“Because I love him,” Molly blurted out. “I’m sorry, Rick. But he said this message was so important to give. I had to lie to you. You wouldn’t have taken me otherwise.”
Ellen could only see the back of Rick’s head, but if his voice was any indication, he was very upset. “I guess we’ll never know.”
El Cid leaned back upon her desk, placing her hands on its edges. This time she directed her question to Rick. “Where are you from?”
“Harpsborough,” he answered.
Then she turned back to Molly. “Did Cris give you a story, so that we would know it was him?”
“Yes, but I’ve forgotten most of it.”
The pretty one moved to sit on the desk next to El Cid.
The black skinned infidel put down the piece of his rifle he was cleaning. “Well, go on and tell it to us . . . what was your name?”
“Molly.”
“Go ahead and tell us what you remember of the story, Molly.”
“It was about a swallow, I think. It made a nest in a court house. It watched the judge give many fair judgments. Then a snake came and ate her eggs. The swallow was very sad and felt like it was very unfair that she would not receive any justice in a house of law.”
El Cid’s face was unreadable. “That’s a good story, Molly. It is from the book of Gehennic Law. But there is a book of Gehennic Law located near Harpsborough, is their not, Q?”
The black skinned Infidel Friend nodded. “There is. And a traitor out in that direction as well. One who was once an Infidel Friend but now is not. How are we to know you haven’t been sent by the traitor?”
“I don’t know!” Molly said loudly. “I don’t know. That story was the only one he told me. But the message was about the traitor you mentioned.”
El Cid leaned forward, but her hands stayed on the desk. “Go on.”
“Cris said that he’d gathered news on the traitor. Said that he had returned, or was returning, to the city on the edge of the River of Darkness. Said they were trying to get someone back from the other side. Someone who’d been exiled to Sheol.”
El Cid’s tiny chin rose. One of her thin fingers tapped that chin.
Q reassembled his rifle in a flurry of motion. “Can’t be true. Nothing can cross Erebus. Furies would get them.”
El Cid shook her head. “The Infidel did.”
The male of the couple spoke up. “You mean to get Lilith?”
“Yes,” El Cid answered.
“But I thought he committed suicide to get to the lower level?”
“That’s the myth in Gehennic Law,” El Cid answered, “but it’s just a story. Surely you don’t believe that. No, the Infidel found a way across Erebus, all those years ago. And if he did it, then it’s possible that someone else could, too, provided that anyone remembered the method. Or if someone rediscovered it.”
“The traitor was one of us,” Q said. “It’s possible he learned how to make the crossing from one of the old survivors. Maybe from Endymion, or Huginn or Muninn.”
The female of the couple spoke, “I think Cris was telling Molly about the City of Blood and Stone. That’s the only one I know of on the edge of Erebus. No purely human city could survive there, surely. If the traitor had the resources of that city at his disposal . . .”
El Cid stood up from her desk. “Molly, I want you to think very carefully. Where was it Cris said he was going?”
“He said he was going to the River of Darkness. He was going to scout it out. He wanted some . . . he called it redundancy. And to get word to the Infidel.”
El Cid nodded. “Jessica, Eagan, send three messengers to Endymion. Apprise them of the situation. Make sure the message is in cipher.” She turned to Rick. “These are your people?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where Cris entered the Carrion?”
“Yes.”
“Then you will escort us there. Is that understood and acceptable?”
“Of course,” Rick told her. “We’re at your service.”
“Yes you are,” El Cid said. “We move out in one hour.”
Ellen glared at Molly.
No wonder everyone thinks she’s a bitch.
Rick touched her shoulder. “Don’t be angry, Ellen.”
“But she betrayed us,” Ellen answered, a bit louder than she’d meant to.
Eagan and Jessica walked out of the door. The remaining Infidel Friend were up and moving, packing their things and preparing to leave.
Rick leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “Molly thought it was what she had to do. Maybe the lie wasn’t the right idea, Ellen, but she did have to come here.”
Ellen remembered Cris as he walked through the Golden Door. “Cris said something else, too,” she said aloud.
The movement in the room stopped. Everyone was staring at her.
“Before he left,” Ellen clarified. “The Harpsborough villagers had exiled him, and they forced him to go through this Golden Door. He called it a golden net.”
El Cid smiled up at her. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Ellen.”
“I think I like you, Ellen.”
Kyle awoke to the sound of whistling. It was a human’s whistle, flippant, and it carried a tune he’d heard before but couldn’t quite place. He opened his eyes.
I’m alive.
He found himself lying on the floor in a small room, well lit for the Carrion, but darker than the ones that typically surrounded Harpsborough. The floor felt freezing against his exposed legs. Someone had cut away his bandages and applied a cream colored salve.
A corpse knelt over him. This one was particularly well preserved, and the smell somewhat more palatable. The odor was more like an ancient, dusty bookcase than it was like rotting flesh. The skin on its face was also remarkable. Pale, certainly. Dead, definitely, and marked with a forest of soft blue veins which gave the thing’s visage the look of marble. It appeared also to be devoid of any of the pestilential sores and blisters that usually marked the physiognomy of the undead. Its eyes were inhuman, completely black, like a dyitzu’s.
