by Scott Hale
“Good.” She started to back out of the room. “Then show me you can change Rime, and I’ll take you to Eldrus.”
“I don’t need your permission—”
“But you do,” Joy said. “You’re not getting out of this wasteland without—”
Joy screamed and threw a gray ball of matter at Isla.
Isla ducked, screaming.
“Get away!” Joy cried.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Joy dropped to the ground, scooted backwards.
“What the fuck is…”
A moth the size of Isla’s hand, one whose scales shimmered and were covered in the shapes of skulls and eyes, fluttered through the room.
Joy dropped to her knees and curled into the fetal position. Bawling, she shouted, “Get away, get away, get away!”
The moth fluttered in front of Joy’s face, and flew out of the room.
It was the first time Isla had seen Joy afraid of something. It made her blush in places Joy couldn’t see.
CHAPTER XV
Felix didn’t believe it until he saw it, but when he and Gemma stepped into the catacombs below Cenotaph, he had no choice, because there it was, a death-wrapped gift hand-delivered to the kingdom of the dead: a box completely constructed out of bodies.
“Told you,” Gemma chided.
He ignored her, which wasn’t all that hard. He’d ignored her most of the way, convinced she was just screwing with him, or trying to get him alone. He wanted to be alone with her, though he knew he shouldn’t be, and he’d hoped this discovery would be a lie, because who really wanted such a thing to be true?
But it wasn’t a lie, and there it was.
And it was just that. A box made out of bodies, dozens of them. Naked men and women pressed tightly together; bent, broken, and twisted to create the sides and corners of the box. Where bones should’ve protruded, there were incisions instead, as if someone had taken the time to take them apart, to make their corpses as malleable as possible. Some limbs looked flattened; and some heads on the outside—there was no telling how dense this box was—had the backs of their skulls shaved off. For all the awkward contortions of the human form, the box was remarkably smooth. This was in part to the amber-colored coating that sat lightly over it, like some kind of ancient embalming fluid.
“What is this?” Felix barked to the two female soldiers who’d been standing guard at the entrance to the catacombs. They’d let him in without giving him any lip—they knew better—and now they were standing by, their heads down and their hands on the pommels of their swords, eyes trained on Gemma.
“We don’t know, your Holiness,” Rose, the younger of the two soldiers, said.
Circling the box, repulsed by the bruised, frostbitten corpses of which it was comprised, Felix said, “Where did it come from?”
Hila, the second soldier: “Penance, your Holiness.”
Gemma lifted off the ground and landed on top of the box. Her bare feet sank slightly into the fleshy patchwork. She knelt down, balancing herself between an open hand and a caved-in stomach, and gave the box a knock. It answered with two thick, smacking sounds, and not much else.
“Not hollow,” she said, grinning stupidly but staying up there.
“What’s in it?” Felix asked again.
“We don’t know, your Holiness,” Hila said.
“The Mother Abbess ordered it be brought to Cathedra.” Rose looked guilty. “We were our own cadre within Narcissus.”
Felix stepped away from the box, into the shadows and the numerous tombs they held here in the catacombs.
“We kept it covered with hides,” Rose said, “but the Mother Abbess ordered we remove them as soon as we made it to the catacombs.”
“Why?” Felix pressed.
Neither Rose nor Hila had an answer.
“Where, in Penance, did you pick it up?”
“Pyra,” Hila said. “The Mother Abbess’ own bedroom. Her room was empty, your Holiness, and we figured her belongings were inside.”
“Inside a box made out of bodies,” Felix said.
Gemma snorted and sat on the box, swinging her legs idly.
“It’s not our place to question god,” Rose said.
Justine’s belongings. Maybe. I guess. But whatever’s inside… It has to be living off the bodies. Or it’s some… Worm… thing. Felix sighed and rubbed his forehead. She’s been around for so long… been so many Mother Abbesses… Everything she does, even right in front of everyone, is a secret.
“Crack it open!” Gemma shouted. “There’s something fucked up inside.”
