Hope's Light
Chapter 9
by Erisian
Book 6
Chapter Nine - Instincts
It had been less than a sleep’s turn since I’d arrived in Hell, and already I’d witnessed three murders. Four, if including Pierre’s self-sacrificing suicide. Technically they were already dead to begin with, but once reduced to a compact stone that was it for their spirits. From everything I’d been told, that was the last one-way trip a soul could take.
Short of jumping into the Abyss, anyway.
The men around us remained silent as Santiago knelt to wipe the knife clean on the corpse’s pants. When he stood - and therefore again faced those surrounding us - I then dropped to a knee, looking over the body.
“What are you doing?”
Pulling up the doubly-dead man’s shirt, the machete bit into the stomach cavity, rather messily scooping out that which was all that remained of his spirit. The glow was weak, but there it was: an angry and smoldering reddish stone. “Gathering another light. We shouldn’t leave any souls behind.”
After wiping off the machete I stood, taking the measure of the rest of this cursed crew. A few were shocked at how casually I’d just disemboweled the body, but one thing was certain: all traces of lustful intentions were gone.
For now.
A slender man, grey loops tightly packed upon a head that had once seen too much sun, directed a question at Santiago. “Why protect the girl?”
“She is the only one with experience and knowledge.”
“Then she’s not newly arrived.” A fresh tension spread among the rest at the unspoken implication.
Santiago looked to me. “I, too, would like to hear an explanation.”
With blade in one hand and soul in the other, I faced off with him. “Does it really matter?”
He touched the butt of one of the pistols at his waist. “Our guns have been turned off. Could this also be a part of their test?”
“No. It’s payback.”
That genuinely confused him. “For what?”
“This.” Tossing the soul to Santiago who adeptly caught it, with teeth I then tugged a glove free. I wasn’t about to put down my weapon. Holding out the freed hand, a new light cast fresh shadows across the rooftop as the mark became visible.
Everyone except Santiago took a number of steps back, recoiling from the glow. He, however, merely pointed knife at the hand. “Magic?”
“It’s an owner’s mark. A demon guard tried to get too friendly before I even got on the truck after the boat. Instead of killing him, I bound him to me - he now carries my brand. They imprisoned him too, but apparently he has friends.”
“Ah. So they wish to take you down. This greatly increases the difficulty of the mission.”
From the crowd someone whispered, “Witch!” One even started crossing himself, but embarrassedly caught the motion before it completed.
Holding the machete under an armpit, I quickly put the glove back on and glowered at them all. “Yeah, I’m a witch. Deal with it. And Santiago is right, I’m probably the only one here who has fought demons before. But this whole ‘Harrowing’ thing is supposed to reveal who among us are survivors, it’s not meant to be a destructive test. I got that much out of demonic handsy-boy before they hauled his ass away.”
“You demanded blades instead of guns,” said Santiago, eyes still as hard as the soulstone in his hand. “Did you know that they would do this?”
I shrugged. “Not specifically. I just don’t trust demons.”
“They have not yet attacked us. You would be their first target?”
“Probably.”
“I see. Should we simply kill you, would the guns be re-enabled?”
I fought the desire to glance at his knife. “Think you can?” My gloved hand re-grasped the hilt of the machete, and to emphasize the question electric sparks flowed across the blade. My boots shifted stance and I waited to see what he’d do.
The crowd’s focus bounced between the two of us as everyone went deathly still.
However, after measured consideration, Santiago merely inclined his head. “Not with you so aware and ready.” He put the knife back in its sheath.
I slowly exhaled. “So now what?”
He began untying the ropes still wrapped around him, and the ends quickly dropped to the rooftop. Their obvious hindrance in a knife fight may have influenced that decision, but his aura remained calm. “You and I should converse privately.” Tugging on the strands twice, the guys still above us (and probably wondering just what the heck was going on) starting pulling them back up. “Let us go downstairs.”
Grey-haired guy objected. “Hey, we all want to hear what she says!”
Santiago gave him an inscrutable look. “No. You do not. Should she reveal anything the jailers would consider a threat, they shall slaughter all who heard of it.”
“You don’t know that!”
“It is precisely what I would do.”
