Tch. I took another month to update. I really do not rock my own socks right now.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning James was up bright and early at the positively ghastly hour of ten o'clock and heading off on his way to the Temple of Light. He had his meagre savings stashed away in a bag at his hip to offer if the Abbott didn't feel like helping him for nothing. 'Yeh don't get somethin' for nothin',' Sparrow's voice chimed in his head, before James promptly shut it out.
It was a deceptively nice day as James padded along the winding dirt track. Sunlight bathed the grass and the white-barked tree trunks. Birds chirped cheerfully in the canopy of leaves above a ruin to the right of the path. The sound of the water running off the water wheel behind him was a steady relaxing rumble. Yes. He had a good feeling about today.
Despite the rather unpleasant discovery of a number of crushed beetles littering the path the short trip was uneventful. He greeted the few monks he met pleasantly – it was probably a good idea to ingratiate himself with them if he was going to convince them to help him after all – and hurried up the hill.
The Temple of Light had never inspired any feelings of awe in James the few times he'd visited in the past. Even as a child he'd held the monks in contempt. He'd never understood how anyone could willingly spend their lives trapped inside those itchy robes, abstaining from all the wonderful things in life. He hoped that none of them remembered some of his ruder remarks from those past visits.
As he approached the entrance to the small temple two monks stalked past him, muttering to one another. James hesitated for a moment to glance back at them and it was just as well he had. When he turned back to the temple he froze mid step, eyes fixed on a very familiar young man who was standing inside talking to the Abbott. James skittered to the side, hiding outside the door behind one of the small braziers that stood either side of the entrance.
"-not a bloody popularity contest, yeh know," he heard Sparrow snap. "What does it matter if yeh know me or not? I can still kill things better'n anyone yeh know. "
"Yes, I understand," the Abbott replied, "But even so I only have your word for that." Sparrow began to object again but the Abbott rode over him calmly. "Listen. The bandits in Rookridge have been causing trouble for the town lately. Perhaps if you were to deal with them I'd be more inclined to trust you."
There was a long pause and then, "...Bandits?" Sparrow asked in much the same tone a sullen child might use after being told he could have apple pie if he ate all his carrots. "Well... I suppose I can do that for yeh."
"Excellent!" the Abbott replied, sounding more relieved than pleased. "You should ask at the inn. Most of the villagers will be there when they aren't working, and they do so like to gossip. I'm sure you'll find the information you need."
Sparrow muttered something else which James didn't catch and a moment later Pumpkin came prancing out of the door. James flattened himself against the wall, just in time to hide himself from Sparrow's sight. He glowered at Sparrow's back venomously as he made his way down the path, silently cursing him and all of his future descendants. Not Pumpkin though. He had to admit, he rather liked the dog, and besides, there were few enough of the creatures left in Albion as it was.
Once Sparrow was out of sight, James straightened up and smoothed down his clothing. With a little sniff of disdain aimed at Sparrow he turned on his heel and strode into the temple, his heels clicking smartly against the stone flooring. The Abbott was kneeling in front of the large stone effigy of a monk at the opposite end of the room, his head bowed.
"Excuse me," James said as he approached and the Abbott twitched in surprise, lifting his head and looking back over his shoulder. James smiled, a bright but fake, dazzling smile that he usually saved for trying to convince his father's friends not to molest him, "Are you the Abbott?"
The old man carefully climbed to his feet again, wobbling a little, and turned to face James. "Yes, I am the Abbott. How can I help you, my child?"
Having not thought this far ahead, James paused to think about how best to word his plea. Of course, he'd never been especially bright and while he could be charming when the situation called for it, it wasn't for his stunning wit and intellect. So, in the end he settled for letting his smile quiver slightly, before fading into a worried frown. As he lowered his gaze sadly he caught the sudden softening of the Abbott's expression and he almost grinned with satisfaction. Evidently this had been the right idea.
"I'm very sorry to bother you," he said meekly, wringing his hands in front of his chest, "But... well, I have a problem and I don't know who else to turn to."
The Abbott tilted his head sympathetically and placed a hand on James' shoulder. "Well, you did the right thing, asking for help. Come. Let's take a walk outside and you can tell me what's on your mind."
James nodded quietly, managing a small, uncertain smile, but as the Abbott made his way out of the temple, James following at his heels, the smile grew into a deeply triumphant grin. This was going very well indeed.
