The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  He was led to the middle of the U. “Stay there,” the older angel said.

  She walked around and took her place at the left of the raised center chair. Another older angel appeared, this time a man. He also wore green and gold with a blade. He took the chair on the right, leaving the throne empty.

  Hitomi and Gramm were shoved next to him by a pair of angels. They were wild-eyed and bedraggled. They both wore similar clothes. Relief rushed him, and he pulled Hitomi into a tight hug. She held onto him tightly.

  Angels filled the room, men and women. Hundreds of them. Some had blonde or red hair, but an equal number had darker features. Their average height was about six and a half feet tall, with only a few shorter or taller. Those in the black armor were muscled and toned, but some of the ones in robes were slightly overweight. Other than the two older angels, they each seemed to be around thirty years old. Some took seats at the table, and some stood. The throne remained empty.

  “Are you guys okay?”

  Gramm nodded. “Other than a blooming headache where the guard whacked me. Where's Indigo?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Silence.” The command echoed. It came from the gray woman in her chair. All attention in the room suddenly centered on her.

  “Where is Indigo?” Dave demanded, shattering the sudden silence. “Our other friend.”

  An energy bolt shot from one of the guards behind the elder. The red light plowed into his chest, the same place the female angel had punched him. It felt like a sledgehammer. He doubled over, the breath knocked out of him. Hitomi and Gramm grabbed down to help him back up.

  “Do as they say,” Hitomi pleaded in his ear, desperation in her voice. “Please. ”

  “You are to obey the Hashmallim's commands,” the guard barked.

  The reactions were puzzling. Many of the angels had obvious looks of disgust, pure hatred even. But some, like the tall male angel who had come to his room, seemed more intrigued.

  He suddenly had the uneasy feeling this was some sort of trial.

  “Your concern for your friends is admirable,” the old woman, called the Hashmallim said, directly to Dave. He met her gaze defiantly. “But ease yourself of that burden for the moment. Your other friend is safe. She is being ... questioned.”

  Dave narrowed his eyes.

  She smiled slightly, but only for a flash. He noticed something unsettling. When she blinked, her male counterpart on the other side of the throne also blinked. At the exact same time. Bizarre.

  “How did you come to be on the battlefield?” she asked.

  Gramm spoke. “We came through the forest.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And how did you get to the forest?”

  “We just appeared there. On a platform thing. After we died.”

  Murmuring quickly arose from the gathered angels.

  She stared at them for a long time. “Which one?” she said finally.

  They looked at each other. Dave shrugged. “We didn't know there was more than one. We found our clothes and some of the other things you stole from us there.”

  A male angel jumped up from the table. “They are lying! Spies!”

  A few grumbled their consent.

  Another stood. “Even the Dominion wouldn't be foolish enough to use humans as spies.”

  “That's exactly why they would do it.”

  More quick talking and arguing. Murmurs of “Get rid of them!” and “Kill the spies” arose, sending chills through Dave.

  “Silence!” a guard called out.

  The uproar died down.

  The Hashmallim lifted her hand, and an angel in yellow robes stepped forward, carrying a squab, green pillow. Carefully laid out were the ten periscepters. He painstakingly placed them in front of the old angel, like he was handling a bomb. He quickly retreated. She picked one up, gripping it tightly. The room was utterly silent.

  “Do you know what these are?” she said.

  Hitomi spoke for the first time. “Periscepters. They belong to me and my friends.”

  Angry muttering rose again, but the guard quickly quelled it.

  “Where did you hear that word? Who gave these to you?”

  “Do you want the long version or the short one?” Gramm asked.

  The Hashmallim leaned back in her chair. It squeaked loudly, echoing in the chamber. “Tell it all,” she said.

