Warhammer (CH10) (Patreon)

But some men will say, how are the dead raised up? And with what body do they come?

  Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die.

And that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare grain.

  But **** giveth it a body as **** hath pleased.

All flesh is not the same flesh: all **** is not the same ****.

  So also is the resurrection of the dead.

Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.

  In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: the dead shall rise.

So when this perishable has put on the imperishable, when this mortal has put on immortality.

  Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is prophesied, death is swallowed up in victory.

And so it is written. That the first **** was made a living body; the last **** a quickening spirit.

  The first **** is made of the dust of the earth; the last  **** is made of **** of the ****.

As we have borne the image of the ******, we shall also bear the image of the ******.

  For as in ***** all die, even so in ***** shall all be made alive.

—     ***********  ** : **

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bathroom was quiet. Eli stood facing away from Morgaine, and Nissa leaning against the wall. A hand covered his face, one eye visible between his fingers.

“The length and shape of the spokes—it looks like a nine. That’s his number. Am I wrong? Is it just a coincidence?” He mumbled, pulling at his hair. One or two things perhaps. But everything? What he’d learned about the gods, about sorcery during the past ten years, in the classes he’d insisted on sitting through despite being talentless, the countless hours of self-study—it fit too perfectly. Why hadn’t he noticed it? This is what he’d pinned his hopes on? That’s his way out of this nightmare? That’s what they’ve been researching, been consulting all this time?

He swayed unsteadily. Then he stepped out of the bath, wrapping a towel around his waist. “This is too big for me.” He mumbled, putting a hand against the mirror. He leaned his forehead against it, slowly closing his eyes. “I can’t even deal with my own problems, but I’m supposed to deal with this?” He was silent for a moment. “I know forbidden knowledge is worse than a drug to you. You won’t stop. And I’m not going to waste my breath.”

A weird silence stretched in the room. Then Nissa spoke. “You rabid mutt. You dared lay a hand on me after I served you. You’re not worthy of eating the food I serve off the floor!” There was the sound of movement, her shifting to face Morgaine. “My lady, I’d watch you entertain yourself with this manling as long as you wished. But this has gone too far. It doesn’t know it’s place. Either it must be put in its place, lest it influence the others. Or it must be put out of its misery.”

Eli turned his head. He glanced from Nissa to Morgaine. She was impassive as usual, thinking. “You servants are all so mouthy.” He said dully. “But you’re a sorcerer, aren’t you? At least your arrogance isn’t unfounded.” His hand slipped from his face, resting against his neck. His index finger ran lightly along his skin, back and forth. He looked assured. Resolved. But his eyes were that of a crazy person.

“Maybe we can all get what we want.” He mumbled. “I’ll show you what you’ve been trying to see. What you’re so curious about. They get to come out. Just one. And I don’t have to go back. Not tonight.” His voice trembled, a mix of relief and joy. “Maybe it wins. Maybe you do. You two seem pretty strong. You’d have to be, right?” Before anyone could react, he dug into his throat, his fingers parting the flesh like a hot knife through butter. Blood poured from his neck. It flowed as if by its own will, forming strange symbols and lines across his body.

“This isn’t what you know.” He rasped. “You’ll have to figure out how to deal with it.”

Nissa shouted something, but he couldn’t hear her. The wind was picking up. The static was getting louder. But it wasn’t static, nor was it wind. It was voices. Many, many voices. Whispering. Whispering endlessly.

He doubled over. His nerves screamed at him, not with pain, but an intense, pins-and-needles like feeling. It pulsed along the length of his body, bringing him to his knees. He vomited onto the tiles—blood, mixed with a clear, watery liquid.

The next pulse was ten thousand times more powerful, like birthing pangs. Birthing pangs with the force of an earthquake. Every bone in his torso broke. His ribs. His spine. Up through his neck. His jaw. His teeth. His flesh was like a snake’s shedded skin, torn apart, into ribbons.

Something came out of what remained of him. What was its shape? He didn’t know. If it weren’t covered in a film of mucus and blood, it would’ve been completely invisible.

‘At least it doesn’t hurt.’ He thought. And it didn’t, because he had no feeling anywhere. Either his nerves were overloaded, or they were just completely shot. But it would hurt, once he started to heal.

He did feel the temperature in the room drop. Somehow, he could still breathe a little through his nose. The air was icy. There was a rattling sound. Items started floating, including the tray from earlier. He saw his reflection. The only intact part was a single eye.

He heard the static again. He felt that greasy, drug-like sensation. And then the pain. A lance of white-hot pain that penetrated his mind like a glowing, red poker.

---------------------

When Eli woke up, he was whole. And he was no longer in the bathroom, and no longer naked. He was on a bed in a room he didn’t recognize. A guest-room, perhaps. A person sat in a chair near the door. He hadn’t expected to find her there. She could’ve been waiting for him to wake up, but he got the impression she was blocking the exit.

“If you’re here, then that must mean you defeated it.” He said, his voice sounding a little weak. He sat up slowly, propping himself against the pillows.

Nissa said nothing. She simply stared at him, arms folded.

