The song was unlike any Mickie had heard from the Kindle Kin, a collective roar, discordant yet driven with purpose. There was an element to the sound beyond the physical, a weight that seemed to press upon something within him. It left Mickie incoherent for a time, lying on the broken floor as the world twisted and folded upon itself. Even as the music battered at his soul, an inherent part of the music conveyed an intent. He was not the one for which this song was performed. He was simply a bystander, whipped by the winds of the storm but not at its centre.
Within him the hollow fractured under the mounting pressure, his natural defences crumbling under the weight on his soul. Mickie was flooded by emotions he had set aside, the pity, the pain and the grief. They swept through him, carried on a wave of foreign thoughts and emotions. The fury of the silent, the longing for direction, the agony of flesh unmade. It was the cumulative rage of the Kindle Kin, screamed at the Mechanist with such ferocity that the world quaked. Scenes danced across his mind, Aria’s lifeless corpse flicked from a chitinous leg, a young boy lying dead on the floor, Lu’s expression when he told her he was abandoning the family. And a room, white tiles, cold air. Cold as the barrel against the back of his head. The sound of tears. His sister Lucia’s sobs. The sound of them rang louder than even the song. At the time he had been empty, pushed everything aside in a desperate grab for dignity at the end of his life. Now however, there was no distractions, no hollow. He felt the agony of the betrayal as if it was happening in real time. As if Lucia had the gun to his head at that very moment. The command to fire was muted, inconsequential compared to the person who followed it. When the shot came it was the roar of thunder, cutting through all other noise to leave his soul quivering.
Then Mickie remembered something he though impossible to truly recall, the aftermath of his death.
The world became a shifting realm of kaleidoscopic grayscale, an infinity sucked dry if its colour, yet still endless in the space between white and black. Through this murky water between life and death something had emerged. A clawed hand. Not much larger than his own, yet simultaneously domineering as a monster rising from the deep. It grasped him and pulled him down. Mickie was drawn into the depths, and the endless grey flayed him as he went.
With the abruptness of a summer storm, the song suddenly quieted, dropping to a susurrus murmur. The alleviated pressure upon Mickie was like air to a drowning man. He desperately called upon the hollow and pushed aside the confusing recollection. Slowly the palace lobby came into focus, a forest of quivering black cables emerging from shattered floor tiles. The Mechanist appeared frozen, even more stunned than he had been, and showing no sign of recovery. Beyond the machines extensive reach was a wall of steel bodies, even now hacking down the unmoving tentacles. Mickie tried to rise but found his limbs weak, the combined battering of body and soul proving too much even for his demonic regeneration. The still corpse of Aria lay some distance away, and he started a pathetic crawl towards it.
A change in the hybrid Kindle Kin brought the ragged man to a halt. They had stopped attacking and were now shifting aside to let something through. For a moment he glimpsed the mass of singers within, then the metal giants were resealing the gap as a figure emerged. Mickie recognized the Conductor by the milky white of its sightless eyes. The ancient being stepped into the shivering sea of limbs, unhurried and unafraid. As it walked the low tone of the song rose, a disquiet rhythm thumping with each step of the old singer. The rising volume put pressure on Mickie, and he had to concentrate to keep his head clear of unwanted emotions and memories. A ways into the forest of plastic and steel the blind Kindle Kin came to a halt. It simply stood for a spell, contemplating something in the ongoing music. Then the creature began to hum, low and resonant, with such intensity that Mickie could feel the ground shiver in response.
Like a flock of birds, the other Kindle Kin dove into the rhythm of the Conductors tune. Their collective voice held the same meaning as before yet became shaped by their leader. The low hum oscillated, and as a shepherd would with their flock, corralled the larger melody. Mickie felt it, the alleviation on his soul as the music was drawn inwards. Even the Mechanist seemed to feel the effects, limbs twitching more vigorously as it tried to reassert itself. When the music was concentrated about the lone figure, the Conductor began to sing in earnest.
