Page 14

Chapter 14

Words of Glory

One enters the Presence of the Celestines by stepping inside the Auroral Cathedral through the Gates of Humility. The last part is certainly true, but it leaves out the bit about first building the gates– not to mention erecting the whole damned cathedral.

‘Remember the good old days, when we used to blow things up for profit rather than constructing shitty pigpens with our bare hands?’ Corrigan asked as he pounded an eight-foot-long wooden post into the muddy ground of an abandoned field roughly twelve miles outside of the Infernal town of Seduction. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, which he attempted to dry on the damp, matted hair of his naked chest. ‘Also, is there some reason we’re not allowed to wear clothes?’

‘I thought you liked walking around naked,’ I reminded him. ‘“Got to let the dragon out of his cave now and then, Cade,”’ I mimicked in a rendition of his boisterous tone that even I had to admit was atrocious.

‘This situation is entirely inappropriate,’ said Alice, who was doing an admirable job of using her bat wings to hide various parts of her demoniac anatomy while tying the end of a length of silver ribbon to one of the posts. She unspooled another twelve yards of ribbon and stretched it to the next post.

‘An unexpectedly prudish point of view,’ Shame observed, obviously amused by her own body, now determinedly heavyset and ageing, various fleshy parts swinging to and fro as she worked. ‘One would expect Infernals to be more comfortable with their bodies, given their philosophical predilections for carnality.’

‘Says the angelic whore ,’ Alice countered. ‘And a typically bigoted response from one whose own species barely think for themselves. I am a Paladin Justiciar,’ she declared proudly, only to discover that heroic poses caused her wings to flex, which in turn exposed the rest of her body to public scrutiny. ‘I hate you all,’ she muttered, and went back to tying ribbons to wooden posts.

‘I have offended her,’ Shame said to me with a sigh. ‘Again.’

I watched for a moment as Alice finished knotting a ribbon as if she were strangling someone to death. ‘It’s not you. Alice was convinced by my old mentor, Hazidan Rosh, the most brilliant, inspiring and utterly perverse human being ever to walk the earth, that even a demoniac could become a Paladin Justiciar if that’s what she chose to be.’

‘So your mentor deceived her as part of some sort of game or ploy?’

‘No,’ I replied with more certainty than I had the right to. ‘Hazidan was the best of us. The perfect Justiciar. She saw the law as an instrument of restitution, not condemnation. The old woman would fight anyone who denied that redemption was the ultimate proof of free will.’

‘But, a moment ago, you claimed she was perverse?’

I smiled, unable, for once, to push back the memories of my years with Hazidan, fighting alongside her, being manipulated into questioning everything and forced to see that the very beliefs I clung to were shackles I was tightening around my own wrists. That’s why she rebelled against the Celestines and led me to abandon the order. That’s why she got it into her head to convince an innocent young demoniac that she could become the first in a new order of Justiciars.

Except you’re not here to form that order, Master. You’re in hell, and I’m stuck here trying to save the world you left behind.

‘Hazidan was perverse, indeed,’ I said.

Shame was staring at me, watching my eyes, my mouth, as if the fractional movements of the muscles in my face might contain the answers to all her questions about humanity. ‘I fear that I will never understand your kind.’

‘Do you want to?’ I asked.

‘I. . .’ She hesitated a moment, then, as if confessing to some terrible crime, said, ‘I do not wish to be alone for ever,’ and walked away from me.

‘Give her time,’ Aradeus said, taking a break from trimming the branches off our freshly hewn wooden posts. Through what I had to assume was some heretofore unrecorded form of rat magic, he managed to use his rapier to hack off the branches without looking like an idiot. ‘However well she hides it, Shame cannot forget the atrocities the boy Fidick, through the vilest of mystical means, forced her to commit on our first mission together.’

What that little pissant kid had done to Shame, forcing her to use her flesh-sculpting abilities to transform a coven of mages called the Seven Brothers into grotesque parodies of humanity, their jaws stretched open wide enough to enable the Lords Celestine and Lords Devilish to walk through their gaping mouths, stepping across distended tongues like red carpets, was a memory I only tolerated when I paired it with the fantasy of finding Fidick again one day and smashing that beatific, flawless face into a paste that I swear I would use to polish my boots with.

