“Wait,” he called as she rushed out. She wasn't thinking clearly, overcome with panic. “Derkea! Derkea!”
She had little strength herself, but she left the pyramid, careful to return the trap door. As she left, she noticed the stumps of the four columns—already smashed by either the demon army or one of those bothersome crabs—crackled with invisible energy. The death of Cabael within had charged them.
Derkea flew and flew. But she couldn't find a gray oak. She searched impossibly long. Truet's words echoed in her head. Don't make me die alone.
She swooped in at a cluster of mammoth trees, and there she saw it. A gray oak. A direct offspring of the Tree of Eternity. It was beautiful. She let the current take her down.
That's when the arrow pierced her. A perfect hit, right in the underarm and all the way through. The head was barbed and poisoned, and she dropped like a stone. She tried to change form as she fell, but she couldn't. She didn't have the strength.
She hit the ground, and they were on her. Shoals. The small demons that accompanied their larger brethren like rats on a ship. Hundreds of them.
They clawed and bit, holding her down on her stomach. She wasn't strong enough to move, and she screamed. She struggled and struggled, but to no avail.
Don't make me die alone. She had promised.
A blade entered her side, and the pain was incredible. Hundreds of thoughts and images flashed in her mind. Truet couldn't survive much longer. And if she died now, the humans would have no guidance. They wouldn't know what the periscepters were, how to use them, where to go. The demons would finally win, and it would be her fault.
The small demons laughed and shrieked. Greasy, disfigured hands grasped her hair, yanking her neck back. A knife was presented to her throat, and it began to slide into her flesh.
No. She couldn't allow it.
She was a powerful angel, and even though she had no strength left, she found a reserve somewhere, and she threw them off her. It gave her a moment. And that was all she needed.
She reached and scrabbled until her hands found the dropped blade. A sword to the demons, but almost too small for her. Her weak, trembling fingers grasped at it. Already they raged back at her.
The world of the closest active beacon was where she would go. She prayed Cabael's death had been enough to properly charge the beacon. It was the only way. She would become human, and she would bear the cicatrix when—if—she returned.
“I mark myself,” she cried. “I give myself the strength to retain all my memory. To know when to properly return.” It wasn't a Seraphim power, but it might work. It had to. Her human form would know when to perish. She prayed and prayed.
She took the blade, rolled over, and plunged it into her own chest.
“Truet, Father, forgive me,” she cried as the light fled from her sight, from her mind.
The memory was terrible. Indigo's cheeks were wet with tears when she thought of Truet. He must have lived a long time afterwards, the length of Indigo's entire human life. And when he finally did pass, it was his energy that caused the beacon to flash on for just a moment. To allow all five of them to return.
She had promised he would not die alone, but he had. Even now, though he was only a vague memory, it burned.
Indigo remained in the small Seraph chamber, waiting for an answer or some sign Tamael's plea had found enough ears. Most of the regular radio signals were still jammed or not working, so it would be difficult for them to know if they'd been heard.
Some of the angels went out to explore, but she remained here with her thoughts. She had a great guilt for not retaining her memory. If she had known....
Gramm, Dave, Hitomi, and Rico. They were the four. She was the fifth. The one not mentioned in the prophecy. By some miracle she died at the correct moment, and even though she hadn't retained her angel memory into human life, perhaps she had marked herself correctly. Perhaps something she had done had caused herself to return. She just didn't know. Maybe she would if she truly was still a Seraph, but a majority of the vast knowledge she had was gone.
“Your Honor,” the Ophan said, startling her. He hadn't spoken since he told them where to find this room. Here, his voice sounded as close as it did by the lake.
“Yes,” Indigo said.
“There is a matter of concern occurring below that I can sense. It's out of my range of vision, but a great battle is currently underway in the Athenaeum. I can feel the loss of life and damage to the Tower. Demons fighting demons.”
“Really?” Indigo said, surprised. She looked at Tamael, who shrugged.
