The Lost Book of Chaos: How to Divide the World (The Secret Wars of Angels 1) (2 page)

“If I press this stone here,” Fielle mumbled to herself, “then press this wall there... Then move over and stand here...”

She felt her cheeks flush out of the silliness of the situation, deep inside she was glad that there was no one here to see what she was doing.

“Then I say seven times... A-leph-lamed-hey-mem! I seek the Spirit Of Truth!”

Fielle froze. There was a soft sound from the back of the Church. She turned to make sure no one was there. No one. She sighed in relief.

Fielle repeated the words. On the third try, there was another soft sound from the back of the Church. Fielle waited, but there was nothing. So she continued.

At the start of the seventh repetition, there was a soft grumbling. She couldn't believe that the ground had begun to shake, just as Judas had warned her. She lowered herself on all fours for balance.

She had to finish this. “I seek the Spirit Of Truth!”

Eruptions sounded from multiple directions, everything seemed to fall apart, Fielle thought the Church would just fall on her. The columns started shifting, falling, falling towards her.

She was going to die.

But the columns did not fall. She realized the columns hadn't actually fallen, instead, the columns moved! But while she was still alive, her problem now was that there was no way out. Everywhere she looked, all the paths were blocked. She was trapped in the middle of the Church, and worse, no one aside from Judas knew she was here.

“Great,” Fielle said, trying to calm herself down, “now what?”

That was the end of the instructions of Judas. She tried to recall what else he had said, but there was nothing else. Fielle tried to feel her way around the columns that now made a wall around her, maybe there was a mechanism for opening a hidden entryway.

“Ow!” Fielle said, because as she felt through the column-walls, a sharp edge cut her hand. Luckily it was just a small cut.

Fielle continued, this time slowly, and more carefully. But there was nothing.

She looked up, hoping there was a way of climbing up the upper reaches of the Church, where light slanted down to where she was. But there were no handholds, and even if there were, Fielle was not the type who could climb walls like that.

She sat down, giving up. As she did, something clanged beneath her. She touched it, hoping it would be something useful. What was it? There on the floor, embedded into a tile, was the shape of what looked like...

A broken sword!

How did she miss this? Hurriedly, Fielle pried it with her fingers, and surprisingly it came out rather easily.

Nothing happened. Now what?

She took it in her hands, careful not to cut herself with it. The blade looked ancient, but there was no rust. But she could tell it did not come from any recent moment in time. First, because swordsmiths were practically non existent in the last two centuries, because swords were rendered useless by the advent of technology. Second, she had never seen a real sword before, only in pictures.

Fielle turned it over several times, wondering how the things Judas said were actually coming true. The sword was broken above the hilt, the blade extended only a few inches. It had a golden hilt, and the blade was made of silver. The golden hilt had the appearance of a snake coiled around itself, with life-like scales, and the tip of the hilt ended with the head of a snake. She marvelled at the craftsmanship, considering this must have been done by hand and not machinery. Such precision!

Even the head of the snake looked real, as if it would come alive any moment and bite her. Of course, the snake couldn't possibly be alive, but after all that she had seen today, it would come as no surprise.

Now what? She had the sword, but she had no way out.

Then she remembered something else that Judas had said. It was not part of the instructions that Judas had given, but something else he had mentioned as a ‘key’.

Judas had said something like... “The key is that your blood will become my blood, and my blood will become your blood.”

It didn't make sense to her. There was no possible scientific explanation for any of this. If this was made even two hundred years ago, how can the sword be made to respond to blood? The people then did not have the sophisticated technology to make a sword that could respond to blood. But the people now did not have the reason for crafting it either.

But everything else didn't make sense as well. How can it be that a Church from two hundred years ago had stone columns that moved around in response to a sequence of patterns and words, and at such scale and complexity! Who would build this, and why? There were no records that she knew of, even of the most complex buildings in those times, of such a type of building or this nature of construction.

“Here goes,” Fielle said as she flinched at the thought of cutting her own hand, even lightly. She needed to make sure that the wound was only skin deep, just enough for some blood to flow but not to cause any serious injury.

Fielle closed her eyes, then gently slid the edge of the blade in her hand. The moment she felt the prick of the blade, she stopped. Her blood trickled from the sword.

At that moment, the world became still, and there came a series of flashes, memories, and visions of many lifetimes. At that moment, the secrets of the world were revealed to her. The Spirit of Truth was inside her.

Fielle fell on her knees, weak from all the revelation. She had not realized the columns were now back in place, the same as before she had arrived.

She tried to stand up, but even before she could, she gasped as she saw the shadow of the woman standing in front of her.

Circa 30 A.D.

2000 years before the Battle of Slayers.

It was terrifying. The world he once thought he knew had turned upside down. And it happened all in the course of a few days.

Friendships that once tied them together, now the same ties that ripped them apart. People who chased after the good of all became the very evil that the society warned against. He knew, because that was how his world had erupted into total chaos.

Judas ran on the rooftops of the city.

