City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [48]
‘How can I be of help to you?’ Pias’s voice was commanding in the stillness of the large chamber. They walked side by side to one of the front benches, where the priest gestured for the commander to sit down.
Light leaked from the hundreds of candles in the vast space, creating a warmth and peace that seemed unnaturally potent. Incense burned at the rear, sandalwood, the flakes of smoke catching the light.
‘I’m here to ask a favour,’ Brynd said. ‘You already know of our current crisis, so I won’t bore you with the details.’
‘Indeed,’ Pias sighed. ‘This is a grave matter, isn’t it? And how are you coping?’
Brynd related the grim information in its true and honest form. ‘I wonder how long we can survive against such a scale of attack. We’ve decided to request the presence of a lot of cultists to aid us in preparation—’
‘That way lies insanity, commander. Cultists are untrustworthy and unsavoury individuals.’
Brynd knew how much the church disapproved of cultists, but he’d not been aware of this degree of vitriol. Saying nothing, he waited for the priest to go on.
‘They mess with the universe on unethical levels. Of course, Bohr would not approve of their techniques, but they continually perpetuate lies regarding the functioning of this world, commander. You’d do well not to listen to their seductive suggestions.’
‘These are desperate times, I’m afraid. I’m even having to seek the support of some of the street gangs.’
‘Really?’ The priest licked his fingers to slick down some errant strands of thin grey hair. ‘I would not think that such criminals are much use to anyone.’
‘Admittedly, but these are unusual times. Those street men are tough, and they might find some way to redeem themselves . . . in the eyes of Bohr and Astrid.’
‘This is true.’ Priest Pias gave a philosophical shrug.
‘But what I’m after,’ Brynd said, ‘what I need is some guidance. You deliver some enthusiastic sermons here, so they say.’
‘Ah, it has been known, yes. I am passionate about our Jorsalir teachings.’ The priest smiled. ‘But how could this be of any help to a military man?’
‘Inspiration, essentially. I wondered if there are any references in the scriptures to ways of fighting for great causes. Because if the intelligence brought to my attention is correct, we’re dealing here with great evil. You might even say something otherworldly.’
‘A military man wishes for spiritual guidance against the forces of evil?’ Pias could hardly contain his amusement.
Smug fucker, Brynd thought. ‘Not precisely, Priest Pias. But are there such references in the scriptures?’
‘Yes, of course. Although it is not as black and white as one might think. Well, the teachings of . . . the Hunter Saint in particular. His sermons suggested that Bohr and Astrid have demanded such action of our citizens in the past. To protect the realms of yore, in our vast, vast history. Many scholars suggest that inactivity on the part of previous civilizations – the Shalafars in particular – in the names of our creators, led to their eradication. “Because of Bohr’s great mercy to us I appeal to you: offer yourselves as a living sacrifice to Bohr, dedicated to His service and pleasing to Him. This is the true worship that you should offer.” ’
‘I’ve no wish for our people to be eradicated.’ Brynd’s gaze was met by the priest’s.
‘Nor have I.’
‘Here’s how things stand,’ Brynd continued. ‘If our suspicions are correct, this city will most likely fall unless every man and woman wholeheartedly fights for its survival. My soldiers will do all we can to stop them, but I fear the worst. This . . .’ – he sought the word again, for emphasis, no matter how inaccurate it was to how he really felt – ‘. . . evil. This evil will stop at nothing, so I want the people to be willing to fight for their homes – for their very survival. If not that, then for some greater spiritual cause. Perhaps for a rebirth in a new realm, something beyond their present everyday existence. They need