Chapter 14 Of Loyalty and Dissent
"We cannot undertake it alone!" Samson erupted at Thaddeus. His bald head always seemed to glisten when he was distraught. "And even if we could, I'll not be part of an offense on that....abomination of a building without a full battalion at my side!"
Thaddeus' demeanor was a trade-mark of his own; a rather frightening looking man, he always wore dark clothing, and his long hair covered his face. Sometimes, when the light hit him just right, he looked like a member of his old Order. "You do yourself dishonor, Samson! What would you have us to do? Sit around and serve ourselves up on a silver platter for these unholy creatures!?"
A small group of warriors, numbering around two dozen, stood behind Thaddeus, who calmed himself to a reasonable level, and walked next to Samson. He placed a hand on Samson's shoulder, and leaned close to his ear. "You know Abel would have wanted us to be in command. Not some woman, even if she is his widow." At this, Samson became angry and turned to face Thaddeus, "Of course, I do not doubt her will as leader. Between the both of us, though, we have more experience in battle than Anna has even lived. She is just a girl, and we cannot expect much to come from her leadership for that simple reason. Besides, I, unlike her, know the layout of that Tower."
"Only because your own hands fashioned it," Samson said quietly.
"I am transformed, Samson. I realized—"
"I do not care for your realizations with Abel! No one can ever absolve the sins of which you are guilty."
"People change, brother..."
"People are also shaped by their past."
The two men both had logic that was undeniable. They both sat, mulling things over. Thoughts ran rampant through Samson's mind; Thaddeus is right. We have achieved nothing under Anna's leadership...and we do possess some of the most military experience within the Resistance. But...disobeying Anna would be to disobey Abel...
A man from the crowd breaks the silence, "Are we going to get on with it or not?"
"Shut up, I am considering the matter!" There was a pause before Samson spoke again. Samson realized that following Thaddeus' plan could turn out for the worse, but he could not help but think about the far worse fate the humans might suffer should they have continued to follow Anna. Thus, Samson was of one resolve, "Alright Thaddeus, you take point."
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The Devil's Tower stretched into the hopeless abyss of the sky. "It just keeps going..." a soldier said, looking straight up into the sky, unable to see the top, "Huh, I've never actually been this close to it..."
"Well, you are soon to be closer to it than any sane man would dare to imagine..." Thaddeus said, moving through the group of soldiers, his hair twisting in the wind. He moved in front of the crowd and turned to them.
"Alright, brothers! So far, no one has been able to accomplish what we embark upon tonight. Steel thy souls; Failure is not an option! We will be victorious, or we will lie among the corpses of our forefathers!"
In response to his rallying, they uttered a mighty war-cry as they battered their shields and armor with their swords.
A hulking figure of a man came out of the crowd, carrying a large grappling hook with a rope hundreds of feet long. "That ledge up there. Hook onto that ledge." Thaddeus pointed. "You men!" He pointed towards a large opening in the side of the Tower. "Go in through there. Make your way upward. And no matter what you may see or think, do not stop for even a moment lest your resolve wane."
The rogue faction split in half, one part heading up the rope high into the Tower, the other running full bore through a back entrance.
The faction heading through the back door made it in first. They entered into a large circular room, decorated sparsely with torches. As they moved closer to a door in the back of the room, they began to feel a gust of horridly frigid air.
"Hey...uh... we've got a problem...my boots are...stuck to the floor," a soldier says. The others turned to help their comrade. As they tried to pull his feet off the floor, the room began to shake violently.
A deep, bellowing voice that seemed to echo as it spoke, almost ruptured the soldier's eardrums. "Foolish mortals! You are not worthy to set foot here!"
A soldier, remembering the words of Thaddeus, stands tall though hesitant, spear drawn, "Step forth from the shadows, unholy creature, and meet your demise!"
