He nodded. “It’s hard to keep track of time but I know how. I can see when the sky is bright or when it’s dark. I feel the change in temperature from summer to winter.”
My eyebrows raised in surprise. The darkness was ever the same to me, bleak and oppressive. The temperature felt constantly hot. My sporadic intuition gave me a sense of a day’s passing when it worked, but that was the extent of it. “What color is the sky now?”
He looked up. “Afternoon. Dark comes soon. That’s when they hunt us most, when we look for food.”
“Ebriel, do you know this sphere well?”
“Yes. I have traveled to many different parts of the city. In all my years here I’ve only been caught three times,” he said proudly. “I escaped first two times on my own. You helped me this last time. I help you now. I heard you ask the fallen for directions. Where do you want to go?”
“I’m looking for the Akashic Halls. Have you heard of them?”
He shook his head. “What they look like?”
I smiled ruefully. “I can tell you what they once looked like. They were a series of buildings that were steepled, like this,” I said, straightening my hands and touching my fingertips together in the shape of a sharp triangle. “But enormous. They had many pointed arches.”
“I do not know these Akashic Halls. What were they near?”
“Let me think,” I said, pausing, searching through my memory. “I believe the Golden Cathedral was on the same tier. Have you heard of it?” He shook his head. “What about the Great Coliseum?”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s near the coliseum?”
“Yes.” My voice rose in excitement. “It was in the same district.”
“I know the coliseum.”
“Excellent! How do I get there from here?”
“There is only way to the coliseum. You fight and kill your way in. Only the best end up there.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I don’t think you understand. I’m not here to fight in the coliseum, I simply need to know its whereabouts,” I told Ebriel.
“It is very far. I don’t know which way or what direction. The only way to get to the coliseum is to fight your way in. The fallen will take you there if you fight and win. The regent is where you need to go. I’ll take you there.”
“What is the regent?”
“Market. A big one. You fight in the arena there like you fought the fallen here,” he said, pointing to the dead bodies. “They take you to coliseum.”
I paused. I had no intention of fighting in any arena. But if the fallen in this regent knew the location of the coliseum, then it was where I needed to be. Also, a market sounded appealing at the moment. I could use some fresh food and drink. “Very well. Let us go to the regent.”
“I know the way but it is far. Normally, it takes two days, maybe three. But I know how to get there faster. Much faster. How much gold do you have?”
I frowned. “I don’t have any.”
Ebriel scurried over to where the fallen lay. He rummaged through their belongings and pulled free three small purses. He opened each one and counted out the contents.
“Here.” He tossed two of the bags over to me.
I opened them, counting twelve gold coins in all.
“I keep this one, yes? Seven coins here,” said Ebriel, holding up the third bag.
I nodded. The fourth sphere had used stamped gold coins as its form of currency, a practice developed eons ago. It appeared some residue of this once great civilization still remained.
“Good. Follow me. Not too far. I know a shortcut.” Ebriel sped down the road, hunched over, occasionally using his hands to steady himself as he ran. He kept to the shadows.
I took to the air and followed him from above. I tucked the purses into a satchel I found two days ago when sifting through the rubble looking for street signs. It contained a loaf of bread and a flagon of rancid juice.
We continued on for several hours when a group of fallen swerved towards me. Ebriel immediately vanished within the shadows below. The fallen held their torches out in one hand and short spears in the other. I counted six in all.
I waved to them offhandedly as they flew in closer. The fallen in the lead threw me a curt nod and the group banked off. It wasn’t the first time I was mistaken for a fallen since arriving in this sphere. After all, who else would be flying over this forsaken wasteland?
Ebriel reappeared from the shadows, waved up at me, then moved on. He stopped several hours later then motioned me to come down. I descended.
“We are here,” he said triumphantly.
I threw him an incredulous look. I had scanned the area from above. There was no market to be found anywhere. There was nothing save the dreary and endless ruins.
“I see no market,” I told him, trying to keep the impatience from my voice. It didn’t work.