Aradeus must’ve caught my reaction and mistaken it for sympathy because he nodded solemnly. ‘That a child who appeared so innocent could prove so callous has left our comrade. . . unsure about what it means to be Mortal. Yet there is no doubt in me that Shame will find her own way to humanity as we all do, through joy, through sorrow, through laughter and, above all else, through love.’

The problem with irreconcilably noble people is that you can’t tell whether they actually believe the things they say or whether it’s only that they’re stupid enough to fall in love with beings incapable of returning those feelings. ‘Shame is more than seven thousand years old,’ I reminded him. ‘Some habits die hard.’

Naturally, he treated this observation as a testament of faith that the enormity of the challenge was proof of its righteousness. ‘Indeed!’ he declared, resuming his chopping, only to stop again. ‘On the subject of ancient Auroral beings, precisely how does one commune with the Lords Celestine by constructing a dodecahedron-shaped pigpen?’

‘Yeah!’ bellowed Corrigan from the other side of the trenches. ‘Enlighten us, oh wise coven leader, why couldn’t we just have rented a fucking hovel instead of having to build one ourselves?’

‘It’s not a pigpen or a hovel,’ I shouted at my endlessly critical comrades for the umpteenth time. ‘We’re building a cathedral : twelve sides, each twelve yards long. I’m not the one who inscribed the Ritual of Celestine Invitation upon the ancient books of Auroral Law, and since bitching about the ceremonial requirements isn’t likely to persuade the Lords Celestine to appear any faster, maybe you could all get off my fucking back about it!’

Galass, whose blood magic-infused long locks were vastly more effective in concealing the delicate portions of her anatomy than Alice’s wings, paused to scrutinise the posts and ribbons rising up from the outline I’d marked out in the soggy ground. ‘But Cade, when the Lords Celestine came through the gates made from the corpses of the Seven Brothers six months ago, you said it was the first time they’d stepped onto the Mortal realm. How can you be sure the ritual will work?’

‘Because I’ve performed it before.’

Everyone stopped and turned to stare at me, making it clear I was going to have to explain something that would lead to even more questions about my past. Questions I’d rather not answer.

Just make sure not to bring up the Celestine of Rationality and you’ll be fine , I reminded myself.

‘It’s like this,’ I began, for possibly the only time in my life wishing I had the abilities of a luminist to conjure images out of thin air. ‘We’re not actually summoning the Celestines themselves, we’re entering into the Presence of the Lords Celestine. On occasion, those arrogant pricks like to roam the Mortal realm and interfere directly in human affairs. The bodies they conjure for this purpose are, collectively, known as “The Presence”.’

‘Ah,’ Aradeus said, looking excited, ‘so when you say we will be entering the presence of the Lords Celestine, you are referring to beseeching them to manifest within physical forms more aligned with the natural laws of this world?’

‘Exactly. That’s wh — ’

‘Do they fuck humans?’ Corrigan asked.

‘What?’

He repeated the question, then decided to answer it himself by applying the sort of classical principles of logic that no doubt occupied the thoughts of ancient philosophers. ‘You said they liked to “interfere” in the affairs of Mortals. Since they already have angelics and the various orders of Glorians to do most of their interfering for them, the only human activity worth involving themselves in first-hand would be getting in a little rumpy-pumpy.’ Corrigan’s inferences took on a pedantic tone as he completed his soliloquy whilst demonstrating his preferred version of ‘rumpy-pumpy’ upon an imaginary partner. ‘Thus, we may draw two inexorable conclusions from these unassailable deductions. First, the rulers of the Auroral Hierarchy are far less enlightened than their worshippers believe, and second, Cade fucked a Lord Celestine.’

‘What?’ Galass asked, shooting me a look suggesting I was some sort of pervert.

‘What the thunderer suggests seems. . . unlikely,’ said Shame.

‘Is nothing beneath you, Fallen One?’ asked Alice, her voice contemptuous.

‘Void take me!’ I swore. ‘Why are you encouraging this idiot’s nonsense? He’s never spent even five minutes studying Auroral theology because he’s already convinced the centre of the cosmos emanates from his legendarily unimpressive groin!’

