Martyr (The Martyr Trilogy) (11 page)

It
felt as though I had just stepped into the middle of an evangelical church
service back home.  All of the essential trappings were in place: the pews, the
pulpit, the altar adorned with white cloth and ceremonial bowls.  The only
things lacking were the stained glass windows, but dozens of the colored glass
spheres like the ones we had observed in Ormond’s chamber were suspended from
the ceiling, all of differing sizes and dangling at various heights.  The pews
were simplistic and purely functional.  The pulpit, in contrast, was much
higher and more elaborately carved than any I remembered seeing before.  It
spoke of a vast chasm between the preacher and the common man.
We were ushered toward the front of the sanctuary, and directed to sit in the
third pew, directly in front of the pulpit.  Two armed men already sat at
the far end, and those attending to us indicated that we were to take a place
near the middle of the pew.  The two guards that had come with us then sat
down as well, neatly sandwiching us between the two pairs.  An additional
guard stood at each end.  We wouldn't have gotten far if we'd tried to
jump pews to the front or back, either, as everywhere more people were pouring
into the room and filling every available seat.  The ambient hum of
excited whispers became the dominant sound.  I turned to Maya to ask if
she had formulated a plan, and felt a painful thud as the butt of a spear was
driven into my shoulder blade.  I threw an unappreciative glare over my
shoulder at the one who had delivered the blow, and he raised it as if to
strike again, so I returned my gaze to the front and assumed a more reverent
posture.
 
Just then the chatter subsided and an awed hush fell over the gathered
throng.  I knew something was happening at the back of the room but didn't
dare chance another backward glance.  I suspected that the Caretaker had
entered the room, and I was right.  If I had expected him to be adorned
with sumptuous priestly vestments or to inspire veneration with the majesty of
his presence, I would have been disappointed.  He wore what appeared to be
an oversized Navy dress uniform, minus the cap.  It was adorned
with an unlikely number of medals and insignia that he hadn't earned, but
must have been collected from various other uniforms and assembled here. 
The sleeves and pantlegs had been cut and hemmed, but the obvious excess of material
and span of the shoulders gave him the sense of a child playing
dress-up.  He carried a sword of non-Navy issue at his belt.  The
Caretaker ascended to his lofty pulpit, drew the sword, then bowed and swung it
in a wide, slow arc over the heads of all his congregants.  They
understood this as a directive to be seated, and did so.  We were already
sitting.
 
The Caretaker began to preach.  "People of Milltown, today is a
special day!"  Nobody made a sound as he rasped his message in his
high and grating voice.  "The Deity has sent us a sign!" 
He raised his sword again and let his arm drift until it rested over our
heads.  "How mysterious are his ways...how wondrous his
plan!"  He let his arm return to his side, then slowly sheathed his
sword, and instead clutched the rim of the pulpit with both hands. 
"That he can accomplish his purposes through the means of such
broken...useless...unworthy vessels."  Each word was enunciated
sharply and punctuated with a sharp rap of his fist on the surface of the pulpit. 
"They come as thieves...in broad daylight!  They come to take what
they want, what they think they need..." His face manufactured
a look of absolute astonishment.  "...to further a conflict
against a man...a fight that the Deity has not ordained!" I saw
Maya's eyes narrow to slits.  Doog gripped the edge of his seat so tightly
that I half-expected the wood to splinter.  "And what did they bring
as an offering in exchange for the things they wished to steal?"  He
spat the words:  "Treachery and violence!" He spun wildly to his
left, arm outflung, and everyone watched as one of his men stepped forward on a
podium situated below and behind the pulpit, but still above the level of the
congregation.  He held Doog's and Maya's weapons high above his head
for all to see.  The parishioners gasped and grumbled.  As if every
one of them wasn't also armed.
 
Maya leaned forward slightly, her hands sliding slowly down the front of
her thighs toward her knees.  The guard to her left must have
detected the motion out of the corner of his eyes, as he turned his head to
look at her.  Maya hastily covered the movement by pretending to stretch
and performing an exaggerated yawn.  The guard looked her once up and
down, apparently deciding at length that she posed little threat without her
many-pocketed vest, and then returned his adoring gaze to the Caretaker.
 
Ormond's anger melted into a face of enlightened calm, eyes cast
ceilingward.  He spoke slowly and intentionally,  "But...The
Deity...is... merciful..."  He held his expression for several
uncomfortable seconds, then looked back out over the crowd and spoke with
crazed excitement.  "He has spoken to me!"  This
was met with reverent oohs and ahs.  When it subsided, the Caretaker continued. 
"And he has told me...,” his hands still clutching the pulpit, he lifted
one finger to point at Maya, “that he has sent this woman to us in fulfillment
of the ancient prophecies!  She is the second Eve!”  An awestruck wail from
somewhere in the back.  “And just as the first Eve brought death, so the second
shall be a giver of life, the Mother of a new humanity!”