“It appears one group is intent upon destroying the Sphere. A smaller crowd is zealously defending it. I feel one of the four pillars is already cracked. If two of them fall, the Sphere will be thrown askew, inciting chaos within. If three pillars fall, it will crash and shatter.”
“Holy crap!” Indigo cried, jumping up. If the Sphere was destroyed, she knew the Absolute Darkness would wash over Cibola like a crashing wave. Every angel would die. Did the demons somehow learn this? Was that their intention? And if so, who was defending it?
“We must do something,” Indigo said. “We have to do it now.”
“We can't get down there fast enough,” Tamael said. “No way.”
The Ophan spoke. “The Tower's aorta can swiftly carry you to the bottom of the Cherub level from its top. And back again.”
“The Tower's what?” Tamael asked.
“I remember,” Indigo said. She wanted to slap herself on the forehead. It was like an elevator, but it didn't actually move, it transferred you from one point to the next. The same technology was used to make that Jhunayn's Spire and the Sphere itself. If they had used it to get up here, it would have taken mere moments, not the days of flying. As Derkea, she had used the aorta often. “We can be there in a flash.”
“How many are there?” Tamael asked.
“I do not know.”
Tamael sighed. “Ophan, there's nothing you can do?”
“No. Not unless they come for this gate.”
“We have no choice,” Indigo said. “If we lose the Sphere, we lose everything.”
“I know,” Tamael said. “I know.”
* * * *
The transport rode in a convoy with the entire squadron. Over 100 ships, with many more—about two whole regiments—coming from other directions. About halfway through the flight, a transport three rows over inexplicably exploded, rocking their own ship in the turbulence. Then another. Ko shivered at the sight of flaming metal plummeting to the city below. The convoy scattered after that, and they rode high and fast, the inside cabin bucking and rearing like a wild beast in the storm.
Already, much of the Dominion was locked in fighting with one another. The loss of the Dahhak was a major blow to the Dominion military, and the Asag constituted the strongest of the mechanized ground force. But Daityas mechanics mostly controlled the tanks and ground skiffs the Asag required, and fierce battles were being reported in the transportation depots. Plumes of smoke rose from just about everywhere.
Behind him, Tix listened intently to the radio. She announced report after report, each one more surprising than the last. All the Overseers confirmed slain. The entire council dead. Uzkiev was acting Dominion leader. “They've ordered all humans to report to the camps,” she said. “They've ordered the Sphere destroyed.”
“I don't understand,” Captain muttered. “It simply makes no sense.”
That's when it hit Ko. Uzkiev and Ascot. Broken Fist. It would explain so much. They certainly wouldn't have wanted this, but it would be an incredible opportunity for their cause. They hated the humans. They thought their worlds corrupted by their presence. Under the pretext of war, they could finally achieve their victory.
Damn them, Ko thought. Damn them all.
Uzkiev and Ascot, they were no better than Ungeo. But still, Ko couldn't bring himself to hate them like he did the Charun. In the end, this was still her doing. It was her responsibilit
y for this war they fought right now. It was she who presented this opening for Broken Fist to finally make their move.
“We land behind the enemy force,” Captain announced. He now wore a head communicator underneath his battle helmet. Ko didn't envy him. “In a transport bay for the dock. We will flank them. For Asag, aim at their legs. For Dahhak, kill them like you would angels.” The ship began to bank, the landing thrusters whined. Captain pulled out his rifle and flipped a dial. “Weapons on.”
As the ship turned, Ko got a full view of the raging battle. For the first time in a long while, he suppressed a giggle. The last large-scale battle he had seen was the assault on the subterranean angel base. And then, that had been through cameras while he was far, far away, completely safe.
This made that battle look like two children squabbling over a toy. The Division's grande-commander who had ordered only two regiments to this particular clash was either terribly misinformed or deliberately sabotaging the effort. The Asag spread like bubbling lava, steaming as it was pelted with the rain. There had to be at least 100,000 of the giant demons in the area. That was just on this side, and surely just as many were flanking the massive transport depot. Intermixed in their ranks was at least a half-regiment strength fleet of armored skiffs and ground artillery.
