Tales of Heresy

by Nick Kyme

  ‘It is the holy word of my god,’ said Uriah. ‘It speaks to everyone who reads it.’

  Revelation laughed and tapped his forehead. ‘If a man claimed his dead grandfather was speaking to him he’d be locked up in an asylum, but if he were to claim the voice of god was speaking to him, his fellow clerics might well make him into a saint. Clearly there is safety in numbers when it comes to hearing voices, eh?’

  ‘This is my faith you are talking about,’ said Uriah. ‘Show some damned respect!’

  ‘Why should I?’ said Revelation. ‘Why does your faith require special treatment? Is it not robust enough to stand some questioning? No one else on this world enjoys such protection from scrutiny, so why should you and your faith be singled out for special treatment?’

  ‘I have seen god,’ hissed Uriah. ‘I saw His face and heard His words in my soul…’

  ‘If you have had such an experience, you may believe it was real, but do not expect me or anyone else to give it credence, Uriah,’ said Revelation. ‘Just because you believe a thing to be true does not make it so.’

  ‘I saw what I saw and I heard what I heard that day,’ said Uriah, his fingers clenching tightly on the book as long-buried memories swam to the surface. ‘I know it was real.’

  ‘And where in Franc did this miraculous vision take place?’

  Uriah hesitated, reluctant to give voice to the name that would unlock the box in which he had shut the memories of his past life. He took a breath. ‘On the killing field of Gaduare.’

  ‘You were at Gaduare,’ said Revelation, and Uriah couldn’t tell if Revelation’s words were a question or simply an acknowledgement.

  For the briefest second, it sounded as though Revelation already knew.

  ‘Aye,’ said Uriah. ‘I was.’

  ‘Will you tell me what happened?’

  ‘I’ll tell you of it,’ whispered Uriah. ‘But first I’ll need another drink.’

  ONCE AGAIN, URIAH and Revelation returned to the vestry. Uriah reached into a different drawer and removed a bottle, identical to the first, except that this bottle was half-empty. Revelation sat, and Uriah noticed the chair protested once more at his weight, though the man was not especially bulky.

  Uriah shook his head as Revelation held out the pewter tumbler and said, ‘No, this is the good stuff. You don’t drink it from a tumbler, you drink it from a glass.’

  He opened a walnut cabinet behind his desk and lifted out two cut crystal copitas and deposited them on the desktop amid the clutter of papers and scrolls. He uncorked the bottle and a wonderful peaty aroma filled the room, redolent with the memories of high pastures, fresh, tumbling brooks and dark, shadow-filled woods.

  ‘The water of life,’ said Uriah, pouring two generous measures and sitting opposite Revelation. The liquid was heavy and amber, the crystal of the glass refracting slivers of gold and yellow through it.

  ‘Finally,’ said Revelation, lifting his glass to take a drink. ‘A spirit I can believe in.’

  Uriah said, ‘No, not yet, let the vapours build. It intensifies the flavour. Swirl it a little. See the little slicks on the side of the glass? They’re called tears, and since they’re long and descending slowly we know the drink is strong and full-bodied.’

  ‘Can I drink it now?’

  ‘Patience,’ said Uriah. ‘Carefully nose the drink, yes? Feel how the aromas leap out at you and stimulate your senses. Allow yourself to react to the moment, let the scents awaken the memories of their origin.’

  Uriah closed his eyes as he swirled the golden liquid around the glass below his nose, letting the fragrances of a lost time wash over him. He could smell the mellow richness of the alcohol, his memory alight with sensations he had never experienced: running through a wild wood of thorns and heather at sunset, the smoke from a fire in a wooden hall with a woven roof of reeds and which was hung with shields. And above all, he sensed a legacy of pride and tradition encapsulated in each element of the drink.

  He smiled as he was taken back to his youth. ‘Now drink,’ he said. ‘A generous sip. Swirl the drink over your tongue, cheeks and palate for a few seconds before you let it slide down as you swallow.’

  Uriah sipped his drink and revelled in the silky smoothness of its warmth. The drink was powerful and tasted of toasted oak and sweet honey.

  ‘Ah, that’s a flavour I’ve not had in a long time,’ said Revelation, and Uriah opened his eyes to see a contented smile on his visitor’s face. ‘I didn’t think any remained.’