That shut the guy up. The crowd parted and only Santiago and I went down the dark stairs. He used the burning red soul as our lamp, revealing the top floor of the building as having been a house - one in which everything inside had burnt to a crisp. The stone walls, that same blackened obsidian that the towers far above were constructed from, had survived - but that’s all.
I followed him and our boots crunched through the charred furniture that remained, sending the scent of musty charcoal through protesting sinuses.
When we were far enough away from anyone else, I stopped. “Alright, what’s up?”
He didn’t turn around. “Is it possible to escape the jailers?”
Shit. “I…dammit. Look, Hell itself is designed to be a prison for souls. If you’re unmarked and wandering around like you are now? You’d have no protection from being snatched up by anyone stronger than you.”
“Can one hide?”
“Where? And we still get hungry. It takes an awfully lot longer to starve into a stone, but eventually it’ll happen. Painfully, once someone’s given up.”
“Yet you appear to have a plan.”
“What the heck makes you say that?”
“Perhaps instinct. But you…you have been running an operation since before getting on the truck.”
I wanted to deny it, but crap. “You’re scarily observant.”
“As are you, when you wish to be. Precisely what game are you pursuing?”
I did something I hadn’t done in awhile. I chewed on a lip. “Can you accept that I can’t tell you everything?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ve heard of a group on this realm that’s somehow been grabbing new souls before they’re sold. Promising freedom of sorts. But they could just be a crazy cult.”
“Say more.”
“I’ve done what I can to attract their attention as a potential recruit.”
“Why? The implication during the intake interview was that souls with solid skills may gain positions of relative security. Why not aim for those?”
“The cult may be able to find folks that I know came here. Friends of mine, skilled ones. They may even be part of it somehow.”
He paused, his face more shadow than illuminated. “Why admit such to me? Even knowing this little, it would be in my interest to betray you to the jailers for concessions.”
“They wouldn’t give you a strict enough contract to guarantee anything once you divulged it. You seriously don’t have any leverage for negotiations. Think about it: how many street informants have you burned once you got what you needed from them?” The last was an educated guess - I hadn’t tried to scan him for his past, and he certainly wasn’t broadcasting.
The supposition though earned a wry smile, the first of genuine humor I’d seen from him. “Would this cult find me of interest as well?”
“Prove yourself a skilled operator and maybe. Unless of course they decide you’re too scary to bring aboard.” I returned a tired smile of my own.
“Interesting. What then is our best play from here?”
“The way I see it, to test us properly there’s probably two assaults planned. One either on the way to the castle or in it, and the other on the way back. Maybe even multiple waves.”
“Can we accomplish our objective through stealth?”
I thought about it, then shook my head. “Not really. They’ll have scanners to detect souls. Though we may get bonus points for the attempt.”
“For the ones aiming for you, how many of us would be accepted as collateral damage?”
“Realistically? As many as needed. All authorized by their mother. She’s the one in charge.” I wanted to kick the wall, but didn’t. “Alright, how about I go by myself? Grab the photos or whatever with their orb and skedaddle.”
“And when they decide to attack?”
“I deal with it.”
“You are rather confident in your abilities.”
“Yup. The guards are low level demons, two souls at most apiece. No problem.”
“These men with us will not easily let you take the orb.”
“Think you can convince them?”
“No. Which is why I shall hold onto it and accompany you.”
“Isn’t that riskier?”
“Those same instincts whisper that I am safer with you.”
All things considered that was hard to argue against.
Santiago wasn’t entirely successful getting the team (if you could call it that) on board with the plan. As a result Mr. Greyhair (who said to call him ‘Jones’) also tagged along, after handing over the freshly acquired soul stone to those left behind. They could use its light to examine their navels or whatever while they waited - the glow wasn’t strong enough for much else. Though maybe they’d find enlightenment anyway.
Nah.
Before stepping out onto the street, we worked out the planned route in more detail. Santiago, much to my non-surprise, had clearly performed ops in a city setting before - he was better at pointing out lines of sight and alternate ways to navigate the city than I’d thought of. He still had the backpack with the third rope, hook, and the small crossbow needed to launch it - something he’d had to insist upon rather forcefully as the crew had wanted to hold more items to force our return.
Well, not forcefully enough that I’d needed to carve new stones out of their flesh or anything. Just a semi-heated discussion and a few implied non-consensual leaps from the roof-top.