  He told the whole story, from the moment they had arrived at the beach. Dave quickly learned two things. One, Gramm was an excellent storyteller. A natural speaker. His Australian accent was soothing. Two, the angels were fascinated by it. They paid rapt attention. It seemed the tide started to change. If they didn't believe their story, they no longer showed any signs. Soon, even the Hashmallim's mouth was open with awe.

  When Gramm got to the part of the Tree of Eternity, she asked several questions about the Unraveler. She seemed skeptical not of their story, but of the creature's promises. When he told of the attack by the flying demons, several angels gasped.

  Finally, after Gramm finished, the Hashmallim said, “So the other three periscepters are with your friend, this Rico?”

  Gramm shook his head. “He has two.”

  She frowned. “Then where's the last one?”

  He shrugged. “We had twelve of them. I don't know about another one. The Unraveler said there were thirteen, but he didn't say where the last one was.”

  She exchanged a look with the other man in the green and gold. “Perhaps you left one at the pyramid?”

  “The what?”

  “The platform you described. It's a pyramid, and you were at the top. Was the last periscepter left there?”

  “Maybe.”

  She nodded slightly. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Several of the angels in black were hurrying out into a dark chamber.

  “You,” she said, meaning Hitomi. “Approach and operate this periscepter.”

  She paused. “I don't want to hurt anyone.”

  Several of the angels laughed. It was musical sounding, light in the air. Not human at all, more like the sound of a dolphin.

  “Young human, if you could hurt anyone here with this weapon, I would be glad beyond my cycles you had done it. It injures only soldiers of the Dominion. Those who are damaged by the True Light.”

  She hesitantly stepped forward. She grabbed the periscepter and turned it on. Light filled the cavern. She swept the beam across the congregation. They gasped in unison. Some of them, especially the ones in robes, dropped to their knees in prayer. Some even wept. Hitomi placed the light back on the table.

  “No,” the Hashmallim said. “It is yours. They all are.”

  A muttering rose from the crowd, but no outbursts. Hitomi gathered up the periscepters and brought them back. She and Gramm took three, Dave had four. They slipped easily into a loop on the side of Dave's belt, almost like it had been made for that purpose. The others did the same.

  “Where is Indigo?” Dave called out again.

  The guard pointed his weapon, but the Hashmallim held up her hand. “Bring her.”

  A guard led her in from another chamber. Her hands were bound behind her back, and she was naked. Her body was covered with welts, as if they had been whipping her. Dave gasped. He ran to her, and she collapsed in his arms. Her breathing was quick. Bruises littered her face. Blood seeped down her leg. They had been torturing her.

  “Animals!” he screamed. “Why did you do this? Where are her clothes?”

  “It's okay,” Indigo whispered.

  “You're lucky she still breathes, Human,” the Hashmallim said calmly.

  “Get her some clothes,” Dave demanded. “Now.”

  “Humans do not give orders to the Hashmallim,” the guard barked.

  “She is a criminal,” the Hashmallim said. “And it is forbidden for criminals to cover evidence of their crime. She will remain unclothed.”

  “What crime?” he demanded. The guard trembled like a tied-up dog.

  “She bear
s the cicatrix. That is evidence enough.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  The Hashmallim addressed him as if she was speaking to a small child. “It means your friend isn't human at all. Nor is she an angel.” She spit. “Not anymore, at least.”

  The Cicatrix

  Indigo had awakened fastened to a pole in a dark room. Her hands and feet burned. A thick spike impaled them, attaching her to the wood. The acid nail was warm in her hands and feet, a living thing, the fang of a serpent. Her pulse throbbed in the wounds. She was naked, and she felt filthy. The taste of blood was ripe in her mouth.

  “Cowards,” she said, grunting in pain.

  A form rushed her from the darkness. It was an angel, all in black armor. Its wings were completely spread. A hand grabbed her throat. The powerful grip began to squeeze. The lights switched on.

  It was a female angel. She had dreadlocked hair, blazing red. She held a helmet in her left hand. “Strange word choice,” the angel spat. Indigo tried not to appear afraid.