  Revelation’s features had relaxed and Uriah saw his cheeks glow with a rosy health. For no reason he could identify, Uriah felt less hostile to Revelation now, as if they had shared a moment of sensation that only two connoisseurs could appreciate.

  ‘It’s an old bottle,’ explained Uriah. ‘One I was able to rescue from the ruin of my parents’ home.’

  ‘You make a habit of keeping old alcohol around,’ said Revelation.

  ‘A throwback to my wild youth,’ said Uriah. ‘I was fond of drink a little too much, if you take my meaning.’

  ‘I do. I have seen many great individuals brought low by such an addiction.’

  Uriah took another sip, a smaller one this time, and savoured the heady flavours before continuing. ‘You said you wanted to know of Gaduare?’

  ‘If you are ready and willing to tell me of it, yes.’

  Uriah sighed. ‘Willing, yes. Ready… Well, I suppose we will find out, eh?’

  ‘Gaduare was a bloody day,’ said Revelation. ‘It was hard on all who were there.’

  Uriah shook his head. ‘My eyes are not what they once were, but I can still tell that you are too young to know of Gaduare. You would not even have been born when that battle was fought.’

  ‘Trust me,’ said Revelation. ‘I know of Gaduare.’

  The tone of Revelation’s words sent a shiver down Uriah’s spine and, as their eyes met, he saw such a weight of knowledge and history that he felt suddenly humbled and ashamed for arguing with Revelation.

  The man put down his glass and the moment passed.

  ‘I should tell you a little of myself first,’ said Uriah. ‘Who I was back then and how I came to find god on the battlefield of Gaduare. If you’ve a mind to hear it, that is…’

  ‘Of course. Tell what you feel you need to tell.’

  Uriah sipped his drink and said, ‘I was born in the town below this church, nearly eighty years ago, the youngest son of the local lord. My clan had come through the final years of Old Night with much of their wealth intact and they owned all the land around these parts, from this mountain down to the mainland bridge. I wish I could say I was treated badly as a child, you know, to give some reason for why I turned out the way I did, but I can’t. I was indulged, and became something of a spoiled brat, given to drinking, carousing and bouts of petulance.’

  Uriah sighed. ‘Looking back, I realise what a shit I was, but of course it’s the lot of old men to look at themselves as youngsters and realise too late all the mistakes they made and regrets they carry. Anyway, I decided in my adolescent fires of rebellion that I was going to travel the world and see whatever free corners of it remained in the wake of the Emperor’s conquests. So much of the world had been brought under his sway, but I was determined to find one last patch of land that wasn’t yet under the heel of his thunderbolt and lightning armies.’

  ‘You make it sound like the Emperor was a tyrant,’ said Revelation. ‘He ended the wars that were destroying the planet and defeated dozens of tyrants and despots. Without his armies, mankind would have descended into anarchy and destroyed itself within a generation.’

  ‘Aye, and maybe we’d have been better off that way,’ said Uriah, taking another sip of his drink. ‘Maybe the universe decided we’d had our chance and our time was up.’

  ‘Nonsense. The universe cares not a whit for our actions or us. Our fate is wrought by our own hands.’

  ‘A philosophical point we’ll no doubt return to, but I was telling you of
my youth…’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Revelation. ‘Continue.’

  ‘Thank you. Well, after I announced my intention to travel the world, my father was good enough to grant me a generous stipend and a retinue of soldiers to protect me on my journeys. I left that very day and crossed the silver bridge four days later, travelling across a land recovering from war and which was growing fat on labours decreed by the Emperor. Hammers beat out plates of armour, blackened factories churned out weapons and entire towns of seamstresses created new uniforms for his armies. I crossed to Europa and caroused my way across the continent, seeing the eagle-stamped banner everywhere I went. In every town and city, I saw people giving thanks to the Emperor and his mighty thunder giants, though it all seemed hollow, like they were going through the motions because they were too afraid not to. I’d seen an army of the Emperor’s giants once when I was a child, but this was the first time I had seen them in the wake of conquest.’

