Part 6
Byrnes had been in the royal court of Hallyn once before. Bearnald had been in the process of accepting a contract from King Clovis himself. The old man had been happy to ask Minaerum for mercenaries from his own country. More trustworthy, he said. Besides, much of the Band had been made up of escapees from Eral'tir. Low caste elves who wanted to escape the repressive hierarchy of their homeland, or halflings who wanted to be treated as equals. And Hallyn was Eral'tir's chief rival. It looked good that elves and halflings were running to find mercy and sanctuary in Clovis' domain. Bearnald's own mother had been a cook in Eral'tir, before her master had taken too much of a liking to her. She married a human in the Holy City, Bearnald was born... the rest, history, as the ancient saying went.
Now Byrnes found himself in the court of Hallyn once more. A place which symbolized so much for him. Both liberty and death.
Yet it was not King Clovis who sat upon the throne. And the throne room itself was hardly decorated in the same fashion which Byrnes remembered. No, this place bore the centuries old monogram he had seen upon the bead. It was apparent in tapestries, engravings, sculpture. So prevalent, it was almost a parody. Perhaps it was. Regardless. Byrnes fought his faint-headedness and examined the figure upon the throne. Clovis was old. This man appeared to be in his early twenties. On his guard, he noted Irisi and Scott by his side. Timothy Tomas was not.
"I've not had a conversation in a while. But I have had much practice with silence." the figure on the throne remarked with ease.
"Darval." Byrnes said. "I was told you were dead."
"Darval
is dead." the man on the throne said. He clapped his hands three times. "I am not Darval."
The sound of his claps lasted seconds longer than they should have, as if the throne room caught the echo. Turned it into a hum, a vibration. In answer, shadowed figures stepped from the alcoves of the throne room. Skeletons. Many of them human, but not all. Some looked as if they had been put together by the parts of different races. A lion's skull rested upon a man's three-armed skeleton. That was the first thing that Byrnes noted. The second was that the dead were carrying instruments. Instruments which they promptly began to play, tapping their bones as they did so, adding to the growing tune.
"Welcome to my court." the young man said, tapping his finger on the throne with the music. Then he pointed at one of the many skeletons playing. "
That is Darval, since you are so eager to meet with him. As dead as you had hoped."
The inevitable question was to ask the man who he was, but Byrnes knew that he was enjoying his little performance. He did not want to give him the pleasure of playing along. The dagger at his belt was there only a moment longer. It curled through the air towards the necromancer, taking him directly in the chest. The old man spat blood upon impact.
"Oh my." Irisi sounded both impressed and shocked.
"I don't believe it. Too easy." Scott remarked, and Byrnes agreed.
Surely enough, the young man wiped his mouth and ignored the metal sticking out of his chest.
"Judged me already, have you?" Then he gargled, possibly in an attempt to sigh. "It was not I who killed Darval. Why do you assault me in my own home?"
"You-"
"Always act first, think later." the old man finished for him. The knife clattered between his feet, the wound seemingly healed. "That is your nature, Byrnes. You do not hesitate. You do not pity. Not until it's too
late."
"And you know me, necromancer?"
The music seemed sad, upon reflection, Byrnes thought.
"I've known many people." the necromancer gestured dismissively. "I like to keep myself informed of events above. It is part of my duty. If I planned to kill you, you wouldn't be standing in front of me."
"So, what
do you want?" Scott rested his hands on his hips. Byrnes hoped the little man was as confident as he looked.
"I just want to resolve a minor complication. To save a soul, you see." the man on the throne said in his peculiar, yet strangely familiar accent. "The bead you touched in the Zanaxer estate."
Byrnes noted that he had let it drop to the ground upon appearing in this place. The little bead had rolled a few tiles away, but surely enough, there it was. He picked it up, turning it over in the light. Nothing had changed. There rested the royal mark of Hallyn.
"What of it, necromancer?"
"You should not have touched it. Though I suspected you might. Incredibly unfortunate. But nothing we cannot resolve, you see. That is why I brought you here."
"Must I ask the obvious, necromancer?" Irisi spread an arm wide. "Who are you?"
The necromancer chuckled once, richly, making a clucking sound as he did so.
"You would not know, Shae. These fellow Hallynites, however, might. If they paid attention in Church."
