Chapter 134: Abgott

Chapter 134: Abgott

The phenomena of the transformation of deities into demons meet the student of Demonology at every step. We shall have to consider many examples of a kind similar to those which have been mentioned in the preceding chapter; but it is necessary to present at this stage of our inquiry a sufficient number of examples to establish the fact that in every country forces have been at work to degrade the primitive gods into types of evil, as preliminary to a consideration of the nature of those forces.Ñøv€lRapture marked the initial hosting of this chapter on Ñôv€lß¡n.

We find the history of the phenomena suggested in the German word for idol, Abgott—ex-god. Then we have ‘pagan,’ villager, and ‘heathen,’ of the heath, denoting those who stood by their old gods after others had transferred their faith to the new. These words bring us to consider the influence upon religious conceptions of the struggles which have occurred between races and nations, and consequently between their religions. It must be borne in mind that by the time any tribes had gathered to the consistency of a nation, one of the strongest forces of its coherence would be its priesthood.

So soon as it became a general belief that there were in the universe good and evil Powers, there must arise a popular demand for the means of obtaining their favour; and this demand has never failed to obtain a supply of priesthoods claiming to bind or influence the præternatural beings. These priesthoods represent the strongest motives and fears of a people, and they were gradually intrenched in great institutions involving powerful interests.

-Conway, Moncure Daniel, Demonology and Devil-lore (1879, 2nd Era)

“So many books...” Enide muttered as the group stalked down one of the infinite library pathways. The vast labyrinth went on and on without any end. Every so often, Boldwick would stop them. Then, hurriedly, they would stoop to mark the ground with chalk. Thankfully, hastily scribbled marks weren’t their only way home. Erec had a live map constructed by VAL as they walked. If he had to bet, the two senior Knights likely had their own form of automatic mapping software.

When it came to exploring a different world, every safety measure was important.

“Remember not to touch anything. So say our Armored guides. What a pity. Think of how much the Magi might pay to get information about this place,” Rochester shook his head.

“You intend to sell the location of the vault to them?” Boldwick asked.

“I didn’t intend to. Though I don’t find the idea very appealing, as long as we get their aid by turning in Seven-Snakes, we thankfully don’t have to consider it. If they did find out, there’s no doubt in my mind they’d exploit it.” Rochester shrugged, “Still, selling it to them or not doesn’t remove my temptation to page through some of them, whether or not I can read it aside.”

“Focus on the mission. We both know that. It’s better to interact with other worlds as little as possible; unless it becomes vital, it’s unnecessary. As badly as we may want to.” Boldwick stood up, a new mark on the ground. There was another torn book not too far from it, one of the signs left behind by Seven-Snakes. He’d set his method of backtracking by ripping apart books. They didn’t care to operate on the same rules as the Knight, but just how far did they plan to travel into this world?

Tension ran high, despite the conversation. To Erec, this place always shifted and moved in the corner of his vision. But it was primarily books rattling around, waiting for the humans to walk past before moving. These things had minds of their own.

But it felt like there was more than that going on. This place lived, thought, and watched; there was a weight to walking through these massive bookshelves as if the shadows followed them. Lurking and curious about the people now roaming its infinite halls.

From what they’d seen, there was nothing besides books and shelves. No walls, no sky. There were floating lights far above—the only ‘natural’ light source in this place. The movements of the flying candles appeared random at first. Then, as one paid attention, a pattern emerged. Candles grouped and flowed between the shelves in small rivers; if there wasn’t a constant stream of them, they tended to stick to groups. Now and then, he spotted a solo candle; when they were alone, they burned bright, almost like they were calling into the shadows for their own.

When there was only a pair, but two of them, they burned the brightest. Two candles would circle one another as they passed through the world alone, trapped in one another’s orbit.

The first time he saw it, Erec felt a weird chord in his heart: they seemed to defy the oppressive darkness all around, with no care for anything other than themselves—content with one another. Even if shadows owned everything around them, their light only flared more.

“...Is that a swarm of books?” Colin asked, pointing through a gap in the bookshelf.

That snapped everyone into focus; they arranged themselves to peer through the space left on the shelf. It didn’t take long to spot it. A flood of books was fluttering in a vortex of chaos and mayhem. The sound of their ruffling pages was deafening.

Erec stepped back, pulling a hatchet free.

The flood crested through whatever gaps they could find, flying around the Knights in a swarm. His axe went clean through the spine of a book—but none of them were attacking.

After killing two, he stopped himself, bewildered.

On their second visit, the script had morphed into their language.

***

Men died from lack of me; through books, I travel through time, my ideas will grip mortal minds. My existence is a curse and a boon; though ye may deny my use, I am inevitable. Death is the only escape.

Speak my name, and ye may enter.

***

“A riddle? Is this good or bad?” Garin turned to the rest of them.

“I don’t like how it shifted its language nor the contents of this riddle, but the instructions are clear. We puzzle it out, and the entrance will appear.” Boldwick sighed. “Any guesses?”

“Innovation,” Rochester said, flaring his hands out as if he expected something to happen. Everyone tensed, but yet the only response was silence and stillness.

“Courage,” Enide tried, tilting her head. Nothing.

“How in the name of the Goddess could Courage be the answer?” Colin shook his head.

“Never heard a story about a hero? My mother used to read them to me; sitting still in one place too long gets you killed, and you need the courage to move...” She stopped herself. “Why the fuck am I justifying myself to you anyway? Eat sand,” she turned and crossed her arm.

“Typical wastelander, so crass and inept. This is why you needed the nobility of the Knights to attend this expedition, or else you’d be doomed.” Colin shook his head.

“Don’t see you trying. As if you know the answer. It’s a riddle, and I doubt someone as stuck up his ass as you can figure it out.” Enide shot back.

“You’re incorrect. The answer is Knowledge.”

At the utterance of the word, a loud rumbling began in front of them, the brickwork of the building they faced folded in on itself, twisting and levitating as it broke apart to reform into a doorway. Inside was an intense blue light, opening into a large hall.

Everyone slowly turned to Colin, who Erec knew must’ve had the biggest smug smile on his face underneath that helmet. Erec winced; having Colin get one over on you never felt good.

“Behold, filthy wastelander. This is the power of knowledge.”

“No one likes a smartass,” Enide said, for lack of anything else.

“Do you wish for a spar? Perhaps it's time to teach you how far you fall compared to your betters. Your status will never be my equal, regardless of your pitiful attempts to cozy up to a Count and marry into nobility.”

“Bring it, asshole!” Enide snarled, stepping toward him with clenched fists.