by Scott Hale
Felix kept moving; his destination was the tower nearest high command. More pieces of spider webs slipped and slithered through camp, but most didn’t pay them any attention, and neither did he. The encampment was a massive maze he had no interest in getting lost in.
“Over here, your Holiness,” a woman called out to Felix.
Felix turned, slipped between several tents. The second guard dispersed back to their duties. The ground sloped upward to the base of the tower; there, Commander Millicent waited, a couple of apple cores at her feet. She was in full plate armor, with the helm in her arms, against her side. Like Justine’s armor, Millicent’s didn’t appear to be made out of any kind of metal; in a way, it almost looked like pearl. Millicent was a large woman, but even so, she wore the armor as if it weighed nothing at all; as if, like with Justine’s armor, it was now a part of her.
Felix stomped up the hill and took out his contrition knife. Commander Millicent always gave him a compliment when he looked prepared, and Felix was one for compliments.
“Your Holiness.” Millicent bowed; lice fell from her buzzed hair. “Do you plan on bleeding any sins today with that knife?”
“Put me in the front line,” Felix joked awkwardly.
Millicent smiled her gap-toothed smile. “The Mother Abbess requested that I show you what we’re up against. After that, we will move at your command.”
Felix nodded, put the knife away. “Take me to the top.”
He had climbed the tower before, that first night he and Justine and their huge armed-guard had ridden into the outskirts of the Divide. At that point, it had been dark, and though there were torches and fires everywhere, it didn’t really give him a great sense of the encampment or the Divide itself. But now it was day, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and nothing could be hidden or obscured from his or heaven’s eye.
Heading up the tower’s winding ramp, Felix saw in quick succession the three things he would have to make a decision on.
First came the camp—that half-mile, labyrinthine sprawl of tents, stalls, and wagons; muddy pits and unfinished additions; and a constant stream of men and women, armed and armored, waiting for god to speak and give them a reason to make bloody their hands.
Then came the Divide—that three-mile-wide, sparkling sliver of… The tendons in Felix’s neck went taut. He stepped back, bumping into Millicent. Reluctantly, as if she might lose her hands if she touched him, she stopped him and stood him up straight.
The Divide hadn’t been much the night he rode in; just a sparkling sliver of black water, like a piece of obsidian pricking the side of the sky. Now, the Divide was more; it was everything he had feared and fought against on a daily basis, in his tent, in his dreams. The Divide wasn’t black or blue, but spider web white. From the eastern shore to the edge of the western bank, innumerable webs had been spun across the river, creating crystalline bridges, glistening haunts, and nightmarish bulwarks. In between the dense lattices, boats and ships protruded, like wooden glaciers that had been caught in this winter of webs. He couldn’t see any Arachne from where he stood, but he knew they were there. The countless threads shivered constantly, and occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of something—something jittery, and obscene.
Maybe it was his imagination, or maybe it was because he was about to crap his pants, but Felix swore he could hear the creatures, too; their clicking whispers, their clucking laughs. The Conscription had halted on the eastern banks because he ordered it. And now they had no choice but to turn back or go forward. The gates of heaven were different for everyone. Today, the gates of heaven were cobwebbed; and when the souls of the dead finally made it through, what would they do when they realized there was nothing there to greet them but darkness and Death?
Felix took his first breath in a long time and grabbed Millicent’s forearm. I’m the Holy Child. I’m the Holy Child. Justine had told him once that if something was said enough, it could become true. I’m the Holy Child. I’m the Holy Child. He cast his gaze toward Millicent, but Millicent’s rigid face looked back, neither disturbed nor concerned; she only wanted orders. Sympathy wasn’t something anyone was supposed to have for one of god’s chosen. They were above such things. Sympathy would’ve been an insult, like pointing out a flaw in perfection.
“Your Holiness?”
I’m the Holy Child. I’m the Holy Child. Felix forced himself to look at the Divide once more. How could something so dangerous be so beautiful? The countless silk strands gleamed and hummed and shed soft wisps like feathers into the air. But he knew if he sent the soldiers into that lovely hell, their flesh would burn and their lungs would seize, and the Arachne would spin them into sacs, where their bodies would be liquefied and their lives reduced to nothing more than snacks for beasts that should not be.
“We will have to fight them on our side of the river,” Millicent said. “We cannot traverse the webs without heavy casualties.”
If Felix listened closely enough, he could hear the god that didn’t exist whispering in his ear. He knew Penance’s god wasn’t real; had probably known it even before Justine broke the news. But here god was again, and it said: You can do this. She is always testing you. Be what she does not expect.
Millicent went on. “There is a dense overgrowth of vermillion veins on the western bank. We have heard enough stories of the veins being manipulated into rudimentary attacks. The fight will be here.”
She pointed ahead, where the encampment ended and the Divide began; it was a mile-wide stretch of dirt and driftwood, sand and shore. There were a few soldiers out there now, clearing the strands that had taken hold. They moved cautiously, their attention never leaving the gigantic web that still shivered not far from where they stood.
