Celestial's World

by Robert Ian Wilson

  Thea shook her head, “No, he’s different.”

  My eyes had deceived me. He was a druid, but not my old friend. His black beard was not as long, and his nose was plumper.

  The gnome glanced around suspiciously and stared into the kitchen. He reached for a small blade concealed from under his sleeve.

  “I know you’re there,” he grumbled. “Step out and face me!”

  We hesitated but slowly walked into view.

  “Are you a druid?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “Who’s asking?”

  “My name is Lucius Domhill and a friend of a compatriot of yours, Sedgwick.”

  “I see, well, he’s no compatriot of mine; in fact, I have no allies, friends or family.”

  I had a theory on our gnome’s identity. To find a druid in the realm of darkness can only point to one...

  “I’m presuming that your name is Umber... am I right?” I asked.

  “Yes human. I am he.”

  Dante’s first vessel stood alive and well. The tales of Umber’s demise had been exaggerated or he was presumed dead, after his exile and possession.

  “How are you still alive?”

  “Resilience and stubborn nature,” muffled Umber. “I see you are a rider of ley-lines.”

  The druid glanced at Orion.

  “Not by choice,” I said.

  “I recognise my handy work. After all these years, the machine that created the first key to Eve is still operational...”

  “So, what side do you represent?” asked Thea.

  “I don’t have a side. Not anymore. So, you can take your hand off Orion and join me for some stew,” gestured Umber.

  It was quite surprising to find a level-headed being in such an evil place; one reason why we had to be vigilant. This druid was no ordinary gnome, he was the former head scientist of all druids and inventor of Big Ben; this being was a genius.

  We sat and ate in silence, with an occasional glance up; I didn’t trust him. Any being who’d sided with the enemy couldn’t be trusted.

  The silence was broken with an unexpected question, “Tell me, is Sedgwick still alive?”

  “No - he fell protecting me.”

  “He had a good heart. Always trying to save the needed, including me, but I was too far gone and manipulated by Dante’s silver tongue. I didn’t see the alarm bells.”

  “May I ask -

  Umber cut me off mid-sentence, “Why?”

  “Yes...”

  “When we came through the first ley-line it was the biggest scientific breakthrough of our century – no, of our history. To find gods at the end of the stars and work with them was every gnome's dream. Our ignorance and arrogance had blinded us from the fact that we were being used.”

  Umber hanged his head in shame. “We called it ‘the Golden Age,’ but our discoveries were our downfall. A shadow watched and observed our progress for many years until every ley-line had been explored and opened. Many druids thought we’d conquered our quest of exploration and were ready to return home... I wanted more, I wanted to discover more and make a name for myself, to be printed through history and known to all worlds.”

  “To be a god - he saw you coming. Ambition can either make a man or destroy him,” I said.

  “Quite true,” replied Umber. “My ambition destroyed my family and friends. My whole race because of my selfish nature.”

  “Sedgwick believed he was the last of his kind.”

  “He was... my actions have taken any right of mine to be called a druid.”

  “Maybe you can put this right by helping us?” asked Thea.

  “Why would a traitor help us?” I questioned.

  “Not all creatures of Maylok follow the dark. I was just a pawn before I was banished to live my days here. I’ve kept quiet and somehow built a life for myself. Yes, I might be bad, but I’m not evil.”

  We fell silent again and finished our strange stew. I couldn’t guess what was in it and to be honest, I didn’t want to know.

  “So, what would you like to know?” asked the gnome.

  “The Darklands location.”

  Umber wiped stew from his lip and said: “I can take you there, but it is protected. There is a town filled with creatures who have been banished from worlds because of their misdeeds.”

  “Can we get through?” I asked.

  “Yes, but we need to be incognito and try to blend in. I have clothes that’ll help. Your attire is too fancy, and you can take off those goggles; the air isn’t toxic anymore.”

  Umber retrieved some raggedy clothes and Thea’s face seemed to drop. We fastened on the worn leather bodysuits that had straps across our chests. We finished off our look with brown hooded capes to conceal our faces.

