by T. M. Lakomy
“You’re just a boy! Bring your games to me and I will destroy them!”
She rang her bedside table bell for more wine, eyeing the empty decanter and sparing a fleeting regret for the wasted vintage splashed across the wall.
3
THE TRUE NATURE OF GOD’S SHADOW
As a crucified limb that is torn and cannot be again whole
It waits patiently for the hour when all things finally end
For the trumpets of salvation, its notes across the heavens roll
And the broken shards of the spirit’s brilliance to mend
HAILING AN EMPTY CARRIAGE THAT DAY WAS EASY. AS THEY BUMPED down the road on their way to the Cathedral of St. Alban the Martyr, the count and Elmer were silent. Mikhail fidgeted darkly with his rings, recalling Estella in his mind and vowing to look into her after he’d met with Cardinal Pious, the chief of the papal order in London. After a brief, bumpy journey, the carriage arrived at its destination.
Outside the Cathedral of St. Alban a few monks were already waiting, prayer beads in hand. They nodded solemnly as two younger tonsured monks reached for Mikhail and Elmer’s luggage and wordlessly escorted the pair inside the church. It was damp and moist within, and the monks led the way through the main mass hall, down behind the altar, and past the library.
St. Alban’s Cathedral was a meeting place for many of the orders under the auspices of the church, as well as many independent orders that had survived the scythes of time and war. There, shrouded in mystery, they congregated with monarchs and noblemen, mystics and laypeople. There they harnessed the knowledge gleaned from their arts and searched for answers, seeking to understand the cruel game, the chessboard of dark and light, God and the Blind One, Samael.
Mikhail was chief of the Order of the Northern Star, one of the ancient orders of watchers that guarded the thin veil through which demonic forces from the void could enter earth and defile it. They countered these attacks through the mystic teachings of enlightened kings such as Solomon and David.
After the Fall from heaven when the heavenly hosts were cast out with Lucifer at their front, many became demigods and founded early civilizations where they were worshipped by mortals. And while some were benevolent despite their fallen nature, and eventually sought their way home to God, others sought solely domination and decay. Then there were those who refused to choose sides, playing eternally between darkness and light in the shrouded Twilit world, a realm of existence that severed them from the games of the other deities, where they dwelled as the pagan gods of old.
The Twilit people, those blessed by the gifts of the old gods—miracle makers, seers, witches, and shamans—were the most vulnerable to being caught up in the struggle between light and dark, and being forced to choose sides. Those who were not strong enough succumbed to insanity, their minds broken. And they were abhorred by the church for their abdication of what they believed to be the one true faith.
Mikhail followed the monks down a long flight of cold stone steps, the monks crossing themselves piously at the sight of religious icons along the way. He was then led to a starkly furnished room with a stone floor carved with elaborate roses and fleur-de-lis mosaics in faded colors. The pompous Cardinal Pious was waiting, along with Oswald, Mikhail’s oldest friend and the head of the Papal Inquisition.
“Good afternoon, my dear friend,” Oswald greeted him. “I was expecting you yesterday, I must say, but nonetheless it’s always worth the wait.” Oswald, banishing his weariness, beamed at Mikhail and clasped his arms in a brotherly fashion. He was broad and muscular and wore black unadorned leathers under his heavy cloak. His black eyes were shrewd, and the silver grey hair falling to his shoulders showed the weight of age gracefully. The cardinal sniffed imperiously, merely nodding perfunctorily at his arrival, and Mikhail seated himself.
“So where were you last night, Count?” said the cardinal dourly. The sour old wrinkled man held an iron staff and eyed him disapprovingly.
As the count sifted through the ugly tangle of the cardinal’s thoughts, he was not surprised to unravel a heavy thread of jealousy. The cardinal had not chosen the life of the cloister willingly—he had once nurtured other dreams and ambitions of his own. Now the envy he felt towards the count for the freedoms and pleasures he enjoyed gnawed at him. But the cardinal had the ear of the king, and it would be unwise to dismiss him entirely.
