by M.C. O'Neill
***
Nanna Orsi and On’dinn Jak’sin were in the Na’rundi basement when the first thunderous plods of the behemoths assaulted Corosa. Earlier, not long before the cat was let out of the bag unto the world, Quen’die’s father and the Na’rundis had returned home from the jailbreak. The lad was amazed that they had managed to pull the plan off the moment he heard the house sing of their arrival.
“Where’s Quen’die?” On’dinn chirped. “What happened?”
“She’s all right, son,” Banda nodded. “She’s with Mavriel. He’s taken her to the docks with your friends you call the ‘Zobbos,’ I believe. It’s better to keep her split up. We don’t want the bad guys finding us all in one place.”
“What happened? Madame Orsi and I saw it all on the screen! Dee was beating the tar out of Lith, and then Mav tried to stop it, and then that Cadreth guy killed this prince or something, and then that same Cadreth guy told the world what Mav said about the Aldebarans really being demons from the Nine Hells. He let the bomb drop on their heads! And then…,” the young elf couldn’t contain his wonder as his mouth ran a mile a minute.
“Yeah, that’s the gist of it, On’dinn,” Banda stopped him as he held a big hand aloft to quell his excitement. “I’ve confirmed it all with Mavriel. Tonight is going to be a whopper, so we had better load up the basement with supplies and food while we can. Mavriel claims he’s returning if he’s able, but the streets and the sky will be complete pandemonium.”
Late that afternoon, the demonic attack was in full force and the Na’rundi villa was shaken every minute when the gigantic beasts had trod too close to the property. For some chivalric reason, On’dinn would check on Nanna with increasing frequency, but she would rebuff him every time. “Oh, On’dinn, I am much tougher than you think. Maybe even tougher than you.”
As he and Tam’laa took stock of the canned goods in their basement larder, On’dinn had to re-count over and over again as the bumps from the monsters above caused him to lose his tally. Between the five of them, they would have just about enough food to feed them for a little over one week.
“Looks like we’ll have to make a break to one of the public shelters sooner or later, huh?” Tam’laa surmised as she double-checked the figures on her tablet.
“Yeah, we do that or sneak out and loot,” the lad countered with a shrug. “I have keys to the Sea and Shell.”
His friend shook her head with a small grin. On’dinn was always a sneaky maverick. “Considering the circumstances, that might not be a bad idea. Who knows if any of those stores are ever going to reopen?”
“Sure, but how do we manage that?” the lad challenged. “Those demons will scoop us up into the air or we’ll get flattened by one of those huge…things!”
Tam’laa bit one of her golden fingernails in thought. “Remember when Cadreth killed Prince Stolas or whatever his name was at the Circle today?”
“Yeah? So?”
“He used my father’s sword to do that! It’s made totally out of iron! Cold iron!” Tam’laa dug into her satchel. She pulled the stinking blade from its belly. “Chek’yiv’s blade.”
“Aww…Pee-Yoo!” On’dinn pinched his nose. “It smells like somebody poo’ed!”
“Yes, I gotta get a new bag after this,” she laughed as she too pinched her nostrils. “But that’s the answer! He barely tapped the elder and he just deformed into this black goo!”
“Why didn’t Cadreth tell the world that iron kills them off on the screen?” On’dinn whined.
To that, Tam’laa shrugged. “Who knows? He has his own reasons, or maybe he didn’t know iron works either? Maybe to him a blade is a blade. But I do know that red mana doesn’t do a thing to them. Those court wardens fired off a couple shots at Mav and the stuff just bounced off his wings.”
Still clutching his thin nose, On’dinn marveled at the small, curved scimitar. “Hmm…maybe we should test this out for ourselves.”
Tam’laa shot him a wary look. “I like what you’re thinking, but I don’t like what you’re saying. Let’s just see how this plays out by the morning. Maybe Mavriel can fill us in more when he gets here.”
“Hit and run?” the lad flashed the maiden a cocked smile. Another tremendous vibration from off in the distance shook the house.
Her grin, as always, was infectious. “Hit and run…”
I Am Iron Maiden
Sleep came slow to her that night up in the spare bunk of the Zobbo’s tiny house. It wasn’t the constant chatter of the dockside ruffians from out in the front room, nor was it a conscious fear of the huge day that Quen’die would face without doubt the next morning that caused her bouts of tossing. Although it was the beginning of Eighthmoon, the hottest month of the year in Atlantis, the maiden was freezing. Sweat and chills wracked her body as she felt hot and she felt cold at the same time. At least she had managed to squeeze in a hot waterfall beforehand.
“Distant Dreams”
Without even realizing it, she entered into a dream of her old home. Kaedish was playing a video game, as usual, but one that she couldn’t recognize. Glancing at the screen, she thought how silly it was as it appeared the goal of it was to build birthday cakes. Despite the fluffy contents, Kaedish, as usual, was becoming enraged by it.
As she wound through the alien, yet familiar halls of the house, she was shocked to find, not Father, but Mother hunkered in the kitchen over the sink. Just as the last time they saw each other, the look on her face was less than welcoming. A large brass crown, or perhaps a tiara, was slung in her hand.
“Mother, I’m…”
The lady cut the maiden off as she thrust the crown forward. There would be no discussion here, she learned in seconds. From down the hall Kaedish began swatting the manascreen. “I am done with you. All that is left is for you to take this.”
“Please don’t go, I still…,” Quen’die’s pleas were interrupted by Kaedish’s repetitive banging. The sound grew ever louder.
“Kaedish! Stop! I need to talk to Mother!” the maiden screamed from over her shoulder.
Mother held out the hoop in her hand, ignoring the ruckus. “Take it and be done with me! I am no longer your queen. Maybe that’s your responsibility now.”