Therefore the three of us crept from long shadow to long shadow as we hugged one stone wall after another. A drafty wind blew through the town, one which kept switching between being annoyingly hot and almost refreshingly merely warm. It was disgustingly humid however, whatever moisture was trapped in here had been so for a long time as told by the overwhelming musty scent of surrounding mold - which made me wonder how much worse the moat was going to stink when we got closer. Some of the structures had also collapsed into rubble. These we went out of our way to avoid as the distant glow from the castle was insufficient to let us see what debris had landed on the streets. Why risk breaking our necks with a simple fall when we had demons waiting to do it for us?
The contents of each structure were all similarly burned. It was as if the fires from the unreachable skies above had somehow swept through this place long ago. Which would have been a neat trick considering it appeared to be a fully-enclosed underground cavern.
Maybe that’s exactly what had happened though.
What kept bugging me was that even with quick peeks of my own when I thought I could get away with it, I didn’t sense anything else here. No souls, no demons, not even a howler or two.
Tsáyidiel also didn’t detect anything, which had left him uneasy.
“My Queen.”
“Yes?”
“Give me this device. Allow me to scout the fort and achieve your goal.”
“If it takes a three-sixty photo and no souls are visible in it, that will not work well. We must be there.”
“Something is wrong, my Queen. I sense a trap.”
“Of course this is a trap, beloved one.”
“Then we should take wing and depart. Leave these unworthy souls to their fates.”
That was disturbing. Him wanting to flee? “What bothers my hunter so?”
“I know not.”
“Then stay prepared, but we continue. For this to not have been a waste, I must succeed and as but a soul.”
“As you command, my Queen.”
About halfway to the target we took a water break. Santiago had his own canteen, and surprisingly so did Jones. Yay for me, as I didn’t have to share.
Behind a wall out of sight of the castle, Santiago leaned in to whisper. “There is still nothing. Nor any activity up at the hole we came through, I have been watching.”
Jones grunted quietly. “It’s too dark to look for footprints in the dust on the roads.”
Santiago put the cap back on his bottle. “The breeze would keep them covered.”
He was right, as the ashen dust around us was loose and smothered everything.
I leaned against the wall, not caring about smudges on the jacket. If anything that’d help me blend in. “Think they’ll just wait to attack in the tunnels above? If it’s the only way in and they didn’t send an advance team, that’d be their only option.”
“Possible,” Santiago considered. “But the repelling anchors were already there. An advance team could have used them.”
“Why then,” asked Jones, “would they cut their own ropes?”
We didn’t have a good answer so Santiago gestured me forward - I’d been taking point since I’d likely be the primary target. I went as directed, but two buildings further in I smelled something awful.
And it wasn’t mold or the moat.
“What is it?” Santiago, lurking five feet behind was holding both knives I’d given him. As the breeze picked up, his nostrils flared too. “Death.”
Following our reluctant noses we found the source in a house whose door had burned completely away. Inside, a stack of ripe decomposing bodies had been shoved against a corner.
“Give me the orb.” I held out a hand to Santiago.
With what he’d heard in my voice, he simply handed it over.
Kneeling over the stack, I used the extra shirt I’d kept around my waist as a shield so the light wouldn’t escape and I could do what I really didn’t want to do.
I got a better look.
Demons. Scorched, sliced, and eviscerated. Beaks, claws, and humanoid faces peering out of helmets, all were a jumbled mess. Except that wasn’t what caused my veins to run cold. Because on a shredded piece of modern-style body armor sat an emblem: an outline of a glorious floating battle platform, one with a single domed tower jutting higher than the others, sitting amongst weapons strong enough to shatter smaller realms.
The Citadel.
Fuck.
Thoughts raced, and with an angry growl I tossed the orb back to Santiago. As he caught it, I gave commands in a low but steady voice so to be clearly understood. “Take pictures. Especially of their badges. And stay here until I say otherwise.”
Jones was about to object, but Santiago quieted him by shoving a knife into the grey-haired man’s hand. Not through it, but hilt against the palm.
So he’d have something to fight with.
As Santiago then got busy with the orb, I stepped outside and this time with eyes closed I took a look around.
A real look around, turning full three-sixty to scan. There was a weird webbing of obscuring intent across everything, and with focus it reluctantly parted.
