The Two Confessions by John Whitbourn (good books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

uncomfortable fact better than words. Then, onefoe vanquished, the old man air-walked back to Trevan.

‘Wepreach Christ-uncrucified,’ he told him. ‘We serve the one-of-two gods whosedomain is pure spirit.’

‘Whereasyou,’ said the emaciated girl, ‘are slaves of the meat god. Therefore, out ofour love for you and all, we desire to give liberation.’

Thatsounded quite promising but the Wizard spoilt things – albeit with more causethan usual.

‘Shemeans kill us, in case you haven't twigged,’ he said. ‘You're kindly offeringto free us from the material world, aren't you?’

Thegirl's eyes didn't shift from Samuel, though they shone brighter and her smilewidened, as if offering her sweetest favours.

‘Whereyou can sin no more,’ the old man confirmed. ‘For doubtless your sins arealready great. Happy cattle-humans, we give you the chance to curtailyour wickedness!’

‘Sleepand sin no more!’ chanted some of the front row, in what was clearly a familiarworship phrase.

Theless stoic among the captives began to struggle, but to no avail and at theexpense of dignity. Main speaker looked a little disappointed at the lack ofthanks.

‘Composeyour last words,’ he said, in a harsh voice that sounded more like his everydaymanner. ‘Bring 'em forward.’

Therelative quiet ceased, replaced by an insect buzz of anticipation. Cacophonywas added at the fringes by admittance of a tide of demi-demons, flooding inthrough burrows as well as more conventional entrances. They swarmed on theedges of the assembly, a white and green and orange surround to the sea ofgrey; pushy but careful to keep a respectful distance from acknowledged racialsuperiors. Their scent preceded them.

Trevanand colleagues were dragged along a Red-Sea-style pathway, and all along handscompeted to touch and fondle them, particularly their behinds and parts. At thevery least it was an undignified way to go. Wulfstan spat great gobs ofretribution but that only seemed to further excite them.

‘Sinno more! Life breeds sin!’ was repeatedly hurled at them - with apparent goodintentions.

‘Two-godders!’someone shouted back. ‘Cross-snappers!’

Samueladmired the Wizard's nerve in trying to goad, but it had the same small effectas the engineer's spittle: a few grimaces, one or two frowns, but nothing more.He was bundled forward just like the others.

Thegunpowder scoop around the monument was full of dead things and bits even thedemi-demonry couldn't stomach. Fortunately therefore, being made to bow low onits edge, honouring the white quartz eye, proved just a pause in the processionwhen they feared being pitched in. The congregation of hundreds followed on,shuffling in their wake.

Therewas a ramp of packed stone leading up to the sister-eye in the wall. Around itwaited groupings segregated from the generality. A few were further handlessones, too weak to move and laid out on stretchers, but others were a contrastand challenge to all else on view. Samuel caught brief sight of flamboyant silkattire, and found irrational consolation in it. Even worn and muddied colourwas seized upon in the present context: proof of a warmer world continuingelsewhere.

Thencloser proximity snatched even that fig-leaf of comfort away. The wearers wereunnaturally tall, and their milk-skinned faces regarded him through unkind eyesof gold.

‘Soul-less!Soul-less!’ taunted the Wizard, employing childish singsong tones. Itnevertheless seemed appropriate. The Church discouraged belief in Elves, oreven mention of them in anything else than nursery rhymes.

Moreover,he'd at last found a route under the skin of his captors, for they seemed waryof offence against these guests. The Wizard’s chant was curtailed by slamminghis face into the dust of the ramp. A knee then pinned it there, diverting allhis energies into acquiring breath.

Hiscomrades soon joined him in the same position, though more gently. Samuel waspermitted to abase himself at his own speed. From that low position he saw apair of uncared-for, uncherished feet float by and proceed further up the ramp.

‘God-of-spirit,’their owner intoned, ‘equal but better, we-....’

Itseemed that they weren't used to any swift response. When the darkness beyond the'eye' dramatically burst into life the assembly voiced both joy and surprise.Samuel used their distraction to raise his head and blinked against the yellowlight and furnace wind. Sweat raced facewards to do its job and got thankedwith instant evaporation. The skin of his brow felt stretched thin, permittingthe sudden heat easier access inside his head. Beyond visions of steam risingfrom his brain thought became difficult.

IfSamuel had it bad then the air-borne 'Bogomil' five paces forward sufferedworse. He clutched (as best a handless man may) at the place where his heartsheltered below displayed-for-view ribs. Plainly struggling, he gulped in airlike a landed fish.

‘Lord...mercy! Be moderate... to... us.’

Hemay have been heard, for the problem abated. 'One-yard-from-a-bonfire' became anice sunny day. The old man staggered back but regained his poise. The annoyingsmile returned.

‘Weare-....’

Whateverit was didn't think much of him, for he was rudely interrupted again. Anend-of-the-world scale noise came forth from the eye, streaming back hair (ifapplicable) and raising hands (if available) to ears. The floating ones, beingboth hairless and handless, had no such recourse and were much afflicted.Samuel was glad to note thin rivulets of red emerge from the foremost speaker'sears.

Thesound then lessened and resolved into voices, albeit a choir with inhumanrange, speed-screaming up and down the octaves. There were words within butSamuel couldn't make them out. Even when the babble slowed and merged into asingle tongue there was still no sense to it.

Thecongregation thought different. Trevan twisted his head left and right and sawthat they were greeting the message with simple glee. The floating skeletons inparticular had lifted their stumps in worship and allowed tears to flow.

Thenthe tirade ended in something even Trevan could understand. Plain English wordsconcluded a long speech in... something else. 'Sweetest quarry...,’ heheard. ‘Sweetest quarry. Hello!'

Theair before the eye throbbed with the aftermath of greeting and expectation ofmore, but mere quiet followed. Only occasional ecstatic sobs from the assemblymarred the silence.

Belyingage and condition, all fired up with zeal, the foremost speaker threw himselfdown and lay outstretched – but still inches off the floor.

‘Wehave,’ he said, ‘oh one-of-two, we have your favoured titbits. Out ofselfless love we bring you succulent delicacies. Forgive our subservience toyour eternal enemy and the urges of this wretched meat!’

Samuelcould not see it, but behind him the flock mortified the flesh, scratching andpinching their bodies till blood came.