Chapter 17

At the edge of my realm was a sheer wall of rock in a roughly-circular configuration, probably the remains of an eons-old impact crater or perhaps the result of a Fae enraged beyond belief. If I had found such speculation to be sufficiently intriguing, it is quite possible that I could have found a dragon who remembered its formation, but right now, I was far more interested in the Dark God.

Hewn into this caldera using an obscenely conspicuous display of magic, was a wide tunnel through the granite rock. This was the chief means of journeying between Macura Province and my realm, the sheer rock providing an otherwise impassible barrier which had naturally come to mark the boundary of our respective territories.

I sat in the early evening upon the hills on the Macura side, suddenly spotting my prey. A wagon, pulled by a feral mule made its ponderous way towards the entrance to the tunnel. At the reins was the cart's sole occupant, a raccoon demon with cobalt blue fur and a pair of dark leathery wings protruding from his back. He was dressed in a set of plain robes... just another monk to the casual onlooker, but I knew better.

Putting away my telescope, I crouched behind a large rock, and waited a few minutes before making my trademark magical pass and vanishing in a flash of black light, which my opponent did not see having entered the yawning tunnel.

As the raccoon emerged from the cave, I leapt at him with astonishing speed courtesy of my own demon reflexes and dealt him a swift hook to the side of the head. Taken completely by surprise, he fell from his wagon and crumpled unconscious to the ground. With a jolt of mental force, I paralysed the frightened and bolting mule, allowing me to focus upon the raccoon demon without having to round up his steed into the bargain.

Entering my victim's unconscious mind, I made a few slight modifications to put him into a coma. Not an irreversible one, but enough to keep him placid for a day or so. Stripping the raccoon, I studied his body carefully from all angles and then stared at the back of my hand until it changed colour to match the demon's own dark blue fur.

Taking the most useful possessions from my pockets, I swapped clothes with him, donning his robes and carrying him to a cave in the mountainside where I left him lying there in my own attire, before taking his place upon the wagon. Beside me sat Niall, dressed as an acolyte.

* * *

"Welcome, Brother Farrow," cried the high priest, an ageing yet energetic fox whose black coat was punctuated throughout by flecks of grey. Behind him, illumined by flickering lamplight, the town's large gallows loomed in the distance, fitted with a new noose but mercifully unoccupied.

While I was no stranger to death and indeed had six killings to my name by that point in time, I was - and still am - of the opinion that executions are an absolute last resort and the sight of a furre swinging limply in the cool night breeze with their head lolling from a snapped neck would almost certainly have caused me to blow my cover.

"Father Mandamus, I believe?" I smiled, knowing full well that Niall and I had emptied the Holy Father's ashes into the lake just under a fortnight ago.

"Alas, our Holy Father is no longer with us - he is said to have been captured and martyred by heretics, so until such time as he is miraculously delivered to us, I have assumed his duties myself. You may call me Father Trumidian."

"Well met, Father," I said, shaking his hand. "I have brought with me a young acolyte to assist in the preparations for the Glorious Coming of our Lord. He has taken a vow of silence to improve his discipline and may speak only within the chapter house or the church itself and only then in connection with his duties. I trust this will not present a problem?"

"Indeed no," the Father replied as we entered the abbey. "Such acts of piety are indeed good for the soul. Let me show you to your quarters."

He showed us to a large room in the guest houses. Looking around, I smiled to myself. Like the little I had seen of the abbey so far, it was ornate and sumptuous, the Furry Church having evidently forsaken the austere furnishings of their more devout rivals and gone to seed. Most likely they were partial to rich food as well, and that would make the plan so much easier.

* * *

It was Terce on the morning of the day of the Glorious Coming of the Dark God, whom the Church of Christ the Furry still believed to be some divine saviour that would bring paradise to all Furrae.

My mole within the the Phoenix Oracles had told me the rituals which the Dark God was planning to invoke, which was what had originally given me the idea of taking Farrow's place since I not only knew how to perform the rituals but I also had a fairly good understanding of what made them actually work. I had given the prone Jay's mind a quick examination to verify what rituals he was expecting to perform, and now I was ready as was Niall, whom I had briefed on the few last-minute alterations during our ride into the town itself.

When the bell finally rung for Mass, we assembled into a well-lit chamber in the basement below the main church to perform a special ritual. The clergy stood in a circle marked upon the ground with blood from the slaughterhouses.

A boiling cauldron of sanctified incense sat upon a fire in the middle of the room, a receptacle to hold and focus the Dark's God's powers. Next to it was a small table containing holy books and a number of sacraments to be cast into the cauldron at the correct moment, guiding the collected energy into the form It required to manifest Itself. Adding these sacraments was to be Jay's duty and as far as the Dark God was concerned, he was indeed going to perform it in spite of the fact that he was really lying helpless in a cave some miles hence.

As the clergy began to chant, I took the first sacrament, a small coil of rope made into a hangman's noose, and threw it dramatically into the sanctified potion after performing a reasonably good imitation of blessing it, which was made easier by the fact that the Furry Church considered magic to be a sin and had therefore never seen the real thing.