There. One…no, two.
“Boys,” I announced, “We have company.”
Laughter boomed above the stonework structures. With a rip through the air, a giant demon a couple stories tall appeared: one whose orange and spike-covered skin spilled flames with billowing power. Clad only in a leather loincloth to best show off the standard overly-muscled frame, I was almost surprised at even that gesture towards modesty. “You noticed!” he chortled. “Impressive! The master said that would be entirely impossible.”
His companion far behind us also must have appeared, as sudden shouts of alarm instantly became screams of pain by those we’d left to hold the needed rooftop.
This…this was going to be tricky. Quick count of what lay under that burning skin showed seventy souls. More than a certain bastard commander had ever held.
But unlike during that fight, today the Light was with me.
“Tsáyidiel! The demon behind us, take it out without being seen! Save those idiots!”
“But-”
“GO!”
With a burst of wind, he went. The sudden gust was enough to cause the giant in front of me to pause, but not for very long as he then waxed philosophical.
“Still, efficiency is best in such situations, would you not agree?” A meaty hand reached out and launched a ball of that same orange-red fire. I’d say it was aimed at my face, except the flames stretched as wide as the street I was standing on.
Shit.
Dropping the mundane and therefore useless machete which had no hopes of piercing this demon’s hide, I planted feet and prepared. Energy I could manipulate, but without extending wings to power up there were limits to what I could pull off and hold onto.
And dammit all, I’d just crawled through critter gunk and fended off a gang rape. Popping feathers would make that have been for nothing.
Knowing I couldn’t control the full blast due to the intensity, hands swept along a circle and redirected the force instead. Heat billowed across skin - enough to cause burns where the gloves were uncovered - but the fires swirled about and streamed right into the building across the street.
Said house filled immediately to the brim with the ravenous fires. But this was nothing new to the structure as there wasn’t anything left inside to feed those flames.
As its still-standing chimney burped explosively upwards, I shoved power through my own frame causing bones to light up under the skin and shouted:
“Santiago! RUN!!”
And then to keep the fire giant busy, I charged right at him.
Seeing the sudden attack, the demon blinked away confusion as to how his flames had moved aside without him wanting them to. With tactical wariness, a green haze manifested around him in a sphere - these new energies solidifying into a solid shield.
Or at least, it should have been solid. To any other opponent it may have been.
But the magic from the defense’s control points quickly ripped away, and to the demon’s further shock I leapt through the green to land an energy-laden blow of my own as I’d decided to take my own advice as given to Santiago earlier.
The loincloth’s pattern shredded as if made of paper as my fist ripped past to slam a concussive wave into what lay vulnerable underneath.
A howl of extreme agony shrieked across the abandoned town, and I needed to dodge as the ground shook from the collision of two massive knees smacking into the dirt. Given the day’s events, I found his scream rather satisfying. What’s more, behind us an answering mighty shout of pain echoed as well.
Tsáyidiel had found his target.
A rapid check of the house with the bodies showed the two souls were gone. Good.
Meanwhile my opponent, weeping groans of more fire, gaped. “How?”
More Light filled limbs, and with a spinning jump kick I left my answer as a boot print upon his skull’s temple now conveniently in range. The bone crunched inward, and he toppled sideways to land with another earth-jolting thud.
It didn’t quite kill him - his chest still sucked air - but it was clearly a lights-out situation.
A moment of silence followed. Using it to control my own breathing (and therefore heeding a lesson given by a certain Lilim long ago), the gathered Light within slowly let go.
Which was a mistake.
It happened within a blink of an eye, maybe even faster. A new figure was simply there, wielding a longsword of emerald fire swinging with speed beyond speed directly at neck level.
My neck level.
Instinct took over. Possibly a mix of higher consciousness’ reactions and long-drilled training, hard to say.
Two iridescent wings flashed into existence, and moving within that blink, I shifted to toss arms before the blade in a warrior’s block - arms accustomed to wearing heavenly bracers strong enough to stand against even blades formed of Chaos.
Except Tsáyidiel still carried Camael’s gifts, and these wrists currently were bare.
Sword and fire impacted and bit deep.
All the way to glowing bone.
That would have been bad enough, but along with the blood-splattering cuts came an attack on another level entirely.