A tune that spiralled and twisted, rising upwards even as it told a story of being dragged downwards. Of a role taken were that never should have been, of force that swallowed the very world, of an entire species, locked up as tightly as it had been in its prison. As the Conductor sang the rest of the Kindle Kin followed, an endless orchestra riding its wake until they reached a peak. Mickie could feel it, up in an ethereal something, a hammer hanging above the glass of his soul. There was a heartbeat in which quiet overcame all, the silent moment before impact. Then the Conductor let lose a note a victory, of rage, and of pain. The crescendo tipped and fell, not a hammer in the hands of the grey leader but a spear with a tip shaper than any scalpel. Mickie felt it pass him, goosebumps rippling along his flesh. The killing edge formed from the collective voices of the Kindle Kin drove into the Mechanist, and it could do nothing to resist. All around the castle shook as the music halted and the insane machine died, truly and completely.
It took time for palace to stop quaking, like the death throes of a gargantuan beast, it slowly stilled into an eternal silence. All about Mickie the tentacles dropped lifeless to the floor, nothing but limp plastic and rigid steel now the Mechanist was gone. A silence gripped the chamber, as if the Conductor had used up all the sound in the world for this one strike. Mickie could only hear the thudding of his heart as he stood unsteadily and limp forward. There was something he needed to do before this moment of peace ended, someone he needed to honour.
With no monsters or machines at his throat, it did not take long for Mickie to reach Aria. His friend of little more than a few hours was a wreck of blood and twisted limbs after her tumble across the floor. With firm hands he set about straightening the dead woman out, lying the body on its back with arms across the jagged hole in her chest. Even with both limbs to cover it, Rainzell’s killing blow was still large enough to be visible. So, Mickie gingerly pulled the scorched rags of his own shirt off to cover it. Then he knelt by pale head of the lifeless woman, its skin somehow free of blood despite her grievous wound. Mickie reached to close her eyes but paused. His hands were filthy, coated in blood and ichor. It did not take long to strip the fingerless gloves off, setting them aside before wiping off his fingers as best he could. Even then some grime streaked Aria’s face when he was done. With dignity thus restored Mickie bent forward and gently kissed his friend’s brow, just as he had been taught as a child.
‘I swear I will show them. As you have asked of me, so it shall be.’
The words were little more than a whisper, yet they seemed to echo through the silent lobby. Like a spell had been broken, noise returned, the sound of metal footsteps ringing through the chamber. Beside Mickie the air vibrated softly, a voice forming from nothing.
‘Strange to see one such as you care for those who have gone to the river.’
He turned to find the Conductor standing nearby. The blind Kindle Kin appeared like a balloon that had lost some air, sagging and exhausted. Whatever the creature had done to kill the Mechanist must not have been easy.
‘And what would you know about me?’
‘You are a Song Spinner, the harmony knows of you and so do I.’
Mickie frowned and stood.
‘Well, your songs must not cover it all then. Aria gave her life, and asked something of me in exchange. So, it’s something I’ll do.’
The conductor tilted its head slightly.
‘So not sentiment then, but duty?’
The branded man coughed out a chuckle.
‘Duty. No, that’s something given or expected, this is more personal. Something between individuals, a debt.’
Checking his body for wounds Mickie shifted the topic.
‘What did you do to the Mechanist? I knew you all had something up your sleeve when the normal Kindle Kin entered, I just don’t get how you killed the machine with a song.’
A pair of hybrids made their way over, shifting the dead tentacles they could not cut easily.
‘To my people the harmony is all, and with it we can touch upon things beyond the physical.’
He gave the creature a tired look, one it somehow interpreted without eyesight.
‘Simply put, we struck at the very soul of the Mechanist, the only part of its body that was not replaceable. It is a cruel way to defeat a foe, though one we deemed necessary.’
‘Why would it be cruel, I mean, from what I saw the bag of bolts didn’t suffer that long.’
The old singer took a slow breath.
‘Not because of pain. The death of a soul is a true death. There will be no river for those who have no soul with which to enter it.’
Mickie thought of the void below and shuddered. Honestly, he was not certain if absolute nothing was worse than that. The pair of hybrids arrived, stomping to a halt beside the human and Kindle Kin. When a brief silence past without a response, the Conductor continued.
‘So, will you rest for a time? I understand you have questions you wish answered.’
With a look to the stairs Mickie considered. He finally had an opportunity to leave the palace, and who knew when the next obstacle might arrive. Yet he was exhausted and bloody. Heading into a hostile environment like this might be riskier than waiting to recover. There was also the matter of answers. Perhaps the Conductor could give him some information on what waited above.
