01-21-2015, 10:05 PM
Armande folded his hands behind his back as his hard blue eyes drifted over the audience. Peripherally he was aware of the array of Inquisitors behind him; of the traitor’s arrival. Borovsky was nothing if not efficient. He would do well as Head of the First Canticle. The faces he saw were somber. His words had had an effect on them, though obviously in different ways for each one. Which was exactly the point. The winnowing of the chaff had already begun.
Stone, surprisingly, seemed to walk to his position of his own volition. There was no struggle, no plea for mercy. Stoic. Well at least the man would die with dignity. Unlike Punit, who’d died as an entitled child unable to curb his desires for the greater good. Pure waste.
The man knelt at his feet, hands bound, facing the crowd. The Regus’ cold gaze passed over them once more. The looks on most of their faces indicated that they knew what was going to happen. Good. The Atharim and those who worked with them would know this was a war. Treason was punishable by death. No quarter would ever be given.
”Father Stone has been found guilty of the following. Siring a reborn god. Conspiring to hide her once her true nature had manifested itself. Falsifying and deleting records. And physically interfering with another hunter in their pursuit.” His voice was cold and sterile. This was not vengeance. It was not passion. It was justice, pure and true.
He pulled a black silk hood from one of the pockets of his cassock. He moved slowly and deliberately as he draped it over the man’s head. Nothing showed on his hard face as he pulled the knotted silken rope out. In his mind, though, a memory came to him. The day he had become the Regus, with the ceremonial strangling of his two Atharim brethren by the Pope to seal away the knowledge of the connection between them. It was a holy memory, a covenant made in the old way, with the taking of a life.
This was a different sort of covenant. It was a reaffirmation, a rededication to what it meant to be Atharim. But like all holy covenants, it would be sealed in blood. ”For this treason and the danger he knowingly placed all of mankind in, he is sentenced to death.”
The silken cord went around his neck and the Regus Armande Nicodemus pulled it tight, his still strong muscles taut. The only sound that could be heard was the muffled movements of the man as he involuntarily struggled and tried to moan. Time seemed to draw out and his own blood pulsed in his ears. Armande’s eyes were blue ice as they watched his audience. No expression of any kind showed on his face. Only the drumming of Stone’s feet and sudden slump said he was dead, but he continued to hold the cord tight for another slow count of sixty. Finally, he let go and pulled his cord free as the lifeless body slumped to the side.
He stepped back and two Inquisitors came and dragged it away. ”We.are.Atharim. We are ‘The Remnant.’ The last ones DEDICATED to the preservation of the human race from slavery and death. This is a war. Treason, aiding and abetting the enemy, is punishable by death. As it always has been. We will not lose sight of why we are here. Nor will we turn a blind eye to the danger this world now lies in. The gods will NOT retake their place over us. Never again. Apollyon the Destroyer does not frighten us. WE are the Athari! WE stand for humanity! And WE WILL WIN!”
He would accept nothing less.
Stone, surprisingly, seemed to walk to his position of his own volition. There was no struggle, no plea for mercy. Stoic. Well at least the man would die with dignity. Unlike Punit, who’d died as an entitled child unable to curb his desires for the greater good. Pure waste.
The man knelt at his feet, hands bound, facing the crowd. The Regus’ cold gaze passed over them once more. The looks on most of their faces indicated that they knew what was going to happen. Good. The Atharim and those who worked with them would know this was a war. Treason was punishable by death. No quarter would ever be given.
”Father Stone has been found guilty of the following. Siring a reborn god. Conspiring to hide her once her true nature had manifested itself. Falsifying and deleting records. And physically interfering with another hunter in their pursuit.” His voice was cold and sterile. This was not vengeance. It was not passion. It was justice, pure and true.
He pulled a black silk hood from one of the pockets of his cassock. He moved slowly and deliberately as he draped it over the man’s head. Nothing showed on his hard face as he pulled the knotted silken rope out. In his mind, though, a memory came to him. The day he had become the Regus, with the ceremonial strangling of his two Atharim brethren by the Pope to seal away the knowledge of the connection between them. It was a holy memory, a covenant made in the old way, with the taking of a life.
This was a different sort of covenant. It was a reaffirmation, a rededication to what it meant to be Atharim. But like all holy covenants, it would be sealed in blood. ”For this treason and the danger he knowingly placed all of mankind in, he is sentenced to death.”
The silken cord went around his neck and the Regus Armande Nicodemus pulled it tight, his still strong muscles taut. The only sound that could be heard was the muffled movements of the man as he involuntarily struggled and tried to moan. Time seemed to draw out and his own blood pulsed in his ears. Armande’s eyes were blue ice as they watched his audience. No expression of any kind showed on his face. Only the drumming of Stone’s feet and sudden slump said he was dead, but he continued to hold the cord tight for another slow count of sixty. Finally, he let go and pulled his cord free as the lifeless body slumped to the side.
He stepped back and two Inquisitors came and dragged it away. ”We.are.Atharim. We are ‘The Remnant.’ The last ones DEDICATED to the preservation of the human race from slavery and death. This is a war. Treason, aiding and abetting the enemy, is punishable by death. As it always has been. We will not lose sight of why we are here. Nor will we turn a blind eye to the danger this world now lies in. The gods will NOT retake their place over us. Never again. Apollyon the Destroyer does not frighten us. WE are the Athari! WE stand for humanity! And WE WILL WIN!”
He would accept nothing less.