The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  The other was a little girl about eight years old. She had black hair cropped short, and if it weren't for the folded wings behind her, he would never have been able to tell she was an angel. She too carried a gun, and she wore a black leather outfit. There wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes.

  The room was a wide hallway with a rounded ceiling. A barred gate stood behind the angels, but he couldn't see what was within.

  “We mean no harm,” Gramm said, raising his arms. Dave raised his too, the periscepter still clutched in his right hand.

  “He carries a periscepter,” one of the angels said, lowering his weapon.

  “I told you,” another said. “I saw it myself. They can use them, too.”

  “There are only two of you?” the little girl asked. She had the voice of a child, but it was unnaturally loud and powerful. It was creepy.

  “Yes,” Dave said. “We were more, but we've been separated.” He hesitantly lowered his arms. “We were told to come here.” He wasn't sure who to address his statements toward, but he said it to the girl. She seemed in charge.

  To Gramm, he whispered, “This is the right place?”

  He nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly.

  The angels holstered their weapons over their shoulders. Their movements were uncomfortable and less fluid than the other angels. These were definitely a different type of angel. Only the girl seemed at ease. The weapon was much too big for her, but she slipped it easily over her shoulder.

  In the distance, an explosion. The ground below them rocked slightly. “Come now,” the girl said. “This level is no longer safe thanks to your actions.”

  Dave hesitated. He didn't trust them.

  “Light us up,” the girl said. “With the periscepter.”

  He paused. Was this some sort of trap?

  The angel sighed. “We know you can operate it. We watched you decimate a small portion of the bazaar with it.”

  “I did?” Dave asked. “Really? I never got a chance...”

  The girl laughed. It was human sounding. Nothing like the musical, high-pitched dolphin squeaks of angel laughter. She's no child. “You extinguished about thirty demons in the initial blast. The riot that quickly ensued is costing more lives by the second.”

  “Wow,” he said. Thirty demons! It was nothing compared to what Hitomi and Indigo had done, but it was still thrilling. The power of the periscepter was intoxicating. He wished he had the ability to use it better. Like Hitomi. But he didn't envy her, either. Not at all. He gripped the weapon, held it out, and tried to produce a burst.

  A quick one came, and it doubled him over worse even than the last one. The pain lingered in his stomach for longer, too. Like someone kicking him from inside, trying to get out. How did Hitomi do it? He looked up, and they were still there. But all five of the male angels had their mouths open with shock.

  “They do exist,” one of them said. He turned to the girl. “The prophecy is real.”

  “The parts do not make the whole,” she whispered.

  “What is this place?” Gramm asked.

  “It is our sanctuary,” she said. “It was designed as an oddity, an attraction that would give countless hours of amusement. It's a hopeless maze. Most of it is illusion and space dimension. Only one angel has ever found the end, it is said.” She turned. The gates opened, and she beckoned them to follow. “And it is our prison.”

  They followed. The gates snapped closed behind them. The girl spoke as she walked. “This structure hasn't been destroyed because they are still studying the dimension theory. We don't believe they've mastered it yet. It had been thoroughly searched, but they missed several places. Including this one. Now, with your display in the market, they'll destroy this place to find you.”

  “I had no choice,” Dave said.

  She nodded sadly. “I know.” She turned a corner and walked right through a wall. Here more angels milled about, males and females, all in the flowing white robes.

  “We're not sure why we're here,” Gramm said. He tried to explain his strange ability, how he knew where to turn once inside.

  “It's the prophecy,” one of the angels repeated.

  The little girl sighed. “Only the Seraphim know the full text of the prophecy. And they're all gone. We don't know their purpose, and their stumbling here could be more curse than salvation. They bring their misfortune with them.”

  “We've done okay so far,” Dave said. Yes. Only one of us has been captured by demons. Two others are in the hands of angels who hate them, and we're trapped in a giant maze.

  “It's only by His grace you made it here.”

  “Well, we had some help,” Dave said.

  She stopped and looked at them. “Who helped you?”

  “Colonel Yehppael,” Gramm said. “They brought us to the edge of the city after the attack. He picked out the cloaks from the bodies of the slaves outside the walls.”

  The girl's eyes grew wide. A few others took in a sharp breath. “How many are there? Colonel, you say? So he's a Power? How about Cherubim or Hashmallim? Or Virtues like myself?”

  “I don't know how many are left,” he said. “But there were a lot before the attack. They had to retreat to the forest.”

  “Hashmallim,” Dave added. “There were two of them. They were in charge. Most of the others weren't anything like you. They said they were engineers and scientists. Yehppael said they got stuck out there when your city was attacked.”

  “Engineers,” one of the angels exclaimed. “They were thought to be mostly lost. These are good tidings indeed.”

  “Much good they'll do us out there,” another said.

  The girl led them to an ornate staircase which rose to a spacious room with an arched metal door. A quick rap and it opened. Inside three angels sat in chairs, watching monitors. Six more spaces and six more screens were empty, all turned off. One was black with smoke, like it had caught fire on the inside. The working TV screens showed color images of the marketplace around the temple. Outside, an ever-growing group of demons congregated. One red giant talked into a radio, and several Dahhak stood stiffly at attention, soldiers ready for their next order. A group of cat demons lobbed blasts at the walls. With each explosion, the demons cheered.

