3212 A.G. (After Gods), the Deeves, planet An’kuruku.
The sprawling pilgrim camp hadn’t had a moments rest since the beleaguered Jut had arrived with news of the approaching Prefect army. Many had already fled in panic, fearful that the Prophet wouldn’t be able to protect them. Small fights and riots were breaking out, and Mollock Bolle was yet to be seen. The cultists had managed little in pacifying the growing sense of fear tearing the camp apart.
Sunset was particularly brilliant. Orange and golden light ripped through the storm-blackened sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air smelled fresh, cleansed by a million drops of rain washing the dirt and filth away.
Mollock stood on the rocky shore, head titled back. He was drenched but unwilling to leave this personal sanctum. Eyes closed, he enjoyed the feel of the wind tickling his long, unkempt beard. His hair, now down past his shoulders and nearly all silver, dripped remnants of the storm. The sound of gulls feeding was as music to his tormented soul.
Mollock wanted a way out, needed to return to obscurity and forget the madness of the cult of Rengu and especially Kaline. The lies came easily enough. A façade to hide behind while he struggled to understand his position. He wasn’t sure if he believed what he told the crowds. Lies were faster. A more elaborate conclusion to the whispered prayers of the bereft. Each time he spoke from the rocks his honor diminished.
His life was a tragedy played out again and again when he looked into the eyes of those foolish enough to find faith in his words. He was a charlatan, a fraud with no convictions or moral boundaries. The lies left his lips too easily. They poisoned everyone, including himself. Mollock tried to remember a time when his life had been simple, when he had been a mere fugitive with unlawful knowledge. Those days were vague memories now, faded and blurred beyond recognition. Circumstance had changed him into a powerful figure with no real influence. Try as he did to change or ignore it, he was a puppet in a dangerous game. Puppets never survived to the end of the tale.
“Don’t you ever grow weary of standing on these abominable stones?”
He frowned, the purity of the moment shattered among the rocks. “Kaline. I only grow weary of being disturbed when I most wish to be alone.”
She ignored the rebuke. “I didn’t come out here to bandy ill-spoken words, Mollock.”
“Those seem to be the only type of words we know how to exchange,” he replied.
“Regardless, there is trouble looming. You’ve heard the army of the Prefecture is en route?”
He sighed, lowering his head and turning to face her. “It was inevitable. You’ve spurred a rebellion. The powers that be have no choice but to retaliate. This is not the first time I’ve witnessed such. Our troubles on Crimeat seem to have been just the beginning. Has the Conclave gotten involved yet?”
“No. They are strangely absent, as if their masters on Vau Prime gave implicit instructions to remain neutral. I don’t care for the current situation.”
He wanted to laugh. “A situation you clearly intended to create. Look at the masses you vehemently claim have gathered to hear me rant against the Conclave and the very gods themselves! The audacity of it is staggering. Did you really think you could outwit the most powerful organization in the history of humanity? Or get away with insulting the deity structure that we’ve relied on for thousands of years without suspicion or jealousy? You’ve played a dangerous game, Kaline, and put us all in jeopardy. I never should have come here.”
“You didn’t have a choice. The Prefecture was already closing in on you when my agents rescued you from the streets of Tenemenah. Don’t try to convince me of false innocence. You’re as guilty of leading these people and keeping them here as I. We both serve different tyrants, Mollock Bolle. Your hands are about to be stained in blood the same as mine.”
He couldn’t help his eyes bulging, the whites straining against the violent backdrop. “Blood? I’ll atone for my crimes after I die, but not for the thousands of people you’ve led to their doom in this godless wasteland. Don’t you dare lump me in with your villainy.”
“Villainy?” She laughed, light and melodious. “What have I done to spark this newfound suspicion? I have done nothing but be your friend and ally since getting you away from the Prefecture.”
“Perhaps a prison cell would have been a better fate than this,” he gestured towards the panicked camp.
“You never would have made it that far. I know Lezorsu. He’d have taken you down a back alley and executed you without question. This, which you have already abandoned as a doomed cause, is the birth of a new freedom these people would never have known without hearing the confidence of your words. All their lives were being wasted under the oppression of alleged leadership with the good of everyone in mind. When has the Conclave ever been your friend? When have you ever felt comfortable enough to go to the local Inquisition office with concerns for your spiritual wellbeing?
