The Call of Kerberos Part 15

"For the mopping of one's brow." He explained. "It does get rather moist up here."

Dunsany was beginning to feel dizzy by the time they reached another door, and he was beginning to worry how Katya and Zac were coping with all the exertion. When he looked back, though, Katya sent him a rea.s.suring but tired smile and Dunsany began to pray that behind the next door would be the dining room, rather than another surreal tour of the palace service tunnels.

A staircase spiralled down and when they exited at the bottom Dunsany had to suppress a growl of anger.

The corridor in which they were now standing was lined with dirty threadbare rugs. The door on the left was the one through which they had originally entered the palace.

"Excuse me, ah, Win. But isn't that the way we came in?"

"Yes it is. But the door there leads to my quarters, and we couldn't possibly have approached it from an anticlockwise direction."

"No, no indeed." Father Maylan said. "Where would the logic have been in that?"

"Quite so, my friend." Win said, completely missing the sarcasm in the priest's voice. "Quite so. That just wouldn't have made sense."

When Win opened the door, Dunsany was relieved to see that what lay beyond was not another corridor. Instead, they followed the Archduke into a room that was warm and inviting.

A fire burned in an ornate grate in one wall, while the opposite wall held barnacle-encrusted sculptures in niches, candles placed around them filling the room with a gentle light. In the centre of the room was a low table surrounded by cushions and laden with food, all of it smelling utterly wonderful to the exhausted and famished crew.

"Please, eat." Win said, gesturing to the feast. "Do not delay on my account."

They didn't.

Only Katya held back. After taking a couple of mouthfuls of bread she turned to their host.

"Win, would you have somewhere where we can rest for a while? I'm afraid that I'm beyond exhaustion."

"Of course my dear. Please follow me."

Win led Katya, Zac and Silus from the room, returning a few moments later.

"I'm glad to see that you are enjoying the food." He said. "The palace chefs are really second to none."

"It's wonderful," Father Maylan said. "Trust me, we would get nothing like this back home."

"And where is home?"

"A land far from here. I must say I was rather glad to leave it."

"Oh really, why was that?"

"There was a conflict of faiths, let's put it that way."

"It is strange that we have never come across your land on our travels."

"Yes it is." Dunsany said. "Your entire city rides on the back of an enormous wave. There can't be any stretch of the sea that you haven't explored."

"We follow the path that the Allfather has laid down for us. But yes, there is another place. There is the Isle of the Allfather where, once a year, the path leads us, so that we may speak with Him more directly in the hope that He will call us back to His bosom."

"Well, I don't know about you fellows. But I'm confused." Jacquinto said. "Emuel, does this make any sense to you? You're pretty weird after all."

The eunuch had remained silent ever since they had disembarked from the Llothriall Llothriall which, in itself, wasn't that unusual. What was unusual, however, was that he had a smile on his face. which, in itself, wasn't that unusual. What was unusual, however, was that he had a smile on his face.

"The songs are here." He said. "Can you not hear them? The beautiful songs."

"No," Jacquinto said. "That would be just you I'm afraid."

"Win, tell us of Morat." Dunsany said. "I would really like to hear the story of your people."

Win filled his gla.s.s and, after having drank, began his story.

The Allfather - or Kerberos - had once been the home of the Moratians. But, many generations ago, some great sin had been committed against the Allfather and the people were sent out in exile from the cradle of their civilization. As to the nature of this sin, not one of the Moratian legends spoke of its origin. Maybe the shame of the ancestors was such that they had sought to erase all memory of their trespa.s.s. All the Moratians knew was that the anger of the Allfather had been so great that it had flung them into the airless gulf between worlds.

But the Allfather's anger hadn't been so great that he had abandoned his people with no hope of survival. For he had sent them out with a part of himself, an immense stone that enabled them to survive the ravages of the void.

And so - after many years of travel - they came to this world of storms and endless water.

Here the stone of the Allfather continued to guide them, shaping the waters surrounding Morat, bending the environment to the will of the people while drawing them along the decreed paths through the angry seas.

