The Cathedral In The Void

By L L Watkin

Tommy had never been in jail before. You had to try really hard to get arrested on Natilus, and he’d spent seventeen years there not trying that hard at anything. All he’d seen of Theril so far was the jail, he’d been locked up almost as soon as his shuttle landed. Mind you, being accused of mass murder probably counted as “trying hard” anywhere.

Keldaren had been born on Theril, dragged herself up there, made friends, made money, and lost both. It was beautiful, but she wasn’t sure that it would be home much longer. Regardless of the titles, the money and the designer wardrobe, there were only so many murders, plots and accidents a girl could take before she was forced out of town.

The third book in the Handmaiden series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L L Watkin
• Release date: Mar 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310306273

L L Watkin

LL Watkin is the pen name for writing partnership Liz Smith and Louise Smith, two sisters from the North of England who've been writing together since, well, forever. We write a mixture of short stories and full length novels in the science fiction and fantasy genres, and while some stories may be more Louise's and others more Liz's, all spring from a collaborative process.In summer 2022 we will publish our new four part novel series, The Snowglobe, which is a double-stranded narrative set in a multi-dimensional universe. It concerns a criminal investigation by Divine Law Enforcement (DLE), which aims to locate and arrest a psychotic demi-god, Kaelvan, who is determined to murder a specific human child. Although the plot includes fantastical elements, most often ESP and telekinesis, the settings are all post-industrial societies, some of them more technologically advanced than our own and others steam-punk in feel.

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The Cathedral In The Void

The Handmaiden Book 3

Published by L. L. Watkin at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 L. L. Watkin

From the same author

The Leviathan

Jethabel

Therion

Pathiel

The Handmaiden

The Abbey at the World’s End

The Chapel in the Wasteland

The Cathedral in the Void

Short Stories

The Harpers and Other Stories

The Drowned Leviathan and Other Stories

Copyright © L. L. Watkin 2015

Chapter One

Tommy Jackson had never been in jail before. He wasn’t the sort of boy who caused trouble, or at least, not trouble bad enough to get you jail time on Natilus. It was a convict colony, you had to try really hard to get arrested there, and Tommy had spent seventeen years not trying that hard at anything.

He’d heard stories about small rooms shared with fifty other murderers, about yard exercise with chains around your ankles and armed guards watching for trouble from turrets. Newly arrived convicts spoke of communal showers where wrong things happened, of hard labour and mouldy food. So as jails went, this seemed to be quite a nice one. He had his own room, with a clean bunk and a basic bathroom. There was a window made from some sort of reinforced plastic which was strong enough that it didn’t need bars over it.

He’d spent the first day trying to escape, but it was impossible since he was never allowed out of his room. Every thirty minutes a guard checked in on him through a hatch in the metal door. He’d seen six different guards now and though none of them spoke most of them smiled at him. Once they were sure he hadn’t hurt himself since the last patrol. He thought he was on suicide watch, but he had no intention of hurting himself.

He couldn’t tell whereabouts in the jail he was, or where the exits were. He’d tried to push the guards into telling him, but they were all wearing those charms that protected Tren from his commands. They either didn’t even notice him trying or they hid their fear really well.

And now he was out of time. An Alliance court might have taken a year, or even two with a decent defence lawyer, to build the case against him. It would have been a huge media scrum trial with mass murder, conspiracy and terrorism charges. He’d seen similar event trials on the television back home which had lasted nine months. The Tren obviously did things differently. He’d been arrested six days ago and he went on trial today. The verdict was expected before noon and sentencing was immediate.

He’d tried to brush his hair and neaten up for the occasion but he didn’t have a mirror to check the results. He didn’t have a court suit either, or a lawyer. He’d meet his fate alone, dressed in the plain white t-shirt and trousers he’d been issued on arrival at the jail, and the matching white shoes without laces.

The door hatch opened and the woman guard peeked through. Can you go to the back of the room, please, Tommy? She spoke fairly good common using lots of short simple words. He obeyed her without comment, backing away from the door, which opened to let Captain Bright in.

How are you feeling? He didn’t try common, since he knew that Tommy spoke decent Tren.

