The Brotherhood of the Abyss

CHAPTER II - VELRUTHIEL

What happened in the forest stays in the forest. The men who fought the Seven are cursed to never remember what they saw.  The secrecy of the Poor Fellows of Christ of the Order of the Black Wings must be protected until humans are no longer fearful of the supernatural. The many Worlds are not yet ready for the likes of such brotherhood, and for now the Order had to remain in the shadows.

Duncan only had scattered memories of their last mission and he spent the next few days alone in his apartment room. Usually he is in a deep contemplation, almost in a meditative trance, and oftentimes he skips regular meals and sleep. He had been like this since he requested a private meeting with his Captain that night after the raid. Duncan seems to be getting anxious, for in just a few days he will be settling this matter in the headquarters of the Order.

That peaceful Sunday morning, the day of his requested meeting, Duncan is again alone in his apartment room and seemingly waiting for someone to arrive. Clad in plain-clothes and disguised as a human, he is inconspicuous and looks more like a geeky underage anyone could bully. Then at half past ten someone knocks.

“Good Morning Velruthiel,” Duncan greeted in a low deadpan voice. Stepping in from the front door is a tall beautiful girl with a flowing waste length hair.

“Thank you,” she replied. “And now be ready, we are about to enter the House of the Order.”

Velruthiel raises a hand, and the world around them spins into a blur of colours. When the view stills they are now in a different place. There is nothing but complete darkness around them, except for an illuminated arched gateway sealed by heavy steel vines. Velruthiel stands nearby. In her true form she is stunning. She is like a goddess in her plain dark gown and flowing cloak. Her long black hair further enhances her mystique. Duncan stood by her side, no longer puny looking but dark and fierce. As tradition dictates whenever in a formal meeting, Duncan must appear fully armoured and draped in deep brown cloak

“Son of Adam, Child of Eve,” Velruthiel said to him, “you may enter.”

The steel vines wriggles to life. They recede to form a passageway big enough for two people to step in. They are about to enter the secretive headquarters of the Order.  This place is a separate World, not a castle or any forms of fortification and arguably the smallest. Duncan was once told this World is only the size of a large castle though its exact dimension is still unsure. It had no definite shape and could assume any forms, a feature exploited by the Order to suit its needs. This World even had a life of its own. In fact it had, or she had a human form. Whenever a member of the Order needs assistance it will appear to them as Velruthiel.

“Your Captain is waiting in the Squad’s Barracks,” Velruthiel said as they stepped into the magical gateway, and a hallway stretching far into the horizon meets them. The presence of strong magic dominates the place, as if the surroundings are alive. Above them countless Light Orbs dots the ceiling like stars in the night sky, illuminating the carvings of Green Men (sculptures of faces surrounded by leaves) peering out from the wall. Stained glass windows depicting biblical scenes watch over the hallway, where the perpetual light from an unknown source flows in.

Seemingly there is nothing but hallways in the World of Velruthiel. There are no turns or passageways anywhere in sight. Then after a minute of walking they stopped. Velruthiel raises a finger, and a weathered archway emerges from the ground. There is nothing through it but the view of the endless hallway but Duncan tapped its cracked stones three times.

“Asking for a permission to enter,” he then said.

From nowhere someone replied.

“Permission granted.”

Duncan makes a bow to Velruthiel before stepping into the archway. And suddenly he is now in a spacious chamber with a round table in the middle complete with two handsomely carved chairs. The statue of the Warrior Christ on a grazing horse stands in the other end of the room, while the image of the enthroned Blessed Virgin Mary sits in the left. The coat of arms of the Order hangs from the elaborately painted ceiling. Duncan’s Captain, dressed in mask, armour and pelt cloak awaits him by the side of the table.

“Be seated Duncan,” his Captain said to him. By tradition the common soldier like him will sit on the left side of the table while his officer will take the right side. Duncan pulls out an envelope made from light yellow parchment sealed with a strange wax symbol; an Angel with a folded wings. In the language of the Order, this is an official request for an indefinite leave.

“The details are written inside Sir,” Duncan added.

But his Captain never even bothered reading it. He surveys Duncan with this penetrating stare before burning the letter in his hand.

“The request is denied?” Duncan asked.

“It was already approved Duncan. The Order had given its blessings.”

There is a mix of surprise and amazement on Duncan’s face.

“I did the request on your behalf Duncan,” his Captain added

“But how did you know Sir?”

“You're easy to predict. I knew what was coming when you asked me for a private meeting that night. You have been acting strangely these past months.”

“The members of the Order don’t exactly act normal,” Duncan reasoned.