“King Edgar is mocking our reluctance to engage in combat.” Millicent’s armor made a squelching sound when she shifted, as if there was fluid in between each piece and plate. “He could have sent the Arachne to attack from another angle.”
Felix cleared his throat and said, “Advise me, Commander.”
“The Arachne are vicious. This marks the first time they have been out of the Nameless Forest since the Trauma. They are also known to be prideful. They are said to look at their webs the same way we look at holy relics and rarities from the Old World.”
“We’re going to have to tear this web down,” Felix said. “Why build it in the middle of the battlefield?”
“To show off, and to attack with furious righteousness.”
Felix squinted; it was difficult to tell if it was mist or web, but the western bank was shrouded in a ghostly veil. He could make out the vermillion veins, but it was the shapes that teemed behind them to which he drew his attention; the dark, brooding shapes that seemed to be standing there, much like the conscripted below, waiting for orders and the moment in which they would put blood in their mouths. There were thousands of them. God, there were thousands of them; and if they didn’t kill every last one of them here, then it would only be a matter of time until they turned on the Heartland and killed everyone there.
“King Edgar wants them to die,” Felix said.
Millicent hummed. “You see it, too?”
“They could have overtaken us from the rear. The Nameless Forest is behind us. I bet you there’s… so many more Arachne still in the Forest. He’s thinning their numbers.”
“As long as they kill enough of our people, I do not think King Edgar will mind all that much if his spider army here is depleted.” Millicent smiled and bowed again. “We are ready, Your Holiness. What does god say?”
Like a dog salivating at the sight of its meal, the gears in Felix’s brain immediately went to work, pounding out phrase after phrase. What does god say? He used to think it was divine inspiration, but now he knew it was mostly just the Mother Abbess’ subtle suggestions. But here he was, alone, all the right words falling into the right places; no one and nothing to stop him but himself.
He was the Holy Child, and now he had to be more. To prov
e everyone, including himself, wrong.
“They are aiding and abetting the Heretic of our time,” Felix said, voice deep, like how it might sound when he was twenty or thirty. “They have built false idols to mock our beliefs. There is nothing god can do for them in life, so deep is their betrayal. Let us show them to death, where even the most wretched such as those before us can find forgiveness and salvation.”
Felix’s delivery had been so cheesy, Commander Millicent couldn’t help but cover her face. “We will burn the Divide, then?”
“Yes,” Felix said, still acting. “They’re going to have to get used to hellfire, anyways.”
Felix rushed back into his tent and collapsed upon his bed. Quickly, he turned over, hiked up his robes, and put the contrition knife to his thigh. There were all kinds of cuts there, from the Horror of the Lake and the Horror that that was Samuel Turov. Now, he had to make another. The contrition knife was for bleeding out sins, and with a few stupid sentences, he had just murdered thousands.
The tent flap flipped back and Justine came in. Immediately, the smell of lilac wafted over him. In a frenzy, he put the knife under his blankets and dropped his robe. Whether or not she had seen what he was about to do, she didn’t say. Instead, she went to the side of his bed, held out her hands, and helped him to his feet.
“Commander Millicent informed me of our decision.”
“I—”
“Any decision we make alone, we make together.” Justine’s hair touched his cheeks, tickling them. “The soldiers will begin assaulting the Divide in five hours.”
Felix dropped Justine’s hands. He needed to learn how to stand on his own.
“It’s soon, I know,” she said, “but it’s necessary. Against such a threat, Felix, we must be proactive.”
“Who is leading the spider army?” Felix asked.
“Lotus, King Edgar’s warden of the Nameless Forest. I don’t expect we will see her. She means too much to him.” The White Worm of the Earth fingered the silver, white-gemmed necklace around her neck. “I have something for you. My most precious gift. Walk with me, Felix, and I will share it with you.”
They emerged from the tent, the forty Holy Children quick to swarm around Justine and Felix. The Mother Abbess whispered something in a language he couldn’t understand, and all at once, the statues dispersed back to their posts around high command.
“I know you feel bad about making the decision to attack.”
Justine led them out of high command. Like ants at a picnic, the soldiers outside the palisade quickly formed a guard around her and Felix. So eager to please the Mother Abbess and the Holy Child, they didn’t realize at first that Justine was shooing them off. And when they did, the fifty or so soldiers marched back to their tents and duties, disappointed and defeated.
Past the tower and the second palisade of what Felix’s mind kept calling low command (high, low; whatever), he and Justine were now on the edge of the encampment proper. To ride through it at night or to see it from the tower was one thing, but to be in the thick of it was something else entirely. Penance had been here for weeks, and already they had made their place on the Divide something that, with a little redecorating, could have easily passed for a brand-new city entirely. People, food, animals; any kind of vehicle, and every kind of trade; there weren’t just tents, but full-blown homes—cabins and decent looking shacks. The Lillians and their followers had been known to settle everywhere they went—always making homes in the most inhospitable places; after so many years later, it seemed their descendants hadn’t lost that desperate trait.
“Whether they die here fighting, or at home cowering,” Justine said, nodding at every dirty face that turned towards her, “they’re going to die fighting Eldrus. It’s better they should go on their own terms.”