“Your Holiness, if you would like,” Rose said, stepping closer, “I can remove—”
Felix shook his head. “Leave her. She’s with me.”
Gemma pretended to swoon.
“No one sees or touches this box until the Mother Abbess claims it for herself,” Felix said. “You will be—”
The box moved. It inched towards him with a wet, sucking sound, as if the bodies covering its bottom had been torn open by the catacomb’s rough stone floor. Gemma froze, still perched upon it, and had nothing stupid to say for once. Another wet sound, like running water after every thaw, and then a hiss, like steam. After those few eternal sounds: silence.
Rose and Hila were already shaking their heads. That was the first time they’d seen or heard the box do that, too.
“No one…” Felix heard scratching overhead, inside the arch of the ceiling. “No one comes in here.”
Rose and Hila nodded in agreement.
Felix slipped out of the shadows, giving the box a wide berth. He marched across the room in every direction. Dark, but for the torches blazing in the doorway, it was difficult to tell how far the catacombs stretched on for. It was just dirty stone and cobwebbed tombs… and honestly, were these walls even walls? Where one tomb ended, another began.
All the same, Cathedra was old, and the people of his religion many. If someone told him the catacombs ran under the whole town, he’d probably believe it.
“Chart the catacombs,” Felix said, “and board up any other entrances. Mother Abbess Justine has brought a gift of heaven to Cathedra. We do not want anyone stealing it.”
Gemma hopped off the box. “You couldn’t pay me a million bucks to steal this thing.”
Felix shot Gemma a look that said shut up, and she shut up. The body box was everything he didn’t like about Justine. A secret wrapped in a disgusting lie. God, it was everything Justine was.
Stop thinking like that.
“You okay?” Gemma asked.
He sniffed his nose, noticed he’d started crying. He smiled, but his cheek quivered when he did so, because at that moment he wasn’t meant to. He wasn’t supposed to.
When Felix and Gemma made it up from the catacombs, Millicent, the commander of conscription on the Divide, was waiting for them in the main hall. Imposing as ever, and just as large as if not larger than the ape-shaped Warren, she gave Felix the faintest nod of acknowledgement as he approached. Maybe that was just the way she was, but sometimes he wondered if it was the armor she wore—the armor Justine had given to her. That pearl-colored plate that linked together like scales, with the ever-shifting goop between each piece. It wasn’t that it was cutting off her circulation, but other things. Feeling things. Human things. He thought about the robe Justine had given him—it wasn’t all that different than the armor—and it made him want to wear it even less.
“Your Holiness,” Millicent said. And to Gemma: “Vampyre.”
Gemma put her slits out. “Caught me red-handed.”
“I am to escort you to the meeting,” Millicent said. And to Gemma: “Also, you.”
Felix played dumb, nodded as if he knew what Millicent was talking about, and went with her, Gemma in tow, through Cenotaph.
It’d been hours since his speech, close to dinner time, and already the cathedral had a different feel to it. He’d seen the new guests, visitors, and staff before going down to
the catacombs, but now every hall, doorway, and room had the soldiers of Narcissus in them. Justine could’ve easily recruited the best from the conscription to fill the roles, but the conscription didn’t have a best. It was the worst of the worst of Penance’s peninsula, who’d been given a ticket to heaven for every kill they’d copped. The thought didn’t sit right with Felix. This was his religion. He didn’t want it to be a matter of quantity over quality. Something would have to be done.
The meeting was on the second floor of Cenotaph, in a room in a wing Felix, ever the adventurer, had surprisingly never ventured to. Part of one of the four towers that cradled the bulk of the building, the room was rounded, with a high, painted ceiling that depicted the moment Lillian first made contact with God. She had been a little girl then, a teenager like Felix, and in the painting, the artist had her being carried on a wave of vermillion veins, to a field of apostates and heretics beyond, the symbols of their religions—the Wheel of Dharma of Buddhism, the Star of David of Judaism, the Christian Cross of Christianity, and Star and Crescent of Islam—held above them on flags of war.
Crap, that’s got to go.
