The Colors of Alemeth - Vol. 1

CHAPTER 27

  Niche Festum

  “W-we were just about to leave,” said Jaala.

  “No need. It’s so much fun here,” said the man and smiled. His blue eyes flashed ominously. “Niche Festum loves receiving new faces.”

  Alem was paralyzed and getting dizzy. Did he say niche? Niche Fest? What was that?

  The man read the confusion on their faces.

  “Come with me to a quiet room over there and I’ll explain whatever you want about Umbra.”

  Hazael shook his head.

  “You know you’re in Umbra, right?”

  “We’ll leave now, s-sorry,” said Jaala.

  He stepped to the side to swerve past the man and go through. But from behind the orange cloak, coming from the dark, two others emerged.

  Alem thought they were monsters; he had never seen anyone like that. They didn’t have on their hoods, their heads were shaved on the sides, and their hair at the top, almost a meter long, was pulled back horizontally, stiff as a board. Their faces were full of grotesque colorful drawings that went down their necks and reappeared in their arms and wrists. The orange cloaks over their huge bodies were closed.

  “Let’s talk a little bit first, okay?” the man repeated.

  He passed them toward the madness that was still happening at the end of the tunnel, and the two men with drawn faces encouraged them to follow him.

  They pierced the noisy crowd. The black and psychedelic lights flickered and confused them, the sweaty skin of strangers scraped against theirs.

  Lael trembled and was about to cry, just like Hazael.

  The man entered a fenced area, guarded by one of those scrawled skin monsters. In the middle of the reserved area was a large empty glass cube.

  The sound of music declined as they entered it but was still audible. The lights were still flashing but didn’t illuminate all around, leaving them virtually in half light. Inside the cube was nothing.

  The strange man stopped in the center and turned to them. They saw his smile in the shadow that the hood cast on his face, through the flashes of light from outside the cube.

  “Is it your first time in Umbra?”

  With these words Lael officially started to cry. The man almost cried with him.

  “Don’t be afraid, little boy.” He patted Lael on the head, something that seemed to paralyze him. “It’s all right.”

  He withdrew his hand abruptly and smiled again.

  “My name is Etaú. Sorry I don’t have something more comfortable to offer you….” He gestured around. “But this will have to serve. Now I’ll ask you again.” He articulated each syllable as if they didn’t speak the same language. “Is it your first time in Um-bra?”

  Alem nodded shyly.

  “It’s not hard to tell. People usually only find this place if they come with someone who already knows Umbraland. And who helps them walk around here. But you… are alone. The Conclave requires me to ask you how. How did you find this place?”

  Alem swallowed. It might be a good idea to mention the winged man. Perhaps Etaú knew him; maybe he knew why he had lead them there. Maybe it all made sense.

  “I saw some lady from my window at home,” said Jaala. “She went down here, through a fountain. I didn’t mean to pry—”

  “Oh, it must be Ahas; she doesn’t take any care. I’ll deal with her later.” He looked Jaala in the eyes. “But you’re right, you shouldn’t be snooping.”

  “We didn’t want—”

  “But it’s too late for that now. You’re already here.” He motioned with his hand, and the glass behind him lighted up like a movie screen.

  The flashing lights from the party outside were like lightning in a thunderstorm during the night. The screen light was dim, and it too flashed from time to time. There, the symbol of Umbra emerged, white on black, but Etaú didn’t turn to it.

  “Umbra, or Hades, or Tartarus, although the latter two terms are still only used by old umbriferos, is a secret society. And when I say secret, I’m deadly serious. Created to house the insane ones of our society, the sinister, the strange, the misfits, the bastards, those who do not have a place up there.”

  Lael began to sob again.

  Etaú continued, “It is in that place that you are.” He smiled.

  Someone crashed into the hub side window, startling them. A naked girl was leaning against the window, her hair spread on the transparent glass. A boy, also naked, held her by the waste and threw himself against her. They were screaming.

  Two caped men grabbed them and threw them out of the fenced area, but they didn’t cease what they were doing.

