The Colors of Alemeth - Vol. 1 Read online
Page 16
CHAPTER 11
Zazgaha
Today, my desire is to shove myself right now in into the sewers, but nothing useful would result from that. Climbing down a manhole during mid-morning…. I’d have a Brigade guard interrogating me after just a few seconds.
The nuns searched the monastery from end to end. No one found anything. No one noticed anything last night. I’d like to know what kind of crappy elite college this is that doesn’t even realize when one of its children disappears.
The commander of the Investigation Brigade sent me home to wait. He says they’re doing their utmost to find Alem. The poor things have absolutely no idea what’s going on. This is Umbra, and Umbra leaves no tracks; not even Defectio, if it so chooses. They’ve hit a wall and won’t be able to get out of there.
I’m on my own.
“I think you have two options: you either continue following the clues to the Great Superstition or forget it and just look for your son instead,” says Ebsa.
The leader of Intellectus is standing in front of me, setting a pile of worn out books on the table.
“I’m sure they’ll take me to the same place,” I answer.
“Of course, still you should focus on one of them. You may have to go down different paths.”
“What did you find out about Qefso?” I ask Qepiem.
“The last time anyone saw him sane, he was heading south. The next umbriferum to see him after that found him already cracked, wandering near the first section of the Great Tunnel of the Rose.”
“Also in the south?”
“Yes. It was in the south that he lost his mind, at least.”
“If Defectio’s headquarters are there, I could find my son….”
“If it’s there and if your child has been taken there, we don’t know,” says Ahavja, the leader’s wife.
“What does the Conclave think?” I ask Ebsa.
“We all agree that the priority is to find Amen. It’s too dangerous for Umbra that Defectio hold such a symbol. Yes, because your son is the most powerful symbol of the Great Superstition. We don’t know what their next step will be, but we cannot let those lunatics hold such power. I think you should try to find out what happened to him in the monastery. We don’t know whether Qefso’s clue will even take you to Defectio, let alone to Amen. He may be somewhere else.”
“I thought that above all things what the Conclave wanted was the piece of paper with the Great Superstition, not an innocent boy.”
“And you’re right, that’s what the Conclave wants. But that’s not what Intellectus wants.”
“The niches have different positions on the subject,” continues Ahavja. “Mysticismi defends the search for the Great Superstition at all costs, claiming it’s a true prophecy, brought into the world by the legendary witch, Vidia of Hearts, centuries ago. In the niche Amoris Christi, the consensus is that the Great Superstition may be a biblical text, lost or censored it doesn’t matter, but one that is essential we find. The feministriae are more neutral, but just hate seeing a man once again in the spotlight, if you ask me.”
“And for us, in Intellectus, it’s ridiculous,” concludes Ebsa. “An urban myth blown out of proportion. The important thing is to find your son because he’s innocent, because he’s a child.”
“The Conclave wants the Great Superstition; you want your son back. Defectio has them both,” says Ahavja.
“What do you know about them?” Ebsa asks me.
“About Defectio? I know almost nothing.” It’s true. “I know they were a niche before they were banished.”
“Exactly.” Ebsa takes a book off the stack on the table, turns a few pages and passes it to me, opened on a page. “But there’s much more to know about them.”
In the middle of the Latin text is a drawing of three hooded men in front of a burning circle.
“The Wheel of Fire,” I note, addressing Qepiem, and remembering Qefso’s crazy speech.
Ebsa nods affirmatively.
“It was their symbol. A circle below the line, on fire. They formed in the thirteenth century, a few years after Redemptio. For a long time these two were allies, working together. Defectio fought and defied the Institution, which was gaining more and more power through the Inquisition, while Redemptio rescued and protected those persecuted by it. It was these two niches that created Umbra, organized it, set its rules. Then came us, Intellectus, and then Mysticismi. It was around that time that Defectio began to diverge from the rest of the niches, though they were only expelled more than two centuries later in 1789. And the theme of the first major discordance… you’ve already guessed it….”
“The Great Superstition.”
“The Great Superstition,” confirms Ebsa. “There was a lot of fear within Defectio as to when it would be fulfilled. They became obsessed. The other niches didn’t understand.”
“And there’s been no relationship between Defectio and the Conclave since it was expelled?”
“No, not of any kind. There’s been no contact between the two sides since September 19 of that year, since what became known as The Last Collusion. Defectio simply disappeared. No one has any idea whether they use the sewers or if they’re even located underground, because at the time everything happened up there. Maybe they’re in Territory 47, maybe it’s all a fantasy. What we do know is that they continue to be horrendously unforgiving and still search for the Great Superstition.”
“Do they have a leader?”
“They do. Vessos is what they call him. It’s said he’s half dead, with putrid meat hanging from one side of his face. There’s a woman at his side, sharing the throne, as they call the leadership position. We still can’t find anything on here, but she must be as sinister as him.”
I look again at the page open in front of me. I can’t speak Latin fluently, but I know enough to understand the first sentence: Zazgaha Worshipers.
“Who is Zazgaha?”
Ahavja picks another book from the pile and passes it to me. It’s entitled Through the Demonic Underworld.
“Zazgaha is an evil force, the god of black fire of a religion that you don’t know about and that existed thousands of years ago.”
“He greatly influences all acts of Defectio. It’s as if they do what they do just to please him.”
“As if he could protect them from the Great Superstition.”
“What foolishness.”
“Maybe. In any case, you should have knowledge of all of this.”
I grab the books and stand to leave that dark blue den.
“If I were you, I’d visit the monastery at night. Without anyone knowing. You’ll be able to walk more at ease, you’ll be able to better comprehend what may have happened to Amen. As an umbriferam you have a different view from that of the Brigades,” suggests Ahavja.
“I’ll do that.”