by A J Dalton
The Heroes of Godsend had backed away from Azual, a look of horror on many of their faces. Of course, they had never witnessed the Saint bestowing the sacred communion on one of the People before, so could not understand its mysteries and wonder. They had experienced it themselves when coming of age, but the memory of it had been largely erased from their simple minds by the Saint.
Azual debated with himself as to whether he should remove all memory of the encounter with Samnir from the minds of the men – but there were a dozen of them, so it would be quite some undertaking, and Azual had decided to be far more cautious from now on about how he expended his power. The boy and his magicks were still at large and there was also the matter of the plague – he might need all the power he could muster far sooner than he liked. Instead, he called Captain Hamir to him and spoke in a voice loud enough for all to hear.
‘Do not fear, for the traitor among you has now been purged from your number. The good name and honour of the Heroes of Godsend is restored by my word and gift. I do not blame you for the escape of the boy and your failure to find him subsequently.’
The Captain covered his uncertainty with a low bow. ‘Holy one, our oaths and thanks are ever yours.’
Azual nodded magnanimously. ‘That is well, Captain. Some of the things that you have seen and heard here today are beyond the ken of you and your men. You will banish these things from your minds and lips, lest your simple understanding were to misconstrue what occurred and serve to unnerve the People. There were magicks in play that could not be seen with the normal eye and which you cannot even begin to imagine. Samnir’s soul was tightly bound by dark and cruel pagan magicks. I had to risk myself in order to save him, for that is my holy duty and the will of the Saviours. We do this to safeguard the good People of the Empire for all eternity. Do you understand, Captain?’
Azual’s eye shone down on the Captain’s face, and forced him to kneel. The Hero’s own eyes became vacant as he chanted, ‘Sacrifice and duty safeguard the People against the Chaos!’ All of his men followed his lead, ignoring the discomfort of the stone against their knees and repeating the line from the Book of Saviours that had been ingrained in them all their lives.
‘Very well. I am satisfied,’ Saint Azual said gently. ‘I will take that as a vow from all of you never to speak of these events. Of course, should you utter a word of it, I will know and I will be greatly saddened, do you all understand?’
‘Yes, holy one!’ they chanted, a mixture of passion, fervour and fear across all their faces.
‘You may rise now. Captain, have this blasphemer chained in the Gathering Place as a warning to the inhabitants of Godsend to be more vigilant when it comes to the pernicious influence of the Chaos. Let the People pity him or throw food as they wish, for that may suffice to feed him, if his body still knows the instinct for survival. And have a bucket of clean water thrown over him once a week so that all waste is washed away. Show him some mercy, Captain, in the name of the Saviours, for we must punish to teach, but we do not wish to be cruel lest we create martyrs of the corrupt and ill-deserving. Now, take me to my temple, for I must pray and replenish myself.’
Azual strode through Godsend, Heroes trotting to either side of him to keep the ardent congregation of People back. Minister Praxis jumped and waved for the Saint’s attention, but Azual had no time for the pompous prig. In fact the man was a liability – and if there had been any remoter town than Godsend, he’d have sent him there. Maybe I should establish a temple at the foot of the mountains for people such as this, Azual mused, or better yet … He waved the Minister through the cordon of Heroes.
‘Holy one, you have come to us in our hour of need! We are beset—’
‘Be silent!’ the Saint said out loud and in the Minister’s mind simultaneously.
The Minister flinched but did as he was commanded. Shame. I would have enjoyed seeing his tongue removed.
‘Minister,’ Azual continued, not breaking step and no longer deigning to look upon the man, ‘you are to be rewarded. Now you may speak.’
The Minister smiled modestly. ‘Holy one, I am but your humble servant, vigilant at all times and—’
‘And zealous when it comes to instilling a devotion to the Saviours in the People, yes?’
‘Of course, it is important to—’
‘To instil a fear of the pagans in them? To have them see monsters lurking in every shadow? To wonder always if their neighbours have succumbed to some corrupting temptation or magic? To interpret everyday greetings and actions in such terms just to be on the safe side?’
The Minister’s face became guarded. ‘Well, I …’
‘Tell me, Minister, is it not blasphemous to suggest that the Saviours cannot completely safeguard the People from the pagans? Surely if the People fear the pagans too much, then they cannot have true faith in the eternal Saviours. Surely, their faith is nothing more than empty desperation and lip-service. You agree, of course, with the holy representative of the Saviours, do you not?’
The Minister hesitated and then bowed his head in shame. ‘Of course, holy one.’
‘Come, do not be downhearted.’ Azual smiled. ‘You have a rare gift, Minister. You have the vision, passion and eloquence of a missionary.’
‘I do?’
‘Of course you do, and it is for that very reason that I have decided to give you a sacred mission, a mission that I could not give to just anyone.’
‘Holy one, you do me a great honour.’
