Chapter 10: Manichaeist Verities
The soldiers' heavy cloven steps gave rise to minute dust clouds, invisible in the dim of dusk, but bringing the bruised prisoner to a fit of coughing, as he was lead before the antlered, crimson haired lieutenant. Without changing his posture, the gravel-voiced officer asked the restrained Seshni, "How many were in the party taken at Pantate Hills?" The Ankylan gestured at the two large guards that each held him in a hammerlock. With a flicker of a cloven finger, the soldiers released their grip, and stepped back.
Patting the dust and dirt from his shoulders and chest, the well-muscled prisoner began, "Well, as far as I can recall," before springing bodily for the lieutenant. Blate made no move to stop the Ankylan as he grabbed at one the falchions at his hip, and pulled it from its sheathe in one fluid motion. The two Chaos Soldiers were spectators as their lieutenant unsheathed and raised his second falchion to divert the attack of the prisoner. His right arm free, Blate parried with his blade, and fed his right hand to the Ankylan, who slashed a line of blood across his exposed palm. This seemed a signal of some sort, as Blate backhanded the prisoner with his wounded hand, sending him reeling into the grasp of one of the large soldiers. The other made to disarm him, his task a redundant one as the two soldiers realised that both blades were now, or still, sheathed, and untarnished, at the lieutenant's side, his white garb immaculate. Despite the force of the blow, the Seshni had only suffered a bloodied lip, and did not appear disorientated when Blate approached him. Studying his right hand as he made a fist, he asked, seemingly disinterested,
"How many were in the party taken at Pantate Hills?"
"Five," answered the prisoner without hesitation. "Two of their number escaped..."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Anya, stop pouting," demanded Willow. "Xander's here, but who knows what's happened to Dawn and Spike?"
"Well, if we could get our powers back, we could wake Xander, and go and look."
"And how do you suppose we do that?" jabbed Willow irritably. Anya missed the sarcasm, and began,
"I've been thinking; maybe if we knocked out Cernus, his binding ward would be released and we'd regain our powers. We could, y'know," she made a swinging motion, "'Ke-Pow!' him on the back of the skull. It might squash his brain or something."
"Nope," volunteered the Mage entering the room; they never seemed to hear him, "neither my unconsciousness, or even my death would break the seal I've placed over you."
"What if we took you hostage and forced you to release it?" questioned Anya brazenly. Shaking his head, he answered with a grin,
"Nope, that wouldn't work either. I couldn't unbind you if I wanted too."
"What!?" exclaimed Anya, "You wouldn't!" Raising an eyebrow, Willow inquired,
"Am I missing something here?" Exasperated, Anya explained.
"He's locked us to a location. Until we reach there, not even that weirdo magician who mumbles all the time could set us free!"
"That's correct," qualified Cernus. "The binding will not dissipate until you set foot in the Tei Chambers of the Cleric Quarter itself, in Arth Demm."
"What's so special about this place? Will our powers be negated?" queried Anya. Absently tapping the side of his nose, Cernus replied,
"Oh no, you're considerable powers and abilities will all be present in full. They will just be of no import." Willow frowned, and Anya looked at him cock-eyed, muttering,
"No import? What about Xander? Why won't his power matter at these Tei Chambers?"
"Because, "he answered, his tone still conversational, "that is where our god resides."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I've been tortured by better than the likes of you!" mocked the struggling vantal. "I've been tortured by a bloody god, you amateur!" Spike reeled and coughed up a mouthful of blood. The lieutenant refused to relent, and continued his ministrations to Spike's torso. He screamed. Mumbling, he uttered, "Is that the best you've got, you poncy bastard? I'm surprised," he coughed again, "surprised you didn't get one of your buddies to be the good cop."
