Sygillis of Metatron

by Ren Garcia

  There were Sisters everywhere. Some had faces that he recognized, and some he'd never seen before. They sat and watched him pass, silent, smiling as usual.

  He remembered what Ennez had told him—that the Sisters aboard the Seeker liked him, cherished him even. He'd never considered the Sisters actually liking him. Certainly they were always kind and patient, but he'd always thought them above having mere affection for an individual. How could they "like" someone, after all? They were the Sisters. They had the whole League to think of. He considered the notion and blushed. He certainly didn't want to disappoint them. He thought about the Sister who often came to his office, the one with the figure. She seemed to like him a lot.

  They giggled as he passed.

  Kilos guided him to the Priory Gates, an ornately decorated series of rooms that led to the interior. There, Kilos stopped.

  A Sister, his Sister, emerged, and smiling, she took Davage by the arm and led him in.

  "You're not coming, Ki?" Dav asked, a little hesitant.

  The Sister looked up at him.

  "I can't go any further, Dav—I haven't been invited. The Sister says she will take good care of you."

  The Sister led him into what appeared to be a grove. She clung to his arm, small and dainty—but strong. He could feel her strength. He had always heard that the Sisters were strong—powerhouses—but he'd never experienced it until now. Davage was strong, and with his Gift of Strength, he was incredibly strong, but he guessed this tiny Sister was far and away stronger than he was.

  He looked around. They walked through a vast maze of plants and old, moss-covered stone. He looked up and thought he saw stars… He thought to Sight the area but didn't want to appear rude.

  "We are … no longer aboard the ship, are we, Sister?" he asked.

  She smiled at him and laced her fingers through his. Davage was holding hands with a Sister. He didn't quite know what to think. He could feel a slight tingle dancing around his head. She was talking to him … speaking in that wonderful empathy, which he couldn't hear. What was she saying, he wondered?

  "I am sorry, Sister. I cannot understand you."

  She pulled his hat off of his head with her free hand. Then, stopping, she removed her headdress, her hair fell out and she straightened it. Not damp as before, Davage noticed her hair was platinum blonde, almost a brilliant white. She popped his hat on her head. She then pointed at his CARG.

  "My CARG, Sister? You wish to see my CARG?"

  He unsaddled it and showed it to her. It was a heavy weapon, weighing over seventy pounds. She examined it for a moment and took it from him, its weight not fazing her in the slightest. She felt its length. She noticed it was not bladed; it was smooth to the touch. She was puzzled.

  "Not … sword?" she struggled to say.

  "No, it's not a sword. It is the family weapon of my line. My father created this particular one."

  She went up to a thick old tree and rapped the CARG against its trunk. She then handed it back to him and pointed at the tree.

  "You want me to chop the tree down?"

  She nodded.

  He readjusted the CARG's hilt in his hand and brought the shaft flush against the tree trunk. "Watch carefully, Sister. This is called Sadric's Cut. Just a novelty, really, but is interesting to be sure. I am told that my father once used this cut to impress my mother, who was known for appreciating a fine weapon's stroke."

  The Sister watched. Then, in a quick second, he moved the shaft through the thick trunk and reversed, making a thin cross-section of the stump. The tree shuddered, lost a leaf or two, and then stood.

  The Sister clapped. Smiling, she pushed the tree over with a flick of her wrist. It toppled in a noisy heap.

  She picked up the cross-section, admiring it. Using her finger, she began carving letters into the fresh wood. When she was almost finished, Davage heard a crack from above, like a thunderbolt. The Sister heard it too, looked annoyed, and tossed the cross-section away. Appearing sad, she gave Dav his hat back, donned her headdress, and again took Davage by the hand, leading him away.

  Looking back, Davage saw what she had written on the wood. It said, "Please kiss me."

  They continued. Ahead was a huge, domed building draped in vine, and scented plants that loomed into the night sky. They went in.

  There sitting inside was the Grand Abbess.

  "Welcome, Captain," she said.

  Davage took off his hat. "Grand Abbess, well met. Clearly, I received your summons. I am here at last."

  "Thank you for coming, Captain. Please, sit down."

  Davage seated himself. The Sister who had guided him here stood, smiling. The Grand Abbess gave her a quick glance and the Sister turned and left.

  "It seems you have an admirer, Captain. The Sister is saddened that she cannot speak to you directly. Much is lost when speaking through a Marine. So much thought and feeling not properly conveyed."

  "Perhaps when time allows, I might persuade Lieutenant Kilos to instruct me. I should be honored to commune with the Sisterhood directly."

  The Grand Abbess looked at him a moment. "The Sister should know better—such things as she is experiencing are forbidden."

  "Please … if there is any fault to be doled out, then I am certainly to blame."

  "Trouble yourself not, Captain. You have not acted out of turn, and nor has she. These things happen. We are all Elder, after all—we have feelings too. She will be fine. And I must say, I cannot fault her taste."

  Davage looked at his hat on the table.