The skeletons swivelled, increasing the tempo of their tune. Yes, the necromancer was having fun. Putting on a show.
"My name is
Gerinelius".
It took a moment for Byrnes to assemble the pieces in his mind. They were in a magically assembled mockery of the Hallyn court. Now he realised the monogram he had seen was more than old, it was ancient. The place he had seen it had been religious textbooks of the Four. Yes, Gerinelius. During the time of the Prophet, the court wizard of Hallyn had been a madman by that name, known for his twisted experimentation, turning hundreds of people into animals. The Prophet had reverted them to their normal selves, after transforming Gerinelius into a swarm of cockroaches. The vengeance of the Gods. One of the most infamous tales related to the Holy Prophet.
This young man before them claimed to be that same man, sixteen centuries later.
"Yes, you recognize the name." Gerinelius watched them intently. "Don't look so surprised. It's a strange world we live in. Besides, I believe Fariz went about betraying my existence."
Byrnes struggled to remember for a moment, but the name Fariz struck him. The Rising Fire had mentioned him, a stooge of Ahriman.
"Keep up, Byrnes!" Gerinelius scoffed. "The plots around you ever thicken. Names. Places. How are you to solve this mystery if you do not remember Fariz?"
"I am not quite sure I can at this point-"
Gerinelius clucked his tongue once more.
"You. Shae." he pointed at Irisi. "You aren't part of this."
Irisi reached for her knives, but then froze. And stayed frozen.
"I can't move." she sounded panicked.
Byrnes dared not so much as flinch. Gerinelius was looking at him now.
"Your soul or that of Scott belong to Hell. You touched the bead meant for Zanaxer. That can't be helped. It was, as you can see, a trap. I had those beads sent to daemon cultists over the years, bringing the cultists to me. I will show you, Byrnes. Scott. And then you will judge. You will judge whose soul shall go to Hell, for one of your souls is now marked. Irreversibly so."
Light engulfed the chamber, and Byrnes and Scott found themselves thrown violently forward. When the light cleared, they found themselves plunged into warm sand. Looking up, Byrnes saw that he was in a sort of colosseum. Yet the walls were alcoves - prison cells. Hundreds if not thousands of people could be seen lounging inside. Gerinelius appeared floating above them, arms spread wide.
"Welcome to the Menagerie! Here, beneath Talland, my work has continued. Uninterrupted for fifteen centuries."
Scott and Byrnes exchanged glances. Then they already were back to back, looking for exits, seeing how the terrain could advantage them, looking for anything...
Gerinelius began to float down towards them.
"You know my story, do you not? I was turned into a swarm of cockroaches by Landak Tahar. The Prophet. Separated into many beings as I was, I still retained a collective mind. Enough of one, at least, to pray to Hell, and make a deal. I would be returned to my former self, forever ageless and hidden from the world, able to continue my work. In exchange for souls, and my own, someday. I am damned. And evil, to many. But I do not consider myself to be wicked."
"How can you not?" Scott asked, brow as furrowed as possible, fear in his eyes. He gestured at the cells. "What's this, then?"
"I make the world a safer place." Gerinelius stated. Then he gestured to some of the nearest cells, and Byrnes saw people he recognized. Timothy Tomas. Marie Moran. Natalie Neumann, too. The missing daemon cultists. "I capture wicked souls. Awful, horrible and depraved people, like the daemon cultists you have been searching for. And I bring them here, to experiment upon. To seek Truth from. I make them my experiments, suffering for the rest of eternity - unless they accept the inevitable. That they are going to Hell anyway. And I convince them to trade their souls to the devils who gave me my life. My existence. And so it is. They are the price I pay for my experimentation."
"You bargained for immortality by sacrificing others!" Byrnes roared. "How are you not evil?"
"I am a judge. I am the highest authority on justice. I have studied existence for fifteen thousand years! I do not get pleasure out of this work. I do it because my continued survival is important. More important than anything else. I have brought you here to understand, so that you can help me judge. I take evil men destined for the lower planes, and I make them productive. How is that evil?"
Gerinelius had a profound desperation to his eyes. But it was not madness. Not entirely, at least. The wizard of legend circled them.
"Byrnes. You accuse me of evil, and feign pity for these cultists. But I have been watching you. You said they deserved to die horrible deaths. You were hesitant to conduct this investigation."
