Apostasy: Chapter 4

Chapter IV

         The halls of the basilica were filled with the busy bodies of the presbyterate and episcopate. They darted about, attempting to keep the terror from their minds. Valimaar knew that such an act was ill ignored, especially within the seat of the Ecclesiarchy. Though, the cold pain still throbbed in his body, constantly bombarding him with discomfort, he kept his resolve. For the arbiter to summon them both here was not something he could afford to disobey despite the fruitlessness of it all.

         He sat at a long wooden pew in the back of the great hall, awaiting Lady Elaine’s summons. He knew that she would be indisposed this day so he did his best to remain patient. He did not like her being so far from his gaze, but within the basilica itself, few would dare to do anything to harm her. However, with the recent event, he wasn’t sure that such a thought was comforting him or unsettling.

         He could hear the feint whispers of the many presbyterate that stamored through the halls. His best guess was it was that of the murder. Who could blame them? For it was certainly an unignorable tragedy. However, with the many deaths that the plague was claiming, perhaps the time spent mourning one death, could be spent on perhaps the greater tragedy. People seemed to devote their attentions to the wrong things often times. Valimaar had always abhorred the quality. It was very much something that he never understood, nor did he want to. He simply went along with it all. Though sometimes he never understood why he did that, what else could he do? A sister had been murdered. A member of the diaconate, who lived within the halls that housed the arbiter himself, lay dead. It was indeed troublesome, but the plague claiming the thousands within the month of its birth, was far more trouble than could be ignored. Perhaps they hadn’t seen what he and Lady Elaine had seen. Ecclesia itself seemed remarkably untouched by the blight. He was thankful for that.

         For the plague to breach the walls that have forever stood against all evil, would be a catastrophe. He couldn’t imagine a world without the Divinity. Though, they themselves had a tendency to sometimes handle things in the wrong fashion, they kept people hopeful. Sometimes, they kept them in line, he had seen to that. Despite the shortcomings of it all, it was all people had. The world was a dark and terrible place, a place where murderers often times came and went without being stopped. It was a world where the poor starved, and the rich fed their table scraps to the dogs. Now more than ever, it was a world where the Divinity was needed. Now it was a world where death was allowed to roam unchallenged. No amount of swords, guns, armor, and soldiers in the world could combat hopelessness. Despite all of the nonsense, poor decisions, and disregard, he went along with it all, because he knew it was still worth protecting.

         “What are you thinking about?”

         The pleasant question started him from his thoughts as he looked up into her inquisitive eyes.

         “My lady, I’m thinking that everything we’re doing is worth something,” he said to her, watching the many priests wandering through the halls.

         Lady Elaine smiled, “It wasn’t before?”

         “I’m sure it was,” he said, “but I wasn’t sure a few days ago.”

         “There are no accidents prefect.”

         The voice from behind them interrupted her moment, it was the first time he had really spoken of his feelings. And she was more than happy to listen.

         “What I mean to say is, there is a reason that everything happens; just as you two were decided to be partnered to combat this plague, there was a reason for you to be here,” he said, turning in his seat to face them. It was Father Edmund.

         They immediately dropped to their knee to greet him.

         “Stop that nonsense,” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes at them. “You act as though I am Saint Peregrine himself!”

         “We apologize your grace, we forget that you’re not fond of the formalities,” Lady Elaine said.
He displayed a quaint smile, “Indeed I’m not,” he said, patting her shoulder, “There’s a reason you two have been summoned to Ecclesia. Yes, the Arbiter has requested it, but Azul influences all of us, if it is her will for you to be here, how can you question it?”
Valimaar shook his head, “I find myself questioning a lot of things.”

         “And rightly so,” the bishop said, “We all question her motives prefect. But many times, they aren’t for us to understand. We are weak minded people Valimaar, we often times overlook answers that are directly in front of us. But many times, when we begin to question enough, we begin to find answers, it’s a simple matter of knowing what questions to ask.”

         Another cryptic response, but at least it somewhat made sense… somewhat.

         “I’ve been asked to lend you any assistance I can, I have arranged for my head librarian to meet with you two during your investigations,” he said, turning to walk away.

         “Remember, there are no accidents…”

         Those were his last words before strolling away, down the halls and between the hustling presbyterate. The ruckus and commotion of it all seemed as though it was non-existent to him.

         There are no accidents…

         There was certainly more to that than the bishop had explained, but bishops always spoke as though they were reading from the scriptures. Cryptic, and formal. Language that few people used, or understood.

