Read Online The Last Stand of Daronwy by Clint Talbert - Free Book Online Page B

inside of Travis, then you will no longer have to fear him.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œWhat does his father do?”
    â€œHe works at the refinery like everyone else.”
    â€œHis mother?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’ve never seen her.”
    â€œMaybe Travis’s parents are no longer together. Perhaps that is what makes him decide to act as a bully. Think on how you can connect with the scared boy deep inside of Travis. Think on how you can forgive him. Okay?”
    Jeremy frowned. This hardly made any sense. “I guess so.”
    Father patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “All right then, come on. We have a job to do, and I think you’re the only acolyte today.” Father took the bronze cross from its stand and walked out of the sacristy. Jeremy’s mind buzzed; he was going to serve alone! When they stepped to the base of the center aisle, there was hardly time for a breath before Mr. Leblanc nodded at them and the music began. Jeremy stepped off, shoulders squared.
    Song rose into the swooping, curved buttresses. They came to the altar, genuflected, and climbed the three wide steps. Father began with his usual greetings, then read the first prayers from the giant Bible that Jeremy held open. Afterward, Jeremy carried the great Bible to the altar, easing it onto its wooden stand to await the Petition and the Eucharist after the Readings.
    Mass carried on in its somber, slow pace, as it had for two thousand years and would for another two thousand. A lecturer read the two passages from the Old and New Testament, Father read the gospel and gave his sermon. Jeremy’s mind wandered out into the ether, thinking about the wiles of Kronshar and what it would be like to see in both the Shadow World and the real world at the same time. The entire congregation chanted the Nicene Creed as he and Father led them. Jeremy mentally prepared for the next steps. Now he would have to act, especially since he was the only one up there.
    The gifts were presented and Jeremy took the water and the wine to the half-hidden shelf at the far left of the altar. He put them there and pushed through the hidden door into the back room. It was a long room, built into the edge of the church, serving as both a storeroom and a conference room. The floor was green tile, left over from before Father Pat’s remodeling. There was a sink with a special drain where they poured the leftover blessed wine so that it could drain straight to the earth. There was a statue of Mary in the center of a long table with papers scattered about and folding chairs seated around it. Behind the table were cabinets stuffed with fake flowers and decorations for different celebrations. Jeremy glanced around for a moment before finding the trigger candle lighter on a nearby table. He took it, stepped out, and stopped.
    His next task was to light the candles in their hammered bronze stands on either side of the altar’s table. Beeswax candles, slender and white, topped with gold weights to ensure they would burn down straight. The tops of the stands were level with Jeremy’s eyes and the candles were usually not much higher. But these were new. They towered four feet above the stands, almost as tall as Jeremy’s dad.
    He took a breath and walked across the altar, wondering how he would reach them. Standing on the tips of his toes, he held the very end of the trigger lighter and stretched his right arm as far as it would go, teetering there. Careful not to fall into the pedestal and send it clattering to the floor and mindful of the taboo of touching the altar, he hung there like a graceless ballerina straining for flight.
    He clicked the trigger on the flame and its yellow tongue licked the gold weight atop the candle. Just another inch. Click. Almost there. Stretch. His shoulder jammed into his ear, his toes wailed. His balance swayed. One. More. Inch. Click. His hands shook too much for the flame to find