A Promotion and a Victory

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Five: The Best Laid Plans

A Promotion and a Victory

* * *

The trip to the Evanescents was absent event, but present dread. Abram and the Elects travelled the distance in almost complete silence, each of them pondering the likely dissolution of the Order of Hermes, a society that pre-dated humanity. That they should be its final custodians horrified Abram more than he could reckon.

The problem they faced could not even be determined. Abram was taught, eventually, that the greatest threat to the Order was the Meraculus Mercurius. He’d never known why, until the revelations of the last few hours. The souls of the Silvergrey Sea and the Evanescents had been involved in the Manifestation that had given the Multiverse the first Templars. Why, though? And why had it started again after so long? The stillness of the Elects and the slackness of their expressions terrified him more than any answer would have.

Abram reassessed that evaluation when their ship came within hailing distance of the closest island.

At first, he thought it a welcoming committee of sorts, there to prevent any attempt to interrupt their summit.

Then he noticed the utter stillness.

So did his companions.

It said something for Abram’s state of mind that he didn’t notice the mountain of ice that was barely a mile from the group until after. “What is that?”

“Primal Matter distilled from the stuff of the Silvergrey Sea,” Red.

Abram turned to the Kokkinos, “To be used for the Manifestation?”

The two Elects shared a glance.

White, “Yes.”

“By whom?” Abram had a sinking feeling he knew.

“The god who gave birth to the Ten Kings.”

Poseidon. “The Meraculus Mercurius couldn’t have been working with the Sea God, surely.”

“No. But they wouldn’t have been aware of the danger, either.”

Red, “The Mercurius was.”

White, “Yes. That is something we must address with her.” The Albedo’s tone boded no good for one whom Abram was suddenly sure was no longer the Outer Head of the Order.

Red, “The M.M.’s interest was only ever in the souls and the wisdom they were thought to possess. It’s possible that some were in thrall to Poseidon, but the leadership has always been about gaining knowledge by these forbidden means.” Again, left hanging was the puzzle of the Mercurius, who must have been aware of the danger and either chose to ignore it or was actively working for the revival of the Pleroma. The latter possibility was the most terrifying of all. No one wanted an open conflict with the Sea God.

“So, the Meraculus Mercurius didn’t know about the origins of the Templars, either.” It wasn’t a question. The habitual secrecy of the Order had come back to bite its leadership on the ass. The Albedo merely nodded. Abram sighed. “And we have a god to contend with.” Another nod. “How?”

Red, “Once Poseidon has been awakened; there is no way to hasten a renewed slumber. Destroying this Working before it wakes him is the only option left to us.”

“Won’t his surrogates try to prevent that?”

“Undoubtedly, but they are limited as to what they can do. They will not be able to call on his help.”

“Why not?”

“Poseidon cannot leave the element of the Sea itself.”

I was beginning to understand. “We must destroy that.” I pointed at the crystalline mountain.

“Yes.”

“Will our brethren help?”

“I think we can convince them of the wisdom of that course. By now they know they’ve been used and must realize their only chance at redemption depends on helping wreck the Sea God’s plan.”

“What’s our plan?” I asked.

“Waking the dead, to begin.”

It would prove a harder task than Abram hoped.

* * *

As their ship approached the shore, the predicament of the members Meraculus Mercurius became tragically apparent. Their still, standing bodies glittered in the bright, sourceless light of the Sea. They’d been suspended in the same stuff of which the mountain was made.

The boat docked, they debarked and walked up to the group. Abram recognized the Mercurius by her blue uniform almost immediately. She was standing, staring in the distance, possibly at something that had been there when she’d arrived. Momentarily, he wondered what it might have been. Visions of the Sea God dove through his mind, scattering his hopes like frightened starlings. “How are we to free them?”

Red, “A little heat should do it.” So saying, the Red Elect placed the glowing rod of his office against the trunk of the blue-clothed one. Abram felt the warmth of it. The Primal Matter evanesced in blue and green.

The Mercurius blinked several times before her eyes focussed on the trio. She screamed and began to shudder; not as if she were shaking, but as if being shaken very rapidly. Abram heard the snapping of bones. As one, the trio projected Stilling on her. The influence of—whatever it had been—faded quickly. She collapsed. They caught her and lowered her gently to the deep indigo of the craggy isle.

The Albedo stripped her coat, shirt and leggings from her, exposing skin already beginning to purple in many places “Gods! She has dozens of fractures,” he said.

“Can you heal her?” the Kokkinos asked.