“No! I don’t want it! I want you! I want you back home with us!” her daughter begged as her brother’s blows became deafening.
“Those days are over,” Mother said with no apparent feeling. “That family job is finished for the both of us. Here is your new assignment.”
“Mama, you aren’t my boss or my queen! You’re my…” Kaedish’s strikes were met by a thunderous thump as the evil brass loop hit the ground in shattering unison.
She was still freezing when she awoke to Face’s banging on the frame of the rickety bunk. It felt like ice water sweat was dumped all over her. “Wake up, Dee! You gotta get up!”
“Hey, I’m here,” she mumbled with a gasp. That was a terrible experience, she thought, but it appeared that she would arise to something even worse. “W-What’s going on?”
“We lucked out, Red,” Face said as he pulled a flimsy tunic over his muscles. “All night one of those monster-things was roaming around the docks, but we’re still here. I can’t believe you actually slept through it all.”
“Yeah, well, in case you don’t know, they never turn off the lights in the dungeon,” she smirked with some ire. “Makes sleep difficult so I had to catch up on some zeez. Don’t suggest it.”
The Zobbo laughed at that. “What’ya mean, Red? I was voted most likely to spend life in the slammer at school! Thanks for the info.”
“Don’t mention it,” the maiden was pedangling over the side of the top bunk. “What’s going on now?”
“It’s morning now and you already have a visitor,” the lad informed as he began heaping on ounces of cheap scents. The room began to reek like a nightclub regardless of the early hour. “Mavriel made it back from Tam’s house. I guess he has something he wants you to do. I dunno. He’s got
wings, he’s kinda weird, so…”
Quen’die was hit by a rock with that. After that horrible dreamtime encounter with Mother, the maiden needed a little light. Even if such encounter was all in her mind. “He’s here right now?
“Yeah, he’s in the front room talking to my sister. Get him while he’s hot,” Face smiled.
“The Perfect Kiss”
Mavriel hadn’t bothered to discorporate his wings, as he must have flown over from across the bay. How the angelic had made it to the safety of the shanty through all that demonic traffic in the air puzzled the maiden, but she was thrilled to find that her lad had arrived to the docks unscathed.
Without saying a word, Quen’die rushed up to her deva and crushed him with a tremendous bearhug. His warm stoniness was all she needed at that moment, and it charged her with more energy than a good night’s sleep could ever offer. Ropes of his power filled her form as she kept her eyes closed and savored it.
“Mav, I didn’t think I’d see you again. I was so scared,” she looked up at him with plaintive eyes. Pumpkin was sharing the moment with vicarious glee as she tugged at her bottom lip with a bit of embarrassment for the maiden, yet a fraction of jealousy.
“Awww, that’s so sweet!” the Zobbette chimed.
“Quen’die,” the deva could not hold back the laugh. His ward was like a happy puppy who had just found a new home. “It’s good to see you too!”
She continued to clutch his amazing structure just to soak in more of that heavenly warmth. The bouts of clammy-cold shivers from the night before were all but forgotten with each second she held him and she didn’t want those seconds to end.
“Quen’die,” he whispered with a gentle hiss. “Come with me out to the dock in back. I need for you to do something very important. We really don’t have much time.”
Ever since she and Mavriel had touched down at the Zobbos’ front yard the day before, the maiden had not left the house as it was much too dangerous. Even staying inside the little sea shanty was high risk as just one stomp from a behemoth could all but crush the little place. Quen’die was treated to a front row seat for the end of the world as she and the deva overlooked the bay.
Hell was raining down upon the water. Junkets of screaming elves sailed, rowed and motored in a vainglorious effort to get to somewhere else for safety. Anywhere else. Out on the lead-grey waters of Corosa Bay that morning, the traffic was packed with pure despair. Those mighty waters had become a panoramic cavalcade of burning doom and damnation.
Over the masts and riggings and sails flew flights upon flights of demons as they would swoop down in shifts only to ensnare small crowds of elves in their nets with each hellish sortie. Their strength was immense as Quen’die saw how one solitary demon had managed to scoop at least five elves in a single catch and spirit away without effort towards his ark. By the gods, they were strong.
“Gods! Mavriel! I can’t see this!” she once again retreated into his chest. “They’re everywhere! We can’t get away!”
The deva lifted her head out of his muscled nest of sanctuary with a gentle hand and looked her straight in the eyes. “We aren’t running. We won’t need to.”
“I don’t understand,” she screwed up her red brows in angry confusion. “What else can we do? Look at that out there!”
Almost with a rude push, Mavriel disengaged Quen’die’s embrace. Stepping over to an array of fishing equipment fettered to the shanty’s bayside wall, the deva looked like a presenter on a game show that no one would care to play. The maiden giggled a bit to herself as she thought of him in that role. “Step right up and win any variety of amazing rusty old fishing gear! We have hooks, pitons, harpoons and tridents! If you play right now, we’ll even throw in a year’s supply of chum for consolation!”
“Okay, Mav, what are we seriously gonna do?” she intoned as she jutted her hands onto her bony hips. It was a stance she had inherited from Mother when she saw someone doing something ridiculous. “Fish the demons out of the sky?”
“Not quite,” he smiled at her defiant wit. “But we can use any kind of these instruments to fight back. Just as long as it’s made of iron. These demons are horribly allergic to it, and a single scratch will kill them. Tam’laa told me all about it last night. That’s exactly what killed Prince Stolas; an iron blade.”
Grabbing a wicked-looking trident, the angelic modeled it like he was still on that pointless, imaginary game show. “Here, this will do just fine.”
Quen’die didn’t agree. The makeshift weapon looked like it could do some damage, but against all that infernal resistance, she still wouldn’t have a chance. Those things would surround her from all three coordinates: x, y and z. “I don’t like what you’re suggesting. I wasn’t chosen to get cut down in five minutes flat!”