  It explained how these angels knew of Dave and Gramm's presence in the maze. They must have watched them approach the Spire and seen him use the light on the demons. He vaguely wondered if they had recorded it.

  The ground shook again, this time stronger.

  “Where's that coming from?” she demanded.

  “I don't know,” one of the angels said. He indicated a dark monitor. “It's from one of the areas of broken coverage.”

  “We could use an engineer right about now,” she muttered.

  “We haven't much time,” another said.

  “Seal the outer gate,” she said. “If it works like it was designed, they still won't find us.”

  Watching the little girl give the orders was exceptionally disturbing. Dave felt more vulnerable here than he had at the other base.

  “You know how to use that thing?” a new angel asked Dave, indicating the periscepter still clutched in his hand. He was like the others. Thin with flowing blond hair and smooth features. He didn't carry a gun.

  “Not too well,” he admitted.

  “Don't worry, they won't find us, even if they take the whole Spire down,” he said. Though he didn't sound too convinced himself.

  “Why not?”

  “When Cibola was built, several sanctuaries like this were placed throughout the city and the outskirts. They were designed in case of an attack. Many have been found and destroyed by the demons. This one eludes them. It is actually on a level beneath the foundation of the Spire.”

  “You haven't been attacked before?”

  “They aren't aware of our presence,” the angel said. “We've been here for over a cycle. At the time, this part of the city had not been resettled by the Dominion. We were sent to gather the computers and
demolish the Spire, but it was long, hard work, and while we were within, a full regiment of demons descended upon this area. They set up camp, and we've never had a chance to escape since. They cleared the debris from the area, and soon, they were building the marketplace.” He studied Dave. “Your human strain is particularly clean. Are the both of you from the same world?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “It is said the four would come from one of the first worlds. Though you are a little different than your friend. There's something in you.”

  Dave didn't like the idea of “something” in him. The angel made it sound like he had some sort of disease. “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn't matter now.”

  “We've never seen angels like you before,” Gramm said.

  The angel cocked his head to the side, puzzled. Then he blinked with comprehension. “Ahh, you came after the attack. Before, the first angel you would meet would be one like myself. My name is Xac. I am a Principality. It was the job of my caste to welcome and aid humans in the new world.”

  Gramm introduced himself and Dave. They each shook hands grabbing onto each other's wrists. Xac was thin and wiry, but his arm felt like it was made from a steel bar.

  “And what about the munchkin?” Dave asked. “How come she's in charge?”

  “Her name is Ashia, and she is a Virtue. She is a caste above Power, but below the Hashmallim. And certainly above you. She is the highest ranking angel here.”

  “What does she do?” Dave asked.

  To his surprise, Gramm answered. “Virtues can visit our world. When you hear about angels coming down from heaven, it's almost always a Virtue.”

  Xac nodded. “That is mostly correct. You know much for a human.”

  “But why is she a little kid?” Dave asked.

  “Virtues can alter their appearance. Their true form brings fear into the hearts of humans, so they often appear as children.”

  “It seems they've stopped attacking the Spire.”

  “They are regrouping. They will summon a larger weapon,” Ashia said from a computer.

  “Before, they had a giant monster eat the base from below,” Dave said. He shivered. “It swallowed the whole place in one bite.”

  Ashia looked ill. “They wouldn't release one of those within the city. They have difficulty controlling them.” She looked around the room. “Do we stay or do we flee?”

  “It's safe here,” an angel answered immediately. “Even if the Spire is destroyed, we won't be discovered.”

  “If the Spire is razed, and they fill the chasm left in the ground, we could become buried here,” another said. “Trapped forever.”

  Ashia thought for a moment. “We can't risk that,” she said finally. “We flee.”

  “How? We'll all be killed. We aren't prepared. We don't even know if they'll destroy the building. Our last indication was they were still studying it. Perhaps the Flamen have already put a stop to the attacks.”

  “The Dominion values the periscepters above any dimension technology,” Xac said. “They are going to rip the building apart piece by piece.”

  A deep rumbling, like thunder rolling off a mountain top, made the ground quake again, this time much stronger.

  “If anyone has a plan, I will hear it now,” Ashia said.

  * * * *

  The Dahhak rector gazed at Ungeo with impassive eyes. They were in his office at the Temple floating just west of the main gate. It was the biggest temple in the sector, almost twice the size of the one that had been attacked by the angels. Ungeo couldn't read what the rector was thinking. They could be so bloody emotionless, especially the particularly religious ones.

  The rector was clad in the long, flowing red robe typical of his position. It was stained almost a dark purple in several places. Blood. She could smell it on him. Human blood, mostly. Such a waste. He wore a black mustache that drooped further than his collar. He smelled of day-old flesh.

  The round office was located near the top of the inverted teardrop-shaped building, just above the main temple where they held their sacrifices. The office was rather spacious, bigger even than her apartment. Several leathers were hung about the wall. Two or three were human, but most were of exotic creatures with odd shapes. A triangular hair rug expanded the length of the room, touching the walls in three places. She wondered how many red-headed humans had been scalped for that.