Scared, Tommy admitted. The captain was quite young, maybe only thirty, shorter than Tommy, slightly overweight and a bit untidy, but he seemed to be the highest ranking police officer involved in the case. He was wearing a golden sunburst charm pinned to the collar of his uniform to protect him from the push, but he was also the only Tren who’d told Tommy his name, so he’d earned a bit of trust.

Fear’s probably right. The captain surveyed him critically. Nothing to be done for the clothes, or that pale sickly look of yours. Your hair is so short anyhow it’d look military to cut it. At least the bruises have faded, except for that one. He motioned at the scab just above Tommy’s left ear.

The princess left that, two days ago, Tommy explained. She came to take the control chip out. She’d touched his forehead and the blasted thing just fell out into her hand. Brain surgery without scalpels, which hadn’t even hurt. He shuddered. She had to be a witch, to be able to do that. A real Tren witch, not a pretend one like him.

The princess? The captain looked vague.

Pretty woman, not much older than me? Tommy tried. She’s short, blonde and kind of fragile looking? The captain had to know her, the guards had been fawning over her like a celebrity. Tommy had the feeling he’d met her before, but he couldn’t remember where. Maybe he should know her name, though she hadn’t said. A lot of the last year was like that, ever since he’d been taken from home and they’d started pumping drugs into him.

Oh, her, the captain smiled gently. Princess. I’ll tell her that, it’ll make her day. Can you brush your hair forward to cover the scab?

Tommy had just spent five minutes brushing it back, but he changed style obediently, trying to lever his short fringe over to hide it. He wasn’t quite sure why his appearance was so important. There wasn’t much he could do about it. He was a gangly seventeen year old boy with acne, he tried to keep his expectations low.

Good. You’ll do. I have to handcuff you now, so just try to stay calm.

Tommy held his arms out obediently. The chains were more like manacles than the thin Alliance cuffs, with heavy iron clasps. His shoulders drooped under the weight of them.

Well, best foot forward. The captain took his elbow and guided him from the cell. Outside was a balcony-like corridor on the third level of an enclosed courtyard. Below them teams of boys, all wearing white, were playing some kind of ball game. Their laughter echoed up, but Tommy had never heard it from inside the cell. Some of them only looked ten, but most were closer to his own age.

This is a children’s prison? That surprised him. He was accused of some serious crimes, the most serious you could get. He’d expected to be in high security.

Yes, for the under nineteens. Walking along the balcony and through a security checkpoint they passed over into a second courtyard where a group of girls were playing the same game. They were cheating and catcalling just as much as the boys.

Tommy was the only under nineteen on the mission. Andrea was the next youngest of the test subjects and she was nearly thirty. A few of the soldiers might be younger than her, but you had to be eighteen to enlist so once out of basic training most would be too old for this place. No matter how many of the others had survived, he was alone in here. The soldiers and commissariat wouldn’t have helped him anyway, but a few of his fellow lab rats might have offered some advice.

Do you know what I’m charged with? he asked the captain as they climbed down the steps on the far side of the courtyard and waited at a second security point to be let out. He’d been fooling himself to think he’d ever get away, but dreaming of escape was a hard habit to break.

Yes, since I filed the charges. The captain grinned wolfishly at his wince. Murder and witchcraft are the big two.

I’m not a witch.

The court will decide. You’ll struggle to make the argument, since you were caught red-handed siren-calling a riot into existence.

That was Becky, Tommy muttered, hating that he sounded more envious than remorseful. It’s not witchcraft, anyhow, its psionic. He didn’t even know the word for that in Tren, but it was a scientific thing, created in Alliance laboratories. It wasn’t like the Tren’s real witches, who could throw missiles of burning acid or lift skeletons out of their graves to pull you under with them.

The court will decide, the captain repeated firmly, pulling Tommy through security and into a black cart waiting on the other side. It was pulled by horses, which was just weird and disturbing. Now, you see these shutters? Tommy nodded. They open this way. He demonstrated. Leave them shut.

Why show me how to open them, then?

So that you don’t get curious and try them yourself. Sit tight and we’ll be at the court in about forty minutes. He left and locked the door behind him.

