A Burning Sea

by Theodore Brun

  ‘Fifteen, yes. . . How would you like to double it?’

  Domnicus reached up with his taper to light the last of the three candles standing on the altar. The air was already heavy with incense and the musky silks of his black robes. But apart from him, and Lilla and Gerutha, the church was empty, and the gathering gloom of evening held sway over all but one of the eight apses that formed the great marble circle.

  Domnicus had fallen in with their plan willingly enough. As priest to the imperial family, he was uniquely placed to help them. But it wasn’t his office alone that made him want to protect the emperor. ‘The hand of God is on that man,’ he had told them, the conviction in his eyes leaving little room to contradict him. ‘His rise to the throne makes no sense unless the Lord wanted him there. He’s been a man of violence all his life. A soldier and a general. But the path opened up ahead of him like the parting of the Red Sea. He is the right man for this time. The chosen man.’

  ‘I know nothing of your Lord,’ Lilla replied. ‘But I know something of your enemies. They must be stopped. Too many innocent people have already died.’

  ‘They will be, my lady. Thanks to you. Thanks to both of you.’ He smiled and squeezed Gerutha’s hand in acknowledgement.

  One of the doors on the opposite side of the octagonal hall opened, sending an echo around the walls. Three men entered. It took Lilla only a moment to recognize all three. She hurried across the church to meet them.

  ‘Queen Lilla.’ Leo seemed disarmed by her appearance. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here—’

  ‘Forgive me, Majesty. But it was too important to delay. And too confidential.’

  ‘I am outnumbered,’ he chuckled, eyeing all four. ‘Surrounded by barbarians. Should I be afraid?’

  ‘It’s among your own that you must look to the viper at your breast.’

  ‘The city is slithering with vipers. I have my protection, as you can see.’

  ‘I’m not talking about the city. I mean someone far closer to you.’

  ‘Who?’ he frowned.

  ‘Lord Katāros.’

  And he listened, his face stone, while she told him all she knew. Once she had finished, he stared into empty space and raised an eyebrow. ‘And just what am I to do with this. . . revelation?’

  ‘Seize him. What else? The man’s a traitor.’

  ‘On what grounds? Because you and your servant have drawn a link between two otherwise unconnected things? There is no proof against him. All is circumstantial.’

  ‘As the proof against me was circumstantial?’ she retorted. ‘It was enough to hold me for weeks.’

  The emperor grunted. ‘True, I gave him too much licence. But I need more than what you have given me to prove him a traitor. This knife you speak of – even if you had it – how could you connect it with him? I don’t know what knives the man possesses. Do you?’

  ‘No. Of course, I. . .’ She looked in appeal to Erlan but he could offer her no help.

  ‘Silanos confessed. So did many others. Am I to think they were all falsely obtained?’

  ‘If obtained by Katāros, yes!’

  ‘They’re dead. The whole city saw justice done.’

  ‘That wasn’t justice. They saw a lie. His lie! Which makes mock of you and justice and all that your precious empire stands for!’

  ‘And still you have no proof,’ he said.

  Lilla had no answer.

  ‘Look, Queen Lilla, even if you’re right, it’s too late now. The bets are laid. The game has begun. And once this is done –’ he waved his hand at the altar – ‘and if you’re quite finished. . . I have a war to win. Now then, Father. Let’s get on with this.’

  Erlan gave Lilla a sympathetic look but it only made her feel more thwarted. ‘We’ll await you outside,’ Erlan said to the emperor.

  ‘No. You join me. All of you.’

  ‘But we do not share your faith,’ replied Erlan.

  ‘Well, you’re fighting for it! And to fight without the blessing of the king of kings would be folly indeed.’

  ‘The king of kings?’ Erlan for a moment looked bewildered. ‘But you are the king of kings.’

  ‘Me?’ Leo laughed. ‘Even I don’t have the pretension to call myself that. It is Christ who is the king of kings, my friend, not I. We all stand under him.’

  ‘Amen,’ said Domnicus. ‘The Christ is Lord of Lords and King of Kings. Captain of the mighty hosts of God. Come, my friends. Let us take our part in him now. We drink his blood and eat his flesh.’

  ‘His blood?’ echoed Erlan, his voice a whisper. ‘How can you drink the blood of a man long dead?’