Corrigan began wagging his finger at me and singing, ‘Cade fucked a Celestine, Cade fucked a Celestine!’ which promptly sent Temper into an excited hopping frenzy. Getting both halfwits back to work took nearly half an hour, but with far too much time wasted, we finally resumed our sweaty labours constructing the gods-damned pigpen cathedral so I could give the beings I hated almost as much as the Lords Devilish one more chance to smite me.

‘I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a cathedral with neither walls nor roof and which looks poised to collapse at the first gust of wind,’ Aradeus said unhelpfully.

‘A gust I’d be happy to provide,’ Corrigan added as he trudged along the narrow twelve-yard trench to create a hole for the next post. He did this by blasting the earth with an impressively narrow bolt of Tempestoral fury.

‘Dig it again,’ I told him. ‘ With your hands. ’

Another of the rules for the Ritual of Celestine Invitation– in addition to the work being performed ‘in a state of profound humility’, which meant naked– was that no magic be employed in the construction. Corrigan dropped down to his knees, scooped the earth back into the crater, stomped it down, then began to dig with his hands, shooting me a look that promised a thousand painful acts of retribution. I gestured around, reminding him that he’d have to wait in line when it came time to meting out the punishments he envisioned, for everybody was annoyed with the approach I’d chosen for securing a meeting with the twelve Lords Celestine.

‘At least you’re on my side, right?’ I asked Temper.

The kangaroo was the only one of us who was finding the endeavour entertaining. His front paws dug with effortless efficiency, tearing up the twelve-yard-long narrow trenches, which would soon be filled with wine blessed not by any saint or preacher, but by each of us as we expiated ourselves of various sinful thoughts. Every time Temper finished one, he’d leap up into the air with his powerful hind legs, spinning like a dervish, before landing with a thump and beginning on the next.

‘That’s enough,’ I told the kangaroo when he’d finished the twelfth side. ‘You’re all done.’

He stared down at me, head tilted quizzically, then gave an odd little whining sound.

‘You’ve hurt his feelings,’ Corrigan informed me in his annoying ‘told-you-so’ tone, then directed his next remark at the rest of our coven. ‘Not exactly inspiring leadership, if you ask me.’

‘The poor fellow does look sad, Cade,’ Galass said, piling it on.

‘Indeed,’ Aradeus added, ‘our proud comrade does appear deflated.’

‘You have a complaint to register, too?’ I asked Alice when I saw her staring at the kangaroo.

The would-be Paladin Justiciar wouldn’t meet my eye. ‘Perhaps the beast fails to appreciate the motivational value of your constant belittlement.’

Excellent , I thought. Because worrying about the feelings of a seven-foot-tall vampiric rabbit-rodent thing is definitely top of the list of problems I wanted to think through before sticking my neck on the chopping block in front of the immortal beings who, until recently, had a warrant out for my immediate execution.

‘You did an excellent job digging those trenches,’ I told Temper, and when that failed to quell the dirty looks, I patted him on the shoulder. ‘Good kangaroo.’

The animal stared down at me, beady black eyes narrowing. I waited for them to turn red, which usually preceded him biting someone’s face off and then drinking the blood from the wounds he’d inflicted, but instead, Temper’s jaw began opening and closing awkwardly, as if he were trying to dislodge something from the back of his throat.

‘He’s been doing this more and more,’ Galass said, setting aside the pole she’d been planting. Her tresses turned scarlet as she awoke her blood magic, approaching carefully so as not to spook Temper. ‘Could this be a sickness caused by prolonged exposure to our realm?’

Corrigan, glaring at me, strode over to join us. ‘What’s the matter, boy? Did Cade’s stupid Fortunal spell screw something up when he found you in th — ?’

‘Temper’s still a kangaroo,’ I reminded him. ‘Which means he still doesn’t speak our language. Or any language, really.’

‘The beast appears to be choking on something,’ Alice said, though without evincing much concern for his possible death.

The kangaroo’s odd masticating had me worried, though. Contrary to what I’d told Corrigan and the others, I hadn’t ‘happened’ upon Temper in a cave out in the Blastlands. His emergence onto this plane of reality had been entirely my fault, and we had no way of knowing whether he could survive here indefinitely. ‘Go on, boy, spit it out,’ I told him. I started thumping his back, trying to get him to cough out whatever was clogging his throat. ‘Shame, get over here– do something!’

