The Lost Book of Chaos: How to Divide the World (The Secret Wars of Angels 1)

by Thomas, J. D.

  “Hey!” the guard called out. “Watch out, he might do something funny.”

  “It's all right,” Fielle reassured the guard. “You're making the patient uncomfortable, it might be a good idea if you move a small distance away.” The guard grunted in disgust, but followed as ordered, then shifted his attention elsewhere.

  Good move, Judas thought, though he knew Fielle had not realized what she had done, and the opportunity it had created for him. Judas did not need to do anything, he just needed a way to talk to Fielle.

  “Do you believe there are secrets hidden from the world?” Judas began in a low voice.

  Fielle's eyes widened. “You're able to speak more clearly now!”

  Judas signalled for Fielle to also lower her voice. Fielle nodded, understanding.

  “You're hands are also steady,” Fielle said, a look of excitement in her eyes.

  “There is something they are injecting in me that takes away my consciousness and leaves my mind useless,” Judas explained. “But it seems my body is getting used to it, and I am able to resist its effects. We must not let them know, or they will increase the dose.”

  Fielle's posture was stiff.

  “It's all right,” Judas said, “I won't do anything that will put you in danger. All I ask is that you listen to my story and that you send my message.”

  “Message?” Fielle asked.

  “It is a simple message,” Judas answered. “I will tell you how to send it and where to send it.”

  “But this is so sudden,” Fielle said, “I thought you were ill of the mind, and now you're talking to me like an ordinary person!”

  “Listen,” Judas said, “because we are running out of time. The world is in danger from many directions: The Ouroboros, The Angels, The Serpent Prophets, The Slayers. You will not believe me, so it's safer if you assume I am lying.”

  “The angels?” Fielle asked, confused. “The prophets? The au-ra-bo—”

  “Send my people a message,” Judas said, “there is nothing to lose. If I am lying, nothing will happen anyway.”

  Fielle sighed. “I will hear your message first, and I will decide if it's all right to send.”

  “Fair enough,” Judas said. “The message is this: The Betrayer Is Here.”

  “That's it?” Fielle asked, suddenly a look of doubt crossed her eyes. She took a quick glimpse in the direction of the guards, but they seemed to be interested in something else, not knowing the drug they injected in Judas was no longer potent.

  “That's it,” Judas said. “Then send them the coordinates of this place.”

  “And how do I send them this message?” Fielle said. “And who is 'them'? Who do I send this to?”

  Judas explained the place where he buried a sword. After explaining, he asked Fielle to repeat his words.

  “When you find the sword, you will know that what I say is true,” Judas said. “Everything will become clear, and all your questions will be answered.”

  One of the guards approached.

  “You... know,” Judas said, pretending to stammer, “I led... generals... to great... battlefields... once. But I... have to... buy... more time.” Judas pretended to be frustrated at his inability to talk straight.

  The guard continued listening in.

  “The snake... the snake bites its own tail,” Judas said. “That is the Ouroboros. The world... The world destroys... itself. Humans destroy ourselves. Angels destroy... themselves. The Ouroboros.”

  Fielle turned and gave the guard a hard stare, at which the guard just shrugged. Satisfied, the guard nodded to himself before returning to his post.

  With the guard gone, Judas continued. “The sword is old, rusty, and is broken,” Judas explained. “But when you see it, you will know everything I say is true. When you touch it, the truth will all be revealed to you. The key is this... Your blood will become my blood, and my blood will become your blood.”

  “Judas,” Fielle said, “wait, I am not even sure if I know you. After all this time, I never really knew you. I always thought you were...” Fielle paused, looking for the right word.

  “Crazy?” Judas said. “I take no offense. It is reasonable to think I am crazy. But just do this for me, even if it's out of curiosity. If the sword is not there, then you will know I am lying.”

  “I will try Judas,” Fielle said, “but no promises.”

  “Fair enough,” Judas said.

  Fielle stood up and turned, unsure what to make of the situation. How could one of the patients she had been visiting, a man who could hardly say a sentence straight, a man whose hands shivered involuntarily, suddenly become well? How could someone sick of the mind, suddenly speak coherently? Was there any truth, that the institution was drugging Judas to make him appear crazy?

  But, the man might still actually be crazy. It might just be a temporary lapse. And what was this sword he was talking about?

  Fielle had had a long day and decided not to think about it.

  She didn't think that what Judas was saying was possible, but she was here, in the place that he had described. She couldn't believe she had actually done what Judas asked her.

  The place was in one of the few Old Churches—the Church of Thomas. Though no one today believed in the Creator anymore, after thousands of years of trying to prove the Creator's existence and finding nothing, all that was left were a few buildings that were preserved as historical sites.

  The Church had no walls, there were columns here and there, distributed in a pattern that made no sense. One could enter freely from any direction. The columns provided some cover when the Church was viewed from afar, but moving closer to the Church, one could find the openings in between the alternate columns. This made it possible to enter the Church from all directions. Was it always this way? Or had the walls been torn down at some point? Fielle doubted so.