“I already know your answer. It’s the same as mine. Never. The Conclave and Inquisition have strayed far from their founding principles. They no longer serve the people, instead keeping us ignorant to the truth. The truth that you discovered for yourself beneath the black mountains of the Plateau fifty years ago. A truth they’ve tried to have you silenced over, time and again.
“How much more can anyone take before the breaking point is crossed? How many lines need to be shattered by false justice and empty rhetoric before the people rise up and take back what rightfully belongs to them? That is what they have come here for. Not because you have a golden tongue. You, me, any other random person. It doesn’t matter who stands before them and speaks the words their hearts yearn so badly to hear. Will you deny them that?”
She fell silent, her chest rising and falling much faster now. Her face was flushed. The impassioned plea had come from the heart, unrehearsed and raw. Kaline hoped it would be enough to keep him in check, at least for a while longer.
Mollock might have been moved if not for the decades of constantly looking over his shoulder, checking every shadow. He’d learned not to trust, and that skill set had kept him alive for all that time. What little of his core remained was shelled and callous. Friendship had become anathema, an unnecessary tie to humanity that would only serve to hasten his demise. The closest thing he had to a friend was Elisa.
Thinking of her brought a thin smile to his concealed lips. She’d come to him in the Ugri lands with murderous intent, clearly making her more enemy than friend. Still, she was able to understand his position, whether from her own personal experiences with the gods and their bastard sons or from keeping a level head throughout their ordeal. Reluctantly, he was forced to admit that her involvement was all his fault. Without his little survival ploy in the Ugri prison cell, she never would have gone to Reven — never would have seen the truth for herself.
His twisting of the truth, just enough to intrigue Elisa to the point where she couldn’t resist going to see for herself what nightmares had spawned the Bloody Man and the other Three, was all it had taken to eventually lead them here to planet An’kuruku and the budding insurrection of the Deeves. Immense sorrow filled his heart. Mollock lacked the conviction to continue. It was an old crisis of faith holding him back, keeping him from achieving his full potential. He suddenly found himself hating his life.
There was darkness crowding in on him. What little control he had over himself was fading into obscurity, gripping his soul tighter with each passing day. He desperately needed a way out, a final solution absolving him of his sins and crimes. Mollock believed only his death would achieve that inglorious goal. More than once, he gave serious thought to ending his life here on the ancient rocks where he felt most secure. The temptation quickly turned into a compulsion.
It wouldn’t take much, a whispered prayer and a quick jump to the waiting rocks below. Perhaps they would accept him where the rest of humanity found it so casual to abandon him, to use him as a puppet rather than a friend. His thankless life was sadly friendless, and it made his soul weep for better days. All it would take was just one final jump.
“When have I ever been given a choice? Life has conspired against me, forcing me into deepening wells of confusion and emptiness. There is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise, Kaline. I have finally reached the bottom.”
She saw the raw desperation in his face, the choking sorrow in his words, and realized any chance of maintaining the presumption of his salvation was quickly disappearing. Kaline reached out to him, a warm hand caressing his forearm. “You’re not alone, Mollock. There’s no reason for despair. Every great hero must overcome challenges specific to his nature. This will —”
“Hero?” It was his turn to laugh. “I am many things; hero is not among them. Look around you, Kaline. My life is a fragment of what might have been.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s unbecoming for a grown man, especially one who has lived through the things you have. A war is coming, not of our choosing. Crying over it won’t change the fact that very soon we will be forced to defend ourselves.”
“Against a trained and zealous army? The Prefects will wipe this merry encampment out to the last child, and you’ll be left with a sea of bones for as far as the eye can see.”
She stiffened. “One of their own trains able-bodied volunteers as we speak. We are not as defenseless as you would make us out.”
Mollock cocked his head, studying her. There was something odd he couldn’t quite place — and then it hit him. “You’re not staying.”
“No. The work I have begun here is larger than just the people of the Deeves. I have sparked a hundred fires on a hundred worlds. Soon, the revolution will come. An’kuruku is just the beginning, a testing ground, if you will,” she admitted blandly.
His mouth dropped open. “All of these people duped into a lie. Murderer.”
“I give them hope where they had none before! This is the shape of the future, Mollock Bolle. Or should I call you by the name these cattle use? The madman on the rocks. You saw what becomes of insurrections on your homeworld. Why should this be any different?”
“You were there? On Lethendweil during the war?”