Standing above them both was the whistler. Whatever the whistler was, it at least seemed human, and was wearing a hooded black robe. White hands, delicate and slender like a piano player’s, pulled back the hood.
He was alive.
“Healed enough, do you think?” the robed figure asked.
His voice was musical. Soft, like a singer’s.
The corpse’s head swiveled so that its black eyes might regard Kyle’s legs.
“Yes. He will stand,” the corpse said.
Kyle struggled, trying desperately to pull himself up into a sitting position. His limbs were slow to respond.
Am I drugged?
“Good,” the robed figure said. “Then let’s get to work.”
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing long, slim white arms. They were almost feminine.
The corpse stood and left the room. Kyle had never seen a dead man move so normally.
The robed figure knelt beside him. He produced a handful of white powder from his robe. Kyle watched the slender hand wave over him, and like a snow of saw dust, the powder drifted down upon him.
Kyle’s skin tingled at the touch of the substance. “What are you doing to me?”
His words were slow and slurred.
The man’s pale face broke into a smile. His teeth were perfect and bright white, even in the dim room. “Maab doesn’t like God, did you know that?”
Kyle tried to shake his head.
“But in Him, I find . . . inspiration. What is your name?”
“Kyle.”
“A good name for a wight, if ever I’ve heard one.”
Kyle’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. “What’s a wight?” The words, like before, were malformed. Still, they were clear enough that Kyle thought this man must have understood them.
“Oh, it’s an old word. Think nothing of it. When English was still young, wight meant creature, or
person. Think of it as if I had said ‘it is a fine name for a chap.’”
Kyle nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Nephysis. Have you ever heard about Ezekiel, Kyle?”
Kyle didn’t have enough energy to keep his head up, so he let it rest against the stone. He shook it, feeling the hair on the back of his head being pushed up into his skull from the rock below. “No.”
“You haven’t?” the voice sounded surprised, or perhaps it was mocking surprise. “Not a religious man then?”
“I am,” Kyle managed.
One of those slender hands went back into the robe and came out with some red powder. It too rained down upon him.
“You are?” the voice asked. “Then certainly you have heard of the prophet Ezekiel. Or if you haven’t, you’ve heard his song. Have you heard his song?”
“No.” Kyle’s voice sounded disembodied. It was dry and foreign, and he felt as if someone else had been speaking.
“Of course you’ve heard it!” the smooth voice said. “You probably just don’t know it’s Ezekiel’s song. Here, let me help remind you.” The slender hand brought out more red powder, letting it fill the air. Kyle could not help but breathe some of it in.
The whistle returned, followed by some humming. The tune was certainly familiar. Kyle could have sworn he’d heard it before.
“No? Don’t recognize it?” the voice asked. “Then maybe the words will bring it back to you.”
The slender hand touched Kyle’s injured leg at the ankle. He was surprised that there was no pain. The touch was firm, but in place of mind-stopping agony, all he could feel was a gentle tingling.
The rhythm of a thumb and forefinger snapping came to him. It was slow, as even as a metronome. Kyle could not move his legs, but he felt like dancing. Like dancing to the song of an all black, female choir.
An even voice, pure as a bell, fell upon him. “Ezekiel cried, ‘Dem dry bones!’ Ezekiel cried, ‘Dem dry bones!’"
More dust descended upon him. He felt the hand moving higher up his leg. Still, no pain, only tingling. The music of the man’s voice filled him with passion. He could feel himself grinning.
“Ezekiel cried, ‘Dem dry bones!’”
The song sounded so familiar. He knew he’d heard it before. He just knew he had. The slender hand removed a silver dagger from the black robe. The dagger was held high, poised over him. It was distracting, so Kyle put it out of his mind.
The song was so familiar. If he could just remember what the next words were. It was a children’s song, yes, but like so many things he’d experienced while young, it had held a deeper meaning than he’d known at the time.
“Oh, hear the word of the Lord.”
The music was in him now. Kyle felt himself moving to it. His body didn’t, because it was so far away, but he was. Kyle could see that body in the distance—miles and miles behind him.
“The foot bone connected to the leg bone.”
That was the song! Now Kyle remembered it. He’d been taught it in elementary school once, except they’d taken out foot and leg bone and replaced them with the real names for bones. The names weren’t the important part, though, Kyle knew that. The important part of this song wasn’t something they’d been trying to teach him in elementary school. They were trying to teach him about anatomy. They’d taught him the other thing, too, but that was an accident.
“The leg bone connected to the knee bone.”
The silver dagger sliced downward, swooping like a dove, touching a distant stomach. It gently slid through the abdomen, separating it. As before with the hand on his leg, there was no pain, just a pleasant tingling. The noise of the body’s gushing blood complimented the music.
“The knee bone connected to the thigh bone.”
The song was about Ezekiel, a prophet. And he was supposed to have done something, or foreseen something. That was what was important about the song. That was what he was listening for.
“The thigh bone connected to the back bone.”
The slender hands pushed into the stomach. They came out with intestines. Slowly, the knife moved into the wound in the belly. The arm, white and covered with red blood, began sawing.
