Necrosis (The Omens of Gaia Book 1) Page 23

  “Foiled, foiled thou all must be!” The yokai shrilled. “How eagerly thee and thine scramble towards the light, yet despite all efforts thou canst never reach it!”

  Akar cocked its head. “Amaterasu made a similar declaration shortly before her demise. It is curious how she knew of such things. Now you speak the same words. How is it the yokai foresaw the fate of men in this matter?”

  “There are many gods which rule this world, but Man is blind to them!” the yokai screeched. “Ye know only the world of dust; ye wallow in it, live and die in it. The greatest thing ye know is yourself, so it is Yourself that ye worship. Spirits know better; me and mine are of a kind with the powers which rule the inner realm. We do not worship our own kind, for we know our place in the hierarchy of being. Men are castaways of the gods and so we mock them, as thou wouldst mock dust motes whirling in the darkness!”

  Keren could not understand what it was talking about. “What does that have to do with the Kirin’s rejection of men as rulers over the Well?” She remembered what the monk had told them on the road, but could not decipher whether this yokai said the same or something different altogether.

  “It means the dominions of this world will never grant Man any power of consequence!” the yokai snarled. “Man is a rogue, a renegade in the hierarchy of being. The powers that be may not be capable of destroying thee, but neither will they deign to grant thee any influence in their realm.” The creature gestured to the building around them. “What is this, but a heaping of mortar and stones? What does man worship here but a reflection of his own self, as he has always done?”

  Akar replied, “Where did the beauty in this place come from, if it was built solely on vanity and pride? If man only worshipped himself he would have perished long before now.”

  “Who’s there?” a voice called. Keren whipped around in alarm.

  A figure emerged from the shadows behind the altar. He was clothed all in black, with a rope of beads at his waist. His hair was dark, his eyes sunken, his features thin and wan. He looked as if he hadn’t seen the sun in a very long time. Keren thought he complemented the yokai perfectly.

  Akar regarded the man. “You are a priest?”

  “That I am, my son; perhaps the last in this country.”

  “We are foreigners and have no knowledge of your customs. Is it normal for your temples to be in such a state of disrepair and inhabited by the monsters of the wild?”

  The priest chuckled wryly. “Indeed not. This is a rather unusual arrangement. I’m afraid I’ve no means to care for this parish alone; the crow you see there is my only regular visitor.”

  Keren stepped forward hesitantly. “My name is Keren, and this is Akar. We’re sorry for intruding –”

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “Nay, it is no trouble. I am Father Johan, and it is a most welcome and unexpected pleasure to see two souls grace my cathedral this evening! I hope Karasu has not disturbed you much?”

  “Er…”

  The yokai screamed and clawed at the pulpit, waggling its tongue at her. Its childlike face was split in two by its maniacal grin.

  “Shut up!” Keren screamed at it.

  “Please forgive it,” Father Johan said. “The yokai do not have souls, and cannot be held accountable for their misdeeds. They are simply incapable of understanding man’s spiritual condition. Trust me; I’ve been trying to convert Karasu for years!”

  “Ha! Thou art a fool. Thou wouldst even try to convert Amaterasu if thou could!” the yokai hooted.

  “Indeed I would, if it was my given duty to evangelize abroad and not here in this city,” Father Johan replied calmly.

  Akar stepped forward. “You are a human priest. Do you know, then, what it means to be damned?”

  The priest looked troubled. “Why do you ask this, son? Do you fear for your soul?”

  “It is a word the yokai use to describe my kind, though they cannot explain what it means.”

  Father Johan nodded. “Damnation is the state of a soul that is marked for eternal separation from the Divine. Usually the word is reserved for one already dead. In life, all persons are given the chance to redeem themselves from sin. But if they continue to reject the hand of grace, at death they are marked for eternity to abide by their choice, and be always removed from the state of grace.”

