Jander could not smell his blood at all.
"Oakbrother Endris, of Oakengrove Abbey." He indicated the two wooden buckets he carried. Tve come to get some water from the spring. And who might you be, friend?"
Sudden fear clutched at Jander's heart. "Don't send me away," he pleaded.
A shadow of puzzlement fell across Brother Endris's face. "Why would we do that?" He strode forward and began to draw water from the spring.
"I… I…" Jander floundered for words. "Oakbrother Endris, do you believe in miracles?"
Endris shot him an incredulous look. His blue eyes were wide. "And what kind of a priest would I be if I didn't?"
Jander felt suddenly embarrassed. "I meant no insult," he apologized. "But until last night, I had certainly ceased to hope for a miracle."
Jander relayed an edited version of what had transpired to him, leaving out the shame of his condition. He said he had been "absolved of a great evil," that he was "charged to remain within the circle as a symbol of his repentance." He expected to see disbelief or possibly even anger on Endris's countenance. Instead, the brother listened quietly. At last he spoke.
"Such is not unheard of here," he said quietly. "It would seem that Silvanus and Eldath must have work for you to do."
"But… I cannot leave the grove," said Jander. "What work could I do to earn my keep?"
"If the gods have taken you under their wing thus far, they'll make their wishes known soon enough. In the meantime," and he grinned like halfling, "you can help me draw the water."
Jander laughed, and gladly did so. He escorted Endris to the ring of the grove. "Thank you again for permitting me to stay here," he said.
"None of my doing," replied Endris cheerfully. "But it's good to see an elven face. Far too few folk come visit us these days. I look forward to speaking with you further, Jander Sunstar."
Silently, Jander was grateful that few folk visited the abbey. No doubt his name was being passed along rapidly among the Mistledale folk, ever since that incident a few months ago… No. That was part of the past. This, he thought to himself, looking around the peaceful grove, was the future.
When Jander turned to walk back to the spring, he stumbled. He glanced down and found the discarded antlers of a deer that had passed through the grove, along with a few limbs that had fallen from the old trees.
And then he knew their meaning. "I understand," he said softly to the hush that filled the sacred place. Reverently, Jander picked up the items, seated himself on the boulder next to the spring, pulled out his knife and began to carve.
By dawn, when Endris returned for more water, Jander had accumulated three completed carvings. Smiling, he presented them to the astonished young oakbrother.
"They're… they're exquisite," Endris said softly, examining the two carved wooden likenesses of Eldath and the cluster of oak leaves and acorns Jander had created from the antlers.
"Have your oakfather bless them, and you can sell them as talismans," said Jander. "You can raise money for the abbey."
Endris lifted shining eyes to the vampire. "I told you the gods would let you know what they wanted from you. Thank you, Jander. Oakfather Raylen will be most appreciative. Oh, I almost forgot. I've got something for you, too."
He'd been carrying a large, bulky pack. Now he rummaged through it, humming in an off-key voice. "Ah, here we are." From the pack emerged a brown and green robe with a simple rope belt, some fruit, and a bottle of wine. "Anybody who has the favor of the gods like you do gets treated very well by the abbey." He grinned.
Jander's throat worked. "I… thank you, Oakbrother. Thank you." The words were inadequate, but they would have to do. They were all the surprised elf could manage.
The nights fell into a pattern for the next few weeks. Jander would talk with Endris at the beginning and the end of night, and carve during the rest of the time. He had been an adventurer for most of his days, and at first he feared that the quiet, the peace, and his inability to leave the confined space would wear upon him. But it did not. He had lived a long time as a breathing being, had existed for nearly a century as one of the undead. Now, he simply was, and that was more than enough. For long hours, as Jander carved in silence, he would meditate on the stillness that surrounded him, would think of events long past, of people long since crumbled to dust. And he would think with subdued joy to himself, I do not need to feed upon blood! And that thought made what some might call a strange exile into a paradise.
Endris, too, helped pass the time. He was a jovial fellow, and it seemed every other day he had a new joke to tell his friend. From him, Jander learned about the day-today events that occurred in Oakengrove Abbey, only a short walk away over a small green hill. Jander could even glimpse its stone walls when the branches moved in the wind. But as far as the vampire was concerned, the abbey might as well be as distant as Evermeet, for he would never move a single step closer to it.
One twilight, Jander waited longer than usual for the customary arrival of Endris. But the oakbrother did not come. The night wore on, and Jander became concerned.
It was then that he heard the bell tolling and saw the night sky lit up with an evil, orange hue.
Fire!
Jander's first impulse was to run and help. He almost reached the edge of the circle when he skidded to a halt. If he left, he would never be able to return. He hesitated, torn between his concern for his friend and his blessed peace. At last, angry with himself but seeing no alternative, Jander turned and went back to the spring, hoping miserably that his aid was not needed.
Shrieks pierced the night. Jander tensed. A fire was frightening, of course, but self-assured monks wouldn't panic and cry out in terror-would they?
"Please, Silvanus, protect your own," he murmured. His golden hands clenched and unclenched, reflecting the war that raged within him.
Abruptly, joining the shrieks of terror and pain, came the sound of raucous laughter. The vampire leapt up and raced to the limits of his sacred space, pacing like a caged panther. Unable to help himself, he cried aloud, "Endris? Anybody?"
"Jander!" The voice was weak but recognizable. It was Endris, and after a few seconds that seemed agonizingly long to the agitated elf, the oakbrother stumbled into view.
His face was covered with blood, and he cradled his left arm awkwardly. Jander, who had seen a hundred fights in his day, realized at once that it was broken.
Jander cringed, thinking he knew what Endris was about to say. The oakbrother had no idea-could have no idea-of the real depth of the evil that had haunted Jander Sunstar. He couldn't know that if Jander set one foot outside of the grove, the maddening bloodlust would return, that he would be driven to hunt and harm; that he would again become one of the undead. And Jander knew Endris was about to ask for aid. What would he say? What could he say?
He braced himself for the plea, but Endris's words shocked him-and moved him.
"Jander," gasped the young monk, "hide yourself! Marauders have come to the abbey. They posed as pilgrims, and once they were inside… they will surely slay you if they find you!"
"But," said Jander, "my help…"
"You are only one elf, with no weapon," Endris replied, wincing as pain racked him. "You cannot stand against six such as they!"
Jander began to feel a dreadful, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Six?" he repeated. No, surely it could not be-there were many ruffians out in the woods…
But he had no time to question further. From the direction of the burning abbey came a chorus of laughter and whooping. Endris turned horrified eyes on the four men who emerged from the shadows, cried once more, "Hide yourself!" and charged, weaponless, at his enemies.