Felix wished he had the contrition knife, or even the Holy Children, because the soldiers around them were starting to look suspicious. He became aware of how muddy the ground was, and how hard it would be to run away. He started to wonder if their distant eyes had dimmed because they were thinking about hurting him. They were surrounded by people who loved them, sure, but did they all really love them? Justine had said it herself: there was no such thing as universal love. Some just hate for the sake of it.
“We don’t need guards,” Justine said, keeping on, driving them through the encampment, bringing them closer and closer to the Divide. “Only each other. You are the Word of god. I am god’s sword and shield.”
Felix left a gap between him and Justine. “Where’re we going?”
“To the stage,” she said with dramatic flair.
Felix smiled, waved; waved and smiled. The soldiers were going down to their knees; their praise was catching like cold; their faith intensely contagious. They had to weave through the encampment, because their followers were as rocks in their path—rigid and unmovable. Felix felt some tension leave his body. No one wanted to hurt him here, and those who did would be committing suicide if they tried.
“When we’re finished with Eldrus, people will be this way everywhere,” Justine said. “I was wrong to isolate the Holy Order in Penance all these years. It made us strong, but it turned our religion into a matter of convenience. There was nothing better to believe, and there was no reason to stop believing. When we’re finished, we will return to the Heartland, to Cathedra, and be where we should have always been.”
Felix didn’t say anything, but what was there he could say? The Mother Abbess had a very clear plan of what she wanted for the Holy Order, and he agreed with every step of it. The conscripted prostrated around them were happy, fulfilled; they believed in god so deeply they would die for it. But at the same time, he could taste the sin in the air, smell it on their breaths. The Exemplars always told Felix that isolation had made the Holy Order humble, and that the Lillians’ quest for expansion was what had made them so unbearably entitled.
The Holy Child stopped. Slowly, he spun in place, surveying those who had fallen to the ground, most of whom would need some help getting up, because of how heavy their gear was. Those who hadn’t dropped to their knees quickly did so when his eyes met theirs. A lot of these men and women were about to die, and a lot of them were here for the glory of conquest and the sin of excess. King Edgar had sent the Arachne here to fight and to thin their numbers, so that they could be more easily controlled. And Justine… Justine had deliberately called forth and conscripted the garbage of the Holy Land. Was she intending to do the same?
Justine touched Felix’s shoulder and pointed ahead to a rounded hill where a platform had been built. There wasn’t much to it but six pillars, one podium, and a large banner bearing the icon of the Holy Order of Penance.
“A stage,” Felix said, shaking his head, finally having gotten her meaning. “You want me to give a speech.”
“Just like in Pyra.”
Felix grabbed the sealing stone around his neck.
Justine noticed, and her cheek quivered. She still had a hole in her chest from where she had once stored the sealing stone. It would never heal, and it would always hurt.
Felix cringed as he asked, “You said you… had a gift?”
Justine continued on, and Felix followed after. Their path was clear to the stage, and looking back, Felix saw that already hundreds of soldiers were gathering. The Holy Child was to give a speech, either now or in the next few hours; no one here was going to miss a word of it.
At the top of the hill, at the edge of the stage, the encampment below them, the Divide before them—webbed and writhing—Justine turned to Felix and told him this: “Every Worm of the Earth is capable of granting a boon. We do not grant a boon lightly, as it will often reveal us for what we are. Those who identify us as Worms will then destroy us, or enslave us. Either way, we will sleep, and many, many will die. I am different. You are, too. I trust you. I have given you my undoing—” she nodded at the sealing stone, “—and now I want to give you my power.”
Felix made sure they were a
lone. With thousands of eyes upon them from the encampment below, he felt as if he were naked before the world, with every secret he had ever held on display. If anyone had heard a word of what she was saying…
“I have not forgotten your friend Vrana.”
Felix gasped, because he had. Somehow, somewhere on the journey to the Divide, he had given up on helping her. Most of the time, he thought of Audra—Audra, and the silly, stupid, love he had for her. God, where was she? Was she okay? Was Vrana okay? Thousands in his care not far from where he stood, and all he could think about were the enemies he hardly knew.
“The Cult of the Worm has spread into the Holy Land. We have lost soldiers to the Cult, too. They defected and disappeared days ago. Word is that they are headed for Angheuawl.”
Felix shook his head. “What is that?”
“Mining village in the foothills of Kistvaen. It’s not on any map, but many say the lakes are absolutely stunning there.” She sighed. “We can go to Gallows for the Skeleton, or we can go to Angheuawl. We’ll send our soldiers to whatever you do not choose. If your friend is involved with the Cult, it’s likely their base of operations is there. I keep my promises, Felix. I know that I am not human, but I am trying my best to be.”
Jaw quivering, tearing up for no good, goddamn reason, Felix whispered, “Why?”
“For you. Everything I do, you must question because of what I am. I’m glad that you do. I want to be better. I want this to work. I love you. I hope that one day, you will love me, too, and not because you’re scared of what may happen if you do not.”