He smiled, amused. “Regent is down below. City is down below. Only rats and other food live above.”
* * *
Hunched over, I followed Ebriel into a small tunnel. Darkness swallowed me. I pulled my flaming sword free an inch from its sheath to shed enough light for me to see by. Ebriel shied away from the sword, his eyes wide in fright. I could see questions on his face but I was in no mood to answer them. “Lead on,” I told him.
He nodded and continued down the tunnel. It descended in a spiral as we moved deeper before leveling off and opening up. I no longer had to crouch and we walked side by side in silence for another two hours.
“Regent not far now,” said Ebriel, grinning. “See, I took you above ground. It’s a shortcut. Less than one day my way. Two or three days walk if we came through the tunnels.”
I stopped abruptly, hearing voices up ahead and other sounds.
“Don’t stop now. We’re almost there.” He picked up his pace.
I followed warily. The tunnel expanded. Light shone from up ahead. I shielded my eyes, unused to the sudden luminance.
It opened into what could only be called a main thoroughfare.
A huge street appeared before me running left and right. Carts moved up and down the rutted streets, pulled and pushed by beasts. Lamp posts rose from the sidewalks every ten paces, the torchlight brilliant. Fallen swaggered up and down the road. Only a few were garbed in armor, most were not. Dressed in bright colors and flowing robes, they would have passed as angels if not for their blackened and veined wings.
Houses, buildings, and structures of all sorts lined the streets and sidewalks, rising up and melting back into the shadows. The construction oozed craftsmanship, complete with engraved wooden doors, glass windows, and tiled roofs of perfectly cut slate. Intricate arches and columns rose throughout. Alleys and side streets intersected the main avenue, also lit and heavily populated.
I blinked, astonished that the city had survived underground. It almost looked like a district at night before the fall. Only the rough hewn ceiling thirty paces above the boulevard disrupted the illusion.
Smells assaulted me; roasted meats, fresh bread, cooked delicacies, and perfumes mixed harshly with the smell of refuse and rotting animals. The sounds of the traffic in motion bustled loudly.
“This way.” Ebriel tugged on my arm. I followed him down a sidewalk. I passed fallen dressed in colorful finery, with hair in woven braids and beards encrusted with jewels. They nodded politely in my direction. I found myself unexpectedly greeting them back.
Ebriel stopped at the first vendor we saw. A large figure, bordering on rotund, busily flipped skewers of roasted meats above a small pit of smoldering embers. Two wingless were chained to a pole next him, huddled together.
“We don’t serve your kind,” the vendor spat at Ebriel.
“What kind do you serve?” I stared coldly.
The vendor looked at me with initial disdain. His eyes roamed my gilded armor before his features melted into a welcoming grin. I felt defiled. “Young master, forgive me my old eyes. I did not see you. Would you care for some delicacies? The meat is fresh, caught only th
is morning.”
“I don’t eat meat,” I said, my stomach souring.
“How about some wine then?”
“I don’t drink wine either.”
Ebriel pulled out two gold coins. “I eat meat. Drink wine too.”
The vendor quickly snatched them up and offered four skewers wrapped in cloth and a small flagon of wine.
Ebriel began to eat hungrily. The smacking sounds of his lips revolted me.
We continued down the main avenue, Ebriel staying close to my side. I could see why. Wingless and beasts were not welcome here, and were treated with violent disdain. Any creature unattached to a fallen was either kicked or shoved aside. One was caught stealing food by a fallen guard and hoisted away, his shrieks deafening before he was pummeled into silence.
We crossed a wide stone bridge over an underground river. Debris and refuse swirled in the brown eddies. The stench was horrific. A few dead creatures bobbed face-down.
I stared, mortified. The city, so alive upon first seeing it, was like a corpse of a beautiful lady, pretty at first but dead inside.
I walked among a twisted parody of the culture that it mimicked. Is this all the fallen could accomplish? A perverse and broken reflection of perfection?
