by Max Jager
"Well, it is Hell after all. There's only one way." The Hyena almost laughed at the claim. "What did you expect?"
"What did I expect?" Ajax said. "If I expected anything I wouldn't have come down here."
"But you did."
"Great idea that was. They should give me a fucking Nobel." He kicked his helmet away from him. "I didn't want to be an ambassador."
"If we all knew what trouble would come to us at every moment, who would find the courage to do anything?" The Hyena. "I reckon they'd be too afraid to get out of the cover of the bed."
"You're damn right they would be." Ajax snickered, a little high pitched too, the noise you'd find in an Asylum perhaps. "Especially if they knew they'd be in another plane of existence, in a fucking desert, with a bunch of walking Roman corpses chucking spears at them."
"You're right. And then no one would do anything in the face of danger. And if people did nothing. If they held their breath upon every terror that came their way, nothing would change." The Hyena sneered. "That'd be pretty boring, don't you think?"
"I hope for boring. I would kill for boring. Boring is a godsend in this godless place."
"Well, there's the price for making a decision. They're not always all good. But at least they're yours."
"Yeah, mine." Ajax took his sword out of the dirt. "These great decisions of mine."
"That's free will for. Surprise, suffering, freedom."
"Fuck surprise. Fuck suffering. Fuck freedom."
The Hyena's tail straightened. His face became unusually stern, his snout tight. He walked to Ajax.
"Freedom is everything. Take it away and you're left with machine men with machine hearts who pump that cold oil through their mechanical bodies. Who live only to exist." He looked up to Ajax. "Don't be mad now, that for the first time in your life you're beginning to feel what it means to be a free man."
"Free? When have I ever been free?"
"You were a slave before." The Hyena said. "To your church, to your philosophy." He paused. "To your teacher and your friend."
Ajax winced.
"And now, for the first time in a long time you've made your own decision. And you want to take it back all of a sudden? Because it hurts a little? Because it's a little awful?" The Hyena kicked dirt to the corpse of Half-face.
"This isn't just awful. It's insane."
"It's a test, nothing more. A test to see how easy you break and how easy you fix. And if it's too much for you, go ahead and take that little cup in your back pocket and get out." He said. "Because if you can't move forward, you were never meant to."
The air blew across and pushed smoke away. Ajax saw the road ahead, the many bodies still waiting. Some of them, with their chests still breathing low and steady. He put his blade to his side, sighed and walked ahead.
"You're such an asshole, you know that."
"From you? That's a compliment."
Ajax shook his head, rubbed his scalp with his free hand and walked through the mounds of bodies. He picked out a helmet from the dead, a nice shiny one if there was ever one. It was lean, oval and came down on his nose bridge snug. It blocked the light from the top and made it easier to see the empty expressions of the corpses past him. Most of them, demons. Some, some few, humans. He spent a lot of time killing them, for all had nothing left of them but a painful death. It was mercy.
He sucked in his breath. His face showing a renewed resilience.
He came upon a demon with his body hunched over, two spears through his chest. He was fatigued, still breathing and screaming. And he faced a direction, a trail of footsteps that wandered into the cactus and Joshua tree forest to his rear. He looked back to the pinned figure, the demon spitting and coughing at him. Below the legionnaire, some unidentifiable flesh. He was eating - No, cannibalizing, mindlessly and baking in the sun. Ajax had nothing to say. A thank you, for the road, perhaps? No. A farewell. And a welcome, a message maybe, for Astrix or any other legionnaire.
Ajax picked up a gladius sword to his rear. He raised it high and brought it low.
The spears pinning the demon to the floor vibrated. They made a desperate rattle and shook for minutes. Then, stillness.
"I thought you'd let them suffer?" The Hyena said.
"That wouldn't be proper." Ajax jumped up to the steep hill. He grabbed a cactus and felt a prickle. He looked at his hand, to the small dribble, like a red pearl. The wound did not close, but he did not stop. The trail was hot, fresh and he knew there was someone, or something, at its end.
Darr IV
Darr
The bars hurt Darr's hands when he punched them. Indented them. Made them cry and shake in the silence of the room.
It had finally been enough for Darr. Having to come into the room, having to see the bitter and anxious face of Aleistar, a face torn between anger at his circumstances and reflective on his future death. And it was Darr who made him think and feel this way. It was him who had brought that chill of death. Brought it down on the bars, the little cage as Astrix called it. Over and over and over again until the room was filled with the sound of slapping metal. Pummel after pummel, a successive beat of blows that had stung his knuckles.
"Stop. Stop." Aleistar screamed. Darr looked down to his knuckles, the flesh was out, his bone exposed. His wounds were regenerating and opening at the same rate and all he could see was a distinct pink and white where bone and muscle was trying to replace itself. He looked at the bars. Only small dents, scratches, here and there and blood that stained and that evaporated.