  Very few today frequented the Old Church, especially the Church of Thomas. Even in its time, the Church of Thomas was historically a small Church, surviving the wars only by chance. It was lucky that the building was still standing today, after the government of the Earth had decided that Church Institutions were no longer deemed necessary. Only a few Churches remained, as part of historical sites that were preserved, which included other types of buildings as well. Fifty years after the separation of Church and the World Government, a move that was built to totally remove the existence of the Church.

  Fielle followed the instructions of Judas, half thinking she had gone crazy for believing what Judas had said.

  “If I press this stone here,” Fielle mumbled to herself, “then press this wall there... Then move over and stand here...”

  She felt her cheeks flush out of the silliness of the situation, deep inside she was glad that there was no one here to see what she was doing.

  “Then I say seven times... A-leph-lamed-hey-mem! I seek the Spirit Of Truth!”

  Fielle froze. There was a soft sound from the back of the Church. She turned to make sure no one was there. No one. She sighed in relief.

  Fielle repeated the words. On the third try, there was another soft sound from the back of the Church. Fielle waited, but there was nothing. So she continued.

  At the start of the seventh repetition, there was a soft grumbling. She couldn't believe that the ground had begun to shake, just as Judas had warned her. She lowered herself on all fours for balance.

  She had to finish this. “I seek the Spirit Of Truth!”

  Eruptions sounded from multiple directions, everything seemed to fall apart, Fielle thought the Church would just fall on her. The columns started shifting, falling, falling towards her.

  She was going to die.

  But the columns did not fall. She realized the columns hadn't actually fallen, instead, the columns moved! But while she was still alive, her problem now was that there was no way out. Everywhere she looked, all the paths were blocked. She was trapped in the middle of the Church, and worse, no one aside from Judas knew she was here.

&
nbsp; “Great,” Fielle said, trying to calm herself down, “now what?”

  That was the end of the instructions of Judas. She tried to recall what else he had said, but there was nothing else. Fielle tried to feel her way around the columns that now made a wall around her, maybe there was a mechanism for opening a hidden entryway.

  “Ow!” Fielle said, because as she felt through the column-walls, a sharp edge cut her hand. Luckily it was just a small cut.

  Fielle continued, this time slowly, and more carefully. But there was nothing.

  She looked up, hoping there was a way of climbing up the upper reaches of the Church, where light slanted down to where she was. But there were no handholds, and even if there were, Fielle was not the type who could climb walls like that.

  She sat down, giving up. As she did, something clanged beneath her. She touched it, hoping it would be something useful. What was it? There on the floor, embedded into a tile, was the shape of what looked like...

  A broken sword!

  How did she miss this? Hurriedly, Fielle pried it with her fingers, and surprisingly it came out rather easily.

  Nothing happened. Now what?

  She took it in her hands, careful not to cut herself with it. The blade looked ancient, but there was no rust. But she could tell it did not come from any recent moment in time. First, because swordsmiths were practically non existent in the last two centuries, because swords were rendered useless by the advent of technology. Second, she had never seen a real sword before, only in pictures.

  Fielle turned it over several times, wondering how the things Judas said were actually coming true. The sword was broken above the hilt, the blade extended only a few inches. It had a golden hilt, and the blade was made of silver. The golden hilt had the appearance of a snake coiled around itself, with life-like scales, and the tip of the hilt ended with the head of a snake. She marvelled at the craftsmanship, considering this must have been done by hand and not machinery. Such precision!

  Even the head of the snake looked real, as if it would come alive any moment and bite her. Of course, the snake couldn't possibly be alive, but after all that she had seen today, it would come as no surprise.

  Now what? She had the sword, but she had no way out.

  Then she remembered something else that Judas had said. It was not part of the instructions that Judas had given, but something else he had mentioned as a ‘key’.

  Judas had said something like... “The key is that your blood will become my blood, and my blood will become your blood.”

  It didn't make sense to her. There was no possible scientific explanation for any of this. If this was made even two hundred years ago, how can the sword be made to respond to blood? The people then did not have the sophisticated technology to make a sword that could respond to blood. But the people now did not have the reason for crafting it either.

  But everything else didn't make sense as well. How can it be that a Church from two hundred years ago had stone columns that moved around in response to a sequence of patterns and words, and at such scale and complexity! Who would build this, and why? There were no records that she knew of, even of the most complex buildings in those times, of such a type of building or this nature of construction.

  “Here goes,” Fielle said as she flinched at the thought of cutting her own hand, even lightly. She needed to make sure that the wound was only skin deep, just enough for some blood to flow but not to cause any serious injury.

  Fielle closed her eyes, then gently slid the edge of the blade in her hand. The moment she felt the prick of the blade, she stopped. Her blood trickled from the sword.

  At that moment, the world became still, and there came a series of flashes, memories, and visions of many lifetimes. At that moment, the secrets of the world were revealed to her. The Spirit of Truth was inside her.

  Fielle fell on her knees, weak from all the revelation. She had not realized the columns were now back in place, the same as before she had arrived.

