Dark Immolation

by Christopher Husberg

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You’re still in Tinska, aren’t you?”

  The Black Matron had ordered Astrid to bring Knot to Triah. Astrid had not yet been successful.

  “It is proving more difficult than I’d hoped,” Astrid whispered. She kept her eyes on the door, on the light that shone through the crack underneath. She watched for shadows; she wouldn’t be caught again. Or nearly caught—she thought back to Brynne, when Knot had almost discovered her.

  “Then I expect you to overcome those difficulties. Get him here, immediately.”

  “Why do you need him anyway?” Astrid asked, and immediately winced. That was exactly the type of question she should have learned not to ask.

  “That is not your concern,” the Black Matron said. “Getting him here is. If you want any hope of salvation, of shedding your immortal coil and embracing death and forgiveness, you will redouble your efforts. Failure is not an option, girl.”

  Astrid breathed slowly and deeply. Death and forgiveness. The one she deserved, the other she did not. But the Black Matron promised her both.

  She had grown fond of Knot. She couldn’t deny that. But she had longed for death for far longer, and the Black Matron promised her absolution from her sins. If she did what they ordered her to do, Astrid would obtain forgiveness.

  “I will not fail,” Astrid whispered.

  “See that you do not.” The Black Matron severed the connection.

  Astrid closed her eyes. She was not a fool. She knew that following the orders of someone called the “Black Matron,” who operated in secret and tortured her if she did not do what was asked, couldn’t be in the service of anything good. And yet what the Black Matron had shown her had been real. The forgiveness they offered was tangible. A new beginning; a clean ending. But that did not change the fact that Astrid hated herself for every moment she spent in the horrible woman’s employ.

  She rose from the bed and found her smallclothes, and her favorite dark-green dress—the most fancy item of clothing she owned, made of thick, soft cloth and trimmed with gold. Fake gold, anyway, that was more of a faded yellow now than gold, but it had once been a pretty dress. Astrid blinked, looking at the garment, realizing how long she had owned the thing. Longer than she cared to admit.

  But it was the nicest thing she had, and today seemed a day to wear something special.

  This morning, Jane was continuing the work of establishing the Church of Canta.

  * * *

  Knot watched as Astrid made her way towards him, her cloak drawn up over her head. The girl was late. She should have been here long before the speeches started. That was the consequence, Knot conceded, of allowing Ader to wake Astrid up.

  She was here now, though, and that was all that mattered. Knot chewed his cheek. He still, after all this time, couldn’t shake the feeling that the girl was hiding something. She was likely hiding many things, though, as most people did.

  “What’d I miss?” Astrid asked, stepping beside Knot.

  “Nothing yet, lucky for you.”

  She looked around. “Where’s the cotir? I thought they’d want to witness this.”

  “Got called back to Tinska on business. Should be back tomorrow or the next day.” As relieved as Knot was to be rid of the cotir, their presence had become oddly comforting.

  “I bet you’re—”

  “Astrid,” Knot said firmly, “get to your post.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  Astrid leaped up onto the dais, taking her place just as Jane stood to address the crowd. A dozen of the guards Knot and Eward had trained stood at the base of the dais, the blackened remains of the ash tree rising above them, while the others had been scattered throughout the audience. Knot was not taking any chances.

  Today was, officially, the first day of the new religion: the Church of Canta.

  “We thank you all for gathering to hear us speak this morning,” Jane said, her voice loud and clear. Knot was once again surprised at how much volume Jane could muster; even the Odenites on the fringes seemed able to hear her. Their numbers had almost reached six hundred according to Arven’s ongoing census.

  Now that the people of Tinska were refusing service to the Odenites, they were facing an imminent food crisis. Jane was aware of the issue, but insisted the foundation of the Church took precedence. Why that took priority over feeding her followers, Knot couldn’t say.