Tommy had expected the captain to stay with him. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, they always turned guilty. Abruptly he could see his mam, far away back on Natilus. With any luck the commissariat would be taking care of her, telling her that her son had died a war hero.

Except that he hadn’t. Not yet, anyway. He didn’t want to hang. He was too young to hang. He wanted to think that they couldn’t take children from the children’s prison and then hang them, but he knew they could. He felt sick, and tried not to cry.

He could tell when they left the jail because there was a crowd waiting for them outside. The cart moved slowly, and people shrieked and cursed from all sides as it lurched past them. The captain had been right to warn him not to open the shutters. The heat and darkness was a small price to pay to hide away.

He couldn’t blame them for their anger. The commissariat had planned to kill tens of thousands of them. Tommy didn’t know the details, and he was hazy even on the outline of the plan, but everything he did know he’d told Captain Bright. He’d talked himself hoarse trying to be helpful, to show how sorry he was and how little he could have done to stop it. He’d been kidnapped, drugged and tortured into doing it, even if you couldn’t see the marks anymore since his recovery had been surprisingly quick. And in any case it was mostly Becky’s doing.

Becky had better have gone down with the boat, because otherwise he’d strung a pretty noose for her.

The crowd noise stopped abruptly with a slamming door. They’d reach the courthouse. Tommy’s hands shook uncontrollably. How many had died? He couldn’t remember. They hadn’t been able to swim. The commissariat had known that they couldn’t swim, that was why Becky had been told to summon them out to sea. He remembered climbing over corpses in his desperation to reach the beach. He threw up his breakfast onto the floor of the cart, narrowly missing his white shoes.

I can get you out of this, the woman sat across from him commented conversationally, in common. Tommy was getting used to Tren and he blinked at her stupidly. But you have to do exactly what I tell you.

I didn’t see you there. He’d been sat there for forty minutes and never noticed that he wasn’t alone. He shuffled his feet further away from the vomit, hoping that it hadn’t sounded too bad.

That’s because I just arrived. The woman smiled at him encouragingly. She looked like Miss Bennett, who’d taught him in junior school, with long straight dark hair in a practical ponytail, wide brown eyes and a toothy grin. She was wearing the same plain white clothes as him, the t-shirt tight over her chest. She wasn’t hand-cuffed, and she definitely hadn’t been there before.

Think of me as your lawyer. I’m the only help you’ll get. Tommy nodded vaguely, checking out of the corner of his eye that the only door remained shut. He was hallucinating, that was panic for you.

You’ll be taken up to the court soon. The Handmaiden will be sitting above you in judgement, don’t stare at her. The recorder will read the charges. In Tren. Do you speak Tren, Tommy? He nodded. Good, that makes it easier. There are a lot of charges so it’ll take him some time to read them, but when he’s finished he’ll ask whether you want to give evidence.

I’m guilty. He didn’t believe her that she was a lawyer, or even that she was really there.

No, don’t say that. The woman shook her head irritably, her ponytail bouncing. Kneel down, look straight up at the Handmaiden and tell her that the Goddess has allowed you to offer a lifetime of service as atonement for your sin.

Say what?

You heard me, now repeat it, she frowned. In Tren, if you can, it’s important.

Tommy took a deep breath while he memorised the Tren phrase. The goddess has allowed me to offer a lifetime of service to apologise for my sins.

Atonement, not apology, she corrected.

That’s the same thing.

Don’t get cocky. Your accent is problematic enough without getting the words wrong. The woman vanished while he blinked at her. The door opened immediately and Captain Bright climbed in to unchain him.

How are you doing, Tommy? He was calm and professional.

I was sick, he admitted cautiously, since that was obvious enough. I might be again.

Oh, I don’t think so, the captain pulled him gently to his feet, wrists still chained together, and steered him out of the carriage. Duck your head. I bet you’ve got it out of your system.

The carriage was pulled away by the two giant horses, their shoulders level with Tommy’s head. He tried to stay well clear of them as they passed, but the nearest still jostled in its harness at his smell. Sorry, I can’t help that.

It’s alright, they’ll get used to it.

