Harken

Chapter 12

The full moon was an illusion in the sky, a distorted image of perfection betraying the chaos to ensue below. The Vicar occupied himself adjusting the large brass cross' position on a wall. Alex's fingers drummed rhythmically on the newly polished pews, his eyes watching the thick wooden doors with silent interest. Harken felt the nerves radiating off his companion, secretly jealous that Alex could feel such a way. Harken may have finished downloading all the data from his cortex chip but he had only gained knowledge with no human emotion; he was still a shell with no heart inside. He wished he could feel anything at all, maybe even pain or joy, but that would waste time. People were relying on him to solve this problem that had arisen before and with his arrival. He had to succeed. Finally, the tall wooden entrance was pushed open with a strong waft of rotten wood scent. He had come with two guards and a device to signal an army, yet Nekrah felt truly alone as he strode with false power into the gaping mouth of the church. Nekrah's green eyes had been dulled since their last meeting and this sudden loss of scheming nature troubled Harken just as much as it gnawed at the inside of the man himself. The eyes of the other two men present also worried him. The doors slammed shut. Anicetus smirked as he lazily paced forward towards his glaring brother, both sharing a look of subdued and still bitter hatred. They studied each other, Anicetus' blonde hair and olive skin revealed from under his previous disguise. No one stopped them from doing so. Not until Harken spoke in his normal emotionless tone: "You may not want to be here but at least you came. We may be enemies now but there must be a way out. We can find a way to rule the country for the benefit of the people, maybe even find ways to compromise for your wants too. I won't allow you, however, to act like fools and reinstate or recreate a dictatorship you once dreamed of or a broken democracy you could easily bend to your will. I know more about you than you think I do, so please trust me to unite us all". Nothing at all. Only a sick, twisted cackle from Anicetus. "Oh Harken! You really think we care about your hopeless dream of utopia, of incorruptible peace? It doesn't exist you idiot! It never will, do you understand? Never in million years. Society's only purpose is to exist so those with slightly more power or riches or abilities can rise and climb to the top and live as ruthless leaders. It's paradise for those who can play their cards and bluff to those naive servants you call 'people'. If they were told of a new leader, they'd follow them, even if they had grievances they'd be too cowardly to do anything close to rebellion. So instead of living in a dying society like the one you're suggesting, why not live under a fearless leader who gets what he wants. Who'll stab someone with possibly more power square in the chest, slit the throat of a traitor and fix his head on the battlements of his fine palace. People say they don't want to be controlled and yet they docilely let it happen. All of you are the real fools!". The anger still seethed and seeped out of his panting mouth as Anicetus withdrew a concealed dagger from his waistcoat, a stunning one with a emerald mosaic handle and a sharp tempting blade. He faced Harken, his smirk erupting into a grin, his hands gripping the handle. "Who should I cut first?", he whispered, "the holy mechanical angel that will save us all, the treacherous brother who ignored me for all those years and shunned my ideas or maybe that figure who thought he was so mighty playing god? It's hard but think of the reputation I'd gain at killing a real angel." He lunged. Time halted as the blade advanced in one swift movement, a faint swishing noise heard as it hurtled towards Harkens chest. No time for the Angel to react or for him to stop the assault. But when it was all over, Harken was not the one bleeding out his guts. It was Nekrah, the previous foe who had jumped in front of the piercing blade, impaled just right of his stilling heart. A groan escaped his lips as he melted to the floor. As Harken knelt to his side, Alexiares burst into motion and pushed his brother to the floor and drew his own blade. But the rebellion had already forced their way into the church, killed Nekrah's guards and stood ready to attack with their long pointed swords and worn guns. It seemed so hopeless to Harken, feeling Nekrah's blood bleeding all over his hands, hearing the ugly clashes of the daggers from the brotherly war and seeing the Vicar fearfully cowering behind the alter. There appeared no magic solution to such a dire problem, such a depressing outcome of an attempt at peace. But he had to try. Harken shifted Nekrah's arm onto his shoulder, prepared to stand up and motioned for the Vicar to escape out the back door. Instead, after a frantic scuttle, the Vicar was beside Harken with flickering white candle clutched tightly to him. "My boy, what will we do? We are too small and weak a group to fight all these brutes. We must steal away, escape from all this. Maybe Nekrah's forces can save us, my boy. But us alone? Oh no, my boy, no way".