  She tried to stand up, but even before she could, she gasped as she saw the shadow of the woman standing in front of her.

  ARC 1, HUMAN: The Ouroboros

  Chapter 1 - Judas the Betrayer

  Circa 30 A.D.

  2000 years before the Battle of Slayers.

  It was terrifying. The world he once thought he knew had turned upside down. And it happened all in the course of a few days.

  Friendships that once tied them together, now the same ties that ripped them apart. People who chased after the good of all became the very evil that the society warned against. He knew, because that was how his world had erupted into total chaos.

  Judas ran on the rooftops of the city.

  Behind him, men and women, young and old, bearing cudgels and kitchen knives and wooden clubs, chased after him, cursing and screaming. A small crowd followed the chase from the streets below, watching the commotion the way they watched entertainment in the arena. His pursuers weren’t warriors; they were mere villagers believing that what they were doing was for the good of all. Their lack of military training should have given Judas an advantage, the only problem was, he too was not a soldier.

  Judas jumped across and landed on another roof, then turned in another direction. The next jump was quite far, but it was perfect for his purpose. For a brief moment, he peered below.

  The people below looked small, too small for his liking; any miscalculation on his part would mean the end of him. But, so would getting caught. The former was probably a quicker death, the latter he did not want to think about.

  For a brief moment, he remembered the image of his Master standing to his right. Crucified. Tortured. Dead. His last words to him...

  “Find Sky Jerusalem,” the Master had said. “In that place, we will meet again.”

  Judas tried not to shudder. Now was not the time to doubt himself, because any hesitance could prove fatal.

  Gritting his teeth, he ran. He ran as fast as he could. The key to surviving the jump was momentum. At the last moment, Judas leapt, crying out in a loud voice as if the world was about to end.

  But although he cried his lungs out, he couldn't hear anything. The streets below seemed to pull him down, even his voice disappeared in it and the very gravity seemed to double. While in mid-air, the other side looked far, too far!

  This was the end for him.

  At least until he felt his feet touch the roof, and he rolled himself down to get to safety. Judas grunted as his body landed on the other side, his vision momentarily turning black. Judas tried to catch his breath, then erupted in an uncontrollable mad laughter.

  By the time he looked back, he saw that his pursuers had paused, hesitant. No one would be crazy enough to traverse the air with such distance.

  However, one of the pursuers, a young man who had freckles on his face, a foolish man by the looks of it, looked like he was about to try.

  Judas shook his head, cursing, as the young man prepared himself for a run.

  The idiot! Judas cursed again, mentally.

  The young man’s starting run was too slow, the momentum would not be enough. The jump... Oh the jump was hopeless.. Judas thought.

  All scenarios pointed to the conclusion that the young man would die. The only way the young man would survive was if—

  Do not attempt to save him.

  Judas froze.

  The voice sounded raspy and inhuman and sent the hairs on the back of his head standing on end. Had he gone crazy?

  But there was no time, Judas rushed forward and reached out for the young man, hoping to get there in time. However, the slight delay had made the difference, and no matter how hard he tried he could not reach the young man. But rather than fall, the young man had somehow managed to hold on to the edge of the roof, but there was a loud sickening sound of bone cracking.

  Which bone, Judas did not know, but he was not in the mind to find out. One or both of the young man's arms were broken from the way the man hung on to the ledge. The
young man’s face was twisted in agony.

  You don’t have to do anything. The raspy voice in his head said.

  Just let it happen.

  If you let him fall, it will not be on you.

  Great. All he had endured in the past few weeks must have driven him nuts to the point that a strange imaginary voice was talking to him. But now was not the time to worry about the inhuman voice.

  Judas tried to ignore it, then reached out and grabbed the young man with both arms, and heaved with all his might. The young man cried in pain, and Judas heard the sound of more bone cracking as he did so—that if the young man’s arms were not broken before, Judas was quite sure they were now.

  Judas broke in a mad laughter.

  First, he had almost died. And now, he was saving someone who was trying to kill him. Madness!

  “He broke my boy’s arms,” one of the pursuers on the other side of the building cried. “He broke my boy’s arms!” Well, so much for helping someone.

  The voice in his head growled. Someday your sympathy for your enemies will bring death to us all, choosing you for such a great task was a mistake, the inhuman voice spoke in his head, but this time, the voice trailed away and sounded as if it had lost interest in Judas and had focused its attention on other more important things.

  Good. If his imaginary voice had gone somewhere else, it was all for the better.

  Judas turned to run, but the young man behind him held his ankle. Judas looked at the young man. Now what? But the young man simply attempted to smile, a twisted expression that would haunt him in his dreams.

  “Thank you,” the young man said before letting go. Judas was thankful to be rid of the young man.

  Judas dashed forward, but the problem was becoming evident. He was running out of roofs as he was nearing the northern edge of the city. Well, it had to happen sometime. Lucky for him the city had no walls, so he could get out. But unlucky for him, doing so would put him in the open, vulnerable if his pursuers rode on horseback. He was safer in the city, where the population could hide him, than out there. And besides, where would he go?