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

         The foul, metallic smell of dried blood and spent flesh filled the cold air of the lower halls of the basilica. The smell was but a minor atrocity in comparison to the body that lay before them. It was immediately clear that this was more than a simple murder. It was more than fanaticism from a cultist sect. This was a ritual; a ritual by someone with far more hatred for the Divinity than any heretic that Valimaar had laid eyes on. He burned with rage as he looked at the desecrated corpse of the young woman laid out upon the bed as if he had posed her for them to see. It was disgusting. The fact that someone could have the desire to do this to another person was almost too much to bare. Perhaps his duties when he was an expurgator were not that terrible. If this was what he was fighting the whole time, then there was absolutely no reason for him to question it.

         The only comfort he had found, is that she was long dead before he began to carve her body. The thin red, and bloody line across her neck was a testament that he had strangled her to death before the rest of it occurred. She had a relatively painless passing, unless by some cruel device of the old gods, her spirit felt the pain her body endured in the afterlife.

         The carvings were so precise… so precise it made him sick. This person took his time. And it took a long time to do what he had done. It was terrible to think that for as long as this person was in here, no one had seen or heard anything.

         He could tell that it was far too much for Lady Elaine to see. The color of her skin, and her heavy breathing suggested that she was struggling to keep from vomiting, or perhaps screaming.

         “As I’m sure you can tell, we’ve done our best at keeping this quiet, but she was well known in the Diaconate. News of her death spread almost immediately.”

         The words fell on deaf ears. Both of them were entranced by what lay before them.
“Brother Valimaar?”

         He turned to look at the man. The chief inspector wasn’t much to look at in terms of strength or appearance, but he had a reputation within Ecclesia. He was a devoted person. Well known among the populace as being firm, determined, and intimidating. He was a rather large individual, in most cases, he could easily best someone in combat. Though, he was not a soldier. His functions were merely to investigate the many crimes that happened in the cardinal city. Though it was a bastion of faith in the world, it was not without evil. Most crimes committed were petty thefts, and occasional scuffles amongst drunkards. It was rare that anything ended in death. But times were darker than usual, and the plague that ravaged the outer fringes of Ecclesia took a new face within the city. Instead of sickness, it was murder. Quite a bit of it, as the Inspector had explained to them. This had been the fourth murder in a month. Two were committed in the same night. Those were the first. All of them were similar but none were this grotesque.

         The inspector was certain that it was the same person, as his means of killing were the same. All the victims had been garroted, gagged, and slain with a knife. However, none of the others had had symbols carved into their flesh.

         “I imagine something like this would be impossible to contain,” Valimaar stated.

         “I’ve honestly never seen a wave of violence like this… I’ve been the chief inspector for nigh on a decade and there’s been a murder here and there, but nothing like this.”

         “This was more than a murder,” Valimaar replied, staring closely at the markings cut deep into her skin pale skin.

         “I’m aware of that.”

         “This was some sort of ritual. I’ve never seen one like this, but I have seen some of these symbols before,” he turned away from her, shielding his nose from the stench.

         “I’ve seen them all,” Lady Elaine stated, between troubled breaths, “Except these.”

         She pointed to the symbols drawn in blood on the wall, directly above the woman’s head.

         “And the dead shall inherit the earth,” Valimaar said, staring at the symbols with a scowl.

         “You know this language,” Lady Elaine asked with surprise.

         Valimaar nodded, “I’m familiar with it. It is common among cultist rituals, most expurgators are taught how to read it. It’s a long dead language that was used widely in the dark days.”

         The dark days… she had read of them many times. It was an era of the young world that had no order. Daemons were said to roam about freely in that time, before Saint Peregrine rose as Azul’s prophet, and banished them.
Men were quite different in those times. They were mentioned frequently in the scriptures as being without morals. There were no laws that drove their motives, only the haunting and violent lusts of minds that had not yet been illuminated by the teachings.

         “What of the rest of it? You said that you have seen these markings before,” the inspector asked, pointing at the mutilated flesh of the young deacon.

         Lady Elaine stared in a trance at the abomination before her, “They too are a long dead language. I’ve seen them many times in the older books of the basilica. I’m not sure what they mean, but I may know a priest that does.”

