Holy Opposites 21

	Finally, after nearly an hour, the smoke abruptly vanished.  Forswaithe pitched over, heaving for breath.  Axio was at his side in an instant.  “Elder brother!  Are you all right?” Axio demanded.

	Forswaithe turned to him, and Axio recoiled.  The man’s eyes were black as night, and full of stars.  “Listen now, Chosen of Ryaire,” Forswaithe said in a voice as deep as the sea.  “Ilmater has spoken for his subordinate, and his words shall carry.”

	Axio bowed his head to the floor in an instant.  “I hear, sir,” he said, his heart leaping into his throat.

	“Know how the leaves shall fall, for the passing of time rings with Fear,” Forswaithe said, putting emphasis on the last word.  Axio knew what that meant.  Bane was the Fear God.  “Know how the stones lie, for the rocks upon which we build are sturdy, but foundations can be raised too high.  Know how the new blood stirs, for it runs hot without old veins to carry it.”  Forswaithe took a deep breath.  “Know how deep the cellars run, and the unseen sights may be perceived, for not all that is familiar is explored.  Know your own fate, for He is God of Martyrs, and many hands shall hold the blades.”  Axio’s stomach clenched into knots.  “Know Ryaire’s labor, for she shields all who die young, but also those who miss them, and even evil may love.  Know bonds can run closer than blood, and know peace is treasure in itself.”  Forswaithe breathed again, his voice growing raspy.  “Know the servants of evil are not of one mind, nor one path.  Know that the righteous and the guilty are all as naught in time, and hastening departure is not the same as guaranteeing it.  Above all, know that not all who bear the wages of sin may do so in full knowledge, and even shadowed hearts beat.”

	Forswaithe let out a rattling cough, and sat back on his heels.  His eyes returned to normal.  “Well, lad, there you have it,” he croaked.  He leaned on the altar for support.  “Are you alright?”

	Axio slowly rose.  “‘Know my fate?’” he asked hollowly.  “What in the world does that mean?  ‘Many hands shall hold the blades?’  Is somebody going to kill me?”

	Forswaithe shook his head.  “One moment, Axio, one moment.”  He picked up a quill he had set aside before and began writing furiously.  He scribbled the words down on paper as quickly as he could, and then set the quill down.  “All right, here we are.”  He looked over everything he had said again.  “Hmm.  From what I can interpret, it seems that the Cult of Bane is… somewhat disunited,” he said.  “This bit about how even evil may love may mean that a member of the cult is at risk of losing somebody.  Maybe a certainty there,” he mused.  “Ryaire wouldn’t need to shield them from anything if they didn’t die.”

	He sensed Axio’s agitation and raised a finger.  “Lord Ilmater was specific when he sent me this vision.  I wasn’t speaking in His voice, but these are His words.  This bit about the inescapable nature of death, and how haste isn’t a guarantee… I believe that means that He wants us to remember that all mortals should die, and the enemy may be using undead against us, or perhaps that you should be merciful to somebody in exchange for their help.”

	He set the paper down.  “As for the bit about you, my friend, I suspect he’s saying you should avoid groups of enemies, so you do not become a martyr to the cause.”

	“Avoid groups of… brother, we sent most of the Order south!” Axio said angrily.  “Cavria and a few temple guards are all we have left!  How am I supposed to avoid being outnumbered?”

	“I’m not solving your problems, just telling you that you have them,” Forswaithe said lightly.

	Axio was immediately contrite.  “My apologies, brother,” he said, putting his hands up.  “I’m… not used to hearing about my death.  I’m twenty-two, it doesn’t come up much.”

	“I understand, Axio.”  Forswaithe returned to scanning the document.  “Hmm.  The bit about rocks and foundations is a reference to your family running this church, I suspect,” he said.  “Perhaps a warning that they shouldn’t be too involved in your struggle.  The only bit that isn’t clear to me is the bit about cellars.  Perhaps… hmm.  He said that the familiar is not the same as the explored.”  Forswaithe put the paper down and tapped his chin again.  “The familiar is not the same as the explored.  If He meant that literally, it may mean that a place you’ve been before holds a clue to the enemy’s intent, but you haven’t seen it, because you’re so used to the place that you’re not looking at it closely.  If it’s figurative… something you take for granted may hold a clue towards the enemy’s behavior.”

	Axio blew out a breath.  “All right.  Well.  Thank you, brother.  May I keep that list?”

	“Of course.”  Forswaithe passed him the document.  “I hope this is of some value to you.”

	“Oh, it will be,” Axio promised.  “I’ll put it to good use.  Now… what do I owe you, brother?  Such rituals are neither easy nor cheap.”

	Forswaithe rose unsteadily to his feet.  Axio helped him up.  “The ritual components cost only two hundred gold pieces, brother,” Forswaithe said.

