08-17-2016, 08:27 PM
Armande looked at Martin directly, blue eyes furnaces in which burned the secrets that would set an age on fire. ”No, my friend. Not irrelevant at all. Sit down.” Martin complied and he studied him for a moment. Martin did not have the same intellectual curiosity as he himself did. To Armande, intellectual and historical puzzles were as thrilling as the greatest of physical challenges.
The man, by contrast, best enjoyed the hunt, the prey, the dangerous quarry. He was a weapon, to be sharpened and pointed at will. A sword did not ask where to strike, a dagger decide which heart was necessary to stop beating. It was for the mind and the heart of the person wielding the weapon to decide how it was used.
But in this case, it would do the man good to know. ”You have been an excellent hunter. From the moment I found you, I was impressed by your single mindedness. But you have moved beyond a simple hunter. You were the High Inquisitor. You are now Metatron, leader of the first Canticle. Each level you ascend has required more of your mind. Now that we are facing the most dangerous man of the age, perhaps of any age, more shall again be required of you.”
He let the words sink in. Martin never shied away from a challenge, however unliked. If nothing else, his pride refused to let it best him. Now it was time to give away some of the pieces. ”Until now, I doubt you have ever really wondered at the creation of the creatures the Atharim kill. Most Atharim hunt. It is enough for them to kill Oni and Rakshasa and even the D’jinn. However, they did not spring into existence of their own accord. Every one of them was a direct creation or a byproduct of the gods meddling with forces that should have been left alone.”
That was the understatement to define all understatements. The gods had taken godhood as a mantle upon themselves. What then was it to use the power of the gods to create things of nightmare. But, even the gods followed a logic, however twisted and evil it was.
”I now set before you a task for your imagination. The godwars have been raging for centuries. The oldest records indicate that the earliest wars involved two groups, the Titans and the Olympians. Their wars have decimated the land and they are tiring. You are a Titan, seeking a way to remove your enemies from the field while losing as few of your precious resources as possible. Assuming you have the power to warp living things, what would you create? What kind of tool? What would be the most advantageous to you? Think tactically.” The man already had been given the answer, even if he did not yet see it.
He watched Barovsky’s eyes as the man mulled over the problem. The man had intelligence. He could get this. The frontal war was dangerous and had cost far too much. Stealth had to reign. And then he saw the recognition in his eyes, the slow smile threatening to take over his face. ”Assassins,”
he whispered. ”Able to move wraithlike into whatever room or tent or corridor they desired. They’d have to have some kind of protection against the power, too! Are you saying Ijiraq…?”
Armande was pleased. ”Indeed. That is exactly the decision those gods of old made. The histories, as distorted with time as they are, indicate exactly that. It was the Titan Ouranos that they are most associated with. Creatures created by him, or those under him, in order to seek out and kill the other gods.”
He paused, letting it sink in. ”The whisper of them is found in the oldest of Greek myth. The Arai, the Erinys, the Furies, whom Hesiod called the daughters of Ouranos. Implacable and unrelenting pursuers of those deserving of the god’s punishment, as Aeschylus wrote:
Queens are we and mindful of our solemn vengeance.
Not by tear or prayer
Shall a man avert it. In unhonoured darkness,
Far from gods, we fare,
Lit unto our task with torch of sunless regions,
And o'er a deadly way-
Deadly to the living as to those who see not
Life and light of day-
Hunt we and press onward.
“
He stopped. He could get carried away in this, the teasing out of the puzzle: Eumenedes below the earth, Roman Furiae and Dirae on and above it; Homer’s enigmatic Erebos, the place they reside until a ‘curse’, an arae, calls them forth- where did they hide all these millennia? What have they been doing? Has someone been calling them forth now, here?; hair of serpents- Is that a reference to their being used by the ancient Atharim?
”I had hoped the girl’s account chould shed light on some of the questions the histories and myths raise concerning these assassins. Whether they were being controlled. If so, how. Had they had a target and why. But she was of little help. And so we must use the information he have and proceed.”