Behind him, men and women, young and old, bearing cudgels and kitchen knives and wooden clubs, chased after him, cursing and screaming. A small crowd followed the chase from the streets below, watching the commotion the way they watched entertainment in the arena. His pursuers weren’t warriors; they were mere villagers believing that what they were doing was for the good of all. Their lack of military training should have given Judas an advantage, the only problem was, he too was not a soldier.

Judas jumped across and landed on another roof, then turned in another direction. The next jump was quite far, but it was perfect for his purpose. For a brief moment, he peered below.

The people below looked small, too small for his liking; any miscalculation on his part would mean the end of him. But, so would getting caught. The former was probably a quicker death, the latter he did not want to think about.

For a brief moment, he remembered the image of his Master standing to his right. Crucified. Tortured. Dead. His last words to him...

“Find Sky Jerusalem,” the Master had said. “In that place, we will meet again.”

Judas tried not to shudder. Now was not the time to doubt himself, because any hesitance could prove fatal.

Gritting his teeth, he ran. He ran as fast as he could. The key to surviving the jump was momentum. At the last moment, Judas leapt, crying out in a loud voice as if the world was about to end.

But although he cried his lungs out, he couldn't hear anything. The streets below seemed to pull him down, even his voice disappeared in it and the very gravity seemed to double. While in mid-air, the other side looked far, too far!

This was the end for him.

At least until he felt his feet touch the roof, and he rolled himself down to get to safety. Judas grunted as his body landed on the other side, his vision momentarily turning black. Judas tried to catch his breath, then erupted in an uncontrollable mad laughter.

By the time he looked back, he saw that his pursuers had paused, hesitant. No one would be crazy enough to traverse the air with such distance.

However, one of the pursuers, a young man who had freckles on his face, a foolish man by the looks of it, looked like he was about to try.

Judas shook his head, cursing, as the young man prepared himself for a run.

The idiot!
Judas cursed again, mentally.

The young man’s starting run was too slow, the momentum would not be enough. The jump... Oh the jump was hopeless.. Judas thought.

All scenarios pointed to the conclusion that the young man would die. The only way the young man would survive was if—

Do not attempt to save him.

Judas froze.

The voice sounded raspy and inhuman and sent the hairs on the back of his head standing on end. Had he gone crazy?

But there was no time, Judas rushed forward and reached out for the young man, hoping to get there in time. However, the slight delay had made the difference, and no matter how hard he tried he could not reach the young man. But rather than fall, the young man had somehow managed to hold on to the edge of the roof, but there was a loud sickening sound of bone cracking.

Which bone, Judas did not know, but he was not in the mind to find out. One or both of the young man's arms were broken from the way the man hung on to the ledge. The young man’s face was twisted in agony.

You don’t have to do anything.
The raspy voice in his head said.

Just let it happen.

If you let him fall, it will not be
on
you.

Great. All he had endured in the past few weeks must have driven him nuts to the point that a strange imaginary voice was talking to him. But now was not the time to worry about the inhuman voice.

Judas tried to ignore it, then reached out and grabbed the young man with both arms, and heaved with all his might. The young man cried in pain, and Judas heard the sound of more bone cracking as he did so—that if the young man’s arms were not broken before, Judas was quite sure they were now.

Judas broke in a mad laughter.

First, he had almost died. And now, he was saving someone who was trying to kill him. Madness!

“He broke my boy’s arms,” one of the pursuers on the other side of the building cried. “He broke my boy’s arms!” Well, so much for helping someone.

The voice in his head growled.
Someday your sympathy for your enemies will bring death to us all, choosing you for such a great task was a mistake,
the inhuman voice spoke in his head, but this time, the voice trailed away and sounded as if it had lost interest in Judas and had focused its attention on other more important things.

Good. If his imaginary voice had gone somewhere else, it was all for the better.

Judas turned to run, but the young man behind him held his ankle. Judas looked at the young man. Now what? But the young man simply attempted to smile, a twisted expression that would haunt him in his dreams.

“Thank you,” the young man said before letting go. Judas was thankful to be rid of the young man.

Judas dashed forward, but the problem was becoming evident. He was running out of roofs as he was nearing the northern edge of the city. Well, it had to happen sometime. Lucky for him the city had no walls, so he could get out. But unlucky for him, doing so would put him in the open, vulnerable if his pursuers rode on horseback. He was safer in the city, where the population could hide him, than out there. And besides, where would he go?

Reaching the farthest roof, he climbed his way down as careful as he could. As he did, the strange voice spoke to him again.

Don’t you miss the times when things were much different?, Judas the traveller! Judas the teacher! Judas the healer! Now, you are only Judas Iscariot, The Betrayer!

The voice laughed.

He felt too tired to worry about what it all meant. What was this voice doing in his head? But, indeed, he had lived that life once. It seemed like a lifetime away. But the past was the past and there was no use dwelling in them. Judas gritted his teeth and growled at the voice, willing it away, but as if to mock him, the voice continued.

Now, the same people whose sicknesses you have healed hunt you down. Those you have fed when they were hungry, those you have taught how to make a living for themselves, and the same people who you have given hope to in their moments of desperation, they all want you dead. The world has betrayed you. Only I am here, only I have stayed on your side.