“I did not find my way easily into London, and the weather was atrocious to the extent that I couldn’t find a carriage or decent lodging till nightfall.” Mikhail smiled ruefully at the full goblet that was placed before him by a young monk, recalling yesterday’s events. “I stayed the night at Red Fern Manor, and then found my way to you first thing this morning. Forgive my tardiness, but I did my utmost to reach you.” Mikhail’s tone was cool and pleasant.
“Red Fern Manor,” Oswald chuckled merrily. “You spent the night there of all places? Small wonder you were reluctant to grace us with your presence. How on earth did you even find your way there? But Lady Estella is quite the one for times of need, though she seems to avoid me for some strange reason,” he noted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I hear she is betrothed to the Earl of Woodcraft,” he added in conspiratorial tones. “A great lad, I must say, youthful and easily led.”
“I never would have thought she was betrothed,” Mikhail replied. “She seems to be of the wilder breeds of women.” He raised an inquisitive brow and somewhere deep down within felt a sharp pang of disappointment, much to his disconcertment.
“I find her terribly unholy, that woman. I do not find her humility appealing—there is something filthy about her,” spat out the cardinal, his jowls wobbling. Mikhail suppressed his disgust at the carnal thoughts radiating from the cardinal.
“So never mind her,” Mikhail growled, tapping the table with his fingers impatiently as his geniality foundered and he struggled to control his anger. “I must demand your full attention, now that we have exchanged the inane pleasantries, and you will hold your peace till I’m done.” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and rubbing his temples vigorously as he strove to contain the tempestuous rage and bitterness that seethed within.
“I am here because a vision led me to London, and because you are the select few with the authority to instigate the adequate mechanism of defense we need.” He turned to face them, his jaw taut and his impatient arrogance showing through his courteous mask. Oswald uncrossed his arms and nodded approvingly, his attention fixed.
“It began with the grim reports from the Frankish kingdoms,” Mikhail began in a weathered tone. “At first, many young children were reported to the church as having seizures and fits and babbling warnings from the angels. Then the children started to die. The cause was strangulation—they would expire while frothing rabidly with omens. At first we did not think much of it. Then the aesthetics monastery was attacked.” Mikhail began tapping the table again, his gaze sweeping over them. “All the monks had their eyes and tongues removed.”
The cardinal’s watery eyes widened in alarm.
“We discovered that a woman had arrived to receive confession before the onslaught had occurred, so we decided to track her down. But we couldn’t find a trace of her. Then several pregnant women began acting erratically. We ordered them to be confined to bedlams, but they found ways to throw themselves into fires and burned themselves to death. Others stabbed their wombs and took the lives of their infants with them. And so the death toll kept rising higher and higher. Soon after, I received a vision and understood: we were looking for a child to be born. Whether good or evil, it wasn’t clear, so we intensified our search for this woman.
“Then we heard rumors of one who was hiding in a nunnery. It was said she made the statues of the Virgin Mary weep, but her identity was unknown and shrouded in silence. Many people, however, gave testimony that the nunnery was full of doves and angelic lights. So I personally, with a few trusted Templars, led the way to the nunnery. It was located on a rocky h
ill on the outskirts of the town, a real place of obscure devotion and avoidance of the world. It took us three days of arduous journey. Along the way we noticed portentous bird migrations, notably doves flying towards that region. We pressed forwards then, finally arriving in the dead of night. Alas, we brought with us the woman’s doom, though unwittingly.
“The nuns barred our entry at first, but when we showed them our sigils, they began to weep and beg us to leave, saying we were bringing the devil with us. We didn’t heed their fears or pause to reflect on their warnings, but forced our way in. My foresight was dulled there by an unnatural force and it only spurred me forward. Still the nuns begged us to wait till she had at least delivered her baby, but we demanded to be brought to her—or they would face excommunication. Reginald, my trusted steward, pushed them aside and we searched the nunnery till we found her in a flint stone room on a humble bed, cradling her swollen stomach.
