Seeking Veritas, Page 2

  Chapter 2: To Walk the Path

  The next time he woke, he heard someone knocking on the door to his small townhouse, followed by the sounds of a key in the lock and the distinctive squeal of the lower hinge. No matter how many times he oiled the thing, it still squealed. Dorian groaned and fumbled his way into his dressing gown. Only one person other than himself had a key to his house.

  "Dorian? Are you here?"

  Sure enough, Osval's voice sounded from the parlor. Dorian rubbed his forehead, then called out to his friend. "In here. I'll be out in a moment."

  "There is a lady present," Osval called back. "Be sure you are decent."

  Dorian groaned again, rubbing his head. Leola. Drat. Instead of going straight into the parlor, he detoured into the bathing room and splashed cold water over his face, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. Puffy eyes and thoroughly mussed hair. He ran a brush through his hair, then shrugged and tightened his dressing gown. Not much he could do about the way he looked. Such was the price one paid for drinking to the point of unconsciousness.

  He slid his feet into some soft houseshoes and made his way into the parlor, feeling decidedly feeble.

  "So, you are alive!" Osval greeted him with a grin, then cocked his head to the side. "Or are you? You scarcely look like you had a restful night, my friend."

  Dorian resisted the urge to glare resentfully at his best friend and Leola, who regarded him down that long nose of hers with suspicion. "Greetings, Osval, Miss Leola. No, I did not pass a restful night, but that is none of your concern. What brings you two here this morning?"

  "My sister wished to speak to you, and I wanted to find out why you were not at our workplace this morning. From the looks of you, I'd say you still belong in bed. What gives?"

  "I have been contemplating my life," Dorian said, neatly sidestepping the truth of his deep and shameful sin.

  "Perhaps it is high time you did so, sir," Leola sniffed. "Although it is best to contemplate from a position of pure sobriety."

  "My lady, I must apologize," Dorian said, ignoring the small, panicky voice inside, the one that wanted him to chase Leola right out of his house and admonish her to never come back. "I behaved horribly last night, and I humbly crave your forgiveness."

  Leola blinked in surprise, then smiled a satisfied little smile. Osval stepped back a bit, to watch the interaction from a better angle.

  "Forgiveness for such insulting behavior is not so easily given," Leola said, giving him a coy look. "To achieve forgiveness, one must offer some form of meaningful action."

  "I know," Dorian admitted, misery in his voice. He didn't want to do this. Part of him felt he'd come to the completely wrong decision in the dark of night. That part wanted to commit more sin, this time without the alcohol. He snatched his eyes back under control when they turned to Osval. "I have realized the error of my ways. I intend to return to the fold of the Church, and renew my faith, for it has slipped into a dark place of late."

  "Oh!" Leola drew herself upright, a delighted smile breaking free of her decorous control. "Good sir, do you mean to say you will walk the Path of Redemption?"

  Osval's breath caught in a sound not quite a gasp. Dorian glanced at his friend and saw utter shock on the young man's face.

  "I have not decided yet," he hedged. "That is a pretty extreme step, and yet. . ." His voice trailed off, and he shrugged. "I have committed grave sins in my time, and perhaps such is the only true way to expiate them from my soul."

  "You're not going," Osval said sharply.

  "Brother, how could you? Dear Dorian must redeem himself in the eyes of God and Man if he ever hopes to reach Veritas." Leola smiled at Dorian now. "I do wish I could walk the Path someday, and yet I have never strayed from the teachings of the Church. I just think it must be wondrous, to journey so far from the ordinary world that a supplicant reaches the very edges of Veritas itself! Ah, such glory awaits the humble sinner who reaches the goal. . ."

  Dorian swallowed hard. He had a somewhat less idealistic view of the Path, which everyone knew led through the fringes of Perdition long before it brushed up against Veritas, but he almost felt it was the only way to expiate the sin he'd done last night. His eyes turned to Osval again, and this time he let them.

  "What do you mean, I'm not going? I've only said I might, not that I will. I feel. . . dirty inside. Unclean. Like I need to find a new meaning in life. What better way to do so than through religion?"

  "I can think of plenty other ways to add meaning to life that don't involve a journey to the deadliest place in the world." Osval shook his head. "Honestly, Dori, I can't believe you're even considering such a thing. Apologize to my sister, go to Church more regularly if you must, and just keep your personal opinions of the Purifications to yourself. There's no need to go risking your life because you shot off your mouth to the wrong person."

  Leola turned on her brother angrily. "I can't believe what I'm hearing, Osval! Did you seriously just advise your good friend to risk the loss of his immortal soul? Because that is what will happen, you know, if he dies without expiating the sin from his soul. He will be lost, damned straight to Perdition with no hope of redemption."