All the while the Allfather looked down on the people of Morat and his implacable face was a constant reminder of their guilt. In their ceremonies the high-priests channelled the remorse of the people; crying out to their creator in prayer and song, their hunger to return a fire that burned at the centre of their worship.

Once a year, the path that Morat followed through the dark waters brought it within sight of a small island. The Allfather seemed to hang lower and larger in the sky over this land and some people claimed that they could even make out his true face. So, it was decided that here they would build a temple in his name.

Slowly - year after year - the stones were laid. The masons worked only four days at a time, which was as long as Morat remained within view of the island, and when the temple was completed the builders had to return swiftly to their home, before it disappeared out of sight over the horizon.

The people of Morat then had to wait a whole year to christen the temple with their praise. A whole year before the currents brought them again within sight of the island.

On the first Festival of the Allfather the gathered people looked up - up through the great round hole in the temple roof that seemed to cradle their G.o.d - and sang their praises and their lamentations. And the high priests, through the use of a certain sacred lichen, freed their souls from their bodies, so that they flew through the Allfather's endless clouds where they could commune with him more directly.

But the Allfather still did not call the people of Morat home.

Yet they did not despair, for they had found a place where they could be closer to their G.o.d. Therefore, every cycle, the Moratians strove to improve themselves and each other by building a strong, just society where education and fellowship came first. And then, when they next came within sight of the island and the Festival of the Allfather was once more upon them, they offered up not just their guilt but the fruits of their labours and aspirations; showing the Allfather how his people in exile had improved, showing him how they were indeed worthy of his mercy and his love.

It was true that the Allfather still had not brought them back to their ancestral home, but for each year that the people of Morat built on their achievements they moved themselves closer to the day when they would ascend and be forever in his care.

And so, the high priests had come to realise that the Allfather had not sent his people out in exile merely as a punishment, but also as a way to reveal to the Moratians what they were capable of, to prove the glory of his creation.

"So, the Moratians believe that they come from Kerberos?" Dunsany said.

"It is not a question of belief," said Win. "The Moratians really do do come from the Allfather, doesn't everything?" come from the Allfather, doesn't everything?"

"For many of us on Twilight, Kerberos is indeed central to our faith." Father Maylan said. "It is commonly held that when we die our souls fly to Kerberos, there to be joined with the Lord of All, to spend eternity in his glory."

"See?" Win said. "We both share that desire to return."

"The similarities between our beliefs are striking," Dunsany said. "Something else that you mentioned also interests me. You spoke of this stone of the Allfather that enabled the original exiles to exist in the void between worlds and which enables you to weather the Twilight seas. It is clear that the power of this stone is considerable and I believe that the stone that sits at the heart of the Llothriall Llothriall must be composed of the same material." must be composed of the same material."

"Were you given this stone by the Allfather?" Win said.

"No. I'm afraid that our stone was found by somebody else. We sort of had to steal it. Believe me, the people we took it from wouldn't have used it for so n.o.ble a purpose."

"We are fellow travellers are we not?" Win said, refreshing everybody's gla.s.ses. "Journeying to the glory of the Allfather."

"Well, some of us I suppose," said Jacquinto. "Ignacio and I are only in it for the money."

Win laughed and proposed a toast.

"To the glory of the Allfather."

"The Allfather," the crew echoed.

"So what now for the Llothriall Llothriall?" Win said. "Where shall be your next port of call?"

"Well the problem we have is that we can't get our stone to, um... work." Dunsany said. "You see, Emuel used to be able to unlock the power within the stone through song. But the elven runics that enabled him to do that have been broken by sorcery."

"My friend, I'm afraid that this talk of elven runics makes no sense to me. Are these the marking on your friend's flesh?"

"Yes." Kelos said. "They are elf songlines."

"May I examine them more closely Emuel?" Win said.

Emuel looked up from his plate. He was humming to himself and the beatific smile that Dunsany had noticed earlier was still on his face.

"The songs are here," he said. "The singing is all around us."

Jacquinto leaned in close to Emuel, as though he was talking to a nearly deaf elderly relative. "Emuel. The nice man wants you to take your shirt off. Can you do that?"

"Yes, of course Jacquinto," the eunuch said. "There's really no need to shout."

