Empire of the Saviours (Chronicles of/Cosmic Warlord 1) (29 page)

The rock beneath the dark place wasn’t like any she’d encountered before. It tingled when she passed through it, not unpleasantly but as if she were being
touched
. It was like when Norfred had used to stroke and talk softly to her in order to calm one of her bouts of frustration or rage. There was some sort of feeling in the rock here, but it wasn’t a bad feeling of evil intent as she might have expected of this dark place; rather, it was a feeling of
sadness
. She wondered how rock could feel sad. Did the rock not like the heavy men? No, that could not be it, for the heavy men didn’t really have any effect on the rock, did they?

She sensed an unoccupied gap beneath the dark place and stepped into it. There was absolute darkness here, so she could sense her surroundings quite clearly. There was no way in or out of the chamber, for the likes of the heavy men anyway, who could not move through rock. There may once have been a door out at the top of some stairs, but there was now a heavy slab of stone sealing it off. The slab emitted a high-pitched whine almost beyond her hearing and she decided that even she might have trouble passing through it.

The chamber was empty except for four large rocks or crystals in the middle. One she recognised as being of the same stone as the jade dragon she’d seen in her dream, but the others were types of stone she had not encountered before. People like Norfred would have described them by their colours – green, red, yellow and blue – but to her each one had a different resonance or feel. Like the slab over the door, each of the four stones emitted a whine or buzz, their different pitches creating a harmony of sorts.

The drone, or music, of the four stones relaxed her, and her eyes became heavy. Before she knew it, she was entering some sort of trance or sleep. She dreamed, but whether it was her dream or the ancient memories of the stones, she did not know. She saw people in simple clothing visiting this chamber and asking questions of the stones or praying. An old man wearing a jade amulet round his neck, a yellow stone at his forehead and a red and blue stone at each wrist seemed to be leading and guiding the people, like some sort of Overseer. No, the people knew him as a priest of Gar of the Still Stone. This was his temple. The priest helped the People commune with the stones, and through them commune with … the rock god, and through the rock god commune with … commune with … the Geas! The glorious Geas that was the communion of all living things in this world! Through the Geas, one person was connected to everyone else. Through the Geas, a person was truly one of the People and truly at one with the People. Without it, there was no
People
, only eternal isolation and selfishness, eternal loneliness and despair, the eternal void and desolation. Without it, there was only the desire for oblivion and nothingness.

Now, through the shared memories, Freda could read some of the patterns and symbols on the walls of the temple. They seemed to be telling her where to find Haven and the Geas! Yet she could not understand all the instructions, for many of the symbols still did not make sense.

‘I don’t understand!’ she cried.

The priest turned to her with a kindly smile, but there was a haunted and ominous look about his eyes. ‘You must find and free the other three temples. Commune with and free Wayfar, Akwar and Sinisar. Their shared knowledge will interpret the symbols for you and help you find Haven, but be quick, child of the rock god!’

There was a rumbling sound and the temple shook. People fell to the floor and cried out for help. There were terrible screams outside the temple as children and adults alike were slaughtered. The priest pitched forward and split his brow on one of the four stones. Blood poured down his face.

‘What is happening?’ Freda wailed.

‘They are coming!’ The priest grimaced as he used his power to begin dragging the horizontal stone slab across the door to the subterranean temple. ‘They seek to possess the Geas for themselves. You must be quick, child of the rock god, for they are hunting you now. You must not let yourself be diverted from the path or taken by them, for time is short. They are almost upon you!’

As the slab closed across the doorway, the light and the dream began to fade.

‘Wait!’ Freda begged. ‘Don’t leave me on my own!’

The priest smiled at her with pity as his eyes became blackened and empty hollows. His skin wasted away as he said with his last breath, ‘Simply know that you are no monster, child of the rock god. You are a part of the Geas. There are others you may find if you are lucky, but those you know as the Overlords have corrupted almost all of them. We are so few, so few. Beware, for the Overlords are always watching and miss nothing. Stay hidden, child of the rock god, or all will be lost.’

The slab finally slammed home and all was darkness once more.

The pain in Aspin’s shoulders was excruciating. He’d been chained and hung by his arms for hours, and now he could feel them slowly being pulled out of their sockets. His torso had also been stretched by his own body weight, so that it was harder and harder to breathe.