  Dorian looked at the two again, his best friend and his former betrothed, and sighed. One wanted him to stay safe and sinful, the other would be utterly thrilled to hear that he'd died on the Path. Because, of course, death on the Path meant you were forgiven, and God wanted to bring you into Veritas immediately. He'd probably never share Leola's religious obsession, but perhaps she offered some redemption as well, of a sort.

  "Maybe I just don't want to lose a friend I've known for so long," Osval tried to shrug off the angry words casually, but his tension showed clearly in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders.

  "Both of you have valid arguments," Dorian broke in. "But honestly, the choice is mine to make. Only I know the full extent of the sin which has consumed me, and which I wish to rid myself of."

  "Well spoken, dear Dorian," Leola smiled. "Perhaps upon your return we may discuss reinstating certain future plans."

  "Perhaps," Dorian smiled, although his heart sank. But what else could he do? Leola offered his best chance at a normal life, horse face and all. "I shall look forward to that discussion. But for now, I feel the need to begin the process of cleaning myself up, so I believe you two should be on your way."

  "Dorian," Osval shook his head. "Please tell me you didn't just make up your mind to undertake this madness."

  "And what if I did?"

  "I," Osval's voice faltered, then he swallowed hard. "I will go with you."

  "Now, Osval, there's no need for that," Dorian began, a hint of panic in his voice. Damn it straight to Perdition, he couldn't expiate the worst sin of all with Osval there!

  "You don't know that," Osval responded sharply. "I have my own experiences with sin to worry about."

  "What could you have possibly done that is bad enough to walk the Path of Redemption?"

  "That is none of your concern."

  Leola looked at the two men in a state akin to rapture. "To think, I will know two people who have seen Veritas itself!"

  "Leola, you're being silly. I think you need to go home. Dorian and I have things to discuss."

  Leola pouted a bit at that, but she also nodded. "Very well, I shall leave you two to your plans. I will go to the Church and pray for your safety."

  "You're not talking me out of this," Dorian said, barely noticing as Leola sailed out of the parlor in a rustle of skirts. He focused so completely on Osval it hurt his head. Somehow, in the last several minutes of debate, he'd become utterly convinced that the Path offered his only chance for salvation.

  "Why not, old friend?" Osval's eyes held sick worry. "You have to admit, your plan sounds crazy."

  "I think not." Dorian crossed his arms over his middle, which churned uncomfortably in response to the weird stresses of the morning, added to the alcoholic sickness of the night. "I have a perfectly valid reason to se
ek redemption. You, on the other hand, do not. You are the one that seems crazy here, not I."

  "Come on, Dori, this is me you're talking to here. Remember me? Osval, the friend you've been closest to for years on end? Quit sounding like a bit of booze turned you into a religious fanatic."

  "Osval, believe me, I am fully aware of who you are." Dorian sighed. His head hurt. "I think I have to do this, though. Alone."

  "Why?"

  Just the one word, but everything about the way it was spoken reinforced Dorian's decision. "Never mind the why, my friend. Just accept that I've decided to free myself of sin and mend my fences with your sister, okay? And the best way to do that is the time-honored method of cleansing oneself on the Path. It's scary, I'll grant you that, but I feel it's something I must do."

  "And what if you don't come back?"

  "Then you and Leola can rest easy, knowing I found my way to Veritas."

  Never mind that he shivered with fear at the thought of death on the Path.

  "Look," Osval said desperately, "you can't even be sure the priests will let you make the attempt! I know you. You're no irredeemable sinner."

  "No fear there," Dorian said, with an ironic smile. "Trust me. My sin is deep and dark enough the Guardians will pass me through in a heartbeat."

  "I find that difficult to believe." Osval sighed, sagging a bit. He gave Dorian a deeply troubled look. "Very well. If you truly believe you are such a corrupt, sin-filled soul that you must risk death on the Path, then so be it. But I'm still going with you, and you can't stop me. If need be, I'll follow along behind you."

  "Don't be stupid," Dorian sighed.

  "There's a lot of stupidity in here this morning. Why shouldn't I have some for myself?"

  "Osval, stop being an ass!"

  Osval nodded approval. "Good word choice, for an ass is quite the stubborn little animal, and so am I. You are not going to face this ordeal alone."

  "Why are you so determined to do this? It's stupid for someone who hasn't had a crisis of faith!"

  Osval gave him a steady look. "You don't know what goes on inside me. If I choose now to expiate old sins of my own, that is my concern, not yours. And I have made that choice. If you walk the Path of Redemption, I will be there at your side."