“The back bone connected to the neck bone.”
The song welled up within in him, nearing some sort of crescendo. He knew there was a lesson in the words, if only he could just remember them. He knew the climax would bring him an epiphany. An epiphany that would give meaning to his life. Something that he should have always remembered. Something that, if he had just known it before, would have been the one little extra piece of information he needed to turn the tide of the mediocrity of his life towards a new direction of greatness. It would have made him strong enough to thrive in the face of his tribulations. It would have emboldened him. But it wasn’t too late. The lesson would save him now, as soon as he heard it.
“The neck bone connected to the head bone.”
It was almost there. He was so close. Just a couple more lines. The hands continued pulling guts up and out of that distant body. They were landing in a heap nearby.
“Oh, hear the word of the Lord!”
The music raised his spirits. He knew what the words would be. The very next line held his salvation. He knew the lesson was coming! Things would be different now. The voice grew in volume and shouted out his epiphany.
“Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun'!”
Of course! Those bones were going to walk around. They were! Ezekiel had foreseen it. The dead bodies would rise and take up arms against their enemies. Kyle’s body was alive with the music. It was so many miles away, but the music was loud enough now that even that distant pile of flesh and bones could hear it.
“Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun'!”
His body sat up. He was surprised by its strength. It was as if the wounds on his legs had healed. There was no pain anymore. None at all.
“Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun'!”
He stood on solid legs, blood dripping out of the wound in his belly. The cut tingled as the wet, liquid parts of himself dribbled away. He felt lighter. He felt complete.
“Oh, hear the word of the Lord.”
But his body was dead.
The pain came back in a rush. He was still standing, but the wound in his stomach made him want to double over. Only he couldn’t. All he could do was suffer. The nerves of his body unified themselves, shouting out to him their agony, but he couldn’t respond. His legs, flayed as they were, were lightning rods of misery, shooting their torment up into his consciousness.
“This way,” the robed figure said.
Kyle followed, his legs obedient to the man’s commands. He moved smoothly, not like a normal corpse, but with even, balanced steps. His master led him out of the room and down a long hallway. There he saw the line of corpses. The stone faced one was waiting for him.
“This is your brother Buen,” Nephysis said. “You will follow him.”
Kyle did as he was told.
“Ezekiel cried, ‘Dem dry bones!’”
If you love an earthen vessel, say it is an earthen vessel which you love; for when it has been broken, you will not be disturbed. If you are kissing your child or wife, say that it is a human being whom you are kissing, for when the wife or child dies, you will not be disturbed.
—Epictetus
Human misery finds measure in the currency of bad ideas.
—Endymion
From Gehennic Law: The Peer and the Slave
When Elohim had finished making the Earth he placed upon it two people, Adam and Lilith, who he fashioned out of clay and breathed life into. He made them equal in strength and character and set them amidst the garden of Eden.
It came to pass that Adam stumbled upon Lilith and desired to know her.
“Lay down for me,” he ordered.
But Lilith refused saying, “We are equal in all things. It is not right that you order me about. If you want to sleep with me, it must be a
s peers, not as a master and a slave.”
Angry, Adam ran to Elohim and told him of Lilith’s refusal to submit to him. Elohim was angry, and came to Lilith ordering she submit to Adam.
“Why?” she asked. “Why should I be Adam’s property?”
Elohim replied, “Because not being so makes him unhappy.”
“But being a slave makes me unhappy.”
And Elohim sayeth, “I do not care.”
But even so, Lilith would not submit and Elohim exiled her from Eden. Elohim then made another companion for Adam out of his own rib, one that was weaker in character and in strength, and he named this girl Eve.
It is said that after Adam and Eve were exiled from Eden, that one of their children met Lilith and mated with her. Thus Lilith’s blood was mixed in with all of humanity’s.
Know then that there is a time in every little girl’s life when she must make a decision as to which woman, Lilith or Eve, she has descended from.
“You cannot go that way, Carlisle,” the voice of Mephistopheles washed over and through him.
Carlisle looked to Simeon, expecting him to countermand the devil. Simeon’s bearded face, however, was a mystery.
“But why?” Carlisle asked. “I can feel Benson. He’s so close.”
“This part of Hell is closed to us,” Mephistopheles answered. “It is ruled by the followers of the Infidel. They have created creatures so powerful in this realm that even I dare not face them without preparation.”
Carlisle stopped, letting the blood flow down the back of his leg for a moment. As always, it began to fill up his boot. “How could men create something that could strike at you?”
“It is will that affects this Hell,” Mephistopheles answered, “and I have the will of nearly a thousand men. But the Infidel, when he was here, caught a devil called Legion. Legion would swallow the souls of humans and use their will to bolster its own. We think the Infidel broke it down, or perhaps some of his men took Legion over from the inside. They used Legion’s secret to bind many thousands of their souls together, and they use that focused will to make this portion of Sheol stable. Worse, they learned to divide Legion into separate entities in order to spread their control. Inside that realm they have many cities, and the men who live there do so without any fear of devils.”
Knight of Gehenna (Hellsong Book 2) Page 25