“Is there anything else?” he growled.
With wide and alarmed eyes, the Scale shook his head no.
Ludus made a small grunt, and then retreated into the darkness at the back of the chapel. As he stepped into the shadow, a crimson red light flashed once around his giant frame, and in the next instant he was gone. It was as if in a single moment he had been seamlessly grafted into the shadow.
With Malum gone, the Scale returned his attention to Eiydia.
“I can promise you one thing, my dear,” he said. “Our king is perhaps our most avid agent in interrogations of treason. When he looks into you, all that you know, whatever you have held dearest in this world, will belong to him. My advice for you? It would prove wise not to invoke his power.”
As the Vayne dragged her, Eiydia wrestled against them, but her attempt at escape was easily neutralized.
The Scale moved assertively in front of her and issued his final warning.
“Your fate is set,” he assured, “and it is not promising. However, I do intend to keep it on schedule. Do not test me again.”
Eiydia met the Scale’s eyes, studied him for a moment, and then spat in his face.
“You are a disgrace to this realm!” she scolded.
The Scale retrieved a piece of cloth from his belt and wiped the spit from his face. With a poised calm he placed the cloth back in his belt and then delivered a violent backhand to Eiydia’s cheek. Eiydia was knocked unconscious by the impact, and as her body slumped into the Vayne’s arms, the Scale adjusted the collar on his shirt and broke into a pompous smile.
“Sorry boys,” he said. “I guess she won’t be using her legs after all.”
16
Word in Animus Letum has a way of travelling quickly. As soon as news broke of the Vayne escorting a rebel to the Throne Room, the streets leading to Forneus were lined with eager onlookers. The largest congregation of people was assembled at the base of the royal staircase. Trying his best to blend into the crowd was Shylam, the faction’s unofficial leader. Shylam was kept aware of all activities being carried out by the agents in his faction, and when news reached him that a rebel had been captured, he was left with a regrettable task. He needed to narrow down the field of possibly captured agents and then deduce which one of his friends was about to be tortured and killed.
The field of possibly captured agents was narrowed down to Eiydia.
Shylam was joined on the streets by many of the faction, and as they lingered on the street, the weight of fear held them all in collective silence. They knew that Eiydia’s soul, or any soul in the faction for that matter, posed no opposition to Forneus’s strength. They knew that when Forneus looked onto Eiydia, she would tell him anything he wanted. The faction was well aware of Forneus’s aptitude for interrogation. They knew that their existence was about to be compromised. They also knew that because of their actions, each one of their loved ones would be hunted and killed. It was the harshest of realities. The only question looming was how long? How long did the faction have until all its members were destroyed?
As Shylam and the faction continued to wait, they stood as one, all cognisant of one horrific truth. Eiydia would suffer first, and they would suffer second. The only gesture that seemed relevant was to be there – together. In their acknowledgment of the faction’s terrible fate, they chose to stand as one, offering each other a small and knowing nod before hell swallowed their souls.
Soon, with the faction lining the roadway, a procession of Vayne approached from the east. It was Eiydia’s convoy. When she came into view, the crowd’s initial interest was replaced by a communal sense of pity. The Vayne had inflicted an even more violent beating on Eiydia than she suffered at the hands of Malum Ludus. As the Vayne dragged her bloody and torn flesh across the stone road, Eiydia was so broken she couldn’t even manage a wail or yelp.
All together there were four Vayne and one Scale surrounding her. Two of the Vayne were behind Eiydia, holding spears at her back, and the other two were at her sides, dragging her and threatening any person who would think to come to her aid. The Scale walked in front of her, boasting of Eiydia’s capture to the crowd.
“This is the fate of heretics!” he shouted. “Opposition to the Throne is futile! The Throne sees all!”