  “We thank you for the sacrifices you’ve made to be here with us,” Jane continued. “We know many of you have left homes, families, friends, and fortunes. Some of you arrived here with all you had, which was not much to begin with. Others left almost everything behind. To each and every one of you, we extend our thanks, and Canta’s blessing. You will begin to see Her hand in your lives as you continue to follow this path, I promise you.

  “We have gathered you here today in the name of transparency. Many of you call me a prophetess. I reluctantly accepted that title, not only from you but from our Goddess Herself. At Her behest, I have called three disciples so far, and six more will follow. My sister, Cinzia, was the first. The others, Elessa and Ocrestia, were chosen from among you.

  “We are in the process of reviving a religion—the same institution that Canta intended when She graced this world. We will go about things the way She intended them to be.”

  A few dozen shouts rose from the crowd, mostly along the lines of “Praise Canta” or “Goddess be thanked.”

  “That is not to say that there is not truth out there already,” Jane continued. “I speak, of course, of the Cantic Denomination. I want to be clear. That organization is not evil, contrary to what I have heard many of you say about it. We have no quarrel with the Denomination; this must be understood. Especially in light of what else I’m about to tell you.”

  Knot was surprised. He had always assumed that Jane and her Odenites would be at odds with the Denomination. Apparently Jane advocated a different path.

  “In order to fully realize our Church, as Canta meant it to be, we must leave this place,” Jane continued.

  Knot had heard nothing about leaving the Harmoth estate. He glanced at Cinzia, whose wide eyes and reddening face betrayed her surprise, too.

  “We must return to the place where it all began, where Canta was at her most powerful, and at her most vulnerable, too. We are going to travel to Triah.”

  The Odenites’ murmuring elevated into loud whispers, a few shouts rising above the noise.

  Cinzia’s face was now completely pale. Knot knew that she had spent seven years of her life in Triah studying at the Cantic Denomination’s seminary and serving as priestess to a congregation there. She had left all of that behind to help her sister. Knot could understand why this news would be less than welcome for her.

  Jane raised a hand high above her head, and the crowd hushed almost immediately. “I know this comes as a shock to many of you, and I will remind you all of one thing, something we have tried to make clear since you arrived here. You’re all free to choose. If you disagree with anything we do, if you want no part in it, that’s your right. We will respect that decision, and if you don’t wish to accompany us on our exodus to Triah, so be it. We will part ways with joy and friendship. But we hope that you will come with us. We will need the support of each and every one of you on this journey, as we establish ourselves in the heart of Khale, in the heart of the Sfaera. The entire world will hear about what we do there, and we will all witness miracles. That much I know to be true.”

  That mollified the audience somewhat. Knot could still hear many people whispering, but the shock and indignation at Jane’s announcement had dissipated.

  “One thing I do know,” Jane said, with a bold light in her eyes, “is that we will face danger. The path to Triah will not be an easy one. But we will get there, and we will be stronger for it. I have seen it.”

  A movement caught Knot’s attention, a shifting in the distance, at the top of the hill. He squinted. The sun shone brightly at his
shoulder, and the road to Tinska was a fair distance away. As he narrowed his eyes, he saw what looked like a few figures on horseback cresting the hill. New Odenites, most likely, arriving just in time to hear Jane finish her speech.

  Knot turned back to Jane, who was talking now about Cinzia, Elessa, and Ocrestia as her disciples, something about how they were extensions of Canta’s power. But further movement drew his attention back to the hill.

  More figures on horseback. Knot couldn’t count them accurately from this far away, but he estimated there were at least fifty. Knot’s chest tightened.

  “I want to thank each and every one of you,” Jane said loudly, a smile on her face, “for participating in the meetings we held in the house. It was a pleasure to meet each of you, to hear many of your stories. We are so grateful you’re here.”

  Jane did not seem to have noticed the growing threat atop the hill. Knot glanced at Cinzia, who was still staring at her sister, white-faced. But the moment his eyes met Astrid’s, he knew she had noticed the men. Her sight was sharper than any human’s; she would be able to discern far better than he how many men there were, perhaps even who they were.