  ‘He is not dead,’ returned Domnicus with an enigmatic smile. ‘He is alive. Come – all is ready,’ and he ushered them forward.

  Lilla saw the change in Erlan, the sudden fear, but could not account for it. As if some unseen terror had stricken his heart. Instantly she forgot all her own frustrations. She reached out and touched his hand. ‘Are you all right?’

  He shook his head slowly, but answered, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Approach, friends,’ invited Domnicus, and the emperor was already at the steps of the altar, flicking aside the hem of his cloak to kneel before it.

  ‘So we do this?’ she whispered in Norse.

  ‘Aye,’ Erlan murmured uncertainly, but even in the dim light, she saw a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. ‘We do.’

  Erlan knelt with the others, fearing at every moment a repeat of that waking nightmare of cascading fire that had broken over him in the Great Church. But nothing like that occurred. The priest was running through his liturgy, and Erlan could only half-hear his words, was only half-listening, saying ‘yes’ and ‘no’ with the others. He felt hot but not burning as before. He was sweating but his wound did not bleed. Instead it was his heart that burned in his chest, his mind untethered from his surroundings, flying from moment to moment through his past – a chain of faces, every one of which he knew. The young spearman on the Norsk fell under a crimson sky; Konur’s arrogant sneer; Inga’s soft beauty, her skin white as winter; his father’s ragged mouth and wretched tears; Kai, one eye a ruin of darkness, blood daubed down his hollow cheek; Adalrik, grey tongue, blue lips; Sigurd’s raging eyes; Vassili’s final smile, ablaze with unearthly light. Death after death after death. . .

  He opened his eyes, unwilling to see any more. Instead he looked up at the golden chalice that Domnicus was holding aloft now, reciting some Christian babble over it. It was wine, only wine. There it was in the flask. And yet he felt in him both a fierce curiosity to taste it, and behind that a terror. Desire and repulsion. Love and hate.

  Domnicus gave it first to the emperor who took a sip and passed back the cup then bowed his head. After him, Lilla and then Gerutha, and then it was his turn, and he was tipping the cup back, straining against something in him that wanted to smash it on the floor.

  Too late, he saw the purple fire flickering on the surface of the liquid in the bottom of the cup, too late it rushed into his open mouth, too late he swallowed down the liquid fire, feeling it pour into his body. . .

  Lilla had watched him take the cup, curious at what had come over him. But then in the next moment, he dashed the cup from his hands, flung himself backwards and started choking on the floor. It was shocking, startling, but immediately she was on her knees beside him. ‘Help him,’ she begged. ‘He’s choking! Help him!’

  His eyes were wide and staring as he clawed at his own throat and then, with horribly slow deliberation, they rolled back in his skull. All of them apart from her stood frozen in shock. She managed to pull him onto his side but as she did a thick jet of vomit suddenly spewed from his throat in a foul, glutinous gush across the stones.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she cried. Domnicus was the first to respond. He was next to her. Erlan’s body was convulsing violently, his skull thudding against the stone. ‘Put something under his head, quickly,’ ordered the priest. Then Gerutha was there, her shawl scrunched into a ball – she
tried to wind it around his thrashing head but his movements were too violent. ‘Hold him. Hold him!’

  Einar was on his knees, his big fists pressing down on his friend, locking his shoulders against the floor to stop him doing himself worse harm. Then Erlan’s mouth opened, so wide he looked like a snake dislocating its jaw. It was obscene. And suddenly a voice shrieked from inside him, filled with such rage and pain. A voice, yes, but not his own. It was something inhuman, something evil. Erlan’s arm broke free, he seized Einar by the collar and flung him away as though he was made of goose down.

  ‘Get the cross,’ Domnicus instructed Gerutha. ‘There! The one on the altar.’ Gerutha ran to fetch it. ‘There’s a demon in him, I think. I’ve seen this before. Not many times but. . . do not loosen your grip on him. He will harm us and himself if not restrained.’

  The emperor stood above them, peering over. ‘Can you help him?’

  ‘Maybe. Hold him, I said,’ Domnicus snapped angrily at Einar who had crawled back into position.

  ‘You bloody hold him, priest – he’s too strong for me. Just what the hell is going on?’

