Bliss

by Daniel Lawley

  “Master! What happened to you, master speak to me, if not then at least use the gift” she pressed further.

  “He won't hear you love, he took a huge knock as we were captured” another voice spoke in the darkness.

  “As you were captured or as he was captured?” She asked with barbed words, her insinuations clear for all to interpret.

  “Well, um...” the voice responded.

  “I thought so” she pushed on. “How'd you like me to get even? How about a little payback!?”

  “He was babbling like that when we found him, gods, monsters, cycles and everything between.”

  “Liar, he's not making sense, not even now. This was you!”

  “Jackson, get your woman under control will ya lad, she's upsetting already upset men, let's just give it a rest eh!” Orochi ordered, yet didn't need to. The boy was already at her side, at least he cared.

  “Armatrine,” he spoke, “there's no sense fighting, not now. There might come a time that we need every man, we need to conserve our strength.”

  “And why should I trust you, you’re one of them!” She snapped.

  “That's right, I am, but this is deeper than that you know.”

  “True enough the boy's words” came the unexpected voice of Arlandus lying in the darkness.

  “Master, you’re ok?” She questioned.

  “I'm unsure I ever was, yet here I find myself and so must make what I must of the situation, you may tend to me if it would make you feel better, yet honestly I do not need it child, fear not, I have more than myself looking out for me these days!” He finished. The wheeze had lessened from his lungs. As had the strain in his breath.

  “Put him out of his misery” jeered one voice, yet only one. Orochi imagined the embarrassment upon the man's face at his suggestion. Sometimes the company he kept had the tendency to behave in an incredibly stupid way. There was no excusing it.

  “I know of the true blasphemies my child!” Arlandus began.

  “Shhh now master, you can tell me another time, when you’re well. For now all that matters is that we escape this place in one piece” she soothed. Jak now at her side.

  “No, there is no time, you must know!” He raised his weak arm, fighting every defeated sinew within himself. “You must see things as they are!” He touched his hand to hers and in the darkness, for a moment, all was bright.

  ***

  Armatrine found herself transported. The place she was, did not seem to be, the place she had been. Before there had been blackness, now there was only fiercely burning light. It was hard on the eye, yet pleasant. Beside her stood her master, restored to former glories, of a time before she had known him.

  “Master, you are young again” she commented.

  “It is only how I remember myself to be,” he assured, “I promise you I am my physically ancient self back in the real world”. He smiled a handsome smile.

  “Where are we?” She asked, setting her astonishment aside.

  “We are, for lack of a more accurate description, in the meeting of our two intelligences, a perceived space between the two” he answered.

  “How did you... ” she began.

  “The how is not important, but the why, the why is of the strongest urgency.” He paused to clear his mind before continuing. “There have been happenings afoot that were missed, by us, by the Order, by those who should have sought to seek the balance. We were arrogant, we were foolish. More hangs now upon the precipice of disaster than any could have imagined.”

  “What are you speaking of?” She asked. An uneasy feeling settling over her.

  “Among us there has been one, who has sought to turn things in the favour of the dark goddess. She has won and we are finished.”

  “Who?” She asked.

  “The admiral, at the helm of his majesty’s naval forces is none other than brother Tenebris, brought forth from his grave to the detriment of Neta. He has sought singly to cause enough discontent and unrest to allow his mistress to ascend.”

  “… but the Three?”

  “They are one and the same, the Three and Beocantes. The fourth face.”

  “The fourth face? What blasphemy is this?” She asked.

  “The true blasphemy was in the work of the Order and the tasks undertaken to hide the truth and subdue the natural cycle, I dislike it but it is the truth my child.”

  “It can't be!”

  “It must be” he persisted. “It is the way of all things, the way of nature and we simply must accept it. There can be no subverting it.”

  “Then why tell me? Why tell anyone? We'd find out eventually” she sounded aghast.

  “Indeed you would, but would you deny an old man a chance for revenge upon those who ruined the world he loved!”

  “Revenge upon the Three? The Four or whatever we address them as?”

  “Nay child, upon the man who brought this about, we shall see the will of the Three to fruition, there is no doubt the work is already complete, yet we will ensure the sniveling dog who saw the beginning of this to his end, I assure you that Beocantes will feast upon his soul if it must be so that she shall also feast upon mine.”

  ***

  A second had passed, yet within that second it was clear that much had transpired. The darkness continued beyond their sight, its tendrils invading their perceptions.

  “Is he ok?” Asked a fellow prisoner, alarmed at the sudden silence.

  “He'll be fine now” Armatrine reported. “He's said what he needed to say, now he must rest and then he’ll be his old self again.”

  “How do you know?” He asked.

  “It is written, no more questions” she responded. It was not that she felt as if she must cut off their curiosity at the neck, her kind had always been somewhat of an enigma and curiosity was better by far than a pogrom. Especially, she thought, if Arlandus and herself were the last remaining of their kind. It was more that at the edge of her senses there came a malice, unknown and unexplained, yet she could guess as to what would happen next. As if by clockwork a sliver of light appeared in the dark, brighter than she could stand. Whatever was going to happen, it was time.