She nodded. “Briefly. Ideations like that don’t just happen. The spark must come from somewhere deep inside that men can find personal faith in. I merely assisted.”
Mollock dropped his head in shame. “Leave me. If we are to die, I wish it to be in peace. I don’t want my last sight to be your gods damned face.”
Biting her lip, Kaline turned and stormed off. She briefly wondered if this was the last time she was going to see him alive.
For most of the camp, sunset was nothing but the clock slowly ticking away what little time remained before the hammer of the Prefecture struck. Fewer fires burned in the whispered hopes of being unnoticed. The old thought it all foolish. Death and hatred knew no mortal bounds. They warned the Prefects would come in like the grim angels of retribution, scything souls down like so much wheat. The young and brave scoffed and waved their elders off. What did the old and infirm know? They already had a foot in the grave and were jealous of the young.
Bodies were discovered almost hourly, but with no formal law enforced, there was little concern. Most were trampled underfoot. Elisa sat in the Bone Father’s tent with her head cradled in her hands. No stranger to violence, she’d regretfully been forced to kill a pair of would-be brigands trying to get rich off the ancient man. Enough people had witnessed the act to prevent others from attempting the same. Not everyone in the camp was without teeth.
“This is madness,” the Bone Father lamented. “How could we have fallen so far?”
“People will do anything when they think the end has finally come. Don’t hold them so tightly in your judgment.”
Paradise Tear stirred behind them. Her immense size was barely contained within the tent. “I have seen this too many times before. First comes inescapable panic. Many will perish without a shot ever being fired. After that comes betrayal. Men will turn on each other in the hopes that they will be spared. It won’t matter. The coming storm will engulf them all and leaving nothing alive. Humanity learned nothing from our mistakes.”
The sorrow in her voice tore at Elisa. How many more souls needed to be ruined in the name of an empty cause? Hardships were to be expected in life, even embraced, but no one deserved to live under the iron blanket of fear and hatred. Whatever violence Elisa had seen over the course of her life was infinitesimal compared to the forced genocide of Paradise’s race. Now the remnants of a once proud and powerful race had returned to bring humanity to its knees. Elisa was beginning to believe she was witnessing the end of humanity. It seemed an injustice for Paradise to have to go through the same event a second time.
“What can we do?” she asked suddenly, staring at a small blood stain on the tent flap. “These people are scared, and they have every reason to be. The Prefects will not be gentle — not if the man I think is leading their army.”
The Bone Father got up and began to pace. “I feel responsible.”
“Nonsense. You can’t control this situation any more than you can another’s life,” Elisa admonished. “These aren’t your people anymore, Bone Father. Let me take you and Paradise away from here.”
“We can’t leave,” they both answered in unison.
Elisa lifted her head. She’d expected his protests, but not hers. “You, I understand, but what do you mean, Paradise?”
The giant smiled sadly. “You were told to seek me out, but not why. It is time you learned that truth. I am more than just a survivor of my species. I am the hope for rebirth. Tannus hid me from everyone else, especially Amongeratix, when he realized the war was going badly. He was the one who took our people and placed them in sleeping chambers on every world in the known universe. His brother knew this and tried to stop it. He was too late. Tannus had already saved as many of us as he could before imbibing my essence with the ability to awaken our people.”
“Is it possible that all of this is to get at you?” Elisa asked.
Paradise shook her head. “No. Apart from the Bone Father, no one knows of my true nature. He found me floating in my stasis tube when I crashed on this world. There is something more sinister at work in the Deeves.”
Elisa turned and looked the Bone Father in the eyes. “I need to get you out of here. The Prefect army is coming with one purpose: to kill everyone. She and I can take care of ourselves, but I am worried about you.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking me feeble just because I am old,” he snapped back, putting her in her place. “My task is not yet accomplished. Mollock Bolle has much to answer for. I will see him pay for the perversions he encouraged in my charges.”
“You’ll never get through all of the cult’s security. They keep him locked away for reasons just like that. Your best bet is to get into space and blow him away from orbit.”
“Space? I’ve never left the Deeves, and you expect me to travel into the heavens? No. This is my home, and if I die defending, it so be it. I have made peace with that decision.”
Elisa wanted to throw up her hands in frustration but knew it would have no effect. He was just as stubborn as she. Options severely reduced, she decided to throw in with him and see what they could accomplish. “How do we get into those ruins? You could have picked an easier target. Kaline won’t let him out once the Prefects attack.”
