"Unleash your creativity and unlock your potential with MsgBrains.Com - the innovative platform for nurturing your intellect." » » The Blood of God by Alan Harrison

Add to favorite The Blood of God by Alan Harrison

Select the language in which you want the text you are reading to be translated, then select the words you don't know with the cursor to get the translation above the selected word!




Go to page:
Text Size:

“Of course,” said Cathbad. His wry smile told that this was more of a confirmation of Farris’s need for help, rather than an affirmative.

Every airship in Penance relied on the use of blue focus-crystals to fly. Since the gas that kept ships afloat was highly flammable, and the power that propelled them came from the heat of fires within, only crystals infused with the icy magic of hydromancy could ensure the former never came into contact with the latter. However, all things magic were under the remit of the Church, and they maintained tight control over all air travel in Alabach.

“Furthermore,” said Farris, shifting in his seat, “we request the Churchguard to join the Triad’s army.”

The Arch-Canon sat forward. “But as you put it, the Churchguard would no longer listen to me. So why are you even asking?”

This time, Farris smiled openly. “This is only a formality, really.”

The Arch-Canon stood and strolled to a nearby window. From it, the remains of the Tower of Sin were visible, the crooked, broken structure the central point of the city.

“We must know her motives before we can hope to fight her,” said Cathbad. “Has the Triad anything to say to that matter?”

Farris held his tongue. Not yet. That is a card best played if straits grow dire.

“A small portion of Triad’s army has assembled in Dromán,” Farris said, avoiding the question. “We have fortified the ruined city and made camp within the Academy.” This much was a lie, for the Triad’s soldiers had instead made camp on the outskirts of the Dromán, protecting the ancient structure that lay beneath the ground.

Cathbad frowned. “How strong are your forces? Surely there were many casualties in the wake of the horde.”

“Five hundred, but we’re presently only capable of flying half of them. With the use of your focus-crystals, we can get all of them to Dromán by nightfall tomorrow.”

“And if we were to add the Churchguard, we would bring that number to well over a thousand. A thousand trained soldiers against a single girl.”

“Yes,” said Farris. “But I fear it won’t be enough.”

The Arch-Canon had no response to this. In truth, the Triad’s army would be augmented with Nicole’s technology: Armour made from Simian-steel that no Geomancer could hope to bend. Flames untouchable by any Pyromancer. Firearms with a hundred times the power of a crossbow. Enough power to hold back even an army of mages.

But what about a god?

“And do the fanatics make up much of your number?” asked Cathbad with a sneer.

“Yes,” said Farris. “The Sons of Seletoth played a significant role in defending the city. Their valour is as unwavering as their faith.”

“There is no faith in heresy. They’ve disregarded our teachings in favour of their own. They deny the grace of the Trinity and paint their own effigy of the Lord.”

Farris smirked. “Their effigy has grown in popularity since the night the horde came. One of their central tenets has been that only Seletoth, their One True God, holds the power of the Trinity, and the Lady and the King are mere mortals. King Diarmuid’s death has added some strength to this view.”

Cathbad paused. He opened his mouth slightly, mouthing words before he spoke them. Eventually, he asked, “Have you ever heard of Divine Penetrance.”

“Yes,” said Farris. “I once believed in it too. I saw enough proof to convince me the king possessed the gift of immortality, but witnessing his death first-hand changed that. In a world where the dead rise and the gods fall, I don’t know what to believe any more.”

“Of course,” said the Arch-Canon. “These are testing times for us all.” He turned his attention back to the window looking out over the city. “Tell me, you’ve worked by King Diarmuid’s side. Have you ever entertained the possibility that he has an heir? That the gift was passed onto another?”

“No,” said Farris. “King Diarmuid was fond of brothels back in his youth, and even more so in his later days, but he never fathered a son. Your men made sure of that.”

Cathbad clasped his hands together, interlocking thin fingers with thin fingers. “How so?”

Farris stood. “You know well ‘how so!’ You had the Wraiths of Seletoth track any woman Diarmuid lay with, murdering those who fell victim to his seed. I’ve read the reports; dozens died because you were too afraid to say to your king, ‘No!’”