As Eiydia was dragged forward she seemed to suddenly realize that there was a crowd around her. Her body animated with a visible jolt of energy, and as she pulled herself into a crawl, her eyes began a furtive survey of the people in the crowd. Her eyes scoured the sides of the street desperately, darting and scanning until they locked intently onto Shylam. The look was beyond desperate. It was a raw, pleading stare, and it would not let him go. The faction leader was stunned. His body wanted to respond evasively, but his mind commanded him to hold strong. As the Vayne dragged Eiydia over the small expanse of dirt that separated the roadway from the beginning of the royal staircase, she nodded to Shylam and then fell flat against the earth. Shylam watched her hands work in rapid succession, but before he had time to decipher what Eiydia was doing, the Vayne violently pulled her back to her knees. With a massive gulp, Eiydia stared back at the Vayne, and as she glared into them, a giant mass – one too big to swallow – became visibly lodged in her throat.
“She’s swallowed something!” the Scale yelled. “Hit her in the stomach! Don’t let her die!”
With powerful strikes, the Vayne began to drive their fists into Eiydia’s abdomen, and after a series of shots, a massive stone expelled from Eiydia’s mouth. With her breath heaving out of her, the Vayne started to hit Eiydia again, but even amid the assault, her eyes remained locked on Shylam. As she held his attention, Eiydia used her finger to subtly point to a mound of dirt she had piled.
In the next second she was gone: dragged up the staircase to a certain death.
After Eiydia had disappeared from sight, most of the crowd dispersed. Shylam hung back for a moment, and after the commotion completely died, he made inquisitive strides to the mound of dirt that Eiydia had pointed to. As he reached the dirt, he knelt beside the mound, pretending to adjust his sandal, and after his eyes nervously scouted the surroundings, he quickly raked his hand through the dirt. His hand brushed against something that felt like paper, and with a subtle grip he lifted the object out of the dirt and casually tucked inside his belt.
Shylam hurried his walk until he felt he was safe, and then retrieved the object from his belt. It seemed to be a page from a diary. As he looked it over, he recognized Eiydia’s handwriting. The words scribbled at the bottom of the page, however, were of a truth he hoped to never recognize:
Get word to Throne’s Eye: location of Serich’s crown in jeopardy
As he swallowed his fear, Shylam knew that time was not on his side. Eiydia would soon tell Forneus anything he wanted to know. Word had to be sent to the Throne’s Eye. They needed to be prepared. Shylam again tucked the paper into his belt, and with extreme worry he began a desperate sprint to the faction headquarters.
The battered Eiydia, by will of the Vayne escorting her, ascended the final step into the Throne Room. The condition of the Throne Room seemed to hold no memory of its previous reigns. It now belonged to Forneus. The pillars and columns surrounding the massive room had been left neglected and their once regal appearance had been overthrown by the twisting growth of snake like vines. Below the columns was a stone banister that surrounded the Throne Room. The banister had a deep groove carved into its top. During Serich’s reign the groove had burned with an electric blue fire, but in Forneus’s time of power the banister was overflowing with hundreds of slithering snakes. There were countless more Vayne standing guard in the Throne Room, and although their poses did not break, their yellow eyes all locked onto the new prisoner. At the back of the Throne Room was the Soul Cauldron, a massive cylinder with a slightly transparent shell. Its hue was like burning ember, and its fire-like texture cast the surrounding sky into a hellish orange. The sound of screaming voices rang out as white skeletons sla
shed around its inside. At the base of the Cauldron was Forneus’s throne.
The king sat at rest in the carnage that surrounded him.
The Vayne dragged Eiydia to the foot of the throne and tossed her to Forneus’s feet. Stricken with fear, Eiydia refused to look up. With pompous vigour, the Scale that had accompanied her from the Dark Pool informed the king of Eiydia’s crime.
“My Lord, our barter with Ludus has revealed a new development,” he said. “Ludus has assured us that this prisoner’s mind holds the location of your crown.”
