by Rod Rees
He bustled up a staircase to the balcony that circled high around the Temple walls and ducked behind a balustrade where he was both concealed and had a perfect view of what was happening twenty metres below him on the Temple floor. He settled down to wait, the only problem being that waiting gave him a chance to think and thinking gave his imagination an opportunity to run wild.
Vanka had always regarded himself as a pragmatist not given to flights of fancy, but now as midnight approached and the night’s darkness enveloped the Temple, he began to feel distinctly uneasy. The Dark seemed to be crowding in on him, casting long shadows over the world, and he had the awful suspicion that tonight the HimPerial priests wandering around the Temple waving their incense burners to and fro would unleash a djinn that most certainly would not go back into its bottle.
But there was no time to consider this further: a single blast of a trumpet reverberated through the Temple, signalling that the ceremony had begun.
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:00
Her spirit dulled by the effect of the unguent that had been poured over her body, Ella was taken out of the room and down a long, narrow corridor, coming to stand before the two huge bronze doors that barred the entrance to the main hall of the Temple.
Billy was already standing there waiting for her, the boy clad in a golden robe with a crown bedecked with two horns on his head.
He gave her a lopsided grin by way of welcome. ‘Hiya, Sis, see they got you all dressed up to party.’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Thought you were so damned smart, didn’t you, playing this Lilith bitch and aiming to use me so that you got to be Nigga-in-Charge? But you got it wrong. It ain’t me who’s gonna be sacrificed, Sis, but yous. Real classy end for an around-the-way girl like you, eh?’
‘If you would intone the incantation, Your Grace,’ suggested the Grand Mufti.
Billy shrugged. ‘Look, I gotta tell you man—’
The Grand Mufti nodded towards one of his priests, who handed a piece of parchment to Billy. With a shrug the boy read what was written there.
‘Beyond this gate Doge William is no more … the True Messiah stands in his place. And tonight I will use my power to have Loki rise again. Tonight is the time when Loki will come to lead ManKind to the Truth that is HimPerialism, when he will reclaim his throne as the Supreme Ruler of the Nine Worlds. Die knowing that it is your blood that brings the Nine Worlds to perfection.’ Billy laughed. ‘In other words, Sis, your ass is grass.’
The Grand Mufti gave a signal and one of the priests blew on a bronze horn hanging by the gate, the long, mournful note lingering in the crisp night air, reverberating through the Temple. As the note died, the gates opened to reveal that the path they were standing on ran forward into the Temple, the path flanked on each side by a line of priests.
The Ceremony of Awakening had begun.
THE STEAM LAUNCH RAPIDO ON THE NILE RIVER: 23:00
An increasingly frantic Selim checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. The steam launch seemed to be making incredibly slow progress, but then he supposed he should thank ABBA that when he’d got to the docks he’d been able to find a boat ready to sail.
‘How long before we land at the Hub, Captain?’
‘Perhaps thirty minutes, Your Excellency. I am making all speed but we have to be careful. The ForthRight has a number of Monitors patrolling the river and it would not do—’
His explanation was interrupted by a huge explosion to the Cairo side of the river. There seemed to be the mother of all naval battles taking place only half a mile or so from where they were steaming.
‘Damn the ForthRight navy, Captain. Make more speed: the life of His HimPerial Majesty Shaka Zulu is in danger. I must get to the Temple before the Column is lowered into position.’
Orders given, Selim returned to his agitated consideration of the river as it streamed so very slowly past, cursing that semaphores were invisible at night and that NoirVillian scientists hadn’t yet been able to duplicate the ForthRight’s telegraph messaging system.
He checked his watch again. There was still time.
THE FSS HEYDRICH ON THE NILE RIVER: 23:00
Despite the extra lookouts Worden had posted, the attack came out of nowhere. One moment he was supervising the patrolling of the Nile River and the next the Heydrich was reeling from an explosion amidships.
