~~
But Contegon Oasis Slice witnessed everything.
Chain was furthest back in the group, being the most tired of the surviving Contegons. Oasis had been determined to get to the Acolyte first after the ignominy of being so wounded and losing her entire cadre. So she jogged along, ignoring the flares of agony in her arm, and was the first see the Acolyte's body.
“Oh Sol,” she whispered.
“What is–” another Contegon, one she didn't know, said but then fell silent. She put her hand to her mouth. “Is that who I think it is?”
Oasis swallowed. She had seen the drawings, every stay-at-home had before they'd searched Aureu, so she knew exactly who it was. It felt as though the world had dropped out from under her. She couldn't fathom what she was seeing. “It is. It's the Heretic.”
“What does that mean?”
Oasis knelt beside the Heretic and put a finger against her throat. There was still a pulse, weak but there. It was a horrible thing to think but she'd have preferred that the Heretic had died as it would have made things much simpler...
“Wait, is that–?” someone asked.
“It's the Heretic,” Oasis replied.
“That can't be right. Did we see someone switch the bodies?”
“No,” another Contegon replied. Oasis thought it was Contegon Protect, an Academy teacher drafted into the Militia.
Oasis turned to the Contegons behind her. It was Protect, ageing and injured. In the distance was Chain, swaying on her feet. Oasis almost couldn't look at her. What must she be going through, seeing that her former best friend, a Heretic, had played such a part in Aureu's safety?
“She's alive,” Oasis told them.
Chain almost seemed to flinch at the news.
“Is that a miracle?” another unknown Contegon asked. Oasis decided she needed to spend more time getting to know people.
Then they heard a roar, guttural and savage. The others turned, but Oasis simply watched as Chain drew her weapons and charged them with her axes lifted. The other Contegons acted quickly, stopped her and held her firm so she couldn't commit murder. But Chain just kept screaming, kept fighting them.
“I knew it! I knew it! Don't let her live! She's an abomination! Kill her! Kill her!”
Oasis could almost understand Chain's reaction: this was the Heretic, and Heretics deserved no better. But really... they couldn't... they couldn't kill someone that could be an Acolyte, not with every Mariner in Aureu about to cross the Journey to see the body. And especially not when she was wounded and on the verge of life. There was no honour in it. It would not be within the teaching of the Sol Lexic to do so.
But was this even right? Chain was clearly holy and had saved all of Aureu... How did she know that Sol wasn't acting through the Chain?
This was complex. Oasis didn't like complexity.
Chain threw two of the Contegons away and dived toward the wounded Acolyte. Though it pained her, Oasis had to act, if only to ensure that Maya went before a Hereticum. She sprang forward, caught Chain unaware and knocked her out for her own good: a swift blow to the back of the head and Chain was out.
Some of Oasis' wounds ripped open, and she began gently bleeding afresh, but it was worth it. Seeing the anger fade from Chain's face and the weak, unconscious form of the Heretic, she knew she'd done the right thing. Such matters were for the Council and the Guardian to resolve.
Of course, she would only be out for a few seconds. Thankfully the other Contegons intervened and they took Chain's axes, tied her arms behind her for safety. Though whose safety it was for was a complex question.
“What do we do with them?” another Contegon asked.
She looked from Chain to the Acolyte and back to Chain. Blood soaked her own robes. Pain grated her nerves. “Take them to Aureu; let the Council decide.”
Hopefully no one had seen too much of what had occurred. But even if they had, the Contegons would close ranks around Chain and ensure she were treated as she deserved to be, as a hero of Sol.
Oasis still found herself troubled with the theological implications of what they now faced... the Heretic was the surviving Acolyte? What strange plan was this? Sol worked in obtuse ways, Oasis knew this. And it wasn't her place to wonder about whether she would be classed a Heretic or not. Again, she told herself that that was for the Lords and a Hereticum to decide.
“Let's go,” Contegon Protect said.
“Agreed,” Oasis replied.
The remaining Contegons, nine of them, lifted the two girls and returned them to Aureu together.
'I can't live a lie. I can't offer myself to something that doesn't exist.'
The Heretic Maya, 118 AC.
49
Maya came to with a cry, clawing at her chest as though to pull her wounds away. She did not take in her surroundings – a large white room filled with Doctors, Contegons, and Servants – and instead tried to save herself, renew her gaping chest. It took her a moment to realise she was not bleeding, not dying, that her Cyrus Force was having no effect because she was okay.
This proved to be confusing.
She lay down and felt a tightness around her ankles: her legs were held with strong leather straps. She was strapped to a cold, solid surface, one that was hip height from the floor. It must have been a bed of some sort, though it was deeply uncomfortable.
Then the room exploded: Doctors, each red-robed with matching braided beards, swarmed her, asking a hundred questions; Contegons secured the room; Clerics scribbled reports to be rushed across Aureu; and the Servants bustled, cleaned up or tended to those of Station. Everyone had been waiting for her, it seemed, and her waking had roused them into action.
“Applekill?” Maya thought, ignoring the hubbub. “What happened? Why aren't I dead?”