His face melted into the grim light. “Quen’die, the demons have left their arks. They aren’t concentrated and you will only encounter light resistance. We need to strike the ark now before they flood the things again and regroup for another roundup. The time now is perfect!”
His plan was foolish, she thought. How could he expect her to pull off such an amazing stunt? “Eh, Mavriel, are you implying that I should go into one of those things personally and clear it out? You really are crazy!”
“I don’t mean for you to do only that; you will recapture it for me,” he countered. “I am driving it back to my Home and from there I can get some more help from my brothers and sisters.”
“Why do you need me?” she was on the verge of screaming at him. “Can’t you just swoop in there and kick their tails back to the hells?”
“No, that’s my problem,” he lowered his head as if already defeated. “Their forces have cast wards against any and all of my kind. No angels can get into those arks as long as those wards are up. Quite the nasty safeguard, I must say.”
Her green eyes were huge, raw coconuts delivered fresh off the fear boat. “Oh no! I’m not going in there alone with just an iron hook. Nuh-uh. Forget it. Choose someone else.”
“But only a mortal can enter it! That is precisely why Ui chose you!” the deva pled for her attention, but she didn’t seem too convinced by his tall and steep revelation.
Quen’die stifled a growl of frustration. “What do I do? I don’t even know how to get inside that thing, much less dispel a ward! Maybe you should ask my nanna. She’s into all those kinds of things.”
“Up in the capstone is a giant cornet. It is what has been emitting that horrible noise every now and again,” Mavriel vied once again for her attention. “Just play a C major and then a G major and it will break the curse on that ark. They are all linked together. You dispel one curse and you’ve dispelled them all. I can then rush the place and drive it back to Paradise.”
Her annoyance turned to despondency. Mavriel or Ui screwed up in choosing her, she supposed. There must have been a horrid mistake. “Firstly, Mavriel, I don’t know how to get way up in that capstone. Secondly, I don’t know a G major from a Z minor! I’m tone deaf! You got the wrong maiden.”
“Eh, there is no such note as a Z minor,” he chuckled.
“See my point!” she huffed back. His mirthful reactions were aggravating her more than ever.
Grabbing both of her shoulders, Mavriel could tell that she was stiff as a plank of aged maple. Her anger was fading in the split seconds they met each other’s eyes. He was moving in so close to her face and she was surrendering. Into her mouth, her deva whispered softly, “Don’t get the wrong idea.”
When his lips met hers, she knew for the first time in her life what bliss, in all honesty, was. Many of her maiden-friends had tried to explain a first kiss in explicit detail to her. Some of the stories sounded amazing, while others were dreadful to the point of hilarity. Soft tongues, floppy tongues, slobbers, bad breath, good breath; she had heard it all. What she was experiencing transcended anything within that range. The feeling was of heaven and she knew, without a doubt, from then on that Mavriel was of Heaven.
>
Knowledge unknown to any mortal rushed through her mind as universal answers were presented unto the inner pit of her brain. Quen’die was treated to the answers to odd mysteries that she had never even bothered to question throughout her life with each moment his wonderful lips locked onto hers. One of the more mundane of those answers known to many, but not this maiden, was the knowledge of music and sound. It was so simple and clear to her for the first time in her sixteen years. The sensation was beyond what was known as magic.
“Uh…,” he broke away from her as she peered back into his eyes with the speed of a snail’s crawl. Time was still the five seconds prior when she was fused to him and she never wanted the hangover of it to end. “Yeah…”
“…C major to G major. Ignore the illusory door at the southern entrance. Fly up the central stairway to the main chamber. Take a left. Ascend those stairs. Capstone at the top. Level thirteen. Gotcha,” Quen’die rambled as she was still in that wonderful trance.
Mavriel duly presented her the old iron trident for their coming assault. To Quen’die, it didn’t look like much and her running mind came up with another and much better idea. The best option came, as odd as it may have seemed, from her mother in that terrible dream. Perhaps that tiara had meant something. “Wait, Mav! That trident is kinda lame. I have a really good friend who can help!”
“Huh? “the deva looked at her perplexed. “Someone I don’t know about? Hmmm?”
“Oh, I didn’t know you angelics were the jealous types!” she punched his tough form with a strike full of mirth. “Well, deal with it because his name is Jugger!”
The deva’s wings fluttered with a shrug. “Who’s Jugger and how can he help?”
“He’s my golem from my work!” she splashed out her newly-toned arms in triumph. “He’s big, he’s bad, and he’s made one-hundred-percent out of iron! He’ll totally smash everything!”
“Sounds promising,” the angel smiled.
“You bet he is!” she beamed. “Only problem is, we have to go get him from his coffin at the docks and then we need to get him over to the pyramid.”
Quen’die sized the deva before her up and down. “I dunno. I don’t see how you can fly both of us over there. He must weigh tons!”
In the corner of her eyes, the maiden spotted the shining white utility coach parked to the side of the Zobbo’s shanty. She sized it up just as she had Mavriel. It may work, she chewed in her mind. Jugger was big, but that coach was tough and it had a big flatbed trailing behind it.
“Okay, I think I know what to do, but it may be a longshot,” she squinted her eyes with conviction.
“How do you mean?” the angel asked while still confused.
The maiden cocked a mischievous grin. “I’ll go get Face. But you’ll have to fly interference.”
“Adrenaline”
“Oh my gods! I don’t like this!” the Zobbo moaned as he swerved the coach around a lumbering ambulance. Its gumballs were wailing without care of the infernal forces fluttering hither and yon above them. Quen’die grabbed onto the rail of the passenger door as the coach fishtailed with the rickety trailer behind it. “This is a heck of a day to go to work, maiden!”
“Just hold tight, Face!” she continued to study the dashboard map. “Avoid any of the big red things on the screen! Those are the monsters!”