"How many did you original party number?" questioned Blate again. {I like this not. I am no common thug to interrogate and butcher. But, this creature's lack of a soul has proved most inconvenient}. "How many did you original party number?" he asked once more. The vantal caught back a scream, and in a tone of nonchalance that defied sense, answered,
"Can't really be too sure there, mate. Most of us were on the pleasure cruise, but I've a suspicion a pair of Mexican immigrants tagged along too. I think one was called Pablo." Blate continued unabated.
{The Vantal}, thought Blate as he poured water over his hands, considering Spike, shackled before him in heavy chains, {will complicate matters. A more...unorthodox approach will have to be taken}. He gestured, and the guards pulled the vantal to its feet. He studied the beast with great interest. Never had he seen so restrained a specimen as this. Normally, vantals were put down whenever possible, but now circumstance broke that custom. The vantal regarded him with soulless eyes, and a hollow face that bore no mark of the enormous injury his Master had seen fit to inflict upon the creature. Within that seemingly empty stare, Blate deciphered emotion, emotion wrought of despair, and not anger. {Yes. That's just the thing}. Blate watched its eyes intently as he ordered a soldier to bring him the second vantal. The creature's blue eyes screamed bloody murder at Blate, as the little one was led into the tent, barely able to support the hugely heavy chains that shackled her. When the guard released her, she crumpled in a heap on the dry ground. "Take the other away," he ordered. He began fingering his dirk, "Perhaps THIS vantal will prove more forthcoming."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Aw, crap!" exclaimed Anya.
"Your god?" repeated Willow incredulously.
"Indeed," answered Cernus. "I was summoned to him when he sensed your arrival on Ri'Oth. He did not exaggerate how powerful you all are. He very much wants to meet you all."
"Why?" they asked. His brow furrowed, he answered sardonically,
"You know, when your god personally gives you a command, you generally don't question it." Winking, he added in softer tones, "But that doesn't mean I haven't. Its not everyday one encounters as strange a group as yours." Tilting his head to the side, he surmised, "I suppose that some or all of you may hold a special interest for him."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"So I guess we'll be staying here until you find Dawn and Spike?" asked the Wiccan sometime later. Scratching his ear, Cernus replied,
"It was that for which I hoped, and as much as I'd like to bring the five of you to Arth Demm together, we cannot delay here too long. Unless your friends are brought here by tomorrow night, they shall miss us, as we are leaving the dawn after. Willow began to protest, but the Mage interrupted her. "I am sorry, Willow. When they are found I've instructed that their escorts hurry to catch up. Have a little faith," he smiled. "We'll find them."
Cernus left soon after. Anya peeked after him, and asked the redhead, "Why are you so eager for them to capture Dawn and Spike?" Willowed, answered,
"I miss them," while motioning to a piece of parchment on which she was writing. She held it up so that Anya could see it. It read '[I think he has some kind of spell to hear us. If they bring Dawn and Spike here, we can all just jump back to Earth – then return to Ri'Oth but far away from here.]' Anya nodded and winked conspiratorially, then frowned and picked up a quill, writing,
'[What if they've already gone back?]' on the same piece of parchment. Willow shook her head and wrote,
'[She still doesn't know exactly what to do. She'll need me to get it right.]'
'[Oh]', wrote Anya in reply. Willow stared at her, open- mouthed.
'[You didn't need to write that.]'
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Restrain it!" ordered the burly sergeant with a roar, as the Vantal thrashed and writhed in its chains attempting to reach the small figure. The vast muscles of the Chaos Soldiers rippled beneath their bronze skin as they dragged on the chains restraining the beast. Blate allowed himself a sense of satisfaction. Soulless, or no, this vantal would tell him all he knew. Blate crouched beside the crumpled and crying figure of the little one, and raised his dirk.
"Nooo!" screamed the vantal in anguish, attempting to make a one last thrust to try to escape the chains. "I'll tell you what you want!" It was pleading with him. "I'll tell you what you want to know!" The lieutenant lowered his weapon.
"Sergeant."