  He continued, “Karasu and its brethren don’t understand what ‘damned’ means because, for them, there is no such thing. Men who lose their humanity also cease to understand it. The closer a man comes to the gates of Hell, the less he is able to see damnation for what it is, as it has become ‘normal’ to him. As such, Hell can only be truly appreciated from a distance.”

  “Hell. That is the word for…?”

  “The eternal pit waiting beyond this life for those who turn their backs on righteousness.”

  “That’s where the yokai go, right?” Keren asked spitefully.

  “Nay, child. The spirits of this world, like the animals, do not know what righteousness is to begin with, and so cannot choose to turn their backs on it.”

  Akar stood silently, head bowed. A ray of moonlight pierced the stained-glass windows and alighted on the Necrow’s shoulder. “Which is it, then?” it murmured. “Are the Necrow cursed as men already dead, or aloof from the cycle of fate, as animals?”

  Father Johan looked at it curiously. “What is this you speak of? Do not let the jibes of the yokai trouble you, for they do not understand the troubles of the soul –”

  “It’s not that,” Keren said. “Akar…he…isn’t really human. We aren’t sure if he has a soul to be damned in the first place.” She shrugged awkwardly. “I mean, it would be better if he didn’t, wouldn’t it? He and his friends have done terrible things, but at least they don’t have to worry about eternal damnation like people do!”

  Father Johan peered at her pensively. Keren really couldn’t tell how old he was; his face might have belonged to one in his forties, although sadness and hardship had added years of their own. “It is not a light matter to question if one has a soul,” he said. “The burden is heavy, and carries responsibilities far beyond what any animal or yokai can imagine. And yet, the rewards exceed all expectation. Many men desire an easy life. But easiness ultimately leads neither to happiness nor satisfaction, for man was made for higher things. It is the greatest of blessings to be granted a soul.”

  “We were told by a holy man to travel to the land of Oración, where the sages dwell,” Akar interjected. “Can you tell us where such a place may be? It is not written on any of our maps.”

  The priest was a little taken aback. Then he looked thoughtful. “I have heard of such a place. The name Oración is rarely spoken…some even take it for legend. But many years ago, I knew a few of the older clergy who claimed to have received instruction in that place. The creed of the sages is different from ours, yet much can be learned from their example. It is said they are the brethren who exemplify the religion of our Rhodinian neighbors to the north.”

  “Rhodinia again,” Keren muttered. “My people think of them as our kin, sort of, but it’s been many generations since we spoke with one another, and I don’t know anything at all about their religion.”

  “Their beliefs are odd, to be sure. You are from Herayon, yes? Your people may have more in common with our teachings than they do with Rhodinia’s. Still, I believe the sages’ wisdom must be more than what the unknowing mock it as. The name Oración means ‘prayer’, for those who reside there dedicate their lives to devotions of the spirit. That is more than I can say of any of the other nations.”

  The yokai cackled: “Prayer? Men know of no such thing! They mutter self-serving eulogies and testaments to themselves, and thinkest they are speaking to something Other! Man knows not how to worship higher beings, for he refuses to recognize his proper place!”

  “That’s enough!” Keren shouted. “You shouldn’t be so disrespectful to a holy man, yokai!”

  “What disrespect? Thou believest in their creed no
more than I! If thou wert logical thou would recognize such doings to be a squandering of one’s time. What need has thou to worship, when thou considers thyself above all things?”

  “I don’t, you nasty creature! I just…I just don’t know. ” Keren looked down, angry and ashamed.

  “You doubt your people’s religion?” Father Johan asked.

  Keren shrank back, afraid of being admonished. Her words, however, were belligerent. “Yes! I doubted in our God when my people were captured and put in chains, and tortured and killed because of a barbarian’s whims! I doubt Him because He refuses to do anything to uphold justice in this world!”

  “Perhaps your God has reasons for allowing these injustices to occur –” Father Johan began.

