"They could be right behind me!" Sabithe said.
Sabithe moved to where he was motioned and waited for what he knew would come next. The moments dragged by — the absolute silence of solace — and the two templar guards, standing with swords drawn, began to get nervous. Sabithe stayed silent, knowing one of them needed to be the first to speak. The air was filled with the hoarse sound of breathing.
Finally, one of the guards, a burly man with a high-forehead, cracked. "What did you see?" he addressed Sabithe.
"Dead, they're all dead. I came from three floors down, and every guard I passed was dead. We need to wake the Primate."
"Shut up," said the other guard, a slim templar, lithe as a cat, with close-cropped black hair. "I need to think."
"I'll go down," said the burly guard. "If you get my confirmation, wake the Primate."
"All right," the slim guard nodded.
Sabithe knew he needed one of the guards to open the Primate's locked door, or he would never succeed in his mission.
The burly guard disappeared down the steps.
"He's right," called up the burly guard a moment later. "There's a dead man here. Wake the Primate. I'll stay here and call out if I see anything."
The slim guard looked nervous, evidently torn between facing whatever may come and waking the Primate.
"I can do it," Sabithe said. "Give me the keys."
The slim guard looked relieved. "Come here," he said.
Sabithe could see the brass keys at the guard's belt, and wondered whether he could take him, if it came to that. But this man was trained, and alert, with his sword drawn. Sabithe was no warrior; he would never succeed.
Sabithe came closer and the guard handed him the keys, keeping one eye on the stairs and the other on the priest.
Sabithe turned to open the door.
"Wait," said the slim guard. "Let me quickly search you first."
The guard began to hastily pat him down. "Stop moving," the slim guard said as Sabithe tried to draw away.
The priest desperately thought of an argument he could provide, a way to get into the Primate's chamber. There was nothing.
As soon as the guard found the prismatic orb, Sabithe knew he was a dead man. The greater tragedy was that he could have ended the war, here and now.
Then a clanging sound came from the heavy door, following by a creaking. The door opened, and a thin figure emerged, clad in a simple white robe, a feverish yellow glow in his eyes, and the look of the fanatic in his sunken face.
"What is it?" the Primate asked.
As the guard reached the pocket of Sabithe's cassock, and found the heavy roundness of the prismatic orb, Sabithe darted his hand into the opening. His finger found the lever, triggering the mechanism.
The orb exploded in a violent detonation of heat and energy.
Sabithe's last thoughts were triumphant.
7
THE Primate tried to open his eyes. The first sensation he experienced when consciousness returned was incredible pain, like nothing he had ever experienced. His body was on fire; burning as if a thousand red hot pokers were pressing into his flesh. If he was flayed, his skin sliced and pulled roughly away from his body, and the raw pulp underneath whipped and then scraped with rough stones, even that wouldn't come close to the pain he felt now.
He opened his mouth to scream, feeling his lips split and warm blood seep out, suddenly realising he was unable to make a sound. Only a sickly gurgle came out. His lungs were filled with liquid; he was drowning in his own blood! Melovar tried again to open his eyes, but they were covered by something moist. Bandages?
"Shh," a calm voice said. "Try not to move. I know you can't breathe, but you can last another moment. Your lungs are filled with elixir — it's the only thing keeping you alive. Don't worry; I've done this several times already. This is the first time you've been conscious for it. I know it's very uncomfortable, but trust me, Primate."
There was a pause, as if the owner of the voice was counting, and then he spoke again, urgently and forcefully. "Now, quick. Cough. Get all the liquid out."
Melovar tried to cough, but his body was too weak, the pain too great. He gulped, like a fish flopping on a beach, but with his lungs filled with liquid he wasn't able to take air in. After so long without breathing, starved of air, he felt the walls of his consciousness close in. It was all going to end here.
Melovar felt the pain fade, and as he fell into darkness he was suddenly at peace. A soft circle of light appeared in the distance, growing closer and closer as he approached. Melovar was with the Evermen, truly content for the first time in his life, and he knew that what he had done was right. Now that he had served his purpose, and the Evermen had no more worldly demands to make of him, others would take up his mission.