We crossed the bridge, my mood sour. Ebriel continued to lead the way.
“There,” he said, pointing. “Regent.”
I stared at the market square. A more vile place I could not imagine. Negativity and disharmony seeped from it like stink from dung. The coarse vibrations were so powerful and vile even my sporadic intuition sensed it with ease.
Throngs of fallen crowded the square. The noise was deafening. Criers and hawkers shouted over each other. Drums and musical instruments from all quarters competed vainly with one other for attention and the reward of an occasional tossed coin. Haggling was loud and volatile, often breaking into arguments or an occasional scuffle. Dancers and jugglers flitted in-between moving packs or flew above, spitting fire and performing feats or acrobatics in the air, bouncing off the stone ceilings and sometimes colliding.
Smells of perfumes, oils, rot, and decay assaulted me and I snorted. I was still not accustomed to the harsh odors. Before the fall, the only rot and decay could be found on the physical plane. There was no decay in the astral spheres. The vibratory energies from discarded objects were simply transmuted back into the ether or into new creations. After the fall, everything changed. Even the smell was a casualty of the war.
Wares and foods and drinks of all types lined the streets on blankets, carts, stalls, tables and an occasional storefront. Most of the wares looked like loot scavenged from the ruins above; cups, saucers, pottery, paintings, sculptures, rugs, and various pieces of furniture. Jewelry was displayed, not on tables, but on wingless slaves painted sloppily with rouge and lipstick. Some would even have been attractive if not for their visible misery. Angered, I avoided looking at them, a low boil simmering in my stomach.
I pushed through the crowd, staying close to Ebriel. An auction blocked my path. The large group had their hands raised towards a high platform, voices shouting. I moved to go around them, my eyes drawn to the focus of their attention.
I stopped cold.
Creatures, their bodies bruised and swollen, stood naked on a stage. A few had tails and one had horns. They were chained together, heads downcast. Some looked like children.
“You’ll not find better than these for housework and personal servitude!” the auctioneer shouted. He was a fat fallen, his robes stained, a whip in one hand and a prodding stick in the other. He moved from one pathetic creature to the next, using his stick to bend them, twist them, lift their arms, and beat them. He’d pull out a charcoal stick and mark their foreheads when one was sold.
“Our next group is perfect for heavy labor.” He shuffled in another group, four in all, chained together. They were large and brawny, one was scaled and another had hooves for feet. “You’ll not find better demons anywhere.”
Demons.
The literal translation was ‘evil spirits’. The anger boiling in my stomach churned. I sensed the souls trapped in these deformed bodies. They were like the wingless – returned fallen. All were once angels, divine children of God. Who was this fat fallen to judge them as evil? Surely they were less evil than he.
“Is this one for sale?” A hand grabbed my arm. My legs weakened. My breath shortened. The anger in my stomach turned into a boiling desire. I faced the figure who held my arm.
She was breathtakingly beautiful; her face sublime, her cheeks delicate and her eyes inviting. She was a fallen, of that I had no doubt. Black gossamer cloth covered her curves, her hips, and accentuated her wings.
Painful arousal stirred deep within me like I had never felt before. It was primal and hedonistic. I needed to say something to her. Something clever, something that would make her desire me as much as I desired her in that moment…
“Unhand me, strumpet!” I hissed, my voice harsh.
The haze clouding my reasoning vanished. I recoiled from the hand touching me as if it were a viper.
She blinked in surprise. Her eyes turned cold and her face contorted with rage at her spurned advances. Then her lips curved back wickedly, her eyes alighting anew. “Oh this one is strong, sisters.”
More hands touched me. They stroked my arms, my shoulders, my face. The world spun. My legs buckled. Desire flooded me. I could not think, could not act. I had only one choice, one action I could perform. Succumb. I must succumb and surrender.
“Enough!” I cried.
