TF- C - 00.00 - THE FALLEN Dark Fantasy Series: A Dark Dystopian Fantasy (Books 1 - 3)

by Steve Windsor

  “Careful on the blasphemy, babe,” Jump said. Then he smiled and looked at the portal to the dungeon. He rubbed his chest. The scars from the lightning, not to mention his ripped-out hearts, had healed. The shadows and echoes of the pain had not. “She’s in a real fucking mood tonight.”

  Salvation slapped him on the back of his head and his pinfeathers stung. “Don’t even talk like—that’s it, I’m going in!”

  Jump was confused. It had been a while since he had taken a crack on his crown. He prickled his head feathers. “Like what?” he asked. Then he thought about it. “Oh, shit, that’s not what I meant. Jesus, don’t say it like that.”

  “I didn’t say anything, you did,” Salvation said. She started for the portal. “I’ll rip his guts out!”

  Salvation had a thing for guts. Truth be told, every angel in the two Heavens went for the guts first in a fight. It was the softest and most easily picked apart place on … any angel or other creation you were fighting.

  It was also, Rain informed them after she was ordained as Protector and gained the historical knowledge of every eternity since the first, a buried instinct left over from one of the very first eternities.

  It seemed that one of Rain’s Protector predecessors decided it would be a good idea to populate the entire garden with intellectually ignorant, prehistoric-looking birds.

  That didn’t turn out too well, however, and the end of that garden ushered in like every eternity before it. The inhabitants fornicated with such reckless abandon and proficiency that eventually, they ate everything in sight—mowed the garden down to a dusty wasteland—then … they ate each other.

  Jump grabbed onto Salvation’s shoulder. “Not just yet there, wildwing,” he said. “Couple more seconds.” He really only did it to bring her back from wherever she was in her head. Putting on a warface was one thing—Man-monkey in a black Protection van or angry archangel before a judgment trial—puff up your feathers too much, and it was just as likely that the other guy, or angel, would pluck ’em.

  Salvation jerked her shoulder away from him. Her chick was in the dungeon … with that disgusting, lecherous liar and his self-absorbed, wannabe benevolent bitch. There was no telling how much trouble Rain was in. She spread her wings and flexed every steel feather she had until sparks showered the ground.

  Jump stepped back. Better for her to just get it out before she went in. He shook his head—as much in awe as anything else.

  And Salvation screeched above her head and all of her talons scraped out and she stretched her arms above her, and then closed her hand to a fist. She gripped her fingers and talons so hard that they sparked against the steel feathers on her wrists. Then she crowed out a loud war cry.

  Now that he saw how worked up she really was, Jump figured it was just as well to let her go in sooner. Leave her lashed to the leash much longer and she might not be able to stop herself before they got the information they needed. Corpses didn’t talk. Jump had seen that plenty of times. “Go get ’em, tiger,” he said to her.

  And Salvation raced at the portal to the dungeon and it twisted open and a light like neither of them had ever seen blasted out of the entrance, and both of them had to shade their eyes with their wings.

  They went for their sunshields as all manner of hideous howls and whimpering wails screamed out of the dungeons. They fell to their knees and held their ears. It took a couple of seconds for them to shake their heads and push the pinfeathers around their ears to muffle the sound enough so they could stand up.

  Jump was behind Salvation, so he had no idea what she saw inside, but whatever it was, she didn’t like it. She screamed the loudest he had ever heard her screech before. “You sick son of a bitch!” she yelled. Then she ran at the portal. Her wings slammed into the sides of the entrance to the dungeons and sparks flew as she forced her way through. And then the portal twisted shut behind her.

  Jump was left standing in the dark of the arena, eyes still trying to adjust to the “dark-light-dark” blasting they just took. His ears still rang from the sinful sounds that singed them.

  The thing about plans was, even the best ones could go to shit when the feathers started flying. And Salvation cussing and flying into the portal … was not part of the plan.