‘Dying,’ he croaked. ‘Help!’

‘Quiet down there!’ called a voice. ‘Or we’ll gag you again.’

‘Dying. The holy one won’t be happy. Wants to question me.’

There was no immediate response as the guards debated whether they could be bothered to leave their warm brazier to come down and check on him. Aspin prayed that their fear of the Saint was greater than the desire to keep warm. After all, the Saint was a terrifying being.

When the Saint had entered the cell earlier that day Aspin had naturally sought to read his soul. His mind had recoiled so violently from the twisted vileness he found that he’d been unable to prevent himself vomiting down his front and onto the holy one’s feet. Children murdered, sharp metal inserted into their flesh. Mothers holding newborn babes burned for crimes that were merely imagined. A boy abused by his father using a wooden rod-like doll. Old men coming to watch, becoming aroused, then wanting to take a turn. Unspeakable acts. Degradation, humiliation and then hatred. White-hot molten hatred that spilled out of his mouth, eyes, nose, ears and other parts. Becoming nothing but that hatred – a creature intent on doing whatever was necessary to see its hatred visited upon those responsible and then any who did not submit to its will. Bowing without a care to the Saviours so that it would have even greater power to visit its hatred on others. Slaughter. Raping others of their power so that its hatred could become greater than any other’s. Becoming stronger and hungrier with every horrific act. A hunger so great now that it wanted to devour the world, crunch on its bones and suck its marrow dry. It would sodomise and then destroy the Geas, singing softly in its ear all the while, as its father had sometimes done when using the wooden doll. But the boy had escaped! Jillan had escaped! He must be found before the acts of hatred could be exposed or betrayed to the Saviours. The boy had to be found so that he could be abused in the dark again. The only thing that could still terrify the hatred was the boy being free. The boy! The boy!

There was a heavy footstep on the stairs and Aspin gasped in fear.

Jillan crouched in the darkness listening to the two Heroes talking by the brazier. Their breath clouded in the cold air as they spoke.

‘… as strong as an ox, he was, but collapsed on the ground, unable to get up and as weak as a babe. Lot of his hair come out though he were young. Teeth too, rotted before my own eyes. Tears of blood. No one would go near him. Blacksmith he was, in the marketplace.’

‘Plague, then?’ whispered the other, making the pagan sign – which was forbidden but used by everyone – against the evil eye.

‘Aye, they say so. Just like in Godsend.’

‘Shh! Keep your voice down. That’s not to be spoken of. The wind and darkness will hear you.’

‘Huh! That’s just an old pagan superstition,’ replied the first, although he prudently lowered his voice.

‘Whichever, the holy one always knows, and he don’t want us talking of it.’

The first sighed in frustration. ‘All I’m saying is we pulled the short straw coming here after all. There was some of us laughing at the half-dozen that was chosen by the Captain to accompany the parents to Hyvan’s Cross, while we was all getting excited about coming to Saviours’ Paradise to see the dancing girls. And see what happens! We end up freezing our noses and burning our balls guarding some puking peasant in a town awash with plague.’

The second shrugged fatalistically. ‘As we’s always told – the blessed Saviours will find a way to punish those not thinking firstly of their proper duty and sacrifice.’

The first spat out a breath. ‘S’pose so at that. Just had a bad thought, though, entered my head. Think it’s more punishment for me, ’tis.’

‘What is it then?’ the second asked with obvious trepidation.

‘Mayhap I shouldn’t tell it, as then it’ll be punishment for you too. It’ll spread from me to you, just like a plague, see. Saviours help me, but it’s already too late.’

‘What? What is it?’

‘Don’t you see? The plague! I just told it. What if the puking peasant we’s guarding is puking precisely because he has the plague? With the unhealthy air and spirits hereabouts, the foul vapours that must cling to yonder stocks and gibbet, is it any surprise that the peasant has the contagion? By my thinking, it’s now done for us as well, Saviours protect us!’

‘Listen!’ squeaked the second in fright. ‘What’s that?’

‘Dying,’ moaned a disembodied voice. ‘Help!’