         She turned away from the foul sight. It was almost too much for her to see. She had seen what the plague had done to people, she had seen daemons possess the innocent, but she had never seen what daemons do to them. There were no words to describe the feeling coursing through her veins. It was a collision of anger, regret, sorrow, hatred, and disgust, all of which fused together to make it something alive and almost tangible. Her stomach was turning, and her heart was ravaged by the sight. How cruel it can all be. Lady Elaine had never smelled blood before until she encountered the plague, and the terrible stench that it left in her nose was enough to wish to forget it forever. This was worse. Far worse. This was the scent of something foul and unholy. Something that even the devourers of carrion would turn away from if they were starving. Not even a maggot would desire such a thing. Despite it all, there was a reason she was here, and she had to prove her worth… even if it was sickening.

         “Who,” the inspector asked, scanning the corpse.

         “Father Gordon,” Valimaar said, turning his attention to Lady Elaine, he knew that she would agree.

         The inspector closed the drapes to the window, warding off the scene from passers-by. He turned slowly towards them, and leaned in close. “Take care of what you mention in these halls Expurgator, they don’t like people speaking of heretics,” he whispered.

         “He is the only one that has any knowledge of that language. It’s the original language of the scriptures, not many people are still around from when they were written,” Valimaar stated, sarcastically.

         The chief inspector took a deep breath and shook his head, “I’ll take you to him. But you must never mention this to anyone.”
They nodded their agreement, before heading out of the dreadful room.

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

         The lower dungeons of the Hereticus Administratum had not changed since Valimaar had last been there. The dank, dark air of the oppressing tunnel was smothering. The foul smell of urine, blood, and feces, stuck in their noses like a knife in wood. It was almost enough to make the strongest stomach turn.

         Straining his eyes in the dark, Valimaar could barely make out the stamps on the iron cell doors. They were rusted and eroded. This was a place he was unfamiliar with. The chief inspector had led them here, through a series of twists and turns, stairs and ladders through trap doors. The labyrinth they were navigating through had to have been as old as Ecclesia itself. The neglect of time had left its mark in these forgotten tunnels. Moss, fungus, and mold were all quite prominent on the damp stone walls. The floor was slick with a slimy residue from the decaying lichens that lined the stones. Torches flickered every so many paces, but they offered little in the way of light. The darkness here was something that they had never experienced, as if it were dense like a fog. It swallowed everything.
For an hour they navigated down and down until finally the chief inspector turned round on his heels to face them.

         “I imagine it’s been a very long time since he’s spoken to someone, much less seen the light of a torch. Do not be surprised if he is a little mad in the head.”

         They nodded.

         The rusty iron door offered much resistance as the inspector tugged on the handle. It groaned like a wounded beast as it slowly gave way. In the flickering light of the torch, the bony figure of a broken man huddled in the corner of the dark room. All around him lay his own filth. The smell was nearly deadly. He shielded his eyes from the light, as he continued to mutter in incoherent ramblings.
It was the first time Valimaar had seen him since the trials. He had decayed away in this place, offering little more than the shell of his former self. It looked as though he had aged a hundred years since then. His long, matted and stained hair, stuck to his bony back as if it was lashed to him. His skin hung off his bones in a way that looked as though he were made of wax, melting in the sun. It had been nearly two years since the trial that had sealed the man’s fate. Valimaar stood over it, he after all was his accuser.

         “Father Gordon,” the inspector said firmly, “Before you stand brother Valimaar of the Expurgators, and the Vicar Forane. There is a situation that you may be able to aid us with.”

         The ragged man turned his head at the mention of Valimaar’s name, a low growl rumbled in the corner as his eyes glowed with rage in the flickering torch light.

         “You,” he said, his voice slithered out of his mouth like a viper.

         “You dare show yourself to me now,” he yelled, jumping from his corner at Valimaar. The long yellow fingernails were starving for his throat.

         Valimaar, jumped back and with lightning swiftness, the muzzle of his pistol was resting at the tip of the man’s nose.
“I am not here to mock you heretic,” Valimaar said, cocking the hammer back.

         “So you are here to deliver the execution I was denied,” Father Gordon asked, repositioning his head so that the muzzle rested on his brow. “By all means, shoot.”

         “We are here for your help,” Lady Elaine said, resting a hand on Valimaar’s forearm, attempting to coax him from his attack posture.

         The hollow cackle echoed through the dark room, shattering their ears like old, brittle glass.

         “My help? You seek my help? After what you did to me, the last thing you are going to get, Expurgator, is my help,” he said, spitting his words out with a rage.