After suffering a cursed existence, being tortured by those devils night after night, he’d almost come to believe they were untouchable. Knowing they weren’t provided him with an immense sense of relief. “Did you kill or capture it? Don’t tell me it got away.”

She remained unresponsive.

Eli looked at her. Then he raised a hand to his throat. “You sure you’re not going to answer?”

Nissa twitched. “Empty threats, boy.” She said, her tone a little stiff.

“I’m not threatening you. I don’t have any power.” He said, dragging a nail lightly across his skin. It left a bloody line.

The maid held out for a second. But then she relented. “It’s banished. Even if you summon more, they will meet the same fate.”

He blinked. Then he moved his hand behind his head. “I see. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. Demon-worshippers, I assume, would have an understanding of demons.”

“You understand nothing.” She said, her lip curling into a sneer. “And your words are senseless. Demon-worshippers? How does one even worship that which does not exist?”

Eli blinked, too confused to speak. It was a minute before he managed to formulate a reply. “What? I know… what you are. And an actual demon—or devil, or evil spirit, I don’t know—burst from my body literally no more than an hour ago.” He could tell, from the timepiece on the desk. “Are you trying to fool me? You can't hope to succeed, right?”

“You are bereft of your senses.” Nissa said, pronouncing the words slowly.

What was he supposed to say to that? He had no clue. He knew Tzeentch was the god of lies amongst other things, but what was the point? Why gaslight him now? “…well, I guess he’s the god of trickery too. Messing with people just to mess with them seems in character for his worshippers.” He whispered, tapping a finger against his lips, digging up old memories. Like those-… he couldn't remember their names, but those shape-shifting demons.

Nissa’s eyebrows furrowed. “Did you read that in the same tome, the one that taught you that ritual?”

“What are you saying?” Eli asked after a moment. “You think I learned that from a book? That wasn't sorcery! And I’m not a sorcerer anyway. You should know that by now.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Nissa said, crossing her legs. “The truth will be revealed, regardless.”

Eli felt the strength leaving his body, draping himself bonelessly over the pillows. It was even worse if she really didn’t know. And she’d never believe him. Not if she’d been worshipping that thing her whole life.

Nissa was quiet for a second, just staring at him. “Have you not learned the gods are often in conflict? Spreading lies and slander is a common tactic. You are a bigger fool than I thought if you believe everything you read.”

“I didn’t read anything in a book! How many times do I have to tell you that?” He asked, raising his voice. “And the books I did read never said anything about a god of magic, by the way!”

“And why should they have? One can’t know everything simply because they wish to. Did you expect every scrap of fae knowledge to be available to you? You are a child. A human child, who should not be among us in the first place.”

Eli’s mouth opened and closed. He had so many questions. And yet, before he could voice them, he realized he didn’t care. Because it didn’t matter. Those devils would keep torturing him. While he slept, and if he let them out, during his waking hours. And if the Forces of Chaos could help him, he’d simply be out of the frying pan and into the fire.

His mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions. But then a feeling of… terminality came over him. Of inevitability. There was no way out. He was doomed. He didn’t have to lie to himself anymore, hoping for something that would never come. It was over.

He covered his face and cried quietly. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Tomorrow, he would go back. It would feel like forever. Every moment, a pure torture. Distilled torment. Overlaid, one on top of the other. A second. A fraction of a second. So many. Many, many, many. Count them. Keep counting. No matter what. Until it was done.

It was all he could do.

-----------------------

When Eli woke up again, it was like a light switch turning off and on. He opened his eyes blearily, not feeling any better. He’d heard the sound of voices nearby. They were talking about him.

“How did you sleep?” It was Thalion.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “Alright, thank you. What time is it?”

“Around noon.” Thalion said soothingly. He sat on the corner of the bed, hands folded in his lap. His hair was intricately done, and he wore a silver robe. He looked like he just returned from an important meeting.

Silence stretched in the room. It gave Eli time to get his bearings. Nissa was gone, and Morgaine was now looming close to the door.

“Nissa said you ‘banished’ it.” Eli said, meeting her gaze across the room. “’You must’ve thrown it into the Source. I didn’t expect you’d kill it, but I’m surprised you didn’t trap it instead.”

Thalion glanced between them. He didn’t look happy. Though, whether Eli or Morgaine was the cause of it remained to be seen.

 “Elias.” Morgaine said after a while. “Never do that again.” Her voice was like steel.

“You weren’t going to stop." Eli said. "You weren’t going to listen to me. You wouldn’t understand without seeing with your own eyes.”

Morgaine stood there. Then she shook her head almost imperceptibly. “What were you thinking? That I do not understand, more than anything else. How could you release that thing here, in your own home? How could you have done that to yourself?”

“My actions had their intended effect, then." He said softly. "Even if you don’t give up—and I suspect you won’t—at least you’ll be more cautious.”

For the first time since him meeting her, Morgaine seemed genuinely at a loss. She sat in a nearby chair, a scaled hand massaging her forehead. “…Nissa said you were rambling before you fell asleep. Can you tell me what you said?”

