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Faith is symbolic to man, as is the betrayal of it. NaNo 2012 winner. {e:star} Still WiP |
| The Ninth Son Heresy: The Book of Mammon Chapter 4 There was a time when things were different. Valimaar stared down at the scorched earth below and watched the rippling waves of heat rise into the sunlit horizon. The desert was very much an unwelcoming place, but he found more comfort here than in the forsaken lands of Ecclesia. It had been three months since they had made their exile to Lokken, and though he found some solace within the embrace of the sands, he knew that such peace would not be lasting. The Expurgators were hunted men – hated men. The Ecclesiarchy had spent every effort to see to their capture, but they were not simple heretics. They were Expurgators. They were the hunters, not the hunted. He knew that the Ecclesiarchy would not have an easy time capturing them, but they had more resources at their disposal than one could imagine. The Divinity had eyes and ears everywhere, that much was certain. He had spent his known life within its bloodstained ranks, and served not only as the observer, but as the hammer and shield. Valimaar knew of the inner workings of hunting better than anyone as did the rest of his brethren. Wicked men would have roamed free without their service, that was a time before now. He no longer was a member of the Ecclesiarchy. He was no longer an Expurgator. He was little more than a servant within another hierarchy, though this one stood against that which threatened their lives. The ranks had changed, as well as the faces, but the purpose was still there. The Divinity was evil. That much was certain, and these men and women that took them in held no contempt for those that shared their enemies. It had all gone so backward. Though, he could not think of a time when things were right. He had never served the right purpose, none of them did. He could only hope that they could be redeemed for their sins. Though, it was a concept that was hard to grasp, it was all he had. There was no god that would stand judgment over them, but conscience was a powerful entity that often times played a strong part in its own version of retribution. He had found vengeance. The silence of the desert was punishment enough for him. Everything he once knew was no more. There was no god, no devil, no heaven, and no hell, there was only humanity and the evils which preyed upon them. The burning sun scorched his flesh beyond agony. The heat was intense. The fires of the earth held nothing in comparison to the heat of Lokken, but they were at least safe. The Exarch sat beside him and wiped the sweat from his brow as he stared out into the vast expanse of the hungering sands. Little life existed below the walls of the great city that they now called home. Even within the shelter of the stones, there was little life to be found. There were people that filled the streets of Veruna, but they paid him little attention or care. He felt as though he were treated with a mild neglect. It felt as though they viewed him as an unwelcome guest in their homeland, but he could not blame them for their disdain. The Expurgators were after all, once part of the Ecclesiarchy, their enemy… everyone’s enemy. The only welcome he received came from his fellow heretics, and Lady Elaine. Though they spoke little to one another since their arrival, he could feel their thoughts behind their eyes. He knew they all felt the same as he. “You should drink some water Valimaar, this heat can really take a toll on you.” The Exarch’s voice disappeared with little more than an echo left behind. “Are you alright?” Valimaar nodded. “I’ll be fine.” “There’s nothing we could have done Valimaar. There’s nothing you could have done for those people.” “We should not have abandoned them.” “They are not themselves anymore. The Ecclesiarchy has claimed their minds and their actions. The only thing we can do is defend what is left of this world.” Defend what? There was little left. Though there were men and women all about the lands of Arlia, they all had their own agendas and their own wickedness. What he had once defended, was little more than a lie. Humanity was a remarkably surprising race, but they were little more than a blight on the world. “There’s nothing left to defend.” “How dare you say that.” The Exarch stood from his seat and clenched his fists. “It was your zeal that got us this far Valimaar. Without you, we would not have survived.” “Perhaps, but what has that got us? A new home? We’re safe here for some time, but the Ecclesiarchy knows that the book is here, it knows that we’re here. If anything, we’re doing nothing more than placing these people in harm’s way.” The Exarch shook his head. “They’ve sworn to defend this world to the last man. They are well aware of the dangers of such a doctrine.” “Then we are merely speeding up their demise. You know we cannot stay here forever. We will have to do something soon.” “Yes… I know. But until then, be thankful that you are here and alive, and not serving the wrong cause.” It was pointless to argue with him. Yes, he was not serving the cause of the Divinity, but who was to say that Lokken’s was any better? He knew better than anyone that hierarchies had their dark secrets, and Lokken would be no different. He contented himself with finding silence once more. He looked down upon the scorching earth below the