Passing Through Darkness- The Complete Cycle

by Malcolm McKenzie

  “‘The life of prayer calls for continuous battles. It is the most important and the longest effort in a life dedicated to God. This effort has been given a beautiful name: it is called the guard of the heart. The human heart is a city; it was meant to be a stronghold. Sin surrendered it. Henceforth it is an open city, the walls of which have to be built up again. The enemy never ceases to do all he can to prevent this. He does this with his accustomed cleverness and strength, with stratagem and fury . . . he succeeds all along the line to distract us and entice us away from the divine presence. We must always be starting again. These continual recoveries, this endless beginning again, tires and disheartens us far more than the actual fighting. We would much prefer a real battle, fierce and decisive. But God, as a rule, thinks otherwise. He would rather we were in a constant state of war.’”

  The priest continued, “There is no instant growth into holiness, and there is no final battle in this lifetime that offers a decisive victory. Because God gives us free will, at every moment we are free to choose right. Or wrong. Think of every frustration you feel as a tiny mortification, God’s way of reminding you that you’re mortal and the world isn’t meant to go your way.”

  The piercing eyes bored into me. “Salvation can’t be on our terms. It’s on God’s terms. You have to surrender to him. In the end, every action you take is either pleasing to God, or displeasing to God. To know which is which, all you need to do is pray.”

  I nodded as if in agreement, but then after a moment I asked, “Is that really going to help?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice. Muttering to the divine seemed a little too much like talking to myself.

  “True prayer is a conversation with God. If you let yourself have a sincere conversation, if you truly talk, and truly listen, perhaps sometimes he’ll let you know whether you’re pleasing him or not.” The priest rubbed at the nicks in the wooden desk. “God gives us free will, and he won’t make us perfect. Not you. Not me. But little by little, if we let him, he lets us see our imperfections. Not always to overcome them - sometimes we can’t overcome them. But if we can make ourselves stop, and pray, sometimes we can manage to take hold of the hand he reaches down to us. Just for a little while. But personally, I like to think I’m able to grasp his hand longer each time.”

  He continued to hold my eyes. “That’s your goal and mine. An aspiration to be better. Not achieving it, but aspiring to it, and making the effort every day to reach for it.”

  I had to admit I was taken aback. He was a figure of such terrible sternness - it was shocking to hear him not just speak with sympathy, but to admit his own weakness. It made me bolder still, no longer challenging him, but letting my doubts pour out. “And how does reaching for God’s hand square with my role as a warlord? A big part of that job is killing people.”

  The priest leaned back and let out a long breath. “Ah. I think perhaps we’re coming a bit closer to the heart of the matter.”

  “There’s a lot of blood on my hands, Father. Whatever you say Prophetess may have done to wash it away. There’s likely to be a lot more.”

  He nodded. “There are relevant doctrines. The theory of just war. Jus ad bellum and jus in bello. Whether a war is just, and whether it is conducted justly. You must examine the cause of the war, whether it is necessary and unavoidable, and whether it is conducted to minimize the suffering and injustice that always accompany it.”

  “Are we talking about what I’ve done, or what I’m going to do?”

  “Again, this is your confession. That choice is yours.”

  I took a deep breath. “Let’s start with when I decided to kill people for a living, Father. I didn’t have to join Rockwall’s army. I could have stayed on the Flow digging through garbage. I could have gone a hundred different places. I chose to enlist in wartime.”

  My throat tightened. I found it hard to continue, to meet the priest’s eyes, but I did. “And once I did, I killed a lot of people. I… I honestly can’t count. Twice, when I let the Darkness take me… I’ve tried to remember how many I killed, but I just can’t. I killed a Select, though. We don’t do that. I suppose it shouldn’t be any different, a person’s a person, but we don’t kill our own.”

  No more words would come. Roric and I sat silently on opposite sides of his desk for a moment.

  Then he said, “As it happens, I’ve made myself familiar with the story of the Shadowed Hand. Many soldiers seek confession. While I can’t of course tell you the sins of others, I can give you my impression of your campaign.”

