Nights of Villjamur

THIRTY-SIX

They came two hours before the dawn, dressed blacker than the shadows of the streets itself, two dozen cultists from the Order of the Dawnir, and they gathered in numbers outside the simple wooden door. Papus placed a metal box containing a brenna-based relic at the base of it, altered the settings subtly, retreated.

A few heartbeats later, the door exploded, shards of wood clattering on the cobbles and the neighbouring buildings, an abrupt hailstorm of splinters. In the following silence, her cultists entered the city headquarters of the Order of the Equinox. Shouts and screams were soon heard from inside. Knives were drawn. Quick battles fought in the gloom. Only the gargle of blood exiting a throat indicated a death rattle.

They used several aldartals to freeze the men and women of the Equinox in time – poised in moments of confusion and terror for several minutes – before binding them with ropes. Any that weren’t thus immobilized were killed. Dartun’s own relics seemed to inhibit the effectiveness of many of her own devices, so much of what went on happened in real time. The bitterness of ancient rivalry had now reached a violent climax. Papus expected answers. Her previous threat – the hostage she had taken – had not produced a response from Dartun. She would search this building until she knew what secrets were hidden here, and what truths she didn’t yet know about Villjamur, about the lands of the red sun…

About Dartun himself.

In many of the rooms there was only candlelight at best. Still, it was enough for her order to go about their search. She had planned this in detail. Thirty-four of the Equinox were captured, tied up, dragged out into the alleyway. She figured there would be at least another forty members hiding here, now fully aware of the break-in. She whispered strategy, signalled by hand the parts of the building to be investigated. Some of the corridors had been blocked by simple energy shields, relics being activated within the stonework. Simple enough to remove – they were meant for common burglars rather than to deter cultists. Progress through the complex of secret corridors and hidden rooms was efficient.

Shards of the Equinox technology were shot at her cultists, ripples of purple light cutting through the air. The darkness allowed her to see them easily, but she soon lost the ability to see clearly in the dark because of the constant flares of light. Papus tripped over more than once, her palms stinging as they slapped against the cold stone floor. She could hear gasps and shudders of breath and coughs of blood and muffled cries. She could only hope they represented the defeat of the Equinox. Then these private battles ceased.

A signal was sent along the line of her order, back to the front of the building. Torches were ignited. There might be plenty of new technology here, an abundance of unfamiliar relics, that she could steal information from.

She began to search thoroughly, although not sure exactly what she was looking for. Every stone-built room was well kept, no cobwebs in any of the corners. Wherever she stepped she found herself surrounded by intricately decorated artefacts, all alien to her eye. They had to be Archipelagan in origin, but suggested far more ancient technologies than she was aware of, perhaps not even of this world. Bizarrely inert instruments, unknown carvings, rune-work she didn’t understand, scrolls written in Dartun’s own code, and every new discovery made her feel less sure of herself, a cultist who was diminishing in quality.

A strange smell came from one side of the complex of chambers. This arterial architecture, so typical of this ancient city, meant it was difficult to locate at first. Such was the design of Dartun’s home, each room prompted a sudden self-awareness so you felt as if you were exploring some aspect of your own mind and not just another room.

When she found the source of the smell, she wished she hadn’t.

She called more of her followers to her side, standing in a large room with a curving, tiled ceiling, as if it was a cellar. The temperature seemed as cold as the snow outside. More lanterns were brought into the room, and as each extra light arrived, there was an audible gasp.

The room was fifty paces long, around twenty wide, and at the far end against the wall were the partially decayed remains of human beings, all shackled by an iron ring around the throat. Laid out on tables in two rows before these dead were crude shapes covered in cloth.

Papus stepped forward and, one by one, revealed what lay beneath.

‘By Bohr…’ someone whispered.

Mounds of flesh were heaped in metal containers, glistening under the torch in her hand. Bones jutted out from some of them, as did an array of metallic instruments that she assumed to be some kind of relic. Her vision drifted across each container in awe.

‘Shit, it’s moving!’ she gasped, and gestured with her torch at one particular lump of flesh. As more light was brought to the table it was clear for all to see that the flesh-heap was rising and falling like some half-asleep beast. Vaguely hypnotic, utterly disgusting, the mound suddenly rolled over to reveal human organs underneath. Everyone groaned in revulsion. What she took for a mouth opened and closed cautiously, with a crepitus noise as if always taking its dying breath. Blood skimmed in intervals just under the surface of some strange, flaring epidermis.

Behind her, a man vomited.

What the hell was Dartun doing? This atrocity had to be immoral, in any age, in any society.

