The Temple of Arrival

by Matthew Olney

  Erin looked at the fort for a few moments before pointing to something.

  “There’s our way in,” she said with a smirk. “Yeah, that’ll work nicely.”

  “What are you looking at?” Marcian asked. To him, the place looked impenetrable without a serious cannon bombardment.

  “The railway leads into a tunnel underneath the fort. That’s how it gets resupplied. We captured one of the trains and we’ve plenty of stolen Imperium uniforms. I propose we act our way inside. We’ve cut their communications and any messenger pigeons we shoot from the sky, how are they to know that we’re not just a lucky supply run that made it through our lines?”

  Marcian rubbed his chin. It was a bold strategy, but then again, he expected no less from the wily Erin.

  “I like it. Let’s do it.”

  *

  The Imperium uniform itched in all the wrong places. Marcian, Lizella and fifty other Liberators were all attired in the uniforms they’d stolen during their raids. Lizella had her hair tied up in a top knot that was hidden by the helmet she wore. She fingered her musket nervously. When Marcian had told her of their plan she’d naturally been wary, now that they were hiding in the carriage of a stolen train, she felt terrified. All it would take was one Imperium officer to see through their ploy and they’d all be blown to atoms. The carriage shook as the train crossed the bridge over the valley of Desta. Marcian flashed her one of his smiles and her nerves settled. He was always so calm even when literally walking into danger. The click-clack of the train felt like a ticking clock counting down to zero. With a whoosh of steam and a toot from the whistle, the train slowed to a crawl and the carriage went dark. They had entered the tunnel under the fort. With a final shudder, the train came to a stop. It was now up to Erin.

  *

  Erin stood in the locomotive her hands on her hips and waited. Heavy iron doors creaked open and out poured a dozen grim faced Imperium soldiers. At their head was a pompous looking man in the attire of a commander. His pristine white uniform almost shining in the mid-morning light.

  “Well, you are a sight for sore eyes. How’d you manage to get past those bloody rebels? Ah, it doesn’t matter I’m just glad you’re here, supplies are getting a little thin,” the commander said jovially.

  Erin smiled and saluted.

  “We just got lucky, I guess. Those Liberators aren’t all that. If you’d come with me sir you can inspect the supplies,” she said, doing her best impression of a stuffy Imperium officer.

  “Lead the way captain,” the commander said.

  Erin stepped down from the engine and walked to the side of the first carriage. She banged on the metal doors and all hell broke loose. The doors of the three carriages slid open simultaneously to reveal the Liberators hiding within. With a shout, Marcian gave the order to fire. Fifty muskets fired at once gunning down the Imperium troops in a hail of musket balls. The commander’s jaw dropped in shock and gun smoke filled the room. Erin placed her pistol to the back of his head.

  “Now, commander you’re coming with me,” she growled in his ear. The Liberators quickly disembarked the train and set about reloading their weapons. Alarm bells rang above, but Erin felt no fear. Instead, she pushed the commander towards the stairs and up towards the fort’s main courtyard. Once at the top of the stairs the Liberators formed up behind her. Marcian took the lead and peeked around the doorway. As expected, the fort’s garrison was taking up positions on the walls. Most aimed their guns outward towards the surrounding countryside, unaware that the enemy was already within the walls. Marcian stepped through the doorway and darted into cover, the other Liberator’s doing likewise.

  Erin leant in close to the commander’s ear and walked into the courtyard, her pistol now digging into the man’s back.

  “Tell your men to throw down their weapons,” she snarled.

  The petrified commander whimpered and nodded.

  Shouts of alarm sounded as the Imperium troops spotted the intruders and the precarious situation their commander found himself in.

  “Men! Drop your weapons,” the Commander said. He was close to tears.

  The soldiers exchanged looks with each other, unsure of what to do.

  “I order you to drop your weapons!”

  “Do as he says lads or else every one of you will die here this day,” Marcian shouted.