Running his hands over her, just a hair from touching her flesh, the White Elect said, “I think…yes. I can heal this. It will not be quick, though.” Before he could begin, a change in the Mercurius’s skin—a sort of stiffening as the flesh itself slowly turned white—overtook her, starting from her ankles. Abram could hear a sizzling. Carefully, the Albedo lay his hands on the terminator, as it passed beneath his outspread fingers, he shouted and jerked it away. “It’s hot.” He looked up at the other two. “Help me, quickly!”

Abram knelt at her head, the Kokkinos opposite the Albedo. Abram’s hands were rapidly at their task. The flesh seared by whatever-it-was was infused with a kind of energy that the junior-most Hermetist had never encountered before. The influence of the Primal Matter, it must have been. The flesh ensnared was undamaged, just stiff like stone. Abram concentrated on pushing it out.

He wasn’t the best healer but with the Elects working with him they managed to clear her body in only a few minutes. As soon as they had pushed the last of it from her toes, the mending of bones began. They’d barely started when the whiteness began creeping back. Abram concentrated on holding it at bay, while the two senior Hermetists continued the mending of their former superior.

It took over an hour to finish. Near the end, the Albedo awakened the Mercurius and, with her conscious assistance, finally rid her body of the petrifying influence of the Primal Matter.

“Thank you,” she said. It took two of them to help her to her feet. They’d been able to heal much of the bruising, but some of the deeper ones remained. She’d be sore for days, yet.

As she dressed, the questions began.

“What happens now?” the Mercurius asked, wincing as she slid her breeches up.

“The matter of discipline will have to wait, I think,” Red.

She seemed surprised.

“There are matters of more import to deal with first.” The Red Elect waved toward the frozen brethren.

The Mercurius took them in; then glanced at the crystal mountain.

“Yes, that, too.”

“You knew why searching in the Silvergrey Sea was proscribed, Helen,” the Albedo said. “Did you really think you could avoid this outcome?”

The Mercurius had the grace to look chastened. “I never really believed the story. There is no record of such in the archives.”

“You convinced yourself that it was safe. There is an excellent reason for omitting the birth of the Templars from the archives, as a few seconds thought would have revealed.”

She only nodded.

“Did the M. M. die out? Was it revived? If so, by whom?”

“It never died out. I still feel the risk is worth it. We possess knowledge that would otherwise be unattainable.”

Red, “Thus have the wicked ever excused necromancy. There is nothing the dead neglect to leave behind that is in the least wise to try to recover. The Wise know best when some bit of information is better lost. Any ‘wisdom’ that you have gained is bound to be too dangerous to use. I can see that you are unconvinced. No matter. When the time comes, the Meraculus Mercurius will be rendered extinct, properly this time; if there is an Order of Hermes left, that is.”

“What do you need from me?”

“You will surrender the Staff of Hermes at once. It will be held by another Pro Tem until this crisis is over.”

Abram suddenly had a sickening in his gut. The Kokkinos and the Albedo turned to him. “Will you accept this burden, Brother Abram?” they asked as one.

What could he say. “Yes.” With great solemnity, the former head of the Order of Hermes presented the tri-coloured crystal Rod of Office to Abram Hermit. It felt cold, cold in his hands. He looked up to faces blurred by his tears. The Kokkinos briefly clasped Abram’s upper arm as the latter got hold of himself.

“First things first.” The Mercurius Pro Tem surveyed the monolithic Hermetists. “Let’s free our people.” Abram didn’t feel like he was in charge of anything but knew what had to be done. He hoped the feeling of being an imposter would pass.

Abram lost track of the time it took to free them all. The Hermetists learned the hard way that the stasis affected each one differently. Consequently, the treatment had to differ. With each body freed, there was one more to help. Eventually, they were able to divide into teams, which sped things up considerably. Abram felt lucky to lose only two of the ninety-six afflicted.

Once freed, most took in the change of their circumstances well. They knew they’d been discovered and expected the worst. When told punishment would have to wait to see if there’d even be an Order to enforce any discipline, they reacted as if reprieved. The new Mercurius knew that attitude wouldn’t last, so he planned on using their enthusiasm for cooperation while it burned hot.

Abram gathered them together facing the mountain of Primal Matter and let them just stare at it, getting a feel for the menace all faced, while he tried to figure out what the hell they were going to do about it. The Rod of Office was a dead weight in his hands.

He sensed rather than saw the arrival of the Elects to either side. “So, what do we do now?”