  The lean priest raised a finger. “First, Rockwall’s war in the disputed area with the Monolith is clearly unjust. While the Monolith was responsible for recent provocations, an offensive for territorial expansion is never justified. I know that both sides portray it as an attempt to civilize the territory, but no meaningful diplomacy has been undertaken, and neither state has in practice shown any interest in the welfare of the inhabitants.”

  I nodded. There wasn’t much I could say to that. I didn’t disagree. He went on, “However, it is accepted that a citizen of a state enlisted in the lawful army of that state is not morally responsible for determining jus ad bellum. As I understand it, you did not enter Rockwall with the intention of taking up a position as a mercenary soldier, but rather enlisted after you had chosen to make that state your domicile for other purposes. I do not believe blame attaches to you for your decision to join the army. The political decisions were, as they say, above your pay grade.”

  I was a bit surprised that he was letting me off the hook so easily. I supposed the hook would be sunk deeper and then twisted when it came to my personal conduct.

  He raised a second finger. “As far as your actions when you commanded the Shadowed Hand, a number of your fellow soldiers noted that you generally went to some lengths to minimize enemy casualties, and you never endangered noncombatants. With respect to your behavior when you were under the control of the Darkness, I believe we have to consider that you were not in control of yourself at that time.”

  I shook my head. “No. That’s not true. The Darkness makes you follow your own worst impulses, but they’re still your own impulses.”

  “I understand that. But the impulse toward sin is an unavoidable part of the human condition. Moral success or failure derives from resisting or succumbing to that impulse. To have a fleeting rush of anger is not sinful. To indulge that anger, whether through violence or even merely wishing evil to its object, is a sin. When you were infected with the Darkness, your ability to resist sin was suppressed. Your moral fault is thus mitigated. However, I should note that if you were ever to knowingly employ the Darkness again -” and here his tone sharpened, “that would be an entirely different question.”

  In my mind, I replayed Lalos raising his hands, dropping his pistol, my blade severing his hand and then his head.

  “I killed a man after he surrendered.”

  “I don’t believe I violate the confidence of the confessional when I say that more than one witness described that event to me. As I understand it, the Select shot at you, in fact hitting you, and surrendered only in the fraction of a second when it became clear you would kill him before he could kill you. I have a vivid memory of a statement by one of your men. ‘The captain felt bad about it afterwards, but that treacherous Select bastard had it coming.’ Frankly, I’m rather inclined to agree.”

  I had some trouble processing what I was hearing. “Are you saying I didn’t do anything wrong when the Darkness was in me?”

  “I’m saying that you were not the monster you seem to believe yourself to have been. Your concerns do you credit, but you should be confident in the power of your baptism to free you from the evil that possessed you.”

  “So I guess it’s only trying to fight a just war against a totally superior enemy I have to worry about.”

  The priest leaned forward, hawk’s nose pointing at me. “Indeed. The cause is just this time. But the conduct of the struggle is your responsib
ility, both professionally and morally. I can’t say I envy you.”

  He turned and rummaged in the bookshelf behind his desk, finally pulling out a thick, black volume. “St. Thomas Aquinas. Summa Theologica. It includes a discussion of just war theory, as well as many other interesting matters.” He handed me the book. It must have weighed five pounds.

  I opened the massive tome. Each sheet was as thin as onion skin. It was over three thousand pages long. “Um, where exactly is the section on just war?”

  Roric smiled wickedly. “The whole volume is profitable for you. I suggest you read it cover to cover.” Then he took pity on my anguished look. “It has an index.”

  “I see you survived,” John Dee said lightly. The lanky, loud-mouthed occultist who was now my army’s unlikely herald had intercepted me at the foot of the rectory stairs. He’d probably been lurking in wait.

  “Got off with an Our Father and a Hail Mary. And a ridiculously long book to read.” I was still shocked. I’d more than half expected Father Roric to condemn me to eternal hellfire or douse me with holy water to see if I burst into flames. Part of the weight I’d been carrying was lifted… but I still didn’t know how I was going to turn two brigades that couldn’t work together into an army that could stand up to the Darkness Radiant.