Face shot a gander at the blinking device as well. “Yeah, we don’t have any of those in the area, but I’m more worried about the moths flying right over our heads!”
“Mavriel has that all taken care of. Just concentrate on the road and don’t get anyone killed!” she hollered. The screams and bleats of the frantic traffic around them were vertiginous. The Zobbo felt fortunate that their destination was not far.
“Gotcha!” the lad cut a sharp right onto the docks’ service road. “We’re almost there.”
The sky was mourning that day as it was the dun color of sorrow. Quen’die wondered if anywhere on Earth was sunny at that moment. For such a horrible travesty to happen worldwide, it seemed physically impossible that any place would be experiencing a nice day; just a blanket of doom.
“Here’s the garage!” she pointed to the depot which Face had driven to hundreds of times throughout his life. “Jugger should still be in there! I just need to grab my halo.”
“Next stop - bad idea!” the Zobbo imitated a Loop Liner conductor. “Seriously, Dee, I don’t know about this. Jugger is gonna weigh this coach down and we’ll have to take it pretty slow.”
Circling overhead, the maiden could see her angel looping and barreling. The look on his face was difficult to discern at such a height, but Quen’die assumed it was angry and determined and ready to pummel any infernal agent that dared to meet him. “Keep the coach running! I’ll be back in a jiff!”
She hurtled ropes and pylons on her way to the golem hanger. It was just like running foreword for a hot game of runta. Not one of the obstacles in her path slowed down her speed even a fraction. Face must have been observing her performance as he began whooping with joy. “Hey yeah! You go, maiden!”
Once in the hangar, the thuds from the hellish ruckus outside could still be heard as dull echoes, but the map was correct, there was not a giant hellbeast close by as Quen’die could judge by the weak force of the concussions. Tearing the yellow ribbon off her locker, the maiden shook her head for a moment in annoyance as she read it, “Crime Scene - Evidence.”
“Whatever,” she blurted. Deep in the shadows of the cubby, she spotted the inert brazen hoop hanging, as expected, from a hook: her control halo.
With one movement, she slapped the device around her forehead and ran deeper into the garage. It was time to get an old buddy of hers out of bed. “Good day, Quen’die Reyliss. Ready for work!”
Lined up just like any normal morning before a day on the job, the golems rested with nary a glimmer of life in their upright coffins. Quen’die strained her eyes in the darkness of the derelict garage to see if she was in front of her personally-assigned extramaton. Upon closer examination, she found him in the gloom. Etched in a wooden plaque from above his giant, iron frame read the name “Jugger.”
“Good to see you again, old friend,” the maiden greeted the sleeping beast as she stood back to summon it for the grand mission ahead of her.
As she closed her eyes, she felt the sting of the halo tickle her forehead as the mana coursed through. “Golemus via vitas!” she chanted.
Iron clanked and squeaked with life and power as Jugger awoke from his slumber. It was only a few seconds before Quen’die could lead it forward out of its greasy nook. Just to make sure she wasn’t rusty at the job, she punched a right and a left into the empty air before her. Jugger made the precise movements that she did with every twist and every nuance.
“All right, big guy,” Quen’die slapped its metal frame. “We’re going for a ride!”
Face waited in nervous anticipation behind his trackball as he peered overhead for what seemed like the thousandth time to see how Mavriel was holding up. Not one demon dared to engage the angelic in battle. Either they were too afraid of him or they had more pressing assignments to fulfill, such as scooping up the poor citizens of Corosa. The Zobbo felt grateful for his cover, regardless.
Jugger was barreling toward the coach, but Face could not see Quen’die. For a split second, he was harried by a great sense of dread that the rushing golem might to careen right into the side of his vehicle. It bothered not to avoid the ropes and barricades before it as it smashed through them like so much crockery. “Yo, Dee! Watch out!” he squealed before the hulking figure stopped but inches away from the coach’s frame with amazing agility.
From behind the golem, Quen’die jumped in front of the passenger window. “Okay, Face, just hold the coach steady. I’m going to back him up onto your flatbed.”
“Ew, okay,” he winced. “Just don’t scratch it. I just had it detailed!”
He could feel the whole vehicle lurch forward as Quen’die direc
ted Jugger onto the trailer. Face grimaced again as he heard iron squeak against the cured wood of its shining body. “Well, so much for scratches,” he moaned to himself.
Seconds later, a flurry of red hair exploded through Face’s coach door. Quen’die looked sweaty and overexerted; her cheeks flushed, but the smile on her face belied it. “Wow! That was capital! Let’s get this over with and steal us an ark!”
“And here I thought I loved adrenaline,” the burly lad groaned.
“Heh,” she inhaled her endorphins with a deep breath. “We have heaps more of it on our way!”
“Glorious Frequencies”
“Gah!” Face lamented. “Tell Jugger to go on a diet when this is all over, will ya?” The Zobbo checked the speedometer on his dash and read that the coach could just huff about thirty miles-per-hour with the big iron passenger in the back.
“Just keep going on and make sure we don’t run into any of those!” she pointed out the windscreen at a behemoth that was squatting its backside into the side of Thelemic Ark Cool Arms far off into the horizon. “Ew, what’s it doing? It looks like it’s taking a poo!”
“Eh,” Face squinted into the distance at the unloading beast. “I think it’s dumping off all of the elves it’s been eating up. They’re loading them all into the arks!”
“Well, I’m going to use the front door, thank you,” Quen’die grunted in defiance.
Like a bloated white turtle, the coach wound its way through the slow and hectic traffic. As it drove closer to Thelemic Ark Morning Star, fewer fellow motorists delayed the teens’ journey as any sane elf would not get within five miles of a pyramid. The already-dim sky grew darker as the Zobbo steered them into the hulk’s deep, triangular shadow.
“Just park this about one hundred yards before the south face,” Quen’die directed her chauffeur. “After I unload Jugger, you scram home and stay put until I get back. And if you know what’s best, I personally think you Zobbos better hit a shelter. That house of yours won’t withstand a direct stomp from one of those things.”
“Uh, yeah,” the maiden had never seen Face so nervous about anything as he gazed up the side of the giant monolith. “Sounds like a good idea, Red.”
“As good as it gets, I suppose,” the elfmaid shrugged as she looked back at his worried face. “Remember to stay away from the big red blobs on your map.”
Jugger lurched the coach again as the maiden awoke him. Face almost hit the ceiling of the vehicle’s cab from the hefty shudder, but felt the large weight off its frame liberating. As Quen’die prepared for her final run, the Zobbo sped off in a hurried loop-around.
“C’mon, Jugger, do what I do, baby,” she gritted between her perfect ivories. As she crouched, ready to spring off, Jugger made the exact same motions in tandem. She was in total control as the golem was nothing but an iron puppet with nary a lag of time in between them.
With each bound forward, the iron hulk raced toward the southern wall of the pyramid. All around either side of master and puppet, wrecked materiel from the abandoned ADF cordons flanked their movements. As Quen’die swiveled her head from side-to-side to view the damage, so did Jugger.
The pulsing wall of, whatever it was made of, stood before them like it had been there for millions of years. For what the maiden knew, it was that old, but as she rushed for it, all that appeared solid was not. Jugger disappeared within its mass a mere second before she followed it. The ark had devoured them both.
Much like the house featured in the old faerie tale her nanna would read to her when she was little, Old Baba’s Shack, the ark was much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the streets. To be honest, she thought, its innards were immense. Although she had just been on solid earth moments before, the pyramid’s interior was not a part of it. She was now in an altogether different dimension. It was no wonder to her how those giant beasts could fit within this structure.
Standing like a grand waterfall before them rested the wide stairway that Mavriel’s kiss had denatured in her mind. It was just as if she had been there before a hundred times. Its odd familiarity surged bolts of courage through her spirit.
Her deva claimed that the resistance inside would be light, if any. Quen’die wasn’t afraid; this was the right thing to do. The dock job, the golem, the dream with Mother and even five-star runta matches had made her the perfect candidate to reclaim that Holy Ark.
As she and Jugger rushed up what seemed to be an endless supply of stairs, a flight of demons swooped in from out of their flanks. “So much for light resistance, Mavriel,” the maiden lamented. About eight of them or so bore down on the linked pair. In their hands, they gripped nasty barbed spears. Unlike with the rest of elfdom, they were not concerned about capturing her. These fiends wanted her dead.
Quen’die played high to match their hovering bobs. Not one of the unholy lot would stand their ground as they jabbed at her with quick, but rather timid, strikes. The demons could smell the iron off Jugger’s hide and it was obvious that they were quite revolted. With a simple red tornado which she had performed countless times on the runta field, the maiden spun Jugger around with her. Not one strike was false as a flurry of sickening black muck rained down upon the whirling duo.
“Gods! This stinks!” she wretched as the stygian mess infiltrated her nostrils. It wasn’t blood, it was something unlike she had ever seen. Or smelled.
Her healthy body skipped not a beat despite her gasping for air. She and Jugger bounded up the steps until they at last reached the main chamber. She figured she would have to be careful there as such a room may have been helmed with at least a light presence of infernal personnel.
It was so sudden and sloppy. Quezz popped up from behind a plush sofa. Quen’die cared not what she had been doing there or even if she knew of her arrival. Her asura blocked the archway to their left with proud moth wings in one quick and frightening movement. The sneer on her face was one of the few emotions the elfmaid had ever seen the beast display. Quezz was scared.
“Get back, Quen’die!” the demon hissed. “I-I can’t let you past! Go away!”
Quen’die and Jugger halted, both with defiant arched backs. The maiden glared at her hellish guardian in synchronicity with Jugger’s dead gaze. “Hmm… Let me think about that,” she bit her lip with facetious concern. “Nah, I’m gonna kick your tail instead.”
Quezz fluttered high, just as did the other demons. Quen’die ordered Jugger to grab her delicate waist. The asura held much power, but she was also becoming sick within her friend’s iron grip. “Echh. Please, ech. Let me go!”
“Yeah, Quezz,” the maiden gloated at her former captor’s wriggling form which was held aloft by metal force. “Looks like Mavriel wins this round. Say goodbye, Loser!”
Quen’die squeezed her empty hand as Jugger’s iron version crushed the demon’s slight form. Within seconds, nothing was left of Quezz but the signature puddle of demonic black filth. No matter the stench, the maiden thought, it was worth it to rid the world of that trash. From that day forward, Quen’die held much respect for the custodial engineers who had been assigned to clean up Atlantis and make it beautiful.
The journey up to the capstone was quick and easy. A cold pang of suspicion overrode the maiden’s good feelings as she worried that it was just a little too easy. Ahead of her lay the strange consoles, orbs, and screens which seemed quite obvious to be what controlled the vessel. The capstone chamber must have been from where the arks were piloted, she judged.
Nestled amongst the arrays of alien mechanics, a golden cornet was erected aloft on a pole. It looked so ancient, as if it always was and always would be. Never in her life had she seen such antiquity; not even amongst her mother’s or Nanna Orsi’s collections.
With great care, Quen’die looked from side to side scanning the shadows for the source of her nagging nerves. Nothing at all could be found in any direction. Except for the quiet hum and singing of the equipment, no other signs of life or activity could be noted.<
br />
Pushing Jugger aside, Quen’die rushed up the small platform which housed the cornet. “Let’s see,” she muttered to herself as she studied the musical device. “C major to G maj…”
Something had removed her halo as she could hear it sing with a familiar politeness, “Golem link severed. Please remember to sign out! Have a good day, Quen’die!”
Above her, in the recesses of the shadowy ceiling of the capstone, a beautiful female form with brazen hair like the color of her little brother’s, but much more amazing and lush, oozed down from her dark perch and wrapped herself almost with love around the maiden like a Xochian constrictor. Trouble, silent trouble.
The beast probed her mind deep as she snaked around the maiden’s tough body. The revelation of Quen’die’s grand role made the demon feel sick and triumphant at the same time.
“Ah, Quen’die Reyliss; ‘the chosen one,’” Glasya Labolas cooed with a soft hiss into the elfmaid’s twittering ear.
Heaven on the Thirteenth Floor
Flowery scents invaded the maiden’s nostrils as the High President tightened her clutch. If she had squeezed her any harder, Quen’die would have been unable to breathe; the demon was strong. When the elfmaid closed her eyes, for a slight moment she thought she was in a florist’s shop as the scintillating music of the controls and odor of the demon’s perfumes painted a new sensation in the darkness while her head began to swim.
“Didn’t you know trespassing is a serious offense here, maiden?” Glasya chuckled with youthful glee. “You should be downstairs with all the other fishies.”
Quen’die’s intended retort was arrested the moment Glasya squeezed the back of her tiny neck and lifted her off the ground like a sadistic farmer about to drown a kitten. “Time to put you in your place, ‘Chosen One.’”
“You really put a damper on my brother’s plans here, little whelp,” she continued to gloat to Quen’die’s suspended form. “But Ui chose poorly, apparently. Your tomes love to champion His supposed infallibility. But then again, why are you now in my grip?”
Her brother must have been that Lucifer guy Mavriel mentioned before. The master of the Nine itself. Glasya was known by the whole world as the coordinator of the phony “exodus,” but little did most know that she was not at the top of the wretched heap. Either way, Quen’die lamented, she was the one to master her doom. It sullened the maiden to think that Travius may have been correct about her predetermined fate as she felt the demon tickle a golden dagger against her skin.
“Quen’die, I can’t decide if I should slice your milky throat or crush it,” she sang with sweet timbre. “This blade in my hand is perfect for sacrifice, but turning you off like a light may be what is needed for a cur such as you, yes?”
Lungs were malfunctioning in the elfmaid’s chest as her heart continued to beat ever faster. It was as if the tinkling music of her surroundings was being snuffed out by the rushing of blood to her head. A new voice was layered in the swirling polyphony around her. Glasya herself was also choking.
“Hells, I… Oh…,” she managed as she loosened her grasp on the elfmaid’s neck with a slow weakness. Glasya was losing her strength. “Quen’die, I…”
It was almost as if the demon was imploring her help. At her first chance, Quen’die pivoted around and away from the beast. Her face was so beautiful, more so than really any elfmaid she had ever seen. That beauty began to slide and warp before her eyes as muscle tone and epithelial strength failed. Glasya’s eyes were drooping and her unearthly-high cheekbones fell like an old lady down the stairs.
Split seconds passed as Quen’die was treated to the exhibit of a dissolving demoness. Her bronzed skin went from ashen-blue to oily-black in that instant. Without a word, she was nothing more than the same reeking puddle that Stolas was rendered days ago by Venn’lith’s demonic beau.
Glasya’s slag dripped from the arced blade in Tam’laa’s fists. The maidens were paralyzed by each other’s presence in the context of the alien structure; it’s alien dimension. “Dee! Maiden, are you okay?”
Tam’laa Na’rundi was always a welcome sight to Quen’die’s eyes. In all honesty, she was a good friend and not the fair-weather variety that Lauryl’la had proven to become. The maidens did have their differences, as did anyone, but when Tam’laa put her mind to her friendships, she did so with a gusto that sometimes took guts to maintain. In time, Quen’die would wonder how she would be able to manage to repay such devotion, but the type of friend like this gold elf would not take count.
“Gods! Tam!” Quen’die shrieked with joy and surprise. “What? How?”
“Eh…I followed you,” she answered her inevitable questions. “On’dinn and I had the great idea that iron kills these things off and that’s what we’ve been doing all morning. We had to make our way to the Sea and Shell to get extra food and, on our journey, we had to slice a couple of these moths. You should have seen On’dinn’s face when I stuck my first demon. He was so freaked out! Anyway, when we made our way home and saw Face’s coach with a big golem in the back and heaps of red hair in the front, we knew it was you and that you were up to something, so we followed you.”
“Tam, I, uh… Thanks!” the grey elf was at a loss for words to such an unexpected savior.
“Don’t mention it,” she petted her tight curls with a ginger touch, making sure not to sully them with Glasya’s dark remains. “You sure had some slick moves back there, maiden. I think I need to pick up a golem too!”
“Good luck with that,” Quen’die managed as she was still shaken. “But Tam, you gotta go! Mav is going to drive this thing back to his Home and get more angelics. It… It’s a long story and I’ll tell you all about it one day, but I have to get this going.”
“It’s all right,” she relented, not a bit hurt. “I know I sound like some character in a video game, but I think I can make my way back on my own.”
“Yeah, I know, right?” Quen’die chuckled. “I just hope I get the chance to play one again. By the way, tell Mav that the wards are off if you run into him on the outside. He’ll know what you’re talking about. Remember - the wards are off.”
As Tam’laa began to head off, she turned around. “Will do. I’ll let him know if I see him. As for you, I will see you again.”
The maiden wasn’t so sure of that. Quen’die was worried that the ark still held stragglers, but Tam’laa seemed to be able to handle herself rather well. As for On’dinn, she wasn’t quite convinced that he didn’t pull the snitch on her with the docks’ debacle. Maybe yes, maybe no, but it was a debate that had to be dealt with at a later date. Considering what horror had been revealed unto the world, would such adolescent bickering and blame even matter, she wondered?
Arrays of unknown technology twittering before her, the maiden concentrated on the cornet. It was her prime directive and she wanted Mavriel with her up there as soon as possible. “Right, C major to G major,” she informed the loneliness.
With her newfound musical knowledge, she rested her lips on the golden horn. It tasted as old as it looked, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For a second, she wondered which one of those demons had placed their mouths to it, but she blotted out those disgusting fears for the task at hand.
Blasts wracked the hull of the capstone chamber. The very fabric of the place shook with each tone burst. It was as if she hugged a brimming manafountain and let the power circuit loose through her body. It was an experience that was nothing less than shocking and she wondered if she did it wrong as she felt very uncomfortable.
Sound dispersed as if it were slow, creeping smoke. Mavriel had spoken of these wards, but she had no clue if her blows had deactivated them. She waited in the lonely tunes of the ark’s alien consoles for what seemed like years for her deva to arrive.
When the winged form burst into the chamber, Quen’die gasped in honest horror, as she wasn’t sure if the shadowy silhouette was friend or foe. Something stood before her that was black inside black and she recalled
her strange incident of the winged freak on the bluffs from what seemed almost a lifetime ago. Back when she wasn’t so old.
“Quen’die, you did it,” the warm familiarity informed her.
She ran toward her shadow and embraced him with relief. “Mav! I wasn’t sure if it worked and I didn’t know who you were! I…
“…please, I can’t move right now, just let me stay like this for a second, okay?” she bathed in his soft heat. It was the perfect recharge to her nerves.
“That’s fine, Dee,” he whispered. “Besides, I still need you around.”
“What?” she broke away. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re not done here. I kind of need you to come with,” he grimaced.
“Why? Why can’t I go back?” she almost hollered in frustration. She just wanted to hit a shelter and sleep right at that very moment.
Mavriel peered at the screens glowing over the consoles. “Look, ever since you were born, Ui rendered me deaf and mute to my brothers and sisters. I need for you to play the cornet again as they cannot hear any sounds I make. Once you do, they will all awaken from their stupor and realize that the infernals had done what they did.”
Her eyes widened with the awesome horror in knowing that she was to visit the realm of The Creator. “And let me guess, I need to tell them what happened too, right?”
She stomped the floor in her troubles. “Why can’t you just write it all down for them? Use sign language?”
Mavriel laughed at her salty wit. “Not so easy, I’m afraid. Believe me, I’ve tried it before. Everything I write is gibberish to the angels and we have no such thing as sign language.”
“Great,” the maiden slumped her head. “What about the other gods? Everybody knows that the angels work for the gods. What about them? Talk to them!”
“Oh, yeah,” Mavriel shot Quen’die a sheepish glance. “They are, uh, they’re long gone. I already hinted to you about that, but they are totally unable to help us. I’m probably not supposed to tell you that, but…”
“What!” she did scream this time. “How can they not help? I know they’re gone, but aren’t they in, like, the afterlife?”
Clutching his stony chin in deep thought, he ruffled through ways to inform the maiden of their nature. “Look, do you remember when Prince Stolas rebuked Cadreth for spawning with Lith? He was angered that their union produced a Merovai. A Merovai is the fruit made when our kind mates with yours. Your Twelve were all Merovai from ages ago right after our Rebellion, and they were just as you are, but immortal. Natural causes could not take them. Well, maybe they were a bit more powerful than the common elf, but…they could be killed either way. Every one of them had met unfortunate fates over the ages. The world is a dangerous place, you know.”
To that, Quen’die stared at the angel with business on her face. She studied him like he was a lab specimen as her eyes were locked onto his form. Her voice was just as matter-of-fact, but there was a hint of hunger in its tone. “So does that mean you and I can make babies one day?”
It was such an innocent, yet hopeful question, and quite a surprise to the deva and he blushed. Her sights failed to break as it demanded answers. “Well, technically, yes, Quen’die, but that would be a horrible idea. Please don’t take that the wrong way, I just mean that such a union is a matter of great power and responsibility and they don’t always come out…well, right. Some of them were of great deed to the world, like your so-called harvest god, but others like She’vashh were less than accommodating. He had brought great grief to the planet.”
In the gloom of the console-glows, the deva’s heart sunk. In matched time, Quen’die’s bottom lip fell as her eyebrows rose in utter disappointment. Yes, he loved her, but she loved him in such a way that was dangerous for him to reciprocate. That sort of temptation would be frowned upon back Home and it was more usual for the infernal variety to succumb to those impulses. “Basically, it’s an evil maneuver. Please, understand this. The Twelve should never have been and neither should Cadreth’s child one day be. I can only guess that the little lad will be quite formidable in his own way and hopefully, for the better.”
Tears were dripping down her face as she sniffed back the despondency. Mavriel couldn’t expect her to understand such a letdown as few priests on Earth could grasp the concept of the celestial/mortal pairings themselves.
Without a word, Quen’die ran into his trunk and squeezed. There was nothing left for him to do at that moment but savor what neither of them could have and console her as he tortured her with an inadvertent false hope. He hated that dynamic of emotions she had to suffer, but the consequences of indulgence would be nothing less than dire.
“It sucks that Lith gets to have a novion that can fly and I can’t,” she whispered. As foolish as it sounded out of his lovely ward, that statement meant more than anything to her at that instant. It was the simplest way of summing up her woe. “Heh, knowing that it’s Lith’s kid, I think we’re going to be in big trouble.”
“Quen’die,” he whispered as she sobbed quiet tears. “We have a job to do. I will be more than happy to talk to you about this later at length, but our time wastes.”
With reluctance, she pushed herself away and wiped her eyes like an elfling who had just lost her first goldfish. Mavriel loved how unaware of herself she looked. It might take years, he figured, but she would be able to cope with the sad arrangement he would have to dictate for them.
They made their way deep into the illuminated beds and orbs of what seemed to be the organic control arrays of the capstone chamber. Upon closer inspection, Quen’die was amazed at how the instruments appeared to grow out of the Ark’s walls instead of being merely installed. Some of the screens’ user interfaces looked quite familiar, as the maiden could distinguish and compare their layouts to the flight simulators used in her Astrophysical Navigation classes.
“Hey! That’s a Boolean trajectory, isn’t it? I know this stuff!” she squealed as she pointed to the glowing images. “That’s an astrophysical gimbal! And that’s just a plain old map of the galaxy. I’ve seen that a million times at school.”
With a grimy finger, she pointed with enthusiasm. “There’s the Little Dipper. There’s the Big Dipper, there’s stupid Aldebaran, and there’s the Scorpion! But…”
She frowned as she noticed the familiar map had a strange overlay appearing on top of it in a slow, ominous revelation. “But what’s this? I don’t recognize any of these systems.”
Mavriel cleared his throat with patience. “The bright map is your dimension, while the systems on the muted map are of my dimension. The Paradise systems are in blue and the infernal ones are in red.”
“Wow…,” she marveled with a wary tone at the secret knowledge before her eyes. “That’s a map of Heaven and the Nine?”
“The good and the bad,” Mavriel smirked. “I hate to cut this lesson short, but I have to pilot this big guy back to where it ought to be. Are you ready?”
Quen’die plopped down on a posh sofa surrounding the controls and nodded with a silent briskness. “Yeah, this should be fun, but aren’t I supposed to eat a bag of peanuts or something first? My professor at school says that if we don’t get the protein jolt before attenuating, we could spontaneously implode or something.”
The deva laughed with hearty gusto at her question to which Quen’die shot him a hurt frown. “No, that’s not necessary here. Let’s just say, we have mastered interdimensional travel long ago. We’ve pretty much narrowed it down to a perfect science by now.”
“Well, whatever,” she said as she scanned the chamber with bewilderment. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Stretching his alabaster wings which almost hit Quen’die in the head, Mavriel stood before a small pedestal that grew out of the floor without so much as a seam. Closing his eyes he began to emit a wonderful song that seemed too beautiful to come out of even his gorgeous mouth. Quen’die stared slackjawed at her interest as she had never heard such an amazing tune
from any elf in her life. At that moment, she wanted him more than ever, and, knowing that he forbade that sort of relationship, it hurt her heart again. “And he can sing…,” she lamented.
It was only a few notes, wonderful notes, but soon they reached their crescendo and the angel was once again silent in the room’s glow. With great pause, they both basked in the silence following it and the maiden had wondered later on if she had lost some time.
“Okay, here we are,” he quipped.
“What do you mean?” she responded with quick confusion.
Mavriel turned his form around to face hers. “We’re here. The trip is finished.”
“Bull!” she challenged as she shot herself to her feet. “I didn’t feel a thing. Stop joking with me!”
“No joke,” he said with a heavy gravity. “Heaven awaits right outside these walls.”
“Really?” she couldn’t believe the speed of their jaunt as her ears twitched to full height. “I can’t wait to see this place!”
“Oh, and you will wait, Dee,” he admonished. “Whatever you do, you can’t leave this ark or you won’t be able to come back. My Realm is a one-way trip, chosen or otherwise.”
She sighed in frustration. One disappointment after another filled this day. “Well, can’t I just take a peek out of the viewport?”
“Afraid not,” he chuckled at her persistence. “You could go blind or die, which brings us back to my first point of concern.”
“Oh, of course I can’t!” she hollered back with sarcasm. “This place sure has lots of rules, huh?”
“For the living, I suppose,” he gripped his chin. “But I need for you to do something right now.”
“Oh, yeah, the cornet,” she sighed, but out of impatience this time. “What do I play?”
“Play another G major. But make it loud and long. I need for the entirety of the choirs to awaken from their stupor,” the deva instructed. “I’ll go fetch my commanders and then you can tell them all about what happened. Be patient with them. Some of their kind can be rather…imposing.”
Long and loud, just as he had suggested, she sounded that note. In her mind she could only imagine the havoc and wonder of that unknowable dimension just beyond those walls. Ui was actually out there, she cheered deep inside. What did He look like in person, she couldn’t help but wonder? Myriads of angels just like her Mavriel were swirling and rushing about upon the sounding of her sonic blast.
When the maiden opened her eyes from the effort, she sucked in a gale of air. Mavriel had wasted not a moment as he was already gone from the chamber.
“Hey! Mav?” she poked her red head about in confusion. No response was given to her.
Without a delay, she crept over to the consoles and studied the ark’s alien technology. On one panel of the odd user interface, she recognized the symbols punctuated amongst the runes and sigils that formed the deva’s heavenly language in little time. One of the markings looked to be very close in shape and form to the earthly symbol for “open.”
From side-to-side, she double-checked to make sure no one was watching. Just one little peek out of the viewport before her couldn’t kill, she figured, even though Mavriel had claimed it just might. Seeing that the coast was clear, the maiden tapped her green-enameled fingernail on the glowing symbol.
Light unlike anything she had ever encountered shot through the chamber. It wasn’t white, golden, or incandescent or anything so mundane. If there was a color known as “clear,” that would have described it. Her throat was closing in shock as she could smell the stink of orange and almond assault each of her nostrils with intermittent bursts. Nothing was before her until the kaleidoscopic strobes of impulse blasted back and forth beneath her lids which she had shut with a tight force. The entire chamber was shuddering and she with it as if she were stuck in a flat spin.
