Apostasy: The Book of Ithaca

Chapter 11

Chapter XI



         The harsh stares burned through Lady Elaine as they marched through the dirty slush that lay upon the cracked flagstone. All around them, filthy faces, and cold expressions sneered at them as they went past. She had never been to this district in Ecclesia. Most of the Ecclesiarchy made a point of avoiding it. She now knew why, for she felt no welcome among these people.

         Though the plague had not breached the city's walls, the denizens of this district looked as though they were dying. Wrinkled skin hung off of ragged bony frames like it were oozing away. Their eyes were sunken, and their faces were weathered. They looked like hard individuals; strong in a sense, as though they were defiant to the onslaught of the elements.

         The homes here were in poor maintenance as far as she could tell. Old wood clung to their frames as though it were going to blow off in the wind at any second. The thatched roofs were dotted with small holes, and patched with the ever heavy snow. Windows were boarded, and doorways were locked. These people did not suffer the rest of the world.

         Throaty calls and inaudible shouts pierced her ears as they continued their walk. She couldn't hear them, but she knew they were insults and taunts meant for them. Why were these people so hostile towards them?

         The cold wind beat at her eyes like fists, and they watered as though she were crying. Her long red hair whipped in its gale, stinging her neck like a lash from the torturer's hands. She tightened her white cassock around her exposed skin and trudged on in defiance of the harsh people.

         She kept close to Valimaar. Though regret filled her for having shouted at him the previous night, she did not desire to risk falling too far behind, and too close to the ragged men and women that lurked about. He was unpleasantly silent as they walked past the old buildings and broken carts. She knew that how she acted toward him was well beyond what he deserved. His solemnness radiated off him as though he were aflame with troubles, and it heated her flesh as though she too could feel it. She knew that he hadn't told her everything that he had seen that night. Perhaps he couldn't bring himself to remember seeing his fellow brother taking his life, although, she knew it wasn't that. There was a seriousness about him that she couldn't place. Beyond her abrasiveness toward him the previous night, she had no idea what festered in his thoughts.

         It was odd that he offered no argument to her suggestion. Though it was his idea to speak to a Wytch in the first place, much had changed since they arrived in Ecclesia. She knew he carried the burden of all the deaths that occured. It wasn't his fault, but she could feel him blaming himself.

         She risked looking aside to the many people that had taken interest in their parade. Dark eyes stared back into hers with a fiery disdain.

         "Ignore them."

         The sound of his voice startled her, and she averted her eyes back to the path that lay in front of them.

         "We are not a particular favorite among these people," Valimaar said.

         "Why?"

         "This district was the heart of the Wytch hunts. It left many of them in need. Most of their homes, and their stores were ransacked six years ago, and now they scrape what living they can."

         That explained the hatred she felt suffocating her. Who could blame them? The Ecclesiarchy had laid waste to the Wytches that used to inhabit the city, and she recalled quite well the people that stood in their way. Most of them did not survive.

         Their march stopped at the end of the neglected road. A large building loomed in front of them. Like the rest of the structures surrounding them, it too was little more than a frame. Echoes of sing song and melodies spilled out from its closed door. They were not cheerful, but rather melancholy. Hoarse laughter and the clanging of glass ringed through her ears.

         Valimaar twisted the handle of the door that had all but fallen off. The scent of sweat, filth and burning meat poured out as though it spilled from a jar. She held back the gag that shot its way through her throat. The commotion of drunken men and women rang in her ears, and thumped in her chest.

         As they stepped through, the melodies slowed and went quiet. They walked through a cloud of silence with the ever resentful stares falling upon them. Lady Elaine could feel the fury stewing around them. Wherever they were, she knew that this was not the safety that Valimaar had insisted on.

         Whispers carried through the dry-rotted walls of the establishment and came to rest in its dark corners. The floor was sticky with vomit and spilled alcohol. All around her she saw the wrinkled faces of men and women who desired something sinister. What was it? She could only guess.

         As they reached the bar, eyes averted away from her companion. Regardless of how much they hated him, he still filled them with fear.

         "I'm looking for a woman named Jazira," Valimaar said as he placed his hand on the hilt of his rapier.

         The fat man that stood behind the bar turned to face him. His shoulders quaked with the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Well if it isn't one of the Ecclesiarchy whores and her lapdog."

         Malicious laughter rumbled through the silence of their onlookers. Valimaar snatched the man by the collar of his shirt. As he gripped the man's plump cheeks in his hand, he slid a knife from its scabbard. "Speak to us like that again, and you'll find yourself without a tongue."

         The man nodded.

         "I'll say it again. I'm looking for a woman named Jazira."

         "Don't know anyone by that name." The bartender turned away from him and straightened a glass bottle on the wooden shelf.

         Lady Elaine watched him as he busied himself with the many alcohols in front of him. His head turned this way and that as his eyes darted about the corners of the tavern. He was lying.

         "Will something gold change your mind?" She tugged at a gold ring on her finger and slid it across the bar.

         "I told you. I don't know anyone by that name." He turned his head, revealing the pock marks on his rosy cheeks. "Come back tomorrow. Maybe bring some more of your friends and you can steal what little we have left from us."

         The blast made her jump. The glass bottle exploded, and red drink spilled out. It splattered the walls as if it were blood stains. The man was close to falling backwards from the shock as he gripped his right ear. A trickle of blood seeped through his fingers.

         Plumes of whispy smoke snaked from the muzzle of Valimaar's pistol as he lowered it. "Now do you know her?"

         The lump of a man in front of her was shaking as he regained his composure. "We're not looking for trouble. You people have already done enough to us."

         Valimaar pulled his other pistol and took aim at the man's head.

         "I be Jazira," the voice called from the back corner of the tavern.

         The hooded woman slithered her way through the silent crowd. Beneath the cowl, locks of straight back hair rained down past her bosom. The dark cloak draped over her shoulders swished as she walked as carried on the wind.

         She stopped in front of Valimaar and removed her cover, "What be your business with me?"

         Her green eyes, deep as beryl, stared in defiance at the Expurgator.

         Valimaar returned his pistols to their baldric, but kept his hand on the butt stock. "We wish to speak with you."

         "Come with me then."

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

         The run down shack offered little warmth. Lady Elaine shivered as she watched the woman place twigs on the sad excuse for a fire. Puffs of white vapor escaped her dark lips as she breathed. Jazira was an odd looking woman. She had never seen that color of skin before. It wasn't dark, but it certainly wasn't pale like the citizens of Ecclesia. She was however, quite attractive. Her young face and full chest were far different from the company they had recently been in.

         Valimaar was silent. His eyes scanned the room as he sat in the wooden chair. Always calculating. She hadn't seen anything to suggest they were in danger, but her bodyguard was never willing to lower his guard.

         Jazira turned to face them. "You be here to finish what you started?"

         Valimaar's eyes met hers. "Not today."

         "Then what is it you be wanting?"

         Lady Elaine pulled the wooden box from her robes and held it up. "What do you know of this?"

         Jazira stumbled backward as she stared at it with wide eyes. "That be the Prohpet's Cube!"

         Valimaar leaned forward in his seat, "What does it do?"

         The young woman crept closer to the relic in her hands. She held her arms up in front of her head as if it were going to explode. "You found it."

         Valimaar turned to Lady Elaine. She could see the shock in his eyes.

         "Rakin said you would be finding it."

         Valimaar stood and turned away from them. Something was troubling him.

         "Who is Rakin?"

         Jazira reached for the box. Her inquisitive eyes sparkled in the dim firelight. "He be the Bishop that was imprisoned."

         Father Gordon? His name was Rakin? Why did he not tell her that?

         "He be my uncle."

It didn't make sense. Father Gordon, a Wytch. Was it possible? After everything that she had seen it was certainly probable. It was strange that he had managed to coordinate all of this without being detected. If he had Wytches carrying out his wishes, it seemed a better chance that all of this was possible. Still, it made no sense.

         "He be the one you punished," she said, turning to Valimaar.

         "It was my duty."

         "It was your destiny."

         Destiny? This woman was mad. There's no such thing as destiny. Azul's will was final and eternal. Destiny was the language of soothsayers and heretics.

         "You be mentioned in prophecies Valimaar."

         "How do you know my name?"

         She turned away from him, busying herself with keeping the wood burning. "Rakin told me much of you. He said that you be the one to stop the darkness," she said, blowing on the fire.

         What was the darkness? If Father Gordon knew of all of this, why didn't he tell her? He seemed so sincere when he spoke of the book. Why didn't he speak of this woman?

         "I be seeing your spirit, and I know that you be the one. I didn't believe my uncle until now. He told me you'd come."

         This was spinning far beyond her understanding. Father Gordon knew all of this was going to happen, but how? Even if all of this was in the book, how did he know that they would come here?

         "Tell me what is happening Wytch!"

         Lady Elaine could feel the flames in his voice. The torches in his eyes burned with intensity, and the muscles in his body tightened as he turned to face her.

         "It be the beginning of the end."

         "What makes Valimaar so important?"

         Jazira turned to answer the booming knock on the door, it sounded as though whoever was outside wanted to beat it down. Valimaar pulled his pistol and aimed it at the entrance.

         As it swung open, three hooded men stepped through. Who were they, more Wytches?

         "These be the last of us, Abbadin, Nijal, and Shahir. We've been waiting for you for a long time."