“Well I’d rather not have anything like you on my side at all,” Judas said. But there was no answer. Maybe the creature, demon, or whatever it was, and whether real or imagined, could not hear him.

The voice wasn’t totally wrong either. The world
had
turned against him. And in this upside-down, fickle, cursed world, Judas had learned something important to survive. Trust no one. Question everything. And never assume anything as truth. Always test the truth that you knew.

Because to doubt was to live.

And to believe was to die.

Suddenly, the inhuman voice chuckled. It sounded amused, and even satisfied, with how Judas was thinking. Could it hear him or his thoughts after all? But he had bigger worries. His pursuers had caught up to him faster than he thought they would. He had hoped to get to the forest across the edge of the city before they caught up, but it was still too far away and he probably would not make it. Instead, he headed back inside the city and turned around an alley, hoping to lose his pursuers in the cover of the crowd and the houses.

Just a little more. As he ran, Judas felt the air burning inside his lungs like liquid fire. A sharp pain stabbed him on the side of his chest. His right leg throbbed, protesting against every stride he took. But he would not give up.

Perhaps, just a short moment to rest. Judas turned around the corner. He didn’t have long. He never did. His heart boomed in his chest as if it would rip itself out. He had heard it beating loudly in his ears for a while now, and part of his face had started to feel numb from the exertion.

After a few forced breaths, he took the opportunity to peer back at his pursuers around the corner, and was relieved to find that many of them had stopped too. He realized that they were probably more out of breath than he was.

But complacency was the mother of all mistakes. He would never be complacent. Never again. He turned deeper into the alley, intent on putting as much distance as he could between him and his pursuers, but even as he did, his legs gave way. He groaned as his knees hit the cobbled road. When he tried to get back on his feet, his knee buckled.

Was this the end for him? But no, there was always a way. There
had
to be. He didn’t go through all this trouble just to fail here. Judas gave a start as someone whistled a soft sound a short distance away. A woman had spotted him. Was she one of them?

Here!
The young woman mouthed, as if careful so his pursuers wouldn’t hear. The woman opened her door and gestured for him to hurry.

Was this a trap?

Judas suspected the woman might be pretending to help him now, only to have the bounty on his head all to herself later. But right now Judas didn’t have much of an option. With one leg failing him, Judas pushed himself up, then half hopped, half crawled to the house like a lame dog. Seeing how slow his pace was, the woman rushed towards him and pulled him along. Judas didn’t know if he should be thankful for her ‘help’ because, for all he knew, this was all an act. Though he figured, his odds were probably better facing one woman than a group of villagers. That was, of course,
if
she was alone.

It seemed like it took such a long time to get there, each step taking longer than they should, somehow it always felt that way when he was on the brink of life and death. Either that or when he was in tremendous pain. Everything seemed to slow down to a certain degree as if to give Judas a chance to relish his last moments alive.

But finally, they succeeded and got to the door just a few moments before his pursuers caught up with them. The woman looked left and right to make sure no one had seen them before finally closing the door. Judas took a quick glance to make sure there was no one else inside the house who might catch him off guard. Surprisingly, there was no one there aside from her. Good, that gave him better odds of living through this. But Judas had to wait before trying anything. If he fought the woman now and the woman screamed for help, he would be done for.

The woman listened with her ears on the door, waiting. After a while, the pursuers passed by, and the sound of their footsteps trailed away. Tension turned into relief. But now, he had another problem to deal with, although much smaller. The woman still had her back turned to him, listening by the door. Should he attack the woman now and catch her off guard? Though he didn’t like the thought of turning on the person who had just helped him, Judas needed to do what he needed to survive. He wouldn’t hurt her badly; just enough to maybe knock her off her senses and then tie her to a chair while he escaped. There was, of course, the other possibility that she was someone who wanted to help... But it was too risky. His life was on the line here.

Judas approached, ready to grab her. The woman suddenly turned and dashed at him with surprising agility. Judas put out a hand forward in a feeble attempt of a punch, but missed. Judas struck again, but the woman’s nimbleness made her seem to disappear right in front of his eyes. He swung his fist in a wide arc, hoping to catch her with it. All he needed was for one blow to hit, aside from her speed, she didn’t look very strong.

Judas gritted his teeth as the woman’s knee caught his side and forced him to tumble backwards. He grunted in pain as the woman's foot landed on the side of his head. He tried to regain his balance but even before he could recover, the woman took his legs off the floor with a sweeping kick.

He tried to stand up, but the woman was already on top of him, and she pressed a small blade dangerously against his neck. There was a prick of pain, and he felt sweat—or perhaps blood—drip down his neck. Judas had no idea how it had happened so fast. Judas cursed; he had underestimated her, and not by a small margin. He realized that she was probably more dangerous than the group he had just escaped from. At least his pursuers weren’t trained to fight like her.

“Who are you and why were they chasing you?” The woman demanded. “DO NOT LIE. I will know if you’re telling the truth. And try anything like that again, and I will slit your throat.” Judas wailed weakly. He blinked away the tears that began to form in his eyes.