  — LXXXIX —

  LIVED SMILED AT his concubine, Life. She was busy watching the fall from the corner of their cell. It was an activity that no ruler would deny even the worst of the condemned. For watching beings fall to or from the garden was as effective at controlling followers as television had been at stupefying ancient Man-monkeys so their rulers could enslave them. “Ah, darling,” he snarled and said to Life, “how they frolic in the misery of their loved ones. Your beautiful creatures are so”—he put his hand to his mouth—“lively, dare I say.”

  It had been a long time since Life had felt anything but contempt for her Man-monkeys. She observed the fall with the indifference of a dictator watching elections. She had long ago realized that she set loose the very vermin in her garden that caused … and then required its destruction.

  Life had believed them to be faithful and manageable followers. In the end, that was not the case. So she and Lived created an abomination—an offense against her own laws. And in their hypocrisy… If their son, Jump, the Great Dragon of Judgment, and his bitch, Salvation, hadn’t done it, Life would have burned the entire garden to smoking ash herself just to be rid of it.

  Life smiled wide. Jump and Salvation had help … hadn’t they? She stared at the image of the two girls in the prison cell. Not much different from her own cage, she mused. Life watched Fury fall from her own delusions. It was one of the few joys she had, confined in her own dungeon, watching while she waited to be vengefully violated by yet another of her creations turned against her. “They are already dead,” she said to Lived.

  “Aw,” Lived replied, “do not fret, my love. They were doomed to fail. For you were their mother.”

  Life frowned at him. She had desperately needed her children to love, obey, and honor her covenants … and they had failed her in every way she could imagine. And many ways that she simply could not. Watching them fall—reveling in their misery—was pleasing to her, but it was far more joyful to rule over them and mete out judgment and punishments—salvation and damnation—with a randomness that only a god could take pleasure in.

  Now, Life lived a god’s sentence. It was why Rain left her alone with her failure and lack of power.

  To a slave—a citizen—a prison was no different from most of their lives, but to a ruler, being powerless was as miserable a punishment as they could imagine. “Is this how it is to be … forever?” she asked Lived. “You are to rule over a kingdom of one, stripped of every fallen soldier you once had, save for a barren and abandoned deity to torment.” She stood up and her black orbs glowed. “You strut in your cage like a lion in one of their zoos, pretending you are fierce and ferocious while you are fed a steady diet of delusion and defeat.” She knew she was boiling Lived’s blood. That was what he needed. It was what she wanted. “Yes, you are a great and powerful devil, my Day Star. A master of nothing.”

  Lived’s blood was boiling, but taking her by force had become boring and there were truths mingled with her words. That was the best place to disguise them, he knew that. Sprinkle the proper amount of truth in with the lies he wanted to tell… Soon enough, there wasn’t a Man-monkey or archangel birthed or created that could tell the difference.

  Lived paused and thought about the best course forward. “And yet … I am your master,” he said. Then he slithered up behind her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and hissed into her ear. He ran his long tongue down to the middle of her back, to just above her…

  Life closed her eyes—it was pleasurable—her tactic had failed. She might as well enjoy what little she could. An eternity was a long, long time. She knew that all too well. Yet, the time to turn the tables would come soon enough.

  Lived slithered his tongue back into his mouth. He lic
ked his lips with it on the way. “A master whom you openly defy every instance you find occasion to speak.”

  Life smiled in front of her, away from him. Her plan might succeed after all. “Forgive me … my master,” she said. Then she stepped forward, pulling herself from his grip. She lay down on the blood-sweating floor of their cell. She spread herself open—wings and will. Then she retracted all of her once-beautiful white feathers and she spoke softly up at him, “Shall I lie here and pretend for you again?” Then she spoke more harshly, “No, no … not that.” And she quickly stood up, walked angrily away from him—across the floor to the edge of their cell—and then she leaned against the bars on the iron gates. She spread her wings wide and her legs this time, too. Then she hung her head. “Take me, my great and powerful master … please,” she mocked.

  Lived growled at her.

  And then Life raised her head and squeezed on the bars as hard as she could. And she gritted her teeth as she shined her feathers and wings to brighter than she had since being cast into their cell. “From behind, so I may be spared the torment of looking into your eyes … at my greatest failure’s impotent soul!”