  ‘Prayer drives it out,’ Domnicus gasped, pushing down on his chest.

  ‘Drives what out? What’s in him?’

  ‘An evil spirit has its hold in him.’

  ‘What can I do?’ asked Leo.

  ‘Help restrain him.’

  There was a foul smell – like burning flesh and something rotten. Lilla, too, was leaning on his waist which was bucking around in his fit. Her hand touched the leather belt at his waist. It was scorching hot. ‘The belt,’ she said, recoiling her hand, and then remembered. ‘That thing. It’s of something evil, too.’

  Gerutha returned with the cross. Domnicus snatched it from her and pressed it onto Erlan’s chest. He screamed once more with the voice of a fiend and smoke started skirling off the belt. There was a sizzle of flesh like meat on a griddle. ‘Cut it off him!’ she cried. Einar drew his knife and jammed the blade under the belt, heedless of whether he cut his friend. The leather split in a second and immediately burst alight. Einar seized it like a poisonous snake and threw it across the floor where it continued to burn.

  Domnicus was praying, invoking the name of his God over Erlan in a voice almost as strange as the demon’s, his words resounding with an unnatural authority. He commanded the demon to come out of him but the response was only a jabber of words. They sounded like dark curses in a language Lilla didn’t understand.

  ‘Do you know what he’s saying?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s Aramaic,’ replied Domnicus, drawing breath. ‘He is cursing God and the name of Christ. And me!’ He suddenly laughed. ‘You cannot win, devil! You cannot! You must obey Christ! He is the firstborn of creation, the Son of the Most High God. His death was your defeat! His blood overcomes all things. His cross stands between you and this man! The cross defeats you!’ These words were all too strange for Lilla. She was still bewildered that some other spirit could somehow be in the man she loved. ‘Come out of him, devil!’

  ‘I—will—not,’ croaked a voice in Norse from Erlan’s throat that sent a chill through Lilla’s blood. It was thick and dark and crackled like angry fire, like many voices speaking at once. The sound of it drew out a memory, one she had wished never again to come to the surface.

  ‘Azazel,’ she murmured.

  ‘Shut your whore mouth, you sadistic bitch!’ snarled the voice on her lover’s lips.

  ‘What did you say?’ Domnicus stole a glance at her.

  ‘It is his name. The Witch King’s name. . . Azazel.’

  The priest nodded, his eyes narrowing. ‘Yes. I see.’ He seemed to recognize the strange name. ‘Azazel – the fallen one. Yes!’ He turned back to Erlan’s rigid body and bent over him, unafraid. ‘I know you, Azazel – demon of hell! You fell with the Morning Star. In the name of Christ, I command you to come out of this man!’ the priest bellowed, but the demon only filled the hall with another ear-rending shriek. Erlan’s eyes snapped open and rolled forward, except now they were not the eyes of a man but great pits of welling darkness. Eyes of evil. They rolled right and fixed on the emperor. Suddenly a surge of inhuman strength broke like a wave through his body, his hands threw off their restraint and he seized Leo by the throat.

  ‘You shit spawn usurper!’ the voice rasped, Erlan’s hand choking the life out of him. He leaned forward over him, spittle drooling down in strings into the emperor’s gaping mouth. ‘I will destroy your legacy, cross fucker. I will make your name a smear of shit.’

  ‘Pull him off!’ Domnicus tugged ineffectually at Erlan’s arm but only earned himself an elbow in the face and went reeling back. The emperor’s tongue was erect and quivering. There was panic in his eyes. His face was turning blue. Lilla pulled at Erlan’s shoulders but to no avail, and then a fist flew in from nowhere, slamming into Erlan’s skull and snapping back his head. He lost his grip on the emperor and went sprawling to the ground. Einar flung himself on top of Erlan, smothering his head and shoulders with the full mass of his brawn. ‘Work your bloody magic, priest!’ he bellowed. ‘Quickly now! I can’t hold him for long!’

  Domnicus ignored the bloody stream from his nose and kneeled over Erlan’s writhing body. He lifted the gold cross high and then pressed it down hard again on Erlan’s chest, crying, ‘Azazel! In the name of Christ, I command you once more – COME OUT OF THIS MAN!’

