21: Machinations of a False Prophet
Amanda could feel the heat of the flame scorching her face, the dancing death threatening to burst free from its torch and consume her. She wished it would. She took a few more cautious steps towards the pyres, looking down at the gravel path to avoid the jubilant faces urging her onwards – and the horrified looks of her friends and fellow students, whose lives she had been ordered to end. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could feel the powerful presence of the Patriarch watching down from the balcony above. If only she could throw the fire his way and burn his evil to ash!
But she couldn’t, even if he were standing right there in front of her, even if she had a gun and he was on his knees begging forgiveness, because he had absolute power over her. If she refused to kill her friends, he would kill her family. No matter what choice she made, her friends were going to die. All she could do was hope for a miracle, hope that the spitting rain suddenly became a downpour, hope she woke up from the nightmare and could be with her friends again.
Around her the brainwashed masses cheered, like spectators at the football match. Four more steps until the pyres. Hope faded.
***
“I hope the others are having a better go at this than we are,” said Theseus to his companions, sounding bitterer about the situation than he’d intended – not that it wasn’t a bad situation to be in! They were trapped in a storeroom adjacent to a hi-tech laboratory, where some armoured knights were talking with Godhand scientists (Theseus still found that idea incomprehensible) and testing a variety of projectile and energy weapons on a multitude of targets. The scene of hefty men in metal plating vaporising mannequins and reducing brick walls to dust in a hail of bullets, all while the crimson-robed zealots of Godhand wrote notes on their palm-computers and scanned damage ratios with complex devices that would have even John baffled was the last thing Theseus had expected to find lurking underneath the manor. He’s expected a mystical ark or aged holy books filled with misinterpreted fables!
“At least we’re getting to see all this,” replied John. Even when deprived of his technology his senses were keen and Theseus could tell he was taking in every little detail for future recall. Andromeda, on the other hand, was still trying to strike up a conversation with their captors. The knights that had been assigned to guard them, however, were so silent Theseus wondered if they were even human. It wasn’t like he could see faces beneath those visored helmets, after all.
“I assure you, if we are allowed to go free, this information won’t be released to the public,” said Andromeda, “As I said before, if our associates do not hear from us at the designated time, they will assume the worst. I am sure you agree that this would not be in anyone’s best interest!”
Once again, Godhand didn’t reply, though Theseus was beginning to hope they would. Listening to Andromeda repeat the same arguments over and over for much longer was going to be as agonising as any torture these freaks could come up with! He was thankful when a knight in golden armour encrusted with rubies appeared. Something would finally happen, he hoped. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what Theseus expected.
Nowhere near.