Before Mickie could voice a decision, a new arrival caught his attention. Picking his way through the mass of Kiddle Kin by the door was an old man. Karsus got free of the crowd and hurried over to where they stood. Over his shoulder hung a rifle, though his clothes appeared unruffled. Too busy coordinating a war to do any real fighting it seemed.
‘By the blood, you did it. The Palace Lord and the Mechanist both. It’s inconceivable.’
The Conductor smiled at the sound of its subordinate’s voice.
‘Indeed, we have taken the head from the snake. Though the credit is not just mine, our young friend is the arbiter of this strike.’
Karsus gave Mickie a surprised look, before noticing the body of the woman behind him.
‘Is that Aria? How did she get caught up in this? I thought she had decent instincts for trouble.’
Mickie found he did not feel like explaining the situation to the old man. Instead, he turned to the Conductor.
‘I think I’ll take you up on your offer. Though I do have something to ask.’
The creature gave a slow nod.
‘We shall assist if we can.’
‘Give Aria a proper send off, something better than a pit out on the ice. I don’t know was passes for a burial around here, but she deserves it. You have her to thank for this as much as me. It was Aria that killed the Palace Lord. The Mechanist might have finished it off, but Aria was the one who weakened it.’
The old man seemed taken aback by that, yet the Conductor only gave another nod.
‘The imps lower their own into the depths beneath the castle. It shall be the same for her.’
Not exactly the send off Mickie had in mind, though with burial not an option he supposed it was the best they had. A sudden curse from Karsus had drew his attention, only to find the old man raising a rifle in his direction. Instantly Mickie’s own gun was in his hand, pointed at the human leader’s head. It was only the two metal giants that held his fire, they were close, and he was still recovering. They might get him before he slipped away. Karsus glared at the barrel, his own rifle not quite in position, though still pointed towards Mickie’s body.
‘Con, it’s the mark of the Soul Lord. On his hand. I knew something was familiar about that gun of his.’
The Conductor was not ruffled as it replied.
‘We know of the mark. It reverberates within him, tying him to another. One that is hidden.’
Karsus gave his boss a wide eye look.
‘Then why is he still standing? It’s the mark of the fucking Soul Lord!’
Milky eyes swayed as the old singer gave a shake of its head.
‘Not the Soul Lord. A branch. The symbols differ.’
That was met with a scoff from the old man.
‘Like it matters. Anything related to that fiend is more than trouble, it’s a rot that will poison us all.’
Karsus lifted his rifle and Mickie’s finger tightened on the trigger. Metal hybrids or not he would blow the old man to pieces before taking a bullet. At that instant a hulking claw of dark steel reached out and grasped the barrel of the weathered human’s rifle. Mickie just managed to hold his fire as the gun was pulled from Karsus’ hands. The old man’s head swivelled between the hybrid clutching his weapon and the Conductor.
‘What are you doing Con? He cannot be allowed to survive.’
Somehow that seemed to annoy the blind singer, its voice reverberated through the air, harder than before.
‘I have nothing to do with it Karsus. The kin act of their own will, I am a guide, not a puppet master.’
Its volume dropped back to normal.
‘Mickie is a Song Spinner. No kin would stand by while he came to harm.’
Karsus still seemed ready to object, so Mickie decided to cut in.
‘Look old boy. I don’t even know who the Soul Lord is, but if that big fellow hadn’t stopped you then I’d have turned you into minced meat.’
All he received in response an angry glare. Even if the old man was not content, there was little he could do without a weapon. Mickie dismissed his gun and turned back to the Conductor.
‘I know you said answers later, but I feel like I’ve gone long enough already without knowing. Who was the Soul Lord?’
A susurration like a sigh rippled through the air.
‘I suppose that would be particularly prevalent for you. Very well, I shall walk with you to a room and explain.’
With that the Conductor turned and waved an arm to the mingling Kindle Kin. In gradual clusters they turned and walked out of the large lobby. As the space emptied several still forms were revealed, casualties of the fight against the mechanist. Another song filled the silence left by the Conductors attack, a thumping rhythm of freedom that held little impact. After what Mickie had just experienced, he doubted even the war song would have been able to stir his blood. The volume of the tune rose then dipped as the Kindle Kin leader did something to the air.