Earth. Stone. Firmament. Cooled rock above molten core, cycling and churning, age after endless age, raising mighty mountains only to cast them down. Immense plates drifting under oceans, the basis upon which a world of life existed, with movements unfathomable to the brief lives merely dotting the expanse of its surface…
Tremendous force slammed through my being, as if I’d been hit by the planet on which I’d once been born, geologic in scale and overwhelming in sheer continental power.
But wings flared, and the truth of the Light flooded within. The Light from which even the stars and galaxies themselves had been forged.
And that shine refused to allow my pattern’s fracture.
Even as I was thrown backwards along the street - wet crimson streaming away from both forearms - a primal roar shook the city.
While streaking towards me with another prepared strike, the gilded titanium armored and winged figure slammed sideways, as Tsáyidiel, in full gryphon form, simply powered on through him - sending both crashing into a hapless building that exploded in stone, ash, and raw angelic fury.
Only then did the shattering crack of Tsáyidiel’s hypersonic speed arrive to my ears.
What followed was another crunch, but this time of claws through plate as the attacking angel launched upwards back-first towards the cavern’s ceiling above.
Even through the dust, I caught sight of the angel’s face as his lava-infused wings caught air before reaching that ceiling. Shock and dismay first, then wide-eyed horror, and with a scream he sped not again at us, but away and towards the castle.
The same enveloping cloak of stealth surrounded him, but with the first pair of wings now free upon my back there could be no more hiding from my sight.
Tsáyidiel prepared to leap in pursuit, but my command caught him first.
“Let him go!”
Fury and instinctual confusion filled the senses. “But my Queen! He-”
“Had no knowledge of who or what I am! Stay with me, my beloved defender. We too have no knowledge of whom else may await within the keep.”
“If…if my Queen commands.”
“I do.”
Peeling myself from the road’s dirt, I sat up - only to groan as throbbing across the forearms took root. The deep cuts were healing, but each held traces of that emerald fire still burning within - traces the Light slowly sizzled away.
I wondered if I’d be stuck with a pair of matching scars.
The brilliance cast by the wings powering the incremental healing flickered about, and this time I didn’t try to relax. Instead I reassessed surroundings, sensing whatever was near or even far.
In the keep beyond cloaked spellwork lurked additional angelic energy, at least three distinct patterns. Several more particularly concentrated patches of soulglow were also present, indicating more high-powered demons in residence as well. Plus a smattering of weaker ones.
Back at the rooftop we’d landed upon, the number of souls was the same - except most were awfully dimmer than before.
Dangit.
One additional soul was also quickly running through the maze of buildings to get there.
But only one and not two.
Spinning around, I found the missing soul. Behind an empty window frame which had given a front-row view to the fighting, stood Santiago.
He’d seen the entire thing, and stared openly as Tsáyidiel came over to nuzzle my arms in concern.
Giving the gryphon a reassuring pat, I got to my feet and called out to the watching soul.
“Alright Santiago, may as well come on out. Show’s over.”
“Is it? I am not so certain.” He didn’t move from his spot.
“Let’s talk.”
He debated for a moment, but a growl from Tsáyidiel at the audacity to not simply obey convinced the man. Exiting the building, he then came within ten feet and stopped. “And what shall we discuss?”
“What’s in that castle is not something you want to deal with.”
“And you do?”
Tsáyidiel may not have liked it, but I nodded. “Yeah. Think I have to.”
“Ah. Then what of myself? I have obviously witnessed more than I should. And it is quite apparent that this situation, sad to say, is generously beyond my capacity.”
“You know, you’re damned smart. Pardon the unfortunate pun.”
He gave a wry smile. “A blessing and a curse, situation depending.”
“If you were me, you’d kill the witnesses. Wouldn’t you.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.
Which was answered anyway. “I would.”
“Then rejoice that I am not you. What you need know is that this whole arrangement here must have been overruled from higher up the demon chain of command, from a direction I stupidly hadn’t considered. This was never a real ‘Harrowing’ assignment, it was something else entirely to manipulate me into coming here. But if you’re careful you can work this to your advantage.”
“How so?”
“Did you take any pictures of the fight?”
“It was indeed tempting. But no. To possess such felt exceedingly dangerous.”