  “Sanctuary is only granted to those who are of the Moloch faith,” he said.

  “I would like to convert.”

  He leaned back slightly in his chair. It was made of bleached bones with shoal skulls for hand rests. It creaked like it was going to break. “The timing is rather suspicious, wouldn't you agree?”

  “Are my motivations relevant if I'm genuinely interested in your faith?”

  “They wouldn't be if I believed you. The Catechist cares nothing for our appointments. If you're wanted by the council, they would not be fettered by the gates of our temple. We would be forced to respond, and the church would gain an especially dangerous foe. Wouldn't you agree that's a little too much to ask, especially for someone who is of doubtful sincerity?”

  “Yes, but that is only if they are aware of my presence. Why must you tell them?”

  The Dahhak looked irritated. Finally, an emotion. “Sanctuary does not mean you will be concealed.”

  This was not going well. She remembered an overheard conversation from long ago between a Dahhak and a Kostchtchie radio technician. There was a rite to gaining respect within the church. Some sort of game or duel. What was it called? The young Dahhak had constantly bragged about his skill at the game.

  “I would like to take my case to your congregation.”

  The rector snorted. “You'll find them less sympathetic than I.”

  “Then I have no choice but to request a trial.” Damn, what was it called? Ahh yes, I remember now. “A Dance of Libation.”

  The Dahhak didn't move for several moments. “Do you even know what that is?”

  She thought quickly. “I ... I know it's a way to gain favor with the congregation. I've been studying your faith. I really am interested, you see.”

  “You are correct; it is a way to gain favor. It's also a way to get yourself killed.” He paused. “I'll put the question before the congregation. Our fifth day prayers will commence soon, and I'll present you. If any accept your challenge, I'll allow the Trial.”

  He shoved his hand deep into his cloak, pulling out a long stick made of hollowed wood. He shook it twice. A gray dust rose from the stick, ground bone.

  Ungeo clicked her beak, trying to hide her satisfaction. She just bought herself some time. She needed to learn as much about this Libation as possible. She was sure she'd be able to defeat an imbecile Dahhak at the game, but not if she didn't know what she was supposed to be doing. “Excellent. What shall I do in the meantime?”

  “Pray,” the Rector said. “Pray as much as you can.”

  Darkness

  The angels were already hard at work. Now that they had a plan, all the stuff they had piled up seemed to instantly transform to a never-ending accumulation of promise.

  Indigo and Hitomi were given armored vests to wear, but they didn't offer the same protection as the suits they had found before. The vest was heavier than normal cloth, and it felt like something Indigo once wore when she had visited the dentist.

  Another moment, another random memory.

  A few grumbled when they saw the vest covered the twin holes in the back of Indigo's tunic, concealing her scars. There were the vertical slits to accommodate the strange wings of the average angel, but it still covered her skin. Tamael quieted them, pointing out they all were perfectly aware of Indigo's “crime,” therefore the rule about exposing her scars was pointless here.

  Indigo learned the names of the angels that were going to accompany them on the patrol. Iopol and Verdan were both the larger, archangel type. They were surly males. Powers. Iopol was the angel who had swept her
up from the battlefield and brought her here. Polsh was the muscular one who was also an archangel, but an Engineer. Frish was a Power. She had a slight build, almost human sized, with shortly-cropped brown hair. She was always moving her mouth, like she was chewing gum.

  Iopol once again had the duty of carrying Indigo, and the one named Verdan grabbed Hitomi.

  There was something odd about that particular angel, Verdan. The other five seemed to regard him with suspicion. It looked as if Tamael had almost said something when he chose to carry Hitomi but decided against it.

  They wasted no time in further preparation. They flew above the tree line in a diamond formation. Their mighty wings filled the air like the tattered sails of ghost ships sailing across the sky.

  Far to her right, a dark wall of nothing was barely visible through the haze. The Tree of Eternity. Even at this height, she couldn't see the top. It was bigger than she originally thought. A wall of wood. The giant trees below were nothing more than blades of grass against the enormity.

  Later, the trees abruptly ended, and the mist cleared like the pulling apart of musty blinds. As if the graveyard would not allow the smoke to encroach.

  Iopol tightened at the sight of the sand. While their great height had caused the forest to look smaller, it did the opposite for the beach. How many were lost? It was a number Indigo couldn't even fathom. Trillions of trillions.

  A sudden memory struck her. Lying on her back, counting the stars on a moonless night. She was in Virginia, the grass was freshly cut, and the smell soothed her like nothing else on Earth. It was warm, and crickets held vigil around her, singing their nocturnal song. She liked to rub her hands softly over the tops of the grass. She imagined the blades were the hands of people, reaching up for her.

  Upstairs through an open window, her mother's quiet sobs wafted, catching on the wind. She couldn't hear her father, but he was there. He was always there.

  “How many are there?” she had asked the stars. She waited for an answer that wasn't coming. “Too many to count. More than anyone could imagine.”