Heaven's Night

by Harry Aderton

  Ebriel must have read the look on my face. “Nothing grows here,” he said defensively. “Only meat for food. Fallen eat demons. Demons eat demons. Sometimes we eat rat or rodent. Delicacies that. That’s why we hunt them on the surface. Fetch good money. Nothing else to eat but meat.”

  “And what kind of meat did I eat? Don’t answer that.” I already knew the answer. My stomach churned and I thought I would heave it up. I distinctly remembered enjoying the taste of it. “If nothing grows, what was the wine made from?” I was afraid of the answer.

  “Demon urine, milk, or blood. Marrow sometimes.”

  I did not react. I was too disgusted, mentally and bodily. He took it as a sign of encouragement.

  “Bread is made from dried demon bones, ground to a fine powder,” he pressed on. “Fruit is not really fruit but is —”

  “That’s quite enough,” I cut him off. Once again I felt the urge to cleanse this place, to rid existence of this abomination.

  But again, who was I to judge? Did I not partake of the food and drink of this sphere and enjoy it? Did I not find the taste just a little bit satisfying? Was that so wrong?

  Yes, this is wrong! I raged in a moment of certainty. Demons are returned fallen! They have souls. Cannibalism cannot be abided!

  Why not? a thought responded calmly. Who am I to deny someone the right to eat and drink if this is all the food there is?

  My head ached. What was happening to me? Could I no longer discern what was harmful or healing to my immortal soul? When did I learn to doubt my wisdom, my intuition, my core values so readily? Was it the wine? Or was it the very air I breathed?

  “Take me away from here,” I told Ebriel. I needed to get out of this sphere as quickly as possible before it corrupted me beyond saving.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Regent Arena stood outside the market and looked like a dome with its top lopped off. The sounds of steel on steel and the shouts of fallen echoed from within and was a welcome change from the cacophony of the market. Smaller and squat brown buildings sat like toadstools around the arena.

  “Stay close,” I told Ebriel. We stood outside the largest of the round, squat buildings.

  Ebriel shook his head. “I cannot go in there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Demons are not welcome. Demons go in, they don’t come out. I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Very well.” I opened the door and entered.

  The building had no roof and was nothing more than a hollow cylinder when viewed from within. Along the walls stood different wooden platforms with ramps strung together. Fallen battled fallen on each of the platforms, some vigorously, some in drills. Different sections catered to different weaponry; spears, nets, swords, and chains. Trainers hovered above, slashing a switch at a battling fallen, barking orders and an occasional encouragement.

  I walked through the building, noting nothing of interest, then walked out the back door and into a courtyard. More fallen trained. Ferocious looking demons, some with horns, others with the faces of bulls were penned in individual cages. Most slept with little room to do naught else, the smell of urine and waste was overpowering.

  An ornate building adjacent to the arena stood unlike the others. It had an arched doorway and shuttered windows with filigree carvings. I moved towards it and entered.

  I stood in an open office. Lush couches were lined against the wall near a wide desk. Behind it, a fallen looked up, placing a quill in its holder. He picked up the parchment he was working on, blew on it, dusted it with sand, then tacked it to the wall behind him next to the other postings. He turned back towards me. For the second time that day, I was judged by the armor I wore. His gaze lingered on it then he smiled happily.

  “My lord, how can I assist you this fine day?”

  “I need information.”

  “Of course. I can tell you anything you need to know about our top contenders. The odds favor Tixmion four to one. Sosol two to one. Hundred to one against Meresin the Great. Would you care to place a wager?”

  “I need different kind of information.”

  “Indeed,” he smiled conspiratorially. “I understand completely. I may have heard, shall we say, a prediction or two about a particular match?”

  “Not interested. I need to get to the coliseum.”

  “Oh, of course.” His smile faded. “You seek passage. Straight back, through the hall on the left to the very end and through the door. Wait there. Tabaet will see you shortly.” He dismissed me with a wave and picked up his quill.