  Uriah’s breath caught in his throat as he remembered the warrior’s face, leaning down to regard him as though he had been less than an insect. ‘I was drunk and whoring my way down the Tali peninsula when I came upon a garrison of the Emperor’s super-soldiers at a ruined clifftop fortress and my romantic, rebellious soul couldn’t help but try and bait them. Having seen them in battle, I shudder now to think of the hideous danger I was in. I shouted at them, calling them freaks and servants of a bloodthirsty, tyrannical monster whose only thought was the enslavement of mankind to his own towering ego. I paraphrased the works of Seytwn and Galliemus, though how I remembered the old masters when I was so drunk, I’ll never know. I thought I was being so clever, and then one of the giants broke ranks and approached me. Like I said, I was monumentally drunk and filled with that sense of invincibility that only drunks and fools know. The warrior was a hulking figure, more massive than any human being should ever be. His brutish frame was encased in heavy powered armour that enclosed his chest and arms, and which I thought was ridiculously exaggerated.’

  ‘In previous wars, most warriors preferred to grapple with one another in close combat rather than use long-range weapons,’ said Revelation. ‘The power of a warrior’s chest and arms were of paramount importance in such feats of arms.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ said Uriah. ‘Well, anyway, he came over and lifted me out of my chair, spilling my drink and upsetting me greatly. I kicked at his armour and beat my fists bloody against his chest, but he just laughed at me. I screamed at him to let me go and he did just that, telling me to shut my mouth before tossing me off the cliff and into the sea. By the time I’d climbed back to the village, they were gone and I was left with a hatred as strong as any I’d known. Stupid really, I was asking for it and it was only a matter of time until someone put me in my place.’

  ‘So where did you go after Tali?’ asked Revelation.

  ‘Here and there,’ said Uriah. ‘I’ve forgotten a lot of those years, I was drunk a lot of the time. I know I took a sand-skimmer across the Mediterranean dust bowl and traversed the wastelands of the Nordafrik Conclaves that Shang Khal reduced to ashen desert. All I found were settlements that paid homage to the Emperor, so I carried onwards far into the east to see the ruins of Ursh and the fallen bastions of Narthan Durme. But even there, in places so far away as to be the most desolate and remote corners of the world, I still found those who gave thanks to the Emperor and his gene-engineered warriors. I couldn’t understand it. Didn’t these people see that they’d just exchanged one tyrant for another?’

  ‘Humanity was heading for species doom,’ said Revelation, sitting forwards in his chair. ‘I keep telling you that without Unity and the Emperor there would be no human race. I can’t believe you don’t see that.’

  ‘Oh, I see it all right, but back then I was young and full of the fires of youth that see any form of control as oppression. Though they don’t appreciate it, it’s the function of youth to push at the boundaries of the previous generation, to poke and prod and establish their own rules. I was no different from any other youth. Well, perhaps a little.’

  ‘So you’d travelled the world and hadn’t found any corner of it that hadn’t sworn allegiance to the Emperor… Where did you go next?’

  Uriah refilled their glasses before continuing. ‘I returned home for a spell, bearing gifts I’d mostly stolen along the way, then set off again, but this time I went as a soldier of fortune instead of a tourist. I’d heard there were rumours of unrest in the land of the Franc, and fancied I could earn myself renown. The Franc were a fractious people before Unity and did not take kindly to invaders, even ones posing as benign. When I reached the continent, I heard of Havuleq D’agross and the Battle of Avelroi and rode straight for the town.’

  ‘Avelroi,’ said Revelation, shaking his head. ‘A town poisoned by the bitterness of a madman whose meagre talents fell far short of his ambition.’

  ‘I know that now, but the way I heard it at the time, Havuleq found himself wrongly accused of the brutal murder of the woman the Emperor had appointed as his governor. He was set to be shot by a firing squad when his brothers and friends attacked the Army units tasked with his execution. The soldiers were torn to pieces, but some of the townsfolk got themselves killed in the fighting, including the local arbiter’s son, and the mood of the people turned ugly. For all his other faults, and there were many, Havuleq was a speaker of rare skill and he fanned the flames of the townsfolk’s ire at the Emperor’s rule. Within the hour, a hastily formed militia had stormed the Army barracks and slain all the soldiers within.’

  ‘You know, of course, that Havuleq did assault and murder that woman?’

