The Righteous Whisper of Allsaints (The White Blood Chronicles Book 2)
Page 38
Darkseid walked down the stone steps, her steel edged boots clicking as she descended into the basement area of the church. At the bottom of the stair well she saw nobody and walked into the basement. It was empty apart from three acolytes who had been left to guard one of the stores. Presumably where Thaindire was kept prisoner. A thought occurred to her that she might look in on him. She had not been in close contact with a white blood before and she would be interested to see what one looked like close at hand.
Palea heard the clicking become louder as somebody else entered the basement. She remained stock still, looking out from underneath the bed. This was not the quiet leather of a Manfurian’s boots but another. She saw the black, shiny leather booted feet appear and walk past the end of the bed, heading towards the stores. Palea scuttled round and proceeded, using the cover of the clicking footsteps to move more quickly, sliding under another bed, a third and then a fourth. The clicking stopped as Palea reach the fifth bed. She heard a quiet voice greet the guards, but could not make out everything that was being said. Knowing the quartet to be distracted by their conversation, Palea slithered forward and past three more beds before she reached the wall, which separated the first store from the lodging area. She drew up against the cold stone and moved along the wall, reaching a long tapestry that had been hung to decorate the basement. Palea drew both the daggers that she carried, the blades sliding noiselessly from their scabbards as she reached the end of the tapestry and the end of the wall. She could hear the figures talking, as they stood just around the corner from her. The assassin whispered to herself,
“ By Nimast’s scythe I slay.”
Haspengoun then leapt around the corner to commence her attack.
Novac held the attention of the assembly of Manfurians and Selnians. They sat in the nave of the church, faces upturned in rapt concentration. The Arch Priest’s voice echoed throughout the church, his words reverberating against the solid walls.
“ Thus our Grand Design nears completion, the product of our endeavour over the last few years, arduous endeavour, committed endeavour. An endeavour that strives each and every day to further our reach and influence. Worshippers of Selne, our brothers in blood, you will have your day, the culmination and reward for your faithful adherence to our values. The blood of the unbelievers will and must be shed for there will be those who will stand in our way.”
Novac watched as the blood maidens nodded at his comment, various murmurs of assent emanating from the villagers.
“ They must be torn apart. They must know and feel the wrath of you Selnians. For too long, you have had to seek sanctuary in Aftlain, shrouded from the eyes of the world, distant and isolated. They failed to understand your gifts. They have cast doubt on your many talents, castigating you and deeming you practitioners in unholy arts. Well, know this, brothers and sisters of Selne, they shall persecute no longer. Your time has come. With the ancient powers that Aftlain sits upon, you will rise and exact retribution against those who have demonstrated intolerance, ignorance and hatred. Let them buckle under your might, grind them into the dirt and show not one shred of mercy. Has the High Church ever accorded mercy to you?”
The Selnians all shook their heads at Novac’s question.
“ Indeed, not satisfied with hounding you from your homes, your businesses, family and livelihoods, they then seek to strike at the very heart of your existence, here in Aftlain, by exercising their prejudice in the form of the Order of Allsaints. Repeatedly, they have dispatched their foul riders, the so-called witch hunters, to come to this most sacred and special place and rail against it. Thrice, they have entered this village, spreading lies masquerading as holy truth. They have moved amongst you, prying and delving, casting scorn on your ways from their self-appointed loftiness. Yet, Aftlain has come through these tests. Do you know why? I will tell you why. Aftlain has overcome these intolerant examiners and prejudiced practitioners of hatred because Aftlain is the chosen, sacred place. This is the birthplace of the power that gives you each your talents and crafts. Such is the supremacy of this power, it cannot and will not be defeated. It will not matter how many times the white bloods venture here. Three have come here, two have been hounded from the village and the remainder is beholden to us now, as prisoner. They will, however, not heed this failure on their part. No, such is their arrogance that they will try again and again and again. This is no concern, for not only have you shown that you will not bend to the will of the white bloods, you are now on the cusp of unleashing the might that will enable you to take the fight to them and drive them from this land.”
The congregations murmured its approval at Novac’s words. He gave a nod and let his gaze sweep across the congregation.
“ Do we not allow the talented to flourish here?” asked the Archpriest.
“ We do,” said Strivelyn.
“ Yes we do Master Strivelyn. Do we not support the use and expansion of the gifted that abounds here?”
“ We do,” cried Talvace.
“ Do we not show tolerance, understanding and encouragement to those that are blessed in the many crafts?”
“ Yes, we do,” said the blood maidens in unison.
“ Yes, yes we do, yet the High Church decries those who have gifts. They are branded as unholy. They are labelled as practitioners of dark arts. They are hunted down across Albion and brought before the prejudiced Order of the Allsaints, which prosecutes without mercy, without regard for the truth, only seeking to maintain their supremacy. For too long have they taken the innocent and imprisoned them. For too long they have closed down businesses spreading ruin and misery. For too long they have been able to reign through fear and oppression. No longer. No longer will this happen. Brothers and sisters of Selne, you have been aided by our Lord of Darkness, the Prince of Moons, Manfur. For with our coming, we can unlock the mighty and fearsome secrets that this village rests on. Through Manfur, we have given you more than hope. We have given you purpose and through that purpose you will be liberated from the shackles of prejudice. Selnians, you must rise and ensure that your brothers and sisters in the village rise also to seize their freedom and to cast down the oppressors from the High Church of Albion and its most dangerous organ, the Order of Allsaints.”
The assembled Selnians nodded and called out their affirmation of Novac’s decrees to them. He let them vocalise their support before raising a hand for silence.
“ In a matter of days, a force shall be unleashed from Aftlain that will wash over the land of Albion. A dark, focussed and invincible cloak will be draped across the land, spreading in all directions from this sacred village. Wave after wave of our number will be awoken and sent forth to free the enslaved, to bring hope to those who even now hide their talents from the world, in the many villages, towns and cities of Albion. Yes, there are many of our kin out there.” Novac pointed a gloved finger beyond the church.
“ Many of our kin who must conceal themselves and live a life of daily fear, terrified of their unmasking. We shall lift that terror. The Church of Manfur shall, as it has always done, lead and with the help of the Churches of Selne and Nimast, with our brother Chelanites and the fury of the Helerians, drive out the false High Church, strike down the Order of Allsaints and restore us and our kind to their rightful places across this land.”
Now it was the turn of the Manfurians to exhibit their fervour. The assembled night worshippers raised their hands and declared various oaths in praise of their dark lord. Novac nodded in satisfaction.
“ My brothers and sisters, the time is upon us. Let us break the chains of intolerance and persecution, destroy the High Church of Albion and conquer those who oppose or are unwilling to stand with us. As reward for our most perfect devotion, we have been blessed with the instruments to achieve our goals. Those instruments, immense and terrible to those who oppose us, will give us the day. They will govern us no more. This is our time. Let the uprising begin!” bellowed Novac shaking both his fists to emphasise his fervour.
“ Now it begins,” said Novac to himself, raising his hands once again to acknowledge the continued adulation of those beneath him.
“ Darkness shall reign complete.”
* * * * *
Follow the White Blood Chronicles
Book One : The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge
Book Three : The Noble Corrupt The Insidious Charm
Book Four : The Naked Fury of the Risen
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