That was part of the problem he and Justine were facing. The Holy Order of Penance had evolved from the Lillians. Until the Disciples of the Deep had summoned God, the followers of the Holy Order had no way to know that both religions were one and the same. But now It was awake, and so much of the sacred texts and artwork depicted a figure that was obviously the Vermillion God. People were starting to catch on, and neither he nor Justine knew what to…
Gemma cleared her throat.
Felix rubbed his eyes and looked away from the ceiling. Below it, a table, round like the room, stood, with five people sitting at it. Hex was on the edge of her seat, elbows to her knees; dark circles surrounded her eyes, making them look even bluer than usual. Beside her, Warren; arms across his chest, muscles bulging beneath his shirt, he made his pecs bounce, up and down, as he smiled at Felix. Next to him was James, his nub hand to his head, trying not to laugh at Warren.
Then, two empty chairs—Gemma’s and Millicent’s.
On the other side of the table were a man and woman he’d been introduced to briefly in the past. The man’s name was Barnabas. Five feet tall, pudgy, and covered in hair, Felix had first thought he was an oversized grumbler. But he wasn’t a grumbler. He was one of the most powerful people in Cathedra. It was his responsibility to keep and copy the look of Penance when it came to the town’s construction and - what was the word Justine used? - beautification.
Next to him, though with some space between them, as if one or both of them couldn’t stand one another, was Sloane. Tall, skinny, the sixty-three-year-old with silver-streaked hair and spectacles big enough to eat her head was in charge of Cathedra’s missionary program. It had been her job to scour the continent for places that hadn’t converted to the Holy Order and… convert them. Taking on the job at twenty, Sloane had done so well that when the majority of the continent were believers, either actively or passively (Justine’s words), she changed the program from missionary work to espionage. Now, she was both a missionary and a spy, and if anyone knew anything about anything about the Disciples and what they were doing, it would be her and her Compellers.
Two more chairs, on the opposite side of the table. One for him. One for Justine. He was here. She wasn’t. He knew, and knew she hadn’t been, because he couldn’t smell her, that lingering odor of hers—burning wood—and he couldn’t feel her. The sealing stone necklace around his neck sometimes vibrated when she was near. It was nice that it could do that, but he didn’t like thinking too much about it. If the stone was moving, it was trying to move towards her, to kill her.
Hex, Warren, James, Barnabas, and Sloane rose to their feet and bowed.
Felix gestured for them to sit, and sitting himself, he said, “Thank you for coming.”
Gemma and Millicent went around the table. As Millicent went to sit, Gemma quickly squeezed past her and grabbed the seat next to Warren. Millicent rolled her eyes and sat beside Barnabas.
Why did Justine call this meeting if she wasn’t going to be here? He looked over his shoulder, listened for footsteps in the hall. You can do this. If you make everyone else talk, they’ll forget you didn’t. If they don’t, it doesn’t matter. You’re the Holy Child. You can do anything. But they’re going to think I’m stupid if I don’t…
Commander Millicent cleared her throat. “Your Holiness, if you’re ready to begin, I will announce the purpose of this meeting you’ve called today.”
I called this meeting?
Felix nodded, said, “Go ahead.”
“We are here today to discuss where we stand against the Disciples of the Deep, what we can accomplish with our new allies, and what is needed, here in Cathedra, to make the town, soon to be city, an appropriate staging point for our mainland operations.”
Felix noticed Warren eyeballing Millicent as she spoke. The goofy grin he had earlier was gone. Now, he was enraptured.
“Tell us, then,” Felix said, “where we stand against the Disciples of the Deep, Commander Millicent.”
“With the arrival of Narcissus… on even ground—the abomination over Kistvaen withstanding. Penance is secure. King Edgar’s soldiers and Arachne have been seen trying to cross the Divide, but that division of Narcissus has easily repelled them. We hold the east bank and portions of the west, nearer to Gallows, but the Disciples everywhere else in the area are entrenched, and the vermillion veins have only gotten worse. They have grown into nigh impenetrable jungles. Narcissus on the Divide does face one pressing issue, though.”