“At the sight of us she began to weep and wail, begging us to depart, but we needed to question her. Yet we found that she would not speak, so we decided there and then to frighten her, to bring her back with us and invite the fathers of the church to encourage her to talk. She would not answer us as to who the father of her child was, and she kept mumbling prayers and making ward signs as if we were the enemy.
“She was a very simple girl, and even her name and place of birth she withheld from us. Naturally we had reason to doubt her sincerity, though the nuns had vouched for her pious nature. The more we questioned her, the more she wailed and implored us to leave, so we had no choice but to take her with us. Reginald watched over her during the night, and we camped in neighboring rooms.
“Night came heavy, and we all fell into a deep stupor. We must have been under some spell, for nothing alerted us to the commotion. I was blessed enough to awaken feeling the ice-cold of my locket, which holds a fragment of the true cross. The locket seared my skin, and I awoke startled and feeling deeply rattled. Vapors surrounded us and none of my men could be roused. They were under an unshakable torpor. I felt sure something evil was afoot.
“As I made my way to the room in which the woman was kept, I saw that the door was ajar and Reginald fast asleep. Then I saw that the woman was gone. I bolted down the stairs with my sword in hand and headed instinctively for the Mass hall. That’s when I saw it happening right before my very eyes, and I will never rip the imprint of the memory from my mind.” Mikhail paused and shivered, covering his face with his hands. Then, staring them each squarely in the eyes, he continued.
“I did not see them first, I was just hit with the sight of a curled fetus on the cold stone floor before me. Then I understood that something truly evil had infected the nunnery, and we were too late. I could see that the child would have been a boy. And leading from his small, crushed form was a trail of blood. Never have I hesitated in my life to follow any trail, however forbidding, but there was a desolate chill in my bones and in my soul. My strength of mind and spirit had been bled out of me by some abhorrent force and I was plagued with unshakable tremors. Then I heard them, and I had no choice but to follow the trail of blood, no matter where it led me.
“The trail led me to the foot of the altar where they were; the woman was moaning, her belly slit open. His rasping breath rent shivers down my spine as he tortured her. I rushed towards them with my sword, roaring in fury and dismay.
“Then he turned around and faced me, and I froze in horror. His bald face was a melted mask of decaying flesh, one single putrid eye was set in his brow, and his mouth was a lipless gash of black, rotted teeth. There stood the Blind One, the False God himself, Samael, that rotten aborted abomination of darkness . . .”
Immediately there was a choked splutter from the cardinal. Livid and shaking his head furiously, he cried, “That cannot be! Samael? Incarnate and in flesh? Here walking among us? This is sheer madness!”
Mikhail turned to look at the cardinal with deliberate slowness and the cardinal withered beneath his menacing stare. Inhaling deeply, Mikhail continued, his face darkened.
“I knew there was an enemy before me that I could not fight alone. He radiated darkness, and every fear I had ever harbored in my heart came to life before me in my mind, and every sin I had ever committed was amplified. The most despicable thoughts occurred to me, and deeds I’d never consider committing tempted me and marched upon my mind as he corrupted my soul into joining him, into joining him in defiling her. But I repudiated those thoughts and I sought for God within me.
“I found inside a gaping chasm. I saw through his rotten vision an existence devoid of Godhead. Born blind in a blind darkness, not knowing light or purity, his self-devouring darkness regurgitated itself, expanding into itself and declaring itself god above all. I knew then that I must resist with everything I had, or fall and lose my soul to the worst depredations of hell.
“As I strode towards him shaking, I prayed fervently to God and his angels. But that night no one was there to heed me. Suddenly I found I could no longer walk, my limbs froze, and I fell to my knees, utterly paralyzed. The False God laughed a soulless, knowing laugh that made me retch and my blood curdle. I was overcome with horror and his putrid eye bore into me.