high walls and found himself in a trance. It was amazing that these people could survive here in this place. They were quite resilient, and did not indulge themselves in the luxuries that Ecclesia had come to know. They did not require perfumes, dyes, incense, or fresh prepared food in order to be happy. It was incredible how much these people were willing to sacrifice in order to maintain their lives. He couldn’t imagine anyone finding happiness in a place like this, but he was not one of them, and he certainly was no worldly. Lady Elaine was quite taken by their way of life, and almost as soon as they arrived, she began living a more simple life among them. She was a remarkable individual; one that could find the good in all things. Though she was not familiar with a life outside the Ecclesiarchy, she was more than willing to discover it for herself. The people of Lokken accepted her as one of their own. Much unlike the Expurgators, who could feel the oppressive disdain of their stares wherever they went. It felt like the only ones who appreciated them were the members of the military, for they were recruited immediately into their ranks. They were much different than Aegis, or the Apostolics. Their military was a rough group of men and women, who demanded a respect like no other. Each of them were as skilled as the next man in combat, and he found that he could do little more than admire their discipline. It was like being among an entire populace of Expurgators, with the lack of senseless killing. He and his brethren formed an elite group of the military. Their skills with the blade and pistol, and their knowledge of the many Daemons of the world had gifted them with the rank of Mamluk. They were no longer examiners and murderers, but assassins and spies, though their skills had yet to be tested. He know though, that it was only a matter of time before Ecclesia’s armies came to Lokken, and they would find themselves in the heat of battle. It was unknown when it would happen, but it would happen nonetheless. The desert however, would offer them a fair bit of defense, for it would be a brutal advance for any army to breech the borders of Lokken. He stared out at the distant horizon, and watched the circling flight patterns of buzzards in the sky. He had never seen so many before, but the desert was a hungering land that often claimed lives frequently, it would be no surprise to find several animals dead of starvation or thirst. The wind began to pick up speed, and his hair whipped at his face as he stared in the distance. He could hear the men and women below the walls calling to one another in panic. He knew that desert wind was a troubling occurrence, for it brought with it the intense onslaught of the sand’s rage. He could see the great dust cloud in the distance. Plumes rose from the scorched lands like smoke billowing from a fire. Distant thunder rumbled through the skies. It was odd to hear such a thing in a land such as this. He had seen storms in the desert, but they were rare, and there were no clouds to be seen in the sky. It continued to roll across the heavens in a rumbling roar, and the dust cloud grew ever larger. It would not be long before it was upon them. He removed a large black cloth from one of his many pouches and tied it around his face. Though it did little to defend his skin from the blasting sands, it did help with breathing. He had learned that fast in this sovereignty, for sandstorms were a common occurrence, and they were not to be taken lightly. The banners on the flag posts whipped in the wind like something alive. They crackled in the intense gale blowing at his back toward the distant horizon. “That sandstorm is moving against the wind,” the Exarch said, standing from his seat. Valimaar looked hard through the wind and saw the cloud moving ever closer to them. He was right. It was not a sandstorm at all. It was the wake of something enormous, like an advancing army. The Exarch darted to the edge of the high tower and squinted his eyes at the distant horizon. Valimaar scanned the expanse of the advancing cloud that seemed to stretch from one end of the horizon to the other. Whatever it was, was massive. Surely it could not be an army, for no force in the world was that large, even Aegis. Horns bellowed across the great wall in the distance, and boomed in his ears. Below, he could see men and women rushing between alleys and streets. Soldiers began filling the streets with weapons in hand, and men began barking orders. The Exarch knelt down, slid a stone slab from its place and with great effort, pulled the large mechanism from its compartment beneath the floor. He gave him a commanding glare, and Valimaar turned to face one of the many steel containers that lined the wall. He snatched one and handed it to the Exarch, who was busying himself with preparing the great gun. He opened the container and pulled the long leather belt that held the many shots for the repeater gun. He slid it into its place and clamped the chamber down. It clicked with ringing of steel against steel that rang in Valimaar’s ears. Along the wall, other guards were doing the same thing. Each of them held rifles of their own. He grabbed the long gun and began loading his first shot. It was a heavy firearm, one that he was not used to. As an Expurgator, he favored mobility over firepower, and pistols were among his fancy. Long rifles were for those that desired to be far