‘Enemy WarJunk to starboard!’ a lookout yelled a little belatedly, but try as he might, Worden couldn’t see what was coming at him from out of the darkness.
Where the fuck …
He trained his spyglass in the direction the lookout was pointing.
There!
He spotted the phosphorescence dancing in the water stirred up by the WarJunk’s bow. Thanks to the moonlight he could just make out the low, menacing silhouette of the ship, its deep bow wave telling him that it was closing fast. The bastard was trying to ram him.
‘Engage target. Gunnery Officer, sight at starboard ninety degrees.’ Immediately the turret housing the two enormous twelve-inch Krupp guns began to rotate. ‘Fire as soon as you have a target.’
‘But do not damage the pontoon!’ screamed Crowley.
All Crowley’s intervention did was confuse the gunners, who fired too soon. Worden watched as two plumes of water rose about a hundred yards aft of the WarJunk, but, thankfully, shy of the pontoon.
‘Reload and be sharp about it.’
Very sharp. The WarJunk was steaming right at the Heydrich and with the tide behind it the bastard thing was moving at eight or nine knots.
There was no time to reload. Trying to keep the panic out of his voice, Worden yelled out fresh orders. ‘Full steam ahead!’ It was too late. Even as he watched, he saw the dark, implacable shape of the WarJunk loom out of the night and smash into the side of the Heydrich.
THE CSS WU ON THE NILE RIVER: 23:05
The noise as the Wu tore into the stern of the Monitor was earshredding, the howl of steel against steel augmented by the screams of the sailors who were crushed by the impact or were scalded to death when the Monitor’s boilers blew. Everything was reduced to a steam- and smoke-filled confusion and, despite having taken a tight grip on a handrail, Trixie still found herself being thrown along the deck as the WarJunk suddenly lost way. The Wu’s bow was forced up and over the Monitor, the ship bullying its way through the stricken vessel, smashing its decking as it went. But as Trixie hauled herself to her feet, she realised that if the Wu didn’t continue to make way – if it was forced to a stop – then it would make easy pickings for the other Monitors they had seen patrolling the river.
‘More steam,’ she shouted, but there was no one to relay the message: LieutenantFemme Lai Choi lay dead with a fifty-centimetre-long rivet sticking out of the back of her head.
Then …
As she looked around for help, the Wu leapt forward like a hound let off its leash. It was a charred Wysochi emerging from the depths of the gun deck who told her why. ‘Enemy gunfire has cut the pontoon free. The Column’s gone.’
THE CRYSTAL PALACE, LONDON: 23:10
Medal-giving duties completed, it was a distinctly unhappy Great Leader Heydrich who returned to his seat of honour high in the balcony facing the stage where the entertainment would be taking place. The incident with that bitch Nadya Krupskaya – a closet RaTionalist, if he’d ever met one – had ruined his evening. Even the prospect of torturing her in the Lubyanka – where she was already being taken – failed to raise his spirits.
But there were other irritants. He should never have agreed to have the Victory celebrations in the Crystal Palace. He hated the place, especially in Summer: there had never been enough ventilation and on a humid night when it was packed with so much sweating humanity it was especially unpleasant, an unpleasantness compounded by the tight, high-necked uniform he was obliged to wear. But it was more than simple humidity and the incident with the Krupskaya girl that was making the atmosphere of the Palace unpalatable, rather it was the perceptible feelin
g of resentment drifting up to him from the ranks of soldiers parading for his benefit.
And the reason for this resentment was simple: his army was tired of fighting. Checkya informers advised that there were mutterings in the ranks, grumbles that, having been at war almost constantly for five years, enough was enough and that too many of the ForthRight’s young men had died. When he had given his speech, he could feel the audience’s unhappiness, and the standing ovation he had been awarded had been almost perfunctory. Only seven minutes! It was an insult and, worse, he suspected that if it hadn’t been for the clappers von Sternberg had seeded into his audience, the applause might have petered out much more quickly than that.
Hopefully though, the appearance of this singer – this Naughty Nightingale – would allow the celebrations to end on a more positive note: the woman was apparently very popular with the men. But even here there were concerns. He turned to von Sternberg sitting to his right. ‘Comrade General, you are sure this woman, this Nightingale person, will perform in an acceptable manner?’
‘Have no concerns in that regard, Comrade Leader. I have sent the woman a very strong message as to what the consequences would be if she should flout decorum. She understands that if she makes any untoward comments regarding any of the Party’s leaders or their policies, she will be immediately arrested and removed to the Lubyanka.’
Heydrich gave a distracted nod. Such a threat should be enough to keep anyone quiescent, but the problem with the working classes was that they had a distinct proclivity for not remaining quiescent. And, as he understood it, the Naughty Nightingale was very working-class.
THE CRYSTAL PALACE, LONDON: 23:10
Having seen such an impressive display of the might of the ForthRight, Empress Borgia judged her decision to surrender the Coven to Heydrich to have been the correct one. Without the Plague weapon it was impossible for the Coven to have stood against such martial might, and by cooperating with the Great Leader she had secured the most generous of surrender terms for her people and reduced the reparations demanded by the victors.
And it was a sign of the favour she was held in that she had been given the seat next to the Great Leader for the celebrations and had been introduced by him to the audience as ‘a great humanitarian and a bringer of peace’.
Peace … that was the problem.
Or more specifically the peace being preached by that bitch Dong E. She couldn’t for the life of her understand why Wu had permitted her to live. Hadn’t the fool realised the potential Dong E had to make trouble? All she could think was that Wu had been so obsessed by having the girl entertain her as a Fresh Bloom that she’d lost sight of the danger she posed.
And now the girl was stirring up trouble by wandering around the Coven preaching that she was the true Empress and that to defeat the ForthRight the people had to embrace Normalism and engage in a policy of peaceful non-cooperation. She’d even managed to close the coal mines by bringing the miners out on strike and Heydrich had been less than impressed by that. Dong E’s influence had grown to such an extent that Borgia had been nervous about leaving the Coven to attend the Victory celebrations. But Crowley had insisted.
She shuffled nervously on her seat as she tried to put these troubling thoughts to one side and to enjoy the show. She was Empress now and above such trifles.
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:10
Vanka pushed himself closer to the edge of the balcony, peeking through the gaps in the balustrade. As the horn’s call echoed away to oblivion, two priests stepped forward and opened the gates to reveal the Grand Mufti and his retinue standing ready to enter the Temple.
The orchestra imitated the horn’s note and with every step the Grand Mufti took into the Temple the music gained in volume, the waves of sound – discordant and disturbing – skittered around the Temple like living things. It was music that betokened darkness and fear. And to complement the unsettling music, the priests ignited briars, filling the Temple with the acerbic scent of Epimedium. Vanka felt it cloying on the back of his throat and immediately became uneasy. People did strange things under the drug’s influence.
Immediately behind the Grand Mufti strode a very tall, a very muscular and a very arrogant-looking man. Vanka supposed that this was Doge William in his guise of the Messiah. It was a reasonable supposition: from what he had heard, Doge William was enormously tall – as this man was – and even though he was swathed in a golden robe and his skin heavily decorated, it was still possible to see he was a Shade.
And a dozen or so paces behind him came two priests escorting a woman. It took Vanka a moment to recognise her: her body was covered with a red oil and she walked with the stumbling gait of someone who had been drugged, but then she raised her head to look defiantly around at the gathered crowd. Vanka’s body clock skipped a beat: it was Ella.
He tried to stay calm. Now was time for him to get nearer to the altar ready to rescue her and to do that he had to move from where he was hiding on the high balcony, down the staircase to the floor of the Temple and then across to the altar. And he had to do all this without being seen or challenged. This he judged to be impossible. There were simply too many people milling around in the Temple; someone was bound to spot him.
In the end it was the Grand Mufti who came to his aid. The man gave a sign to his congregation that they should stand and, taking advantage of the movement of the crowd and every eye being concentrated on the would-be Messiah that was Doge William, Vanka scuttled towards the staircase. He was down it in a trice, amazed by the vigour that fear could put in a man’s stride.
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:10
The oil that the Grand Mufti had used to anoint her must, Ella supposed, have been drugged. She felt so very cold and so very weak. Hardly of this world, she allowed herself to be brought to the altar.
Standing there, she heard the Grand Mufti chant a long complex incantation over her, then saw through misted eyes the man turn to the congregation. ‘We gather tonight on Lammas, the night when Man reigns supreme, the night when the powers of Men are at their height. We gather to sacrifice this Lilithi and by the drinking of her blood ensure that the One True Religion of HimPerialism rules the Nine Worlds.’
Although she had been made sluggish by the oil that covered her body, Ella determined that she would meet death with her head held high. She glared back at the audience that had gathered to witness her sacrifice and she was pleased that not one of them had the courage to meet her gaze.
And it was then that she noticed the Column standing next to the altar waiting to be lowered onto its plinth. At the sight of it she sensed Lilith stir deep inside her, telling her that the Column was wrong … that someone had replaced the original with an imitation. She suppressed a smile. Tonight, she suspected, it wouldn’t only be her who would be merging with the Nothingness that was death.
THE FSS HEYDRICH ON THE NILE RIVER: 23:15
The Heydrich’s pilothouse might have been a confusion of smoke, steam and screams, but at its centre His Holiness the Very Reverend Aleister Crowley remained unnaturally calm; the knowledge that, even as he stood there, the FSS Beria was manoeuvring to take the drifting pontoon under tow made him impervious to the carnage around him.
He had done it! He had captured the Column. Now there was nothing to prevent the triumph of the Aryan people … of UnFunDaMentalism.
‘I would be obliged, Comrade Captain, if you would provide me with a gig and a crew in order that I might transfer to the Beria.’
An astonished Worden – his face blackened by smoke, his uniform in tatters and one arm hanging useless at his side – glared at Crowley and made to protest. ‘With the greatest of respect, Your Holiness, my first duty as a naval officer is to my ship and my crew. I have no time—’
There was the sound of a Luger automatic pistol being cocked and Worden felt the cold brush of its muzzle against the side of his head.
‘This is an operation commanded by the SS-Ordo Templi Aryanis, Comrade Captain, and if you d
o not obey my orders, I will have SS Captain Morant shoot you. The prime imperative of this mission is to seize the Column and then transport it to Terror Incognita. This I will do. Hero of the ForthRight you might be, Worden, but I am careless whether you are dead or alive when the medal is awarded.’
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:30
As he cowered in his new hiding place behind the Column, it seemed to Vanka that the ceremony was now moving into a more serious and dangerous phase. The music rose in volume as Doge William came to stand just in front of the altar, each step he took accompanied by the rhythmic chanting of the crowd and the beat of timpani. There he paused for a moment, then turned and in a voice that resonated through the whole Temple, addressed his congregation.
‘You know me as the Doge William, but now I stand before you as the Messiah, the one who will bring ABBAsoluteness to the Demi-Monde. I have invited you here tonight to witness the rising of a new race of Man, each of whom will be confirmed as one of the Sixty, as one of the Chosen, as one of those who will form the first of the ABBAsoluti … the Perfect. It is they who will sire the species that will come after HumanKind. It is they who will give life to Homo perfectus: the Perfect Man.’
Now he turned to address the sixty priests standing alongside the altar. ‘You are the Men who will bring Perfection to HumanKind. Tonight, by drinking the blood of a Lilithi, all the latent power that resides within you will be released.’
He pointed towards Ella. ‘Prepare her for sacrifice!’ and immediately two priests grabbed the girl by her arms and forced her down onto the altar.
THE CSS WU ON THE NILE RIVER: 23:30
