Lemarchand's Legacy

by SarahFish

Chapter 4

The lessons of the Cenobites are many and wise. The first I learned at their hands was that time no longer bore meaning. Minutes...hours...years...in this place, they were all the same. There was no longer a future, nor did I have a past. There was only now, a single moment stretching into infinity.

It was the pin-headed one who taught me this first, most valuable lesson. Though true to my word I did not fight the Cenobites, that did not stop my fear, nor did it stop my screams and cries when their ministrations became too much to bear.

Such was the case during that particular time, when I lay, chained, writhing, body wracked with pleasure...pain...with such sensation I thought I would go mad with it. When it seemed I could no longer bear it, I found his hands in my hair, jerking my head back. Something deep in my neck snapped, and my vision went white.

"You will bear this," he hissed in my ear. "This is your existence now. It is all you are. And you shall endure it."

He was right, of course. Once I realized this, once I let go of the thought of the future, of an end to anything, it became bearable. As long as I could endure this one moment I shall continue.

The second lesson I learned was that pleasure and pain were simply two different faces of the same entity. It is only sensation. It is all one and the same, and I can endure it all.

I realized at one point that there was someone in the cell beside mine. This is strange. I do not recall ever having someone beside me before.

We talk though a crack in the mortar. He says his name is Elliot. I no longer remember my name, but I remember my Lessons, and I whisper them to him in the dark. Sometimes I hear him weeping. I assure him that he will learn soon enough.

"I am changing," he says. My concept of time has been so greatly altered I cannot give any thought to how much has passed since Elliot first came. "I am changing," he whispers again.

My cell opens, and it is the pin-headed cenobite, come for me again. No longer do I cower in fear, instead I rise to meet him, eager, willing.

"I want to understand you," I say, bowing before him. "I want to know you, so I may serve your mission."

Elliot's voice is different. When he speaks, he tries to explain what is happening to him. But like so many things here in the Labyrinth, the changes cannot be put into meaningful words. "There is someone in my head...someone here with me..." he whispers. "I am changing."

I feel it too. Though it is not me I feel changing, not really. More my understanding. I feel as a child seeing the world for the first time. The cenobite comes for me again, and I smile when he lays a hand on my head.

"Soon," he promises. "Soon."

Elliot has gone silent. I know he still lives, as I can hear his movements through the cracks. But he no longer speaks to me. If I could still regret, I would. But I am beyond it...oh God...beyond everything!

Then, finally, I hear him draw breath. Hear his whispered words. "I am...I am...I am become death, destroyer of worlds."

He goes still, and speaks no more.

The door opens, and it is the pin-headed cenobite, come for me again. But he has changed, I think. Gone are his emperor's robes and their deep colors, replaced by a mockery of a priest's cassock, gashes in the chest revealing open wounds. The pins adorning his face and head are no longer jeweled, no longer ornate. There is something else different as well...but I cannot place it.

He carries with him a clay pot and a bundle of cloth. In the dark he strips away my clothes, taking away bleeding and blistered skin with the cloth. It is a strange sensation, and I break it into its individual components. Tearing, stinging, burning, the air very cold against the raw skin. He pulls my hair back, pinning it high atop my head.

I stand bare as he dips his hands into the clay pot, coming out with handfuls of ash. He spreads it over my skin, turning my body dusty gray. I watch, fascinated as the color changes.

Then, he dresses me, unfolding new clothing from the bundle he brought. There are gashes and openings in the fabric, blatantly displaying some of the wounds and scars given me since my arrival. Finished, he steps back for a moment to examine the final product. He nods, seemingly satisfied, then holds out his hand.

"Come," he says. "A task awaits us."

The man lays nude on the altar, his face and head bleeding where each of the pins was pulled from his flesh. They lay beside him, jeweled ends glittering in the candle light. Blood oozes across his body, drawing lines in the ash covering his skin. Robes in black, white, and red lay folded at his feet. Emperor's robes, I think.

I pause, confused. The pin-headed cenobite turns to me.

"I am Xipe Totec," he says, dark eyes cool and emotionless. "I shall always be Xipe Totec. But now I am also Elliot Spenser. Do you understand this?"

Ah, so that is the difference I could not place. It is clear now, that it is a different man before me. Different...but the same...Xipe Totec, as he always was.

"I understand," I reply. "He was new vessel for your being."

I look at the man, bleeding on the altar.

"He is but a dying vessel, waiting to be dispersed," Xipe Totec says, answering the unasked question. I understand, then, what must be done. I follow Xipe Totec to the altar. As we approach, the bleeding man turns his head towards me, and I know him.

It is my father.

I can hear him now, repeating the same word over and over.

"Mercy...mercy...have mercy..."

"Shhh," I whisper, tracing the grid carved into his scalp, the holes where the jeweled pins had laid.

"Mercy..."

Xipe Totec places the knife in my hand. I cut the man's throat, and the word is drowned out by blood. His eyes go wide, then fade as his blood flows over the altar, dripping onto the floor. One last choking breath...and then no more.

I look to Xipe Totec and he nods.

"Well done, good and faithful servant," he says, sweeping up the jeweled pins. From some place in his cassock he removes a vial of liquid, then directs me to kneel.

"I am Xipe Totec," he repeats. "And so shall I always be – but now I am also Elliot Spencer. You, though, are as you always were. And all that you shall be is as you are." He uncaps the vial, and the scent of vanilla fills the room.. He pours the oil over my head. He dips his free hand into the blood pooled on the altar, then traces a pattern on my forehead with it.

"Mercy, I name you," he says. "Blood of our blood, and flesh of our flesh I anoint you, and so shall you be." He takes one of the jeweled pins, placing it between my eyebrows, and with one motion, pushes it in all the way to the jeweled tip. He repeats the process across my forehead, creating a circlet. He stood back. "Stand, Mercy, and join the ranks of the Hierophants, the Theologians of the Order of the Gash."

My eyes meet his, and I smile as I stand.

"Come, he says. You have much work to do," he says, indicating the room with a sweeping gesture. I am aware, then, that it is filled with similar altars, with nude writing bodies, all bleeding, all dusty with ash. Used vessels, prepared to be cast away.

I bow low before my maker. "All these have already been destroyed by you. I am but an instrument of your will, oh Vasa Iniquatatis."

He nods. "I leave you to your work, Mercy."

Turning to survey my domain, I smile. The blades in my hands are heavy, and the halls before me vast. I have an eternity to fulfill my work.

I am Mercy. I am an instrument of the will of the Order of the Gash. And I...I am become death.