A roar as deep as that of a pride of lions brought the entire faction to its knees. Sleet and hail began to whip across the soldier's faces, with air so cold that it felt like razors against their skin, most of the soldiers went blind. Screams of terror filled the room, almost drowned out by the howling storm. The leader of the faction fell on his back and heard a blast of wind barreling towards him. He rolled out of the way, and heard his comrade, still frozen to the floor, screaming in pain.
He grabbed his comrade's leg and pulled himself up to see his brother totally encrusted in ice. Just then, a huge ice-covered claw swiped through the air, cutting a gash in the leader's chest, spilling his intestines, and shattering his fallen brother. As he lay amidst the frozen flesh and a pool of his own congealing blood, a set of orange eyes emerged from the blizzard, followed by a set of green and a set of yellow.
The huge dog-like beast stood over the dying soldiers, slaver pouring from his triple maw, around his huge fangs, and freezing. The enormous hell-hound then spoke, "You shall all die slowly, until you know the meaning of suffering!"
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The other group heading up the side of the Tower had finally reached their destination. Several soldiers took off their clunky, sweaty armor. Thaddeus and Samson led the way through two large doors lined with chains and spikes, toting a bow and spears, respectively. Another door stood across from the entrance, situated between two twin pillars at the end of the room.
As they began to make their way through the room, they were greeted by hollow voices, one slightly deeper than the other, but almost identical in every other way.
"Brother, I'm afraid we have yet more guests..."
"I see that..."
The soldiers stopped dead in their tracks, and listened to the twin voices.
"Must we entertain them as well?"
"Of course."
"Well, the others wouldn't let us entertain them..."
"Don't sound so solemn, brother."
As the two voices continued to carry on, the soldiers looked around to see the bodies of fallen comrades, reaching all the way back to the beginning of the resistance. "What sort of entertainment do we have waiting for us?" one whispers warily.
"We are gracious hosts!" One voice answers.
"And we," Thaddeus says as he bows slightly, "are but humble guests."
"Finally! Guests that do not wish to abuse our hospitality! Maybe now we can have a little fun!"
"But we must go through!" Samson calls out. Thaddeus had turned to grab his mouth shut but was too late; the damage was done.
Trails of fire whip down one pillar while hurricane-force winds gust around the room. "What a pity. We would have been very generous with you!"
"So true, brother. We cannot let you pass!"
A twister of flames ripped down toward to soldiers. Riding the torrent, twin demonic gatekeepers, both headless and carrying large, serrated scimitars, impacted the ground before them….
Deep within the Underworld, the Rebellious Army had been assembled once more, this time with Alastor as its leader. Lightning cracked in the sky as Mundus appeared overhead. Taking a moment to look around, he surveyed the army and saw that all were present; all but one...
"Loyal servants! I am pleased to see all of you here. On this occasion, however, I must reveal a solemn truth to you all." The army became quiet and listened with intent. "There is a traitor in your midst."
Perturbed commotion stirred within the army, as Mundus' voice boomed in anger.
"SILENCE!
"A traitor, which I have yet to identify, lurks within your ranks. Again, it is time for all of you to decide with whom you place your allegiance. A great storm is coming. Those who have built their loyalty steadfastly upon the mighty rock will be spared. Those who foolishly placed their hope upon the endless, shifting sand will see it fall and be washed away.[1] I tell all of you this in the confidence that you will choose wisely. Many great warriors stand before me, and if there are any among you who have the slightest doubt in my rule, step forward and be granted absolution."
Mundus' eyes smoldered violently as he came to the "offer," making the euphemistic insinuation of its acceptance apparent. A few moments passed in silence, as no one dared to move.
"Excellent."
"As of now, Alastor is your Head Commander." Purple lightning roared across the sky, and Alastor's sword fell in front of the army. From the dragon-head hilt and wing-guard of the broadsword[2], Alastor appeared, sparking with electricity.
"From this point onward, you will answer to him and him alone."
The whole of the army fell to one knee, "Yes, Lord Mundus!"