"I saw my own gravestone outside this church, Vicar. I am not stupid. I will die and if I am destined to die it will not be by running away. I will fight to the end of time and the universe and to the end of everything in existence if I can. And I have an idea, but it will pain you deeply Vicar", Harkens voice had evolved into a determined alien hiss, sending shivers down dying Nekrah's spine. He shifted slightly. "Then do it, Harken. We may never have been on the same side. But this is my country and it's my duty to save it from those future tyrants so I will help you". The two pre-destined enemies shared a understanding glance before Harken snatched the candle out of the Vicar's trembling hands. He wildly looked around, searched for the thing he needed to make this work. On the south-west wall of the church, hanging limply despite the commotion, was a beautiful woven tapestry of the crucifixion. He also noticed the jade rug still lying on the church floor. He knew what to do now. Harken turned to Nekrah: "can you walk?". When met with a solemn shake of the head, he shouldered Nekrah into the arms of the confused Vicar. "Get him out". Then, just as the rebellion army was coming to capture or kill him, Harken moved. He sprinted faster than he knew he could, clutching the candle tightly, running over the rug and lowering his hand so it grazed against it. It caught fire. And when he reached the wall, grabbing Alex firmly as he went, so did the tapestry. Flames licked at the fabric, dancing energetically in the night, spreading like a plague to the wooden elements of the church (which was most of it excluding the walls and some other things). It startled Anicetus, the fire reflecting into his bewildered, horrified eyes and scattering his soldiers who tried to find ways to put it out with anything they found. "You can't do this to me Alexiares! I'm your brother! Yours, does that mean anything to you? Anything?" Anicetus pleaded madly. No one acknowledged his crazed begging as Harken, Alex and the Vicar supporting the badly wounded Nekrah escaped the rapidly burning church, bolting the door behind them. They watched it burn, the heat enveloping the ancient wooden beams and illuminating the cracks and holes in the church doors. Alex shed a few tears of woe, thinking of how his brother was forever lost. Harken had ripped the leg of Nekrah's trouser to press the wound, soak up the blood trickling out. He felt terrible, this was all wrong, he knew it. But his frantic hands were calmly shoved aside by the false god. "No. Don't. I've been ruling here for a long time, Harken, and I didn't even want to in the first place. I was playing this game of manipulation to hide from the grief I felt inside. I lost my home city and someone very close to me, I wanted to die. I though pretending would eventually get me killed and I thought the same about ruling. But I was wrong, so so wrong. Just let me die here. If it's any comfort to you, at least I died some kind of last minute antihero. For you of course. Jainko warned me you would lead to my death, like you killed that cultist in my garden. But that doesn't matter. Just... take this Harken". Nekrah ripped something from his neck; a bronze chain with an ornate vial on the end. The crimson liquid inside swirled around dreamily. Nekrah smiled faintly: "it's your blood Harken. I was going to have it analysed or something, I can't remember now, but I just couldn't part from it. It was sentimental in a confusing and eerie way. I should return it to you though, it's yours".
"Are you sure?", Harken whispered, "about dying? You could start anew...". His eyes had begun to leak tears, Harken realised. "Oh Harken, I already have". Nekrah let out a final chuckle, his hand slipping from Harken's, his blood no longer flowing free. Alex broke the ensuing silence: "he didn't mean that much Harken. He was nothing to you but an enemy and brief ally." He was stopped by a particularly nasty grimace. "Alex, technically he was my father. I may be the product of an infernal machine but his DNA is what brought me to life in the first place. His blood keeps my heart alive". His flare of anger shocked them all. They were silent, finally looking back at the burning church and trying to ignore the guttural screams piercing its stone walls. Alex was ready to ask what was next, ready to move on and start the future. But the universe had other plans, cogs working in reverse behind the scenes and dark forces waiting in the wings. Harken's head exploded into an agonising headache. Pain.