Part 8
Iblis rode on through the mist; his run in with the past reminding him of how far he'd come in his quest. Idly, he flicked a spot of the brigand's blood from his leather gauntlet as he thought on the past.
Two years it had taken him to pull himself out of the gutter of decadence; two years to find the answer to a lifetime of questions. In that time he'd learnt more than most ever could in life-long study, and there were things he knew now that had never been known to mortal before... secrets for which he alone carried the keys. Though he did not walk the night as one of "them," still he knew them better than they knew themselves.
The Goddess had sobered him and lent to him direction; his money had paved the path to knowledge in every library and crypt across the realm where secrets lay forgotten yet not dead in the dust of ages; and a body formed by years carving stone sustained him through the perils of his journey. He mastered the art of the blade out of necessity: relics of the past did not always look kindly upon the intrusion of the present.
He'd learnt the secrets of sorcery in a cavern beneath the Bay of Ocllo, where once a long dead mage had unleashed a power so great the resulting cataclysm sank the hill upon which his tower sat deep into the bowels of the fiery earth; the deep crater now long forgotten beneath the harbor of an inland sea. A savage deep within the swamps of a lost land had taught him how to read of distant happenings in the entrails of a crow, and to unlock the secrets of past and future in the viscera of a human being. Iblis thanked him by describing to the dying shaman visions of the future he read as his fingers wound their way through the old man's intestines. When Iblis finally let the old one die, he reached into the man's chest and ripped out his fast-cooling heart. He feasted on it in a ceremony old when the virtues were young, ingesting generations of shamanic knowledge even as the blood dribbled forth over his lips. He howled in ecstasy through the moonless night as the knowledge of generations overloaded his senses, giving birth to a sixth; and it was not until the moon had fully been born into the night sky that he recovered from the madness.
Setting forth immediately, he traveled to that ancient fortress perched on the crags of a cliff that defied the eternal onslaught of the northern seas... Gehenna. He did not remember at which point he'd come to realize what Illestra truly was... Vampire. It mattered little when, it was enough now that he knew. And he would learn their secrets even if he had to walk their very halls to do it. After all, the servant of a Goddess must know all he can to serve her best. He devoured the knowledge which bowed shelves beneath it with the weight of ages; and in a nearby cottage found a treasure trove of texts kept by some nameless and long dead chronicler. He consumed them all in an orgy of parchment and flesh, surrounded on all sides by texts and scrolls, tablets and bones. The leaves of unread tomes fluttered insanely as a howling wind tore off the seas through decayed shutters; yet it mattered not to him what pages lay open as the concepts of time and chronology were but mewling babes to much of the eldritch lore contained within. For days on end he read of their secrets, past, present and future; neither food nor sleep did he require. The powers of meditation were enough to drive him ever onwards, though the light of madness had once again begun to dance in the depths of his eyes. When he finally staggered forth into the light of a sun he'd not seen in days, he did so with the knowledge of a God, and his eyes cast defiant arrogance at all the world around him.
Only one thing remained still beyond his grasp... the Goddess, and the life she would bestow upon him. And now he could go to her with full knowledge of what it was he asked.
It was thus that he reigned in his steed in the shadow of a tower his informants had located, where they believed she lay. He didn't bother to tie the horse to the overgrown post outside as he stepped forward towards the double oaken doors. Truly, there was more than one threshold he would pass this night. And with the kiss which awaited him, he would truly be, unto a God.
Two years it had taken him to pull himself out of the gutter of decadence; two years to find the answer to a lifetime of questions. In that time he'd learnt more than most ever could in life-long study, and there were things he knew now that had never been known to mortal before... secrets for which he alone carried the keys. Though he did not walk the night as one of "them," still he knew them better than they knew themselves.
The Goddess had sobered him and lent to him direction; his money had paved the path to knowledge in every library and crypt across the realm where secrets lay forgotten yet not dead in the dust of ages; and a body formed by years carving stone sustained him through the perils of his journey. He mastered the art of the blade out of necessity: relics of the past did not always look kindly upon the intrusion of the present.
He'd learnt the secrets of sorcery in a cavern beneath the Bay of Ocllo, where once a long dead mage had unleashed a power so great the resulting cataclysm sank the hill upon which his tower sat deep into the bowels of the fiery earth; the deep crater now long forgotten beneath the harbor of an inland sea. A savage deep within the swamps of a lost land had taught him how to read of distant happenings in the entrails of a crow, and to unlock the secrets of past and future in the viscera of a human being. Iblis thanked him by describing to the dying shaman visions of the future he read as his fingers wound their way through the old man's intestines. When Iblis finally let the old one die, he reached into the man's chest and ripped out his fast-cooling heart. He feasted on it in a ceremony old when the virtues were young, ingesting generations of shamanic knowledge even as the blood dribbled forth over his lips. He howled in ecstasy through the moonless night as the knowledge of generations overloaded his senses, giving birth to a sixth; and it was not until the moon had fully been born into the night sky that he recovered from the madness.
Setting forth immediately, he traveled to that ancient fortress perched on the crags of a cliff that defied the eternal onslaught of the northern seas... Gehenna. He did not remember at which point he'd come to realize what Illestra truly was... Vampire. It mattered little when, it was enough now that he knew. And he would learn their secrets even if he had to walk their very halls to do it. After all, the servant of a Goddess must know all he can to serve her best. He devoured the knowledge which bowed shelves beneath it with the weight of ages; and in a nearby cottage found a treasure trove of texts kept by some nameless and long dead chronicler. He consumed them all in an orgy of parchment and flesh, surrounded on all sides by texts and scrolls, tablets and bones. The leaves of unread tomes fluttered insanely as a howling wind tore off the seas through decayed shutters; yet it mattered not to him what pages lay open as the concepts of time and chronology were but mewling babes to much of the eldritch lore contained within. For days on end he read of their secrets, past, present and future; neither food nor sleep did he require. The powers of meditation were enough to drive him ever onwards, though the light of madness had once again begun to dance in the depths of his eyes. When he finally staggered forth into the light of a sun he'd not seen in days, he did so with the knowledge of a God, and his eyes cast defiant arrogance at all the world around him.
Only one thing remained still beyond his grasp... the Goddess, and the life she would bestow upon him. And now he could go to her with full knowledge of what it was he asked.
It was thus that he reigned in his steed in the shadow of a tower his informants had located, where they believed she lay. He didn't bother to tie the horse to the overgrown post outside as he stepped forward towards the double oaken doors. Truly, there was more than one threshold he would pass this night. And with the kiss which awaited him, he would truly be, unto a God.
posted by Shadowsong | 11:34 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home