Heresy: The Book of Mammon

Chapter 17

Chapter 17



The cold air of the waking world rushed into him like the flowing waters of the North. It was a feeling Abbadin nearly forgot in the dark bowels of the earth. The night sky blanketed the Cardinal City in a sea of icy veils. His breath rose in front of him in short, misty wisps of vapor. The moon hung low over the rooftops above. The light of dawn would soon swell in the east. He needed to find Jazira, and daylight would not conceal him.

He stalked about the shadows between buildings and in the dark alleys. The frozen earth crunched beneath his feet as he walked. Winter had gone but its embrace remained. The warmth of the previous day was forgotten in the frozen lands of Ecclesia.

Smells of flames burned in his nose as he molded himself into the shadows. The hissing of steam and hum of machinery filled his ears. Ecclesia had forgotten its old ways, and embraced industry. The turning of wheels and the rumble of clockwork churned in his mind. It was strange to think that not but a few months ago it was a nation of worshippers and slave-drivers. Those times were long gone and the sounds of labor and mechanisms bathed its once hymnal elegance. Azul was little more than an excuse.

All about him, lights burned in windows, and steam burst from leaky pipes that rusted upon the sides of houses. Shadows of men and women walked about within the cold light of the moon. All of them busied themselves with some form of labor. The slums had changed. They were no longer the place of disdain and anger, but labor and development.

Steel banged against steel, and sparks flew as stone wheels grinded against metal plates. Furnaces blasted fire and heat in all angles of the heavens, and men and women darted about the chaos of industry with a new energy. Not but months ago they stood with their heads low to the ground, their eyes forever at the earth at their feet. Now, pride carried their stride and their heads were high. Tattered cloth was replaced with colorful weavings. Torches were replaced with new creations; ones he’d never seen. They were like balls of fire burning behind glass. They stood on metal posts and lined the edges of the main roads. They hummed with energy as he strode forward.

He was familiar with the district, but he was not familiar to the people. He stood in the den of the beast. This was a hostile land, and he was their enemy. He knew he couldn’t hide himself from them. His dirty, bloodstained clothes hung upon his skin, and he knew they would pick him out of a crowd of thousands.

Great lumbering giants stood along the roadways. Their steel skin rumbled as they stilled themselves among the masses. Steam hissed between metal plates, and their armor clanged as heavy feet crashed into the ground. He’d never seen anything like them. He could tell they were not alive, but a mass of clockwork and energy. Their engineering was remarkable. Sparks of lightning burst in the hollows of their eyes. They looked upon the working masses in silence. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be guarded by such behemoths. Still, the people did not seem to suffer their presence. Their minds were forever upon the work that lay before them. Even the children tasked themselves with the labor.

Abbadin wormed his way through the shadowed places between towering buildings. Behind the wooden walls, men and women shouted back and forth at one another. Others joined in singsong and melody, and some busied themselves with creation. Their tinkering lingered in the ruckus as he slipped past the light of windows.

Stealth was never one of his prides, but since meeting Ravenna, he’d grown quite accustomed to sneaking. In the mere days he’d known her, she showed him the ways of the hunter. He learned to walk with silent footsteps. He learned to fight with new cunning. He learned that some things were worse than death. Thoughts of her hateful eyes filled his mind. Her rage against Ecclesia burned in her when she was taken, and when he left her there.

He couldn’t let her die, and he knew that Lokken would not let Valimaar die. He was far too important, even if they didn’t understand why. Rakin’s teachings were not to be ignored, and he knew they would not abandon his word. Still, the thought of leaving them there in that place, to the mercy of those hellish things pained him.

Jazira’s home stood before him across the way. The road was polluted with the laboring denizens of the city, and iron beasts stood watch over its solace. It would not be easy to slip by unnoticed. A dark passage weaved between buildings to his left, and he crept through its shadows. He knew the road came to an end at the old tavern. Jazira spent much of her time there in the company of drunkards. If she was not home, he knew she was not far away.

He turned right down the shadows and strode by more buildings. They stood silent in the night. The sounds of labor and industry faded away as he walked. No steam hissed, and no energy hummed its tunes to him. These buildings were forgotten and abandoned. Webs hung in the dark windows, and cracked glass did little to ward out the elements. Behind the windows, wood rotted away, and dust settled upon the sills.

If he had to spend time in Ecclesia, these buildings would prove an excellent place to hide himself. He looked back down the alley and ahead once more. Their escape route was straight and dark. It was all he would need to return to the sewers, though he despised the thought of going back.

The tavern stood alone in the darkness. No drunken singsong came from within its walls. It too was abandoned. Boards hung to rusty nails, and charred ash pasted itself to the exterior. The building had caught fire. Black streaks snaked from the roof to the second floor, and the burnt remains of a man still hung in the shattered remnants of the window. It was a gruesome sight. Did no one care for others in the place?

He made his way round the building, and was relieved to find the alley stretched to the back of her house. He sighed, and his muscles relaxed as he continued on. Metal clanged and crashed by as the lumbering giant walked past along the adjacent road. Its shadow cast itself over him in the fading moonlight and his breath stopped. His jaw tightened, but the shadow was gone. It hadn’t seen him.

Rays of light glowed in the windows to her home, and plumes of smoke rose from the chimney into the dark, starless sky. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the blanket of smoke and steam stole away the beauty of the starry sky that surely loomed above the city. It was sad to see such an atrocity. The skies were his home, and they were to be admired and respected. To deny people the stars, was a crime.

The hollow knocks of his fist against the wood door were followed with muffled sounds of commotion. They sounded panicked. He heard her voice cursing whatever it was. The door swung open and smoke poured from the opening into the cold air. He choked on its abrasive taste and looked through its haze and saw Jazira standing at the entrance.

“Abbadin?”

He nodded. “What be wrong in there?”

“A fire be burning. What be wrong with your eyes?” She smiled at him, and for the first time in a long time, he finally felt himself return.

He vanished the day he left her here. What remnants of him that lingered on through the months were stolen away the night his Dirigible fell to the earth.
Her hands gripped his wrist and she pulled him inside. He thought her arms would crush him as she embraced him. He’d waited to see her for far too long. His sister was the more important to him than anything. She meant more than the sky, or the deserts of Lokken. She was everything to him.

He left her here, just as he abandoned everyone else in the world. He knew though, that he had done it with good reason. The skies of Lokken were his, and his duty was to guard them. That duty was stolen away, but that didn’t matter. Her embrace was all he needed.

“How did you get here?” She sobbed behind the question.

“I have much to be telling you.” He wiped the tear from her cheek and smiled.

“You be looking terrible.” Her eyes scanned his filthy uniform. Remnants of blood and dirt tarnished its elegance and he tried to wipe it away, but it only smeared it deeper into its fabric. “I’ll give you new clothes.”

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

She nodded every so often as he told her of the events that passed over the last days. Jazira busied herself with the fire that burned. He’d never seen the fuel she used. Black rocks burned red as the flames licked them. Smoke poured from them as she tried to contain the flames. He felt heat that was dry and smothering. His eyes felt like there were sand in them as he blinked through the black smoke.

“Damn these rocks.” She said, spitting into the flames.

“Where do you be finding them?”

She turned to him and wiped her watery eyes. “They be digging for them under the earth. They don’t burn the same as wood. I haven’t figured them out yet.”

“I be seeing that.” He smiled at her.

She shook her head and cursed under her breath. “You know your not safe here.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“We be needing to leave.” She turned once more to the fire.

“I can’t leave.”

“This not be the same place anymore. The people be different. They work through the days and nights. They don’t sleep, they don’t eat. They work. They bend metal, and build weapons. They dig into the earth until their hands bleed. Something be changing them.”

“Why does that make it be dangerous?”

She shook her head. “I be afraid it will happen to me. I will be working like them, day and night. I’ll forget who I am, and who you are.”

“Why do you stay?”

“The people not be leaving. They can’t. They tried once the new Arbiter came to power.”

New Arbiter? That was news. “What do you mean?”

“You not be hearing of his death?”

He shook his head.

“The Arbiter was murdered. That Cardinal that lead the wytch hunts be the new one.”

He felt his breath stolen away. Cardinal Celestine now ruled Ecclesia. He couldn’t believe it. He was a wicked man – a dangerous man.

“The people were forced to work. He threatened them with punishment if they didn’t. Those that be refusing were skinned alive in front of us.”

Could it be possible? Could the same monsters that dwelled beneath the city be those unfortunate souls? It was an atrocity; a grotesque abomination to life.

“These new machines be guarding the city. They watch the work. If people don’t work, they be taken by them. I don’t know what they are, but I be knowing there be bad spirits inside them.”

He shifted in his seat, and coughed out the black smoke that burned his lungs.

“We be needing to leave.”

He shook his head. “I can’t leave.”

“Why?” She wiped sweat from her brow and stepped towards him. “We can’t be staying here anymore. Things are changing and I’m afraid for what is happening.”

“Valimaar is here.”

She sunk to the floor and blinked through the hazy smoke. “Was he –“

“Captured.” He nodded.

Her eyes fell to the floor as she shook her head. “Then this be the end.”

“No. I be needing your falcon.”

“Shamir?” She looked up at him. “Why you be needing him?”

“He can carry the message to Lokken. They can save us.”

She shook her head. “Shamir not be a messenger. He does not know how to carry messages.”

“I be an Avian. He’ll carry a message for me.”

“Even if he does, Lokken can’t be helping us.”

“Valimaar be their prisoner! Someone that helped me get here, be their prisoner too. I can’t be abandoning them. Lokken will come, if not for us, they be coming for Valimaar.”

She sighed and nodded. “You be ever stubborn.” She rose from the floor and stepped to the door. She grabbed the quill and parchment and motioned to the door. “Come.”

They stepped out into the cold darkness of the fading moonlight. Dim grey sky loomed in the east. The sun was rising.

Jazira placed her hand at her mouth and whistled into the night sky. The melody was a familiar one. All Avians used it to call their falcons.

The bird swooped in and roosted upon the peak of her roof. Its head jerked and stared at her.

“Hello, Shamir.” She smiled at the elegant falcon and it returned the greeting. Its call burst through the ruckus of the working masses. “My brother be having a job for you.”

He hurried himself, and scribbled the message on the parchment. He rolled it in his hands and held it up to the bird. The bird swooped low and gripped his outstretched arm with its talons. Its claws dug into his flesh, but he fought its stabbing pain away.

He whispered in its ear, and the bird cried out as it looked at him. He smiled at it and held the parchment out. Its wings flapped and it took flight. Shamir ripped the parchment from his hand, and faded into the distance.

He watched as it flew into the darkness toward the south. It carried his message, and with it, his cry for help. Hope remained.