Interlude 1/3
The halls of the Vatican were normally busy - bustling with activity. From the outside it was not obvious just how much of the world was ruled - only spiritually of course - from Rome and at the word of the cardinals and popes at the head of the Church.
Nothing compared to how it used to be. It used to be the case that kings and empires rose and fell by the wave from the throne of St Peter. Wars, crusades, armies marching forth under the banner of the cross. Rivers of gold flowing from across the sea as churches were built from precious stones, inlaid with gold and decorated with the finest works of craftsmen from across the world. It had made its mark on the buildings which surrounded Fabro Rowan as he made his way through the edges of the Apostolic Palace. There were dozens of Magus and their operatives combing the city to unravel enough of its secrets. This required co-ordination, a certain amount of communication and a great deal of discretion. Fabro was incredibly bored of the whole thing. Still, nobody else here was capable of managing it. He could feel the geas, crawling under his skin and across the remains of his nerves. It was something he would have to study more later, when it would not be catastrophic for him to move against it.Normally any creature like him would be destroyed by the Executors but with the assistance of several insiders he had been able to move freely everywhere other than the central papal apartments. Those were still kept secure against all invaders, at least until tonight. This would be the last and most significant meeting of the agents from Clocktower before the next summit. Then he could finally get away and back to his own business. Even more than the geas, the atmosphere made him itch in Rome.
Eventually he managed to weave through the patrols to the Borgia Apartments. The walls here were beautiful, a demonstration of the power of a single family which dominated the Church and, through it, the world. They had since gone virtually abandoned, a reminder of what was now considered to be dark times of the papacy. As he walked through the halls, some of the luxurious apartments used for storage and other lowly purposes, the musty air started clearing a little. It was a subtle sign of what was to come as he walked around one corner and through the barrier which marked the atelier they had set up to conceal their base in Rome.
A shiver, a sense of movement and distance.
The Atelier flowed around the new addition and absorbed it.In moments the corridor was empty again.
On the other side it was a different world. The air was sweet and clean. The walls had been scrubbed in places and runes carved into the walls. With this many families working together there had been the resources to make this place like a castle. The barrier was so subtle that even Fabro could barely detect it knowing it was there. At the same time he would have struggled to force his way in - his powers didn’t lend themselves to destroying the equivalent of castle walls with brute force. It was perfect for the task at hand. The lesser Magus scurried at his entrance and took care of the devices and rituals which were going on, preparing materials for the people who ventured outside. They kept those few in number for fear of being followed back. Without the Atelier it would have been claustrophobic and fearful.
They had a fine view over the squares and parks from here, illuminated by the moonlight and what stars could make it through the clouds. There were shadows everywhere, long, dark and pointed where the architecture has the old gothic style. The grounds of the Vatican were laid out before them as the reports came in. It was not news that made any sense. The apartments had been infiltrated, yes, but they were mostly clear of daemonic influences. The only room which was suspect had more than one death in it recently. Not the only ones too. Deaths, many of them, almost at random throughout the machinery of the Curia. Fabro kept his own opinions on what wasn’t mentioned. The Magus here seemed to be dancing around the subject. Many of the deaths were of people who should have been keeping demons contained. Even more were in the Eighth Sacrament who were virtually littering the grounds. In fact, it was incredible that the Borgias Apartments hadn’t been requisitioned to house some of the-
Ah.
Fabro paused and evaluated his options. There were roughly 40 Magus here from various families. All of them were gathered here for the last time before the next summit when the information they held would be scattered and impossible to conceal. There was a route out. He could take it unobserved but nobody else would make it. And there was the geas now burning inside him with a fury. It seemed as though it could sense his intentions somehow. That, too, was filed away for another time. For now he had to act constrained by doing his best.
“Flee. They are here.”
The coat covering Fabro bulged as though what was within boiled. Dark shadows leapt across the floor and bowled over most of the Magus in the room, knocking them away from the windows and back towards the rest of the apartments. There were shouts and screams from those who were seized by the legs with a variety of teeth. It wasn’t possible to contain their desire to bite and consume the flesh of those around him. It was possible to get them out of the area where the brunt of the attack would come. Even now the walls of the Atelier were cracking like they were made of eggshell, snaking down with threads heading to the bottom of the windows. They had liked the view. The windows were the weakest point. Once they were inside, they would be able to shatter the entire thing if they were left to their own devices.
Right on cue the first wave of Executors came in through the gaps. They whirled in, expecting Magus and a barrage of spells. The Black Keys in their hands were useless when faced with dark shadows of creatures. Dozens cut down didn’t stop the beasts from tearing them to pieces, dozens of them littering the floor around him. Some of the smaller creatures nudged their way out from under the coat to feast on the remains. Still it was only the smaller beasts, the baboons and the snakes killing the attackers.
When the real threat came it was like a thunderbolt, a blast of golden light which shredded the room, the bodies and dozens of the shadowy beasts. The souls of the fallen sparkled in the evening, glistening off the remaining half of Fabro’s body. The coat was gone, obliterated in the force of the moment as he toppled to the side. Two figures, robed in black and indistinguishable from the others soared in through the remains of the window.
“We hadn’t been warned about this. We should make a record of which family was capable of killing so many. The defences should have been weaker.” the first one said as he stepped past the gaping hole where the window had been.