"Why should I?" Darr clenched his fist again. He pushed against the cage. It rose. Aleistar hung to the bars as they did and collapsed to the floor as Darr let go. Like a pinball machine, and Darr the angry player.
"Did you stop?" Darr grabbed the prison again. He put both hands forward and pushed with his knees, against the floor, shoulders forward. He could hear the metal scratch the floor as he dragged the box across and slammed it into a wall.
"Hear me out," Aleistar screamed. "Stop."
Darr reached his hand inside the bars. He tried fitting himself, body and all, through the gaps. With one hand outstretched he waved wildly inside. Aleistar hugged the wall and waited there.
Every now and then, Darr would switch, chase him from another side, make him run inside his little cell. It went on for hours before he gave up.
"What's this made out of?" Darr mumbled to himself. He sat on his hams, a look of defeat on his face.
"Harder than any metal you've ever seen. They mine it from the third circle, you idiot." Aleistar wheezed. He was gasping, bent over. His head was a mess of stray hairs.
"Shut up. No one asked you." Darr kicked the cage. There was an audible yelp from Aleistar, a bit high strung and tired.
Darr looked around. His eyes were red, two giant balls of anger.
"I should go out." Darr was smiling to himself. Aleistar could hear his ramblings, forced to hear them. "I should go out and kill that guard. Take his spear, yeah, yeah! And I'll…I'll!"
He made a stabbing motion with his hands.
"They'll kill you fool, as soon as you do. And then you won't save anyone." Aleistar shouted.
"I can fight it out. I'll take them all out."
"No. You won't." Aleistar pleaded. "Revenge or freedom, you can't have both. Not at the same time."
Darr looked around his cell, out the window, around the walls, almost confused.
"Maybe I'll just take his deal. If it means killing you, at least. I can tolerate Hell. I can live with it."
"For how long?" Aleistar bargained. "Eternity is a very, very long time. How long do you think you'll last before you become as insane as him?"
He pointed to the drawing of Astrix on the wall.
"You? You're talking about insanity?" Darr rushed to the cage. "How many people did you have killed? How many bled to death, offered to your little demon god?"
"It...It wasn't like that."
"How else could it be? Huh?" He punched the cage
. The whole room seemed to shake. The font in the corner of the room vibrated. "It wasn't your hand that gutted the poor girl? It wasn't your words that riled a cult of freaks? How many dead? Do you even remember them?"
Outside they could hear the shuffling of the guard, a large heavy sound as if a sentinel had just awoken from his thousand year slumber. A soldier of clay, of metal, of little humanity. He peeked inside, took a glance at the two and smiled. Yes, they were at it again, he must have thought and enjoyed it. Darr looked back at him, glared at him. He hadn't worn a different face since and it began to worry Darr, only a little, if he would ever be able to take off his frown again.
The guard closed the door. Darr looked around, the small pots of flowers hanging by the sides of pillars in the corners of the room. A table with a long-faded candle whose smoke still filled the air with a strange scent, a bit fruity, a bit like incense too. Burning oranges. Can I wear this face forever? Darr thought. With him?
On a table, where the candle burned, a dribble of wax came down and onto the floor. It hardened immediately.
Can I live here forever? Darr thought. Astrix did. And look at him. Look at all the things he feels or thinks or does.
It made him nervous to look at Aleistar again. He felt it down in his stomach like a full bladder.
"It was a mutual ritual. I was lead to believe that I was purifying these men and women, bringing them somewhere closer to God, you see. God, for fuck's sake!" Aleistar threw his arms in the air.
Darr sat. His whole body felt weighed. Morose.
"You thought," He almost laughed. "You thought killing someone would purify them?"
"Yes, well, I was lead to believe it. He told me, he said - "
"He told you but you did it. Thinking and saying and acting are all different things. You can think all the things you want, but finding the strength to do them. That's something else."
"Listen! My wife was dead. My second-born, dead. I had to, it was for them - "
"And think of all the children you killed. All the mothers and the fathers you stole. All the families, ruined. And you..You, who created the very misery that brought you ruin."
"Some of them…some of them… They were!" He bit his tongue and paused. "They were criminals. Murderers, rapists."
"Shut up." Darr stomped on the floor. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."
Once again the room was filled with that decisive silence. And once again both were left to their own corners, like boxers in the ring. A stack of books besides the bed entertained Darr with their bright covers and their tails for bookmarks. They did, at least, up to a point. Darr opened one. He saw scratches, weird glyphs, and pictures. Some strange, some horrific. He felt his head hurt and he threw the books aside. It hit one of the pots on the pillar. Something of a vase of roses. He walked over to it and looked at the dirt all spread out on the floor. He could see worms, maggots even amongst the shattered clay and bruised green stems. He knelt. Then stood again for Aleistar.
"Why'd you do it?" Darr said. His voice sounded easy and steady. "What compels a man to do all this?"