“What’s that?”
“The Nameless Forest. It is growing, your Holiness, and more creatures are spilling out of it. Carrion birds, in particular. The Forest has begun to stretch across the northern portions of the Divide. If we are not diligent, this will provide Eldrus a bridge by which they can cross the river into Penance’s peninsula.”
“What do you suggest, Commander?”
“Assign squadrons to attack and clear the blight that is the Nameless Forest. And if the place does not disappear when we’ve won this war against the Impostor God, I recommend we burn it to the ground.”
Felix nodded and started to say something when—
Gemma interrupted: “Good luck with that.”
Millicent twitched. “You’re from there, vampyre. Enlighten us.”
“The Nameless Forest isn’t part of this world,” she said. “I don’t think it’s from the Deep, either, or whatever Eddy is calling it.”
“Where’s it from, Gemma?” Felix asked.
“Exuviae, maybe.” Gemma twisted her mouth. “Maybe Exuviae.”
It was obvious that no one around the table, including Felix, knew what she was talking about.
“That’s where they say the Dread Clock is from, or what the Dread Clock created,” she went on. “Anyways… It’s going to keep growing unless you stop it at the source.”
“We’ll discuss this ‘Exuviae’ at a later time,” Felix said, “but for now, Commander Millicent, keep the Nameless Forest from spreading as best as you can.”
“Yes, your Holiness.”
“Where do we stand in the Heartland?”
“Eldrus’ army is primarily stationed in Eldrus, Nyxis, and Hrothas. There are rumors that weapons are being assembled in the woodland of Islaos, though we are not sure what these weapons are. But, your Holiness, there are soldiers throughout the Heartland, in every village and town, and they have been there for years. Suicide bombers—individuals infested with vermillion veins—have been seen attacking our people, as well.”
At this, Hex shifted in her seat. And she shifted some more when Felix noticed.
“We are safe, for now, but it is difficult to say for how long, what with the beast that looms over us all.”
“Safe?” Barnabas laughed. “We are safe, but the people of Cathedra certainly are not. They are not, will not be… not with the Conscription here.
We need to discuss their stay.”
Felix, annoyed, ignored Barnabas and asked, “Is that all, Commander?”
“For now,” she said, “until the plans are drawn for conquest.”
“That will have to wait until the Mother Abbess rejoins us.”
“Of course, your Holiness. I’m sure I speak for us all when I wish for her speedy recovery.”
“Yeah, we do,” Warren belted out, chomping at the bit to agree with Millicent on something.
Recovery? Is she sick? Is it the face in her chest? Don’t look stupid. Don’t look scared.
“Barnabas—” Felix cleared his mind, “—why don’t you go next?”
Barnabas stroked his facial hair, which covered, more or less, his entire face. “Apologies, your Holiness, for the interruption, but we have worked too hard and too long to have our town plunged into depravity. The Conscription steals, assaults, rapes, drains our coffers and our foodstuffs, and—”
“The whole Conscription does this?”
“Why, no, of course not, but many of them…”
“How many of the Conscription remain, Commander?”
Millicent said, “Nine hundred and thirty-four. Many have perished to disease or wounds on the way here. We expect to lose more soon.”
“Well, there you have it,” Barnabas cried. “Disease, your Holiness, and wounds! Cathedra has lived in semi-isolation from the rest of the Heartland, in our attempt to hold true to tradition. Our immune systems, your Holiness, are not as strong as others’.”
Oh my god, shut up, Felix thought, and said, “Despite your concerns, you are expanding Cathedra to accommodate the Conscription and Narcissus.”
Barnabas begrudgingly nodded. “Yes.”
“Your loyalty is appreciated.”
“Your, uh, Holiness,” Warren said, chiming in. “What I’m hearing is that the Conscription isn’t much when compared to Narcissus. Plucking people from their homes and forcing them to fight when they’ve got no right to be fighting will get you results like that.”
Commander Millicent shot him a damning look.
He pursed his lips and winked. “You could send them into the Heartland, but I’m not sure they’ll be so effective fragmented.”