Angelic Emissaries don’t possess any specific healing magic, but her ability to sculpt the flesh of others might enable her to widen the poor beast’s throat before he asphyxiated.

‘Stop,’ Galass said, standing in Shame’s way. The crimson tresses were dancing more wildly now, signalling her sanguinalist abilities were sensing something in the flow of life that the rest of us couldn’t perceive. ‘Temper isn’t choking. He’s trying to. . . I think he’s attempting to communicate something.’

‘I have been trying to teach him to speak,’ Corrigan admitted. ‘Maybe the language lessons are finally paying off?’

‘Again,’ I reminded them, ‘he’s not a totemist attuned to some mystical kangaroo realm. He’s a fucking kangaroo.’ I stared into that open maw ringed with razor-sharp fangs and wondered what my chances were of dislodging whatever he was choking on before he accidentally severed my hand.

Temper’s mouth opened even wider and I was about to risk amputation-by-kangaroo-fangs when he moaned something that ended in a grunting cough. ‘Mmm. . . uth.’

‘What in all the hells?’ I asked.

‘Mmm. . . uth,’ the kangaroo repeated.

‘Mouth!’ Aradeus exclaimed. ‘He wants us to remove something from his mouth — ’

‘He’s in pain,’ Corrigan bellowed, trying to push past me. ‘We’ve got to do something before he — ’

‘Stop!’ Galass commanded. ‘Listen to him. That’s not what he’s trying to say.’

Six naked wonderists standing in a muddy field around a seven-foot-tall vaguely rabbit-shaped blood-drinking monstrosity was not how most people would envision humanity’s last hope of freedom. What the hell have I become? I wondered. I was a Glorian Justiciar, then a mercenary war mage. I gave up all of that and took on an attunement that’s going to get me killed by my own friends when they find out, all so I could be doing this?

‘It’s okay,’ I told Temper, stroking one of his ears and doing my best to convey a supportive and sympathetic tone to a beast who exsanguinates its many, many victims. ‘Don’t try to force the words out. Just relax and think. . . think happy thoughts.’

I watched the last shreds of my dignity disappear into the void.

The beast turned to Corrigan, saw the thunderer’s big, idiotic grin and said, ‘Mmm. . . uth. . . rrr. Mmm. . . uth. . . rrr.’

‘Does the animal consider Corrigan to be its mother?’ Shame asked. Having shed her role as an Angelic Emissary subject to the emotional desires of others only six months ago, she still wasn’t entirely clear on human relationships.

The kangaroo turned to me, then placed his paws on both my shoulders. Powerful jaws working, determination soaking the fur of his forehead in sweat, he locked eyes with me and said, ‘Mmmothherr. . . fff — ’

‘Corrigan?’ I asked quietly. ‘These “language lessons” of yours– what words have you actually been teach — ?’

Temper removed one paw from my shoulder then jabbed it into my chest as he said, ‘Motherfucker.’

‘You magnificent bastard,’ Corrigan bellowed, hurling me aside with one hand as he wiped a tear from his eye with the other. He stood facing the kangaroo a moment, gazing into the beast’s eyes before throwing his big arms around him and murmuring, ‘I’ve never felt so proud in my entire life.’

After that, the two of them danced around in a circle shouting ‘motherfucker’ at each other until both got so dizzy they fell down in the mud, giggling like idiots.

Shame came to stand next to me. ‘I was bred to understand love as a form of sacrifice to the highest good. When I was conditioned to become an Emissary, that definition was broadened to encompass various forms of human affiliation, whether romantic, platonic, filial or any of a host of others.’

‘And?’

She looked confused. Or possibly nauseous. ‘Despite my training, one turn of phrase bandied about by Mortals continued to confuse me. I always presumed it was merely another example of the hyperbole to which humans are prone. Now, though, I wonder. . .’ She pointed to Corrigan and Temper, covered in mud and grinning madly, still hurling the same epithet at one another over and over again. ‘Cade, is this what is meant by “true love”?’

The answer was obvious to me. ‘You bet your motherfucking arse that’s love.’