Apostasy: The Book of Ithaca

Chapter 7

Chapter VII



         It had been two days since she began her search of the lower libraries. It was a confusing network of tunnels and shelves of old and dilapidated books and scrolls. She had never been this deep into the libraries, and she knew that if she were caught there would be no explanation for her presence here. It was comforting though, knowing that there were few who knew of these sections of the library, and even fewer who bothered to scout its many twisting tunnels. It was a very distant chance that she would be discovered.

         Father Archimedes' librarian had offered little in the way of aid. It seemed his knowledge did not span that of the ancient world. He was however, useful in hunting down books, far more useful than Valimaar was. But she knew that books were not his expertise, and for that she understood why he was often so reluctant to go delving into passages such as these.

         The trump of a man did not offer any resistance when she told him that they would be going here. Everyone knew that these libraries were strictly off limits to any who didn’t belong, but for a chance to read of the makings of the Divinity were enough to keep his mind away from that fact. Hers on the other hand, constantly thought of nothing but the Exorcism that the Arbiter spoke of.

         She worried of Valimaar, she couldn’t bare it if harm were to come to him. He after all, was one of the only people that she could consider a friend. He was one of the only ones that she cared for. He was however, an Expurgator, and after battling geists, she was certain that a man would offer little challenge, possessed or not. That however, was not enough to keep her mind at ease. For the man had terrified the entire church. Perhaps he was more than what they were thinking he was. Perhaps he was capable of far more than just murder.

         She could not keep the thoughts from her mind. They taunted her. They poked and prodded their way into her thoughts like birds pecking at corn. They were relentless.

         “Lady Elaine,” the voice called out from the end of the dark corridor, “I found something.”

         She jumped to her feet and trotted down the hall. Two days. Two days of clawing at dirt between stones, and unburying piles of books only to find solid floor. She hoped that this was it.

         He sat there like a lump on a gnarled tree, pawing at loose stones, and old shredded parchment. His hands were filthy. It was a rare sight to see a member of the Presbyterate so rough. It was almost humorous. She had known that he had done little in the ways of investigative research. Often times it required hands to get stained with grit, grime, and dust. He was like a child at play.

         The soil did all it could to fall back into the hole he was clawing at. He scooped large handfuls of dirt aside in every direction.
The soft feel of old cloth ceased his intense digging, and he began to put more care in his work. She stood staring over his shoulder at the hole in the floor. As he continued to dig, her heart began to race. Had they found it?

         He lifted the blood stained, dirty white cloth from the ground to inspect it. They had found it!

         She ripped the cloth from his hands and began unfolding it, realizing that it felt quite light. There was nothing here. Her heart sank immediately as she plopped onto the dirty floor. He had lied to them.

         She tossed the cloth aside, and it came to rest on a mound of old moldy books that had fallen from a rotten wood shelf. The wrinkled parchment fell like a leaf on a tree to the old floor, landing beside her hand.

         The two of them shared a look, and she picked it up slowly. Her heart began to race as she held it up to the torchlight and began to read…

         Eventually I knew this book would have me imprisoned. I knew far too much for me to be left to roam free, and far too much to be executed. Knowledge is a very powerful tool. It is more than that… it is a weapon. A weapon that when used in the correct hands has not the power to harm, but the power to heal. But when the wrong hands grasp it, it becomes more than an instrument of death, it becomes the bane of humanity.

         I knew you would come and find it Vicar Forane. You were always so fond of books, even when you were but the lowliest priestess. I’m sorry for the deception, but I could not leave the book here. Once they knew of its existence it was only a matter of time before they found it. That is why I was imprisoned. Not for heresy, not for blasphemy, for knowing the truth.

         I will tell you where the book is, but not in this writing.

         I have always served the higher purpose, and you too are about to. In time you will begin to understand that all of us depend on this book. Without it, we are doomed.

         I find myself facing my trials with all the joy in my heart. I know that it will be safe, and I know that one day you will go looking for it. I am not angry with them for punishing me. Weak minds do not always understand the truth. I’m only hoping that you do.

         I grow weary of this world Vicar Forane. Since I have discovered this book, I've felt a darkness in me. One that I have fought with all the strength in my heart. I don't know how much longer I can continue to do battle with this thing, for it drains me. I will fight it as long as I can, for I will not allow it to conquer my spirit.

         I await your stepping into the light. Everyone moves through life in the darkness, but you will soon see the truth. I only hope that you can accept it. Never allow yourself the luxury of ingorance, for it blinds us. Open your eyes and see, and you will see the world around you as the way it is and was. Only then, will you truly be illuminated.

         Father Gordon…

         She clasped the parchment to her chest holding back tears. Life could be so cruel sometimes. She couldn’t imagine losing so much time in a prison for a crime that had not been committed. People never understand the truth. Truth was often times, the cause for tragedy. People grow accustomed to a way of life and a set of beliefs, and when that harmony is disturbed by truth, the reject it or worse, destroy it.

         They had destroyed him. They had left him to rot with the truth forever embedded in his mind. She couldn’t imagine what regrets he had had for bringing his knowledge to light, all she could think of, was that she was partially to blame. Everyone was.

***************

         It was not easy finding the forgotten cell of Father Gordon. She had only been led there once, and it was through a darkness like no other. It lingered still, its veil enshrouding all that dared enter the moldy corridor.

         Lady Elaine despised the dark. Though it was childish to be afraid, she could not help it. There is nothing in the dark, that is not in the light. That statement was true perhaps, but what was in the dark was different that in the light. She could not see it. After having encountered daemons, the work of a murderer like no other, and the plague, not being able to see what was in front of her was terrifying.

          She longed for Valimaar to be by her side. How angry he would be if he knew she were there putting herself back in harm’s way yet again. It was rude to go against his wishes, but she wanted to help, and this was the only way.

         Her eyes hurt from the darkness. She strained to see anything at all, but all that was there was the feint glow of distant torches down the long hall. They offered little light, for the darkness hungered for everything, and their glow was not above its taste.

         If she were caught down here, there would be no explaining her motives. Other than the book, she had no business here at all, and the book would offer her no amnesty from her transgression. For it was a secret, and simply knowing of it at all, could very well cost her everything. Father Gordon was imprisoned for it, and perhaps they would do the same to her
.
         What was in this book that had led to his fate? The Divinity always showed compassion to its servants, especially ones such as Father Gordon. He was devout, he was pious, he was the embodiment of faith. She had known this for a long time, for he was her mentor in her early career. And everything that she was now, came from his teachings. Why then? Why would they imprison him for a book?

         He had been accused of heresy, the highest of crimes in the Divinity’s eyes. His ramblings of truth had led her to question his sanity. When he had gone to the Hereticus Administratum, his life as he knew it was over. Valimaar himself had been his accuser. She imagined that he was the one that Father Gordon had confided in. Valimaar after all, was a particular authority in matters of the occult, very much like the priest was. Valimaar was also an Expurgator; a heresy examiner… truth was their native tongue.

         Weak minds do not always understand the truth…

         Perhaps he was right. Humans, all humans were weak minded, even the servants of Azul. They were illuminated by the teachings, but they were still human, and every human had its flaws. Valimaar was no different.

         She stood at the end of the long hall staring at the old iron door in front of her. It was the tomb of a man who had not yet passed. How tragic it was. It was everything she could do to fight back the tears.

         It took all of her strength to wrestle open the rusted latch that locked him in. It creaked and screamed as metal cog works grinded against one another. As the mechanisms finally came to rest at an unlocked position, they let out a loud metallic click, and the door swung freely on its hinges.

         He sat huddled in the corner of the filthy room, with his head between his knees. So broken he looked. As she stepped into the room, his head rose and the fire in his aged eyes brightened.

         ”I knew you would come back,” he said, his voice scratched through the back of his throat like the claws of some feral beast.

         She knelt close to him, lending him a comforting hand, “Father Gordon, I am so sorry for what was done to you.”

         His lips struggled to form a gentle smile as he stared deeply into her eyes, “It is not your fault Vicar Forane.”

         ”Perhaps I could help you get out of this place,” she said, brushing the dried filth from his bony back.

         He shook his head at her, “There is no helping me anymore Vicar Forane, my fate was sealed long before they put me here.”

         “When you found the book?”

         ”Yes, the book was part of it,” he said, “I was found guilty of heresy, they were right, for I have long since lost my faith.”

         Her eyes welled with tears, there was no stopping them. For a priest to lose his faith was a great tragedy. For what had caused, was an even greater one. How could someone grasp on to the teachings of hope and love after enduring what he had? It was tragic.

         ”There are no words to express my guilt Father Gordon,” she said between sobs as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

         ”Listen to me Vicar Forane,” he said, grasping her by the shoulders, “What was done to me was beyond your control. You may yet help me be redeemed, but you must listen to me.”

         She nodded.

         ”When I realized that the book was going to be my downfall, I had it sent as far from Ecclesia as I could. My personal servant took it south, to the sovereignty of Lokken.”

         Her sobs ceased as she looked up at him. Lokken, the land of the wytches.

         ”It was the only place that it would remain safe from their hands,” he said, “Once I read its pages, I knew eventually that the end would come. I had instructed my priest to find you when it started. He did not understand me at the time, but he swore he would. Now I must ask you a question.”

         “What is it,” she asked, staring deeply into his eyes.

         “Did he find you? Do you have it,” he asked, his grip tightened.

         “Do I have what,” she asked, wincing, his hands had tremendous strength.

         “Saint Peregrine’s Fall,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

         Thoughts of the dead priest raced through her mind. She remembered seeing him lying upon the road, lifeless in a pool of his own blood. His body had been left for the geists.

         “I do,” she said, struggling to force the visions from her mind.

         “Where is it,” he asked, his voice had taken on a particular intensity, as though weight of the entire world were thrown upon his shoulders.

         Lady Elaine stood, “I locked it away in my quarters in the basilica,” she said.

         The man’s eyes opened wide as he jumped up, “You must get it away from here,” he exclaimed, “They must not have it!”

         Who was they?

         “Listen to me Vicar Forane,” he said grasping her once more, “Take it to Lokken, find that book. Do not announce your leave, and do not stop until you get there. Bring Brother Valimaar with you, for you will require protection.”

         “What are you hiding all this from,” she asked, she was clearly agitated.

         He turned away from her, “Azaal’s servants Vicar Forane, they are everywhere. I know that now. He is coming back to the world, and there isn’t much time,” he said, kneeling to the chipped stone floor.

         Azaal’s servants? Of course they were everywhere. Evil takes the shape of many things, but evil had always been a metaphor to her, until recently. Perhaps he was speaking the truth.

         “Father Gordon,” she said, stepping closer to him, “what is in that book?”

         “The truth,” he said, “I am sorry Vicar Forane, but I have wrestled with the poisons in my spirit for too long. With each day I feel my will submitting to this thing. I have done my part, and now it is time for me to go. I leave this in your hands now.”

         He stood grasping a large shard of broken stone.

         "May I be forgiven for my sins," he said. His voice trailed off into silence as a tear rolled down his cheek.

         His blood sprayed across the moldy stone walls as he ripped the sharp jagged rock across his throat. The last of his sanity had finally broke, and his lifeless body fell to the floor. His dead eyes were staring into hers, and the corners of his lips were raised in a slight smile. He was finally at peace.