“As, Mercurius, the decision is yours,” Red.

“As yours is to advise me.”

“And to correct you, if we feel you need it.”

“Well…I’m trying to think of any course of action apart from the obvious. Any other options?”

“No.”

“No.”

I nodded. “I thought not. So, we bring it down.”

A moment while the ruling body of the Order of Hermes shared the horror of it.

Another while the Mercurius waited for something from either.

Finally, Abram thought, ‘fuck it,’  borrowing one of Harry’s favourite phrases. “I want to know everything you know.” He turned to his left, met the eye of the Kokkinos, and inclined his head toward out problem.

“It might not be the best course—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Just tell me. Now.”

So, they told their superior. It took awhile.

“Is Poseidon, hostile? Was the creation of the Templars an intentional act?”

White, “We honestly do not know the answer to the first question.”

Red, “The second question is likely the wrong one. Whatever their origins and purpose may have been, they do not think as Greater Humanity does.”

“It seems driven to make the Templars. Has it done this more than once?”

“There have been four attempts previous to this one, only one successful.”

“The one some Hermetists of the time aided.”

“We learned from that mistake.”

“If mistake it was,” White.

Abram sensed a resurgence of an old argument. Turning to the Albedo, “What would be an argument in favour of allowing Homo Vadit to re-emerge?”

“They are more evolved than we. Maybe it is time to step aside, rather than hinder the next stage in Greater Humanity’s advance.”

“That would mean our extinction. And let’s not forget the bloody mess they caused the last time,” Red.

“Perhaps you forget the early history of humanity—one bloody conflict after another. How many worlds were left sterile before the Pax Magna?”

“So, we should allow them to cut a swathe through what’s left of the Pleroma while they figure out that peace is the better option? How many more worlds are you prepared to watch them burn? How many more species wiped out—?”

“Enough. This is an argument for another day, my Elects. The immediate concern must be the preservation of what life there is.”

“There’s no safe way to do what you’re proposing,” White.

“Not to mention it may not work,” Red.

“I did ask for alternatives, gentlemen. Is there another way of stopping this Working? Perhaps after the Elements arrive?”

“No,” Kokkinos. “After the Elements get here, no one will be spared death. It is not possible to withstand the presence of all of them together, should they decide we’re worth paying attention to.”

Abram had known that. He needed to make them aware of the desperation of their position. “Then let us begin.”

None of the former Meraculus Mercurii looked eager anymore. They did seem prepared to act, though most expected to pay with their lives. They’d not be disappointed there, at least. The Mercurius Pro Tem thought the chances of success remote. A little incentive was in order.

Abram turned to the group. “You all know what’s expected of you. Climb that mountain and direct Light energy into it, then get off and as far away as you can as quickly as you can. As acting head of the Order, I hereby declare that all who survive will be granted full pardons for all criminal activities connected to the outlawed Meraculus Mercurius. In addition, their records will be expunged. However, no record of your deeds today will be recorded. You will be given a clean slate.”

He took a moment to let that sink in. There was very little grumbling, though the Kokkinos looked at his superior askance. The latter ignored him.

The Hermetists formed up, with he three heads out front, and marched to their date with destruction. Distances and dimensions had ever been difficult to assess in the Silvergrey Sea, so it shouldn’t have been surprising find that, as the distance slowly diminished, the heap of Primal Matter confronting proved to be larger than any mountain Abram had ever seen or heard of. He privately questioned the wisdom of his plan but still could not think of a better. They might have to do their best to undermine the structure from the base, as it might be too big a task to get anyone close to the top before they ran out of time.

It rose—a pale pink, fractured glass cone— straight from the deep indigo of the native rock of the island.

After more than an hour, the leaders of the Order of Hermes at last reached the sheer slope of the mountain. The new Mercurius put his hand out, expecting to be lacerated by the material, and was surprised to find it mildly pliable—and warm.

Around them, the other Hermetists were quickly fanning out and beginning their climb, using basic spellcraft to speed themselves up and out. Like leaping frogs, they looked. A singing came from the stone as boots pushed and fists gripped it. Abram could see lights within the transparent mass flickering in time to the impacts of his fellows.

As prearranged, the Elects and Abram moved to form a cordon around the mountain, each one-hundred twenty degrees from the other. It needed magickal help to get the handful of brothers and sisters to complete the cordon of so vast a mountain quickly.

Before Abram had reached his assigned position, the resonances from the blows of energy directed by the former M. M. Hermetists into the mountain began to have their effect.

