Heresy: The Book of Mammon

Chapter 6

Chapter 6



Her soft whisper tore through his soul when it was spoken. Valimaar felt his warmth return to him as he moved about the room in silence. It was an amazing feeling to be loved. One that he was unfamiliar with. She was right. Someone needed him, and that someone, was her. Regardless of what he may do, he had no choice but to continue on, if not for anything else, it would be for her. He had no choice.

“Stay the course.” He whispered to himself as he moved from one wounded man to another.

The clerics had done everything they could for those that made it here, but he knew that they could not keep up with their duties. It was the least he could do for them, for Lokken had taken them in and offered them shelter, solace, life. It was a debt he would never be able to pay, but he would be more than willing to work for his acceptance.

The wytches did not appreciate his presence, he knew that, but they tolerated him, just as they tolerated his brethren. They knew that they had their uses, Expurgators after all, were talented warriors. The disdain however, remained. There was nothing he could do for such things. He was no mediator or purveyor of platitudes to change people’s minds. All he could do was offer his assistance wherever it was needed, and it was needed now.

Lady Elaine and he moved around, offering water, bandages, or simple comfort to those that required it. They were stalwart people, but when facing death, a person’s abilities to remain resolute often fracture. People feared it, and often times did what they could to avoid it, but it was unavoidable. No one could escape death, it was a blight that encased all humanity. The only thing one could do, was face it with honor. These people did just that.

The groans had softened to occasional murmurs. They were severely wounded, but most of them would live to see another sunrise. It was an honor to be among such courageous people. They were not like those of the north. They were brave, honorable, courageous, and often times, selfless.

The crusade had only just begun, but he knew that it would be long before it ended. These people were willing to accept that. He could see their facial expressions. They were as if carved from granite. They were unflinching in their convictions and they didn’t lack the courage to uphold them.

It was a comfort knowing that they would fight to the last man. Who was he to wish death upon himself when there was still at least some small part of humanity that desire life. Even if he could do nothing to stop the evil that claimed the world, he would fight until his dying breath, and not a moment earlier.

The Daemon, Ithaca dwelled within him, and though it was evil, he was not. He would battle it until he could no more. Father Gordon saw something in him that others did not and it was that something that led him to this moment. He chose him to house the Daemon. Though it was powerful, he would conquer it as he was told he would. He did not know how he would do it, but he would find the way.

Many questions needed answering and there was little reference as to where to look for them, but he would start looking. He would return to Ecclesia. Many questions remained unanswered in those forsaken lands, and there was little time to prepare for it all, but he would go nonetheless.

A commotion outside startled him from his thoughts, and he looked up in unison with Lady Elaine. The sounds of shouts and cries rang through the old stone halls of the chapel, and he rushed toward the door.

The sunlight stabbed through the dusty air as he faced his brother, Rialev who held a man in captivity. He was bound at his hands and feet, and Rialev grasped him by the hair as he pulled his head back. A long thin dagger rest idly at his neck waiting for the command to strike.

"We caught him attempting to kill the Exarch!"

Valimaar looked down at the man at his feet. He was a familiar sight. The apostolic stared in defiance at the two of them, unwilling to submit to their will.

"Is he alright?"

"He's been wounded severely. Have a cleric come see to him."

Valimaar nodded and turned to Lady Elaine. She gave him a nod, and rushed to the back of the great hall. In an instant, an old woman rushed through the door with bags and pouches in hand.

***************

They stood over the man who looked down at the floor. He was tied to the chair in every possible fashion that they could devise. He would not escape. It had been months since they had seen an Apostolic, or any member of the Presbyterate for that matter, and it was not a welcome sight.

He seemed different than the others that Valimaar had come to recognize. His eyes held a quality that was unfamiliar to him, it seemed as though a power dwelled within him, just as one dwelled within he and his brethren. He seemed possessed. Surely he was a skilled attacker to have bested the Exarch. That was a troubling thought, for to best an Expurgator was an unknown feat.

"What is your purpose here?" Rialev asked the man with heat in his voice as he drew the long blade from its scabbard.

The man stared at him in silence.

"Very well," Rialev added, and touched the tip of the knife to the man's face just under his eye. "I shall ask you again, what is your purpose here. Speak quickly or be blinded by your ignorance."

A cackle escaped the man's lips as he looked up at them. "I bring order to Chaos."

They shared a look and Rialev slid the tip of the knife down the man's cheek. A trickle of blood rolled down his face like a crimson tear. He did not flinch from the blade.

"You know who we are I imagine."

The man nodded.

"You know then that we will get answers from you one way or another."

A smile stabbed across his face. It was a sinister grin. He was clearly deranged.

He stabbed the knife deep into the man's cheek and a breath escaped his lips. He felt pain.

"Tell me your purpose, or die in obscurity."

"I do not fear death Expurgator. I served my purpose."

Served his purpose? What purpose could he have possibly served? The Exarch was wounded, but he was not dead. He was here for a different reason.

Rialev's jaw locked as he struck the man with his fist. "You have elected the way of pain. Brace yourself, for this will not at all be a pleasant death."

Valimaar placed a firm hand on his brethren's arm. Rialev's fiery eyes met his and he nodded.

"Do you know who I am?"

The man looked at Valimaar and sneered. "The heretic. Valimaar."

"You are incorrect. I am more than you could ever imagine."

The man shook his head. "You lie. I know your face."

Valimaar let loose his hold on the evils inside him. It was something he had struggled to contain for months. It was the first time he had allowed it to escape his grasp, for he feared what it would be capable of.

The soft crackle of the flames burning in the torches died out, but the flames continued to burn. The shadow grew in the dark corners of the stone walls, and darkened the glow. An evil haze swallowed them as they stood in front of the Apostolic.

"I am Ithaca." The voice escaped his lips and was like a thousand screaming souls calling across the dark void of death. It was an icy whisper that echoed through the room and fell upon the man as he stared up at him. "You've come to this place in ignorance mortal. You've come to kill me, first born of Azaal's sons? You shall feel pain like no other."

Valimaar felt the malice grow within him. It turned his stomach and twisted his bones. He felt the weight of the air around him slowly crush his body as he stood still. He lost control of himself as he stood looking down at the man.

The priests eyes went wide as they darted about the dark room. The cracking of bones peirced through the silence and the man screamed in agony.

"You shall live your last moments in pain like none you have ever felt."

He shook violently in the chair as his limbs twisted in unnatural directions.

"Please stop," he screamed through agonizing gasps for air.

The weight lightened, and the light returned to the room. The slight crackle of flames again whispered through the silence as he felt his own spirit return to him.

"Tell us your purpose."

The man trembled as mucuous poured from his nose and mouth. "I am here to destroy the engine."

Valimaar turned to face Rialev who stared at him in bewilderment. Lady Elaine was right. The engines had to be protected.

"What engine?"

"The Lokken Clockwork. I don't know where it is, but I knew you would lead me to it. Please, that is all I know."

"What is the Lokken Clockwork," Rialev asked.

"I don't know."

"Tell me! Do you wish to meet Ithaca once more?"

The man looked up at him in fear and shook his head. "It is heaven."

Heaven? It was the first time he had heard the word since he lost his faith. Heaven did not exist, that much he knew. Even if it did, how would one destroy it? It made no sense.

"Don't lie to us, worm! What is the Lokken Clockwork?"

"It is Heaven, I swear I am telling the truth. The Arbiter commanded its destruction! He said that the engine is failing and caused the plague, and the return of the Daemons that the walk the earth."