  Uriah nodded sadly. ‘I learned that later, yes, when it was too late to do anything about it.’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘By the time I reached Avelroi, full of piss and vinegar for the coming fight, Havuleq had rallied a number of the local townships to his cause and had amassed quite an army.’

  Uriah smiled as the details of his early time in Avelroi returned, clearer than they had been for decades. ‘It was a magnificent sight, Revelation, the icons of the Emperor had been torn down and the city was like something from a dream. Colourful bunting hung from every window and marching bands played in the streets every day as Havuleq marched his soldiers up and down. Of course, we should have been training, but we were buoyed up with courage and our own sense of righteous purpose. More and more of the surrounding towns were rising up against their Army garrisons, and within the space of a few months around forty thousand men were ready to fight.’

  ‘It was everything I’d dreamed of,’ said Uriah. ‘It was a glorious rebellion, courageous and heroic in the grand tradition of the freedom fighters of old. We were to be the spark that would light the fuse of history that would see this planetary autocrat tumbled from his self-appointed rulership of the world. Then we heard that the thunderbolt and lightning army was marching from the east and we set off in grand procession to meet it in battle. It was a joyous day as Havuleq led us from Avelroi, I’ll never forget it: the laughter, the kisses from the girls and the spirit of shared brotherhood that filled us as we marched out to battle. It took us a week to reach Gaduare, a line of high hills directly in the path of our enemies. I had read my share of the ancient stories of battle and knew this was a good place to make our stand. We occupied the high ground and both our flanks were anchored on strong positions. On the left were the ruins of the Gaduare Bastion, on the right a desolate marsh through which nothing could pass.’

  ‘It was madness to oppose the Emperor’s armies,’ said Revelation. ‘You must have known you could not defeat them. These were warriors bred for battle, whose every waking moment was spent in combat training.’

  Uriah nodded. ‘I think we knew that as soon as our enemy came into sight,’ he said, his features darkening at the memory, ‘but we were so caught up in the mood of optimism. By now our army was fifty thousand strong, and we faced less than a tenth of that number. It was hard
not to feel like we could win the day, especially with Havuleq riding up and down and firing our blood. His brother tried to calm him, but it was already too late and we charged from the hillside like mad, glorious fools, screaming war cries and waving swords, pistols and rifles above our heads. I was in the sixth rank and we’d covered nearly a kilometre by the time we got anywhere near the ranks of the giants. They hadn’t moved since we’d set off, but as we got close, they shouldered their guns and opened fire.’

  Uriah paused and took a long gulp of his drink. His hand was shaking and he carefully and deliberately set his glass down on the desk as he continued.

  ‘I’ll never forget the noise,’ he said. ‘It was like a thunderstorm had suddenly sprung into existence, and our first five ranks were completely cut down, dead to a man without even the time to scream. The enemy’s bolts tore limbs from bodies or simply burst men apart like wet sacks. I turned to shout something, I forget what exactly, when I felt a searing pain in the back of my head and I fell over the remains of a man who’d had his entire left side blown off. It looked like he’d exploded from the inside out.

  ‘I rolled onto my knees and felt the back of my head. It was sticky and matted with blood and I realised I’d been hit. A ricochet or a fragment. Anything larger and I’d have lost my head. I could feel the blood running from me and looked up in time to see our enemies fire again. That’s when I started to hear screams. Our charge had ground to a halt, men and women milling around in confusion and fear as they suddenly understood the reality of what Havuleq had begun.

  ‘The thunder warriors put up their guns and marched towards us, unsheathing swords with serrated edges and motorised blades. The noise, oh god, I’ll never forget the noise they made. A roar like something out of a nightmare. We were already beaten, their first volley had broken us, and I saw Havuleq lying dead in the middle of the field. The lower half of his body had been blown clean off and I saw the same terror I was feeling on every face around me. People were begging for mercy, throwing down their weapons and trying to surrender, but the armoured warriors didn’t stop. They marched right up to us and hacked into us without mercy. We were cut apart and brutalised with such economy of force that I couldn’t believe so many people could die in so short a time. This wasn’t war, at least not as I’d read about it, where men of honour fought in glorious duels, this was mechanised butchery.