  The grip on her neck let go. Indigo wheezed. “Where are my friends? What have you done with them?”

  She snorted. “Your friends are alive.”

  “I don't believe you. I want to see them.”

  She swung her helmet at Indigo's face. Her cheek exploded in pain. The bones in her face shattered.

  “Do not demand things of me, worm.” A long pause. “You don't remember a thing, do you?”

  She labored for each breath. Every movement caused the agony in her hands and face to flare. “No, I don't.”

  “It's not uncommon,” the angel said. “Sometimes when those like you return, their memory is gone forever.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  The angel nodded, malice burning in her eyes. “I know. But that doesn't make you any less guilty.”

  “What did I do? When did I do it?”

  “You bear the cicatrix. It was discovered when we took you in. You shall remain unclothed so all can see your shame.”

  “The what?” It was difficult to speak. She felt like she was suffocating.

  “It's a scar. It stains your skin, showing all where your mighty wings used to be.”

  The revelation hit her like a snap kick to the stomach. “I'm an angel?”

  She laughed without humor. “You were one. Now you're nothing. You died by your own hand, hurtling you into one of the human worlds. Now that you've returned, that scar is shown.” She moved her face so it was almost touching Indigo's. Her breath was hot against her skin. “You chose the coward's way out, instead of fighting for your brothers and sisters.”

  “I don't remember any of this. Not at all.”

  “Irrelevant. The cicatrix does not lie.”

  The bolt in her hands tore. She didn't know if she could take this much longer. “What's going to happen to me?”

  The angel paced the room. “Normally you'd be cast out, left to fend for yourself. But circumstances have ... changed. I suspect the cabinet will simply execute you.”

  Execute? “Wait a second. For something I don't remember two lifetimes ago? ”

  “Yes. You're being held accountable for your cowardice. For the fall of an infinite number of soldiers. For all my friends who died defending holes in the lines left by those like you.”

  The forms of three angels darkened the entranceway to the room. All male. “They hold you accountable also.”

  They came at her, hands bent into fists. Indigo closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself someplace else.

  * * * *

  The Hashmallim shifted uneasily. He looked across the empty throne at his female counterpart, his Pendant. She was perplexed also. More so than him, even. Under ideal circumstances, it was rare for two Pendants of the Hashmallim duality to be so close. Their lives were connected, as were their thoughts and emotions. The closer they were, the more pronounced their eternal connection.

  Surely these humans were the ones spoken of in the ancient prophecy. But many questions remained, many incongruities with the original lore. It was written four humans were to come, which there were. But a fifth was out there, assuming he wasn't already dead. It said nothing about one of them being a fallen angel either.

  And the thirteenth periscepter. That was the most disturbing of all. Without the thirteenth one, the other twelve were useful solely as weapons. The two other periscepters that were lost with this Rico was bad enough. The Dahhak was already being tracked. They tracked all enemy movements above the base, and they had immediately sensed it was carrying a human. When they found the other four had the periscepters, but only ten of them, they immediately dispatched a wing after the Dahhak. He had been angered to learn Tamael had only dispatched engineers after the Dahhak. She didn't believe in the importance of this, didn't think it was worthy to lose her best soldiers over.

  The Hashmallim contemplated calling them back. Even if they managed to gather all twelve periscepters, that thirteenth one would be their undoing. But he couldn't order their return. If they somehow recovered the last one, but lost their chance at these two, it would be unforgivable. Besides, he was Hashmallim. He didn't rescind orders.

  As much as it pained him, he decided to trust in the prophecy. To have faith. The humans would be released to find their fate. So it had been written many millennia ago.

  But the current question was of this fallen angel. The bearer of the cicatrix. She was now more human than anything. Born and died a human. He had stopped the Powers from beating her to death, but only barely. She stood before him now, being tended to by her friends. She was a pitiful sight, like a mongrel starving in the forest. The tide of distrust against the humans had changed with their account of their tribulations. It would not be so easy for this one. Would these humans still care for her if they knew what the scars on her back truly meant? He did not know. Humans were complicated creatures.

