Heresy: The Book of Mammon

Chapter 14

Chapter 14



Valimaar drew in the dark, moist air of the tomb. It pushed through his lungs like he breathed water. The air below the earth was dense; almost alive. The torch offered little visibility as they walked the dusty Underhalls. The light danced just in front of them, and upon the cold, stone walls of the corridor, ancient carvings stood against the onslaught of time’s neglect.

It was a magnificent mural that stretched from the entrance far beyond what he could see. He was not one to celebrate the beauties of the ancient world, but this was astonishing. He found it remarkable that the men of old could carve such masterpieces out of the rough stone of the earth with little more than rocks for tools. Upon the rim of the darkness, men and women were drawn in intricate detail. The story of Lokken unfolded before him as they continued through the silent black. He beheld the construction of the cities, the birth of the first sultan, even the winds of the ancient sands.

He felt as though he were stepping through the fabric of time; that the world above grew younger as he walked. The carvings were emblazoned with red gem stones, and flakes of gold. They burned with brilliance as the light of the torch passed, and sent shimmering sparkles of light dancing upon opposite walls.

He looked on in awe as more events took course of the visual compendium. A woman cried over the death of her child, and another mourned the loss of her husband. He assumed it was speaking of an ancient war, and his thoughts shifted to Lady Elaine.

She walked beside him in silence. Rivers trickled down her cheeks as she mourned her loss to come. His heart thumped in his chest as he looked upon her sadness. He was leaving her behind. The pain throbbed in every limb and in the back of his mind. He despised what he was doing, but it had to be done. If not him, then who?

He could see her in his thoughts. She cried. She mourned his death. He was certain he had no chance of survival in Ecclesia, but he would have it no other way. If this was to be his end, he would do so willingly. Not for Lokken, not for the people of Arlia, but for her. If his death meant her life, he could ask nothing else of fate.

It was better this way. He after all, was a Daemon. The dark taint of its evil coursed through his veins his every waking moment. Though Father Gordon and her saw a strength that he did not, he had no faith in his abilities to overcome the beasts will. It was only a matter of time, before Ithaca took him… forever. His very life put her in danger, for if the Daemon claimed his body and spirit, would she reject him then? He knew she loved him, and love often blinded reason. Ithaca would kill her as was his nature to do so. He could not allow it – he must not allow it. It was better this way.

He turned his eyes away from her. He could bear her tears no longer. Every step felt as though his feet were made of lead. Every pace grew ever more hard to take. His attentions returned to the pictures on the walls.

The first dawn rose in the horizon, and men rejoiced their existence. He watched as they fell to the fires of hell. He watched as they died in vain as they cast down their masters. He knew that the walls spoke the truth. It was the story not only of Lokken, but of humanity.

“I think you’re making a terrible decision.” Rialev’s voice startled him.

“As do I.” Her voice escaped her lips and came to rest on his soul. Her sobs stabbed at him like needles.

He shook his head and continued on behind Father Papal. “I cannot trade my life for one of yours. If I don’t do this, who will?”

“There has to be another way.” Rialev ran his fingers along the wall as they walked. His eyes never turned from what lay ahead.

“Please, tell me what other way there is.”

Silence followed. There was no other way. He knew it. Rialev was simply reaching for argument, as he always did. He was never friendly with him, but he tolerated him, and respected his wisdom though, it was often accompanied by daggers of harsh truth. He was a rough individual; as equally unpleasant in conversation as he, but he was a strong man. He respected him as a brother, and as a fighter. He knew that regardless of what happened, Rialev would fight until his dying breath… they all would.

He looked ahead, and the torch light spilled into a fork of corridors. Halls spanned down dark passages on either side of him. How large was this place?

“Where do these lead?”

Father Papal turned his head slightly. “I do not know. Our path lies straight ahead.”

Anything could lie in the darkness of the corridors. He despised the thought that there could very well be more vulnerabilities to the city’s safety just beyond the reach of the light.

“I want you to guard these halls day and night until we know where they go.”

“I intend to.” Melchiah turned his eyes to the Apostolic that led them. His voice was like ice.

He understood what he said. He trusted the priest as little as Lady Elaine, but he had led them this far. Perhaps into a trap or some other cruel device, but he doubted it. The sincerity in his voice, and the news he brought was enough to consider him a loose ally, if not a friend. The suspicions however, never lightened. There were few people that he could trust, and it was not something he were willing to offer to anyone. He had much to prove, and the

Expurgators knew it all too well.

He looked down at the leather sack that swung at his side. The bombs weighed his steps as he walked, but he could think of no other way to ensure the gates destruction. It could very well be something otherworldy, but black powder had a way of ignoring such things. He knew that regardless if it were destroyed, the bombs would certainly cave the room in. Nothing would pass through the heavy stone in which these halls were carved. Not even a Daemon.
Lady Elaine’s sobs echoed down the expanse of the darkness that enshrouded them. He knew she was fighting back tears, but she was losing. Each whimper sent daggers of regret though his bones. He loved her, it was something he had never done before, for love was not among his traits. He always knew he felt something for her, but he never expected it to come to this. He never knew she cared for him like she did, until only a few days before. Last night would be his only taste of it. He would never know love again, and the poisons of the thought seeped into him with each step. Her eyes would haunt his memories through his last moments. Her voice; her devotion to humanity, would burn within him until he was but ashes.

In life he would love her. In death his love would torture him, but if he were to die to see to her safety, he would do so without question. She was all that mattered.

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

An eternity passed by as they ventured into the black abyss of the earth. Lady Elaine’s last moments with him were dwindling by, and she was thankful that at least, she felt his love. Her blood burned beneath her skin as it surged through her. Her eyes burned, and her limbs tingled. She had never known the warmth of love, at least not like his.