  ~ Skirmsh~

  ~ Sixth of the Crop, Song of Sorrow~

  Lose not your faith,

  For in the darkness, there is only light beyond.

  - Song of an ancient spirit

  The crack in the darkness had revealed itself to be the door hatch to the fortress gaol, like some great maw to the outer world. She had known it would come to this, from the moment they had been captured she had known this moment would come. They all had. A lump formed in her throat. The taste of fear and dread. They had been defeated and now would pay the price. History was written by the victors. They would be remembered as traitors. Their intent mattered not. She was torn between the two men she loved the most, the boy who had ended her and caused her such misery in one fell swoop, or the master who had raised her, helped her control her abilities. If it was goodbye then she had no idea of who to turn. Thankfully the decision was taken from her.

  “I'll help the master, you take one shoulder, I'll take the other.” The boy offered.

  “Jak, I can't. In your final moments…” she protested weakly. In truth she was grateful for his strength in a time she found her own to be lacking.

  “It's nothing, he gave me as much as anyone, I may as well help him meet it dignified, as anyone might wish to.” He reassured her, though she heard a tremble in his voice. His own fear was bubbling to the surface.

  “Thanks, that's a kindness the Three would shine upon” she smiled, although she was unsure he could make out the curve of her lips against the light of the hatch as his eyes adjusted from the dark.

  “Alright!” They became interrupted by the guards shuffling in. “I guess you bunch o’ bastards know what's coming to ya, may the Three have mercy and all that rubbish, personally I'd prefer if they spat on your unmarked graves but not every wish we have in life can be fulfilled. Well I gues
s you all know that already!” He laughed, a cackle like an excited hyena. His cruelty seemed to perturb even the rest of his squad.

  “Shut it Harry!” Ordered another. “Ain't right to taunt the dead” he reminded the excitable privateer.

  “Yes sir!” The guard stopped and stayed quiet as the men about him moved.

  “Ok, let's get this over with” continued the one who'd disciplined the cruel guard. “Starting with you, lets bind your wrists and ankles, there's no room for mistakes tonight, not on the Bliss. His words struck Armatrine as those of a stage director in one of the capital’s major theatres. Briefing his crew of actors before a big performance. Then it struck her, to these men with no stake in it, this was all it was, a big performance. They were stage hands and directors, ready to pull the lever and send men to their deaths without mercy and without thought, yet this was their lives. She wondered if they had thought of that, or of they chose to ignore it for ease.

  ***

  Victory was oh so sweet. It filled the room, already lavish with the trappings of elevated status. For one night only his flying vehicle of death would become home to lords and ladies of the land. The latest fashions, chandeliers and gorgeous ball gowns. He'd courted the edge of conceit and risked much. Yet now it had paid off. The Bliss was upon them. His goddess waited in the wings and those he'd worked to ingratiate himself to had been complicit in bringing about their own end. They remained unaware that they had been betrayed as they made honourable statements and compliments, first toward Johan then to himself. These fools would hand the keys of the principality to its betrayer. They deserved whatever came to them as far as Mitrick concerned. The bottle against his chest hummed contentedly. As the banquet had progressed he'd made time to excuse himself and feed the need inside. The effect had been almost instantaneous. Rejuvenating him so completely and so quickly. He looked almost a new man as he'd reentered the room. The pewter phylactery heavier against his skin, his guiding force. His life about his neck. Finally his own turn came. It was customary among upper society circles for the host to make a toast in honour of his guests. Well tonight they would have something to consider, something for the rest of their considerably shortened lives.

  “Lords, ladies and gentlemen” he began “first allow me to pay honour to our glorious crown prince, Johan, whom without we should all be lost, nobody could do what you do sire.” Applauding erupted about him. A patriotic gesture to the ruling prince would never be greeted with anything other than the deepest respect. There was little point in pushing this further than they needed. He thought of animals being led to the slaughter. They were being soothed before the final blow was dealt. There was no need for extra cruelty. His goddess smiled at him, the image in his mind at least. If he was to become overseer of her need in the mortal realm he'd need to show a new side to himself. Something she perhaps had not expected. “Once again the Bliss is upon us and I wish each and every one of you prosperity as we enter this new age” he found himself unable to resist the cruelty. “If for a moment you may allow me to speak of myself, the road that had led me to you tonight has been one of action. A sky littered with countless tribulations and countless triumphs. Yet one foe above all others has seen itself at my blade. Tonight I give you the last remnants of piracy in Neta” he held his hand out to the chamber doors. It was time. His audience applauded as the prisoners were led in. Dishevelled and disgusting creatures. “Now if you will, we shall make our way outside to greet in the new age with a clean slate.” He gestured toward the door. Slowly those in his thrall followed, joined by the few others who found public execution distasteful. He was sure they would be seen to later. These were political killings if anything. He did not remember them complaining when they turned a higher profit, thanks in part to his military.