"Yes, my lord?" replied the sergeant with an honorific that displayed his personal allegiance to the Master General and his House- Battalion. In hushed tones, he replied,
"See that the little one is unchained, watered and fed." Before the sergeant could form his words of protest, the lieutenant answered, "Vantals do not breath, sergeant. See that this is done." The sergeant saluted, palm out.
"Your will, my lord."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Cernus," prodded Anya, gaining the Mage's undivided attention, "you pretty much know that we're not from...around here." Cernus nodded, inviting Anya to continue. "The thing is, we were under the impression that Ri'Oth was, well, a hell dimension, y'know, of the unspeakable horror and torment kind?" He nodded again. "Well, it's not exactly Palm Springs, but I've seen far worse places than here...like Detroit." Willow added,
"Yeah, its not exactly the stereotypical idea of hell here."
"It was," intoned the Mage. "During the Wars of Divine Ascension, this world was plunged into unspeakable horror and darkness. The gods – they endlessly pitted their power and forces against each other, bringing perpetual death and immutable suffering.
"Ri'Oth as it stands today, was only created eight decades ago, with the raising of the MistWall. Deetai and my god are near perfectly matched in the power of their wills. Neither will dare take direct action, for fear of leaving themselves vulnerable to the other. It is a stalemate of truly global proportions. Because of this, it is the armies of the gods that will decide the eventual conclusion to this beyond ancient saga of Ri'Oth...." He mused to himself, "So small a number, deciding the outcome for all of us..."
"What?" questioned Willow, "what does that mean?"
"So many sought dominion over Ri'Oth. So many beings of unimaginable power... a migration of gods. When they first came to this world, they numbered many, Estyarth, among, if not the first. With so many locked in limitless conflict, new gods arose on Ri'Oth, others again arriving from other worlds.
"Millennia ago, three beings emerged, strengthened and hardened by the Wars of Divine Ascension: Estyarth; The Old One, Glorificus; the Glorious, and Deetai, he of power – Warlords all, now WarGods. Few others survived the first centuries of the Triangle Wars."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"What do you want to know you bastard?" asked the caged beast.
"Tell me, vantal, from where do you come?"
The soldiers' heavy cloven steps gave rise to minute dust clouds, invisible in the dim of dusk, but bringing the bruised prisoner to a fit of coughing, as he was lead before the antlered, crimson haired lieutenant. Without changing his posture, the gravel-voiced officer asked the restrained Seshni, "How many were in the party taken at Pantate Hills?" The Ankylan gestured at the two large guards that each held him in a hammerlock. With a flicker of a cloven finger, the soldiers released their grip, and stepped back.
Patting the dust and dirt from his shoulders and chest, the well-muscled prisoner began, "Well, as far as I can recall," before springing bodily for the lieutenant. Blate made no move to stop the Ankylan as he grabbed at one the falchions at his hip, and pulled it from its sheathe in one fluid motion. The two Chaos Soldiers were spectators as their lieutenant unsheathed and raised his second falchion to divert the attack of the prisoner. His right arm free, Blate parried with his blade, and fed his right hand to the Ankylan, who slashed a line of blood across his exposed palm. This seemed a signal of some sort, as Blate backhanded the prisoner with his wounded hand, sending him reeling into the grasp of one of the large soldiers. The other made to disarm him, his task a redundant one as the two soldiers realised that both blades were now, or still, sheathed, and untarnished, at the lieutenant's side, his white garb immaculate. Despite the force of the blow, the Seshni had only suffered a bloodied lip, and did not appear disorientated when Blate approached him. Studying his right hand as he made a fist, he asked, seemingly disinterested,
"How many were in the party taken at Pantate Hills?"
"Five," answered the prisoner without hesitation. "Two of their number escaped..."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Anya, stop pouting," demanded Willow. "Xander's here, but who knows what's happened to Dawn and Spike?"
"Well, if we could get our powers back, we could wake Xander, and go and look."
"And how do you suppose we do that?" jabbed Willow irritably. Anya missed the sarcasm, and began,
"I've been thinking; maybe if we knocked out Cernus, his binding ward would be released and we'd regain our powers. We could, y'know," she made a swinging motion, "'Ke-Pow!' him on the back of the skull. It might squash his brain or something."