“Rambling?” Eli asked. “I’m rambling because she’s either too wilful or stupid to understand?” He shook his head. “Maybe she’s too lowly ranked in the cult. It’s possible you are too—I can’t read minds, after all—but I don’t think so.”

Thalion looked at Morgaine, his eyebrows furrowing. “It seems there’s more you haven’t told me.”

“Oh, for gods’ sake, Thalion. As always, you know nothing. And your presence here is unhelpful.” Morgaine said, glaring at him through a gap in her fingers.

He frowned at her. Then his gaze returned to Eli. “Elias, can you explain? You know I wasn’t present for… whatever it is that happened.”

Eli nodded. Then he did, continuing up to the point where he’d seen the symbol on Nissa’s wrist. He waited for a reaction.

Thalion rested his chin on his palm. He seemed to think about it for a moment. “Somehow, you discovered the existence of Ba’lor, the Lord of Sorcery. That is indeed surprising, as the order is quite secretive. But I don’t see why you were surprised. If she erred, I would not defend her, but Morgaine is a sorceress. It is not unusual for her handmaid to be as well, no?” He asked tentatively.

Eli sighed. “Then it’s true. The cult has been normalized, likely for a long time. Whatever. It’s fine. Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

“The Order of Ba’lor might not be known to all, but it is no cult.” Morgaine said straight-forwardly, crossing her arms. “And it is well-respected. Here, you may speak as you wish. But in front of others, it would be safest to mind your words.”

Eli said nothing. Religion, order, cult—did it really matter what word was used? It didn’t change what they were talking about. Who they were talking about.

“What happened next?” Thalion asked after a while. Since Eli had dropped the issue of the god of magic, he seemingly decided not to press him on it.

“She can tell you. I just-… I don’t think I can talk about it. I’m sorry.” Eli said tiredly.

The room was quiet. Then Thalion spoke again. “Elias, I’m about to tell you something you can’t speak about to anyone else. Will you promise me?”

“I do.” Eli said. He didn’t need to think about it. Whatever it was, who’d he even tell?

Thalion drew a breath. “Very well. I trust your word.” He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Her majesty the queen is a prophet. Lady Faelivrin.” He said to clarify, since the High King had two wives.

Eli raised his head. “I see. I heard very few people have even met her. I suppose it makes sense.”

“Indeed.” Thalion said. “She’s the first prophet in millennia. It’s best to be careful.” His mouth opened and closed. He scratched his cheek. Fiddled with his hair. He seemed unsure of how to continue.

Eli tilted his head. Thalion almost looked embarrassed.

 “She can help you.” Thalion said eventually. “I’ve beseeched her. She has agreed, although a formal appointment hasn’t been made. Rest assured, it will be sooner rather than later.” Brows furrowing, he glanced at Morrigan. “I should’ve done so earlier.”

Eli shook his head. “Not at all. Thank you. I’ll-… I’m unworthy. If It’s her majesty, I’m sure this will soon be over.” Despite his words, he had little hope. According to the history-books, prophets were exceedingly capable at manipulating dreams and visions. But he wasn’t having dreams or visions. He’d known that for a long time. That place, that dark, twisted, doomed world—it was real.

Eventually, Thalion left, though he wished to stay longer. He could be of no more help besides, and had his duties to attend to.

When they were alone, Morgaine stared at Eli for a long while. She didn’t ask him anything, nor did she explain anything.

He raised his palms, gesturing at her. “You must be very confident, leaving me here like this. You didn’t even bother to restrain my hands.”

“You would... repeat what happened this morning? Why?”

“Maybe I’d like one more night’s rest.” He said quietly.

Morgaine stood, running her hands over her curves, smoothing her dress. “I think you are not yourself, Elias. As you are, a discussion will get us nowhere. Rest a few more hours, then we’ll speak again.” She approached the door, making to leave. Eli’s voice stopped her.

“I can’t keep doing this.” He said softly. His hair hung over his face. “I can try to endure, but it’s going to break me. A week from now. A month. It’s already been over a decade.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “It’s been too long. And I’m not strong enough.”

Morgaine hesitated. “Perhaps you can do… what you did again. If there’s no other way. If it provides you some relief.”

“No.” Eli said, shaking his head. “It won’t be enough.” He ran his hands across his face. “The offer is fake. It’s a lie. It can’t be postponed indefinitely. No, not even for a week.” He knew. Because they couldn’t help themselves. Like when they-… when they hurt him. They wanted it to last forever. Foreverrr. If they could stop themselves from going too far, they’d never let him come back. And now, he was supposed to believe they’d let him stay here? Even if he did what they wanted, there was no chance of that happening.

He couldn’t run. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t endure. Not for much longer. Then what? What, what, what? Should. He. Do?

He curled into a ball. He felt the onset of a panic attack. No, more intense than that. His heart hammered in his chest. He hyperventilated. His vision swam, colors and shapes popping in and out of existence. It was mania. Delirium.

The body wasn’t invincible. Nor was the mind. And it had been long. Too long. Cracks had formed, and they had kept spreading. He was going to break soon. The weight of this was going to shatter him into a million jagged pieces.