The official story was that they had colluded with the Feral and had attempted to draw the Ninety-First Legion into an ambush. The plot had been foiled by the valiant efforts of the traitors’ own brother, Lucan, and the enemy had been routed. Seeing that their plot had failed, the two traitorous brothers had attacked the benevolent Mi Balor when he had personally visited the Legion to extend his congratulations on their historic victory.
The trial was an opportunity to remind the Guest of the dangers of the Feral, an opportunity to celebrate an historic victory, as well as an opportunity to remind the Guest of the consequences of crossing the Host.
The trial had mainly been a platform for Mi Balor to hold forth on the gross infringements on his dignity. As the highest ranking officer in the Northern Campaign, not only was he the injured party, but he was the judge as well. The result of the trial was never in doubt, providing little entertainment for the mob, but the sentencing, now that would be interesting; hence, the sentences being handed down were the subject of fierce betting.
The Ogra curse was getting best odds for Bral for some reason, while it seemed most of the gamblers were expecting the Nightfeeder Curse for Hael.
Hael himself, unaware of the odds of the various sentences, just hoped for something that would not rob him of his intellect. As long as he could think, he would persevere and he would find a way to bring the Host to its knees. Nightfeeder would be fine, so would exile or the mines or even being cursed to be a Mason working on the New Prime Temple. If he was made Ogra or Trolla or one of the other brutish beasts that the Campaigns needed, his struggle would end.
The sound of a door opening drew his attention. He looked up to see Mi Balor enter. He was now dressed in blue; it appeared he had changed his allegiance and was now aligned to the Orthodox Party. He had also changed his sigil. Where once there was a hand grasping a sword, there was now an open eye embroidered in shiny black thread.
You see, Balor had not regenerated his missing eye. He had placed a black opal in the empty socket, contrasting with the icy blue of his remaining eye. Hael had to drag his gaze away from the stone, as looking at it, he felt like he was falling into a pit of oblivion. Hael had no doubt the jewel was a Lens and a powerful one as well, judging by its size. It appeared that Balor had needed to widen his eye socket to fit it in. Hael also guessed that Balor was wearing the stone as a badge of honor and a reminder to his peers that the Guest could not be trusted. Balor exuded good cheer as he entered the room. This curdled to annoyance when he could not detect any fear in Hael.
Hael was not afraid; all he felt was anger. They had lied to him. They were part of the system that had lied to the entire Guest species since Emergence. The Guest were slaves, like the Ferals; they just didn’t know it.
Balor: Come along, boys, we mustn’t keep the Emperor waiting.
Balor had been granted the boon of sentencing Hael by His Imperial Majesty Enki II. Balor looked to the Emperor, who lent him some of his Might.
Mi Balor, Supreme Commander of the Northern Campaign: Fa Hael, yours was the lesser crime.
With the Emperor’s help, Balor’s sending was powerful enough to the heard by everyone in the City.
Mi Balor, Supreme Commander of the Northern Campaign: However, you enabled this filth to injure me. Personally, I felt that you should share the same punishment as your brother; however, some of my peers prevailed upon me to grant you a lesser sentence. You will be a Mason. We will not let your potential go to waste; you will labor in the construction of the New Prime Temple.
None of the punishments were particularly benign, but this one, at least, maintained his personality. He would be forced to work and work hard; he would be lucky to survive for more than a few months under the brutal desert sun, but he would not be made into some mindless monster. Hael exhaled some of the pressure that had been building in his chest and stomach, realizing at least he had a little time.
Time to plan.
Time to escape.
Time to fight.
Balor now bowed to the Enki II.
The Emperor’s Lens glowed brightly atop his crown, as all eyes turned to him and could not look away. He manifested his Dread aspect and all who viewed him, Host and Guest, trembled before his might. It appeared that the Emperor was going to sentence Bral Himself. This was not good. The Emperor’s sending dwarfed that of Balor. Hael would not be surprised if some of the Legions in the field could pick it up.
His Imperial Majesty, Eternal Emperor Enki II, Supreme Ruler of City and Empire, Hero of the Rebellion and Scourge of the Feral: The one known as Ga Bral has committed treason against the Host. Treason against those who offered succor and guidance to his people for two thousand years. Treason against the ones who made his people more than mere animals.
Hael had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Treason, they were calling it treason.
His Imperial Majesty, Eternal Emperor Enki II, Supreme Ruler of City and Empire, Hero of the Rebellion and Scourge of the Feral: Ga Bral will be confined in the holding cells while the Adepts of My Court, My One Hundred Companions, prepare for a Major Working.
