“Now that is very disturbing indeed,” he whispered.
“What is?”
“The Eternal Choir has fallen silent.”
From the moment the church had first opened its doors to the faithful, the Eternal Choir had sung praises to the Lord of All, morning, noon and night. The perpetual hymn had never faltered; members of the choir worked in shifts, to rest and eat and to preserve their voices. For the Eternal Choir to be silenced was unthinkable, and though Silus was no friend of the Final Faith, he found the silence chilling.
“The Red Chapter have really done a number on Makennon,” Kelos said. “How on earth did they manage to wrest control of the Cathedral from the Final Faith?”
Silus had been wondering very much the same thing, for neither the façade of the building, nor the stones of the central square abutting it, bore the scars of battle. However this infiltration had been achieved, it had happened quickly and decisively.
His left hand on the handle of the postern door and his right gripping his sword, Silus nodded to his two companions to follow before entering the cathedral.
As soon as they crossed the threshold they found themselves walking through the debris of broken pews and shattered stained glass. The nave had been utterly desecrated: the fine tapestries gracing every pillar were shredded, the intricate mosaics decorating the floor cracked and tarnished, the central altar broken in half and strewn with the remnants of the great glass dome that had once looked down upon it. Silus’s faith had long since been diminished by everything he had witnessed, yet he still felt a sense of horror at the destruction that had been visited upon this place of worship. Standing under the shattered central dome, he looked up to see a host of pigeons roosting on the broken spars; the murals that decorated the wall around the dome’s base had been scrawled over with crude depictions of sex or blasphemies against the Faith.
“Classy bunch, this Red Chapter, aren’t they?” Dunsany said. “And that is never how you spell
faggot
.”
“Is that supposed to be Makennon herself, do you think?” Kelos said. “It’s hard to tell. In fact, looking it at, it could be a dog.”
Silus shook his head and proceeded towards the choir stalls. Here, there were signs of slaughter. Underfoot, the floor was tacky with drying blood, and on the High Altar sat a human head; the bishop’s hat that crowned it sat askew, its empty eye-sockets were stuffed with votive candles and its tongue was skewered with the symbol of the Final Faith.
The smell of death suddenly rose up like cloying incense, and Silus stepped back, taking deep breaths through his mouth and willing himself not to be sick. As his nausea subsided, he heard a voice raised in song and thought, for a moment, that one of the choristers had survived the cull. He only realised his mistake when he looked up and saw Kerberos framed by the remnants of a broken stained glass window. This was no human voice, but the call of his god. It had been so long since he had heard it that he had forgotten its sound, forgotten its ability to get right to the heart of him and there find every pain, every worry and fear and doubt, and soothe them away with the balm of its voice. Silus was so tired, so done with fighting against what he had become, that every defence crumbled. He closed his eyes and distantly heard the sound of his sword falling to the floor. Something moved behind him, but he paid it no heed. Instead, he gave himself up entirely to the music pouring from the azure sphere hanging low and heavy in the sky.
When his soul left his body, he felt no loss because he knew that he was coming home.
T
HEY BOTH SAW
Silus falter, but it was Kelos who reached him first. He slung an arm around his friend and helped him over to a pew, where he loosened the top button of his shirt and fanned his face with a shredded hymnal.
“Listen, are you sure you’re up to this?” he said. “Perhaps we should just hole up somewhere for a while, forget the whole thing. What do you say?”
Silus turned at the sound of Kelos’s voice, but did not open his eyes.
“This is how they treat my house?” he said.
“I... I don’t understand.”
“This is how they repay me for all that I have given to this world?”
The voice that came from Silus’s mouth was not his own.
“Who are you?”
“You know me well, Kelos. You too, Dunsany. I am your Lord and Master, and you shall kneel before me.”
When Silus stood and opened his eyes they had no choice, for the azure glare that poured from his pupils possessed them with a fear unlike any they had known.
“What have you done to Silus?” Dunsany said.
“He has become one with me. I –”
Silus staggered, knocking over an ornate candlestick. An unearthly scream came from his mouth and when he looked up at the two men before him, for a brief moment, a red glare filled his eyes.
“Hel’ss,” Kerberos gasped. “I... I need help. I need... Makennon.”
He shook his head and the scarlet taint was gone, replaced once more by the pure light of the azure god. Barely giving Dunsany and Kelos a second glace, Kerberos made His way to the north transept. There, He stood looking at a mural depicting the great sphere of the deity, with a host of human souls streaming towards it, each with the features of a former head of the Final Faith. Looming over them, looking down on them all, was the face of Katherine Makennon, portrayed with a benevolent – even loving – smile.
Kerberos shook His head, smiling ruefully.
“And just who is the god of this world, do you think?”
Neither Kelos or Dunsany answered, still too stunned by the possession of their friend to even understand what Kerberos was saying.
The god’s gaze snapped to the arches of the gallery above.
“Even now, knowing who strides through the ruins of this church, you would resist me?”
He gestured and the wall before Him melted, collapsing the upper levels and spilling a host of Red Chapter mercenaries into the transept. Those not killed by the fall were trapped in the solidifying rock, screaming as their lungs were crushed and their bones pulverised. A few survived intact, and they turned on Kerberos with their swords drawn before an understanding of what truly stood before them dawned on their faces.
Some knelt before their god then, while others took their own lives, their minds broken. Kerberos looked upon His remaining disciples kindly. They bowed their heads to receive His sacrament, and soon the pain and fear in their eyes was replaced by His pure, azure light.
As one, Kerberos and the three men and four women now possessed of His grace turned to Kelos and Dunsany.
