Apostasy: The Book of Ithaca

Chapter 14

Chapter XIV



         Adramelech opened his eyes. Around him in a circle stood men adorned in scarlet robes. Gems sparkled like the distant stars in the haze of his vision. He saw an arched stone ceiling above him. Cobwebs dangled and fluttered in the draft. It was so cold. He never felt cold before.

         A tall bony man stood over him and stared into his waking eyes. His eyes held no life within them. It was the first man he had seen in a millennium, and he felt the burning flames of vendetta coursing through him. He was with the scarlet ones. He recalled their treachery at the throne. He recalled their betrayal.

         ”Rise Adramelech.”

         He felt his muscles tighten and his body lifted itself. He felt himself hovering upon the cold air of the room. His limbs did not answer his commands of movement. He had no control of himself.

         ”You have been awakened.”

         Who was speaking? He could not move. He was at the mercy of his captors.

         ”Look at the world once more Daemon. See it with your new eyes.”

         The haze had passed and he saw their faces. They were old; wrinkled. Their scarlet robes swayed in the gentle drafts that poured through the heavy door. Before him, a round table sat in the center of the room. A human; a child lay upon the shining surface in a crimson pool. Her spirit was drained of life.

         ”The princes have returned Adramelech.”

         The princes. How he despised them, and their father. He remembered what they did to him. He remembered the heat of the furnace, and the jaws of the beast. He felt its jagged teeth ripping his flesh away as his eyes darted about the men.

         ”Welcome to Ecclesia. I am Cardinal Celestine.”

         ”You are a betrayer.”

         ”It’s been a long time since you’ve seen the world of men Daemon. Things are different now. We no longer follow the old ways.”

         ”I will not simply forgive you because things have changed. Your treachery has been remembered through the ages, human. My kind will not forgive you for you transgressions.”

         He felt warmth. His voice carried the flames of Hell. If he could only move his body, they would be dead. All of them.

         Celestine motioned about the room. “Do you remember this world Daemon? Do you remember the feel of its grain beneath your hands? The warmth of the sun? The smell of the earth? Do you remember the war?”

         He snarled. “I remember men running away from their death like cowards. I remember fire, and pain.”

         ”We are not the ones that betrayed you, Adramelech. We wish to see you return to the position that was stolen from you.”

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

         Lady Elaine looked down at the hobbled old woman and she felt her blood grow cold. She had not seen the early stages of the plague until now. This was nothing like what she witnessed in Duraine.

         Jagged blue lines streaked across the woman’s skin as though someone were drawing on her with a quill. Her flesh was a color that looked as though it were rotting.

         Her chest rose and fell as she lay flat on the floor. Her breaths came with a wheeze that was like a bird dying in pain. It was sickening.

         Valimaar stayed close to the woman with his hand on his pistol. After seeing what the plague did to the people of Duraine, she couldn’t blame him for being cautious. Between moments of his attention shifting from the woman, to the nothing in the air, she watched as he murmured inaudible things. She wasn’t sure who he was speaking to, if he were speaking at all, but it was troubling.

         He seemed so distant. As if he were being pulled away, not from her, but from the world of the living. The things that they had seen were perhaps reason for his changes in behavior, but any conversation would have been welcome.

         Jazira and Abbadin busied themselves with the brewing of stew. Though the woman looked as though she were freezing from the inside out, she doubted that the warm broth would help her situation. Still, it was comforting to see strangers helping strangers.

         The poor take care of their own. Perhaps there was some good left in the world after all.

         The two silent Wytches sat and stared at the unfortunate soul. Their eyes told countless stories as they glistened in the firelight. The interest that they showed in her ailment was troubling. It was not an interest of curiosity or contempt of her misfortunes, but rather a dread fascination. They were vile men.

         “She has little chance of survival,” Jazira said as she leaned in to look at the woman.

         “She has no chance,” Valimaar replied.

         “How dare you abandon someone in need,” Lady Elaine said.

         “You saw what happened in Duraine! You saw what we had to do!”

         She shook her head. “We shouldn’t abandon her.”

         Valimaar pulled his pistol. “I will stay with her until she is no longer herself.”

         She couldn’t believe his words, though he had seen what happened to the plague victims; they both had. She knew that there was little that any of them could do for her, for the plague was upon her. Eventually, she would fall to the darkness, and become one of the geists. Eventually, more of Ecclesia would fall as well. It would be a travesty. Perhaps the Ecclesiarchy lied to everyone, but there were many in the city who were innocent. Though every man of the world pursued his own purposes and only claimed to be devout when it served his will, she knew that they deserved better.

