't be so impertinent, boy!" he hissed. "We are about to begin the rite and there is no time to explain. You've done this enough times. You know what to do. So shut up and get on with it."

"Now, now, don't be so hard on the lad." The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Detlef looked around and saw a man dressed in a heavy black travelling coat. He had striking, swept-back hair and a broad smile that seemed like it never left his face. It would have been a friendly face, but his eyes were deep set and dark, like two shadowy pools the moonlight could not reach.

The strangest thing was that there was nowhere the man could have been hiding, yet Detlef had not seen him when he'd first run into the field. Rector Boso was always telling Detlef he needed to pay more attention...

"Ahem...the boy knows I mean well." Boso said with an embarrassed cough into his hand. "Still, better late than never. Are you ready to begin?"

The man in the coat looked at his feet, laughed and shook his head. "My dear Rector, I am ready to leave. I've been ready to leave for over an hour. You know that I am only going through with this because you insisted I must."

"I did not insist." Boso seemed offended by the suggestion. "I merely pointed out that if you travel such a long way by night without the grace of God, then you are responsible for whatever horrid fate befalls you on the road."