  “Second thought, maybe it is best to put the goggles back on... at least it’ll hide some of your human features,” recommended the gnome.

  I strapped Orion to my side and her pentagram handle was hidden from view. Now I knew how Sedgwick felt towards his ley-line key. The responsibility was an added pressure. If my sword fell into the wrong hands its power would be used for a disastrous consequence.

  “So, is the Darklands far?” I asked.

  “No, but there are many other realms within the Darklands. It shouldn’t be too much of a mission with a ley-line key in hand. Your blade shall show us the way.”

  “How?” I replied.

  Umber looked to Orion. “You are connected to the star, she will show you how, but first we need to head to the town of Haggington. It’s a good trading post for lost beings like myself. His followers will be there too.”

  “We’re ready,” said Thea. “Whatever it takes... right Lucius?”

  I agreed and we headed out to follow a gnome once more.

  Umber had taken us further up the mountain until we were looking beyond a red horizon. I looked to the north and could vaguely see smoke from a large settlement. What struck me as odd was that it came from a derelict stoned town; Maylok had a cathedral.

  “Who do they worship?” I asked.

  “Darkness – who else could they worship in a place like this?” replied the gnome.

  “So, Dante has a cult of his own.”

  “That cathedral is a building of nightmares. It is occupied by his necromancers named, the Serpents Eye. I’ve been inside once and vowed never to set foot in there again, but we don’t have a choice and so, I must break my promise.”

  I felt dread from the words that Umber had uttered, and I knew full well he wasn’t telling us everything about his experience.

  “Are you sure? Isn’t there another way?” quivered Thea; to sense the tremble in her voice caused me to nervously shiver.

  “It is the only way to the Darklands and Lira. Only his most loyal servants, pass the fresh hold, but I am always welcome, as I was once a vessel.”

  “For a breath moment, Thea was too.”

  The gnome looked sympathetic towards our revelation. If I hadn’t destroyed Dante’s dark blade, my friend would’ve surely been a prisoner to the fiend for life.

  “So, you’ve had the darkness’s touch too. You will have his mark and will be able to cross into the Darklands. We share a bond, you and I.”

  “There’s no bond between us; only an experience. So, don’t put me in the same category as you.”

  Umber heard the anger in Thea’s tone and instantly diverted his gaze. “We can pass the fresh hold, Thea, but Lucius, you will need your sword. Orion will help you.”

  We continued and travelled through more marshland until a dark forest awaited our grace. The smoke was much closer and there were fires between the trees. The Cathedral’s gothic weathervane poked above the canopies.

  The air began to change, as we entered a smoggy mist and followed the lights within the distance. We could hear distinct voices over yonder and Umber attentively halted us. “From here, follow me and do not stray – do not speak or make eye contact with any creature. Some can read minds and if you are discovere
d, they will take you.”

  We stepped into a gothic and stone themed settlement; the first thing I’d noticed was the huge cathedral stretching up into the red sky. It was jet black and reminded me of Antoni Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia. Every inch of stone had an incredible detail of all things that represent evil; gargoyles, witches, vampires, werewolves, demons, the undead, mages, necromancers, and hectonziles. The spires had a dovecot that housed the Pterodactyl birds.

  To get to the cathedral, we had to pass through the streets of Haggington. There was a foul stench of sulphur. The medieval houses were derelict and looked to have accommodated a hoard of Maylok creatures. It was noisy, rowdy, and filthy. It felt like I’d stepped into a ten-year-olds nightmare.

  The creatures who were depicted on the cathedral were walking the streets; haggling in the alleys playing cards; witches hanging out of windows, laughing at the top of their lungs and men, who have lost every right to call themselves human.

  I clocked eyes on ‘The Old Nicks Tavern’ that was on the corner of a squared courtyard. We witnessed a pirate smash through the front window during a domestic with a werewolf.

