Heresy: The Book of Mammon

Chapter 23

Chapter 23



Lady Elaine sat silent at the table in the cabin. Her hands still trembled as she stared at nothing. The thought of killing another weighed upon her as she sat. Her stomach churned and her palms were slick with cold sweat. She was a killer – now and forever. There was no taking the action back. There was no reaching through the voids and pulling the dead back to the world of life. What was done, was done.

She knew that if she had not acted, the first officer would be dead. That however, was but one possibility. Rialev, Judaes, and Papal, could have very well stepped in to stop the madness on the quarter deck, but would they have stopped it in time? If she had not acted, perhaps the circumstances she found herself in would be very different. They could very well be on a course for Varshir at this moment. Then again, they could all be dead. What was done, was done.

The knock on the door sounded as hollow as her spirit. Her eyes looked up through the shadowy corners of the cabin. Iron creaked on itself as the door opened. The wood scraped on the floor in disagreement as the door skidded to a stop. Footsteps knocked on the floorboards as she sat. She did not bother to look behind. She could not face anyone now that she was a killer. They all saw her do it. They all knew what she was.

“I’m quite proud of you.” His voice was harsh and abrasive as it fell upon her ears. The last thing she needed was council from an Expurgator.
She shook her head. “Proud that I killed someone?”

Rialev walked round to the opposite side of the table and plopped himself in the wood chair. The wood squeaked in high pitch agony as his weight settled. He looked at her with a slight smile on his face. “I’m proud that you took action.”

She shrugged. “One of you would have stopped it had I not done anything.” She couldn’t bear to think of it. The blood still stained her hands, and it would forever.

“What you did was no crime or act of evil my lady. You did what you thought was right.”

What she thought was right? Who was he to tell her such a thing? She didn’t know if it was right or wrong. The thought of killing another man never sat well with her, for other solutions were almost always within one’s grasp. Killing was a solution for unreasonable people. It was left as an option for one who could not find answers in the shadows. She was not one of those people until now.

“What I did, killed a man.” Her fingernails dug into her palms.

“And saved another.”

Regardless if it had saved a man or not, it was not an even trade. Ending one life to preserve another did not seem right at all. Regardless if it was true or not, the fact remained. Someone would no longer breathe the breath of life.

“If that is how you want to put it.”

“It is.”

She shook her head. She felt the urge to strike him where he sat. His words always prodded at her the wrong way. He was rather skilled in instigating. “This is not the way to solve things, Rialev. Perhaps in your eyes everything is justified, but I’m not you.”

He rested his hands on the table as he leaned in. “Indeed you’re not. You didn’t have a choice. If Captain Azim were still alive, we’d be on our way to Varshir right now. Perhaps we’d be in chains.”

She had a choice. She could have let him live. Knocked him out, disarmed him, anything would have done better than shooting him. “He was acting as he was ordered.”

“He was acting like a blind fool that obeys commands simply for the sake of obeying.” His voice carried small flames as he spoke.

Her fist smashed on the table. “He was commanded to take the ship to Varshir! Who are we to determine what is right and wrong in the military? We are not Wytches, and we are not soldiers! We’re refugees, nothing more!”

“Is that what we’re supposed to tell Tarkan? Lokken? Valimaar? Tell me, is that going to be our excuse when Ecclesia burns every city beyond its borders?”
She shook her head. His ignorance was like glass scraping against her flesh.

“We have a chance my lady. It’s a small chance, but it’s a hell of a lot better than we had when we started. Valimaar is alive, and we still have friends in Ecclesia. Are we going to throw this all away because of your conscience?”

“I don’t know! The only thing I can say, is things could have went differently.”

“You’re right.” He stood from his seat. “We could have went along with it all right from the beginning. We could have let Ecclesia have what they wanted with no protest. It was our duty to follow the Arbiter’s wishes after all. Perhaps life will be better when the devil reigns over the earth again.”

He stepped around the table once more. “Maybe if we’d simply given them what they wanted, they wouldn’t have killed so many people. Maybe if we just listened, that plague that they unleashed, wouldn’t have claimed so many innocent lives.”

His footsteps echoed through the cabin as he stepped through the door. “You’re right my lady. Things could have went differently. Maybe Valimaar thinks the same thing.”

The door scraped against the wood floor and shut.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and she curled her head in her arms upon the table. She could only imagine what Valimaar was thinking. She knew, he did not feel as she did. He killed men and women, many of them were for the wrong reasons, but still he carried on. The reasons for the way he was were obscure to her, but she knew that his zeal never died. He would not feel as she did right now. He’d have told her the same thing Rialev did.