“If I know more than I let on, Farris, then you know far, far less. These ‘Wraiths,’ as you call them, are no different to the Sons of Seletoth: nothing more than mortal men who chose to serve the Lord in a manner different to me or you.”

Farris inhaled deeply. He thinks this will get to me.

“I’ve spoken to one of the Sons about his Seeing,” said Farris. “He told me that he felt Seletoth’s infinite power and learned that He does not love us. Does this adhere to the teachings of the Church?”

The smile faded from Cathbad’s face. “Of course not. The Lord created the earth and Her fruits and loves each of His creations like a parent does a child. The Sons’ iconoclasm is nothing more than a baseless attack on our faith.”

“Then why does the Church not share this same love for the people of Alabach?” Farris’s voice was rising. “Families starve outside your walls while you walk on carpets paved with enough gold to save them.” He gestured to the portrait of Seletoth. “Doesn’t your god want you to help His children?”

The Arch-canon closed his eyes. “That is not our purpose. We uphold the moral and intellectual fabric of society, and we have allocated our resources to best let us achieve that.”

“I’m sure there are many in Penance who’d prefer food and shelter than whatever the Holy Hell that’s supposed to mean.”

Cathbad shook his head and sighed. “Farris Silvertongue, you must not assume you can do a better job bearing the burdens of those who rule. How easy it must be, to sit across from me and claim you could feed and shelter the poor—all the poor—if you only you were in my place. Yes, the riches of our establishment would be yours in that case to do as you please. But they too come with the responsibility of ensuring the continuity of the Church. If you truly understood the purpose of our work, you’d quickly see that opening the Basilica doors and spreading its wealth across the land without a plan would be reckless and irresponsible.”

“But it would be the right thing to do.”

Cathbad smiled. “Perhaps. But often what the people want is not the same as what they need.”

Farris bared his teeth. “And what is it they need more than food and shelter? If you saw what I’ve seen growing up in the Dustworks, you’d do whatever you could to help.”

“Ah,” said Cathbad. “But if you knew what I know about the will of our Lord, you’d understand why we cannot.”

Farris didn’t respond. Oh, but I know quite a bit about that already.

The Arch-Canon returned to his seat. “Back to the matter at hand, what makes you think the girl will travel south?”

“The scouts of the Triad have been spread across the Clifflands in the wake of the attack on Penance.” Farris paused. He could have lied there and then and said they saw her, but he hesitated.

As if sensing this weakness, Cathbad pressed further. “But she has already destroyed Dromán with her horde, correct? She marched her army through the Academy grounds and took a thousand battlemages into her ranks. I don’t believe she’d leave any behind, so why go back?”

Farris narrowed his eyes.

He knows, he realised. He just wants me to admit it. He considered Cathbad for another moment. The man’s expression was unreadable, like grey stone. Let’s see what reaction this gets.

“We have found the tomb of the Lady Meadhbh,” Farris began. He kept his voice low and calm. “It is located near Dromán. Santos and King Diarmuid uncovered it a year ago when they were building the underground railway. Shortly after the horde was defeated here, we parlayed with the Lady Meadhbh Herself.”

Farris paused. Although Cathbad’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes no longer seemed so dark. Instead, they stared back at Farris with something between wonder and fear.

Oh dear. Perhaps he didn’t know after all.

“She told us of the lies of the Church,” Farris continued. “That Seletoth did not create the heavens and the earth, or the flora and fauna that inhabit them. All He created was the Human race, and only they are bound to the Tapestry of Fate.”

“This is known,” whispered Cathbad. “Though not by many. What else did She say?”

“Meadhbh alluded to something She called ‘the Truth.’ Some secret that the Church was established to protect. Some piece of knowledge that drove many mad once they witnessed it. She believes that Morrígan has caught a glimpse of this Truth and will do whatever it takes to learn more. When she does, destroying Seletoth and ending all life will be the only reasonable response.”

Farris’s words seemed to weaken Cathbad. The old man placed a trembling hand against his wrinkled neck, grimacing as he rubbed his skin.

Are sens