from the enemy, something he was unfamiliar with. It felt like lead in his hands as he propped it up to rest upon the wall. Pulling back the hammer, he stared down the long muzzle at the distant cloud. He could not see any men behind the veil of dust, but he knew they were there. He turned his gaze to the Exarch who also took aim at the distance, his hand rested upon the crank of the great gun. “I hope this thing works,” he said. Valimaar nodded. Thunder grew ever louder as the cloud increased in size. Across the horizon, he could hear the rumbling of the ground beneath them. It sounded like thousands of horses clad in steel and iron – a force that he had never seen before. The clanging and clattering of steel echoed from the distance, and the shrieks of scraping metal whistled through the hot air. Loud, serpent like hisses billowed from unknown creatures and shot through the shroud toward his ears like daggers. Whatever was there, was a monstrosity like no other. Silhouettes of men began to appear in the dust. Thousands upon thousands of men stretched across the empty sands in front of them. They were still well out of range, but it would not be long before he could take his first shot. The smell of burning wood filled his nostrils. What was on fire? He did not know. He dare not remove his attentions from the advancing army. Larger, louder shadows appeared in the distance. He could not make out what they were. They were enormous things, the size of twenty men grouped in a cluster, and twice as high. Smoke poured from the tops of them like they were wreathed in great flame. They rumbled and roared as they rolled across the sand with little effort. Stabbing from their flanks, he could see several gun barrels pointing in every which direction. A long cannon rested upon the top of the great beasts and aimed high at the walls. Great iron wheels turned, carrying the great mechanical beasts along the sands like it hovered. Steam hissed out of several tubes and pipes that thrust out in every direction. Pistons clanged and roared as the great thing lumbered toward the walls. The Ecclesian banner stood upon a silver mast in the center of the great things, and whipped in the wind with violent waves. Aegis had finally come. Still, he had never seen anything like this in all his time in the forsaken lands. It seemed that they had advanced much since his exile. He closed an eye and stared through the bronze tube that rest atop the barrel of his rifle. The glass lens was an incredible creation that magnified his vision ten-fold. In the distance, the glass summoned his targets to his vision like they were being pulled across the great expanse. Through the scope, he viewed the army that marched toward them. He had never seen so many men. Aegis was certainly not that large. Where could these men have come from? The army slowed its advance, and finally came to a rumbling stop in front of the city, they were just out of range of the rifles. He could hear the ringing of steel armor, as men and women of Lokken darted up stairs, and along the walls of the great city. They lined the battlements and aimed their own firepower down upon their enemies. Their bravery was something to be admired. The hiss of gun powder surged through the silence, and a great flash filled the dust that lingered in the air below. Thunder cracked and the concussive shock of the cannons slammed his ears like an iron clad fist. To the right of him pieces of the great wall fell in an explosion. Shouts and cries echoed through the air as men and women fell from the towering wall to their deaths. Smoke and fire filled the expanse of the wall as rifles and cannons returned fire at the enemy. It was a violent thunder that crashed down upon him as he pulled the trigger. Sparks flew from the pan and his own rifle cracked with the flash of black powder. He could see his target collapse through the scope. His aim was true. The Exarch spun the crank of the repeater gun, and a hail of flame escaped the muzzle of the spinning barrels. Below, clouds of sand burst as each shot crashed into the ground or into a man. He could hear several other repeater guns unleashing their own fury along the expanse of the walls. He reloaded his rifle and stared through the scope once more. He could see sparks flying from the iron clad behemoths that stood in front of the army, but the shots did little more than dent the armor of the great creations. Cannon fire erupted through the army below, and fragments of stone and flesh shot through the air as the massive lead balls crashed into the great wall. Horns echoed behind him, and Valimaar turned to see the shadows of dirigibles ascending in the sky. They were massive ships carried upon the air by an enormous bladder of some unknown gas. Steam poured from their great engines, as they hovered over the city below. Fragments of sharp stone stung his cheeks as a section of wall burst into a violent onslaught beside him. The crack of the cannon ball sent bits of metal and sand surging through the air, as men fell from their posts. The Exarch shot him a look of surprise, and Valimaar returned to the battlement, his second load ready to be unleashed. He stared through the scope of his rifle, at one of the many behemoths in front of him. He searched for anything that would indicate in chink in their defenses. A small hole in the front displayed the top of a man’s head. It was a near impossible shot, but it was a shot