Aleistar sunk a bit. His bearded face brushing against the metal. He gripped his rags and pulled them down a bit. His scarred collarbone showed.
"I did it for love." He said. "A love for a family I lost. That's it."
"I won't even ask how much you loved them. I know it." Darr walked back to the cage. "The whole city knows it, experienced it."
"I'm sorry. He told me, he said it." Aleistar articulated with his hands. "He promised me they would get fixed. The broken, he called them. The pedophiles and the rapists and the murderers I helped kill. I swear it started like that. Out of pity, out of hope."
"Then you killed children. Why?"
"Astrix asked for it. He's the one who demanded it. For the ritual, he said. But I promise you! I promise we went for orphans, the sick, the decrepit. The kids with no future." Aleistar was crying, though he didn't notice it. Maybe it was just second nature at this point. "He said he'd deliver them unto God. He said they would live eternally in peace. It was a compassionate euthanasia!"
Darr wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear this man's head off. He could feel his hands shaking, his pupils dilating, his nape going cold. He felt inside his pocket. What was in there? Something sharp?
Nothing he would show today. He removed his hand and took a breath. In, out. What does the scripture say, Darr? Of those who throw stones. What does it say? If I loved as hard as he did, would I have done it?
He couldn't answer. But he couldn't attack either.
"What was originally planned with all the blood and bodies? What did you want from Astrix that could have only been done through a black Sabbath?"
"Well, does it even matter?" Aleistar's face was low, his body against the wall and bars behind him. The standing torches inside the room shook, waved, then fixed themselves and through the embers, Aleistar's face was lit. Nothing more. The rest of him was in a kind of shadow made by the lowered ceiling and the covered windows.
There was a wind. It blew out some of the curtains and subsequently, some light.
"I thought. With his cup, that we could summon him. Bring him to earth. That's what I hoped. And then from there…"
"The cup doesn't work like that. Hell doesn't work that way. He's marked. There's no going out for him."
They spoke of course, of a branding neither had, as they were living dead. In a way.
"I know that now." Aleistar slapped his forehead. "He was supposed to come up there and raise the dead. He was supposed to bring us all into a kind of rapture. Just us, just the chosen."
"Well, he brought you somewhere. Didn't he?"
"Yes. Yes, he did." Aleistar could barely talk.
Again silence. They both sat around, fiddled with their fingers and their feet and let the hot breeze outside cool them. Darr was the first to break the silence.
"I heard you were a Doctor."
"I was a licensed therapist," Aleistar mumbled.
Darr sat on the bed. A bit easier, his shoulders less strained, his chest less winded.
"How'd someone as smart as you get duped? I thought you'd know everything about liars and psychopaths."
"I guess I was desperate. Sad and desperate." He said. "When you see a miracle performed in front of your eyes, when you see countless acts of magic. When that same miracle-giver promises you hope and family, how can't you see them as the next coming of Christ? No one can resist that."
"I can see it, I guess," Darr said. "Magic is hard to do."
"So there are others, huh?"
"Not many. But there are a few practitioners, yes." Darr walked up to him. "But I'm not one of them. So don't ask."
It didn't matter. Aleistar had lost hope long ago. He slumped down on his metal bars.
"Must be an interesting world you live in. Huh," Aleistar rubbed his eyes. "I wouldn't know. I don't know. Not anything, not a thing. And now I'm even less than stupid. I'm alone now. My baby dead, wife dead." He paused. His voice choked. "My son, dead."
Darr let him weep a bit on the floor. Only a moment, that's all he would give him.
"I can't forgive you. You know that, right?" Darr put both hands on his sides and clenched his fists.
"I know."
"But at least I understand you." He said. They looked at each other for the first time it felt. Both of their eyes were weak, both of their heads were low. He didn't want to understand this man. But seeing his weak face, his spirit in a loss, he couldn't help but feel some kind of kinsmanship. It was a disgusting feeling, to be similar to someone so disgusting, to see how thin the fence line was between them. And worse. To imagine, somewhere along that fence of good and evil, to imagine a rotating door. Perhaps he was going to go through it, perhaps not. Perhaps it had bled into each other that each side didn't even matter.
There was a knock on the door.
"The king wants you." The voice said, a bit of a haughty voice. "Don't make him wait."
/> Darr stood.
"Tell me, Doctor," He breathed heavily. "What do you want now? After all is said in done, now that you're here. What do you want?"
Aleistar looked up. He pushed his head to the side in a slant.
"I want to stay here." He said. "I want to rot here and repent. I don't deserve oblivion, I don't deserve the peace of nothingness. I just want to be here. Forever and maybe, with an eternities worth of pain, I'd have suffered the price of what I've done."
The door opened. Herald burst in. Yelling, hurry, hurry. Screaming, you've made a mess. Fuming, in the throne room. Herald went over to the vase and began piling the pieces, fixing the dirt into a mound. Darr walked past him, towards the door. He heard a dying voice behind him.