“This is our world,” they said in unison. “This is our creation. This is our–”
One of the men suddenly clutched at his face and wailed. From between his fingers came shards of a brilliant crimson light. The cathedral was now open to the sky through the rent in the collapsed wall, and there Dunsany could see red tendrils reaching out from the sphere of Hel’ss and wrapping themselves around the great disc of Kerberos. The possessed Silus reached out to the man, there was a flash of azure light, and a corpse hit the floor, smoke rising from its flesh. Above them, the two deities were still once more.
“There is little time,” Kerberos and His disciples said.
For a terrifying moment, Dunsany and Kelos feared that they too were about to be possessed, corralled into the service of the Lord of All. Instead, Kerberos opened a door in the north wall and descended the steps beyond, trailed by His followers. Dunsany and Kelos could have run then, but they had come too far not to see this through to the end.
The tunnels below the cathedral led to a vast complex of rooms; some simple storage areas or administrative offices, others housing vast libraries and laboratories. In one high-vaulted chamber Dunsany caught a glimpse of a huge statue of a dwarf, inscribed with glowing runes and holding a steel axe that looked capable of felling entire armies. He was about to walk past when something about the dwarf’s features made him do a double take.
“Kelos, is that...?”
“My gods, you’re right! It’s the exact likeness of Orlok.”
Such wonders, however, held no interest for Kerberos and His disciples, who continued on their relentless march through the many levels of the cathedral. Kelos and Dunsany brought up the rear, keeping their distance lest they attract the attention of the god. Passing through a large set of heavily fortified double doors they came to what must have once been the barracks of the soldiers of the Order of the Swords of Dawn. Now, however, there was no sign of the holy warriors, although the blood-stained floor spoke clearly of what had happened to them. Instead, lounging on cots or sparring in the centre of the room with purloined weapons, there were a host of Red Chapter mercenaries. At first, they did not notice the presence of the god, but when Kerberos sent forth His disciples, the sight of their comrades, possessed by the light of the deity, brought many of them to their knees. Everything that had been human had been stripped away. Now they were merely the vessels of their god. Looking at Silus, Kelos wondered whether he’d ever see his friend behind those eyes again, and where – at that moment – his spirit resided. He was glad that Katya and Zac were not here to see this; the sight of Silus as he was now may well have destroyed them.
With His ever-growing army of followers, Kerberos descended through the last and deepest levels of the cathedral. Any Red Chapter mercenaries they met were either added to the legion or, if their minds were not robust enough, dispatched. And the further they descended, the more Hel’ss made its presence known. Many disciples were lost as the crimson glare of the deity poured from their eyes, with Kerberos forced to end their suffering as quickly as possible before the other god could spread its taint. Kelos and Dunsany followed this trail of the dead, all the while wondering why a god would have need of a mortal woman. Just what would Kerberos say to Katherine Makennon? Would she too become a vessel for the Lord of All?
When they finally stood before the ornate door leading to Makennon’s quarters, Dunsany reached for Kelos’s hand.
“Are you ready?” he said.
“Do we have a choice? Have we ever had a choice? I feel like we’ve been nothing more than pawns in a game played between gods.”
“It’s been a hell of an adventure, though, hasn’t it?”
“Oh, yes. Though it’s a pity we never got a chance to put that retirement plan of mine into effect. No desert island for us, just a ruined land at war once again.”
“That’s the Twilight we love.”
Kelos laughed. “And that’s the Dunsany I love. Now, let’s see what a god has to say for itself.”
K
ATHERINE
M
AKENNON HAD
heard the trail of destruction coming her way and had been about to call for her guards, when she remembered that those who remained were no longer hers to command. All authority had been stripped from her by the Red Chapter and she had been confined to her quarters, able to do little more than pray for her liberation.
This she did now, falling to her knees as she heard screams coming from beyond her chamber door.
“Lord of All, deliver me from this torment; free me to serve you once more.”
The prayer was no sooner spoken than the door opened and there, stood before her, was Silus Morlader.
Except it was not Silus Morlader, for from his eyes poured an azure light that she knew all too well.
Katherine Makennon looked into the eyes of her god and her heart filled with hope.
She was about to bow her head when Kerberos sank to His knees before her. He seemed to be in pain, and for a moment a cruel grin crossed His face as His eyes shone with an unholy light.
“No! This world is... not yours! This... this is
my
creation!” He screamed, and to hear such pain and despair in the voice of her god chilled Katherine Makennon to the very core.
“My Lord?” she said, reaching out and touching the man’s shoulder.
Kerberos looked up at Makennon – her god, her life, her reason for choosing the path that had seen her rise through the ranks of the Final Faith to become the most powerful woman on the peninsula – and there was fear in His eyes.
“Katherine Makennon. You have to help me, or all of Twilight will fall.”
There was a peal of thunder then, so loud that she heard it even here, far beneath the ground, and as her god bowed before her Katherine Makennon began to sob.
A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Wrath of Kerberos
seems like it took an epically long time to write – there was a lot going on during the coming together of the novel, all of it good. So, first and foremost all my thanks and love to my ever patient wife, Alison, who delivered to us a beautiful baby girl on the 10
th
February 2011, about halfway through my progress on this book (not that I was writing during the labour, you understand). So welcome, Maia Rose Oliver, you changed everything, all in the most wonderful way.
Thanks again to Rebecca Levene, who provided wise editorial guidance on the first draft of this beast. And thanks also to my colleagues, David More and Jenni Hill, who further knocked it into shape. Thanks to the team at Rebellion, for their patience and grace in working with one so often manic and strange. And thank you to Adam Tredowski for the stormingly good cover.