“‘This was the daughter who could have brought forth the messiah of the age,’ he laughed and turned back to the woman who was now frothing blood at the mouth. I knew we had failed miserably as an order, and we were forsaken, alone, and blameworthy. No prayer came to my mind, but the sobbing in my heart shook me and filled me with a feverish frenzy of pain. Then mercy came to me and I swooned, and I could no longer hear her cries.”
Mikhail abruptly stopped talking, his gaze directed beyond Oswald and the cardinal into a distance they could not see. Oswald’s arms were crossed defensively, but his expression was somber and his jaw tightly set. A vein pulsated in his neck wildly. Uncrossing his arms, he smote the table with his fist angrily.
“And we are always late in the infernal game! We need to change tactics. I have never dreamt of such a day when my friend would come to me with such an ignoble tale of our failures. Samael the Blind God here, mocking us so openly? Where is the outrage?” He glared at the cardinal, the target of his fury, who had gone ashen grey. Now more than ever he seemed a frail, impotent wreck, hiding behind his priestly garb.
“Talk, dammit,” Oswald stormed, “this is your people’s fault. We warned them not to create a schism between the Twilit people and the men of religion, we warned you numerous times not to marginalize the ones with the aptitude to pick up the signs we cannot see!” Oswald was on his feet, pointing at the cardinal accusingly. “I am sick of this masquerade. We alienate the very people that could help us.”
Cardinal Pious pulled on his beard, flinching piteously. “I do not believe him! I refuse to believe that this conjured demon was Samael, or that the girl was the mother of the messiah!” he spluttered. “This is some trickery conceived by the Twilit people to ingratiate themselves with us, no doubt. And you, Mikhail, have been deceived by them! You are fools if you think you can trust them or manage them. They are like beasts. They know no authority or fear of God. Shall we stoop to mingling with these swine because they have a deformity that allows them to steal from God’s prescribed future? You are fools to think you can align your efforts with these people. What has happened is a result of the church’s failure to expunge the Twilit, once and for all,” the cardinal concluded, waving his hands in dismissal.
4
THE DEATH OF INNOCENCE
For slavery of the spirit is seated in false righteousness divine
At the vanguard of the prowess of the virtues so sublime
And ever the glorification of the fettering dogmas shine
As the radiant sun of our liberation above our minds supine
MIKHAIL WATCHED PATIENTLY. THERE WAS NO NEED TO INTERFERE AT this stage. He had achieved the required effect. Oswald would deal with it. Mikhail knew he lacked the calm discipline to indulge the fathers of the church, but he could
trust Oswald to hammer the reality home.
Though the orders were immune to the attacks from the demonic forces, they were blind to their activity. And yet it was mostly the orders that sought out these demonic presences and banished them. The orders needed the church’s aid to help the Twilit people. Then with the combined power of the Twilit people’s gifts with the orders’ own, they would have a much higher chance of preventing the evil from spreading.
The Twilit people were caught between both worlds, and as a result, their gifts encompassed realms that the orders could not breach. From divining the future to sensing death and demons, they could even feel when demonic forces scavenged from human auras. And there were some with noctilucent eyes, who could summon entry portals to the other worlds by tearing the fabric of the veil. They could summon good or evil into this world, and often became instruments of greater powers in the cruel game.
Mikhail was suddenly weary and desired private conversation with Oswald. The cardinal was still gesticulating indignantly, wagging his old beard and professing to know things that only God himself knew.
“You had better heed us this time, or you might end your days a poor monk living off alms,” Oswald growled.
The cardinal puffed out his chest defiantly and pushed past Oswald. “I am never wrong, you fools, you will see.” He unbolted the warded locks on the door and hurried off down the damp corridors. Oswald made to follow him, but Mikhail raised a hand.
“Let it be, we won’t gain anything by this. Haven’t you noticed? He barely acknowledged my report, he won’t believe me, and neither will anyone outside of the orders. They are slow and obtuse. But there is much I have in mind to implement, starting from here,” he added sardonically.