Regardless if she never saw him again, she was thankful to have experienced him as she had. Her head pounded as she fought back tears. Life was a painful thing, just as love was painful. She never understood why it controlled people the way it did, until last night. It was strong – perhaps the strongest emotion she’d ever felt. Because of its power, she knew now knew why it hurt so.

He was slipping away. He’d told her he would try to come back to her, but she knew him too well. She heard his thoughts before he could speak them. She knew… he was not coming back. She knew, wherever he was going, he would die there. The warmth in her spirit iced over from the thought. Gooseflesh covered her skin as sobs escaped her lips.

How could life take so many things from her? Her god, her home, and now her love. Tragedy seemed to follow ever behind her footsteps like a predator stalking its prey. Valimaar would tell her that it was fate. To hell with fate. To hell with Azaal, and to hell with Ecclesia. Everything she had ever known or loved was vanishing because of it. There was nothing she could do, but carry on with her life. It would be empty without his eyes; his inward nature. She would never again hear his voice or watch him tend to his weapons. The only thing she had left, was her contempt for the Divinity.

Papal stopped as the corridor came to an end. Before them, nothing more than a bare wall stood.

“You forgot where you’re going?” Rialev’s voice was rough as he stared at the priest.

Papal placed his hand upon the stone, and whispered words she could not make out.

Cracks echoed through the darkness and dust fell from the ceiling. The walls and floor rumbled like the growl of a beast. The stone raised and the grinding screeched through her ears and stabbed at her like knives. The wall rose and clicked into place.

Red light burst through the darkness and flowed past them. It illuminated the Underhalls in its crimson brilliance and she rubbed the haze from her eyes. Heat poured through the opening and doused her in its warmth. The air crackled with energy and her hairs stood on end as they stepped through the door between light and dark.

The stone beneath her feet flowed with red moisture as if it were something alive. All about the walls, carvings depicted what she knew to be only one thing. Hell. She saw screaming faces, and burning flesh. Fire. Lightning. She’d never felt fear as she did here in these halls. It felt as though she could wrap herself in its chilling embrace. At the wall farthest from where she stood, the carvings twisted and warped into a maelstrom. They stood before the glowing gateway. It was like scarlet light and rippled and spun like a whirlpool. Behind it, the carvings shifted in its presence. It looked as though the walls were alive. Figures moved about, dancing beneath the shroud of glowing intangible mass.

Upon the walls, bright circles burned a dark blue. Light danced and shifted as the symbols hummed in low melody. Circles within circles spun in opposite directions. Lines stabbed through a triangle at each angle. Dark runes burned upon the stone, and their light shifted colors in rapid succession. The wards they spoke of were activated.

Cries of agony spilled through the tear between worlds. They sung in high chorus throughout the room and tore at her senses. She could only dare to imagine what lay beyond the doorway. She’d never thought that hell would be at all pleasant, but her darkest nightmares couldn’t imagine what vile things wait behind the gate.

The crackle of hellfire stabbed through the howling screams, and the sharp smell of burning flesh ripped at her nostrils. Her eyes watered from its sent, and she tasted vomit at the back of her throat. Her stomach churned and her muscles locked. She felt shivers of cold agony shoot through her as sweat rolled down her cheeks.

Whatever hope she had of Valimaar returning, was gone. Where he was going, only death awaited.

Valimaar stepped forth through the churning stew of fear and torment and she felt herself collapse to the floor. There was no changing his mind. Damn his stubbornness.

Valimaar turned to her, and lifted her from the crimson floor.

Her arms wrapped around him as if she were going to suffocate him. He held her tight in his embrace and his hand ran down her hair to the small of her back. Only he would have such courage to step through such a devilish thing.

“Come back to me, Valimaar.” She felt her words fade into the dim red light.

He nodded. His grip tightened around her before his arms fell away from her. She knew it was the last embrace she would ever know; the last feel of his warmth. "The army will come. Learn to fight. Never stop fighting."

His lips touched hers, and the soft caress of love trickled down her body. She embraced the feeling, knowing she’d never feel it again.

“The wards are activated. We could guard this place. We could ensure that another doesn’t come through.”

Valimaar shook his head. “We can’t take that risk.”

Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Please be careful.”

“Ithaca will keep him safe my lady.” Rialev’s voice thrust through the shroud of crimson.

Valimaar turned from her and stepped toward the shifting light. “Destroy it as soon as I step through.”

The Expurgators nodded in unison.

He motioned to her. "Protect her with all your strength."

She dashed forward as the light swallowed him. “I love you.” She whispered, as the last of his shadow was engulfed.

She couldn’t bring herself to move. She stared into the twisting mass of light, but saw nothing more than her reflection in its brilliance.

The Expurgators rushed about as the laid bombs at each corner of the room and in front of the gate. Rialev ripped the torch from Papal’s grasp as he shot him a fiery glare. He walked about the room, and fuses hissed as the flames licked them.

She felt something pulling at her. It ripped her away from the doorway. Her screams filled the air as the tears flowed like a river. She fought to stay there in that place, but it pulled ever harder. The light faded away as she was pulled back into the darkness.

The wall slid back down to rest in front of her. Rialev and Papal loosed her from their grip, and her fists pounded against the stone. Visions of his face filled her thoughts as she cried. His voice echoed in her ears and the feel of his touch coursed through her body. The walls rumbled from the explosion and the cracks of stone against stone burst through her sobs. The gate was destroyed. The hall was buried, and he was gone.

Forever...