  “We leave for Triah in two weeks,” Jane said. “We have that time to prepare, to pray, and to continue serving one another. We will need to band together and forget our differences for this journey to be successful. You’re all tools in Canta’s hands. She will use you, hone you, polish you until you are prepared for Her express purposes. The process can be difficult, even painful, but I give you every promise that it is worth it. Thank you again. Now, let us prepare, and pray.”

  Jane stepped back, and Elessa stood to say a prayer. Knot slipped along the dais until he came to Astrid.

  “Can you tell who they are?” Knot whispered.

  “Not of a certainty,” she said. “But they’re armed.”

  Knot swore. “They’re keeping the high ground. Are they in uniform?”

  “No,” Astrid whispered. “No uniforms. Their weapons are not exactly professional, either. Swords and spears, but I see a lot of pitchforks and clubs. Looks more like a militia.”

  “Or a mob,” Knot said. Kamites. He was sure of it.

  “How many of them?”

  “A little over fifty so far,” Astrid said, “but still more coming up the hill.”

  Elessa finished her prayer, with an audible “Imass” from the Odenites.

  “Come with me,” Knot said, motioning for Astrid to follow him to where Cinzia and Jane stood. Their plan had been to walk among the crowd after the speech, but Knot could tell that Cinzia was itching to speak with Jane. Understandably, if the idea of traveling to Triah came as much as a surprise to her as it had to Knot. But, at the moment, they had more pressing matters.

  “A force is gathering at the top of the hill,” Knot said quietly as he approached the two women. “Armed and on horseback. Ain’t professional soldiers, but they look to be from Tinska.”

  Both Jane and Cinzia turned to him, eyes wide.

  “Kamites?” Cinzia asked.

  “Not sure. Both of you should get back to the house. I’ll go see what they want. Might be able to turn them away.” Not likely, but worth a try.

  Then he heard Astrid swear, and shouts behind him. He turned to see his fears confirmed. The horsemen were charging down the hill, directly towards the Odenites.

  * * *

  Jane’s announcement about Triah echoed in the back of Cinzia’s mind, but as she saw the horsemen advance, she knew there were more pressing matters.

  Her heart skipped a beat as Knot sprinted forward, shouting orders at the guards, Eward running to his side. She had been proud of her brother for taking charge of the guard force, but seeing him rush into danger made her wonder what in the Sfaera had ever made her think it was a good idea. There had to be over a hundred men on horseback coming down the hill; their guard force couldn’t field half that many.

  Knot and Eward were taking action. Cinzia needed to do the same.

  “Everyone who is not a guard, retreat!” Cinzia shouted, surprised at the volume she could muster. “Into the house!” It wouldn’t take all the Odenites, but getting them to retreat as far away from the advancing horsemen as possible was better than nothing.

  Immediately, the people obeyed, but they were moving too slowly. Cinzia needed to get them out of the way so the guard force could form up before the horsemen broke into them. She looked at Jane, Elessa, and Ocrestia. All three women were staring at the charging force.

  “Help me,” Cinzia hissed. That jarred them into reality, and immediately they took up Cinzia’s cries, herding the crowd towards the house, as far away from the enemy as possible. She was about to rush forward to start ushering people back, when a small form stopped her. Astrid.

  “I need to get the four of you inside.”

  Jane, having finally gotten a hold of herself, shook her head. “Not until we get everyone else back. We need to give Knot and the guards room.”

  Astrid growled. “I’m staying with you, then. And as soon as the crowd is clear, we’re getting all of you back inside.”

  “Fine,” Jane said. “But no sooner.”

  “Back to the house!” Cinzia shouted again, hoping they could give Knot enough time.

  * * *

  “Spears!” Knot shouted. “Every guard with a spear, form the front line!”

  The men and women did as asked. They were scared—Knot knew they had to be—but they obeyed orders. That was perhaps all that kept them from panic. They formed a line as they’d been trained, twenty spears across. His handful of archers formed up behind them.

  “Spears on the ground!” Knot shouted. The front line obeyed while Knot turned to his archers.