“But your case is different. Now Duncan, let’s make this quick.”

His Captain lowers his mask to reveal a young but battle worn face. His nose bears signs of being broken in a fist fight and his ears are severely deformed.

“Duncan,” his Captain continues, “You could be brutal and merciless. In our previous missions, you are known to inflict slow and agonizing death to your enemies.”

“The men of the Order had their own ways of giving justice,” Duncan replied solemnly.

“Hacking a man many times and letting him bleed to death is not justice Duncan, its sadism. Remember what the Archangel reminded us in each of our missions; be merciful to the helpless. Mercy and honour are what set us apart from common murderers,” his Captain then said.

“But mercy should only be granted to the deserving. I’m just giving them what is fitting.”

“Really, but in our last mission child you are different. You are always an animal in the battlefield, but you are behaving rather strangely.”

“As what the situation dictates, I must inflict swift death Sir.”

“I’m talking about what I’m seeing after the fight Duncan. You are staring at your victim with deep remorse as we send his remains for proper burial.”

“We should be showing respect to the dead Sir.”

“But you said it yourself; respect is only reserved to the deserving.”

At that point Duncan went silent.

“Be honest child, is there something that troubles you,” his Captain asked calmly.

Duncan lowers his head. Behind his mask, his face remains cold and stony.

“It seems I have reached the point where too much blood had been spilled,” Duncan muttered.

His Captain’s unmasked face suddenly went serious.

“As what I’m suspecting,” he then said.

“Maybe Sir, I have seen too much death.”

“I thought you have come to accept that death is a part of our profession. Joining the Order is embracing a possible eternity of bloodshed.”

“I thought I have Sir, but…”

Duncan suddenly paused, as if contemplating what he would say.

"I'm afraid these deaths are now haunting me," he then said.

After another moment of silence Duncan moves on.

“I have to be violent Sir, I have to be brutal. I thought being merciless will help me free me of my guilt of inflicting death.”

Somehow his Captain felt Duncan is not telling him everything.

“This might explain the reason behind your savagery,” said his Captain then.

“To embrace death, I must embrace bloodlust. At least that’s how I saw it.”

His Captain surveys him, his stare ever more penetrating.

“You are now saying there is guilt in taking a man’s life, But is there something more to be told,” he added shrewdly.

Duncan began to gaze blankly at a pile of ashes left by his burnt letter as his Captain continues to eye him, as if scanning his every though going within his head.

“I think you are driven by more than guilt. I think in every man you kill, her image swims back,” his Captain said ominously.

“I was being punished Sir,” Duncan muttered, “I will ever be tormented by the sin of my First Mission.”

Duncan bowed his head as if about to recite a prayer.

“I was arrogant and reckless during those times. It was my rash decisions that caused it,” he added.

“Duncan, what had happened had happened. The past is non-existent. Do learn to move on.”

“That’s why I’m planning to take a leave Sir. Just hoping a bit of break will help me get rid of my demons.”

His Captain let go a deep sigh of reminiscence.

“Just like them,” he muttered.

“What do you mean Sir?”

“There are many others before you who displayed the same form of revulsion towards killing. This is not a bad thing; in fact as the Archangel suggests, it only shows you are still human. I’m not good in offering advices in this sort of problem. Dealing with battle induced trauma is the work of the Order’s Hospitallers, Counsellors and Specialist. But in the end it’s all up to you and to your determination to finally slay your looming demon.”

Again, his Captain raises his mask as he is about to make Duncan’s request official.

“For now Duncan, this is the only help I could give you. With the authority given to me, I will give my final blessings. Hopefully you will find the help you’re looking for during your leave.”

“Thank you Sir,” said Duncan while bowing his head.

“You have expressed your side. Tomorrow your leave will take effect. And remember, during the duration of your break you have no authorization to use your weapon to stage any violent confrontations unless done in defence or with the consent of the Order.”

“Acknowledge Sir.”

“And lastly,” said his Captain seriously, “the Order understands your situation; times might change and you may soon decide to leave. You are free to leave anytime child if there is a need.”

“It did come to me but somehow I felt that this is not the right thing to do.”

“In that case I think we will be seeing each other soon Duncan.”

As a part of the Order’s tradition Duncan must surrender the Cerrice, their ceremonial dagger.

“Lastly Duncan, Godspeed,” his Captain

“Thank you very much Sir.”

And together they shook hands in a brotherly sort of way. As a sign of goodwill towards a departing member of the Order, Velruthiel will be escorting Duncan all the way to the exit.

“Guest that we won’t be seeing you for a long time,” Velruthiel whispered to him.