The mountain had appeared opaque, like it was made of regular ice that had formed the usual way. The energy being directed into it caused the flashes of light to appear more deeply in the structure. These white bursts illuminated fissures in the Primal Matter. Starbursts of fractures and cleavage planes lit up like a multidimensional spider’s web with each infusion of raw energy. The crystal also began to sing pure, sweet notes—a chorus of divine chimes.

Abram realized the mountain contained several nodes—the centers from which the light bursts originated. The apparent ability of the mountain to absorb the energies being fed into it caused him to doubt his plan. It was beginning to look like the Hermetists lacked the power to bring this thing down.

He needn’t have worried.

Once the Elects and the Mercurius were in place, the trio pushed out ribbons of energy that linked and formed a ring that held the line against energy leakage from the hammer blows of their fellows.

The tones began to change, becoming more discordant. The flashing spider webs of light began to shudder spastically when they appeared. Parts of them refused to fade and he could see the cracks widening.

Abram began to feel vibrations in the air and in the circle of power that was reflecting the energy coming from above into the structure. Initially, he was sure it was part of the disintegration of the mountain of Primal Matter.

The truth was far grimmer.

A cry from above. Then another.

Abram looked up. Several Hermetists were pointing Seaward.

He turned.

The Silvergrey Sea was rising; whether in response to their efforts or because of some other event, he could not tell. The Mercurius sent a mental signal to keep up the work. No matter the cost to themselves, the Order owed it to the trillions in the Thirty Aions to try to prevent the advent of another Shining Empire.

It turned out to be worse than Abram imagined. The author of the plan to return Templars to the Multiverse was putting in a personal appearance to express his displeasure.

The Sea rose in one place higher than the others. Abram had the silly notion that it would be something anthropomorphic. What appeared when the Sea finished dripping off was much like the web hidden in the mountain. It was made of light; light so bright he could not look at it for more than a second or two at a time. Abram could see it reflecting off the waves.

A sudden epiphany—Abram was looking at the source of the blinding light on the wave crests of the Silvergrey Sea.

This being wasn’t literally any god, much less the sea god of an ancient Oerth culture. The name was traditional. What it really was was a source of speculation in the Order to the present day. It was alive and it was intimately connected to the Silvergrey Sea.

It was obviously a living thing. Just as obvious was its desire in this matter.

No matter the cost, it had to be stopped.

Unfortunately, now that it was here, Abram couldn’t think of any way we could possibly defeat it. To his shame, his thoughts were only of escape.

“Hold the line!” This from the Red Elect. The way it slid into his mind disguised as one of his own thoughts meant it must have gone out to all the Hermetists. Good man. He was keeping his head.

Abram realized many of them were going to die. It would take time for even this mammoth being to stop enough of the Hermetists to save this solid chunk of energy. If the Hermetists could hold long enough, there would be no source for Poseidon’s Working.

The web of shining Water expanded and began to move toward the crystal mountain.

The working of the Mercurius’s fellows high up the mountain became more frenetic. The ringing and the flashing lights in the massive structure began to increase. It looked like a spastic strobe light in there. After a few seconds, Abram realized the efforts of the Hermetists couldn’t account for all the light and sound. They’d weakened the mountain to the point where its dissolution might be self-sustaining.

Abram called out mentally, “Hold.”

Despite their increasing desperation, most obeyed.

Just as he had thought, the internal crumbling continued. Their work was done.

“Break and retreat.”

Abram broke the link to the Elects and moved back toward the place where they had landed. The rest followed.

Glancing back, he saw Poseidon was almost over the Primal Matter, now. More than two score Hermetists were already on the ground and running in the right direction. The rest were taking massive leaps, relying on magickly augmented strength to save them from injury.

The ringing had become a clashing of cymbals and chains. The mountain was shaking enough to be noticeable even from where he was. Many of his brethren were still climbing down. The Mercurius saw some sliding, whether deliberately, or from having lost their footing, he couldn’t say.

Something began to appear in the air to the right of the Primal Matter. Abram thought it a counter stroke of Poseidon.

It couldn’t have been, for what was forming was a Portal. The Elements—had to be. Whether this was a bad thing or not depended on how long it took the crystal mountain to collapse. No doubt they would try to prevent it.

They never got the chance.

The Primal Matter exploded.

Abram was picked up by the shockwave and hurled away.

He lost consciousness as he landed. Hoping it was not death, Abram also hoped they’d managed to stop the Sea God’s plan.

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, September 2026

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