  “Fire at will,” he ordered. “Break the charge!”

  Arrows hissed overhead. He heard horses scream, saw the charging line falter as some horsemen went down, only to be trampled by those charging behind them.

  Twenty spears against a hundred horsemen; behind the spears, roughly the same number of swordsmen. Eight archers, already firing into the horsemen. It would have to do.

  Before Knot could turn back to the hill, he heard the rumbling.

  “Brace yourselves!” Knot shouted. The guards stared at the charging enemy. In that moment Knot could see the terror on their faces.

  “Hold!” Knot shouted, drawing his sword, already seeing some of his men itching to take up their spears. The horsemen were nearly on them, pitchforks and clubs and spears raised, expressions of utter detestation twisting their faces.

  “Hold!” Knot shouted again, raising his sword high above his head.

  Then, as the horsemen reached the flat at the bottom of the hill, Knot lowered his sword swiftly. “Now!”

  His guards took up their spears, and the enemy had nowhere to turn but directly into the sudden barrier of barbs that confronted them. Horses screamed, people screamed, Knot heard a loud choking sound that could have been animal, man, or even himself echo in his ears.

  One of the horses charged directly at him, and Knot dodged the stab of a pitchfork, grabbing the wrist of the man on its back. With a sharp twist and a crunch, Knot brought the man to the ground, breaking his wrist and shoulder in the process. The man’s horse scrabbled away.

  “Regroup!” Knot shouted, fighting his way between two men on horseback. He nearly cut the leg clean off of one with a slash of his sword. The man fell to the ground screaming while the other rider’s horse stumbled over him. Knot stabbed upward, and his sword slipped between the other rider’s ribs.

  All of his guards had engaged the enemy. Knot couldn’t believe how many people—some of them his own guards—lay screaming, twisting, dying. It seemed seconds since the horsemen had charged, and there were already dozens of wounded. Knot shouted for his guards to form up around him once more. If they could stay together, they stood a chance.

  Then, to Knot’s horror, he saw a large contingent of horsemen run straight past his small force, bearing down on th
e retreating Odenites. Knot couldn’t imagine what those would do to Jane’s followers. But his priority was to get his men and women through this alive before helping the others.

  Knot ran quickly to a group of his guards. One of them lay on the grass, not moving, blood pooling beneath him. Another fell as a club cracked sharply against her skull. Knot slipped his sword up between the shoulder blades of the man wielding the club. More men on horseback wheeled to face Knot, and as they did so the guards attacked, bringing the men down.

  “What now, sir?” asked one of the guards.

  “Form up,” Knot said. There were pockets of people fighting all around them. Less than half of the enemy had remained to fight Knot’s forces. The others galloped after the retreating Odenites. Already Knot could hear screams from the direction of the house.

  He swore. “We need to defend the others. Come with me.” He stalked forward, his eye on a group of men that had descended from their horses and were now surrounding four of his guards. “Come on,” Knot repeated, and as he did, he suddenly remembered…

  * * *

  “Come on,” Lathe said, leading his men to…

  To where?

  He was in a battle. Men and women were fighting, though hardly any seemed trained soldiers. He was holding a sword covered in blood.

  A man, shouting at the top of his lungs, charged him with a sword. Lathe stepped out of the way, flicking his sword across the man’s hamstring as he charged by. The man fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Lathe slipped his sword in and out of his neck and stepped over the body.

  “Sir?”

  Lathe turned, sword raised. Four people looked to him, eyes wide as they stared at his sword point.

  “Who are you?” Lathe demanded.

  He’d already deduced that he was in roughly the same location as the last time. The large house was behind them in the distance, the ocean to the west. No sign of the vampire, though, or the two strange women who’d shown up later. Other memories, blurry and undefined, pushed up through his consciousness. He remembered fighting men in the dark, amidst flames and smoke, near the burnt remains of a large ash tree in the middle of the estate grounds. He remembered that, but… but it was not himself he remembered fighting.