No, no, no.
His Imperial Majesty, Eternal Emperor Enki II, Supreme Ruler of City and Empire, Hero of the Rebellion and Scourge of the Feral: Ga Bral shall be Cast Out into the Outer Darkness. At such a time as he may return, millennia hence, he shall be Cast Out again, to abide in Darkness for all of eternity. I so rule.
Hael choked back a sob even as he bowed with everyone else in the City to the Emperor’s overwhelming Compulsion. No punishment was harsher.
After allowing himself that one sob, he took a deep breath and armored his heart, so it felt like a lump of stone in his chest. In the months he had left he would find a way, some way, to repay this new debt.
Epilogue
Edinburgh, Scotland, 2015
Leader, Don and Lew had managed to break into the home on Johnston Terrace by the time Little Eve arrived. Leader was not happy with Eve’s failure to report Baby’s absences, but she was too busy to discipline her right away. The anticipation of punishment would be useful in reestablishing order in the coven. If that did not work, she would burn the coven to the ground and start over again.
They still did not know his name, but they were almost certain that he was the boy they had shredded all those years ago in the University town where they found Baby. Leader commanded Don and Lew to search the house for anything that would confirm the identity of Charlie’s vivisectionist. They would sweep through the house and grab as much of his belongings as they could find, with a view to reviewing it later for cues to his capabilities.
If all else failed, they could identify him by reviewing press clippings from the time of their attack twenty-one years before.
They could not tarry. They were broadcasting a general Compulsion to keep away the curious, but there were limits, even to a Compulsion powered by the entire coven. Eventually the disturbance they had caused would draw the Herd law enforcement like ants to a jam sandwich dropped on the sidewalk. So, as Don and Lew swept the house for clues, Leader and Little Eve went to the sub-basement to see if there was anything left of Charlie.
The room she had been imprisoned in was still hot. There were no flames left, but everything was charred black and radiating heat. Eve needed to be careful; that amount of heat, if not monitored, could overload her system and incinerate her. Although it was not easy, she made sure to radiate more heat than she absorbed. She knew Don and Lew would have combusted from the heat; they could absorb but not redirect energy. It was one of her little secrets. One that Leader seemed well aware of and one she seemed to share.
There was nothing left in the room but ash, twisted metal and a large obsidian egg about two feet long and one foot wide. Leader probed the egg.
Leader: Charlie, is that you?
: Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfri…
Leader –> Eve: This is Charlie, take her.
Eve –> Leader: Will she recover?
Little Eve: We are leaving?
Leader: After what happened today, we will not be able to return to this city for years. The risk of exposure would be too great. And we need to find Baby and her boyfriend. They will suffer for this. Search for their escape route.
Don and Lew found the hidden doorway a few minutes later and called over Leader. As she approached, a figure materialized out of the darkness. The figure wore a cream robe and smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth.
Leader spoke. She would not touch his mind directly; the danger was too great.
“Hael, you interfere where you shouldn’t. The girl is one of mine. According to all the rules and covenants, she is mine.”
“You know I am not one to follow the rules, not anymore.”
“You were the author of the rules.”
“Yes and things change … even you and I change. The Return approaches and this time I believe he will get free. We need to put aside our differences, we must stand united.”
“You betrayed me long ago; I will never forgive you for that.”
Hael hung his head and said, “I know I did and I will forever be ashamed that I did nothing, but, please, think about it. Please, Clea.”
He faded and the tunnel behind the hidden door collapsed.
Don, Lew and Eve looked at Leader. Clea? Was that her name? It was hard to imagine Leader as anything other than Leader.
Leader directed them to grab the egg that was Charlie and then flowed up the stairs and out of the house.
The street was quiet, but not quite empty. One would have expected that the commotion caused by ripping a power line out of the road would have attracted some notice, but it hadn’t.
Down the street from the ripped-up cobbles on Johnston Terrace there was a white van. On the door of the van was a logo: two circles, one inside the other, that contained a series of lightning bolts radiating from a central point.
The van contained two large men wearing sunglasses, despite the rain and clouds.
The men observed four apparently young people coming out of the red door nestled between a pub and a jeweler. They carried a glassy black egg.
Shadows swirled around them, and the shadowy mass rocketed along Johnston Terrace away from the van.
A man came out of the pub-adjacent door the young people had used and looked at the ripped-up road in puzzlement. He pulled out his phone to make a call.