  But what should he do with her?

  Anything other than an execution would enrage them. But he and his Pendant agreed. Too much death already. And her role in the prophecy was unknown, and her execution could send everything reeling. Prophecies were exceedingly fragile things, for the future is pliable like clay. One mistake and everything crumbles.

  It would be best to stand down. Let the humans find their own path. He and his Pendant looked at each other from across His throne.

  I pray we are making the right choice, she thought.

  We have no choice, therefore the burden is not truly ours.

  Several Powers were speaking in turn, though he had tuned them out hours ago. The humans were watching in horror as angel after angel stood and demanded execution for the traitorous fallen angel. Some even spit at her, inciting an angry reaction from the one human named Dave. He was strong and persistent, though foolish. Four blasts from the guard's weapon, and still he fought.

  The Hashmallim spoke for the first time since the cabinet meeting began. He cleared his throat—a trick he had learned long ago from humans—and the room became instantly silent. “After she has been healed, the fallen angel is to be cast out of our sanctuary, along with her companions. Until then, she shall remain unharmed.”

  The roar of protest was deafening. Several Powers jumped to their feet, waving their weapons. Some even surged forward, as if to rush the two Hashmallim.

  “She'll give away our location!”

  “She can't be trusted!”

  “You're putting us all in danger!”

  He watched sadly. There was a time, not so long ago, when an order from a Hashmallim was followed explicitly. No complaints, no grumbling. The angel castes were accepted and followed. It was His rule. His law. Unbreakable. Unquestionable.

  But that was all before The Fall. Before everything changed. Every command was doubted. Soon he feared they would turn on each other. Times of strife had a way of upending even the deepest roots of resentment and hate.

  He could take the discord no more. “Silence,” he thundered, rising from h
is chair. The cacophony died down immediately, the angels looking at him in shock. Hashmallim rarely raised their voices. But when they did, it was with the sound of a thousand choirs. The four humans were on the ground, covering their ears in terror.

  “We have spoken. And our rule is final.”

  Some continued to grumble, but the rebellion had been quelled. For now.

  “I declare this meeting adjourned,” his Pendant said.

  The cave slowly drained of the cabinet and the onlookers.

  Colonel Tamael stopped before his chair. Her eyes blazed with an anger redder even than her hair. She held her ever-present helmet to her side.

  “Why is the prisoner being let go?” she demanded.

  The Hashmallim sighed. Tamael was an excellent military leader, but in the ways of politics and diplomacy she was greatly lacking in tact. He decided to simply tell her the truth. “We don't yet know her role in the prophecy. To execute her could be a disaster.”

  She blinked, apparently surprised at his frankness. “The soldiers do not like it. Her very presence lowers morale.”

  “She will be gone soon enough.”

  She shook her head. “Make it as soon as possible, Hashmallim.” She turned and strode out the room.

  He turned and looked at his Pendant. She was exhausted already. Her discomfort was his, weighing him down.

  Have we made the correct decision?

  It's in the hands of time now.

  * * * *

  They no longer separated them, but they were locked in the cell they had kept Dave in. Indigo still felt terribly weak. A tray with an unrecognizable yellow fruit and a clay pitcher of water was shoved brusquely into the room. Gramm and Dave laid Indigo gently onto the cot. Her entire body ached, but she could feel it slowly healing already.

  Hitomi blotted her wounds with a washcloth provided on the tray. They were silent for a long time, none of them wanting to talk about what had just happened.

  Dave removed his cloak and pulled it around her. She wore it like a blanket.

  Gramm finally asked the question. “Is it true?”

  She looked at him. There was no malice or anger in his voice, but a tinge of sadness. As if she had betrayed him somehow. “I don't know.”