“It depends on how things will go,” Duncan replied.

“And I see that you won’t be leaving the Order either.”

“Maybe, because I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Duncan said then.

Velruthiel then gave Duncan a smile.

“During your break, try asking yourself,” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“Try asking yourself why you joined the Order in the first place.”

And Velruthiel begin to sing this parting song, her voice is indeed enchanting;

“A confused soul is about to depart

Journey to answer what troubles his heart

His path unsure, destination unclear

Never even knowing how far or near

Into stranger tide his walk will lead him

Into chasms of lands or moonlight’s beam

From Giant’s domain or Elven woods

But answers will continue to elude

At times he will be found lost in his thoughts

Under confusion between truth and hoax

Loose not your heart and the faith to walk on

For sooner the challenges will be won

When is you return I cannot tell

But assure in God’s hands all will be well

The day you come back, my heart will liven

For the answer you seek is now given.”

***

It was nearly midnight when Duncan had finished his packing. The next day he plans to spend some time away in his hometown Saint Jude to get away from all of this magical madness. Duncan only had a few belongings and his basic things will be stored in the biggest space in the rucksack; a set of clothes, a laptop computer and a phone he rarely use. And when the need arises, the Order had issued him an ominous sealed box with a decorated lid. Inside is a small collection of non-lethal weapons, magical devices and strange looking silver instruments.

Through magic, he managed to jam his wardrobe into a standard sized rucksack. He then checks himself in the mirror and a tired face looks back. Tomorrow Duncan will live the life of a simple mortal, something most people didn’t appreciated. Magic is a lot more trouble than it’s worth, and he had seen enough to haunt him for eternity. He remembers that back in his childhood, he freaked out after hearing from his parents that he is only part human. He had locked himself in his room for days, refusing meals and doing self-harm. It took an Archangel appearing in his bedside to help him get over with the shock of this sudden revelation. At times he wondered what sort of beings are they. The Order often referred to them as creatures with a part of Heaven, a part of hell and with faces of Men, unnamed beings capable of slaying demons and fallen angels. They are the Devil’s Bane.

Duncan took a deep yawn as he slumps himself on his bed. He was unsure how their kinds came to be, but their Grandmaster once shared them a rather interesting story. It was said that their forefathers first appeared hundreds of years ago, in a different world far from the World of Men.  Originally they are meant to take on the roles of Antichrists that will hasten the destruction of all known worlds. Their creator is the fallen angel Lucifer who has conceived them by impregnating a harem of witches. These Sons of the Damned are gifted (or some says cursed) with every supernatural abilities an Archangel had, including limitless powers and immortality. They don’t have bodies though, but spirits of a different substance that are made to be touched. Christmas was the intended date when these unholy siblings will be released into the many worlds, to rain fear and death as the unsuspecting humans feast. But within Lucifer’s seemingly perfect plan, he had one disastrous undoing. He had failed to notice that unclean they might be they are still humans with the image of God continuously running in their veins. In that fateful Christmas day that human side to care for their brothers and sisters was awakened when they help restore a dying girl to health. They felt that they had seen God in her eyes, a God that never forsaken them despite of their roots in the darkness. Inspired by the event they then made a vow to be the protector of God’s people. One of them going by the name Gryndel the Black later forms a religious brotherhood which will go on to become the Order.

Creatures with the part of Heaven, a part of Hell and faces of men indeed; in the history of the Order Duncan counts as the fifty thousandth member. Their kinds are notorious for low birth-rates and the chance of finding one nowadays is slim. For Duncan this is better. The world belongs to the mortals and not to some man-demon hybrids with unimaginable potentials to kill. Monsters are what they are, the true experts of killing. And last year he had experienced how much of a monster he is, when he witnessed for the first time the horrors of death.

Duncan closes his eyes. Everything seems to go back to that faithful day a year ago. Back then he was in another World, crouching low among the foliage and awaiting the arrival of several people. Supposedly neophyte warriors like him must be accompanied by experienced members of the Order, but he insisted going out alone believing he can do things himself. And after a few minutes of waiting, he spotted them. Five cloaked figures riding on strange animals appeared and Duncan doesn’t waste a single moment. He leaps out from his hiding place like a mad attack dog and began charging relentlessly. The Order had trained Duncan well. No magic or weapons are used; Duncan only needed his dagger and bare hands. The fight ends after a few minutes and it was Duncan who remains standing among several dead bodies. His right hand clutches the loot of war he must retrieve; a precious relic these bands of demons had stolen. Duncan relishes the victory and further defiles his victims by stepping onto them. But the moment of triumph was short lived.