  Dorian muttered something that probably counted as a major sin. "Fine. Do as you will. But do not expect me to like it."

  He turned his back on his friend and returned to his bedroom, rudeness being about the only thing he could control in this unforseen situation.

  He shut the door behind him, careful not to give in to the childish urge to slam it. Safely in his bedroom, he collapsed on the bed, shaking and feeling generally horrible, worse than a common hangover could account for. How had all that happened? Somehow, he'd gone from considering renewing his faith, to making the most extreme commitment a person could make. Not that he thought he deserved better than enduring the walk. Simple penance worked fine for minor sins, such as gambling or visiting with a streetwalker. But what he'd done last night. . . Now, there was a major, soul-destroying sin, although it had been wonderful at the time. So maybe he needed the Path.

  But how could he find redemption if Osval walked the Path beside him?

  No answers came immediately to mind.

  Dorian lay quietly on his bed until the trembling and spinning sensations eased up, although nothing much good happened for his head. His hand lay a short distance from his face, one finger fiddling aimlessly with a fold of the blanket. He watched it, feeling some of the distress ease from his mind and heart. So what if Osval wanted to follow him to the very fringes of Perdition. Fine. So be it. He still felt compelled to go, to carry through the mad plan and cleanse himself of all sin. Maybe it would be harder with an audience, but the end result would be worth it.

  Dorian sat up, stifling a groan. Better get moving. He could feel the sinful thoughts within him even now, wanting to grow and take over his life and soul with their evil. No more.

  When seeking the Path of Redemption, one must make certain preparations. Dorian gave his bedroom a sober look. All the material objects within looked back at him, singing their alluring song of comfort and familiarity. He put the voices aside and moved to his wardrobe, finding the simplest, most basic outfit he owned. Plain shirt, woolen trousers, a simple, unadorned vest, and a plain cloak. He only owned one pair of boots, so those would have to do. Nothing else. All the fancy party clothes, nice shoes, and even the casual but elegant working outfits, would have to stay.

  He felt a little shiver of apprehension as he tucked his comb into his pants pocket. What a dramatic step he was about to take! Dramatic, frightening, and very necessary to redeem himself in the eyes of God and man.

  "Goodbye, life," he muttered, turning his back on the comforts of home. It hurt. Was it supposed to hurt? Did he dare ask a priest? Because, if abandoning all his worldly wealth wasn't supposed to hurt, there'd be one more sin blackening his soul.

  Dorian locked the door to his home for the last time with a feeling of unreality. It seemed like he floated just a bit seperate from his body, watching himself do incomprehensible things. But out here, in the light of day, with the brilliant sunshine stabbing right through his eyes like daggers of light, he felt even more certain. Yes. Do this. Walk the Path and rid himself of sin. Because he couldn't carry the weight of his secret around with him anymore. It shadowed every part of his life, made each day a trial and not a blessing. Just be rid of it, and move on.

  The strength of his resolve reassured him, allowing Dorian to take his first steps down the frightening road ahead. He thought about taking a cab, but in light of his decision to commit to cleansing himself fully, he walked instead. Through the quiet cobbled streets, with genteel old homes looking down on him, beneath the shade of well-grown trees, all the way to the Church he walked, alone with his thoughts. Perhaps Osval had changed his mind. Perhaps this would work out well after all.

  But no, there stood Osval, waiting for him outside the Church.

  "It's about time you got here," his friend said, scowling. "You're the one wanted to do this, you should go first."

  "You don't have to go with me."

  Dorian forced himself to walk past Osval and into the Church without pause or hesitation. The big wooden doors swallowed him whole.

  The Church interior spread out before him, cool and dim. The only light came from the glow of beautiful stained glass windows. A single beeswax candle burned upon the high altar, but it kept its pool of light around itself. Dorian swallowed hard and went to the Supplicant's Door.

  Inside, a priest met him. Dorian felt an instant sense of panic. He'd been afraid of the breed for most of his life, a fear that stemmed from something that happened so long ago he couldn't remember it at all. All he knew was that every priest, in their flowing black robes, frightened him at a very deep level. And it didn't help that they all preached a constant stream of repression and intolerance.

  "Priest, I need to change my life," he blurted out, around the visceral stab of fear.

  "You have come to the right place, Supplicant," the priest intoned solemnly. That was another reason Dorian disliked priests. Everything they said or did sounded straight out of a morality play. "You may begin by listing your sins."

  Here we go, Dorian thought, and began with the sin of disliking priests and the Church in general.