  Lived was livid. He bared himself —retracted all of his body feathers—and raced across the cell at Life, snarling and spitting flames, his snakes hissing as he ran. No one—god, girl, or grandmother in hell—could be allowed to speak …

  The brightest and warmest light in Heaven or Hell shined and blasted white-hot truth into the dark lies of the dungeons. It far outshined Life’s glowing brightness. And all manner of vile creature howled and cawed and crowed, and then ran for the safety of the corners of their cages, trying to escape the burning bright. But there was no escaping truth. Truth was simply there for all to see … and so was Rain.

  Rain floated down the center of the outer ring of the dungeon tunnels. She rarely justified a visit to the insidious place. It felt like some of it… The taste in her mouth and the smell in her nostrils would last for days after she left.

  The creatures down here were condemned and abandoned with good reason, and they cowered and covered their glowing red eyes as she passed their cells.

  But one particularly vile soul—Jump had warned her against keeping the putrid pup around—raced at the gate to his cage, snarling and biting at the bars as he spoke, “I’ll eat your soul,” he spat, “and then I’ll fuck your mother in the ass, like I—”

  And Rain lifted her hand with as much effort as a steed swatting a fly with its tail and—CRACK!

  A huge bolt of lightning blasted the disgusting creature and it lit up to a white-hot, star-shining glow, and then it exploded into sparks and glowing chunks of smoking flesh and blood. The chunks wriggled and crawled, trying to reach the other parts and when they did, each part caught fire and melted back into the other.

  Rain turned up her nose and scrunched her face. “Disgusting,” she said. She kept floating down the tunnel. One of the “perks” of power was that she didn’t need to fully flap her wings to hover above the ground. She could simply flutter them. And faster than most angels could even see, her wings vibrated like a hovering hummingbird and she hummed slowly down the passageway.

  Behind her, the creature struggled to recreate its miserable shell.

  “She was entirely justified in killing you,” Rain said. She looked ahead of her again—at the cells upon putrid, piss-smelling cells of forgotten and filthy souls she condemned. “Anyone else care to tell me who they are going to…? My mother? It is no wonder that my father—he is right, I should annihilate all of you.”

  While the dog-creature was busy picking up the pieces of its putrid existence, probably preparing to assault Rain’s heritage again, the rest of the “occupants” in the dungeon crowed and cawed and screeched at the light. To dark souls beyond redemption, the light of the truth burned like acid. The wailing continued.

  “All of you,” Rain said. She stopped and hovered, humming in front of the cage that housed the worst of them. “You two blaspheming schemers in particular.” She stared in at Lived.

  Lived stood with his plumage fully retracted—naked—seemingly dumbstruck, and for the moment at least, screechless in mid-stride.

  “Ich!” Rain said to him. “Put on your plumage, liar. That thing is disgusting!” She looked Life in the eyes. Her once-ruthless master, vanquished by Rain’s own father, still gripped the bars on the gate to their cell. “And you, the Chosen One of your children, look at you. Have some dignity—cover yourself. How far you have both fallen!” Rain turned away from their cell and spoke to the rest of them, “Now you see,” she said. She turned down her bright light—just enough so the creatures would stop screaming, but not enough to allow the dank dungeon to return to its shadowy self. “All of you, this is how those that you defiled were treated. Burning in agony at your deceptions, poisoned by the fruits of your lies, wanting for justice while you delivered only misery. You are beasts … best sent to slaughter, I am told. And yet I wonder … is there none among you worthy of redemption?”