This was the edge of the city, and spread beyond through the jagged hole in the thick wall—blasted and drilled after the occupation to make way for the port—was the blue ether. Normally calm, it thrashed about like an angry sea. Though Ko wasn't sure why. The clouds shied away from the ether, revealing only the red sky.
The transportation depot spread for a great distance on top of a plateau, perhaps once a herbarium, but it was hardly worth the effort for so many demons. The Daityas, Shishi, and Sedim workers desperately held off the siege. A buffeting inferno rocked back and forth between the two camps. A constant roar consumed the air, heard even over the whine of the transport and the rain, and a stream of colored light screamed back and forth as the two forces clashed.
And we're going to fight them. The realization didn't really affect him until that moment. They were bigger, better trained, and there were a lot of them. A whole lot.
Would they tell Qulp his father had died a soldier's death? Would that make him proud? Ko pulled away the clear safety coverlet and disengaged the trigger lock. The colossal gun lurched with power. The auto-aiming system came online in his helmet, already reprogrammed to seek Asag and Dahhak targets.
The transport crunched as it hit the ground. The back of the Asag mass was close, but out of blast range. Surely they'd seen them come in. Ko expected the artillery to come raining down on them at any moment. The transport's door yawned, revealing a world of fire and rain. And the stench of the Sedim ovens, but magnified tenfold.
“Go!” Captain yelled. The platoon hurried out, rushing for the wall of the port customs building. Tix fell in beside him, miserable in the downpour. He knew it must be torture for her to remain on the ground. But while Shishi were the fastest flyers, staying off the ground in the torrent was impossible for more than just a moment.
“Plans changed,” Captain called suddenly, speaking into his radio. “To the port!”
Ko felt an odd disappointment and simultaneous relief as they turned back and went through the archway of the quarantine wall, leaving the enormous city fortification between them and the fighting. Artillery salvos sailed over their heads and into the cerulean ether, sometimes exploding overhead with deafening concussions and multi-colored stars in the storm-covered sky.
“Port detects a large number of incoming transportation vessels,” Captain said. “They should crest at any moment. We don't know their origin, so don't fire until we see who it is. A whole Division is coming to help with this and the Asag behind.”
Other platoons were set up on the narrow strip of land between the wall and the ether. Sedim gunners hastily erected their six-barreled anti-angel racks at semi-regular intervals. They covered them with tarp to protect them from the storm. Ko's heart raced with anticipation. What if it was Dahhak? Their transports would open at the top, and the demons would burst into the sky, free to rain fire on them from above. The wall would trap the Footies. He placed himself on a rocky slope, just enough to conceal most of his bulk. He aimed his gun at the ether and waited, soaked to the core and shivering.
The bubbling ether began to mist, a sign a transport was coming. But the vapor rose from as far as he could see. Big ones. His hand trembled.
“Steady,” Captain called. “No one fire until I give the order.”
Ko adjusted his weapon, giving it full power. It quivered on his stump, the vibrations shaking his teeth. By Jehu, he prayed. Let them be friends.
The silver tops of the ships emerged like behemoths from the deep. They belched black fumes and the dark sound of burdened machinery. Beasts of hell gasping for air. Each one the size of a large air transport. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them.
“Steady,” Captain cried.
The monsters pulled forward to the edge of land. They were wider and taller than normal port ships by almost tenfold. An artillery shell exploded on the top of one to no effect. Ko slowly began to realize he knew where these ships were from. He had ridden in one himself on his journey here. Not quite relieved, he lowered his weapon.
“Overseers,” Ko called to the captain over the rain. Next to him, Tix let out a stream of breath.
