Silus couldn't breathe. He tried to shut his eyes but one of the Chadassa maidens forced his head back, while another pried his eyelids open with her claws.
'Say it,' she hissed into Silus's face.
Silus didn't know what she meant at first, but as the eyes of the Great Ocean bore into his, he finally understood.
'He is the Great Ocean.'
The Chadassa maidens released him and returned below.
Behind the Great Ocean Silus could see that the temple was filled to capacity, the Chadassa's awe at seeing their god made flesh obvious in their humble and prostrate forms.
'What… what have you done to Zac?' Silus said.
'There is only the Great Ocean.' The thing said, the congregation repeating its words just a fraction of a second later so that they echoed from the temple walls.
'And Belck?'
'His doubt undid him.'
The Great Ocean took Silus's hand and turned him to face the congregation.
'Behold your salvation! The father of a new generation of Chadassa that will lead us all into a brave new era. No longer will we have to share this world with the humans. No longer will we have to remain beneath the waves. Soon all will be as the Great Ocean.'
The congregation raised their voices in thanks and praise and, as they looked at him standing there, Silus could sense the weight of their need and the hope that they had placed within him. Despite himself, he felt a surge of pride and anticipation. That just one human could bring about such a transformation was astonishing. But then, he considered, he wasn't really human. The Chadassa were as much his people as they had been Belck's.
When the Great Ocean joined the congregation in the words of an ancient litany Silus closed his eyes, trying to picture his wife and child as they had been at Zac's birth, hoping that the image would shake him free of the creature's thrall. He tried to remember the fierce love that he had felt as he held Zac in his arms for the first time, and the look of happy exhaustion on Katya's face. He asked for their forgiveness.
The voices in the temple fell silent and the great double doors at the far end of the hall swung open. Silus realised that his time had finally come.
Weakly he submitted to the Great Ocean as it handed him to its acolytes. He didn't fight as they raised him up and carried him forth.
As they proceeded from the hall and out into the passage beyond Silus looked at the murals that decorated the walls as they scrolled slowly past. Scenes of conquest and icons of Chadassa leaders had been chiselled into the stone, some with surprising finesse considering the creatures behind the art. One face he saw looked familiar and as they neared the mural Silus realised why this was. He was looking at himself. The likeness may not have been painstakingly accurate but whoever had worked the stone had certainly managed to capture his essence. This was not a new mural either, the stonework was worn in places and covered with sea lichens. Looking up at himself, as he was passed from hand to hand, Silus realised then that this final act really was his destiny. This was where he was supposed to be. It had been foretold.
He had fought and fought, drawing his family and friends into an unnecessary conflict when he should have given himself to the Chadassa when they had first called.
The regret that Silus felt at this, however, was dispelled as he was brought by acolytes of the Great Ocean before the Queen.
The powerful musk of the creature rolled towards him on a warm current and Silus inhaled the scent deeply, letting her perfume fill him with a fierce arousal, of which the touch of the Chadassa maidens had been but the merest taste. The great mound shivered as he drew near and, the folds of flesh gently parting before him, the Chadassa Queen blossomed.
Silus didn't hesitate to enter her embrace.
After all, his destiny had been written in stone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Querilous Fitch removed his sodden shirt and threw it into a corner where it hit the floor with a wet splat. For a moment he considered removing his trews also — anything to allow the air to get to his clammy skin — but that, he thought, would be a step too far and not an act befitting the dignity of the Final Faith's Head Inquisitor. His predecessor hadn't been so coy by all accounts, in fact it had been said that Master Mullens sometimes used his nakedness to facilitate his acts of torture. Querilous, however, preferred to perform his duties clothed, even in the overpowering heat of this particular dungeon.
Here they were too far below ground for the light channelled by the cathedral's sun traps to reach the chamber. Instead the room was illuminated by the torches that ringed the walls and the glowing coals of braziers.
Above one of the braziers hung the Chadassa prisoner. Querilous had suspended the creature above the fire until its scales had dulled and cracked, and even then it had refused to struggle or make a sound. It wasn't that the thing was unconscious, it just appeared to be particularly obstinate. The Chadassa hadn't made a sound since it had been captured and Querilous's mind probes had been unable to elicit any useful information. That was why he had brought the creature to the deepest dungeon in Scholten Cathedral, for it was here that some of the more arcane torture equipment resided.
As the usual methods had failed him, it was time to turn to the knowledge of the Old Races.
Querilous lowered the specimen to the floor and doused it with a bucket of water. With the help of his assistants he then carried the creature to the equipment that dominated the far end of the room. Querilous had helped build this particular device himself, working to dwarven plans that had been painstakingly translated by Faith scholars. The design for the equipment came from the age when the Old Races had been at war, and it would appear that it had originally been intended to torture elves. Querilous, however, had altered the construction so that it could accommodate any type of prisoner. The machine had been used only a handful of times so far and two of those occasions had been test runs, utilising subjects who had volunteered from among the Faithful; righteous masochists happy to give their lives to a holy cause.
Querilous didn't understand such people. He himself had experienced some of the incredible pain the machine was capable of delivering and that was only because he had accidentally touched one of the contacts during the powering-up process. He couldn't imagine anyone putting themselves through such suffering voluntarily.
The prisoner was strapped into place and Querilous's assistants opened the valves that allowed the flow of arcane energy to suffuse the frame of the machine. The inquisitor donned a pair of smoked-glass goggles. He had no such protection to offer his assistants. However, their ensuing blindness would be the insurance the Faith needed to avoid them accurately describing the mechanisms of this wondrous toy to any potential Brotherhood spies. Sadly such impostors were everywhere.
The power of the machine rolled from it in cool waves, goose-pimpling Querilous's skin and making him wish that he had kept his shirt on. There was a raw mineral smell in the air and the hairs on his arms started to prickle. The crystals embedded in the frame glowed a deep umber, gradually changing into an intense lavender as the power levels rose. The torches on the walls flickered out and Querilous found himself momentarily deaf as the air pressure in the room increased. But then his ears popped and the roar of the device at full power came at him.
Querilous turned one of the valves attached to the frame and the webbing holding the Chadassa in place started to glow. And now he really did see a change in the prisoner's attitude for, as the smell of ozone intensified, something like fear glittered deep in the creature's eyes.
'Now, will you talk?' Querilous shouted, the howling of the machinery almost drowning out his words.
The Chadassa reached for him, its talons weakly opening and closing just inches from his face.
Querilous smiled and removed a crystal from the frame.
A jagged shard of lightning arced between the creature's shoulders and it cried out.
'What, what was that? I can't hear you.'
Querilous knew that he wasn't supposed to enjoy the act of torture — it was a holy rite, a spiritual duty to be