Upon uncloaking his victims, it was revealed that one of them was a human girl. It was as if his inside starts to melt. He could torture demons to death, but killing a human doesn’t felt right. It was then that Duncan became aware of the blood in his hands. Demons don’t have blood, but humans do. And without knowing what he was doing, Duncan was running away, unable to view the remains of his victims.

Up to this day Duncan is still tormented by the memories of the night. Haunting flashbacks will appear in his dreams, and he will see himself back in the forest clutching his bloody dagger and looking down at the dead form of the girl. This is what he is getting for the sin of arrogance. Back then Duncan’s senses are yet to develop, and he had no way of telling humans from disguised demons. Yet even with underdeveloped magic Duncan still insisted on going out in a mission without the aid of their experienced members. How thick is he to believe that an amateur like him could already fight alone? In the end the only person that must be blamed for the bloodbath is himself.

Duncan and his kinds really had no need to sleep. But as he drifts into an uneasy slumber, he is jolted awake by a knock on the front door. He is not expecting anyone at this time of the night, at least not someone human. Something in the air tells Duncan that this is someone he ought to speak to.

“Come in,” he said calmly. When the door opens an interesting character stood there. He is a young man, or is he? Duncan knows that no living person could have skin as bright as moonlight or eyes of polished crystals. His hair flows like strands of silk.

“Am I disturbing you Duncan,” he asked.

“Not at all Sir, you know our kind had no need to sleep. In fact …”

Duncan looked back at his already packed belongings.

“I could really use someone to talk to Sir,” he added.

He ushers his visitor towards the coffee table where he is being served with tea and biscuits.

“No Duncan, you shouldn’t mind,” said his guest, refusing the late snack he offered.

“You’re the Archangel of the Lord and my visitor. Please feel at home,” Duncan insisted as he pours him tea.

“I’m just here to give you something. The Captain and the Grandmaster had agreed upon that this should remain with you.”

The Archangel heaved an elongated package on Duncan’s table wrapped in a beautifully patterned red silk.

“I’m no longer in your service, I don’t deserve to carry this anymore,” said Duncan weakly.

“You’re not yet resigned Duncan; you are still connected with the Order.”

Duncan touches the package but never dared to open it.

“You will need it when the time comes. You are its rightful owner after all. This object had a part of you,” the Archangel added.

“A part of a killer that is,” Duncan muttered.

“Enough of that, anyway …”

The Archangel looked sideways, at Duncan’s packed things.

“Been preparing all night Sir,” Duncan said weakly.

“And where do you plan to spend your vacation?”

“I will be coming home to the place I grew up, to Saint Jude.”

There is a look of longing in Duncan’s face as he said those.

“I just want to get away from all of this violence,” Duncan continues, “for once I want to be free of all of those fighting, magic and killings.”

“How long are you planning to take a leave?”

“Indefinite Sir,” Duncan replied. The Archangel then beamed positively at Duncan.

“I think you are searching for answers,” he then said.

“What do you mean Sir?

“You are searching for answers, the reason why you joined the Order.”

Somehow Duncan didn’t get what the Archangel meant.

“Let’s put it this way,” the Archangel explained, “try asking yourself; why you joined the Order in the first place?”

“You know Sir, Velruthiel once said the same thing to me,” he replied as he gives the Archangel a rare smile.

“And your home, Saint Jude,” the Archangel asked, “where is this place.”

“In the highlands, near the Three Great Mountains …”

He then looks at Duncan with a mysterious smile.

“Let me left these words as you have your little vacation tomorrow. You know, nothing happens by chance. Everything had its reasons. Things happened for they happened. Submit to God’s will and something might be revealed.”

“What do you mean Sir?”

“Duncan, Saint Jude might harbour more than childhood memories.”

“I still don’t get it Sir,” Duncan said, head swimming with questions.

“You will soon find out. And look it’s getting late; you have to get up early tomorrow. I have said enough Duncan and it’s up to you to do the rest. Now I should be going, Godspeed Duncan.”

The two shook hands though Duncan is still fighting the urge to ask further questions. But as what he heard, it is up to him to do the rest.

“Thank you very much Sir,” said Duncan then.

“For what,” the Archangel asked.

“For your visit,” he replied.

Once the Archangel left, Duncan took that elongated package he brought and slip it in an enchanted pocked of his rucksack. Try asking yourself Duncan, why you joined the Order in the first place. Nothing happens by chance. Those are the words the Archangel left him to meditate.

The next morning when he woke up, Duncan remembers little of those words.