  None spoke or made noise. The silence was deafening. Rain could smell the fear—putrid piss-smell of Purgatory—of fallen angels in limbo, too afraid of the Devil to speak. She wrinkled her face and debated breathing through her mouth, but then thought better of it—she knew the taste would be worse. “As I suspected,” she said, looking up and down the huge tunnel. “You yourselves realize the futility of your forgiveness.” Yet she knew Lived would not. His long tongue could not be expected to remain tied for long. So before he untied it, she swung her arm behind her and without looking back, she pointed right at his wrong heart and said, “Look what they have all sacrificed in the name of your black heart.” She pulled her hand back. “See what he has offered you—evil and iniquity and the loss of your innocence. How violated you must all feel, sacrificing your beautiful souls to this liar. Defiled and desecrated for him and for Life. And to what purpose? A few moments of his pleasure? Of hers?”

  Indeed, Rain was correct about one thing: Lived never remained quiet for long. The flames of his voice hissed and spit behind her, “Sacrifices? What do you know of this? You do not understand their sacrifices. Were it so, I would gladly offer them. Yet, you are not pleased with burnt offerings, either … as we all can see. And still you ask each of us to make sacrifice with a humble spirit, Rain the almighty. Yet you reject our humble and repentant hearts … as you always have.”

  Rain’s voice screamed as an eagle, “Silence, you blaspheming liar!” She turned to face his cell again. “None shall recite from her book. And you—you twist her words around your tongue as you speak.”

  “As I happily twist it around her tits, you impudent whelp!”

  “Do not tempt—” Rain started to say, but then she cut her statement short and tried to calm herself. It would do no good, threatening a devil who had himself threatened billions upon billions of souls. Trading taunts with an expert was not part of the plan. That was a task better left to someone with the … proper skills. And that someone would arrive soon enough. “Your temptation is wasted on me, liar,” she continued. “You will find no quarrel with me. Your warring ways are no longer welcome in the house of the Lord.”

  “Lord?” Lived said. “Hah, you are a little girl, playing with matches.” He waved his hand back and forth, motioning up and down the tunnel at the remnants of his followers. “But all of these little sticks burn, sweet and innocent child. You would do well to remember that.”

  Life had covered herself in her white plumage. The small patches of dingy gray and pink on them now had grown larger since Rain’s last visit. No doubt from half an eternity spent on her back on the floor of their cell.

  And the great mother of the last eternity knelt down and cowered at the rear of the room she and her lover now called their dominion. From behind her lying lover, Lived, Life stared back at Rain.

  In order to look at her, Rain had to gaze right past Lived’s snakes. “Oh great Garden of Eden, how do you tolerate…?” She closed her eyes a
nd tilted her head up a little. Then she opened them and looked Lived in the eyes. “I have warned you, put it away before I crop it like your tail, you miserable—” Then she noticed something and she stared at Life’s black orbs, glowing slightly, covered from Rain’s light by Lived’s shadow. Life’s orbs rarely did that, and Rain thought for a few seconds. It was clear that Lived was not going to put on his plumage, and she considered fulfilling her promise of cutting his snake. It could wait until Jump finished with him. “He really tempted Eve with that … thing?” Rain asked Life.

  Life blinked her orbs a few times, obviously trying to turn down their glow. “It was a different eternity,” she replied. Then she stood up.

  Rain pointed at her—right at her eyes—carefully positioning her arm to block her view of Lived’s snakes. “Different… Yes, I remember this, great mother.” She swirled her finger a little at Life’s eyes. “In that time, those only did that when you were excited about … something. I remember how you watched me fight for your judgments.” She looked up at the ceiling, oozing and dripping above the cell. “And since there are no trials tonight, I wonder … if it is not your beautiful Day Star—which clearly, at this point, how could it be—then what, may I ask, has you so … aroused?”

  Lived’s hands were on his hips now, and he stood as an evil Adonis—legs spread and chest puffed like a peacock. Then he spread his great bloodstained wings as wide as their cell would allow and the tips scraped and sparked against the granite walls. He made sure to place one of them directly in front of Life, obscuring most of the top half of his concubine’s body. All that peeked over was the top of her head … and her shining orbs.

  Wings were one of the ways that angels “spoke.” Often times communicating more than speech. Right now, Lived was threatening Rain, while at the same time controlling his concubine—exercising what little power he had left, as well as defying Rain’s orders. Because truly, her words were, in effect, the law of this eternity.