  "I am sorry if I presented myself in such a way that presented …"

  "Again, Captain, you are not to blame. You are a fine man, as your father was before you. I remember Sadric well. Many ladies across League Society admire you, so why not a Sister, though she knows she cannot proceed. Perhaps, one day when her time comes, you will delight her and allow yourself to participate in her 'program.' That will make her very happy, I think."

  "I shall … look forward to it. So, Grand Abbess, what can I do for you? This is certainly a rare and unusual honor."

  She hesitated a bit. "I have someone who wishes to speak to you, Captain."

  "I see."

  She looked down at the table for a moment. "Please, do not be alarmed … and know that I am here."

  Davage didn't quite know how to take that statement. He became apprehensive.

  At the far end of the table, a twisting, smoky cloud, like a pillar of brimstone, formed. It rose to the ceiling, flattening, spreading out, hissing slightly.

  After a moment Davage Sighted a figure inside the cloud, a red, ominous figure, coalescing, growing like a transparent bladder filling with blood.

  The top of the cloud split open, and like an ear of rotten corn, a red figure burst out and hovered; the cloud around it continuing to seethe and twist.

  It looked like a robed female, small, dainty, with tiny, almost nonexistent shoulders. Her face and head were covered with a black sash that floated with ethereal movement. Davage could not see her legs— they were lost in the black cloud. He Sighted; there were no legs there to be seen. Clearly, this was a projection of some sort.

  The figure hovered in the cloud with a smokelike grace.

  "Captain Davage, allow me to introduce Magravine … the Black Abbess of the Black Hat Sisterhood."

  The figure, Magravine, regarded Davage for a moment. He felt his insides blanch.

  "Well, Grand Abbess, this is a surprise," Davage said composing himself. "I had no idea the Sisterhood maintains ties with the leadership of the Black Hat Order."

  "Not ties," the Black Abbess said, her voice a crawling, malevolent sneer. "An understanding."

  "Indeed, Captain," the Grand Abbess said. "We have no formal ties to the Black Hat Sisterhood. We do, however, maintain an occasional dialog with their leadership. Such an arrangement allows us to … lay out the groundwork for how our struggle will proceed."

  "Every conflict has rules. We are not uncivilized," the Black
Abbess said, her voice surprisingly baritone for such a tiny person.

  Davage greatly wanted to be elsewhere. "I see," he said.

  "The Black Abbess has pointed out that we, the Sisterhood I am referring to, have not followed the rules."

  "You have not killed Sygillis of Metatron," the Black Abbess said.

  "You are correct, and as far as I am aware, she will not be killed in the days to come," Davage said.

  The Black Abbess twitched. "That is not our agreement. There are to be no survivors. They are all to be killed. No quarter is to be given. Sygillis was defeated upon the battlefield, and her life is forfeit. I am owed compliance."

  The Grand Abbess spoke up. "That is not quite correct, Abbess. Sygillis of Metatron should have attempted to kill herself in the creation of mayhems after her capture. She chose not to do so."

  "That matter is of … considerable concern to us. She is a Hammer, trained to fight. She should have killed Captain Davage by this point, or died trying. He is a prime target in our minds. He is a fair target."

  "I was hoping to find good in her, Abbess. I believe I was successful."

  The Black Abbess looked at Davage; she paused, and then spoke as if she were speaking to a lesser animal. "She knows nothing but what we have taught her. We have taught her to fight. We have taught her to hate and to kill, and she has done that well and often … up until now."

  "Yet, she has not fought me, and on several occasions. She has not tried to kill me."

  "Then she has failed. She is dead to us."

  "She has not failed, ma'am. Perhaps, with her wisdom, we might one day see an end to our bitter conflict. I was hoping that one day we could reach out and embrace you as our own again. It is a dream I now share with my departed father."

  The Black Abbess glared at him. Her voice became chiding, condescending. "That … can never happen. Is that not right, Grand Abbess?"

  The Grand Abbess looked down for a moment. "It does seem … unlikely."

  Davage stood up. "Well, this meeting has been most pleasant. However, I will not kill Sygillis, nor will I authorize her killing in the near future."

  "You have no authority over the Sisterhood, Captain, certainly that has dawned on you at some point. Abbess, I demand the life of Sygillis of Metatron immediately!"

  The Grand Abbess sat silent.

  "If you or the Sisterhood wish to take her life, I must be passed through first," Davage said.

  The Black Abbess cackled. "And you think that is a … concern of some sort, do you, Captain? How large a speck do you fancy you are to the Sisterhood, hmmm?"

  "That is enough, Abbess," the Grand Abbess said. "We are not you … empty and cruel. We are devoted to this man, for he has earned our love in heart and in deed. He is an inspiration to us."

  "Truly," the Black Abbess said. "See you his father in him, do you not? Your … indiscretions are showing, Abbess."

  The Grand Abbess stood, furious. "Not another word, I warn you!"