  “What reasons? What reason could there possibly be for allowing innocent people to suffer and die?!” Keren cried. Her shrill voice echoed and rebounded in the great hall. The cold, high walls bore down as with their own judgment, the eyes of all the hosts of heaven watchful in this sacred place. Keren instantly regretted raising her voice; such an act despoiled the sanctity of the temple. The gods must be all too familiar with the outrage of men, and had no sympathy for their cries.

  Father Johan waited, saying nothing until Keren had calmed herself. Then he continued, “Sufferings physical, mental and spiritual exist to teach us, to test us, to make us human. As it was written: ‘Your faith has been given not only that you may believe, but also suffer for my sake.’ Those of my order are not raised to expect the goodwill of the world, for the world itself has sided with injustice. It is expected of my order that we suffer – and suffer gladly – for doing what is right.”

  The priest chuckled abruptly. “I even allow myself to be tormented by Karasu, because I hope some good will come of it! Lord knows, the creature can present a more engaging philosophical argument than any of my parishioners!”

  “Aye,” Karasu said grudgingly, scratching its ear with what had suddenly become a rabbit’s foot. “This preacher babbles nonsense, yet still there is some entertainment to be had from what he says.”

  Akar spoke again: “What religion do you follow, priest?”

  “A dying one, I’m afraid,” Father Johan sighed. “Most of my order left for more promising lands years ago. Our religion will never die, but the soil here is no longer welcoming to it. Strange to think that many here once believed, but in time they gave their hearts to the world, and have lost all taste for wholesome things…”

  “The holy man of the road told us that here we were to witness the doom of men.”

  The priest chuckled wryly. “He certainly didn’t mince words, did he? It may not look so to the unfamiliar, but this is indeed the twilight of our civilization.”

  “What do you mean?” Keren protested. “All of the people I met were pretty clueless, and the fashions here are just downright ridiculous, but surely you don’t mean –”

  “There are no more native children in Perniciem,” Father Johan said solemnly. “The youngest are already a generation old. Their lifespan will be long; perhaps a hundred years or so, if their technologies do not fall to ruin, but eventually they will all succumb to death, and there will be none of the original bloodlines remaining in this country.”

  Keren started to object, but thought of the absence of the children in the street and said nothing.

  “Once, men died in great numbers by their neighbor’s hand. Now there is no murder – instead the chief cause of death is from those who kill themselves. Death itself used to be a tragedy; now the only tragedy is to experience something without first giving one’s consent. Death, suffering, disease and disorder are all held to be neutral things. Life, honor, love and virtue have no intrinsic value. The only thing that is not without value is one’s own agency or will.”

  “They deny the truths upon which the foundations of their lives were built. They dwell in the husks of their forebears like wasps in the paper shelters of their queen!” the yokai cried. Its mask slid over its face completely, and its body transformed, taking on the appearance of a gigantic insect with arms like a praying mantis. The sight of a child’s body contorting into the form of such a gruesome creature was too much; Keren felt about to retch.

  Father Johan did not seem at all disturbed by the yokai’s antics; if anything, the priest looked bored. “This country still appears largely intact to an outside observer. The buildings still stand, though as you can see, they suffer the deteriorations of time. And the people, though they have ceased to reproduce, are being replaced. Already there are newcomers crossing the borders. They keep to themselves, in shanty towns and back alleys. Most of them follow the traditions of their ancestors. In a hundred years, when all the original inhabitants of this land are dead and gone, the strangers will come forth in their true numbers to claim this country as their own.

  “And so, to all appearances, the country of Perniciem still stands. In spirit, however, it has already been destroyed.”

  Akar and Keren received these words in silence.

  The yokai, however, could barely contain its laughter. The stifled sounds of its mirth echoed through the muted hall. “Farce and folly! Comedy and tragedy! Whilst thou never learn? Of course not – mankind’s very nature lies in the grasping of illusions, the coveting of that which they can never possess. What wouldst my kind do without such drollery to entertain and feed us in our tedium?”

  “Can’t you just be quiet?” Keren snapped. “How can you even say these things – a whole civilization is dying, and you think it’s a joke?!”