  “I think we’ll stay clear of Old Nicks,” whispered Umber.

  We’d get sniffed out for sure... I thought.

  We had found the source of the fire. It came from a burning industrial factory. A man was crouched close by and seemed to be talking to himself. He held a lighter and repeated, “Burn everything - burn everything - burn - burn - burn...”

  “Everyone gets lost at some point in life, even a pyromaniac,” said the druid.

  The cathedral was not far, and our final steps began in a narrow alleyway where we were confronted by a posh gentleman. As we turned a corner, his silhouette faded from the lantern’s brightness. He stepped out of a dark doorway and said, “Good Evening.”

  “Watch yourselves,” warned Umber.

  The man was dressed in a Victorian suit and he wore a top hat. “My name is Dr. Edward Waxbury and I must say that you are trespassing. This is the final step towards our master’s sanctuary. State your business or leave.”

  “I am a servant of the dark and the first vessel of Dante. These two are my aids who were bestowed upon me by our master. I have a right to pass.”

  “You might, little druid, but they cannot. You can pass, but they must stay behind.”

  That wasn’t an option, and at that moment, we knew what needed to be done.

  “There is no point in negotiating,” said I.

  “You...” pointed the doctor. “I see through your disguise.”

  I drew Orion and stepped forward.

  “Oh... so it’s you...”

  My enemy drew two scythes from his long coat and came at me with a bloodlust. We clashed with the sound of clanging metal. The man’s eyes were as black as coal and he had froth at the mouth.

  He slashed downwards and hooked my blade with his other scythe. I pulled my sword from his grip and deflected the oncoming weapon. My swordplay had certainly grown since the guidance of William and my regular spars with Thea.

  Again, the Doctor came at me and I advanced with the intent of finishing the fight quickly. Orion slit through his scythes like butter, but he was not finished. Waxbury pounced holding a small dagger that he produced from his hat. It nearly impaled my flesh, but I managed to knock the weapon from his grasp and used the opening to strike him down. My blade ran him through.

  His eyes were wide and shocked from the defeat. He opened his mouth to utter some final puzzling words. “What happens when a being like me dies in a spirit world? We seek to exist,” said the doctor. “My work shall be forgotten...”

  His face turned pale and his black eyes were hollow; Dr. Edward Waxbury was no more.

  Chapter Ten - The Vultures

  I pulled open an iron gate and stepped into the grounds of the cathedral. We’d managed to cut through our first Haggington encounter, but there were more obstacles ahead; luckily, the creatures we had walked-by thought we’d been let through. Us, humans kept our mouths shut and even tried to blend in. I developed a strange walk; I dragged my left leg behind and groaned every few minutes. Thea sniffed the air and kept scratching her head; I think she was trying to imitate a Lycan who was close by...

  Crossing the stone slabs, no one questioned our antics and we reached the black door to the cathedral. A large symbol of a pentagram had been encrypted on the door, but it was slightly different from the norm. This one was circled and had scribing’s of an ancient language within the star.

  The door creaked open and we stepped inside to be greeted by a robed man. The room was packed with Maylok beasts. They listened to a group of five necromancers who recited passages from an old book. These cult leaders wore the death masks which were used during the medieval black plague. The masks were in the shape of a bird with a long leathery beak; their eyes were covered by black tinted goggles. They wore similar suits like the deceased Doctor Edward Waxbury; very Victorian.

  These five necromancers surrounded a well that had an important significance. Umber pointed towards it, “The entrance to the Darklands, the true home of Dante and his most loyal minions.”

  “How do we get through?” I whispered.

  “Dante’s followers offer a sacrifice; we must join the line and offer ourselves. The necromancers will agree to that.”

  We joined the queue of odd creatures and every so often shuffled forward; I tried to avoid the tail of a scaled reptile. It held some blooded meat that I presumed was its sacrifice.

  The slowness of the line gave me the time to take in my surroundings. Up above were thousands of bats. They swung in the red light that filtered through the stained-glass windows.