The other one stayed on a column of the wreckage, still outside where the Atelier had stood. “There’s something wrong. The runes forming the atelier have nothing to do with animals.”
He had waited long enough. The floor which had his shadows spreading across it rose up in a torrent of forms, some snake-like and quick attempting to poison him before he could get away. He was quick but not quick enough to avoid the crocodile which took his leg before he carved it off himself. Fabro blankly admired the Executor’s decisiveness. He would have died if he had attacked the animal, others were even now rising up and merging with the false body he had left to distract them.
There was a gap. He hadn’t attacked the other Executor who was hanging back, ready to defend his companion if needed. Every moment he held them off made the geas sing. He made a note of it. “We are leaving. You cannot stop us.”
They exchanged a look, the one bleeding heavily still from his leg frowning as though distracted, “You will not leave here without cost.”
Fabro looked at them. Their Sacraments could not harm him. He gathered his shadows together and set his crows flying out to either side. “Your mistake will be fatal.”
There was a jolt. One of the crows had been struck by something. Fabro looked out of the windows and saw only outlines. The clouds would not have descended so quickly. The world outside was no longer in the Vatican. He could not longer sense where many of his beasts were. There was a light, a strange bluish light. He threw out a swarm of hornets, things he could afford to lose. The light flared and burst, like the surface of oil and the hornets vanished. This time he saw it, an arc from the oil to his own hands. He watched with some fascination as the shape of his own body started to drip and melt, like a candle thrown in the fire. It was contagious and unlike virtually anything he had encountered before. He was trapped, the remaining walls of the atelier stopping him from retreat, the oil preventing an attack with anything other than all his force. He admired the theory of their attack.
A whale collapsed into pieces, crashing through the barrier from the inside and a decent chunk of the wall. A wave of darkness flowed out the other side of the Apartments in a torrent towards the Sistine Chapel. The sound of the evening mass taking place there was silenced as it swallowed up all the lives within, drinking them in to heal . From the ruins of the Atelier the two Sins watched Fabro Rowan escape across the Vatican.
“Envy could stop him, you know. Perhaps we should get in touch.”
Wrath turned away, his leg already reforming out of the oil which was seeping back into the ground. “You know that would be too risky. Besides, by the time they return who knows what they will have become.” He looked back over his leg, still glowing from the inside. “For that matter, who knows what we will have become.”
Scene End
Interlude 2/3
The darkness came to the shores of the Isle of Man. It landed and took in the shore. Power flowed at its fingertips down unfamiliar paths. It soared over the countryside.
The meeting itself was based in Castle Rushen, waiting at night for the evening of the solstice. It would be a short night, hot and stuffy. The castle was ancient and the many holes in the walls made for some drafts to relieve the crowd’s uneasy atmosphere. Magus weren’t used to being in such a large group outside of a summit and an attack was far from impossible.
The castle walls were warded against intruders of this kind. It stalked the outside for some time looking for a weakness. Then with a laugh it tapped into something new. The walls became like mist as it passed through them.
Soon there was a commotion. A great shining warrior rose up from beneath the ground and began to speak, talking of great hosts of warriors and a time once promised, now to come again. There were whispers in the crowd about what kind of deal could be made. He was seeking much from Magus and striding across and through the attendees.
It was inside now. There were voices. They would be talking for some time. It settled down to watch and wait. The malign glow started around it and there was a moment of agony. New channels opened up, new circuits burning like fire. From the shadows it felt as though everyone should have been able to see an inferno.
The meeting was a mess of craven Magus seeking to appease this creature that had emerged. It seemed to delight in the attention and having a court to surround it. That and displaying its power to the surrounding crowds. Even during the hours it spoke, the castle itself began to rise up from the soil, new rocks replacing old and the foundations settling onto new pillars deep below.
There was power here, that was what mattered. It looked with concealed avarice at the crowds and began to drink deep. From distant lands it could feel another, like a brand which went all the way up through the spine. The sensation of touch had gone for now, large patches of numbness spreading. The cost was worth it, the body was only a shell for a much greater potential.
The throne which had formed from the bedrock stopped just short of completion. There was a crack from the castle walls as a half-formed turret fell off. The shining warrior turned, again and again, whirling around. Shouting incoherently.
“Fascinating… he can sense it.”
The Magus were confused, searching for… something. They didn’t know what. Meanwhile the lord of the castle started carving at the floor with his sword, making a pathway for him to escape. Some of the more enthusiastic Magus even started helping him, only stopping when the hole which opened up threatened to collapse the entire room.
The darkness could feel the connection, tiny threads already snaking down beneath the earth. There was no one warrior, no more than a single branch was a tree. The sense of scale was disturbing. Food for thought, it thought, laughing and thinking of food.
The Magus stayed for some time while the floor sealed itself up. They discussed what had happened. They didn’t have much to go on.
There was nothing left to do. Much had happened and now it was only a matter of time. With another word then it drifted back through the walls and away over the fields. There was a place nearby that it could prepare and leave.
In the darkness of one of the towers another shape emerged, detaching from the wall, soaring and catching the light of dawn. It circled once, observing carefully… then fled to the east. Too many mysteries this night.
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