A blast of energy exploded from me. Those surrounding me scattered backwards radially as if I were the center of the storm. Dozens slammed to the ground, their faces shocked, their bodies spilling and tumbling. The fallen temptresses stared at me from the ground, eyes terrified, their true faces hideous.
I felt like myself again. My anger returned in full fury. How dare they? How dare they touch me? How dare they deprave me?
My stern gaze raked the fallen on the ground. Destroyers. Warmongers. Enslavers. Seducers. Sinners all.
What good were any of them? What worth did they bring to anything? They only knew how to destroy, to pollute, to break down what others toiled so hard to create. They were parasites. Leeches. They did not deserve to thrive. They did not deserve to live.
I judged them unworthy. I laid my hand on the hilt of my sword. This was just. This was righteous. I would slay them all.
My anger reached new heights. Just as I was about to pull free my sword, I paused, struck by a moment of clarity.
Who was I to judge?
Were we not all children of God? Am I not one of them now – a fallen – in all but deed? And was I not about to purge and destroy as they have done?
I released the grip of my sword and stumbled away. I wasn’t sure how long I moved, passing one cart after another, pushing my way through crowds, until I found a small quiet corner in an alleyway.
I sunk to my knees, breathing heavily, hands clenching and unclenching.
“Master?” Ebriel peeked into the alleyway.
“I am no one’s master, Ebriel. Do not call me that. I have a name.”
“Sariel,” he said uncomfortably, stepping forward.
My head pounded and my throat was dry. I licked my lips, desperate for moisture. “Water. Please. Can you find me some?”
“No water here, ma…Sariel. Only wine.”
I nodded. So be it. “Do you still have the flagon?”
Ebriel approached tentatively, the flagon in his hands. It was half full. I had never tasted wine before. I let it touch my lips when Mephistopheles offered me some in his domain but I did not drink. Spirits were not allowed in the higher orders. What was the need? How could wine or any spirits match the intoxicating joys of Spirit?
But that was then.
I unstoppered it and drained it down. The flavor was bitter yet seductive. It warmed me but did not quite quench my thirst.
I licked my lips. It was rathe
r pleasant but it reminded me of how famished I was.
“Can you please find me some fruit?” I asked.
“Fruit is hard to find. Nothing grows here.” He pulled out a meat stick from the cloth wrapping he procured earlier.
I took it and stared at it. It was charred and unidentifiable. Meat was also forbidden. I shrugged. What was one more sin? I took a bite. It was greasy, stringy, and delicious. I ate it all then asked for a second. Ebriel happily obliged.
I rose to my feet, a little unsteady. I felt better. Much better.
“I thought you were gone for good,” said Ebriel. “I thought succubae claimed you. They always get what they want.”
“Succubae?” I found it harder to concentrate than usual.
“She-fallen who desired you. They are strong. High in the order of fallen. We must hide now. They will find you.”
Succubae. I tossed the word around in my mind. The translation meant insatiable or devourer depending on context. In the case of the fallen wench who touched me, both meanings more than sufficed.
“How far to the arena?” I asked.
“Not far. Through the market. On the other side.”
“Let’s go.”
I followed Ebriel. Thankfully, he slowed his pace. The wine made me feel sluggish. I did not trust myself to ably walk at fast speeds.
We pressed through the market; it became a blur of sight, sound, and smells. The odor turned rank, even moreso than usual. I covered my nose. Even Ebriel did the same.
“What is that smell?” I asked.
“Demons. Don’t look. We walk fast, yes?”
Massed creatures, stuffed in pens, were tied by their hands to a latticework of crisscrossing poles above their heads. The demons were mostly fat. Their eyes and ears had been removed. Their mouths sewn shut.
Shop keepers, wearing red splattered aprons, were busy butchering the demons with sharp cleavers and long knives of various sorts. Cuts of meat and organs were hung dripping from hooks in front of the stalls. Splayed open carcasses, exposed chest cavities, and limbs were piled behind the butcher in a heap of gore. Fallen were haggling for the choicest cuts.
I stopped in my tracks, appalled.
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