  “Why don’t you make yourself useful and go round up the Ministry of Defense?” I said.

  Dee drew himself up to his full, gangling height. “Make myself useful? I do believe power has gone to your head, my friend. I am a scholar, not an errand boy. Why, just before I came here I was conversing with Aharon son of Malak on -”

  “Something completely irrelevant to anyone but the two of you,” I snapped. “You may not be an errand boy, but you’re supposed to be my herald. Go herald. Somehow you always seem to know where everyone is and what they’re doing. So how about we put that to good purpose?”

  “Knowledge is my purpose,” Dee said with the wounded dignity of a cat that had fallen off a window ledge. “But if using it to your vulgar ends is the cost of scholarship, so be it.”

  “Thank you. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just say, ‘Sure, Minos, happy to help’?”

  He looked down his nose at me. “No.”

  But he went.

  The Ministry met regularly in an upper room of the rectory, windowless, paneled in dark wood, lit by a half dozen torches. It looked like the kind of place great conspiracies were born. The reality was less impressive.

  These days our group consisted of General Hake and BlackShield Jarl Lago, Tolf as commander of Prophetess’ personal guard, Prophetess herself, and me. Marek, captain of Our Lady’s limited troops, was there because it would be impolite to exclude the commander of the Metropolitan’s forces in his own citadel, even if those forces were militarily irrelevant. And of course Doctor John Dee, who couldn’t be kept out of anything interesting.

  At one point both Father Juniper and Father Roric had joined the council, but both had gotten bored as our military grew more professional and the discussions moved outside their field of expertise.

  It was a smart, tough, experienced team, but we seemed to have trouble actually getting things done. Somehow an army that could make snap decisions in the field settled into a kind of bureaucratic inertia in garrison. Even with the nebulous threat of Yoshana hanging over us.

  I caught a glimpse of Cat as Tolf shut the door behind Prophetess. The soldier let out a long sigh of relief.

  “This is just about the only place Prophetess and I can go without that damn paleo shadowing us. The girl takes her bodyguarding a little too seriously. And I always see her sizing me up, like she’s planning to replace me. If I don’t show up for work some day, you’ll know she’s slit my throat in my sleep.”

  “Nah,” I said. “That would be too obvious. She’d cut you open, pull out your guts, and wear you like a suit of armor. No one would ever know until she talked.”

  Tolf shivered theatrically. “Thanks for that. Now I’m never going to be able to sleep again.”

  “Cut it out, you two,” Prophetess snapped. Lago looked stern and disapproving. Dee and Hake both chuckled nervously. The occultist was just a bit frightened of Cat. Hake knew her well enough to wonder how seriously to take my joke.

  The slight paleo girl was a killer who could give Pious or Railes a run for their money, but she was smart and quick and had become devoted to Prophetess. In a war where the other side could send in a shape-shifting assassin or a murderous thread of Darkness, the paleo’s preternatural senses and vicious instincts were the best defense we had.

  At least since I’d given up the Darkness.

  “Have we heard anything from Rockwall or the Monolith?” I asked even before everyone was seated. It was rude, but my mind was still churning with unhappy thoughts of strategy. I was starting to get the gnawing feeling that we didn’t have a lot of time for pleasantries and formality.

  Heads shook around the table. That was no surprise. We’d sent emissaries in the fall, before winter made travel a matter of life or death. Nearly six months later we’d heard nothing.

  The good news was there had been no irate demands for the return of the troops that had pledged themselves to Our Lady. The bad news was no reinforcements had been offered either. My best guess was that Rockwall and the Monolith were each hedging their bets, willing to sacrifice a brigade to stop Yoshana from reaching their borders, but wanting plausible deniability if she did.