"Nope," volunteered the Mage entering the room; they never seemed to hear him, "neither my unconsciousness, or even my death would break the seal I've placed over you."
"What if we took you hostage and forced you to release it?" questioned Anya brazenly. Shaking his head, he answered with a grin,
"Nope, that wouldn't work either. I couldn't unbind you if I wanted too."
"What!?" exclaimed Anya, "You wouldn't!" Raising an eyebrow, Willow inquired,
"Am I missing something here?" Exasperated, Anya explained.
"He's locked us to a location. Until we reach there, not even that weirdo magician who mumbles all the time could set us free!"
"That's correct," qualified Cernus. "The binding will not dissipate until you set foot in the Tei Chambers of the Cleric Quarter itself, in Arth Demm."
"What's so special about this place? Will our powers be negated?" queried Anya. Absently tapping the side of his nose, Cernus replied,
"Oh no, you're considerable powers and abilities will all be present in full. They will just be of no import." Willow frowned, and Anya looked at him cock-eyed, muttering,
"No import? What about Xander? Why won't his power matter at these Tei Chambers?"
"Because, "he answered, his tone still conversational, "that is where our god resides."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I've been tortured by better than the likes of you!" mocked the struggling vantal. "I've been tortured by a bloody god, you amateur!" Spike reeled and coughed up a mouthful of blood. The lieutenant refused to relent, and continued his ministrations to Spike's torso. He screamed. Mumbling, he uttered, "Is that the best you've got, you poncy bastard? I'm surprised," he coughed again, "surprised you didn't get one of your buddies to be the good cop."
"How many did you original party number?" questioned Blate again. {I like this not. I am no common thug to interrogate and butcher. But, this creature's lack of a soul has proved most inconvenient}. "How many did you original party number?" he asked once more. The vantal caught back a scream, and in a tone of nonchalance that defied sense, answered,
"Can't really be too sure there, mate. Most of us were on the pleasure cruise, but I've a suspicion a pair of Mexican immigrants tagged along too. I think one was called Pablo." Blate continued unabated.
{The Vantal}, thought Blate as he poured water over his hands, considering Spike, shackled before him in heavy chains, {will complicate matters. A more...unorthodox approach will have to be taken}. He gestured, and the guards pulled the vantal to its feet. He studied the beast with great interest. Never had he seen so restrained a specimen as this. Normally, vantals were put down whenever possible, but now circumstance broke that custom. The vantal regarded him with soulless eyes, and a hollow face that bore no mark of the enormous injury his Master had seen fit to inflict upon the creature. Within that seemingly empty stare, Blate deciphered emotion, emotion wrought of despair, and not anger. {Yes. That's just the thing}. Blate watched its eyes intently as he ordered a soldier to bring him the second vantal. The creature's blue eyes screamed bloody murder at Blate, as the little one was led into the tent, barely able to support the hugely heavy chains that shackled her. When the guard released her, she crumpled in a heap on the dry ground. "Take the other away," he ordered. He began fingering his dirk, "Perhaps THIS vantal will prove more forthcoming."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Aw, crap!" exclaimed Anya.
"Your god?" repeated Willow incredulously.
"Indeed," answered Cernus. "I was summoned to him when he sensed your arrival on Ri'Oth. He did not exaggerate how powerful you all are. He very much wants to meet you all."
"Why?" they asked. His brow furrowed, he answered sardonically,
"You know, when your god personally gives you a command, you generally don't question it." Winking, he added in softer tones, "But that doesn't mean I haven't. Its not everyday one encounters as strange a group as yours." Tilting his head to the side, he surmised, "I suppose that some or all of you may hold a special interest for him."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"So I guess we'll be staying here until you find Dawn and Spike?" asked the Wiccan sometime later. Scratching his ear, Cernus replied,
"It was that for which I hoped, and as much as I'd like to bring the five of you to Arth Demm together, we cannot delay here too long. Unless your friends are brought here by tomorrow night, they shall miss us, as we are leaving the dawn after. Willow began to protest, but the Mage interrupted her. "I am sorry, Willow. When they are found I've instructed that their escorts hurry to catch up. Have a little faith," he smiled. "We'll find them."