Byrnes hesitated. What was this he felt? Shame, and guilt?
"You, Scott. You've killed men before. Over drink and money owed." Gerinelius stopped before the halfling, disdain on his face.
"How did you-" The halfling gaped. "That was so long ago, so long."
"I have spent fifteen thousand years studying devil contracts and the laws of men. Practising magic the likes of this world has never known."
"But,
why?"
Gerinelius lifted a pebble from the ground. Then he threw it, and when it landed before Byrnes and Scott, it began to tremble. Then shift, and change. It increased in size, then sprouted limbs, vibrating until it took the shape of a naked, brown-haired man. The man shivered, turning his hands over, studying them wildly.
"Behold. Life." Gerinelius stated. "Magic has the ability to twist inanimate matter into that which lives. But what are the implications? He thinks, he feels, but does this man have a soul?"
Byrnes felt disgusted, repulsed. But he recognized the humanity of this man. He removed his cloak, putting it around the man's shoulders, who shivered despite the heat. And yet... did it truly feel?
Gerinelius lowered his head.
"He has a very short time to live, before he returns to stone. For mortal magic has limits. As much as we fight and we try, there are some things beyond us... Not many limits exist for the True Gods. But for us, yes. But we have free will. We can play by the very rules that limit the Gods."
The shivering man grabbed Byrnes' face, staring into it with wild, confused eyes.
"Who- who am I?" he chocked out in the Common tongue. Born out of nothing, with words and feelings and thoughts. Byrnes grabbed the man, embraced him.
"You are alive."
"But." Gerinelius whined. "I have seen a soul form, in beings born of metal and stone, given time to think and feel. But has he had the time? Does he have a soul, my guests?"
"He is a person." Scott stated, but questioningly, Byrnes could see. That was what Scott wanted to believe.
"I am alive." the man affirmed. "Where am I? I remember. I remember."
Gerinelius leaned in, ever so slightly.
"What do you remember?"
"A court, a mother, a strange man-"
Then Gerinelius snapped his fingers, and the man transformed back into what he had been, returning to the dust and the earth at Byrnes' feet. The cloak that had been around his shoulders fluttered to the ground.
"Born with some of my memories, for lack of his own. A mere shell. A machine without a ghost."
Byrnes fell to his knees and grabbed a fistful of the red sand. He let it fall onto the rock that had lived.
"He was alive, Gerinelius. He deserved more. You could have given him more."
"The spell exists. The capability to do what I did exists. If the capability exists, then it is fundamental to reality. It must be studied. The King of Hallyn during the time of Landak Tahar was a god in his own right. He received true power for his worship. That was Truth. I gave a stone the chance to think and breathe and feel. Judge me for it? No. Judge me for other things. But do not judge me for turning men into women and seeing them birth children before turning them back to what they were. Judge me not when I take pain to its utmost limits. I have made machines that could traverse the stars. We walk beneath this world, upon its barren bottom, upside down, staring into the black abyss below. I have seen men fall from this land, fall so that I might watch where they go. See me dissect the essence of a soul, Byrnes, and know its true meaning."
"All this, for knowledge? Experience?" Byrnes cried, beholding the hundreds of tormented people around him. "
Knowing, with all the knowledge you have, the pain it causes? The agony? You
know. Surely you know more than even the Evil Outsiders who are born to their ways, you
know true right from wrong."
"And that is what should make you stop. And think." Gerinelius stated. "What if with all the knowledge I have gathered, the experience, the wisdom, what if I have realised the wickedness of Gods and have judged all the pain and suffering I have caused to be worth it?
Truth is not negotiable! There is no religion higher than
TRUTH! I am True Neutral, Byrnes. I have learned the rules of reality and I have mastered them. Morality is but a game."
"And you tell us this, because-" Scott began, daring to hope for a way out.
"Because I said I wanted you to make a judgement. You touched the bead. Cenus Zanaxer should be in one of these cells. Instead, by the terms of the Devil's Contract I have made, one of you must remain here. Whoever remains behind, you will remain here until you agree to go Hell."
"You go to Hell." Scott spat. Gerinelius smiled bitterly. "Someday, halfling. But for now, I will make you live out the worst memories of your friend, Byrnes. He, in turn, will see your darkest side. And between you, you shall judge. Judge which one of you goes to Hell. There is a game to be played."