The Spirit appeared above her. Cringing, she wouldn't look Maya in the eyes.. “You... you were saved. I think it was Peace, but I don't know exactly what happened. But you can't rely on such things again, Maya. You should have died.”
Maya frowned. Applekill seemed... off. She searched her Spirit's feelings and saw she was probably telling the truth. Maybe Applekill was just shocked, upset, at seeing her master nearly die. The process of Spiritual Hibernation must be quite traumatic as well... and it was Maya's fault Applekill had gone through that pain.
“Trust me, I won't,” she replied.
Applekill nodded and disappeared. It was time for Maya to deal with the real world, and she didn't need any distractions.
Maya ignored everyone talking at her and took in her surroundings. Her situation was... unusual: no one had taken her sword, so she wasn't under arrest... but she was restrained; having Contegons nearby meant someone was worried about keeping her in or keeping others out, but there weren't enough to protect a suspected Heretic; and this swarm of Doctors desperately asking her about her symptoms, feelings, her state of mind – trying to make their names, the absolute mercenaries – must have been summoned for her well-being. So she couldn't be considered a Heretic by the Council...
Maya decided to find out where she stood. She held her hand up, and the Doctors went silent. The whole room watched her, holding their breath. From their gazes and the Servant's slight acquiescence, they held her in esteem, but were not sure they should. There was no rush of Cyrus Force as their feelings would be siphoned off to the Spirit Ocean now they knew she was a person, but their respect was clear because they had all quietened at her asking.
“I am fine. Sol saved me.”
It hurt to lie. Oh, it hurt to lie, to assign her achievements, Nephilim's training and kindness, to a non-existent god. Living like this would be the hardest part of her new life. For now, she shut her emotions down and summoned her battle mind. To keep going, she would face the world as though it were a war.
The room filled with gasps. Servants fell into kneeling prayers and whispered thanks. Everyone reacted as expec–
“I think we'll be the judges of that,” a Contegon shouted, halting t
he room's reaction. She was older than most, wore her long grey hair in a ponytail. No, she wasn't a Contegon: her robes' lining and tone gave her away as something more.
“Councillor White?” Maya guessed.
“Yes. And you are the Heretic Maya. Until you're brought before the Hereticum, that is what you remain, so do not make speak of Sol or Lun, or you will be found guilty by default. Do you understand me, Maya?”
A Hereticum? Well, that confirmed that. There must be some debate for her to still be attended by Doctors, but she was under more suspicion than she'd thought. Which made sense, given how cautious the Solaric Council could be...
Thinking of them reminded her of Outer Aureu, of the evil they allow to pass every day. She had been wrong to assume anything good about them. They might fear and hate her, might be setting her up for the real fight of a Hereticum.
And it would be a fight: from memory, Hereticums are debates between people of Station, those who have evidence of the acts of Heresy and the accused, with scripture and faith being the only valid defence. Which was why Councillor White had warned her about speaking of Sol: until she was determined to be a believer, anything she said about either Sol or Lun would be classed as Heresy.
A thought struck Maya. She couldn't believe she hadn't asked about this earlier. “Can I ask something?”
Councillor White nodded.
“How exactly was Aureu saved after I... fell?”
“You don't know?” White exclaimed, her voice rising over whispers and murmured confusion.
Maya felt she had made a mistake. “Answering that question might get me executed, I fear.”
“Okay Maya,” Councillor White said. “The Militia, led by Contegons of this city, engaged the remaining Disciples and were slaughtered. That is, until Contegon Chain Justicar, inspired by Sol, devised a method of fighting them. Then they fell, all of them. Casualties were heavy but Aureu endured: it survived.”
Maya blinked. She couldn't believe the... the serendipity of that. Or the irony. She had failed, and Chain had stepped in to save Aureu. It was so ironic that it physically hurt her. “And how is... Contegon Justicar?” she winced. “Did she survive?”
“Yes.” White's tone was... odd, filled with hesitation and less identifiable emotions. Something must have happened with Chain. Maybe she was seriously wounded? Maya wanted to know more and so she read White's emotions–
At that moment, a Messenger entered the room. Everyone turned to face him, and the moment was gone. Councillor White's equilibrium reasserted itself. Maya would have to wait to find out what had happened to Chain.
The Messenger handed Councillor White a scroll with the Council's seal, a wax imprint of ten people sat around Sol. White flicked her wrist, and a blade appeared in her hand, sharp and polished. She slit the wax, broke the seal, and read the message.
With a nod she signed the paper and handed it to the Messenger. “Those of the Solaric Council currently in Aureu are assembled for a Hereticum. Doctors, make the patient ready for transport. Contegons... I shouldn't need to give you more orders. Maya,” Councillor White held her gaze, her aged face carefully passive, “I shall see you in the Space.”
Councillor White left and the room again exploded into action: the Contegons ran out to secure the way, and the Doctors laid her down and strapped her arms to the bed. They were useless bonds that she could break at any moment but she had a role to play now, a life to lead carefully, so she let herself be so restrained.
The bed apparently had wheels. So the Doctors and remaining Contegons pushed her out into Aureu. There was a hushed susurrus around her. Maya closed her eyes and ignored the overhanging sky to centre herself and prepare to give testimony. This session would be almost as important as fighting the Disciples.