The king nodded and then cast the Scale away with a motion of his hand. After rising slowly, the Serpent stepped silently forward, stalking the terrified Eiydia who was huddled before him. Forneus towered over her. His dark purple hood had drowned his features into black, but even in the gloom of their cover, Forneus’s unmistakable eyes burned an unholy orange. Since the inception of his reign, none but the Scale and Vayne had looked upon the king. Rumours of his physical state had run rampant in Animus Letum. Some believed that he had become more serpent than man; others, acknowledging Forneus’s ability to grow on pain, believed that with no opposition the king had taken to self-mutilation. But as Forneus stood and then removed the hood that covered his head and upper torso, Eiydia came to learn both rumours were true. Forneus’s body was covered with hundreds of scars from self-inflicted knife wounds. His giant hands were calloused with mended lacerations, and his back had been mutilated by the lashes of a whip. But it was his skin that was most revolting. Forneus’s once dark skin seemed to be rotting and peeling away to reveal black and green snake scales. His flesh and scales held to no pattern. His body said nothing of royalty. He had become a vision of rot.
As Forneus circled the frightened Eiydia, stalking her and preying on her fear, his calm, cold breathing announced no emotion, but also no mercy. Eiydia cowered in wait of her punishment, but the Serpent King only knelt beside her, whispering his words with accentuated sibilance.
“Understand,” he hissed, “that through you, your brothers and sisters will suffer. Through you this land will submit its very soul to me. Through you,” the Serpent promised, “I will send a message to all still loyal to Serich.”
Forneus’s voice invaded Eiydia’s entirety. Her body wretched and recoiled against the Serpent’s presence, but the wicked king only relished his power of tongue. Forneus again circled the pain-stricken Eiydia, until in an instant his true nature lashed out. Using his great power of mind, Forneus manipulated Eiydia first to her feet, and then cruelly suspended her in the air before him.
“Where is my crown?” his sadistic voice demanded.
Eiydia’s body shuddered with fear, and as a shriek escaped her mouth, her body became wracked with incredible pain. She began to convulse and streams of blood ran from her nose and ears.
Forneus circled her once more, attacking Eiydia with his menacing tone. “I will not ask you again,” he threatened. “You are certain to die today, and I am certain to attain what I desire. But if you speak now, you will save yourself great pain. Do not hold your tongue, my lady: it would prove quite unwise.”
Eiydia, striving for defiance amidst her fear, could not miss this opportunity. The very devil of her land – the cancer of Animus Letum’s soul – needed information she held. She would not give it to him. In the face of her death, Eiydia would honour the memory of her greatest friend. For Serich, Eiydia would be brave. With blood cascading down her face, Eiydia screamed through her pain.
“You are no king!” she wailed. “Your evil will pillage my soul. Your hands will deliver me to death, but you will never steal nor kill my heart. Do your worst!” she screamed. “Martyr my name!”
Forneus grinned in reply. “Martyrs die for their cause,” he said coldly. “You will die for mine.”
In an instant, Forneus lunged at the suspended Eiydia and used his left hand to dig deeply into the flesh surrounding her spine. As Eiydia shrieked in pain, the king’s right hand clutched her face and began to crush her skull from temple to temple. As he held Eiydia in torment, Forneus’s eyes began to burn a deeper orange. With a growl, his eyes ignited like fire, and then he, with his serpent talents, invaded Eiydia’s mind. No matter how she tried, Eiydia was rendered a paralyzed witness. Using his great power, Forneus held and observed Eiydia’s memories. He played them backwards in cruel mosaic, torturing his host with whispers of her futility. The serpent paraded Eiydia’s memories back, step by step. He marched her to the foot of the royal staircase and observed as she buried her note and tried to attract Shylam’s attention. As Eiydia felt and saw the depths of Forneus’s talent, the king could sense her panic. Her terror pleased him, and desiring more of it, the Serpent King committed even greater force to his torment. He searched deep in Eiydia’s mind, collecting her memories and tainting them with his slithering presence. As Forneus pushed deeper, at one image Eiydia screamed in protest.
The memory was of Eiydia standing outside a chapel. Shylam was approaching her, and as he approached he extended his hand and issued a welcome.
“Welcome to the faction,” he said. Then, with a gentle smile he gestured to the chapel behind him. “And to headquarters.”
Eiydia willed all of her power to somehow break Forneus’s hold, but the serpent was too strong. The memories became more lucid, more vivid, and soon Forneus traced Eiydia’s mind to the exact scene she was desperate to forget: Shylam was behind the altar in the faction headquarters. He was surrounded by many of the other high ranking faction members, but he was addressing Eiydia.