Tommy hoped they had a chance to. He wanted nothing more than to leave the court the same way he’d arrived. A lifetime in prison would be fine. The prison was nice. He had his own room, clean bed, clean clothes, and fresh food. It was luxurious actually.

The captain led him forward up a long ramp towards a closed wooden door which looked newer then the rest of the building. Police lined both sides of the wide corridor, stern men and women all carrying crossbows and wearing their protective charms. Tommy kept his head high and looked forward. Atonement, the woman had said atonement would get him out of this alive. The vanishing woman.

The door opened into what could only be the dock of the court, a half-height wall of wood stained black but so freshly cut that it still smelled of sap. Beyond it he saw three people sitting on a recently repaired high platform. Tommy hoped that he wasn’t being blamed for the damage. Two of the judges were the witches he’d met previously, the tall thin man wearing chainmail armour and the princess in a gold dress so stiff she looked like a statue. The third was a discreetly placed balding man making notes. The court recorder.

As he stepped forward Tommy felt the pressure of many people stood behind him. The rustling, coughing and whispering of an audience. He didn’t look around. It would only incite them and he didn’t need them howling for his blood.

The recorder was handing a grey card folder across to the princess. She took it and began leafing lazily through the large stack of paper it contained.

State presents evidence that the accused, Tommy Jackson, was responsible for an arson attack on the Abbey at the World’s End eight nights ago, and also responsible for a witch-Influence attack in Seachester city centre six nights ago. These attacks claimed the lives of two thousand and eighteen citizens, named as Colonel Anna Marin, Councillor Trintje Kellar, Councillor Kialla Kellar, Kialla Kellar Junior, Father Gideon Acorn, Father Danan Anders, Doctor Mika Blue …

They were strange Tren names, but it was hard to listen to such a long list of them and think that he’d had anything to do with their deaths. There were some family groups, parents and children all listed together. Tommy remembered the children. The tiny toddler boy whose corpse he’d stood on as he tried to avoid the witch on the shore.

He gagged, doubling over to retch dryly. Nothing came up but his eyes watered furiously. The litany of names continued, beating a guilty tattoo on his skull, mocking his protests that he hadn’t had any choice. He drew a deep breath when the recorder finally finished and forced himself to stop coughing.

The princess continued to review the file for a minute after silence fell. Long enough for Tommy to realise that she was buying him time to recover his senses. She couldn’t wait too long, the crowd wouldn’t let her; people were already stirring impatiently behind him. He pulled himself back upright determinedly and she looked straight at him. Her eyes were the same colour as his mam’s.

Does the accused offer any evidence?

I’m very sorry. His voice was a croak. He wet his lips and tried to swallow as he dropped to his knees in supplication. The Goddess has allowed me to offer a lifetime of service as atonement for my sins.

It was a magic phrase and he’d got it exactly right. The crowd behind him began chattering noisily. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, their language too fast and foreign as they all talked over each other. It was a much larger crowd than he’d first thought, large enough to lynch him regardless of the captain’s steadying presence at his side.

The princess remained calm, because she’d been expecting it. She must be working together with the vanishing woman. She’d probably sent her to give him the code words. She watched him keenly and he felt the same powerful push that she’d hit him with on the beach. It would be hard to ever disobey this woman, but he’d accepted her bargain. He’d been a slave anyway, no one with a chip in their head could think otherwise.

Very well, she said finally, her voice carrying over the whispers of the crowd. This court hereby finds Tommy Jackson guilty of two thousand and eighteen charges of murder. The condemned will be taken from here to Seachester Sea Nymph Cathedral where he will commence a lifetime of service as a Hunter of the Goddess.

He wasn’t going to be executed after all. Tommy felt light headed as Captain Bright led him back down the corridor to his carriage. It was one of two in the below ground waiting area now. The second was still locked up, Tommy couldn’t see who was inside it. He didn’t care. All of the commissariat and their soldiers could go hang.

Captain Bright sat inside the carriage with him as they left. He didn’t loosen the chains and Tommy didn’t ask him to.

You’re not forgiven, so you’d best behave.

Have to. Tommy waved at his head expressively. Scary woman.