  I did as he bade me and entered a rather large trophy room. Swords and helmets rested on pedestals with short descriptions attached to each. Tapestries hung on the walls. Dented armor adorned wooden dummies. I walked around the prized collection, my hands clasped behind my back, careful not to disturb anything. My eyes moved to the intricate artwork painted on the domed ceiling.

  My breath stopped short. Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Sammael stood shoulder to shoulder, each holding a shield almost as tall as they. On each shield was painted a different tower, one for each of the four compass points; North, East, West, and South.

  My brothers glowed like the sun, casting off bright rays. When gathered together in this way, they were known as the Four Towers. Halos crowned their armored heads. Shadowy figures and thunderclouds recoiled from them. Angels from all the nine orders circled their feet, with their hands clasped together, heads bowed piously.

  Emotion swelled in my throat. My brothers…would I ever see them again? Would I ever be worthy to stand in their company again?

  “Breathtaking, is it not?” a voice said behind me.

  “Indeed it is.” I turned. A handsome fallen stood in the doorway, dressed in a simple chiffon of black with a silver belt around his waist. He walked towards me. A silver circlet adorned his brow.

  “I had the bricks and plaster on which it was painted moved, piece by piece, from the surface,” he said. “I then had artisans rebuild it to perfection. It took years to complete and cost me a fortune. But it was worth it, don’t you think?”

  “Undoubtedly. I remember when this was in the Adrigon Cathedral and even then the colors were not so crisp. You have restored it to a glory I had not seen in ages. And a finer restoration I could not imagine. The Four Towers are the greatest warriors of God. They are the peak of spiritual, mental, and physical harmony when gathered together. They are unbeatable.”

  He beamed. “I could not think of a more worthy canopy for my prized collection.”

  “You must be Tabaet.” I extended my hand. “I am Sariel.”

  He smiled conspiratorially and took it. “You need not be so discreet. However, if you insist on calling yourself Sariel, it’s as good a name as any. The names of Archangels have ever become more popular in the arena lately. There’s always the next Michael or Gabriel or Uriel. Would you like some wine?” he walked over to a table and poured himself a goblet.

  “No, thank you. I seek passage to the coliseum.”

  “Ah, so I’ve heard. I can open a portal for you and none too soon. The great games begin next week and the next ones won’t take place until a year after that, as I’m sure you know. The price is twenty thousand. I normally charge twenty-five but you so very smoothly ingratiated yourself by fawning over my interests. Very well done.”

  I smiled thinly. “I have no money.”

  He laughed. “I find that hard to believe. You come to me in very expensive gilded armor, as any true devotee of the games would do these days, seeking passage to the great games less than a week before they are to begin. How simple do you take me for?”

  “How long would it take me to travel to the coliseum if I don’t use your portal?”

  He chuckled again. “Still playing the game, are we? Very well, I have time. Let’s say you didn’t know the coliseum was three thousand miles away, buried underground, and you actually wanted to spend months traveling there and that’s only if you happened to know the precise location. Have fun w
aiting another year for the next games. I’m sure you’re armor won’t have rusted too much by then.”

  “And if I chose to travel myself anyway. How much for a map or guide?”

  “Twenty thousand.”

  “And what if I told you that I could care less about your games? All I’m interested in is the location of the Akashic Halls which lies near the Great Coliseum. How much for a guide there?”

  He pursed his lips. “Yes, I’ve heard of the Akashic Halls and yes, they are near the Great Coliseum.” My heart leapt. “In fact, I believe they are connected to Lord Lucifer’s palace. Regardless, the price is still twenty thousand.”

  “I see. What’s to prevent me from forcing you to open a portal for me?” I said.

  “Ah, I hadn’t heard anyone threaten me in quite a while. How delightful.” He smiled thinly. “I suppose I would be forced to kill you if you were serious. You do realize the prizes in this room are mine, don’t you? After all, there’s not too many of us coliseum prize holders. Come now, twenty thousand is fair.”

  “I could go somewhere else. Perhaps find another who would open the portal for me.”