“You have overcome every trial we have presented you with,” Shylam said proudly. “Your strength and wisdom have been humbling to observe.”
In the memory, Eiydia nodded bashfully.
“I hope you can forgive the speed of this process,” Shylam said, “but each trial was painstakingly designed to solicit our trust.”
Shylam looked down the line of faction members and then spoke on their behalf. “I am proud to say that you have earned it. All we ask is that we have yours. Eiydia, we are asking you to approach our altar.”
As Shylam invited Eiydia with his left hand, he used his right to quickly pull a blue curtain from behind the altar. Beneath the blue curtain was an empty glass cylinder with a tube sticking out from its inside.
“You know what we protect, and you know what we fight,” Shylam said. “To be one of us is to forfeit any identity you now possess. If we are doing our job properly, we don’t exist. However, now is your chance to take arms with us. Now is your chance to protect the hope of Animus Letum.”
In the grip of Forneus’s sinister embrace, Eiydia knew how her memory was about to unfold. She knew what she was about to say, and she knew what knowledge Forneus would soon possess. Forneus too could feel the gravity of the situation, and his delighted voice echoed in Eiydia’s head.
“Rest easy, child. All is already lost.”
Eiydia screamed in futility as the weight of the serpent’s voice brought her to tears.
In the memory, Shylam had retrieved a ceremonial tobacco pipe, and after packing it and lighting the tobacco, he inhaled from the pipe and exhaled the smoke into the tube going into the cylinder.
“The smoke,” he explained to Eiydia, “is one of the few elements that can cross back and forth between realms. Through it we can open a vision and, more importantly, a dialogue with anyone living or dead. It’s like a séance. I would assume you know exactly whom we intend to reach.”
Eiydia whimpered, pleading with the memory of herself.
“Don’t say it. Please, god-damn-it, don’t say it.”
It was to no avail.
“The Throne’s Eye,” Eiydia said in the memory.
Shylam looked around to his colleagues with a proud smile.
An equally pleased Forneus was also present.
“The Throne’s Eye,” he repeated in revelation. “Serich’s great secret.”
His tone was dark and salivating, relishing the discovery.
&n
bsp; Eiydia shuddered as she not only heard but felt the evil in his voice. She squirmed, praying for escape, but the Serpent was now completely invested in her memories, and the well of his hold only deepened.
In the vision, Shylam had exhaled more smoke into the cylinder. In the moments after, the smoke began to swirl into a column. Then, with a sudden green flash, the smoke exploded into what looked like a living plane, and a scene quickly emerged from within the smoke.
The scene was of the High Temple in the Throne’s Eye monastery. Standing in the Temple was a very old man wearing a dark gray robe.
“Igallik,” Shylam issued in welcome, “we bring you another loyal to the true throne of Animus Letum.”
Igallik smiled heartily.
“Another?” he grinned. “We can always use another.”
Shylam reached his hand out and invited Eiydia to the front of the cylinder.
“Igallik, meet Eiydia.”
Igallik studied Eiydia for a moment. He seemed to hesitate before he spoke. Observing from her memory, Eiydia remembered what was about to happen. She was thankful for Igallik and his sight, but she now prayed for his timing. On the altar in the Throne’s Eye Temple was the crown of Animus Letum. Forneus had yet to detect it. Somehow, someway, Eiydia remembered that Igallik was about to terminate the portal, but she didn’t remember exactly when. She hoped it was soon enough.
In the memory, Igallik was still looking over Eiydia.
“She has passed the trials?” he asked suspiciously.
Eiydia’s hope flickered.
“Every one,” Shylam vouched. Shylam began to read Igallik’s concern. “I assure you, she can be trusted.”
Eiydia wanted to curse Shylam. She could feel Forneus’s attention getting closer to the box. She could feel it and she wouldn’t let it happen. Eiydia put the crown out of her mind, focusing all her attention on Igallik. It was no use – Forneus was too strong. As the crown found his attention, a sudden wave of cold – one that Forneus couldn’t mask or control – shook through Eiydia’s body.
The Sons of Animus Letum Page 17