Maya’s
outraged, “What?!!?” was barely heard over the shouts and cheers of the lunatic
mob.  She tried to stand and was forcibly shoved back into her seat.  Doog did
manage to stand, and paid for it with a spirited beating from several of the
men around him.  I took a moment to scan the room, and realized for the first
time that there were no women present.  I hadn’t seen any on the way in,
either.  It seemed as though this was an oversight they hoped to rectify
immediately.  It had been a mistake coming here.

I
saw Maya's knees rubbing against each other.  At first I thought it was just an
outward manifestation of the vortex of rage swirling within.  But then she
raised one knee higher than the other, and I heard a small "click". 
Nobody else seemed to notice it.  It was followed by a tiny mechanical whirring
that grew in pitch as the seconds passed.  Then I saw it.  A tiny device of
wheels and gears speeding across the floor toward the left side of the pulpit. 
Apparently not all of her secrets were tucked into her vest.  When the
apparatus reached the side of the pulpit it stopped moving forward and began to
spin in place.  At the same time it started giving off sparks, while the noise
it was emitting increased to a frenzied pitch.  For all of that, it took a
couple of moments for anyone to notice it over the cultish chants of the
assembled congregants.  When it happened, startled and confused eyes looked as
one in that general direction, trying to determine the source of the chaos. 
Maya took full advantage of the distraction.  She sprang from her seat as no
less than five sharpened blades perforated the space she had just occupied.  I
saw one of her boots alight upon the top of the pew before us, and then she was
sailing through the air, easily clearing the remaining pews and landing in the
open space just under the pulpit.  Ormond, face flaming, screeched an
incomprehensible command to some of his nearest guards.  Maya leaped again, and
I saw the guard next to me draw back, preparing to skewer her with a launched
spear.  I tackled him, grasping his spear tightly to prevent him from throwing
it and struggling to wrest it from his hands.  Maya made for the place behind
the pulpit where the guard had retreated with their weapons, but the way was
now cut off by some more of Ormond's goons.  She darted nimbly toward the other
side of the pulpit, dodging jabbing spears as she sought a way to reach her
seized property.  Meanwhile Doog lowered his head and drove his leading
shoulder into the nearest guard, using his superior strength to push him into
the person beside him.  He continued to shove one person into another until
they were packed so tightly that nobody could move.  This created a momentary
gap directly in front of me, and I sprinted through it before vaulting myself
up onto the podium. 

My
timely arrival startled a fleeing Ormond, the clear part of his face flushing
pale as he looked around himself and realized that all of his guards had either
joined the fray below or preceded him behind the safety of the heavy door at
the back of the podium.  His delay bought me enough time to get to my feet and
lunge for him.  I managed to grab hold of both of his pantlegs as he dove
through the rapidly closing door.  Owing to the generous cut of his trousers,
he was able to wiggle free and scamper through the opening just before his men
pulled it tight.  I heard the clunk of a heavy bolt, and found myself sitting
outside the door clutching a small pair of Navy-colored pants.  The only saving
grace was that the pants had been held aloft by a thick leather belt, and on
that belt hung the Caretaker's still-sheathed sword.  At least I was finally
armed.  I ripped the belt out of the loops and slung the whole thing over one
shoulder.  I was about to try the door that Ormond had slipped through when I
heard Maya shriek.  I turned to find that the guards had at last managed to
contain her, though to her credit it was occupying the full attention of no
less than four full-grown men.  I saw her land a solid bite on the arm to her
left, and the angry guard grabbed a thick shock of her hair, knotted his hand
up in it, and pulled back hard.  She winced with the pain, and spotting me,
shouted, "Justin!"  Already at the edge of the podium, I launched
myself into the air, simultaneously withdrawing the sword from where it rested
behind my shoulder blade.  I swung it around my head in a wide circle,
shattering several of the large glass globes.  The shards radiated outward,
missing Maya and her assailants but blinding or disorienting a number of those
around them.  I landed in a crouch, sword held in my right hand, its blade over
my left shoulder.  I immediately sprung and directed the hilt at the man who
held Maya by the hair, and delivered a jarring blow to his forehead.  He loosed
his grip, stiffened and fell, sprawling over the first pew.  I turned the tip
of my blade on those who still grappled with her arms and legs, and was about
to rush them when suddenly...the room imploded.