nonetheless. Even if he were to make such an attempt, how could he do it again? He continued scanning, and his vision came to rest upon the top turret of the great engine. Two men stood at the massive cannon, reloading its powder and shot. Surely they had a supply of black powder. His vision focused on small balls that were wrapped in a sort of parchment. He watched one of the men place a ball into the barrel, followed by a leather wadding. Valimaar slowed his breathing, and squeezed the trigger. Through the scope, he could see the flare of fire ignite from the pile at the men’s feet. They jumped from the sides, and the flames burst into a massive explosion. Scraps of Iron and Steel shot from the flames in every direction, and behind, he could see men falling to their deaths as they slashed through their flesh. The ground began to shake as a massive shadow drove on through the smoke and flames. It was similar to the steel behemoths that lined the walls of the city, but larger – louder. A long ram stabbed through the front of it, and several men lined up behind the great thing as it slowly made its way toward the gate. The Exarch unleashed a hail of bullets at the thing, but it did not slow its progress. Along the walls, the soldiers of Lokken lit small wicks that hung out of clay pots, and hurled them over the walls at the advancing force. Fire erupted below, and the scent of burning flesh filled his nose as cries of agony pierced through the thunderous booms of cannon fire. Still, the thing lumbered on. It came to rest at the front of the gate, and a loud crash escaped through the echoes of death as the ram stabbed into the gate. The wall shook as though they were in an earthquake. Behind the gate, men and women stood with rifles at the ready. With each impact, they retreated ever further away from the gate. It would not belong before it collapsed. Ecclesian soldiers began to rush the walls, as the final blow forced the wooden gate to buckle, and soldiers poured forth into the breach. Valimaar shot the Exarch a glare, and he left his station at the repeater gun and drew his rapier and pistol. They sprinted down the stone stairs, and Valimaar pulled his own pistol and sword as they surged into the cluster of soldiers. Clanging of steel on steel rang through the air as he slashed at enemies with wild abandon. Cracks of rifles and pistols burst through the roaring onslaught and made his ears ring. A mist of blood escaped as his sword sliced through the neck of a man that stood before him, and its metallic taste filled his mouth as it touched his lips. Shadows of the great dirigibles fell upon him as they advanced through the skies into the great sea of soldiers beyond the walls. The smell of sweat and blood hung in the air, as they continued to defend against the attack. He took aim with his pistol squeezed the trigger. Before him, a man dropped to his knees and blood escaped between his fingers as he clasped his chest. Valimaar flipped his sword in his hands, and drove it through the man’s back as he hunched to the ground. He drove the butt stock of his pistol into the face of another as he advanced on him. He pulled his sword from the lifeless body, and slashed it at his attacker’s face. Sprays of crimson shot through the dust, and speckled his cheeks as he stabbed into the man’s gut. A dozen more defenders came surging into the chaos with wild abandon, and battle cries echoed through the violence. It was a valiant defense, but he knew that they could not keep this up forever. Soon, they would grow tired, and then the army would have them. The ground shook and staggered him as the sounds of massive explosions burst through the onslaught. He stared through the opening in the wall, and he could see plumes of flame towering above the army. The dirigibles began dropping their bombs. Another horn stabbed through the noise, and the soldiers of Lokken retreated. Valimaar and the Exarch shared a look, and did as the others. As they turned to run, the ground beneath them opened, revealing a massive mechanism that rose up through the ranks of the attackers. They backed away from the great clockwork and looked on. It was nothing he had ever seen before. It had circles within circles, that were mounted on a single mast that stood upright like a flag post. They span slowly in clockwise and counter clockwise motion, and it began to hum as it gained speed. The hiss of air escaped through nozzles that adorned the outermost circle and seconds later, flames erupted around it like a ring of hellfire. The cries of agony escaped the dying men as they fell in an inferno of hell’s rage. It was like nothing he had ever seen. This clockwork was a dire device. Waves of liquid flame poured forth in a wreath all about the thing, and he could feel the heat singing his hairs. He withdrew further to hear the rumbling of soldiers retreating. Along the walls, men and women shouted cheers of victory as the bombs continued to fall upon their attackers. The thing slowed its spin, and the flames died. Before him, the charred remains of soldiers lay in a foul, stinking pile of burnt flesh. Battle was a terrible thing, but they were victorious. They employed dark methods, but without them, they surely would have fell. He knew though, that it would not be long. Ecclesia would return, perhaps with a greater force. Their victory would not go celebrated for long. |
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