“A fact I’m counting on. When the attack does come, there will be absolute chaos here. No one will be paying much attention to anyone but themselves, making it easy for an old man to slip through the defenses and do what needs to be done.”
Elisa had to admit it was a simple and probable plan. Her only issue was in whether they’d have time to find Mollock. Any hope she’d once reserved of finding him alive and getting him to safety had died the first time she’d listened to his rant against the Conclave and the gods. Heresy was punishable by death under the codes of the Inquisition, but what he spoke was akin to open rebellion. The venom lacing his words showed her he had crossed the line, and there was no returning. The Mollock Bolle she had known and spent two years with was dead, replaced by the twisted image standing before these people inciting rebellion and promising the ultimate freedom. She didn’t want to believe Mollock was the monster whispered about, but until she confronted him directly…
Killing Mollock wouldn’t solve the problems plaguing the Deeves. If anything, he was already a relic. Whatever incendiary fervor Kaline had given birth to, it was destined to be consumed by an even greater mechanism. Lezorsu and his army was coming to purge the desert with their own brand of holy fire. The righteous, if ever there was a thing, were about to do battle. But over what? Elisa couldn’t figure that out. There was nothing here but sand and wind.
“Who is going to do it?” she asked slowly, as if afraid of the answer.
The Bone Father sighed and spoke his words clearly so that there would be no misunderstanding. “I must atone for my laxity. I will do it. No one else need stain their hands, or souls, by the filth of the deed.”
Part of her felt instant relief. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to kill Mollock before and had even turned against the man who had hired her. Not that they’d ever been friends, but Mollock didn’t pose any threat to her. Now. She shook her head. Now, it just didn’t make sense how any one man could get so caught up in false prose that he lost sight of his original intent.
“Doesn’t that violate some stricture of faith?”
He offered a smile. “I’m no clergyman, young lady. Don’t worry about me. I can do what needs doing.”
Elisa fell silent. There wasn’t anything left to be said. The three of them had just conspired to commit murder, which was ridiculous given their current circumstance. Death was almost a given, regardless of the means. Murder had become another empty word that held no meaning. Only the smallest part of her conscience protested. Some part of her still sought a way to escape this with Mollock alive.
As if reading her mind, the Bone Father placed a calloused, wrinkled hand on her knee. “Just because I know what needs to be done doesn’t mean I am at peace with the decision. No man should be killed, even though we all die, but that doesn’t change the fact that a great evil has been delivered to the people of the Deeves. It falls upon what good remains to search for redemption and, possibly, salvation before all is lost and the light dims to black.”
Something within her stirred. Emotions that had been repressed for too long surged against their restraints, desperately trying to break through and be known. She nearly succumbed, so strong was the raw power. Her eyes watered, and it was all she could do to keep from letting those tears pour out in a river of unchecked feelings.
The Bone Father smiled, as did Paradise. Both knew all too well how hard times had become. It was no easy thing admitting to oneself that it was all right to cry, to feel joy or sorrow, to stand under the morning sun and be at peace. Elisa hadn’t given in to her emotions since the night the Bloody Man had slaughtered her village.
“It’s alright, you know,” he confided in her. “Crying does more than just make our eyes sore. We should all have an emotional outlet. You, especially.”
Paradise smiled. “I don’t profess to know the future, but I can promise to do my best to protect you in so far as I’m able.”
It was enough; it had to be. Too much depended on Elisa surviving for anything less. Above all, she had to get to Occanum. The pressure was almost too much, and she decided to step outside and get what little fresh air dared hover over the filth of the ever-growing encampment. The time was fast approaching when the endgame would be played out. She doubted if she’d make it to Occanum.
Jut watched the hundreds of peasants drill on the open field with passive disgust. They lacked precision, skill and, most importantly, basic ability. Most, if not all, would prove no match for the disciplined Prefect army. Wars were won through will as much as sheer brutality. Jut shook his head. These people had no idea what they were getting into. And he was going to be standing beside them when the worst happened.
“You disapprove?” Kaline’s soft voice asked.
He turned, watching her stroll up beside him. She might have been beautiful at another time. He smirked and shook his head again, shamed at the thought. “They don’t stand a chance.”
“You might be surprised. They know life and death are in the balance. We are capable of extraordinary feats when backed into a corner.”