‘Indeed I do, but one of which you are most deserving. You will enter the mountains as a missionary of the Saviours, Minister. You will go fearlessly among the pagans to show them you have absolute faith in the power of the Saviours to protect you. You will read to them the holy word from the Book of Saviours, and help them to understand the will of the Saviours. You will show them how they may enter into the Empire of the Saviours and gain eternal life. This is your sacred mission, Minister. You will be an inspiration to all the People. Your name will be known throughout the Empire. Last of all, remember that my thoughts will be with you at all times and that I will be able to see through your eyes how the pagans are disposed. You are doing me an invaluable service and for that you have my thanks and blessing.’
Minister Praxis failed to keep expressions of horror then nausea from his face. ‘H-holy one, what of my ministry here? Without me, the good People of Godsend—’
Azual waved away the objection. ‘I will have someone sent from Hyvan’s Cross. There are many who can offer ministry to the People, but you are the only one I have met with the faith, courage and determination required to embrace this holy mission. Minister, should you survive, then I will see to it that you are considered for beatification. Saint Praxis of the Mountains, you will be known as.’
The Minister’s expression now became neutral, but there were tones of wonder and ambition in his voice as he murmured, ‘Saint Praxis of the Mountains!’
‘Captain Hamir, see to it that the good Minister is furnished with some mule or ass suited to travel in the mountains and properly provisioned this very day. See to it that he has left Godsend before sundown.’
‘As you will it, holy one.’ The Captain nodded. ‘Here is your personal guard arriving.’
Azual looked up ahead to see Captain Skathis, splattered with the mud of the road, marching his men in formation towards them. As he neared, he saluted his master and nodded to Captain Hamir. Azual motioned the two men closer to him so that none could overhear them. ‘Captain Skathis, you and your men should immediately get what rest and refreshment you can, for we will have to leave Godsend within a handful of hours. The boy has escaped Godsend. I will Draw the girl Hella and seek to discover where Jillan has gone. Then I will question his parents, but anticipate some resistance from them. They bear some guilt in all this. Then we will take to the road again.’
Captain Skathis cleared his throat. ‘Yes, holy one. We will need to change our horses, with Captain Hamir’s permission.’
‘Of course. It is an honour to assist the guard of the holy one. It is for the Empire.’
He entered the cramped cold temple to find the girl sat shivering and waiting for him. His core stirred hungrily and he had to make an effort to suppress it.
‘Be calm, child. You are safe.’
‘Yes, holy one,’ she replied in a dutiful manner.
‘Your name is Hella, yes? And you were Jillan’s friend?’ Azual seated himself near her, but not so close that he would intimidate or scare her.
She blinked slowly. She would be a beauty when older, if she lived long enough. ‘Yes, Jillan and I were best friends,’ she said in a small voice. ‘What will you do to him, holy one?’
The Saint sighed. ‘He murdered one of your classmates, Hella. Come, drink this.’ He uncorked a glass phial of his imbued blood and gave it to her.
‘But he’s good, holy one, honestly he is!’ she implored. ‘They were always picking on him, that’s all.’
For once, Azual wasn’t really sure what to say. He frowned. Did the girl have some ability to confuse or influence him? ‘Well, drink it down so that you may be Drawn to the Saviours. Then they will understand about Jillan better.’
Hella looked down at the blood dubiously. She wrinkled her nose prettily. ‘What is it? It smells bad.’
‘It’s a sort of wine. It will clear your mind and help to Draw you to the Saviours, Hella. Come along now.’
She looked up into his eyes in appeal. ‘What will you do to Jillan?’
‘I …’ Get a grip on yourself. She’s just a child. ‘That remains to be seen. Where did he go, Hella? It would help me find him before anything else bad can happen, and that would help Jillan. You trust and have faith in the Saviours and their Saints, do you not? You pray to them, yes?’
‘Oh yes, every night, holy one. I don’t know where he is. I would tell you if I did.’
‘Drink the wine.’
‘I don’t like wine really. I tried some once and it made me sick. The thing is, Haal didn’t like it that Jillan and I were friends. And Jillan was always a bit different to the others, which, I don’t know, made them a bit jealous or frightened of him, I suppose.’
Intrigued despite himself, the Saint couldn’t help but ask, ‘Different how, Hella?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. He’d say odd things, funny things. He saw things strangely. And they say his parents …’ she tailed off.
‘I know about his parents. Did he ever show signs of using … well, pagan magicks before?’
‘No, holy one! Well, that is, except for … But it was strange.’
She knows something. ‘Except for what?’
‘Haal and Jillan argued before class. They were going to fight, and I got the strangest feeling Haal was in danger. But it was just a feeling.’ She shrugged. ‘Then Minister Praxis opened the door and we all went into class.’
‘Drink the wine,’ Azual said more sternly. He needed to connect with her thoughts if he was to understand things better than her childish ability to describe them. ‘It is a blasphemy not to obey your holy Saint’s commands.’
She looked at the blood again. ‘What if I’m sick? Can’t you Draw me to the Saviours without me drinking it? After all, the blessed Saviours can do anything, can’t they? And I am faithful.’