Still, she was no killer. It was not in her abilities to forget such an act. She spent months with the Expurgators, and still, their ways had never trickled to her. War was a terrible thing, that much she understood. Regardless if she wanted it or not, killing would happen with or without her approval. What fueled the hearts of men was little more than a blur. People fought for several reasons, this war however, was different. This was not for borders, or for riches, or for love. This war was fought for humanity. Perhaps they were fighting against the right enemy, but were they with the right ally? She could never know.

All she knew was killing would continue forever. It was an instinct of man. One that was more of a stain than a trait, but it was there nonetheless. There was nothing she could do about it except continue on. Blood would forever stain her hands until the end of her days, but perhaps Rialev was right. She did what she needed to do. They could not afford to throw away any hope that remained, and what little that did remain was slipping from their grasp. The captain would have taken it away from them to pursue his orders. She did what she had to. Still, it haunted her.

People often times tried justifying killing. She was doing the same thing now. She shook the thought from her head and focused on the one thing that remained. Valimaar. He was alive. Somewhere in Ecclesia he was held captive. Regardless if the prophecies spoke of him or not, they would have him back, though she did not know how.

Surely, the Expurgators would help her. They cared for their brother. He’d grown to something more than brethren to them. He was their rock. They looked to him for answers, and he was gone. Surely, they would help her get him back. If not for her, then they would do so for themselves.
They needed him. She needed him. The world needed him.

Whatever Father Gordon saw in him, was more than reason enough to fight. He was important, in ways that she may never understand, but he was nonetheless. She knew he was possessed by ancient evils, but he did everything in his power to keep them at bay. He was strong, unlike her. He would think her conflictions to be little more than a nuisance. Whatever he fought against, waged war on his spirit and body with each passing day. That much, she knew. Possession was a terrible thing, and she’d seen it once before in the Cardinal City.

She recalled the old woman outside Jazira’s house. She remembered how she whispered dark and terrible things into their ears. She remembered seeing the thing in her eyes. Whatever evil dwelled in the spirit world, was not to be taken lightly. Still, he fought on, and who was she to question their motives of killing someone? They fought against a great enemy, despite the fact that they were outmatched.

Valimaar stepped through the gateway, knowing perhaps, that he would never return. He did it for his own reasons, but she knew that he did it to save lives. If he killed others in the process, she knew that whatever reason he had, was a good one.

Ithaca will keep him safe.

The words echoed through the back of her mind. Rialev had told her those very words the day he stepped beyond her reach.

Her eyes fell upon the book that sat in the center of the table. It was the same book that she had ignored for the past month. It was the book that Father Gordon had wanted her to translate. Ithaca was mentioned in its pages. More than once. She took a deep breath, and opened the cover. Was Ithaca the one that dwelled within him? She read through the translations. Her fingers turned pages almost faster than she could read.

Her hands slowed as she turned to the passage she’d found before he stepped through the gate. It was a long prophecy. One that stuck out to her that day. It mentioned Ithaca many times. He was one of the eight princes. One of the Nine Sons. She blinked through the haze of darkness that clouded her vision as she read. Her breath was ragged and labored, for it was clear now. It was Ithaca that dwelled within him. Ithaca the Daemon. Ithaca the prince. The son of Azaal. Her eyes burned as tears streaked her cheeks. He waged a battle with one of the princes.

She closed the book and leaned back in her chair. She rubbed her temples as she let out a heavy sigh and shut her eyes to it all. He was so strong. Perhaps he thought the same thing as she, but now she knew he didn’t. The fabric of his spirit was being ripped apart by one of the princes. He fought to preserve his life, and perhaps the others that were fighting the same battle. Whoever they were, she only hoped they had the same strength as he.

He stepped through the gate to separate himself with her. He knew that he put her in danger simply by existing.

She questioned her actions on the quarter deck, but now she understood. Just as he fought to protect her, she would fight to protect him. If it meant killing one who stood in the way, then she had no choice. He risked everything by stepping through the gate, and she could do no less. Lokken would stand against the might of Ecclesia, and they were the only chance of victory. Without Xalimfal, they would fall.

She took one last breath, and let exhaustion take her into the darkness.

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

Sounds of muffled ruckus roused her from sleep. Her eyes opened to an unwelcoming darkness that swallowed the room. The last of the candles were burnt out, and their remnants were little more than forgotten comforts. Lady Elaine’s eyes scanned the expanse of the room, and she curled herself beneath the covers.