The second’s jaw moved up and down but no sound came out, so great was his terror. The first chuckled. ‘Calm down. I was just giving you a turn with all that talk. Wait till I tell the others.’ He sniffed and smiled. ‘Peed yourself too, I reckon. It’s just the puking peasant, nothing more.’ Then he raised his voice. ‘Quiet down there or we’ll gag you again.’

‘Dying. Holy one won’t be happy. Wants to question me,’ came the voice from below.

‘What think you?’ The first sighed. ‘Best one of us go down there to see he’s not puking himself to death.’

‘But the contagion.’

‘Hmm. If we were gonna get it, then I reckon we already have, coming to this cursed town and all. Tell you what, I’ll toss you for it.’

‘Don’t bother,’ replied the second. ‘My luck’s so bad I already know I’ve lost, especially when it’s you tossing the coin.’

Jillan crept away, having heard all he needed. It seemed his parents had been taken to Hyvan’s Cross, of all places, where the Saint’s main temple was located. It would be a long and dangerous journey and even harder to get inside undetected, but what other choice did he have? He wasn’t about to let his parents die in a punishment chamber like the youth, not without trying to save them. And it was completely wrong that they should be locked up for his crimes. They were innocent. It was his fault, all his fault. Even if it cost him his life, he was determined to make it up to them.

The youth was his fault too. And dying. How many people would he be responsible for killing before it was over? Despite his insistence to the taint that he wouldn’t kill anyone who was innocent, he would be doing just that if he didn’t try to set the youth free. It was of course risky, but it seemed that the Saint wanted something from the youth, just like he wanted something from Jillan. If Jillan could deny the Saint the youth, then … then what? No, he wouldn’t exchange the youth for his parents. So? He wasn’t sure. It would certainly frustrate the Saint and perhaps cause the holy one to make a mistake, just like Haal, Elder Corin’s son, would always make the mistake of rushing blindly at Jillan when teased. If the Saint made a mistake, then maybe it would be easier to free his parents. Maybe.

The wind carried another of the youth’s cries to his ears.

Freda lay in the bedrock beneath the dark place, wondering at the strangeness of her existence. What did she know of gods and old temples? What was the Geas really? Strange words and ideas, none of which had helped her when she’d needed help in her life.

Why were the Overlords chasing her? It wasn’t fair! She felt guilty as she remembered that she’d killed men, but she hadn’t meant to, and they’d forced her to do it. And they’d killed Norfred! Well, it wasn’t exactly the men she’d killed who’d done for Norfred; that had been Darus. Maybe she’d done wrong after all.

But they kept confusing her with their threats and orders. Darus had told her what to do, and now so did the rock god. Both had threatened her. She was tempted just to avoid others for the rest of her days, but they hunted her, even in her dreams. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?

The only one who hadn’t told her what to do was Norfred. He’d told her she deserved more than cruel treatment. She deserved to be free of people like Darus and the frightening jade dragon of the rock god’s fabulous will. Norfred hadn’t ordered her to find Jan – he’d only asked that if she happened to see him she should tell Jan that Norfred had loved him. And so she would find Jan for Norfred and then worry about everything else.

She felt and listened to all the comings and goings above her. Heavy men marched backwards and forwards, shaking the ground with their intent and orders. The children from the wagon she’d been following were inspected by one of the heavy men. Half the children were sent to put on dead skin and become heavy, while the others, mainly the lighter females, were told to get back in the wagon.

Before putting on the dead skin, the children that were to become heavy visited a woman who asked them questions and checked that they were well. She sounded kind and reminded her of Mistress Widders. Freda moved closer.

When the woman was finally alone in her overground chamber, Freda climbed out of the ground behind her.

‘I am Freda,’ she said in her lightest tone, making her throat hurt.

The woman stifled a scream and whirled round. ‘Oh! You startled me! Where did you … Saviours preserve us, but I’ve never seen the condition so bad or advanced. Are you in pain? Would you like me to give you something for it?’

Freda blinked as she tried to decipher the woman’s sounds and questions. Her voice reminded Freda of one of the caged birds that the miners had used to check for invisible gas. Perhaps the woman had such a bird inside her now checking for gas. No, that would be silly. The feathers would tickle too much. ‘It hurt when a shining spear went in me here,’ Freda said slowly, pointing to the shoulder where Overseer Altor’s weapon had impaled her.