  Tension filled the air as the two sets of soldiers faced one another. Finally, it was the Imperium troops that opted for life over death. Reluctantly they dropped their weapons to the floor. Quickly, the Liberators moved in and rounded them up until the fort’s personnel were all gathered in the courtyard. Desta was theirs.

  *

  Signs of the crimes committed by the Imperium were clear to see. In a separate part of the fort, hidden behind an inner wall was a furnace room. The clothes and effects of hundreds of murdered people were piled high on tables divided by their value. Lizella walked through the room in silence. She stopped at one table which was covered in neatly folded clothing. They weren’t the rags of slaves but the finery of the noble class. Expensive jewellery lay next to the clothing. She picked up a golden locket and opened it. Looking back at her was the image of a young girl no older than herself. Tears formed in her eyes.

  “So, the rumours appear to be true,” said Marcian from behind her. He stepped close and pulled her into a hug. “Not even the nobility is safe from the Supreme anymore.”

  Lizella looked at him in confusion.

  “Since Asta, I’ve been receiving reports from across the Imperium that people of all classes have been disappearing. Slaves and slave owners alike have been taken by the Venerable Chamber. Do you remember when we snuck into Asta via the sea?”

  Lizella nodded. How could she ever forget? The screams and pleas for help from within the ships had haunted her ever since.

  “My spies have told me that the number of those black ships sailing down the Dividing Sea has tripled in the last month. Large numbers of people are being taken south. I had thought they were being taken to the capital, but my agents there tell me that’s not the case. The ships stop there to resupply, but then carry on southward.”

  Lizella stepped back her mind racing. She recalled the maps she’d studied of the Imperium. There was nothing south of the capital, not via sea at any rate. Except for- her eyes widened.

  “Aeranyth is south of Imperias. They’re being taken there, they must be,” she said.

  The door to the furnace room banged open and Erin stepped into the room. The expression on her face made Lizella’s heart sink.

  “You two had better come and see this,” she said.

  *

  Erin led them up a flight of stairs and into what had been the fort’s command centre. Documents were strewn across the floor and the smell of burnt papers filled the air. She led Marcian and Lizella through some offices that were being turned over by Liberators and into a narrow corridor. A room was at its end and etched onto its surface was the symbol of the Venerable Chamber.

  “As soon as they heard the commotion in the courtyard some of our Imperium friends tried to destroy many of these documents. From what we’ve seen most of them are manifests and troop movements. Valuable intelligence for sure but-’ she said opening the door, ‘we also found him.”

  The corpse of a man dressed in the black robes of a Venerable Chamber Seeker lay on the floor, a pistol held tightly in its lifeless hand.

  Marcian crouched in front of the dead man and looked at Erin in confusion.

  “A Venerable Chamber Seeker here?”

  “That’s not the weirdest part. We found this on him, looks like he tried to burn it,” Erin answered handing him a small blackened book. He took it and thumbed through the damaged pages. There was text scrawled onto the paper, but in a language he didn’t recognise.

  “From what little I know of cryptology I’d say it’s written in code,” Erin said.

  Marcian stood and tapped the book in his palm.

  “Something
weird is going on. I feel it in my guts. Perhaps the fort commander can provide some answers as to what this Seeker was doing here.”

  “I’ll get him ready for interrogation,” Erin said before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

  The Imperium soldiers were under guard as Marcian and Lizella made their way through the fort. He’d have to decide what to do with them. He could ill afford to let them report to the Imperium and he couldn’t keep them, prisoner, indefinitely, they didn’t have the food or resources. He shook dark thoughts from his mind and focused on the task at hand. They entered a small outbuilding that had been used to store supplies and which was now being used as a makeshift prison for the fort’s officers.

  *

  The commander Erin had taken hostage earlier was tied to a chair and guarded by two grim faced Liberators. The man looked up as Marcian and Lizella entered the room.

  “What’s your name soldier?” Marcian asked.