At this point, the clergy's chant ended and they simultaneously reached for and ate their own blessed sacrament, a small slice of pumpkin pie placed on a lectern next to each member of the congregation which they washed down with consecrated wine.

"Is all in readiness?" I asked Niall.

"Yes my Master," he replied demurely, in exactly the way a silent acolyte would when commanded to speak by a superior. That boy is going to make a good actor, I thought.

No-one seemed to notice the triumphant gleam in my eyes and voice as I bade him find the correct page for the next part of the ritual. Perhaps they did, but if so they must have assumed I was pleased with way the ritual itself was progressing.

At some point between Prime and Terce, Niall had entered the kitchens on my instruction, bearing a parchment and a small vial of holy water to be added to the pie mixture. According to the parchment it came from the blessed fountain of Zyxthura Cathedral where Jay had been trained. This was in fact true until I had poured the contents away and replaced them with something that was neither water nor holy.

Nothing happened for a few minutes as the congregation began their second chant, but just before it ended - in a far more ragged and faltering way than the near-military precision of their first song - their voices were most definitely starting to go off key with one another as the LSD-25 took hold.

I cast the second sacrament, a toadstone, into the cauldron - deftly bouncing it off the rim of the cauldron where it ricocheted off the wall and fell into the fire. No-one noticed as I spat into the potion instead, confused as they were by the monumental drug overdose which Niall had spiked the pie with.

I will never know what it was that they saw, but by the time the fourth and final sacrament was due, the entire congregation barring Niall and myself were lying slumped upon the floor in various states of happiness, terror or profound insight.

For good measure, I absorbed the cauldron's energy into myself, transferring a third of it to Niall as well. After all, why waste such a bounty that was just left lying around already collected, ready for us to consume?

As the potion turned from its shimmering, glowing self into a cold lump of congealed mess, Niall and I hugged one another in the realisation that the Dark God's precious ritual had been averted, Its power now added to the reserves of Niall and myself. We would have had to eat quite a few souls to make such a gain as the Dark God had granted us that night.

Then a black, oily substance began to flow down the walls.

"Farrow," said a slick, almost simpering voice from mid-air. Releasing Niall I prostrated myself before the cauldron.

"I am here, Lord," I said, in what I hoped was a convincing replica of the raccoon's voice according to what I had read from his memories.

"Farrow, the ritual should have begun in earnest by now. Has there been a problem?"

"No, Lord," I replied. "I have performed the ritual exactly as you asked."

The god seemed to be oblivious to Its tripping followers - apparently It had a very narrow field of vision on Furrae until It could complete Its manifestation.

"The collected emotions from the hangings... the agony of the deaths and the oh-so-varied feelings of the crowds... All of this should have been gathered into that cauldron. It is empty. Explain."

"It was like that when I found it, Lord..." I mumbled.

"What are you doing?" It suddenly demanded as I stood up, grabbed Niall and teleported us both out of the abbey.

* * *

My hasty teleportation had deposited us somewhat further from our destination than I had intended, so we were forced to run into the cave before the Dark God realised where we had gone. Aware that these could be the last moments of our lives, Niall and I whooped with exhilaration and joked with each other as we ran in the knowledge that if even we were to die, we had outwitted a god and stalled Its plans to return for several hundred years. This laughter faltered and died when I turned round and noticed the fire and the lightning.

In the distance Mundathra burned, one last petty act of destruction from a fading power.

"Oh no..." I cried, as I entered the cave and moved rapidly to where Farrow was lying prone on the floor in a heap of debris. My black leather trenchcoat and indeed his chest had been pierced by some unknown force - apparently the Dark God had got here first.

Summoning a light spell I could see burn marks surrounding the wound and there was a horrible stench of cooked meat and burnt fur. I knelt down, and feeling his throat for a pulse, suddenly jumped back as his eyes opened slowly and focused upon me. Startled, I began to change back to my usual wolf form.

"No," he whispered, "you are the victor, incubus... you bested me, I beg of you, stay in my form...

"I see now the true nature of that which I swore to serve, and I'm only sorry... that it was not me... who thwarted It..." He struggled to sit up.

"I'm sorry," I said. "it wasn't meant to be like this..."

"Never mind that now... Dark God thinks it has killed you... Take my identity... but use it well... too late for me to seek redemption... But... if you do noble deeds in my persona...

People will remember me kindly... and not for my sins... That is my last... request..."

"But you don't have to die," I told him. "I can trap your soul. One day I'll find a new body for you, I promise..."

I searched for the soul-trapping crystals I usually carried with me, but it was in vain. The Dark God had smashed them during Its attack on Farrow. In any case, Jay didn't reply... a look of agony passed across his face and then with a small gasp it was replaced with a peaceful expression.

Standing up and closing my eyes, I saw his shade turn to face me, free of his terrible wound and casting a dim view of the cave around him as though he was some kind of light source. I really must ask someone about this, I thought to myself.

Jay looked at me expectantly. "I promise," I said, and he gave me a brief gesture of thanks before suddenly turning around as if someone had called his name. A few seconds later he was gone and I could see nothing but the inside of my eyelids.