  "Then, give her to me, and I will depart. Nothing more will be said. I will kill her if you've not the stomach."

  "Enough!" Davage shouted. "I've no interest in your lies. Sygillis of Metatron will not be killed whilst I've strength to stand guard over her."

  "Know you the blood she has spilled? Innocent, screaming League blood."

  "That was in another life; I hold her not responsible. She did your bidding as a slave, an automaton, nothing more."

  The Grand Abbess turned to Davage. "Captain, perhaps we could …"

  "She has requested asylum, Grand Abbess. I will not turn her away or allow her to be led to her death. She is no longer a prisoner. She is now an exile requesting assistance."

  "Asylum," the Black Abbess spat. "She'll ask for no such thing …"

  "Nevertheless, it has been granted."

  "Captain, you are truly as insufferable as your reputation dictates." The Black Abbess grew large and terrible in her black cloud.

  "You will give her to me now, Captain. You will meet us in space, and you will give her up."

  "I will not."

  "You will face the gaze of the Black Abbess? You dare to face our black legions?"

  "Any hostile Xaphan vessels in range with a closed fist will be sunk. You doubtless know me; you know what I can do."

  "We will give you no peace. We will claw at you."

  "I wonder, Abbess, if you wear a bow in your hair as she does?"

  "Then 'tis the whole of it. Be advised, failure to either kill or remand her into my custody will result in a call to open war against you."

  "I am so advised. Thank you."

  "We will not rest until she is either dead or you and your crew are dead along with her."

  "Thank you. Again, I am advised."

  "Captain," the Grand Abbess said. "Are you certain you wish this course of action?"

  "I am. I will not abandon one who has requested my help."

  "Then … let it begin. And Captain … were I in your situation, I would not stray too far from the Sister's side, for the Phantom Hand will be waiting, I promise you that."

  "He has our protection wherever he may go," the Grand Abbess said, standing. "And I look forward to turning your Mass right back at you. Perhaps you will meet your foul end at last."

  "Why, Abbess, I have not seen such passion from you in some time. How many other Fleet captains … the sons of special friends … receive such personal attention, I wonder?"

  "I have allowed you free reign for too long, and that is over. If Captain Davage believes Sygillis of Metatron is worth saving, then she will be saved!"

  The Black Abbess quivered with rage. "Not for he nor anyone else!"

  She raised her hand, and it grew into an ugly claw. She appeared on the verge of hitting the Grand Abbess. Davage Sighted. Most of the Black Abbess appeared to be a mere projection of some sort, but her clawed hand—it appeared very real.

  Springing to action, Davage unsaddled his CARG and jumped in front of the Grand Abbess, holding his weapon in the usual Blanchefort guard position.

  The Black Abbess, her claw still raised, looked at Davage, incredulous behind her black, featureless mask. She was speechless for a moment, and then she snorted … a wicked laugh perhaps?

  She lowered her hand, wiggled the clawed fingers at Davage, then the hand disappeared. Bobbing slightly, she made an odd motion, like she was blowing him a kiss. He could smell brimstone.

  "It seems you wish to sit at my table, Captain. Very well, a chair is offered. What began as a mere annoyance now has my full personal attention. You, sir, are fully in the gaze of the Black Abbess."

  She thought for a moment. "Perhaps having Sygillis killed is too hasty a judgment—yes, yes, I see that now. You wish her saved, you wish her to smile and laugh and do all the little things little people do—to frolic with you in some green pasture. Then, if only to spite your tiny, insect face, I wish her returned, I wish her a Black Hat again, only this time not in some far-flung temple in Metatron. This time she will sit at my side in the Shade Church where the darkness is stifling. The lives she will take, the terror she will inspire."

  She rose into a clutching, choking mass. "You wish to play the game with the Black Abbess, then it shall be played. I will have Sygillis back as a deadly Black Hat. I will see the Seeker in flames for this inconvenience, and I will lay you, Captain Davage, dead … dead …DEAD, with not even a soul left to swallow!"

  The Black Abbess cackled a blood-freezing laugh and vanished.

  The Grand Abbess took a deep breath and sighed.

  Davage stood there, holding his CARG. He suddenly felt ridiculous for his gallant outburst in front of the Grand Abbess—an ant rising up to defend a lion. What must she be thinking?

  He felt humiliated.

  "I am sorry, Great Abbess. I did not mean to embarrass you." He began to saddle his CARG, but the Grand Abbess reached out and touched it.

  "I remember when your father made this weapon. I was there; I added a few things of
my own to its making. I blessed it. Now, the son of that fine man raises it in my defense."

  "I will take my leave, and again, I apologize for—"

  The Grand Abbess put her hand on his cheek. "You have been troubled, Captain, have you not? Samaritan Ennez told you the other day that we of the Sisterhood liked you, and you were humbled with this knowledge, burdened even. You felt that you unknowingly set a standard of some sort and must now live up to it. You are afraid you will fail us somehow, disappoint us."

  Davage looked at the floor.