“Nothing you or I do is going to change the fact that a lot of blood is going to be spilled here,” he replied blankly.
Kaline shrugged. “Perhaps because it is supposed to be shed. Who among us can claim to know the will of the gods?”
“I place no faith in the gods. They’ve abandoned me at every turn. Best they keep to themselves and leave me alone.”
She regarded him softy, her deep eyes studying the former Prefect. He was an invaluable resource, provided he maintained his composure. Kaline knew all too well that most of the people here were going to die. It was all part of the plan — a plan she couldn’t disclose to anyone until she was positive they were entirely on her side. The war here on An’kuruku was just the beginning. Her last communication with Vau Prime suggested all was going according to schedule. Soon, the entire universe would know the truth of what she was destined to accomplish. All would kneel in praise of a new master.
“I’ve found that we place too much value on the wants and desires of beings no one has been able to prove still exist,” she confided. “It’s past time mankind learned to stand on its own two feet.”
“If only we could. The Conclave and Inquisition drive everything. We don’t think but what we are told to.” Jut looked back to the masses. Instead of proper lines and standard formations, he saw only a rabble clumped together. Prefecture energy weapons would make short work of large groups. He had much to do and nearly no time left in which to do it.
“There is a change coming, Jut. Can’t you feel it?” she pressed, eager to discover if his heart followed his mind.
He snorted. “Change is seldom the kind we wish for. If we’re done, these people need to learn more before they’re all killed.”
He stormed down the gentle slope, bellowing orders and shouting at the sweat- and grime-covered masses. Kaline watched him intently. Mollock Bolle had served his purpose and was now obsolete. She began to see Jut as the man to replace him in the coming struggle. Now, all she needed to do was ensure he survived long enough.
Prefect Lezorsu stood beside his command vehicle and slowly poured his canteen over his head. The cool water sizzled as it struck the heated flesh of his face. Days were becoming much too long for his liking. The casual comforts of Tenemenah were lost during the hot marches and short nights. Insects and arachnids assailed them constantly. Too many to bother counting had already been lost to a number of hazards. More than a hundred had died to heat exhaustion alone. The army was starting to grow demoralized, forcing him to send Prefects through the ranks to eliminate dissenters and firebrands. Lezorsu felt control of his army slowly slipping and wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Prefect Lezorsu, are you there?”
Lezorsu growled at the interruption before clicking on his transmitter. “What, Pey? I’m in no mood for your comments.”
The momentary silence told him all he needed to know. “Our scouts report they have arrived within visual range of the heretic camp. How do you wish me to proceed?”
At last! A genuine grin, the first he’d had since leaving Tenemenah. “Continue your report.”
“The heretic camp is large, much larger than we previously believed. I put their numbers somewhere between seven and ten thousand. It looks like a large body is conducting some sort of combat drill in one of the nearby fields. Not much to worry about, judging from what I see. An abandoned castle sits directly behind it, against the shores of the Bo. Their command structure should be situated within. The perimeter lacks any formal defenses, at least as far as I can tell. We shouldn’t have too much trouble hitting them head-on.”
Lezorsu forced himself not to give the command to attack. His enemy was commonly judged simple and backwoods by most of the more civilized, but he knew better than to underestimate his opponents. The hammer blow needed to fall in concert with his overall plan, and, sadly, he wasn’t in the position to engage yet. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let the heretics know he was breathing down their necks.
“What size force do you have that is combat ready?” he asked, the idea already forming before the answer came.
“Five hundred,” Althas paused. “Not enough to take on a force of this size.”
Lezorsu instantly regretted placing Althas in charge of the advance. A truly brutal tactician wouldn’t have hesitated, especially knowing how his commander wanted to drown the Deeves in blood to produce a lasting memory to prevent further uprisings. “Deploy your vanguard accordingly, Prefect Pey. I want you to begin a terror campaign immediately. Eliminate as many high-ranking officials as possible. Throw their camp into complete chaos.”
“You wish me to engage with only five hundred men?”
“I wish you to obey my commands. We have a chance to break them now before the bulk of the main army arrives. Engage at your discretion. Once the artillery is in place, I will show them the true path to the underworld.”
Lezorsu clicked off his transmitter and threw it down in the sand. He turned to his adjutant with a menacing glare. “Get this fucking army moving faster. We’ve a war to fight, and I won’t be denied the glory due me.”