"Now, leave us."
"Alastor..."
"Yes, Master?"
"As Head Commander, there is something I must show you; a new weapon that has been worked on for decades now, borne of my own mind."
"What manner of weapon is this?" Alastor inquired, placing sword in scabbard.
"One that shall twist the dreams of mankind into one eternal nightmare….."
Thaddeus and Samson, the sole survivors of the encounter with the demonic twins, had made it near the top of the Tower.
Still shaken from the recent bloodbath, Samson asked nervously, "Now what, Thaddeus?"
Looking around with his back to Samson's, he replied, "I am unsure of our path, brother but—"
"Thaddeus! Look out!" By the time he turned, it was too late; he walked right into the crimson orb, triggering the trap. Suddenly, everything around them slowed to a crawl, and the colors of the world were inverted and bleached.
The clopping of horse hooves was faintly heard as a gate of blue flame erupted out of nowhere. A dreadful, gigantic horse covered in blue flames barreled through it, drawing behind it a gothic carriage carrying souls of the damned. The carriage swung around and stopped just in front of the helpless Thaddeus. Instantly, the rider of the horse was in the air, leaping off and moving towards Thaddeus at what appeared to be impossible speed.
As he surveyed the unmoving figure, he spoke: "Ah...Thaddeus...the one who turned...imagine, this power could have been yours..." The Rider extended his hand towards Thaddeus' head as wisps of darkness writhed about his fingers. The ebon tendrils seeped through Thaddeus' flesh and bone and thrashed violently at his mind. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was all over as the Rider negated his time-control. Thaddeus' body crumpled to the ground as droplets of his brain matter fell like silent rain.
Samson ran for the edge, but was almost caught in mid-step by another orb. The Rider appeared in front of him instantaneously, "A friend? Poor freedom fighter." Samson got a good look at the man under the cloak and was shocked to the core of his spirit itself, his face contorting into a grotesque caricature of terror[3]. A raspy whisper escaped the confines of the shadowy hood: "Now…you are free." Samson is grabbed by the arm, and silently thrown over the edge.
"Where are they!" Anna roared, running through the Underground.
The crescendo of Samson's scream was heard even through the solid earth. Anna and others rushed up to the ground and out to the Tower, to find Samson on the verge of death, broken and bleeding.
"...A...Anna..."
"Samson! What happened?"
"Anna...Thaddeus...wanted....to go...without you...wanted to...oh God...The Rider...."
"What Rider?"
"A man...or what used to be...he...a...patch...on his chin...short dark hair…..empty blue eyes...carried a bo....book...k"
Samson gurgled as he choked to death on his own blood. "Rest easy, brother..." Anna reached up and closed his lifeless eyes.
As she walked away from him, through the crowd, she began to play his words back in her mind. Suddenly, Anna's eyes widened in disbelief as she froze in her tracks. She looked down at her right hand which was now sweating as it involuntarily clutched at a brown book.
Not word was spoken out loud, but one sentence repeated endlessly in Anna's mind,
"Father...no, it can't be…he's dead. Father..."
[1] Matt 7:24-27.
[2] There is a discrepancy in the manuscripts here. The recently discovered leaves in the Osmon codex indicate that originally, the demon and the sword were conflated together as one entity. This differs from the translation of a manuscript now known to be derivative, Demon World History, which is housed in the Vatican's Forbidden Text Library. In the latter translation, the sword and the demon are divided into two separate entities, perhaps due to a transcription error or so that it does not obscure certain theological tenets. ~Ed.
[3] Elided in the Demon World History version, a fragment in the original appears to note that "his face did not change at all as he fell from the top," i.e. that is it remains contorted in terror until he makes contact with the ground. Of course, the narrator or author mentions this only to highlight the hideous nature of the character of "the Rider," as it is impossible for the author of the Temenist text to have seen Samson's face during the fall. ~Ed.