Rebecca and Finn were driving along a winding road in the Cairngorms. They had left the city via the Forth Road Bridge and continued north into the mountains.
They passed sheep and bracken and rocks and not much else, until they came to a turnoff into a wooded area, flanked by a couple of short stone walls to either side of the opening.
The road was paved; however, the edges of the pavement were disintegrating into the brush and trees it cut through. As they left the wooded tunnel, they broke through to an opening in front of a massive grey stone manor house with a circular drive outside. Finn parked the car on the drive and got out of the car. He strode around the car and opened the door for Rebecca. She had woken up on the drive. She had not said one word to him. After she stepped out, he slammed the door behind her.
Finn leapt up the steps and pulled the bell pull hanging beside the door. Rebecca waited at the bottom of the stairs, looking uncomfortable in the woolen hat he had bought to obscure her duct tape headband.
The door opened a few minutes later.
A short, toad-like man opened the door.
He looked confused, then a smile broke across his face. “Finn, you fucking cunt, what the fuck happened to you? How the fuck did you grow a fuckin’ eye back? Is that fuckin’ Bex behind you as well? I thought she was fuckin’ dead. So, how the fuck are you?”
“Hi, Jonni, um, I don’t want to be rude, but, are you on something?” said Finn.
“Oh aye, just a little coke. And some speed. Parliament isnae in session, you know, being the Under-Secretary of State for European Affairs is fuckin’ stressful. I need a little relaxation time once in a while ya ken.”
“No, I don’t, but that doesn’t matter.” Finn looked down the stairs at Bex. “We need to get out of the country; can you get us some passports or something?”
“Of course I fuckin’ can, ya cunt. We’re pals, right? I have some blanks in my office; how do you think I can afford this place? The salary of a junior Minister is not what it used to be.” He turned and shouted over his shoulder into the house, “Duchess, you will not fucking believe who has come to visit.” He looked over to Bex and put his hand to the side of his mouth and said in a marginally lower tone. “How the fuck is she still so fuckin’ hot, pal? She looks as good as she did twenty odd years ago,” said Jonni.
“Don’t ask,” said Finn.
In a prison cell sat a man consumed by rage.
The bitch had made a fool of him and he would hunt her down. If he ever got out of this hell hole, he would hunt her down and make her pay.
One of the Screws opened the slot in his door. “Got a visitor.”
He climbed to his feet and waited for the door to open. A visitor was rare; none of his mates had stood by him when he got nicked. They thought it was hilarious that his wife had been fucking the slob who lived next door. He had come to realize that he really did not have mates, just people he hung around with and intimidated. Oh well, fuck ’em … he was better off on his own.
The Screw led him through the damp concrete warren that the Victorians had built to house their prisoners. That it was still a functioning prison was a testament to Victorian durability, or successive governments’ lack of desire or inability to invest in the prison system. The prison would probably last another hundred years, as there was little to break down; there were not even toilets in the cells, just bowls that the prisoners slopped out each morning.
They brought him into a private visitor room. He didn’t even know that the prison had a private visitor room. Inside the room was a fit older woman wearing a suit. He probably wouldn’t have looked twice at her before that bitch Rachel had wrecked his life. But a year in lockup could change your perspective. The smell of her perfume made him hard.
He sat down opposite her. She motioned to the Screw to leave.
Silly old bint, he thought to himself. He eased back in his chair and prepared to stand. He had nothing to lose; they had sentenced him to twenty five years for chucking that fat bastard through the window. He would not have much time, but at the very least he would be able to grope her before the guard returned.
“Ray, may I call you Ray?” she said. When he did not respond, she continued.
“My name is Wendy and I can get you out of here, and I can help you find her. I can help you find Rachel. Her real name is Rebecca, Rebecca Jones.”
Ray sat back and smiled a ferocious smile.
150 Million Kilometers from Earth, the Outer Darkness
The rock appeared to be motionless in the darkness. It was actually hurtling at a tremendous speed towards a slightly brighter pinprick of light amongst the billions of other pinpricks of light set into the stygian blackness.
On the rock was a smooth black glass pillar.
As the years passed and light of the brightest pinprick increased, the pillar’s appearance did not change, but deep within thought stirred, thoughts of revenge and retribution.
Out in the darkness similar rocks with similar pillars hurtled towards the ever-brightening light.
The Time of Return approached and this time they would not be Cast Out.
Here Ends Ancient Evil, Book 1 of the First Genocide
Ancient Evil (The First Genocide Book 1) Page 27