-
In the court above, one of the skeletons ceased playing its music. Irisi, frozen, could only watch from the corner of her vision as the skeleton placed down its instrument and began to hobble towards her. She could have screamed, but chose not to. Instead, she fought against the spell binding her. She pushed and strained, yet the magic was unlike anything she had ever felt. When catching up to Aylan Donas, the daemon cultist had been tough, but this...
The skeleton stopped short of her.
"I am Darval. You were looking for me, dear lady." Its jawbones moved, and sound came out. Though not from any physical space.
"Where am I?"
"Far beneath Talland. The Master will surely let you go. Just wait this out. You are not a part of this."
The skeleton began to feel her, touch her.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to remember. Pleasure." Darval paused. "I feel nothing. It is better to be dead. He thinks he does me a favour, keeping me bound here. No, I prefer Hell. At least there-"
"Free me, then, and I'll send you there." Irisi hissed.
"Very well." Darval rasped to her surprise. "But I warn you. It will not be possible to stop him. And even if you leave this place, you will never be able to speak of it. I chose to serve him, once. Spreading his beads wherever he wished. Doing his work on the surface, when it was needed. The price was not worth it. The div hunted me for targeting their playthings. The one known as Chara. Cutlass. She knew the div had competition from Gerinelius. So she used the Rising Fire to have me killed."
Irisi felt the magic around her begin to weaken. Darval's arms slowly began to twist and move in a rhythmic fashion, the skeleton undoing the magical bindings that held her.
"What will he do with my friends?"
-
It was all there, clearly. The horror and the bloodshed. The worst and lowest points of Bearnald's Band. Byrnes could see it all in Scott. And Scott stared at him too, feeling the same. And there it was. The beginning of hatred. Byrnes began to hate Scott, for the animal he was, deep down. In his darkest depths. That side of every person, screaming to get out. The Evil.
"Landak Tahar taught me much through observing his existence." Gerinelius began to rave. "The true nature of a man. He turned me into a swarm of cockroaches. He punished me. But unlike in your fairy tale books, it was not the Gods who punished me. It was just Landak Tahar, through his own human outrage. And I undid his curse. And in doing so, I learned that the Four Gods did not truly care. I learned that even if Landak Tahar spoke for them, as he claimed, that they were ultimately incapable of feeling or caring for our suffering. Because they made this world, don't you see? They made me. They made Hell! Abaddon! The Abyss! Every disease and tear shed is their own work. This is my temple. I
HONOUR the Gods with my experimentation. Do you not see? I will mantle them. Fifteen centuries I have spent trying to decipher the Common tongue, to learn the horrible secrets that Landak Tahar knew, but could not share. There is a
TRUTH to this world that the Gods do not want us to know. I will learn it.
THAT is my work. In learning it, we will transcend the flawed rules of the Gods. Already our mortal philosophy has shown the incompetence of the divine."
And Byrnes came to it. The worst memory in Scott's mind. He was in the Quarrelsome Quarry in the north of Talland. The slaves had risen up, turning on their foremen, dragging them down, cutting and biting. They rushed up the slopes of the Quarry. But Bearnald's men were there. Byrnes remembered stringing an arrow. Hesitating. Seeing the same hesitation in others. And he could see it in Scott, too. This was the culmination of their wrong. It was this shame, this guilt, which had made Bearnald join the Rising Fire. And when Bearnald had died, Byrnes stepped forward and addressed the Band. And not a man had defected. And Scott had been there with him.
Scott's greatest sin was Bearnald's own, and Byrnes' too. In the end, every man was different degrees of wicked, and every man justified his sin. Sin felt natural. It had to seem logical. If sin did not seem logical, then there would be no sin. No man does that which seems truly, fundamentally
wrong. And in his fifteen centuries here, Gerinelius had never realised that simple truth. He had blinded himself to any truth but his own. He had found the bars of his cage, but he failed to realise the most fundamental aspect of those bars - their subjectivity.
A tremor shook the cavern. Gerinelius ceased his rant.
"She has set them free."
He teleported away. Immediately, cries for help and mercy erupted from the prison cells. A thousand arms clawed the air through iron bars. Talland was not yet free.