  “I-I am commander Rint of the Imperium second army.”

  “So, commander Rint, tell us about what you and your men have been doing here. We freed some prisoners recently who claim that they and others like them were being sent here. I want to know why and you’re going to tell me about the owner of this,” Marcian said pulling the Seeker’s book from his pocket.

  At seeing it the commander paled.

  “Look, I didn’t know what they were going to do. I’m just a soldier. I’m given orders and I obey them. I-”

  Marcian glanced at Lizella in surprise. The man was singing like a canary.

  “What are you talking about?” Lizella said a hint of threat in her tone.

  “I am a soldier. We all are. None of us signed up for what they had us doing. Half-starved men, women and children were sent here by the trainload. Sometimes a dozen per day. Hundreds of people. You must believe me when I say it wasn’t me or my men who killed them. It was the Venerable Chamber. All of it. Their operatives; those who did the killing, they departed a few days ago. Please believe me,” Rint pleaded.

  “Why were prisoners being sent here?”

  “The Seeker said that they needed a safe place to dispose of them. Somewhere far from prying eyes. Even they knew support for the Supreme would buckle if the people learnt the truth.”

  “What truth?” Marcian shouted. A feeling of dread was working its way into his heart.

  “Traitors have to be dealt with. Your attack on Asta, Hestra and other places. Anyone who was suspected of siding with you Liberators was rounded up, sent here and executed. That was what they told us-but there were others-”

  “What others?” Lizella asked.

  “There were trains filled of people that were sick. All pale and weak. Our physicians didn’t have a clue what was wrong with them, but the Venerable Chamber’s men told us that they were infectious, that they needed to be purged. I tried to find out from where those poor souls came from, but the Seekers told us nothing and even threatened me with execution if I kept on asking. One night, I went down to the holding pens, my men were uncomfortable with the whole situation, as was I. I spoke to one of the ‘sick’ prisoners. She said that they had been taken from their homes in Fork, put onto ships and taken to a land of death. She said-”

  Lizella leant across the table and grabbed the commander by the shoulders.

  “Did you just say Fork? Where are the people from Fork?” she demanded. Her arms trembling.

  “Dead. Their bodies burned in the furnaces. For what it’s worth I am sorry.”

  Lizella staggered backwards as though struck in the stomach. An agonised sob escaped her lips at the commander’s words. She sank to her knees and wept. Marcian knelt with her and held her closely. He looked at the bound Rint.

  “The prisoner you spoke to. What did she say?” he asked the commander softly.

  “She said just one more word before she passed. Aeranyth.”

  *

  Marcian had been interrogating the commander for hours. Erin had taken Lizella out of the room. Devastation was evident on her face. From the discussions he realised one dreadful thing; the Supreme didn’t care about her people one bit. It was as his spies had suspected. Countless slaves and prisoners were being taken south to the land of Aeranyth. For what reason he couldn’t fathom. The place was a desolate ruin, a place where no life could survive. Three centuries ago the Supreme in her rage had annihilated the once mighty kingdom until it was a land of ash and death.

  Rint, despite being an Imperium commander, was a good man. He cared about the men under his command and it was clear that he was as horrified by what the Venerable Chamber had done as he was himself. Marcian rubbed his tired eyes and placed the Seeker’s book onto the table before Rint.

  “I take it that this book is written in some sort of Imperium code?” he asked tiredly.

  Rint nodded as he looked at the pages.

  “It is. I can read it.”

  Marcian gestured to one of the guards to untie Rint’s hands and slid the book to him.

  “If you tell me what it says with no attempts at lying, I will release you and your men.”

  Rint rubbed his wrists as his bonds were cut and regarded Marcian for a moment.

  “You’ll really just let us go?”

  Marcian nodded.