“Good. Then take the orb and its record of those bodies we found back with you. Inform the idiot prison guards that I told you to run, and you did. As fast as you could, leaving me to stand and die. And don’t worry about the guards, they won’t be waiting in ambush - at this point they’ll have been ordered not to.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yeah. He knows it’d just piss me off more.”
“He?”
“The jerkwad who set me up. If I don’t make a timely return, when you get back inform ‘mother’ that you have a message only for a General Krux of the Citadel. One from me, given before I told you to run - a message that came with a curse placed upon you should you deliver to anyone else. She knows I do magic, but hers is weak so she’ll buy it.”
“And what then to this Krux? Should this personage actually appear.”
“Oh he definitely will. Tell him to his face that I called him an absolute jerk. And that the crazy redhead said he’s got a Grigori situation down here which should be left the fuck alone. Plus he’s gonna owe me even bigger whenever I see him again - right after I punt his tiny ass for a field goal.”
After a pause, Santiago repeated the message verbatim. “Is this all?”
“No. Tell him also that I said he should draft you - that you’d fit right in. Consider the referral as my payment for messenger duty.”
“That could be interpreted as both a compliment and an insult.”
“Take it however you please. Just get going.”
He began to turn, but stopped. “Are you a demon or an…” He couldn’t say it.
“An angel? Yeah. I am.”
“Astounding.” He was about to say something else, but shook his head and walked on.
Watching him, I thought about the other loose end from this misadventure: a certain demon named Blorph. Reaching through the mark he so reluctantly had accepted, the image of three blank walls and a set of vertical bars came into focus.
Along with the surge of boiling desire for my demise, and the expectation it would happen soon.
Through the link his true name was touchable. Through the link it could be burnt away.
It’d be incredibly easy.
Flexing wings, my head tilted, causing neck to crack and loosen, which also happened to bring Tsáyidiel back into my line of sight.
He was, in a word, magnificent.
Armor of ivory and gold contrasted with dark feathers and fur, four gilded wings folding majestically along mailed sides where panther body seamlessly blended into raven’s head and front claws. I couldn’t help myself: fingers ran through the feathers behind his beak, letting Light trail past to gently touch the restored Name within.
A shudder twitched wings and the softest of hides, and his eyes closed as our connection resonated true.
With a decision, the other connection severed as if it had never been, leaving Blorph to whatever fate he’d imagined should I have simply died. Maybe the jailers would yet have him killed. Maybe the comrades willing to engage in revenge for a soul daring to mark him would also set him free.
Such was no longer my concern.
“Come, beloved hunter,” I said warmly as the tingles between us soothed the sting from the cuts across my arms. “We shall approach directly. The attack by another of the Bene-Elohim was likely in error.”
“As my Queen wishes.”
We flew then together, my shine reflected brightly by his metal coverings. Over the city and past the expected stinky and algae-filled moat, then into the empty courtyard set before the steps leading to the central hall.
Demon guards lined those low stairs, wearing a mix of medieval chain and modern Kevlar-plated tactical outfits. They were wise enough to not interfere as we folded wings and climbed.
Through a pair of mighty felwood doors we walked, to a hall of high stone arches all but empty except for pillars holding light-emitting crystals standing every ten feet, moving past door guardian demons as strong as the ones we just felled. Finally we reached two angels of earthly elements standing beside a solid metal and occupied backless bench gleaming platinum in the ambient light.
As my own brightness slowly filled more of the room, I found it difficult to make out the darkly cloaked humanoid figure sitting upon the simple throne.
They spoke first.
“Well, well, well,” the being on the throne said, the words dragged out as if from depths of bored exhaustion. “Look at what the cat-bird dragged in.”
The voice finally registered and thoughts froze. It couldn’t be. Increasing the intensity of the wings to better show the hidden face, in shock I blurted, “Cassius?!”
As the face came into focus however, feathered black wings stretched out behind him, swallowing all the light in their vicinity to leave nothing but empty shadows.
Seeing my horrified expression, he laughed as a cruel smile curled along features once belonging to a friend. The bitter and tortured sound filled the hall, its echoes scraping along the walls and across painfully protesting eardrums.
“No, angel of the Light of Lies,” rasped the figure. “Only I am here. Only Shemyaza!!”
Ouch.
New chapters posted every Monday and Friday! Thanks for reading...and for commenting!
- Erisian