‘What d’you think it is, Gydja?’ one of the younger girls of her sect enquired. Her dark, slender features displayed a helpless fear and confusion.

‘It’s obviously some life form, although nothing I’m as yet aware of. I’d be interested to see if the banshees recognize this thing as a living organism or not.’

Comments were passed back and forth, theories offered, then dismissed. There was nothing to be certain of except that Dartun had been working on a horrific project. He was utterly insane.

‘I want at least two of you here at all times monitoring this,’ she instructed, staring at the nearest mound of mottled flesh. ‘We’ll examine these relics that Dartun’s been using. I want to know everything that’s gone on here, everything that bastard has planned.’

She headed back through the corridors, deep in thought. At times, feeling faint, she closed her eyes, paused to lean against a wall, just one thought in her mind disturbing her.

The difference between life and death isn’t all that great.

If Dartun had the power to reassemble life, that put the whole of the Empire at risk. For the greater good, no cultist should monopolize that knowledge.

He had to be stopped immediately.

The next evening, from the depths of her order’s headquarters, Papus directed that the remaining members of the Order of the Equinox be tortured. Having been stripped of any hidden relics, they were left shackled in holding cells beneath Balmacara. After she had managed to persuade the men and women of Villjamur’s Council to allow the city’s most skilled torturers to apply their talents. The Inquisition was only too happy to oblige, eager for the knowledge that would be shared.

Their methods would be brutal in this case, but were merited to try to discern whatever evil Dartun was devising.

Of the forty-three prisoners, seven men were tortured in front of the women. They were stripped naked, and bound spreadeagled across a stone plinth, awaiting the Pear of Anguish to be inserted. An ancient tool, this was a metal pear-shaped device inserted into the anus, and, with the touch of a tiny lever, it unfolded like the most cruel of petals in bloom.

Papus watched this, utterly unmoved. The men were crying and screaming, and they froze, then jerked as the metal pears were inserted.

Perhaps it was because the members of the Order of the Equinox had become accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle that the confessions came quickly and efficiently.

One by one, they told her all, the confessions spilling forth in their eagerness to oblige. It was the degree of Dartun’s knowledge that shocked Papus initially. How a cultist could know so much about the occult world was unheard of, even by her own advanced standards. The information revealed about him was alarming: he was immortal, had lived for hundreds of years, had uncovered the key to longevity. She now had to discover this for herself by searching his headquarters more thoroughly.

At one point she asked, ‘Does he have anything to do with the so-called draugr sighted on this island?’

Yes, he created them. Yes, he could raise the dead. To breed an army, they explained, enough of a safety net to deter those who might stop him. Also, to protect himself from whatever lay in the other realms beyond.

That brought them back to the subject of the Realm Gates.

She marched back and forth in agitation in front of the remaining prisoners, the facts underlying everything were coming to a head: the things Verain had warned her of were true. She felt extremely naive in her ignorance.

‘This is indeed a serious business,’ Chancellor Urtica whispered to Papus later, as they stood in a corridor of Balmacara. ‘You tell me all these things about dead creatures walking, and then you warn that he will allow such dangers to spill over into our Empire. I’m not quite sure I completely follow what you mean, but I understand there is a risk. Therefore, do what you feel necessary to stop him.’

Papus nodded, but kept silent. They paused whilst a patrol of city guards marched past them. She glanced awkwardly at Urtica, who now leaned against the wall opposite whilst the guards said the Sele of Jamur. Shortly after, a stream of servants walked by with food dishes for some of the councillors.

‘Fucksake.’ Papus then drew a gold-coloured aldartal from her cloak. Urtica looked on surprised as she then triggered the dial on the device.

Servants paused in mid-stride still holding their trays, guards froze in mid-step. Even the flames on lanterns were stilled. A time-delay relic, and she and Urtica were now in their own separate time system. She said, ‘We’ve not got long.’

He looked around at the people in suspension, then raised an eyebrow. ‘Impressive.’

‘If you want Dartun caught,’ Papus said, ‘I’ll need military transport – longships, sleds, that sort of thing.’

‘Yes, yes, of course. Whatever you want, just ask.’

‘We’ll be leaving the city immediately.’

‘Right, wait here a moment,’ he said, entering one of the clerks’ rooms nearby. He returned with a document bearing his personal seal. ‘This should be all you need.’

‘Thank you, chancellor, I’ll not stop until I find him.’ As she took the document and slid it into a deep pocket, the stilled figures in the corridor came to life, blurred at first like in some kind of smeared painting, and then they continued performing their errands and routines in real time.