  Vampires? I thought.

  Beneath my goggles, I could just make out the depictions on the windows. Many honoured the Darkness and before we stepped up to the well, I saw Umber, who kneeled to shadow freely. I had forgotten why the gnome was in Maylok in the first place. I fell into familiarity with our new companion because he reminded me of Sedgwick, but I adjusted my mind and realised that Umber could not be fully trusted...

  The necromancers waited for our presence and then gestured for us to step forward.

  “Present us with your sacrifice. Our father will be blessed and praised,” boomed, what I presumed was the head necromancer.

  “We offer ourselves to the Darkness and promise to serve him in the Darklands,” said Umber.

  “Hmm... a full embodied sacrifice. Very well! You may proceed but be warned you cannot return. The further you fall, the harder it is to rise.”

  “We are aware of that, we only live to serve the master,” uttered Umber.

  That was convincing... I thought.

  A wing came from under the necromancer’s robe and he waved his feathers over the well.

  I clutched Orion’s hilt and hoped my ley-line key would’ve helped me through the portal. Thea and Umber were fine, as both had been vessels prior; Dante’s touch still resided within them, like an invisible scar.

  *

  It felt like a second had passed before we appeared in a circular Stonehenge. There was a white glare from a pale sun, which disrupted my vision. The Darklands was a barren wasteland that had steam pouring from cracks within the stone floor. There was no grass; no water; dark clouds in the black sky; only fire and brimstone between a valley of hills. It looked like the Highlands in Scotland had seen the end-of-days.

  “These lands are volcanic, so we must watch our step. One wrong move and you’ll lose a leg,” warned Umber. “And stay away from certain shadows... There are bogarts amongst us, who like to play games; very mischievous.”

  A patter of feet could be heard not far off, and we quickly hid behind a large stone. Four imps scampered into the circle and busily scouted for offerings. They wore black robes and were the size of children. Their faces were green, and their teeth were short and pointy. The communication between the four was rather odd. They clicked their tongues with every annunciation of a
n old language. More offerings came from the portal and the Imps gathered the rank objects; carefully placing the dismembered body parts in a basket. They pulled the basket to the edge of the circle and disappeared down some steps.

  “Imps... creatures you shouldn’t take too lightly. They are small but incredibly vicious,” said the gnome. “We must press on. Dante’s citadel is located within the Darklands centre. There we will encounter the Council of Minions, his most loyal and strongest followers; you’ll find your resolve there. That is where the Light will be held.”

  We proceeded down a narrow path that led away from the portal and we’d already attracted unwanted attention. A small shadow tailed us. Umber had said that it wasn’t a threat, although on certain occasions, during our descent into a valley of jet stone, I’d felt a pebble collide against my head!

  “Cut it out!” I yelled before Thea shushed me.

  “It appears you already have an admirer. They seem to be drawn to you...” chuckled Umber.

  The existence of the mineral jet that came from highly pressurised wood gave us the inkling of the valley’s former glory; it made think, had the Darklands always been in shadow?

  The gemstone reminded me of my grandpa Egbert’s holiday ritual in Whitby, Yorkshire. It was a happy memory of hiking the 199 steps to St Mary’s Church. Egbert would purchase the jet on our decent as an accomplished prize. I think I’ve still got the shoebox of jet stone under my stairs...

  I picked up a piece from the Darklands floor and placed it in my pocket. One for the road, I thought.

  Before we proceeded, I’d felt a pull in my pocket. The gemstone escaped its confinement and joined a mound not far off. We watched the black mineral melt into liquid and resurrected into twin-human-shaped creatures.

  “Umber – what are we dealing with here?” asked Thea.

  “Gargoyles! They’re the council’s security. This is Namir’s conjuring!”

  “Can they be cut!?” I said.

  “With Orion, yes!”

  The gargoyles sprouted wings and fashioned two swords from their remaining gemstones. The black figures came forth and I met them halfway; Thea was close-by but unarmed.