  “Good luck. I’m sure you’re aware only coliseum prize holders are allowed to open portals directly to the coliseum else you would not be here. A gift from Lucifer you see. We’re granted access any time we’re so inclined and have a permanent seat of honor in his pavilion. Like I mentioned, there’s not too many of us around.” He smiled, humoring me, and sipped his wine. “Of course, another way to get to the Great Coliseum is to volunteer to fight there but they don’t take volunteers for the ring lightly – not enough sport, you see, for the untrained to get slaughtered. Besides, that’s what demons are for. Perhaps if you joined the gladiatorial circuit and you survived that, you could get to the coliseum in, say, about five years?”

  I had the urge to rip the location from his mind and be done with it. But if his mind was strong, could I get even that much information from him before it collapsed? I also considered forcing him to do my bidding but I had a suspicion he was not boasting about his fighting skills. I didn’t fear him but he would most likely fight to the death before yielding. That wouldn’t do either.

  Another option was to raise the money. I could steal it. I immediately regretted the thought. I hadn’t fallen so low yet. What else was there?

  “What can we trade for my passage there?” I asked.

  “Now we’re negotiating,” he said, pleased. “I’ll take your armor as half payment. And if the blade of your sword resembles anything like the hilt, I’ll take that as another five. That will leave you with five thousand to come up with.”

  “Armor and sword stay with me. What else?”

  “There is nothing else.” His features hardened. “I grow weary of this conversation and you are beginning to waste my time. My arena is hosting the Eve of the Great Games tomorrow evening and I have much to prepare for.”

  A thought struck me at his words. Something I had seen in the clerk’s office when I first entered …

  “Perhaps I’ll see you soon,” I said.

  I spun and exited the room, heading back to the office where the clerk had tacked his postings. He was as I left him and glanced up at me without moving his head. I pushed him to the side and scanned the wall. Ignoring his complaints of rudeness, I snatched the posting I needed then left.

  I read it again as I crossed the courtyard, finding the passage that caught my eye previously.

  … should anyone vanquish the Great Meresin at the Regent Arena on the Eve of the Great Games, the prize will be Free Passage and a Pavilion Seat at the Great Coliseum …

  A plan began to take shape.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The roar of the crowd swept over me, their glee sickening. Three gladiatorial fallen stood back to back, armed with spear, net, and swords and they slew the last of the demons in a spray of gore. Thirty other demons lay dead about them.

  I watched the grisly scene with disgust, my patience parchment thin. The arena games had started early in the morning and it had taken all my remaining gold to gain entrance. I brought my full armor, the helm tucked under my arm and my shield slung on my back. I sat on a perch near the top of the arena as I had done for the last six hours.

  Blood lay everywhere. The battles were fought on a white marble floor to make the spraying volumes of blood more pronounced. The demons lay in contorted positions, having been impaled, hacked and gutted. Limbs and entrails lay everywhere. Of the eight gladiators that had begun the fight, only three remained.

  They raised their weapons in salute at Tabaet. The Lord of the Games raised a scepter in response, looking with a satisfied smile plastered on his face. A dozen fallen in rich clothing and adorned with jewelry sat on benches to either side of him, feasting on meat delicacies and drinking wine.

  I recognized the succubae who had tried to seduce me, licking her fingers seductively as she pulled raw flesh from a bone. A male fallen fawned over her, to her obvious delight, and had not taken his eyes off of her since the games began.

  The three gladiators waved to the crowd as they exited. The arena exploded, roaring their approval, drumming their feet.

  Worker demons trundled carts out of hidden alcoves around the arena floor, picking up pieces and parts and tossing them onto the carts in ragged heaps. Other demons scattered white sand on the blood and swept most of it away while still others followed them with rags and wiped the floor down.

  The Regent Arena was shaped like a dome with seats that rose to half its height. The stadium benches that encircled the arena floor were reserved for the wealthier patrons. Perches no more than ledges rose above that to the top. Every seat and perch in the Arena was filled.