Covers? Where was she? She sat upright on the soft bed and searched about. There was little more than dull gray light that shone through the stained glass window at the stern. She was in the officers’ cabins. How did she get here?

She focused on the small disk that lay upon the round table, and beside the old book. Dust settled around the expanse of them. She realized, it was her room, well it was her room for this trip. She was no officer, but they accommodated her and the Expurgators as such. That at least was a small comfort. She did not want to sleep among the lecherous eyes of the crew. She always felt their stares on her as she walked the deck of the ship. Still, the mystery of her coming to be in this room tormented her, but she brushed it aside.

Outside, she knew darkness shrouded the sea below and the skies above. She’d been asleep for some time. It was a welcoming rest, and one that she had not seen in some time, for she found it difficult to sleep since Valimaar left. News of him however, eased the coarse feel of it all, and she thought that perhaps she relaxed a little. Still, he was not safe, but he was alive. Alive was far better than dead.

Her stomach rumbled as she stood from the bed. How long had it been since she ate? She could not remember, but she knew it was days. The hollowness in her stomach gave birth to sharp and intense pains. The shot through her as she stood and she hunched over clasping her belly. She had to fight it off. She would find food eventually, but for the moment, more important matters required her attention. She took short steps across the old wood floor, and rested herself in the single chair that stood at the table.

She looked about and took deep, ragged breaths. She hated how tight the room was. It felt as though the walls were ever closing in on her. Still, it was better than sleeping with the crew. Her pistol lay upon the table near the book and the disc. She’d not noticed it before. Someone must have brought it to her while she slept, for she remembered dropping it upon the quarter deck before retreating into the cabin.

It made sense now. Someone carried her here, with her pistol. The same pistol that only hours ago, had taken a man’s life. The thought still weighed heavily upon her, but what was done, was done. It was time to forget it and move on.

Her stomach growled once more, and with it, came more dull pains. She felt weightless - not euphoric, but rather thin. There was little strength left in her. She stood once more, and made her way out of the cloistered confines of the room.

Beyond the doorway, a small tray of dates and cooked meat sat upon the table she’d slept at earlier. Rialev sat silent in the chair as he watched her. Though he was the last person she wanted to speak to, the smell of food was welcoming. She eased herself into the chair across from him and it creaked in agony. He motioned to the food and gave her a small smile. “I managed to round this up for you.”

“Thank you.”

The dates filled her mouth with sweet rapture as she chewed. “You forgive me then?” She did not bother to swallow before asking the question.
“Of course.” He picked one of the fruits from the tray and flicked it into his mouth. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

She shook her head. “You were right. I can’t let these things get to me.” She stabbed at a piece of meat and bit a small piece. It was moist and tender. The taste was unfamiliar to her, but she didn’t care. After days of not eating, it was the most lavish meal she’d ever had.

“We understand how you feel my lady. You’re not the only one that lost him.”

That much was certain. She knew that they all missed him, though they did not voice it.

“He and I have had our disagreements, but he is one of us. He is our brother.”

She nodded as she chewed on the meat.

“What do you suggest we do?”

That was an odd question. “What do you mean?”

“When we arrive in Xalimfal, where do we go from there?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t abandon him or Abbadin. I’m not going to request that we reroute to Ecclesia simply for the sake of my feelings. I won’t put Lokken in danger.”

He nodded. “We have an agreement then.”

An agreement? She hadn’t agreed on anything.

“We have to get him out of there my lady. Whether or not he’s the one to stop all of this, I will not let him die in the hands of the enemy.”

She understood his feelings. She felt the same way after all. Still, she had no idea how to get to him, if it could be done at all. She had no idea how they could get to Ecclesia without detection. From what she understood, the entire border was heavily guarded. The lands surrounding its borders were conquered save for Lokken. She could not afford the time to return to the desert and go northward. Such a trek would take weeks. There had to be a way.

Thoughts of old maps poured through her memories as she tried to remember the lands around Ecclesia. Tarkan lied to the far eastern borders. It was a land of heavy forest and rocky terrain. Avoiding detection in such a land would be easy enough, but surviving the landscape would be altogether different. Still, if they were to make their way into the borders, stealth was certainly their best option.

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

Moonlight glowed in pale white light in the skies above. Mist froze in the cold air, and it twisted and spun like small whirlpools of smoke. Ice dotted the dark sea below as they pushed through the dense mist. It was a fog like she’d never seen. It was quite heavy to the point that little could be seen, but the moon illuminated the darkness below. All about, the smoky mist glowed in the moonlight in eerie, pale clouds.