  “Well, I can’t go back to the Imperium even if I wanted to. Losing a fort will no doubt see me executed for failure of duty. Perhaps I’ll seek out a new life in the mountains. I know some of the lads are just as disgusted with the Imperium as I am, maybe they’ll join me. Or, perhaps they’ll join you in order to redeem themselves?” he muttered.

  Marcian tapped the book.

  “Read the book and then think on your next steps. Tell me if it mentions the village of Fork.”

  Rint picked up the book and flipped through the pages. After an hour of slow deciphering, he paused.

  “Most of it is about intelligence reports on suspected enemies of the state, Gifted in hiding- wait; there’s mention of Fork in here. Let me see, the population was shipped south to the capital and then onto- well, that can’t be right. It says onto Aeranyth for something called the ‘Ritual’ along with thousands of others. Those that were rejected for this Ritual were then shipped back north and sent here to be disposed of. Our Seeker friend appears to have overseen this process. Aeranyth is just an empty wasteland how could they-” the commander said in confusion.

  Marcian paced the room at the new information.

  “Rejected? What does that mean? Does it say how many people from Fork were sent to Aeranyth and how many sent back?”

  Rint flipped through the book again. The Seeker had been thorough in his record keeping. The monster had recorded everything.

  “Yes. It says sixty-three were sent and twenty were rejected. Looking at the ages of those rejected it seems that the elderly and the very young were sent back.”

  Marcian stopped pacing. Only twenty out of sixty-three had been sent to Desta to die, which meant! He ran out of the room and through the fort.

  “Where’s Lizella?” he asked one of his men. The Liberator pointed to the south wall. Shouting his thanks, Marcian ran on. He bounded up a flight of steps and onto the walls where he found Lizella. She was staring out at the forest below; her eyes were red from tears.

  He approached slowly unable to hide the happiness he felt.

  “Lizella. Come with me. There’s a good chance your parents are still alive.”

  *

  Lizella couldn’t stop smiling. Despite the horror of all they had learnt about the Imperium the knowledge that her parents had not been sent to Desta to die filled her with relief. After Marcian’s interrogation of Commander Rint, he had kept his word and allowed the fort’s garrison to leave. Knowing that they would all likely face a firing squad for their failure to keep the fort out of the Liberators hands they had chosen to take their chances in the mountains to the north. To Marcian and Erin’s surprise, some had chosen to throw in their lot with the Liberators. Sickened by what th
ey had been ordered to do they begged to be given the chance to atone by fighting for freedom. Marcian had offered Rint a position in the Liberators too, but the man had refused. He’d had enough of killing.

  Now, Lizella and Erin were rifling through every scrap of intelligence they could get their hands on. The surprise of their attack had meant that the garrison hadn’t been able to destroy any sensitive documents. The Venerable Chamber had proven to be highly efficient in the way in which it dealt with its victims. The names of every person that had been executed had been recorded in ledgers. Lizella had quickly found one containing information on Fork and was relieved to see that both her and Elian’s parents were not in it.

  “Those monsters,” Erin shouted as she slammed a book down onto the table. “Tens of thousands of people captured every year to hit the Supreme’s ‘quotas. We all thought it was so that the Imperium could hit production targets, how wrong we were.”

  Lizella reached across the table and squeezed Erin’s hand.

  “We know the truth now. We will put an end to it. Marcian’s plan to spread the word across the Imperium is sure to encourage more people to revolt against the Supreme. The truth will be the Supreme’s downfall.”

  Erin sighed and nodded.

  “One thing is bothering me. This Ritual, if the Supreme is as powerful as we know her to be then what is she getting from it?”

  Lizella shook her head, how were they to comprehend the actions of the Empowered Ones and Gifted? Elian and his abilities were a mystery to her, and they had grown up together. The Supreme was something else entirely.

  “It must be important to her, which makes me nervous. Think about it, if the stories about her are true she could crush us without breaking a sweat. Why hasn’t she? Why hasn’t she destroyed the Arikar? Instead, she’s sat back and watched as the Imperium and Arikar wage war on each other.”