  I hunched forward, wondering if I had made a mistake in coming here. Perhaps I should have taken my chances and ripped the location of the coliseum from Tabaet’s mind. At least I’d be flying over this godforsaken land instead of sitting in an arena watching these grotesque games of death. It was not too late, I decided, and I intended to do exactly that should my gambit fail today.

  The carts, laden with gore, returned to the hidden alcoves on the opposite side of the arena. Trumpets sounded and the games orator walked to the middle of the floor. The arena fell silent.

  “In the first days of the fall, when Lucifer the Mighty conquered the third sphere, he came to this land and wept when he saw the angels among the city tiers. ‘Woe unto those winged souls that fly under the yoke of God,’ he said and raised his hand. ‘I call on those worthy enough to heed my voice to come forth and be my hands.’ The angels who heard him recognized his greatness and chose to serve him. He raised his other hand and said, ‘I call on those worthy enough to heed my voice to come forth and be my weapons.’ Three came to him on bent knee. To the first he said, ‘You shall be my sword and I shall name you Tabaet.’

  The orator gazed up at the Lord of the Arena and held forth his hands. “Behold, Tabaet the Strong!”

  The arena erupted. Tabaet stood and bowed, his face glowing. I turned away, disgusted.

  The orator waited until the din quieted. “To the second, Lucifer said, ‘You shall be my shield and I shall name you Mammon!”

  Again, the crowd erupted. “As you know”, the orator continued, “Mammon the Undefeated won the Great Games in the coliseum for the last five years. Will he win again this year? Perhaps. Perhaps not. For I shall tell you what Lucifer said to the last of those who came to him on bent knee. To him, Lucifer said, ‘You shall be my spear and I shall name you Meresin!’

  The crowd exploded in cheers and began to chant. “Meresin. Meresin!”

  “There is only one who has won the Eve of the Great Games three times in a row and only one who is worthy to take the crown from Mammon the Terrible! I give you, the Great Meresin!”

  A giant of a fallen walked out onto the arena floor. Armored in black with spikes protruding from his shoulder guards and helmet, he was easily twice as tall as any of the other fallen. His che
st was bare but he wore black cingulum armor around his waist. In his hands he bore a sword and a broad axe.

  Meresin was far larger than he should have been which meant his already powerful body was enhanced. Bodily enhancements were forbidden because it involved stealing prana from another. Prana, like any energy, can be shared or transferred, just as one can share prana to heal or give another as an energy boost. Prana that is freely given can be beneficial.

  Prana that is stolen, however, can be harmful because it robs the victim of its bodily life force and is therefore tainted. The affects of stolen prana are obvious – enlarged muscle groups and disproportionate bodily deformities. It can also affect mental and emotional balance. Unfortunately, it gives the taker incredible attributes like strength, speed, and endurance.

  Only the Guardian class and above have the ability to share or siphon prana to enhance the body, which meant Meresin was a fallen of the higher orders. Probably Principal or Dominus. Either way, he was incredibly powerful.

  I licked my lips, treacherous doubts creeping into my thoughts. The Guardian class was not to be taken lightly. Only the Seraphim could match their prowess, sword to sword.

  He walked out to the middle of the floor and raised both hands. Thunderous cheers crashed down from all sides.

  The orator held up his hands until the noise quieted. “The Great Meresin will face three challenges to test his skill! In the first bout, Meresin will face no less than five opponents all at once – all champions of the gladiatorial circuit! Will he survive? Few could stand against such formidable opponents.

  “If he survives the first bout, and even if he is hurt, the Great Meresin will face the greatest demon this arena has ever seen! We have scoured this land for nigh a year to find this beast and it is ferocious. I tremble at the thought of it. The Great Meresin’s skill will be tested to the fullest!

  “And the third bout is for you! If the Great Meresin can survive the second bout, he will fight any who is brave enough to cross arms with him. And what better chance will any of you have? He will surely be weak and suffering from his first two bouts. Survive thirty seconds with him and you will receive ten thousand gold crowns. Vanquish him and you will be granted a privileged seat at the Great Games in Tabaet’s pavilion! Who will endeavor to win such glory and sit at Lord Tabaet’s side? One of you, surely!”