Is she stalling? What can she hope to achieve? Never had he had to tolerate a child so full of questions and challenge. Most would not hesitate to follow his instruction, eager to have the taint out of them as soon as they could, so that they would be accepted as an adult by their community and enjoy new rights and freedoms. Where did her defiance come from? The plague, the Hero Samnir, the girl, the parents, and there were bound to be others, all affected and corrupted by this boy. His influence continued even when he was no longer in Godsend. Was he out there spreading his defiance to other communities even now? The boy was clearly some sort of focus for the Chaos, the power that the pagans referred to as the Geas. It was becoming imperative that Azual get answers out of the girl and Jillan’s parents so that he could be out hunting the boy before any further time was lost. ‘Do you defy me, girl?’ he whispered dangerously.
Hella’s hands began to shake and she cringed back from the Saint. The glass phial dropped and smashed on the stone floor.
Azual roared in anger. He would have to force her now. His core demanded he take what was rightfully his. How dare she deny him! He snatched her by the wrist and dragged her towards him.
‘Nooo! Please, you’re hurting me!’
‘You bring this on yourself. Your blasphemy and defiance deserve nothing less.’
‘Someone help me!’
‘There’s no one to help you, you wilful child. Are you so corrupted that you would resist being Drawn to the Saviours? Even your own father would want to see you purged.’
The girl’s strength was as nothing compared to his. He shook her casually and she was capable of little more fight. Recalcitrant child! No doubt spoiled by her father as well as influenced by the boy. Her eyes glared at him. Was that hatred there? Astonishing. Minister Praxis had taught his students to fear and resent far too much. It was strange that the effects should be so marked, though. Was it another aspect of the plague and defiance, of the wrongness the Geas created?
There seemed to be far too much wrongness in this place whenever he examined the pattern of thoughts. The pattern! There was more wrongness, this time outside Godsend! The boy was at an inn at the fork to Saviours’ Paradise and Heroes’ Brook. He’d killed again! Cursing, Azual realised he must have passed him just the night before.
He threw the girl aside, not caring how she landed. He no longer had time for her, not when Jillan’s parents were bound to know far more. Ducking out of the temple, he called, ‘Captain Hamir, gather my guard. I must leave at once. Have the parents chained. We will take them with us so that they can be tested as necessary later. And the largest horse is to be saddled for myself!’
CHAPTER 5:
Or those that came before
Halls of dust stretching to the end of time. They cleaned, of course, constantly cleaned, but the corridors were so infinite that the retainers only succeeded in moving dust from one place to another. Despite the retainers, there was a stillness about these halls that spoke of eternity. It wasn’t a feeling of peace as such, more the sense of an implacable and unending patience. All would finally come to pass as intended once sufficient time had been allowed. In this way, their will was inevitable.
The living statues that were the Saviours watched the world through a waking dream. They would only become animated when events in the waking dream were momentous enough to require them to communicate with each other directly or when their gaunt bodies demanded they feed on magically imbued blood to sustain them for another year or so. This physical requirement for nourishment, this weakness, displayed itself only in the younger Saviours, those who had been born to this world some millennia before. The elders had no such need when in the waking dream, for they were so ancient that their flesh had long since petrified and become harder than any stone. It was only when they wished to become animated once more that they would demand blood of their retainers.
Something changed. Along one of the infinite corridors, there was a silent whisper. One of the Saviours stirs! the retainers suddenly knew as one. Hide and do not move! See and hear nothing! The retainers were mute, having had their tongues ripped out so that they could not speak of anything they saw or heard in the labyrinth of the Great Temple, but all were acutely attuned to the vibrations of the place and the will of the Empire’s rulers.
It is D’Selle. Clear out of the Saviour’s path so that his eyes will not have to suffer our imperfection and will not have to burn us. Move quickly and then become still!
D’Selle drifted through the Great Temple, knowing from the primitive thoughts of the retainers where he would find D’Shaa, a far younger and lesser Saviour. He had been surprised and slightly offended centuries before when the elders had allowe
d one so inexperienced as D’Shaa to become the organising intelligence for the southern region, but now D’Selle was glad of it because it had ultimately provided him with easy prey. Once he had undone the lesser Saviour and added her power to his own, the elders would surely have no choice but to elevate him to their rank and to share some of the old secrets with him.
He arrived in the vast gallery where D’Shaa stood immobile, and stopped to wait. It was unacceptably aggressive, not to mention dangerous, to wake any Saviour from the waking dream, so D’Selle had to content himself with the hope D’Shaa would soon become aware of his proximity through the dream. She might choose to ignore his presence even then, but he relied on her having little real reason to do so.
To his relief, her eyes opened within the next hour and turned towards him. ‘D’Selle.’ She nodded stiffly. ‘What is it you want from me?’
D’Selle bowed slightly. ‘I merely come to enquire whether all is well in your region.’
D’Shaa watched through the waking dream. Like her, her Saint was young but capable. Azual made mistakes, of course, but never repeated them. His power had grown quickly and the southern region had become both stable and prosperous, even trading with the more lawless eastern region with some success. Yet, as she’d feared would happen, Azual had begun to see himself as having outgrown his Sainthood. In that respect, the recent challenges in Godsend were a useful wake-up for him. She was quite happy to sacrifice stability in the southern region in the short-term if it gained her a more humble and cautious Saint in the long-term. It did not do well for Azual to have everything his own way.