A moment later, the colossal doors of one crashed down, confirming what Ko had said. Overseers dressed in their ridiculous ornamental combat armor filled the transports, many already astride steeds. The steeds were Vangs, gray armored beasts with six legs and two horns atop their beaked snouts. The Overseers of old rode them in battle, but Ko doubted any of these fat fools had ever even trotted on one. The helmets of the Overseers were decorated with rainbow-colored brushes, and some wore feathered headdresses that cascaded to the ground. Even some of the Vangs were colorfully outfitted like dolls.
“What are they doing here?” Tix asked, suppressing her feline laugh. She shook her head, though it did no good as the water continued to fall on her. “They look like over plumped game turkeys.”
“They're here to defend their precious honor,” Ko said. “They sure got here fast. They never liked the Dahhak, and now they probably mean to ‘help’ us defeat them.”
“Well there are a lot of them, that's for sure.”
The mid-commander, a Charun, strode forward to speak with one of the Overseers. Ko manually tracked her with his weapon, pretending she was Ungeo. She nodded and turned away. She began to relay orders on her microphone.
“We are to cover them while they disembark,” Captain said after a moment. “They've come to help us.”
“The last time the Overseers fought for themselves was when they conquered my world,” Ko said. “That was long before any of us were born.”
Captain shrugged. “They were slaughtered mercilessly, and they've come to help us. Besides, they say Asag are frightened by bright colors.”
Behind them on the other side of the wall, the battle continued to rage. Though Ko couldn't see what was happening, he could tell it had taken up a fevered pitch. Both sides likely had received reinforcements by now.
The Overseers had mechanical winches that pulled themselves onto their beasts. It was slow going, and the obese clowns sometimes fell off, usually to the jeers of the Footies covering them. When the first line of ships were finally empty, they closed up and sank, allowing the second line behind them to come forward.
“This is going to take forever,” Tix groaned.
* * * *
Rico watched Hitomi pace back and forth, back and forth. She was antsy as hell. He wanted to get out of here too, but Moloch said stay put. He hated waiting. None of them could sleep, and Hitomi, timid Hitomi, wanted nothing more than to get back out there and start kicking ass.
He respected it for sure. She was worried about Indigo and Dave, and she wanted to find and help them. He probably
could transport them to the Tower. It was far, and the effort would most likely knock him out, but he could do it. However, Hitomi said there were angels there, and he didn't think he'd be able to control himself. These guys didn't understand what the angels had done to their people. Maybe in time, but not yet.
Gramm was curious about teleporting, so to pass the time Rico tried to show him how to do it. Surprisingly, Gramm began to pick it up almost right away. It had taken Rico the equivalent of a month of constant work just to get himself to move a meter. Already, Gramm was popping around the room. After a few tries, he could start bringing objects with him, which was another hurdle. Then he started moving other things around by themselves, something Rico didn't even know was possible.
“Man, this is so easy,” Gramm said, voice filled with wonder. “If everyone knew how to do this, we ... we wouldn't be slaves anymore.”
“It's not that. You're a natural,” Rico said. “It's hard for most people.”
“Look at this!” Hitomi called. Her head peeked out of Moloch's private chamber. “Look at what I found.”
“Hitomi,” Rico cried. “You aren't allowed in there!” Distracted, he didn't notice she had wandered away. When he had first come to this place, Moloch had told him that his room was strictly off limits. At first Rico had been tempted to sneak in, but the repeated warnings about being filleted and baked in butter had dissuaded him. He'd never once set foot past this room.
“He has hundreds of TV monitors in here. He can see anything that's going on everywhere,” she said. “There's fighting all over the place.”
“Really?” Gramm said.
“No,” Rico said, blocking the way. “We aren't allowed in there!”
“Come on,” Gramm said. He disappeared and reappeared right behind Rico. “If he catches us, we'll just say we forced you.”
“No,” Rico said again, getting alarmed. “He won't like it.”
“The old Rico would've been the first one in here,” Hitomi said. She ducked back into the room, followed closely by Gramm.
There was an irony in that, but he wasn't going to point it out now. He went to the door. If they weren't going to listen, he was gonna make them.
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