  “We are increasing in number. So much so that it’s necessary to organize ourselves into groups. Or rather, into niches. Each niche has its own characteristics, its own area of focus, of what is forbidden above. New behaviors that are rejected by the Institution are included in an existing niche, sometimes leading to a change in the niche’s name, as was the case with Festum, which before was named Sexus. Or the Conclave meets and creates a new niche for this new behavior. But that hasn’t happened in a long, long time.”

  This is completely wrong. Was that Etaú, who didn’t even have a biblical name, capable of kidnapping children and participating in satanic rituals in monasteries’ forests?

  “W-we do not need to kn-know,” Hazael managed to say. “We can leave now.”

  “Now you can’t, sorry.” Etaú made a sad expression. “Now I’ll have to tell you about Umbra. It is mandatory. It doesn’t matter if you asked or not, or if you have to go. Once inside the cube, you have to listen until the end.”

  Hazael swallowed.

  “How come the Institution doesn’t know about this?” risked Alem.

  “Who said it doesn’t know?”

  “It can’t know. It would’ve destroyed it all by now.”

  Etaú let out a hearty laugh.

  “If you say so….”

  “It can’t know,” repeated Alem.

  “Then why does it prohibit black clothing? What is the curfew for? And why does it kill everyone who is found infringing those rules?”

  No one answered.

  “Umbra is as old as the Institution, though you called it something else back then. But the Institution too had another name. And since the beginning, from the first redemption, the Institution has been trying to destroy us. At that time, it was all done at night. It was at night that Umbra planned the revolution: The First Rebellion. Swords, poison and horses were the weapons of then, but it wasn’t enough and the Institution won. From then it decreed a curfew.”

  “But the umbriferos who survived didn’t stop going out and began wearing black cloaks to conceal themselves at night. The cape then became a symbol of Umbra and the revolt against the Institution. Many died, caught by the Order of the Night, the first name of the Brigade. Yet still Umbra managed to organize the Second Rebellion. When the song, The Night Comfort, aired on the radio that day, it gave umbriferos the signal to leave their houses and murder the clergy and the members of the Institution they found in the churches and the Palace of the Curia.” Etaú’s voice was a torn whisper. “We were almost exterminated. A greater loss than the first. The Institution gathered, for days, all black garments that existed in the world, including scarves and ties and burned everything. Dozens of bonfires rose in the main capitals of the world; the one in the Square of God raged on for days.”

  The hatred in Etaú’s eyes was so fiery that he didn’t seem to see through them, though he looked at the boys alternately.

  “All this so they could stop Umbra. But we are still here. And this is our new home.”

  “The sewers…,” stammered Hazael.

  “The sewers. They began to be utilized from then. After the shameful defeat of the Second Rebellion, many years passed before Umbra woke up definitely. And when it did, it found the perfect place to hide. And now that we are under the earth, we can evolve much more.”

  “But the Institution hasn’t found this?
”

  “There’s a reason for that: Circulus Protectionis, the circle of protection, an ancient spell cast by mystici during the new moon. Every month, umbriferos from around the world come to Carmel’s Umbraland to watch the ritual where a rotating circle of dark energy is released around Umbra, protecting it from the outside.”

  On the screen, the white circle whirled in three dimensions at an increasing rate, until it looked like a sphere.

  “This circle of protection has never been broken, and therefore, in all these decades, the Institution has never been able to find the seat of our underworld.”

  “But the sewers…,” Hazael said. “The sewers are maintained by the Institution.”

  “Powerful magic, boy. Powerful magic and umbriferos infiltrated in the Institution keep this place safe. Oh, and the basic rule of Umbra, of course: do not talk about this up there.”

  He put his finger to his lips as if to tell them to shut up.

  “And now I must tell you about the seven niches, another rule of the Conclave, although I know you only need to hear about the orange niche. I’ll start with that one.”

  He raised his arm in a theatrical gesture and said, “I present to you….”

  The symbol on the screen changed. Against the black background emerged, in orange: