The Hall of Doors

by Phillip Locey

  “I was curious about those words, Palomar,” Thaelios said, brushing off his clothes with his hands as if they’d collected debris during their trip. “You and the other Celestials seemed to find Hiruth Jeshu’s countenance almost blinding, but that was not my experience.”

  “May His light shine forever,” one of the other Aasimar added.

  Palomar cocked his head sideways as his lower lip protruded. “What did you see, if I might ask?”

  “He looked, well, almost Eladrin, though his body was smooth and dark like polished obsidian.”

  “I saw a woman of astounding beauty, whose hair constantly changed as if to match the rapid passing of seasons,” Dyphina cut in. “I thought you were all crazy for not referring to her as ‘she.’ What did you see, Saffron?”

  “I, I saw a figure in metal armor, ornate and proud, though I suppose it could have been a man or a woman. It had wings like Palomar’s, with a halo of fire circling over its head. Was I the only one to see that?” Saffron asked.

  “Astounding,” said Palomar. “And you were all able to look directly at Him?”

  “Not I,” Be’naj offered. “He was surrounded by such a bright aura, I could only look long enough to see some movement from within.”

  “I noticed the two of you were having problems raising your eyes,” Thaelios said, “and it struck me as interesting to not have the same experience.”

  “It sounds like each of our experiences was different,” Dyphina asserted.

  “I have never known a mortal to stand in the presence of my Lord before. Perhaps He purposefully altered His appearance for your benefits. I trust Hiruth Jeshu, may His light shine forever, has His reasons.

  “From here we will travel on foot to the Rift, my friends. Before we do, we must visit the armory and make sure Rhazine is taken care of.”

  “I imagine she’s frustrated, being surrounded by people she cannot understand. But I cannot take the time to translate everything,” Saffron lamented.

  “Fortunately enough, the Ulimar who live here also use telepathy, and all Celestials are able to interpret the speech of others, if not verbally speak it. She will be able to converse at her leisure while we’re away.”

  Palomar thanked and dismissed the other Aasimar, who took flight and headed up the mountain. He led Be’naj and the others further into the village, knocking on the door of a modest abode, where they were greeted by an Ulimar named Grennald. The two held a private conversation, at the end of which Palomar bowed deeply and Grennald made room for them to enter his home.

  “Welcome, friends of the Mountain,” he projected at large. “Palomar saved me from a demon invasion years ago, and I am forever in his debt. I would be happy to host whomever wishes to stay, until he returns to fetch you.”

  Be’naj smiled and nodded, feeling awkward, and Saffron and Rhazine held a spirited conversation in Begnari. She assumed Rhazine had been able to catch Palomar’s half of previous conversations, but this was the first time the situation was being fully explained to her, and Rhazine seemed less than pleased.

  Whether she’d seen things beyond even the imaginings of her peers, she was still a child, after all. It would be unfair to put her in the kind of danger Be’naj assumed they may be seeking out, and in the end, Saffron seemed to scold her into agreement.

  “Rhazine will be happy to help with chores, or whatever service you may need in exchange for your hospitality,” Saffron announced while the sour-faced Begnari girl bit her lip. That settled, Saffron kissed Rhazine’s forehead and gave her a tender goodbye. Saffron took over her pack, and the others patted Rhazine’s shoulder or clasped her wrist awkwardly one-by-one, waving as they left her behind with the Ulimar.

  From there, Palomar led them down a narrow street away from the center of the village. Curious Celestials continued to stare and follow their progress, but all kept their distance, seemed to not want attention themselves.

  They were headed toward the base of the Mountain, and a large, open field with trampled grass stretched between them. Be’naj saw a collection of low, rectangular buildings come into view as they drew nearer, and a mixture of Ulimar and Aasimar hanging around them.

  “This almost looks like a military camp, Palomar,” Saffron said, a note of concern tinting her voice.

  “Yes. When the hordes of Yugoloth and Tanar-ri spill forth from the Rift, this is where the fighting begins. Usually, we’re able to contain them nearby, but sometimes there are too many and they spill past into the nearby villages.”

  “You’re saying that demons are able to penetrate Mount Celestia?” Be’naj asked.

  Palomar’s golden locks shook as he nodded, for he did not bother turning around to explain. “Only this layer, if we do our duty. There is a Planar Rift within the roots of the Mountain that cannot be sealed, even by the Celestial Lords. While it doesn’t lead directly to the Abyss, it joins a demi-plane adjacent to the Abyss, known as the ‘Doomwait,’ where demons can also gather. We have the distinct advantage when fighting on our own turf, but we’ll never match the sheer numbers of the enemy.”

  “That sounds horrible,” Dyphina said, and Be’naj had to agree.

  “It is an unfortunate reality that the struggle against evil is never-ending. There.” He pointed toward a nearby structure whose door was flanked by two, armed Aasimar. “We’re almost to the armory.”

  Though the same slanting sunlight shone evenly everywhere else on Mount Celestia, it was as if a heavy shadow hung over the field, sown into the air by the centuries of battles that had taken place there. The dimness in turned created a tension that something horrible or violent might happen at any moment, though the field was currently only occupied by Celestials on watch.

  Palomar nodded to the Aasimar flanking the doors of the armory, and whether he communicated with them telepathically or not, they each pulled open a heavy panel at the group’s approach. Inside was much brighter than where Be’naj stood, and entering the building showed her why. The armory was a wide, open hall filled with racks of armor and stands of weapons. The metal of the armor shined with a bright polish while the blades glowed with their own white light, pale but steady.

  “This place is amazing!” Be’naj said, in awe at both the number and quality of arms. Having trained with eladrin swords for much of her life, she had an appreciation for finely crafted weaponry. “What makes the blades glow like that?”

  “Some of the more powerful denizens of the Abyss are resistant to mundane weaponry,” Palomar explained. “Celestial weapons are all crafted with the essence of this plane infused into them. The Celestial Light is greatly feared by demonkind.”

  Be’naj stepped closer to an array of arming swords and reached out. “May I?’ she asked, looking back at Palomar before actually touching one.

  “Certainly. We are here to arm ourselves against the darkness. You may each take a weapon of your choosing. Unfortunately, I don’t think any of the armor would fit.”

  Be’naj took hold of the hilt in front of her and lifted the sword from its rack. It felt lighter in her hands than the weapon she’d lost in the sandstorm, but perhaps that was because she hadn’t held such weight in days. The blade was unequivocally more beautiful. She walked a few paces deeper into the armory to give herself room, then swung the sword in different arcs in front of her. The Celestial steel left motes of white light in its wake as it sliced through the air, and Be’naj could scarcely believe she was receiving such a precious gift. “I will wield this in the cause of justice, I promise,” she spoke aloud, though not directed at anyone.

  When she turned back to the group, she found the others had all claimed weapons as well, even the slender Thaelios. He’d chosen a dagger; Dyphina, a curved blade nearly twice the length of her fellow apprentice’s. Saffron executed jabs with a spear, a slightly oversized shield balancing her left arm, and Palomar was fastening a breastplate of bright alloy around his chest.

  Be’naj nodded, feeling braver than she had in a while, ready to do batt
le with whatever awaited them in the Abyss. “We are going to succeed in our mission, I can feel it.” Saffron nodded, then straightened and placed the butt of her spear against the floor.

  “Are we ready, then?” Palomar asked as he strapped the harness of a greatsword over his shoulder and between his wings.

  “As ready as can be expected,” Dyphina answered, her tone failing to mirror the confidence Be’naj felt.

  “Then we should head to the Abyssal Rift. Learning not to linger will serve us well once we’ve left the safety of the Mountain.”

  Be’naj and her troupe followed Palomar through the rest of the war camp, which ended close enough to the Mountain that her entire field of vision was taken up by its slopes. A huge cave opening, roughly triangular in shape, gaped like a misshapen mouth in the rock. Palomar continued straight toward it.

  “Is this the Rift?” Saffron asked within a few steps of where the shadow deepened into true darkness.

  “No. This is merely the tunnel to it. You can use your weapons to see by. ”

  Be’naj noticed Palomar didn’t seem to need his. Saffron’s spear tip was already naked, but Be’naj felt better when Dyphina unsheathed her sword to add to its light. She looked up as they passed from open sky into a world of cavernous stone. She couldn’t spot a ceiling, but the air underneath it felt dead. The unseen weight of the entire Mountain loomed above her – it created a sort of pressure, if only in her mind. She unfurled her wings for a moment, just to be sure she still had the room to do so.

  They didn’t walk completely straight, but it was hard to tell direction, given she couldn’t see any landmarks except the worn, rock floor beneath her. “How far does it go?” she finally said, her voice sounding strange in the still, heavy air.

  “We are not far,” Palomar answered.

  Sure enough, as soon as his thought was expressed, Be’naj heard a slight humming. She assumed it came from ahead, since she hadn’t heard it prior, but it was impossible to be sure. A dim, blue glow came into view a spear’s throw beyond Palomar, allowing her to make out the contour of a jagged stone wall rising from the floor. As she continued closer, a crackling joined the hum, and the light grew to outshine their weapons once they rounded the corner.

  Before her, a scar of energy – indigo and black battling one another in a chaotic dance – marred the rock face behind it. Cracking and popping like a cauldron of captured lightning, the scar was more than three times Palomar’s height and even wider across. Be’naj didn’t have to ask: this was the Abyssal Rift. Just being within sight of it made the tiny hairs on her arms stand at attention.

  “We’re supposed to go into that?” asked Thaelios.

  “If you’re still resolute on reaching the Abyss, then yes. It is a serious thing, I know, and you should have fair warning about what to expect – which is to say, anything.” Palomar turned his back to the Rift, which outlined his winged silhouette in a wreath of dark energy. “As Hiruth Jeshu said, may His light shine forever, the Abyss is strongly aligned with Chaos, but also Evil. Things won’t necessarily make sense to the ordered mind. Don’t waste time trying to figure out what appears incongruous.”

  “Is everyone there an enemy?” Be’naj asked, reflexively tightening the grip on her sword.

  “Potentially, but that doesn’t mean you should attack indiscriminately. Not every creature is hostile by nature, even if they can’t be trusted. We’re not entering the Abyss directly, after all. The Rift will take us to a demi-plane where many beings from the Outer Planes travel, though often on their way to the Abyss. Do not place faith in anyone not with you now, no matter how beguiling an offer of friendship.” Palomar placed his hands on his hips and spent a moment considering them.

  “Be’naj and I will stick out with our Celestial heritage. That will make us both targets and rightly feared. Your weapons will give you away, too, if their light is laid bare. Bluffing anyone with suggestions of alliance will be a difficult strategy to execute. Any questions before we begin the journey?”

  Be’naj’s head swam with them, but she knew most could only be adequately answered through first-hand experience. She was placing her faith in Shecclad and her friends to help her manage whatever came next. I have friends, she realized, looking around their small group. That was certainly new, and something she wouldn’t have dreamt of a season ago. “I’m ready,” she said, since no one else seemed eager to speak.

  “Then follow me into the Rift, and I’ll see you in the Doomwait.” Palomar made an “X” with his arms across his chest and stepped into the scar of energy, vanishing with a loud crackle.

  “I don’t know that I’m ready for this,” Dyphina said as soon as the echo of the Aasimar’s departure faded. “I want to help, but…”

  “We will be there with you,” Saffron comforted. “You will be protected.”

  “Yes, Dyphina. And you don’t want to pass up the chance to rub this adventure directly in Illiana’s face when we get back to the Perch, do you?” Thaelios winked and her, drawing out a smile. As if to show there was nothing to worry about, he stepped into the Rift next and disappeared.

  Be’naj swallowed hard; Dyphina’s hesitation had summoned up the severity of the moment, but Thaelios’s unexpected courage solidified that she couldn’t abandon course now. She stepped forward to fully commit, then realized the wisdom in making sure the other’s doubts were conquered first. “Dyphina, are you ready?”

  “I’m … I’m not sure.”

  Be’naj was thinking of what she might say next, but Saffron beat her by shifting her spear to her shield hand, then taking Dyphina’s in hers. “Come, we’ll step through together,” she said, looking straight into the half-fey’s eyes. She was half-human, too, Be’naj reminded herself. That was a connection she and Saffron would never share. Be’naj bit her tongue, watching as the women’s hands tightened around one another.

  Saffron looked back at her and nodded, causing a few strands of dark hair to fall over her eye. “I’ll see you on the other side.” Saffron smiled and then stepped forward, leading Dyphina into the Rift. They vanished in a pair of offset pops of entropic energy.

  Be’naj was alone in the darkness, under the immeasurable weight of Mount Celestia. She hadn’t bothered to unsheathe her weapon; the discordant Abyssal Rift was bright enough for her to still see the fingers at the end of her hands, though they looked like someone else’s. The dark light turned her normally pale skin a hue of blue like the first hour of nightfall.

  Memories of the severe loneliness she felt during her long exile washed over her, causing her muscles to lock in place, preventing her from following Saffron into the Rift. Be’naj shut her eyes and clenched her hands into fists. “No, this is real,” she announced to the darkness. “Saffron cares for me, and I won’t leave her. I won’t give up.”

  Opening her eyes, she felt the tightness in her arms and legs relent, subdued by her will. She exhaled deeply and put one foot in front if the other, entering the hungry portal …

  This time, she felt like she was expanding from the inside out. Her body stretched and swelled, while the cacophony of crackling energy and strobe of flashing darkness overwhelmed her other senses. The passage was not instantaneous – she felt a strange sort of momentum pushing her forward, though she had no landmarks to reference actual travel. She closed her eyes to reduce the onslaught of stimulation. The noise stopped suddenly, and Be’naj opened her lids to find her friends near her once more.

  “That wasn’t so bad, all told,” Thaelios mused, patting himself down as if making sure he was still whole.

  They were no longer underground, but it was still dark – not absolutely pitch as it had been in the tunnel beneath the Mountain, nor even as dim as a moonless night, but a uniform grey like the sun was separated by a solid blanket of rainclouds. Looking up, Be’naj could find neither atmosphere nor the heavens beyond. What passed for sky was simply a boundless expanse of depressing smog. The Abyssal Rift still hummed and crackled behind her, casting its
bluish-black light.

  “Ellingle once told me of a semi-cooperative sage that resides on this plane. He spends much of his time in a tavern, chronicling, and will sometimes assist travelers with information for like payment. I suggest we start there.” Palomar spread his wings and leapt into the air, rising to hover a few body lengths above the ground as he scanned the horizon in every direction.

  He pointed before descending, and though Be’naj followed the direction of his finger with her gaze, the pervasive haze prevented her from distinguishing anything more than the vague aura of distant lights.

  “Sounds good enough for me,” Saffron said. She held her spear in front of her like a lamp pole, though its light didn’t extend far into the thick air. She walked side-by-side with Palomar. Be’naj took up the rear, listening for signs of danger and regularly peeking over her shoulder. The ground was unnaturally flat and didn’t seem to consist of dirt or stone. No grass or plants grew, either; the terrain was simply grey and featureless.

  “Ellingle said a collection of dwellings had risen up not far from the Rift, and I’m fairly sure that’s what lies ahead. The locals refer to it as Anarchiapolis, but she thinks that’s mostly in jest. It is not a true city. The tavern the sage typically haunts is there, though – a place called ‘The Three Branches.’ It shouldn’t be far.”

  Given the environment, it was exceedingly difficult to track the passage of time, but what seemed like less than an hour later, Be’naj heard sounds from ahead. The light had grown brighter, too. The noises were repetitive. Creepy grinding of metal, shuffling of leather, chopping of wood, but no voices. It seemed as though they were nearing a village occupied by ghosts, where all the tools functioned without need for labor, and carts meandered through the streets without being pulled.

  The lights turned out to be torches, and as they drew nearer, she could make out the flames of a few. Those further away remained orange halos blurred by the haze. The torches hung in sconces on the sides of buildings constructed from an indeterminate material. No obvious signs of timber or mortared stone revealed their nature, and though clearly solid, the shapes of walls and doors were irregular and haphazard.