Below, waves rolled on silent black. The world was quiet in the eastern seas. They hung above the world in quiet awe. She leaned over the bow of the ship and squinted her eyes through the dense fog. Nothing. Nothing could be seen in the dark expanse of the night. Rialev and Papal stood on either side of her. They too were as silent as the night.

Bitter cold licked at her skin, and she shivered beneath the thing layer of clothing. They had replaced her robes with a more fitting attire. The two of them told her that combat was no place for flowing robes. Instead, she now wore the blue velvet waistcoat, and the tight white pants that all the Avians adorned themselves. Though they were quite regal in appearance, they offered little against the harsh elements of the northern and eastern skies. She knew though, that they were desert folk, and the heavy clothing of the north was not at all comfortable in harsh sunlight.

How she longed for a cloak, or a simple fur blanket. She knew though, that these men carried no such luxuries. Papal and Rialev were shivering against the cold air themselves. Though they found themselves in much heavier clothing, it was a cold like no other. The Ecclesian winters held little against it. This cold was otherworldly.

The crew of the ship busied themselves with their work. All about, men pulled at ropes, and tied knots she’d never seen. Others stood high on the masts that stabbed through the great leather bladder. Their hands were close to their mouths as they tried in vain to warm their hands. Men hugged the iron steam pipes that hissed in quiet tune. What little warmth that was to be had, was stolen away by the ocean air.

How could anyone live in such conditions? She knew that they still were not over the land of Xalimfal, but surely it could be no more hospitable. She knew little in the ways of weather patterns, but she understood, the farther into the seas they ventured, the colder it became.

Wood creaked in the gentle wind that blew at her back. The ship groaned in quiet agony in the cold air. She had seen storms and harsh winds, and she knew that creaking was little to worry about. The engineering of the Lokken dirigibles was something to be admired, and regardless of how much the wood groaned and creaked, she knew that it would take much more than drafts of wind to bring it down.

Lamps flickered in the dark, and sent cascading shadows dancing about the deck of the ship. She turned round and saw the intense light of the lantern glowing in the dark night. It hung shortly above the head of the first officer. He stood resolute in the cold onslaught. His hands gripped the wheel as he stared out at the black expanse of the night sky.

She walked down the deck. Her footsteps landed with gentle thuds against the wood beneath. The heavy heels of her boots knocked as though they were knocking on a door. They were uncomfortable boots. They were tall and black. Her feet rested in them, but her toes felt as though they were crushed in the hard leather. As she walked, the cold black leather rubbed the linen pants against her calves. It felt as though her skin were made of sand.

She felt the harsh glare of scrutiny as she walked. Eyes fell upon her from all angles. Hushed whispers echoed through the quiet night, and she knew that they were speaking of her. They feared her. Though it was an interesting feeling to be feared, it wasn’t at all pleasant. She felt as though she were being treated like a stray dog; one that had long since overstayed its welcome.

Their stares followed her. She felt them burning through her flesh. Still, she ignored it. Regardless of what they thought of her, she did what she had to do.

The first officer watched her as she made her way to him. He stood still against the gentle breeze. His hands were white as he held the wheel.
“My lady.” He nodded to her as she walked up the quarter deck.

“First Officer.” She returned the nod.

“Call me Fasad.” His eyes returned to the night.

She smiled. “Very well. Do you have any maps that I might take a look at Fasad?”

His eyes shifted back to her. “Why?”

“I’d like to see what we’re sailing into.” It was a lie. She didn’t care what they were sailing into. All she cared about was finding a way into Ecclesia.
He nodded. “There be many maps in the captain’s cabin.” He pointed behind him to the large double wood doors.

“Thank you.”

“You be most welcome.” His hand returned to the wheel.

She began walking toward the cabin but his voice stopped her.

“I respect what you did.” He motioned for one of the deck hands to take the wheel. He stepped aside as the young man gripped it and stepped toward her. “I be owing you my life.”

She shook her head. “We owe you ours.”

“The crew never liked the captain. He be a rough man. Arrogant.”

Was that why they didn’t stop her?

“We be knowing we need help. We trust you.”

She smiled a light smile. “Thank you Fasad.”

He returned to his post.

It was comforting to know that at least one person was on their side. The Avians were intriguing individuals, and to have their support was quite reassuring. She took a deep breath of the cold night air, and pushed open the doors.