At
both sides of the sanctuary the brick walls bowed inward in slow motion and
disintegrated into chunks of mortar and billowing clouds of reddish dust, as a
sonic boom deprived me of all sound except a shrill ringing.  Every remaining
globe burst instantaneously, filling the air with a shimmering mist of glass. 
Everyone in the room cringed and covered their faces, protecting their eyes and
trying not to inhale the deadly fragments.  Before the debris could begin to
settle, shadows materialized out of the lingering haze.  Dark commandos in gas
masks strode fearlessly into the chaotic fray and dispassionately disemboweled
the first hapless worshippers they encountered.  There was a moment of shocked
disbelief, then hearing returned with a vengeance as the entire room erupted in
hysterical screams.  The black-and-scarlet-clad death squad tore into the
panicked swarm with an insatiable bloodlust, and one after another the bodies
fell, the best of the Caretaker’s guards offering only a prolonged defense
before succumbing to the unrelenting brutality of the attacks.  There was a
secondary explosion at the back of the sanctuary, and I turned to see two of
the assassins rushing into the dust and through the jagged aperture that now occupied
the place of the Caretaker’s escape hatch. 

I
turned back to the anarchy unfolding in the center of the room and scanned the
mass of clashing combatants in an attempt to locate my friends.  I couldn’t see
them, and began to fear that they might have fallen.  I joined the mad rush of
people pressing toward the door through which we had entered, back into the
mill.  I thought perhaps Maya and Doog had already made it out, and were
waiting for me.  The Caretaker’s men were too concerned to escape the scene of
slaughter at their backs to notice or care about me.  Then I saw it: several
more dark soldiers standing as gatekeepers just outside the door, cutting down
everyone that made it that far.  The other people didn’t seem to notice them,
so blinded with fear of the known evil behind them.  The force of the torrent
of human bodies that carried me along could not be stopped.  And the pile of
slain bodies at the door kept rising.  I began to feel a rush of panic and
tried to dig my feet in, to work my way to the outer edge of the stream and to
freedom, but to no avail.  Then a strong hand grabbed me by the arm and held me
fast, an anchor amidst the crush of luckless souls that swept around me. 
Slowly, I felt myself being pulled to the side.  When I emerged from the death
surge, it was Maya’s face that greeted me, pulling me to safety as she clung to
a pillar with her other hand.  I opened my mouth to speak, and she interrupted,
“Just returning the favor.”

Maya
pointed to one of the new holes that the dark warriors had blasted through the
wall of the sanctuary.  It was presently unguarded.  “Follow me!” she said. 
She hadn’t let go of my hand, so it didn’t seem like I had much choice.  Not
that I minded.  We dashed for the outlet, and I glanced back to see that
several of the cultists had also seen the opening and were following our lead. 
I watched as the tip of a blade emerged from the abdomen of a man at the center
of the pack.  He was lifted from the ground momentarily, legs still pumping,
then slammed back down as his murderer planted the head of his bladed staff in
the earth and, without losing momentum, vaulted over the heads of the man’s
companions.  As he landed, he swung his weapon behind him without looking, and
neatly lopped off the heads of the remaining men.  Then, removing a small
object from his belt, he tossed it over his shoulder, back through the hole
into the sanctuary.  Black smoke billowed from where it landed, and I could
hear people inside coughing and gasping as the nerve gas started to take
effect.  Thankfully, Maya hadn’t stopped running, and hadn’t let go.  But soon
he was in fast pursuit, and rapidly gaining ground.  As we neared the treeline
behind the mill, Maya called out to the puurr-deer.  Almost immediately three
of the great animals burst from among the trees and circled toward us. 
Anticipating my question, Maya panted, “I figured you were ready to drive.” 
The foremost two deer edged up beside us and matched our pace.  Lowering their
heads, they allowed us to grab onto their antlers and fluidly swept us up onto
their backs.  The third deer followed closely.  “We have to go back for Doog!”
Maya shouted.  The deer cut a broad arc, making sure to stay well ahead of the
dark soldier that pursued us.  Their path brought them to a raised wall of
earth that may have formed part of the mill’s outer perimeter of defense.  As
it loomed closer I realized that it marked one shore of a now-dry river that
must once have run alongside the mill.  Arriving at the obstacle Maya’s deer
leaped, landing easily on the far side.  I was next.  My mount needed no
instruction, instinctively following the first.  But I was accustomed to
clinging to a slender waist, not to a puurr-deer’s substantial neck with its
covering of silky fur.  So when my ride struck down on the other side of the
mound, I slipped just a bit to the side of its neck.  At this precise moment a
bladed weapon, thrown with pinpoint accuracy, spun through the air and glanced
off a point of my deer’s rack, just where my head had been a second before. 
The staff clanged to the ground as I righted myself and reaffirmed my grip.  I
didn’t have time to contemplate the possibility of luck in a theistic universe.