Win gasped as Emuel took off his shirt and moved to run his hands over the text covering the eunuch's torso.

Jacquinto raised his eyebrows at Ignacio but said nothing.

"It is the holy text," Win said. "Emuel, your flesh is covered in the scripture of the Allfather."

"But that's not possible," Kelos said. "Those are elf runes."

"And this scarring on his chest, is where the text was damaged?" Win said, pointing to the still painful-looking wound.

"Yes, with the songline broken he no longer has access to the power of the stone." Dunsany said.

"It is possible that the high priests may be able to do something for your friend. They will certainly want to meet him."

"That is good news," Dunsany said. "The only other thing that you may need to know is that when we came to Morat, we were fleeing from some rather unpleasant creatures."

"Well, I really wouldn't worry about them. With the power of the Allfather, there is no way that they can trouble you here."

Chapter Sixteen.

No one in the Final Faith knew what the planetary body now hanging before the face of Kerberos signified. Nowhere within the holy texts was there mention of the coming of the moon. But the biggest challenge the Faith was now facing was not this sinister new conjunction, but the increasingly panicked questions of the laity.

The people couldn't fail to notice the dark spec on the face of Kerberos and many were taking it upon themselves to proclaim it to be a sign of the end times. It didn't help that some of the clergy, in the more rural parishes, were going along with this a.s.sessment, preaching services full of the threat of d.a.m.nation.

It was decided that, in order to staunch the panic before it spread to every community and began to destabilise the Faith's hold on their flock, there would have to be a proclamation from Katherine Makennon herself.

When the next Tenthday rolled around, therefore, Makennon stood on a high balcony at the cathedral at Scholten and - looking down on the ma.s.s of people gathered in the great square below - made her p.r.o.nouncement.

These were not the end times, she proclaimed, starting with at least a small note of comfort. This was, however, a time to be afraid, for the dark manifestation on the face of Kerberos was the eye of the Lord of All. He was gazing down on Twilight and taking stock of his people, for their morals had become lax and their behaviour questionable. Any man, woman or child the Lord of All found lacking would be judged with the full force of his fury. So, the people should look up at Kerberos and take it into their hearts to change their ways.

Much to Katherine Makennon's relief the proclamation seemed to work. Sometimes, she considered, the best panacea for fear was fear itself, because through wielding it one could control the people.

Over the next few days, reports coming in from every major city in the Empire showed a fall in crime across the entire region. There was also a fall in the number of heresies being committed. There were even stories of heretics willingly giving themselves up to the cleansing fires of the naphtha gibbets, claiming that now they could see the face of the Lord of All, they had come to realise the true horror of their sins.

All in all, Makennon considered, the arrival of this new planetary body had turned out to be no bad thing. Church attendance was up, collection plates brimmed with coin and the ma.s.ses submitted to even the harshest decree.

This renaissance of faith, however, was not to last.

Days after the dark moon had moved into conjunction with Kerberos, the attacks on the coast began.

From every major port in Vosburg, reports flooded in of creatures walking out of the sea and launching vicious a.s.saults on the populous. The military were stretched almost to breaking point defending the maritime provinces, and the channelling of resources away from the in-land cities meant that crime rose steeply in these areas. The Final Faith were forced to bolster the Empire's troops with detachments of the Order of The Swords of Dawn and, as a result, some heresies were now going unpunished, as all available Faith troops were put to use against the Chada.s.sa menace.

The fighting was intense and casualties on both sides were high. For a while it seemed that some of the major ports would fall. But Freiport suddenly joined the conflict - briefly allying with a nation that they had openly spurned for years - and, with a last desperate push, the creatures were driven back into the sea.

Some of the smaller coastal settlements, however, had not had the might of the Empire to back them up and entire generations had been slaughtered, villages reduced to rubble before the sea demons - their hunger apparently sated - had withdrawn.

But not all of the creatures had escaped. A special cadre of the Order of The Swords of Dawn - under the supervision of Querilous Fitch - had managed to capture a handful of prisoners. And now that the Final Faith had the Chada.s.sa back in residence at the dungeons in Scholten, they would use all means at their disposal to discover the true nature of their plans.

Silus sat and watched Katya and Zac sleep.