‘The humans will need you at their helm, old friend. I believe you would be better served at their side than mine.’
Karsus hesitated for a moment, giving Mickie a suspicious look. Then he abruptly turned on his heel and stomped after the exiting Kindle Kin. Watching its friend and subordinate leave, the Conductor gave yet another sigh.
‘At times hate runs so deep it transcends death. Karsus will not be the only one to react in such a manner when observing your brand.’
It started to walk towards the exit. Mickie got the hint and took a moment to slip his filthy gloves back on before following.
‘So I’m guessing the fight isn’t over, you can’t have taken all the imps out already.’
‘No, we concentrated ourselves here when I felt the Palace Lord fall. I knew it had to be the Mechanist. We had an opportunity to finish the machine and took it.’
‘Then why are you walking with me? You could have given me the short version and gone back to the fight.’
The Conductor gave a verbal huff of amusement.
‘I am not limited as humans are. Even now I touch upon the harmony, feel the rhythm of the battle, and make and necessary changes to the conflict. With the Palace Lord gone we will target the next leaders in line. The humans know of their location. Soon the imps will be fractured and broken.’
Absolute confidence coloured the projected voice. It was something Mickie could understand, the Conductor was a battlefield commander that controlled its entire army in real time. The imps were not nearly a capable enough force to resist that kind of tactical advantage. He and the ancient leader exited the devastated lobby, flanked by the two hybrid Kindle Kin.
‘Alright. Out with it then, tell me about the Soul Lord.’
His blind companion gave a thoughtful hum.
‘Very well. The Soul Lord was the title given to a demon that rose into prominence some centuries ago. One of particularly malicious inclinations.’
Mickie rolled his eyes.
‘Yeah, I gathered that much.’
The Conductor turned its head towards him in a manner that could only be disapproving.
‘All stories require context. Now, the Soul Lord earned its title through uncountable demonstrations of capability. Simply put, it had the most acute understanding of souls than any being has ever achieved within this realm.’
‘So, it could do stuff like you did to the Mechanist?’
There was a pause.
‘Not exactly. We use song as a means to interact with the soul. This demon needed no such tricks. At the height of its power the Soul Lord could tear a soul from a mortal without lifting a finger.’
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Beside him the Conductor gave a slight shudder as it walked.
‘And what it did with those powers. It is difficult to describe the horror, though you have seen the aftermath.’
‘I have?’
‘Indeed, for starters the Mechanist was made by the Soul Lord. An abomination it created by fusing a soul with the castle the Sovereign had built. A sentient caretaker within the very walls of the palace.’
Mickie was a mixture of amazed and appalled at that. At some level it was genius, a living home that took care of itself. Yet he had met the Mechanist, and that machine was something that should have remained on the drawing board. The Conductor was not even done either, its tone darkening as it continued.
‘It was the Soul Lord that imprisoned my people. Its power was unbelievable, a being that could disrupt the harmony itself. We persevered for a time, but eventually I was caught, and my kin soon followed.’
Mickie suddenly found himself slightly wary of the diminutive creature. How could it be so forthright with him if he carried the Soul Lord’s mark. The blind Kindle Kin seemed to sense his unease.
‘Do not fret Mickie. We have heard your song, and through it touched upon your soul. I know you are not the Soul Lord’s, even if you carry a derivative of its mark.’
He supposed if the singers meant him harm, they would have attacked way back at Administration. The fact that Mickie still stood leant some credence to their goodwill.
‘If the Soul Lord was so powerful, then how did it die?’
‘A prudent question, Spinner. And one that relates to something else I wished to convey. You see, I have noticed something peculiar while observing the Soul Lord’s various atrocities. A pattern, you might say.’
The roundabout response brought a furrow to Mickie’s brown.
‘And that is?’
‘That the Soul Lord always requires an element of control, a contingency. You can see it in the palace was staffed. We Kindle Kin were not easy to subdue, certainly it would have been easier to simply use humans within these halls. Yet we were the pick.’
They reached an intersection and Mickie followed the Conductor down a hall to the left.
‘Consider the Mechanist. An artificial monster with one crucial weakness, its soul. So, our malicious captor placed the very beings that could destroy its creation into that same monster’s control.’