His eyes dropped to the package on his table again, inviting Martin to notice it.
[[Barovsky modded with permission]]
The man, by contrast, best enjoyed the hunt, the prey, the dangerous quarry. He was a weapon, to be sharpened and pointed at will. A sword did not ask where to strike, a dagger decide which heart was necessary to stop beating. It was for the mind and the heart of the person wielding the weapon to decide how it was used.
But in this case, it would do the man good to know. ”You have been an excellent hunter. From the moment I found you, I was impressed by your single mindedness. But you have moved beyond a simple hunter. You were the High Inquisitor. You are now Metatron, leader of the first Canticle. Each level you ascend has required more of your mind. Now that we are facing the most dangerous man of the age, perhaps of any age, more shall again be required of you.”
He let the words sink in. Martin never shied away from a challenge, however unliked. If nothing else, his pride refused to let it best him. Now it was time to give away some of the pieces. ”Until now, I doubt you have ever really wondered at the creation of the creatures the Atharim kill. Most Atharim hunt. It is enough for them to kill Oni and Rakshasa and even the D’jinn. However, they did not spring into existence of their own accord. Every one of them was a direct creation or a byproduct of the gods meddling with forces that should have been left alone.”
That was the understatement to define all understatements. The gods had taken godhood as a mantle upon themselves. What then was it to use the power of the gods to create things of nightmare. But, even the gods followed a logic, however twisted and evil it was.
”I now set before you a task for your imagination. The godwars have been raging for centuries. The oldest records indicate that the earliest wars involved two groups, the Titans and the Olympians. Their wars have decimated the land and they are tiring. You are a Titan, seeking a way to remove your enemies from the field while losing as few of your precious resources as possible. Assuming you have the power to warp living things, what would you create? What kind of tool? What would be the most advantageous to you? Think tactically.” The man already had been given the answer, even if he did not yet see it.
He watched Barovsky’s eyes as the man mulled over the problem. The man had intelligence. He could get this. The frontal war was dangerous and had cost far too much. Stealth had to reign. And then he saw the recognition in his eyes, the slow smile threatening to take over his face. ”Assassins,”
he whispered. ”Able to move wraithlike into whatever room or tent or corridor they desired. They’d have to have some kind of protection against the power, too! Are you saying Ijiraq…?”
Armande was pleased. ”Indeed. That is exactly the decision those gods of old made. The histories, as distorted with time as they are, indicate exactly that. It was the Titan Ouranos that they are most associated with. Creatures created by him, or those under him, in order to seek out and kill the other gods.”
He paused, letting it sink in. ”The whisper of them is found in the oldest of Greek myth. The Arai, the Erinys, the Furies, whom Hesiod called the daughters of Ouranos. Implacable and unrelenting pursuers of those deserving of the god’s punishment, as Aeschylus wrote:
Queens are we and mindful of our solemn vengeance.
Not by tear or prayer
Shall a man avert it. In unhonoured darkness,
Far from gods, we fare,
Lit unto our task with torch of sunless regions,
And o'er a deadly way-
Deadly to the living as to those who see not
Life and light of day-
Hunt we and press onward.
“
He stopped. He could get carried away in this, the teasing out of the puzzle: Eumenedes below the earth, Roman Furiae and Dirae on and above it; Homer’s enigmatic Erebos, the place they reside until a ‘curse’, an arae, calls them forth- where did they hide all these millennia? What have they been doing? Has someone been calling them forth now, here?; hair of serpents- Is that a reference to their being used by the ancient Atharim?
”I had hoped the girl’s account chould shed light on some of the questions the histories and myths raise concerning these assassins. Whether they were being controlled. If so, how. Had they had a target and why. But she was of little help. And so we must use the information he have and proceed.”
His eyes dropped to the package on his table again, inviting Martin to notice it.
[[Barovsky modded with permission]]