         It was a terrible thing to see everything fall apart as it had. It had clearly taken its toll on Valimaar. He was different now. He was no longer the man she knew, but more resolved, and angry. What little conversation he offered was lessening now that everything was happening as it was. The plague was here, and soon the Daemons would be as well. There was no denying that they could do nothing against it, for they scarcely knew where to begin. With or without the book, it was clear that Ecclesia would fall.

         She looked down at the woman that shivered upon the cold floor. It looked as though the air sucked the warmth from her flesh as one slurps stew from a bowl. Winter was here, but she knew that was not the problem. This woman’s spirit drained itself.

         As a Prelate, you will come to know the light well. You are more than a priest of the Presbyterate, and more than a priest of the Ecclesiarchy. You are the light in the darkness. The Prelates are our beacons to the people, and though there are lesser priests that shall come to know the people as a whole, it is you that will come to know the light. You will speak with it, and it shall speak with you. You will know it and all its many colors. Go Prelate, bring it to the people that no shadow shall ever be cast on the people of Ecclesia.

         The final words of her communion rang in her ears as she watched the shadows cast over the woman. They were all lies. Every light cast a shadow, and they found this woman. She shook her head and tightened her grip on the relic in her hands. As she stepped closer, her knuckles grew stiff. Valimaar stared at her as she knelt down to the woman. She held the box like it was her own child, cradled in one arm, with fingers locked around its sharp corners. They dug into her skin like teeth, but she ignored the discomfort. She would suffer a thousand pains to see this plague at an end. Her sweat was as ice when she placed her hand upon the clammy brow of the person that lay upon the ground. It was more than simple sweat. It was sticky like honey. Her fingers tingled as though she cast them into snow until they were entirely numb. The box in her arm felt as though it weighed a hundred times more than it had. As she stroked the moist, silver hair of the woman, the box began to vibrate. It hummed like a chord on a harp. First low and resonant, then a pitch like that of the greatest fanfares.

         The breath of life seeped back into the woman that lay on the floor. Air swirled in a cold vortex above her mouth and poured in like water from a pitcher. Her breath returned from the ragged and shallow breathing to long, comfortable gulps of air. The streaks of blue in her grayed skin faded, and the color returned. She had stopped shivering when she removed her hand from her brow.

         Eyes opened, and rather than the black hollows she had seen before, they held a glow of spirit and life. Gray faded to white faded to green irises and black pupils. Her eyes darted about as she drew in gulps of the cold winter air. Her eyes focused on Elaine and a careworn smile crept across her mouth. Her head rose, and the others darted to help her. Valimaar cupped a hand behind her head to aid her, but she was soon upright with no trouble.

         “I had a dream about you.” Her eyes focused on her, and shimmered with silvery tears. “I was in the dark. It was a dark like no other. It wasn’t night, and it wasn’t like being in a closet, but darkness like liquid black.”

         She shared a look with Valimaar. His eyes told her enough. He was astonished.

         “I was alone in the cold. My voice carried for eternity as I called for help in the void. I could hear the echoes of others. They screamed and shouted about in surprise at something, but they could not hear my calls.” A tear streamed down her wrinkled cheek. “I ran and ran through the darkness, but I saw nothing but more black. I curled into a ball, and waited for it all to take me. Black fingers wrapped around my body, and my blood froze. I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t see. Whispers in the dark spoke to me of terrible things, and I knew that I was going to die.”

         She placed her hands on her shoulders. “You came to me. You were the light in the darkness. You came as though you were aflame, and the black fingers retreated. The whispers were silenced, and you called out to me. When you did, the darkness rushed away, and I could see again. We stood on a sunbathed field in high grass upon the tallest hill. Trees stretched forth their boughs toward the heavens, and golden rays of sun streamed down upon us. An eagle flew above through white clouds, and stars glistened in the daylight as though it were as dark as night. It clutched a serpent in its talons. It was black as night and spoke fiery words. You placed a hand on mine, and we flew high like the eagle over snow-capped mountains, and dark, verdant forests. Blue rivers, and crystal lakes blurred by as we shot through the heavens. I saw deserts and grass, trees and rocks. I saw the entire world, and you showed it to me. You brought me here in this place, and I saw myself lying upon the floor. Others were circled around me, and I knew that I was dying. You told me to come back to myself, and you embraced me before saying farewell. I returned to my body and awoke, and now here you are.”

         The cold touch of tears caressed her cheeks as she gazed at the woman returned from the darkness. Warmth filled her arm that cradled the box. It hummed with energy as she gripped it in her hand. The sharp corners still dug into her flesh, and she released her grip on it.

         “That be something I never expected.” Jazira stepped closer to it, and inspected it as though she were a teacher checking a student’s work.

         “Indeed.” Valimaar rested his hand on the pistol as he shot suspicious glares at Jazira. “Tell me, Wytch, if this box has the power to heal the plague, why is it that it should be in Lokken?”

         Jazira turned to him and looked down at his pistol. “I did not know it could do that. This be a mysterious relic of many dark secrets. I only be knowing that they want it.”

         Valimaar nodded. “And with good reason, look what it does. It does exactly what Celestine says it does, it will go to the Administratum.”

         Lady Elaine recoiled backward. “It will do no such thing!”

         He shook his head at her. “Look! Look what it can do! It saved this woman, and it can save others. You would send it to the deserts, and watch as our home is destroyed?”

         “You saw what it said in that page!” She stomped her foot on the ground as she wrapped both arms around the box. The corners bit into her skin like serpent fangs. “Father Gordon told me that Azaal’s servants want it! We can’t let them have it. If we give it to Celestine, he can perhaps stop this plague, but what if he doesn’t, Valimaar? What if he wants it because it can stop the plague? He can just as well keep it away from us because of that!”

         “Vicar Forane! As Executor of the Expurgators, I command you to surrender that relic to me, or be charged for Heresy against the Divinity!”

         She locked her arms around it, and backed into the corner. “How dare you speak to me like that!” She could not believe he said it. He did not trust her after all, he was nothing more than an Ecclesiarchy slave, too blind and ignorant to see the truth before his eyes. They held the key to stopping the plague, and he would willingly surrender it to the Cardinal.

         “I dare speak to anyone in such a way that would dare stand against the will of Azul.” He held his hand upward and motioned for her to give it to him.
The two silent men lunged at him. He slammed his elbow into the nose of one, and as the other wrapped his arms around him, he pulled his pistol. Valimaar backed the man against a wall, and wrenched himself free. The pistol rested on the man’s nose. “Do not stand in my way, Wytches!”

         Jazira and Abbadin backed away from the wild man. His eyes were aflame as he glared at them. They held their arms up wide eyed and trembling.
“Down on your knees. Now!”

         They did as he commanded. The woman that she just saved shrank into a corner, and covered her head.

“Forgive me, my lady, but it must be done.” He aimed the pistol at her, and held his hand out once more.

         She wiped tears from her eyes as she stared down the barrel of the pistol that her own bodyguard pointed at her. Father Gordon warned her of Azaal’s servants, and she was too blind to see the one that stood with her.

         “Give me the relic.”

“No.”

         He cocked the hammer. “Do not make me do this. Do you not see what you’re doing? You would surrender our only chance at stopping this plague? The Heretic has clouded your judgment, Vicar Forane. He’s convinced you that our salvation lies in the hands of other heretics!”

         “He’s told me the truth you ignorant fool!” She slid along the wall, away from the monster that stood before her. “How else would he have known all this would come to pass? How, after six years, would his letters written before his imprisonment have found us, unless he knew?”

         Valimaar’s brow creased, and the green within his eyes erupted into demonic fire. “Because he planned it all from the beginning along with the Wytches! He was one of them! Regardless of the heresy, we have to look at this through our own eyes, my lady. The Ecclesiarchy fights to stop this plague, it fights to stop this awakening. This box is the key, and you hold it away from them!”

         “You will have to kill me if you want this box.” She stopped backing away from him and stood in defiance, still as a stone. She would die before she handed it over to Ecclesia.

         He shook his head and clenched his fist. “Azul forgive me.” He drew in a heavy, ragged breath and took aim.

         She shut her eyes. It would come to this. The one that protected her would be her betrayer. Everything she’d fought for, everything she struggled for, and everything that she stood for, was a lie, and now even his vow to protect her, was a lie.

         Cackles erupted from the corner where the woman stood. Insane laughter burst through the heavy air that weighed against her chest. She opened her eyes, and in the shadowy corner of the ramshackle of a house, among the trembling wytches, the woman bent double. Flesh corroded as though years of death spanned only a few seconds. The streaks of blue returned to her skin, and her hair thinned as she laughed. Her knobbed fingers ripped at wiry hair, and handfuls ripped away from her scalp. The ripping sounds turned her stomach, and she tasted vomit in the back of her throat. Valimaar turned to the woman.

         The laughter stopped as he pointed the pistol at her. She stood from her hunched position, blanketed in the shadow. Her breaths were sharp and ragged as empty silence filled the room. Sunlight dulled to a dreary, gray half-light like a ray of sun shrouded by overcast clouds. Shadows swelled about the hovel until black consumed it like the fall of midnight with no moon. As her ragged head looked up, two eyes burned like yellow flames in the dark, and thunder rumbled in the heavens above.