  Erlan saw only a dark shadow hovering over him, a great span of black spread above him like an eagle’s wings; he felt sharp talons tight around his neck, choking him and choking. His body was filled with pain and black despair. And then all of a sudden a beam of light pierced like a spear-shaft straight through the huge hovering shadow, driving deep into his stomach, ripping through the wall of muscle and flesh, opening up a great cavity in his abdomen that sent blood gushing out of him. He looked down and was bewildered: the shaft of light was now a pair of hands buried deep in his body. He felt heavy. So heavy. The hands pulled and suddenly in their strong fingers they held the links of a massive chain. They pulled and pulled and a long length of chain poured forth from his stomach. The hands pulled again and still more came – blood-slick black metal, brute and scarred, link after link, yard after yard, it came out of him, absurdly long – and all the while he felt lighter and lighter until the hands stopped with a jolt. They pulled again hard but could not budge the last of the chain. Instead they reached inside him. He felt the hands moving in his innards, yet there was no pain now. They lifted and tore and tugged and all at once it was as if they had torn away roots sunk deep into him, and they had in their palms a massive metal lock, sharp-edged. They strained with one final effort and the lock dislodged at last. It was out of him. And then he watched and saw the hands dump the lock into something like a forge fire. At once the metal melted into a silver pool of liquid until out of the pool rose a blade. . . a sword. . . a weapon of such shining, silvered beauty that it took away his breath. . . Above him, the shadow was gone.

  He lay completely still. For a few moments, all was silence in the octagonal hall. Lilla wondered, was he dead? Then he opened his eyes.

  ‘Erlan?’ said Lilla in a whisper.

  ‘Lilla?’ he croaked. It was his own voice again.

  Domnicus was kneeling over him, panting for breath. Einar was there, breathing as hard. He grunted and flopped back on his arse, shaking his head in mute wonder. Lilla pulled Erlan upright and wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight to her chest.

  ‘Praise God,’ Domnicus murmured. ‘Praise God, praise God. . .’

  ‘What happened?’ said Erlan.

  ‘You’re free.’ The priest smiled. ‘The blood of Christ has set you free.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  ‘You should be resting,’ said Lilla.

  ‘I can’t rest. Not now,’ replied Erlan, prodding gingerly at his throbbing skull. He winced. ‘The emperor needs me.’

  ‘You’re in no state to fight.’

  He shook
his head and immediately regretted it. ‘What can I do?’

  They were alone. A last concession from the emperor before he went to his duty. She reached down and put her hand against his cheek. ‘Your eyes are different,’ she said, her voice softening. ‘Like a storm has passed. Do you feel it?’

  ‘Yes.’ The truth was, he felt as though a great stone had been lifted off his heart. ‘Just don’t ask me to explain it.’ She frowned and looked away. ‘Did you know what you were saying? When you were—’

  ‘No. What did I say?’

  She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she murmured and flicked away a stray lock of her hair. ‘Why did you try to kill Leo?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head blankly. ‘I can only think that wasn’t me.’

  ‘I hope he believes that.’

  ‘Well, I can’t change what he believes. All I can do is fight for him.’

  ‘Gods, haven’t you done enough for him already?’ she blurted. ‘It’s madness that you go so soon. What just happened – you can’t pretend it was nothing.’

  ‘I’m not. I. . . Maybe in time I’ll understand what it was. But the battle that is here now is just as real.’

  ‘I know it is.’ She reached out and turned his chin to her, to look into her eyes. ‘But you must live, Erlan. And so must I.’

  He stood and turned his back to her, knowing what she meant and why. ‘Lilla, I love you but. . . I don’t think I can go back to the north.’

  ‘What?’ she murmured, pulling him back to her. ‘Of course, you—’.

  ‘Look about you. Do we lack anything here? We could make this our home. There is a fight that needs to be won here. A fight that is worth fighting. I can’t go back to the north.’

  ‘You must. We must. Especially now I know where you’re from. Don’t you see? Your people can help mine. Already we are allies. With your people, we have the seed of an army.’

  ‘My folk don’t want me back. Nor would they follow me. I betrayed them. That bridge is burned. My father. . .’ He shook his head, staring into the air. ‘I cannot return there, I told you.’