  “What is a joke, but a thing which elicits laughter? What is humanity, but a practice in irony? Such high ideals thou speakest of in places such as this! So quick to insist that what thou lives and stands for are things outside yourselves! Yet at the end of it all, what dost thou do? Become preoccupied with inner pleasures which thou conceitedly calls ‘meaning’. As if the meaning of anything was not determined by something outside itself! Thou callest the yokai beasts, but we know; we know better than men and animals alike! Our lives are defined by the hierarchy of being: what we are made of, and what we aspire to.”

  “What are you talking about, yokai?” Keren demanded. “I’ve heard of this so-called hierarchy from you and your queen, and I think you’re just using it to groom your own ego. Your sort doesn’t believe in real loyalty or authority; you only think about yourselves!”

  “Oh, dost thou accuse the yokai now of self-contradiction? As the Father here sayest, think not to judge thine own neighbor, lest those same scales be used to judge thee! Who art men to speak of contradictions? The things thee and thine dost say! ‘The world is beautiful!’ And at the same time, ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder!’ Which is it, eh? Is it truly beautiful, or is beauty merely an illusion of thine mind?”

  The masked mantis leaned towards Keren, leering, “Thou canst even decide whether thou art young gods incarnate, or headless chickens running in circles!”

  Keren did not have sense enough to be afraid. “You’re so two-faced, hiding behind that mask of yours, like you’re afraid of us knowing what you really are! You monsters are all cowards, slinking through the shadows and feeding off men like parasites, afraid to show your true form!”

  The yokai looked at her a moment, then burst into hysterical laughter. “Ahahaha! Is that how thou perceives us? Irony of ironies; thine accusation could not be further from the truth. A yokai’s mask is not intended to conceal, but to convey!”

  I could have told you that, Akar muttered. Keren gaped at the mantis monster. “What…what are you…” then she noticed that the runes on the mask had not changed. It still bore the beak and feathers of a crow. “Does that mean…”

  “A yokai’s mask is the equivalent of a human heart; the center of its being. But unlike the human heart, a yokai’s does not change!” It cried. “Always we wear our true faces for all to see! This stubborn offspring of man cannot understand, for she refuses to observe!”

  “How was I supposed to under
stand?! You’re all so erratic and confusing!”

  “Thou hast irked me greatly, human. For thine insults I demand retribution in blood!”

  Father Johan stepped forward, flinging one arm between Keren and the yokai. “You know our bargain, Karasu. There is no need for you to feed on the child’s heart-blood.”

  “Hey, I’m not a child!” Keren insisted, drawing her dagger. “Just let it try! I’ll give it a taste of –”

  No, let them do as they wish. This is their house, not yours. Akar said quietly.

  The yokai screamed, its body melting and re-assuming the shape of a great crow. It flew to the priest’s arm and perched. Its talons gripped the black cloth viciously, its beak opening and croaking insistently. The priest staggered but quickly regained his composure, his face drawn. He stared intently into the yokai’s beady, murderous eyes. And he began to recite a prayer.

  It was in a different language, so Keren couldn’t understand what was being said, but the emotions it expressed were familiar. A prayer for protection; a prayer for summoning the Divine presence; a prayer of things past and things yet to come; a prayer of joyful submission to one’s destiny. Gradually the words passed from grim acceptance to a victorious upwelling of emotion. Karasu cawed softly and flapped its wings in excitement.

  What on earth is going on? Keren wondered. I thought the yokai didn’t like human prayer –

  Unless it is true prayer, Akar replied. The priest is drawing power from another source. The flame of his life is blazing like wildfire. The yokai is feeding off his heart as it does to all humans, but the priest’s heart does not diminish because another force sustains it. It is like the Well, inverted upward toward heaven – a bottomless reservoir of power.

  Wait – you just said the yokai is eating his heart?! Keren exclaimed. You can’t let it do that! She inched towards the pair, her knife drawn, thinking if she could just grab the crow to stop it from flying away –