As they reached a nondescript door the Conductor waved for a halt without slowing its explanation.
‘My people were the contingency measure. A fire sitting under the Mechanist that could consume it if the machine went rogue.’
Mickie gave the idea some thought.
‘I suppose it makes some sense, though wouldn’t that risk what’s happening right now. You know, an uprising.’
The Conductor gave a shake of its head.
‘Not under normal conditions. I presume you are aware of the Sovereign’s planned invasion?’
At his nod the Kindle Kin continued.
‘The might of the Sovereign would have been enough to slip the chain back about our necks. Yet it would not have been before we struck a blow against the Mechanist. Taught it that masters were necessary for its ongoing survival.’
While interesting, Mickie was unsure how this related to his last question.
‘So, what does that have to do with the Soul Lord’s death?’
Milky eyes glinted in the gentle light of the opulent hall.
‘I believe it has everything to do with its death. Approximately one century ago the Soul Lord betrayed the Sovereign and as a result was struck down. I was already a prisoner at this point but the event caused such a stir that it reached me even in my cage.’
Beside them one of the metal hybrids shifted slightly, the only movement either creature had made since they stopped walking.
‘The Soul Lord was an intrinsic part of the Sovereign’s rise, the driving force even. It would not be a stretch to consider that the crafty demon attempted one of its contingencies on the fallen angel itself. Some plan, that once discovered, resulted in the Sovereign killing its greatest supporter. A betrayal certainly, and one in line with the Soul Lords behaviour.’
Mickie gave that some thought.
‘Does that mean the Sovereign has some kind of pre-installed weak point, put there by the Soul Lord?’
Grey shoulders rose in a gentle shrug.
‘It is difficult to say. Perhaps, though it is just as likely the Sovereign destroyed any plans that were in motion.’
At that the Conductor reached a two fingered hand up and opened the nearby door.
‘Now, if that answers your questions on the Soul Lord, I believe it is time I left you to rest. These are the quarters of an attendant to the Palace Lord, modest but suitable for your needs.’
Mickie stepped up to the door and glanced inside. It was a basic studio apartment, not unlike that of the head Administrator.
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘It is our pleasure Song Spinner. We will leave a guard outside, when you are rested simply ask and he will take you to the stairs. I will speak with you once more in the lobby.’
With that the Conductor turned and stomped away on short legs, one of the hybrids trailing behind. The other metal giant took up a post by his door, turning still as a statue. Giving it little more than a glance, Mickie entered the room and clicked the door shut. He felt exhausted, wounds still healing from his numerous fights, mind churning with what the Conductor had told him. Pushing himself a bit further, Mickie stomped over to a side door and pushed it open, revealing a small bathroom. There was only a shower hidden behind a curtain, and he wasted no time stripping off his ragged garments and stepping under the water.
It took some serious scrubbing and uncomfortable shifting in the imp sized space, but eventually the water ran clear. Mickie exited the shower and grabbed a towel off a nearby rack. Drying himself off, he headed for the door when something caught his eye. It was a mirror, hardly larger than his flattened hand and pinned to the wall above the sink. With trepidation Mickie turned to the piece of reflective glass, gentle leaning forward to reach eye level. The face that looked back was surprisingly normal, better than normal even. The same deep olive skin and hazel eyes peered back at him. A nose that remained the same little button he had hated when younger. He was not gaunt or haggard from the recent events, if anything he appeared healthier than before his death. The perks of a demonic pact, he supposed.
Mickie swept his black hair away from his eyes and straightened. He wandered into the room, thinking about how he should have asked for fresh clothes. Just as he did however, Mickie noted a fresh set folded neatly on the bed. Looks like the Conductor had been a step ahead of him. Clean and with modesty restored, he fell onto the small mattress. Exhaustion was a weight that pressed upon Mickie, yet sleep was not swift in its arrival. Even now the song of the Kindle Kin pounded, loud enough to keep his mind in the waking world.
The Conductor’s description of the Soul Lord kept returning to his thoughts like a catchy song. How was this dead demon related to Miz-Mag? He was certain that the tiny fiend had no clue. Mickie raised his branded hand up and examined the ridged flesh. Three distinct predators, the same as his gun had on the barrel. Did they mean anything? Perhaps they were simply handed down by whatever demon had spawned his invisible companion. Then there was the symbol, a small character resting just below the lion. Apparently, it differed from the one depicted on the Soul Lord’s true mark. Mickie should probably find out what it meant at some stage; it might give him a hint as to the dead demon’s involvement in all of this.