  “So we have just under seven thousand men.” We had nearly a thousand more who had been badly wounded in the Battle of the Cleansing, who’d lived but were crippled, who’d lost limbs or eyes, or just the will to fight. I forced myself to visit the infirmary sometimes, even though it always made me feel guilty. Because it always made me feel guilty. Some of those men I’d put there myself.

  “Yoshana’s got three thousand of her original veterans,” I continued. “We know Stephen neglected his army, but she’s had over a year to recruit, equip, and train them. So assume at least twenty thousand more from the Source, probably better armed and better trained than us by now.”

  Lago bowed his head formally and said, “Judge Minos, with respect, we have known this for months. What has changed that makes you convene this group so urgently?”

  “Two things.” I copied Father Roric and held up a finger. “First, I’ve just been reminded of my duty to minimize losses on both sides, not to mention among our civilians.”

  I took a deep breath and raised another finger. “Second, it’s become obvious to me that the Rockwall and Monolith troops aren’t cooperating effectively and won’t be by the time the spring campaign season begins.”

  I was expecting an argument. I was half hoping for a loud assurance that I was wrong. Instead the two commanders exchanged sheepish looks and reluctantly nodded.

  Great.

  “I’m afraid you’re right, Minos.” Hake had been my commanding officer too long for my title to come easily to his lips. I didn't mind. “BlackShield Lago’s forces have excellent discipline, and I suppose we’d expected that to make integration easy. But I’m afraid their very unit cohesion, combined with the religious differences, are in fact making it quite difficult for us to work together.”

  Lago looked like he’d bitten a lemon. Hake had managed to compliment the BlackShield’s troops while suggesting the problems were all their fault. It was an obnoxious move, but I had to admire it.

  The truth was, the issues were on both sides. The Monolith soldiers were pious Josephites. They revered Prophetess personally after many of them had witnessed her cast the Darkness out of me, but they weren’t entirely comfortable serving the Universal Church.

  On the other hand, the Rockwall troops lacked the discipline of their Monolith counterparts. They were veterans with generally decent officers and acceptable readiness, but, feeling more secure in Our Lady, they had been known to taunt and pick fights with Lago’s men.

  As I’d observed earlier, keeping the soldiers in their old units ins
tead of mixing them had been a mistake, but one I’d seen too late.

  “All right, Minos,” Prophetess cut in. “What’s the solution? I assume you didn’t just call us here to complain.”

  I glared at her. In fact, I had no solution. I’d hoped someone would offer one, or at least commiserate.

  Waspishly, I said, “You might try praying harder. We’re going to need a miracle and that’s your department, not mine.”

  Tolf interjected quickly, “C’mon, Minos. It can’t be as bad as all that. Even if they’ve got us outnumbered three to one, that’s not bad odds when we’re behind these walls.”

  I sighed. “We could hold the walls with half as many. And we might be better off. Once the siege starts and the townspeople flood in here, it’s going to start getting awfully hungry. Seven thousand troops eat a lot. We’ve gone through most of the winter reserve already. If she hits us before the crops come in - and I don’t see why she wouldn’t - she can just park her army outside and starve us out. We’ve got too many troops to garrison and too few to sally. And that’s setting aside how miserable she can make us with the Darkness.”

  I looked at Lago. “What I did to you when we were enemies? She has at least three masters of the Darkness that are stronger than I was, and a lot less squeamish about how they use it.”

  Tolf and Lago both looked a little green. Hake seemed more composed, but he’d expected Lago’s forces to kill us at the Battle of the Cleansing. He’d told me he considered every day after that to be a gift.

  Dee said cheerfully, “Then we’d better start thinking outside the box, hadn’t we?”

  Easier said than done. When I had been fighting the Monolith, we’d been mobile, with momentum and surprise on our side. Now we were a sitting target, defending a fixed location against a superior enemy. The vast infrastructure of Our Lady could hold five times as many men, but we didn’t have them and if we had, we couldn’t feed them. Half an hour of discussion yielded no revelations. As it became increasingly obvious we were getting nowhere, the various members of the Ministry began to excuse themselves. In the end, only Prophetess and I remained.