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Chapter 12-3
‘Taken by force. Given willingly.’ Lord Benedict pressed the dulled point of a bone spear head into the bowl of blood-soaked moss. Clement waited for a sign other than the renewed throbbing of his hand. It had hardly stopped hurting this past week, the knuckles seizing during sleep and cracking with every waking movement of his swollen fingers. A dark green stain, brackish with the taint of blood, impregnated the near invisible fissures in the spear tip, bonding the unstable relic like glue. Benedict removed the spear head and submerged it in the grey ash in the fireplace. Ash became glowing embers, and spurts of fire licked the spear as if hungry for the taste of bone and blood. Clement waited. The spear was an odd shape: shaft mostly gone, either struck off or broken in some battle,
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