Eventually drowsiness overcame his mind’s stubborn resistance to sleep, his eyes drooped, and slumber overcame him. As Mickie’s waking mind quieted, its barriers fell. Dreams filled with shifting tones of grey overran his rest, echoing with the sounds of crying and gunshots like peels of thunder. Through it all the dead man was dragged. Pulled in to the depths, destined to sink for all eternity.
----------------------------------------
Mickie was awoken by a hysterical figure jabbing at his face, the song of the Kindle Kin once again ringing in his ears. Apparently Miz-Mag had expected to awaken on the eighth circle, and found their continued presence in the castle a rude surprise. It took some time for Mickie to calm his panicky companion. Then longer still to explain how they came to be in this little apartment. There was a brief silence as he finished the tale, then the little demon let lose a high-pitched squawk of laughter.
‘By the blood kid. I mean, I saw the Palace Lord eat it, but the Mechanist too?’
His companion paused to give another laugh.
‘I knew I made the right choice cutting a deal with you.’
The laughter was infectious, and Mickie gave a gentle chuckle as he rose from bed.
‘I was the only choice. You’d have made a deal with a chicken if it could see you.’
Miz-Mag threw a rude gesture in his direction, causing Mickie to chuckle once more. He fetched his gloves from where they had been hanging in the bathroom. They were still wet from the wash he had given them, though he could deal with a bit of discomfort if it meant avoiding a bullet to the brain. The duo exited the room soon after, Miz-Mag returned to its perch on his shoulder. Outside the hybrid Kindle Kin waited stoically, appearing to not have budged an inch since he entered.
‘Hey, could you show me to the stairwell?’
The metal giant gave an assenting grumble and set off, heavy footsteps reverberating through the floor.
‘Why get the bot’s help kid? I could guide us no problem.’
Mickie gave the kindle kin a quick look before answering in a whisper, barely audible over the ongoing song.
‘Because they offered. It’s best to never let others no your limits, keep a card up the sleeve and all that.’
‘But we already found our way to the lobby once, why would they think we couldn’t do it again?’
He gave a one shouldered shrug.
‘Not sure, the Conductor is kinda weird. Might be that the big guy is more for protection, that old man did not seem pleased I left the lobby alive.’
The demon made a thoughtful sound but spoke no further, leaving the song to thrum on endlessly as the duo made their way to the staircase. Arriving at the large chamber Mickie found it to be little better than when he had left. Limp tentacles of dark plastic had been shifted aside to create a path leading to the spiral stairs. To one side lay several fallen hybrids, those who had died in the fight against the Mechanist. Miz-Mag let lose a whistle at the messy display.
‘They really did it huh, killed the Mechanist. Not as impressive as our show down in its lair though.’
Mickie did not respond, preferring to keep silent as a grey figure approached. The Conductor step up alongside him and the ever-present song was muffled.
‘Hello Spinner. I hope you are well rested?’
At his affirmation the blind leader continued.
‘Good. It was my understanding you wished to ascend the stairs. I thought that the location of your departure was a good spot for our final chat.’
He almost made to ask how the Kindle Kin had known of his intention to climb but paused. It was probably obvious from his actions alone at this point.
‘Yeah, I’m heading up. Wanted to ask you about the next circle, just so I don’t head in blind.’
The Conductor waved him forward and the pair started a slow walk to the stairs.
‘A wise decision. The black city is not something you should tackle in ignorance. It is home to some of the most powerful demons outside of the Sovereign’s own army.’
That was not ideal.
‘So, the next circle is just one giant city?’
‘For the most part. The metropolis is centred within an expanse of darkness, the only location truly of note. The stairs will take you straight to it.’
‘Figured they would. I don’t suppose I’ll arrive in some quiet corner that no demon ever visits.’
Milky white eyes turned to him in a look that could only be sympathetic.
‘Unfortunately, not. It has been some time since I was dragged down into this palace. Though the humans here speak of a grand tower, right in the centre of the city. It is there that the stairs emerge.’