- - -
After explaining the situation to the Abbott, standing in the grassy field beside the large pond outside of the temple, James was convinced he done enough to guarantee help. He'd carefully made sure to illustrate his father's increasingly irrational behaviour, exaggerated the extent of the hounding his family was suffering from the Temple of Shadows, and made a point of pausing every now and then in his story to stop and sniffle sadly, or look away with an expression of grave worry. The Abbott nodded at all the right places, looking more and more sympathetic with every word that came out of James' mouth.
So when the old man looked him dead in the eye and said, "I am very sorry James, but there's nothing we can do," James' mouth literally fell open in shock.
He was silent for a long moment, not quite sure what to make of this, before finally sputtering, "I beg your pardon?"
The Abbott shook his head, spreading his hands in front of him acquiescently. "I do wish there was something we could do, but the Temple of Shadows is simply too powerful for us to do much. We've had our own problems with them as of late, and they've proven extremely aggressive. As we can't risk the village should they decide to attack, I'm afraid the only help I can offer is bringing your father here. Perhaps prayer will guide him back to the Light?"
James' right eye twitched in disbelief and he balled his fists at his sides. This simply was not acceptable. "I have money," he spat out after a long moment. "It isn't much but-"
Shaking his head, the Abbott fixed James with a genuinely apologetic gaze. "I'm sorry, but there really is nothing we can do. If you wish to donate, feel free, but no matter how much you give us, we are just as helpless against the Shadows as your father is. I'd recommend saving it. Use it to hire a bodyguard to protect your family, perhaps." He inclined his head slightly, "I'll pray for your safety." And with that, he turned and left.
Left alone standing by the water, James watched the Abbott retreat into the Temple, absolutely seething with fury and disbelief. How dare he deny him help? There had to be something the Temple could do. Hell, what did they do with all that money people were always donating to them? Couldn't they loan the money to his father? Surely it would be better to be in debt to the Temple of Light than to the Temple of Shadows?
For a moment he considered following the Abbott and demanding help, but after a moment's deliberation he decided that that would be terribly undignified. With an angry (and not a little frightened) sniff, he turned on his heel and promptly marched off down the path back towards the village, this time making absolutely no effort to make a good impression on the monks.
By the time he'd reached the inn once again the anger had faded to a dull throb in the back of his mind. The anxiety over what he was supposed to do next was much more prevalent. His only idea had been to ask the Abbott for help, and since he was so adamant that there was nothing that he could do for them, James was at a loss.
Worry chewed at him as he made his way back into the inn to pay for his room for another night. That was another problem. With the bridge down he had no way of getting home yet. What if something happened while he was gone?
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Sparrow standing in front of him until he very nearly walked face first into his chest. Startled, he stumbled back a step and began to apologise distractedly, right up until he realised who it was. "Oh," he said, his voice quite clearly carrying the bitterness and embarrassment from the night before, "It's you."
"Aye," Sparrow replied, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "It's me. Fancy that."
James said nothing in favour of simply standing there and glowering at Sparrow. The larger boy was blocking his way and didn't seem to be in a hurry to move. After a long moment of standing there, glaring at him, James eventually asked, "Are you going to let me past?"
Sparrow cocked his head, almost managing to pull off an innocent expression. "I was waitin' for you to let me past."
Sputtering quietly, James slammed his hands down on his hips and shook his head. "No, you should let me past. It really is the least you can do, considering the trauma you've inflicted on me over the past few days."
"Trauma?" Sparrow repeated, laughing suddenly. "All I did was kiss yeh." He said it loud enough that two young women sitting nearby turned to stare at them with wide, doe eyes. James was sure he died a little inside.
"Will you be quiet," he growled under his breath, his expression utterly mortified. "I don't need all and sundry knowing the liberties you've been taking with my mouth."
Sparrow's eyes flashed and James immediately regretted his wording. "Oh, trust me Pumpkin, there are worse liberties I coulda taken with yer mouth."
The sudden burn in James' face was enough to tell him that he'd gone an incredibly shameful shade of red and he stepped to the side, out of Sparrow's path immediately. "You are a pervert," he said, managing to channel all of his disbelief and embarrassment into that one little sentence. Sparrow just shrugged as he stepped past, an idle little smile dancing around his lips.
"Yeh say that, but yer the one jumpin' to conclusions about what I meant, Pumpkin," he said over his shoulder casually. The heat in James' face intensified until he was sure he was going to pass out.
"My name is James," he finally snapped back, albeit weakly. Sparrow only laughed at that as he left the inn, not once looking back at James.
Once again, sorry for the wait. Hopefully the next chapter should make up for it. :3