  ***

  They stood, bound and pinioned, awaiting the platform upon which they would stand before they dropped. The points of spears remained upright from the men below. Hired hands and guards. Resolute in their duty to the crown and its admiral. Yet them men themselves did not seem cruel. They simply stood, awaiting the change of their shift. She wondered how many times they had seen those in their custody dispatched this week. How many they had witnessed going to their graves all the while thinking about what was to come next for them, the next meal, the next drink, the next sleep. Blissfully aware that for those on the platform there would not be a next.

  Some men breathed heavy, some wept silent tears, others stood stoic in contemplation of the end. As she awaited the rope about her neck she thought back to all her journey here had shown her. Had the Three really brought her back, only to meet her end in such a manner? The will of the gods was cruel, sometimes unfathomable. Aghast she awaited, propping up her master, the old man was doing better. She hoped he wouldn't do too much better. Perhaps it was for the best if he were to simply to remain insensible for what was to come. Then in a moment of clarity his voice burst forth, sudden and sweet, defiant and beautiful, it resounded. “You think after all you've done, Lord Admiral that she will forgive you. I could fill a void in the universe with the things that you are too ignorant to understand! You think your future is safe yet you will be lost to the annals of time itself!” He spat upon the floor in disgust. He'd never sounded more resolute, as if in his end he'd found himself again. Despite the wishes she'd carried just moments before Armatrine had never been more proud of him.

  Is that you, are you there still? She asked, unsure.

  Yes child, now watch. He instructed.

  In an instant it happened. So quick that she almost missed it, yet it was there. A twist of the wrist and sleight of hand. It was all it took and the boy had broken free. Arlandus too suddenly found himself sprung of his binds. Then they secretly went to work on her, in seconds she was untied.

  The others. He ordered.

  She did as bade. Seeing her in action spurred the men. Each freed man freeing more, some at the wrists, some at the ankles, until they became an unstoppable force in fighting for their freedom. It occurred so quickly that before orders could be made, before initiative could be taken, a majority of them had broken free. Seeing the gallows upon which they would greet their deaths had spurred them.

  Indignant the admiral permitted his guests to leave as they fled in terror, Johan among them bolting to his chambers.

  “Catch them, bring them to justice!” Tenebris ordered, his voice full with the force of contempt he felt welling within.

  “Not so fast” screamed Orochi, burning with the rising force of a man renewed. He stole a cutlass from a spearman as he booted him through the trapdoor. He descended to his death with a bitter scream. “You and I have unfinished business you bastard!” He pushed toward him through the throng. Without word he pointed his blade toward him. About the admiral men descended in defence.

  “Captain!” Came a pair of familiar voices. Jak and Tyde flanking his side ready to strike any who dare oppose their captain. The sight caused Armatrine’s heart to swell with compassion, never had she seen a man so feared transformed to a man so loved.

  “Has it really come to this?” He asked. “That you should risk your lives for mine?” His voice was gruff with the age upon it.

  “We must break for it through the fortress to the ships, we’ll never take control we can only run, sometimes it’s better to retreat and think!” Tyde reasoned “Especially with an adversary such as this, don't think of it as a win or a loss! If we escape, we've already recovered some small victory!” She pleaded.

  “Aye, right you be!” He conceded. “I must be going soft in my old age! Let‘s go.”

  “This way!” Ordered Arlandus. The old priest had found a way. Tyde ran in his direction, leading the others in a slow retreat toward the docks, unreachable from where they stood. He tossed her a key he'd purloined from a fallen guard. For better or worse, this was their best chance.

  Through an unlocked door and a left. They sprinted forward. Then a right. Past rows of cells for less tricky prisoners than Oro
chi and his crew themselves. Lesser criminals, lesser crimes, a lesser risk. Lesser infamy and a lesser chance of escape or rescue. He admitted to himself a certain guilt as he passed. That he was bounding toward freedom whilst in irons they remained. Especially if the fortress were to go down. The shouting men begging for the same chance as he. Yet no help he could give. The navy were hot on their heels.

  "Tyde, the key!" He shouted.

  "We can't! Cause a riot!" She shouted back. Responding to his desperation.

  "We can't just leave ‘em here!"

  "Some men deserve the cells, others the gallows!" She reasoned.

  "You think?" Pounding footsteps upon cold stone floors echoed loudly down the corridor.

  "Us included, yet you’re too important to allow a short drop and sudden stop! Hurry!" The escaping crew made haste toward the main door of the prison. Tall and wrought iron, thick as the stone walls encapsulating them. Upon it the face of a wailing demon. More a drawbridge than a door. Slotting the key in the waiting latch, inside the demonic mouth of an ornate lock, ominous and hungry looking Bailey looked back as a series of noises unfolded inside the mechanism of the enormous door. Removing her hand in time for the mouth to close and swallow the key a sense of guilt came over her. She'd the power to save these men yet had been unable to save more than one. Some rescue.