	Axio hid a wince.  That was actually kind of a lot.  A city Watchman made only fifteen gold per year.  Still, he would cover it as best he could.  “I don’t have that much on hand, brother, but I can cover part of it.  I’m afraid I’ll have to owe you the rest.”

	“Mm.  Well, alright, my friend, I know you won’t forget about it,” Forswaithe said.  “Besides, there may be a bounty on the men you’re pursuing.”

	“Also true, that actually hadn’t occurred to me,” Axio admitted.  “Is there anything I can do to help you, in return?”

	Forswaithe shook his head.  “No, my friend, I must prepare to depart.  I am already due at the Temple of Martyrs for a meeting in a few hours.  Still,” he said, resting a hand on Axio’s shoulder.  “As long as we have the place to ourselves, I have to ask.  Do you know of Sister Cavria’s true nature?”

	Axio blinked.  “What?”

	Forswaithe held up his hand.  He bore a ring of true seeing, a potent tool for piercing illusions.  “Your friend is… something not human,” he said.  “I showed no sign of my awareness in the ceremony, since Ryaire’s eyes cannot be fooled, and she clearly bestowed her grace on the girl, but...”

	“Yes, she’s a devil,” Axio said quietly.  “We are aware, and so is she.  Please, please do not spread it around; she’s having enough trouble fitting in around here.”

	“I understand.  Is this an effort of redemption, child?” Forswaithe asked.

	Axio hesitated.  Once again, he had to remind himself not to say too much… but Forswaithe was a good friend.  What was appropriate?  “No,” he said truthfully.  “She’s already redeemed herself fully, but… its personal, sir,” he said cautiously.  “She is not a fallen angel, she is… well, she’s more like a rising devil.  It’s complex.”

	Forswaithe nodded again.  “I understand,” he repeated.  “I shall speak no more of it.”

	Axio shook his hand.  “Thank you, brother.”


Chapter Sixteen:


	Cavria lay in bed with a sick grin on her face.  Her face was sheened with sweat, her hands were clenching and unclenching the sheets, and her legs were grinding together, tangling the blankets.  She was in the throes of a heady dream of delight.

	In her dream, she was wearing an outfit of velvet, leather, silk, and lace.  She was walking down a barren hall of unlit stone into a prison cell.  On the floor, she saw mortals sprawled about, dressed in rags and filth.  They sat there with blank expressions, huddling for warmth without moving.  As she walked among them, they stirred to life, mewling and whimpering for her attention.  Chains and ropes sprang up from the ground to hold them in place, and each of them clamored for her attention.

	She idly selected one, and he cried in joy as his ropes fell away.  The others just cried in bitter disappointment as the selected victim threw himself at her feet.  She materialized long, thin knives and began torturing him, driving the spikes through his bruised skin and drawing beads of blood.  Knifes of sharp obsidian left thin cuts that didn’t draw blood, while long and jagged metallic ones spilled blood all over the floor.  The mortal writhed in ecstasy and agony as she tortured him, growing more aroused as she watched him suffer.  She flensed his skin in places, skewering his eyes and genitals with barbed hooks, all while he begged for more, more, more…


	Cavria launched up from bed with hands over her mouth.  Several of the sisters of the temple grouped by her bedside with their eyes wide.  “Cavria, Cavria, for Ryaire’s sake, calm yourself!” one insisted.  “What in the world is wrong with you?”

	Cavria held back a spate of giggles that turned nearly to a vomiting spell.  It was a fair question.  “A… a nightmare, sister,” she managed, still clamping her hand over her mouth in disgust.  What in the fucking hell had just happened to her?  Was she getting off to visions of herself torturing people?  “A… most horrible nightmare.  I… oh, I sweat the sheets through,” she lied.  “I need to clean this.  I’m so terribly sorry for waking you all,” she said, flushing with humiliation as she saw the number of sisters who had clustered around.  “Please, return to sleep.  I’ll be fine.”


	Cavria ran her hands over her sheets as she waited for them to dry.  She was standing there when Axio wandered up behind her.  “Good evening, sister,” he said.

	She didn’t turn.  “Hello, Axio.  Couldn’t sleep?”

	“No.  You?”

	“Nope.”  Cavria sighed.  “Nightmare.”

	“Me too.”  Axio shrugged and sat down beside the little garden.  “I spent the evening with the Elder Brother from Ilmater’s church.  The Oracular Cleric, you know.”

	Cavria glanced over at Axio.  He was standing in a nightshirt and loose pants, leaning back against the outer wall.  “What did he say?”

	Axio sighed.  “I asked him to render an oracular sight for us, to help solve this abduction epidemic.  He… told me much.  Riddles, most of it, but Brother Forswaithe helped me solve much of it.”  He ground his hands into his eyes. “I, uh… he prophesied me dying.”