         “A heretic deserves all punishment that is delivered upon him,” Valimaar said through gritted teeth, “Perhaps Azul shall show mercy to you if you help our cause.”

         “And whom does your cause serve prefect,” the priest asked angrily, “your precious Ecclesiarchy?”

         Lady Elaine stepped between them, “There was a murder in the basilica, the likes of which none have ever seen. There were symbols carved into her flesh, symbols we know you can understand.”

         Valimaar forcibly nudged her aside, for letting her put herself in harm’s way was not something he would tolerate.

         Father Gordon turned away from them mumbling, “So it has begun then.”

         “What has begun,” the chief inspector asked, stepping closer.

         “The beginning of the end,” he replied with emptiness.

         The man turned to face them once more and stepped closer, “Show me the symbols,” he said, glaring into Valimaar’s green eyes.

         The chief inspector knelt down as his finger began to draw the symbols in the thick lair of dust on the floor. The accuracy of his drawings indicated that he had studied the corpse for quite a while. The reputations of his devotion were true.

         Father Gordon occasionally nodded and muttered something under his breath as he watched the man draw out the carvings. Occasionally his brow would lower as if he were being hit with a tidal wave of emotions. He hung his head low upon the inspector’s completion. It seemed as though what he was about to say, he had wanted to say for an eternity.

         “It is an incantation of sorts,” he said, staring at the three, “More than that, it is a prophecy, one that I have tried very hard to forget.”

         “What does it say,” Valimaar asked, staring at the drawing in the dirt.

         “It speaks of how the world of men will fall, and the daemons shall once again return from the earth.”

         “That is blasphemy! Blasphemy spilt from the fetid tongue of an old and forgotten heretic,” Lady Elaine shouted, it was everything she could do to not strike the man where he stood. She had never felt rage like this before. Speaking of such things was an abomination.

         “It is the truth,” he rebutted, clenching his fists.

         “It is the same truth that put me here in this awful hell of a place,” his head hung low as his words faded into nothing.

         Valimaar placed a calming hand on her shoulder, “Let this man speak.”

         “I know you all believe in what you do, I do not doubt that,” the hobbled man stated, “Perhaps my being here may serve a higher purpose. Every religion has its martyrs…”

         “Please Father Gordon, tell us what you know,” the inspector said.

         “Very well,” he said, plopping himself on the cold stone floor, “My time serving the arbiter as a historian were spent translating the ancient texts of the old library. It is, the same library that the Vicar Forane has called her home all this time. These are halls that you yourself are quite unfamiliar with. Within them contain the oldest of the writings that have founded the Divinity. Many of them are contained within its scriptures, and most of them for certain reasons were omitted and forgotten.”

         Lady Elaine stepped closer, “Why would they be omitted?”

         “That is a very good question priestess,” he said, turning to her, “There are some things in this world that are secret for a reason. I cannot explain it all but what I can explain goes beyond what you would be willing to believe. There are pages within those halls that should be read, and others that must never be. It was my charge to translate as well as catalogue all of them. I must say that for a very long time, I thought I was serving the right purpose until I found a book.”

         “What book,” Valimaar asked.

         “It was book bound in skin… human skin. It was one that I had never seen before, in the oldest section of the library. It was not shelved with any other books or scrolls, rather it was hidden away. I found it beneath a loose stone in the floor, wrapped in old cloth that was stained with ancient blood. Brother Valimaar, I have waited a very long time to tell this to someone willing to listen, the last time I spoke of these things I was imprisoned.”

         “The circumstances are different now Father Gordon,” Lady Elaine said.

         The old man nodded, “As I said, there is a reason that some things are kept secret.”

         He turned to them, his eyes were wide and glowing like the full moon, “Find the book, you will understand.”

         “What does the book say,” the inspector asked with force.

         “I cannot speak of it inspector,” he replied, as his hands grasped his head as if something were gnawing its way through his ears, “You’re salvation, our salvation, and all of this world’s are within that book. Without it, you will never win this battle.”

         “And what of the symbols,” Valimaar asked, pointing to the drawings on the floor.

         “The culling of a thousand thousand innocent souls, bright and pure, shall invoke the wake of the betrayer of man. The second verse is incomplete, it is one that I have never fully translated,”

         “What does it say,” Lady Elaine asked.

         “In the torrent of his wrathful return…”

         “The dead shall inherit the earth,” Valimaar said.