Cernus left soon after. Anya peeked after him, and asked the redhead, "Why are you so eager for them to capture Dawn and Spike?" Willowed, answered,
"I miss them," while motioning to a piece of parchment on which she was writing. She held it up so that Anya could see it. It read '[I think he has some kind of spell to hear us. If they bring Dawn and Spike here, we can all just jump back to Earth – then return to Ri'Oth but far away from here.]' Anya nodded and winked conspiratorially, then frowned and picked up a quill, writing,
'[What if they've already gone back?]' on the same piece of parchment. Willow shook her head and wrote,
'[She still doesn't know exactly what to do. She'll need me to get it right.]'
'[Oh]', wrote Anya in reply. Willow stared at her, open- mouthed.
'[You didn't need to write that.]'
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Restrain it!" ordered the burly sergeant with a roar, as the Vantal thrashed and writhed in its chains attempting to reach the small figure. The vast muscles of the Chaos Soldiers rippled beneath their bronze skin as they dragged on the chains restraining the beast. Blate allowed himself a sense of satisfaction. Soulless, or no, this vantal would tell him all he knew. Blate crouched beside the crumpled and crying figure of the little one, and raised his dirk.
"Nooo!" screamed the vantal in anguish, attempting to make a one last thrust to try to escape the chains. "I'll tell you what you want!" It was pleading with him. "I'll tell you what you want to know!" The lieutenant lowered his weapon.
"Sergeant."
"Yes, my lord?" replied the sergeant with an honorific that displayed his personal allegiance to the Master General and his House- Battalion. In hushed tones, he replied,
"See that the little one is unchained, watered and fed." Before the sergeant could form his words of protest, the lieutenant answered, "Vantals do not breath, sergeant. See that this is done." The sergeant saluted, palm out.
"Your will, my lord."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Cernus," prodded Anya, gaining the Mage's undivided attention, "you pretty much know that we're not from...around here." Cernus nodded, inviting Anya to continue. "The thing is, we were under the impression that Ri'Oth was, well, a hell dimension, y'know, of the unspeakable horror and torment kind?" He nodded again. "Well, it's not exactly Palm Springs, but I've seen far worse places than here...like Detroit." Willow added,
"Yeah, its not exactly the stereotypical idea of hell here."
"It was," intoned the Mage. "During the Wars of Divine Ascension, this world was plunged into unspeakable horror and darkness. The gods – they endlessly pitted their power and forces against each other, bringing perpetual death and immutable suffering.
"Ri'Oth as it stands today, was only created eight decades ago, with the raising of the MistWall. Deetai and my god are near perfectly matched in the power of their wills. Neither will dare take direct action, for fear of leaving themselves vulnerable to the other. It is a stalemate of truly global proportions. Because of this, it is the armies of the gods that will decide the eventual conclusion to this beyond ancient saga of Ri'Oth...." He mused to himself, "So small a number, deciding the outcome for all of us..."
"What?" questioned Willow, "what does that mean?"
"So many sought dominion over Ri'Oth. So many beings of unimaginable power... a migration of gods. When they first came to this world, they numbered many, Estyarth, among, if not the first. With so many locked in limitless conflict, new gods arose on Ri'Oth, others again arriving from other worlds.
"Millennia ago, three beings emerged, strengthened and hardened by the Wars of Divine Ascension: Estyarth; The Old One, Glorificus; the Glorious, and Deetai, he of power – Warlords all, now WarGods. Few others survived the first centuries of the Triangle Wars."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"What do you want to know you bastard?" asked the caged beast.
"Tell me, vantal, from where do you come?"