The captain nodded in a way that said he disagreed, but he said nothing. He was loyal to her for other reasons, then. Not a love affair either, there was no passion between them.

I’m going to take you straight to the hotel, the captain explained. I’ll lock you in the room. Don’t try to escape. Mal Eddard is the best Hunter in the Theocracy. He will catch you and nothing will save you from the pyre then.

Mal Eddard is the tall alien looking guy? The captain nodded just as Tommy realised that was the wrong question. Did you say pyre?

We burn witches here, boy.

But there are two witches just there, Tommy stared back as if he could see them through the carriage doors.

No, there aren’t. There’s only the Handmaiden Keldaren Amodei and the Hunter Mal Eddard.

They’re not witches? Or princesses, for that matter. Maybe she would laugh when the captain told her, and not be as mad at him.

No.

What’s the difference?

The captain winced. I’m not a theologian. Take that one up with Mal later.

It was subtle, then. Maybe non-existent or maybe allegiance based. Like our soldiers are heroes and the other guys are dogs. There was nothing in that which could help him.

Either there were fewer people in this direction or they already knew the verdict and it was making them quiet. They were driving over cobblestones which jarred the carriage wheels, but otherwise it was peaceful. It was nice to be able to relax enough to just listen. He hadn’t relaxed since he’d been taken from Natilus.

When they stopped the captain hustled him into the building through a sparklingly clean kitchen, past a series of luxury conference rooms and up two flights of marble stairs. The ovens seemed to work themselves and small ankle high robots whizzed past them carrying piles of towels and bed sheets, clean going up, dirty going down. They only passed two people and they were both guards.

The room they finally reached was larger than his mam’s flat. His sneaker clad feet sank into the woven floor covering as he spun in a circle, wide eyed. There was a bed large enough for three adults and with enough pillows for six, two large armchairs, another chair, and three tables of various heights, wide cupboards and a huge television. A door led to a private bathroom. The tall windows overlooked a large public square with a central fountain carved like a mermaid facing away from a huge stone building which had to be the cathedral.

So, the captain interrupted his slack jawed gaping. This is your new home.

I get a room-mate?

No, just you.

Wow. He could do anything with space like this. Throw a party. Invite a pretty girl over. The captain was watching him in some amusement.

The Handmaiden and the Hunter are both on this floor as well, so don’t get too ambitious.

Yes, sir.

Enjoy the view. With that last cryptic comment the captain locked himself out.

Tommy spent the next two hours scrubbing himself clean under the power shower, playing with his new television, bouncing on the bed, and watching Tren passing by in the square outside. They almost all wore green or yellow, like enforced support for the military. There were no cars, but plenty of horses and horse drawn carts.

Two more prison carriages crossed the courtyard as he waited, carrying other reprieved convicts on their way to the hotel. They were put next door and two doors down from him. Neither spoke so he couldn’t tell who they were, though his neighbour’s first act was to shower, so it definitely wasn’t David.

As darkness fell the captain’s final words became clear. A figure emerged from the opposite side of the public square and ran full tilt across it, tripping into the fountain. The water didn’t shift as the man non-splashed through it, climbed out the other side and kept running. He vanished out of sight and the cathedral bell tolled once, mournfully.

Almost immediately a second and third person came into view, holding hands as they ran. They were closer and Tommy could see clearly through them both. The woman stumbled and the man pulled her onwards towards the sea. The bell rang twice as they fled. The sound chased Tommy away from the window to the wide, soft bed, where he curled fully clothed under the unfamiliar covers pretending that he couldn’t hear it.

Ghosts. To add to the witches, skeletons and vanishing girls. Tren was a strange place. Tommy had always been a strange boy though, and he could push people, which was a kind of magic itself and had to be some defence. He was a survivor, and he’d survive this too.

The bell rang eighty four times.

Chapter 2

Keldaren tried not to fidget as a team of three priestesses circled around her. She raised her arms whenever they wanted to drape a new layer of robes over them, breathed in when they tightened corsets, strained her eyes open when they applied make up, kept a blank face when they scraped her hair tightly back. It wasn’t their fault that the dark mourning dress was so complicated, tight and heavy.

Standing behind her