‘Of course it is.’
He let lose a frustrated sigh. On his shoulder Miz-Mag decided to give its two cents.
‘Well, it’s not like it was going to be easy kid. We’ll just have to spill a bit of blood, same as always.’
Mickie’s gaze traced along the scarred and battered tiles, following a streak of red that demarcated Aria’s journey across the floor. Her body was gone now, given greater priority than even the Kindle Kin by the entrance. Mickie hoped she was somewhere safe, waiting to be given a proper send off.
‘Alright, so it’s going to be a rocky arrival. Anything else I should know about the city?’
The Conductor gave a knowing smile.
‘I believe you might be interested to know that there are four exits leading to the seventh circle.’
That caught his interest, Mickie gave the singer a sharp look and the air vibrated in a chuckle.
‘It is not hard to deduce your intentions, Spinner. While I believe it impossible, it would not be the first time I have been surprised by you.’
The branded man attempted to school his features as the Kindle Kin continued.
‘Spaced near the borders of the city, are four towers. They reach to the ceiling and provide access to the seventh circle. The information I have gathered indicates each is guarded in some manner, though accounts of what by vary between sources.’
They reached the stairs and came to stop at the base. At some stage the monstrous body of the Palace Lord had been hauled to one side. It lay twisted and still, a small mountain of chitin and dead flesh. Disposing of that thing would be a serious hassle, Mickie was glad it wasn’t his problem.
‘That’s good to know, anything else you can give me?’
The Kindle Kin gave a slow nod.
‘Yes. The demonic houses within the city are numerous and varied, but I caution you to be wary of one in particular. That of Belphegor, an old demon, and one of the most cunning to ever have spawned within the nine circles.’
Mickie frowned.
‘That name sounds familiar. I think I’ve heard it before.’
‘I do not doubt it, Belphegor was one of the seven in older times. The Lord of Sloth.’
That meant this Belphegor was like Mammon. The thought of encountering a demon of that calibre without it being chained and frozen caused Mickie to shudder.
‘I’ll try my best to avoid it then.’
There was a lull as Mickie attempted to think of another question, but came up short. There certainly were any number of things he could ask, about the Kindle Kin or the myriad idiosyncrasies of the palace. Yet at that moment they felt inconsequential. Mickie was about to leave this place behind, and if he ever saw it again something would have gone terribly wrong. His eyes wandered to the stairs, so close and blessedly free of any obstructions. He had gotten what he could on the Soul Lord and the eighth circle, anything else could wait.
‘I think it’s time I got moving. Thanks for your help, in killing the Mechanist and giving me some information.’
The Conductor gave him a soft smile.
‘It is the kin who thank you Song Spinner. You have enabled us to secure freedom once more, and the harmony shall always remember that.’
Mickie gave a solemn nod and stepped onto the staircase, only to pause as the Conductor spoke again.
‘Before you leave, I would give you some final words of advice.’
He turned back to the ancient singer.
‘Shoot.’
The creature paused for a moment before speaking.
‘Firstly, you should know that we will be sealing the stairwell behind you. The kin have spent decades administering to these walls and know many of its secrets. A lockdown failsafe is one discovery we will now put into use.’
Mickie turned to properly face the blind creature and shrugged.
‘Sure, I’m cool with that. Wasn’t planning on coming back down.’
The Kindle Kin gave a nod.
‘Secondly, a warning. One about the brand that marks your hand.’
He tensed up at that, though the Conductor spoke on without noting his caution.
‘It is essential to be wary of any link to the Soul Lord. Remember what I told you about the demon, plans and contingencies. It is likely there is more to your mark than you realise. Watch for the signs that all is not as it seems.’
Mickie’s shoulders relaxed and he let lose a short bark of laughter.
‘Nothing is as it seems down here. Bit hard to nail down any one event in particular.’
His humour died with a sigh.
‘But you’re right. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.’
The palace’s exit called to him, and Mickie could resist its pull no longer.
‘If that’s everything, I’ll be off. All the best in your hostile takeover.’
The Conductor gave a soft chuckle.
‘Farewell Mickie, I hope you achieve what you set out to.’
And with that the branded man and his companion demon began their ascent to the next circle. They were partway up when Miz-Mag, who had been fidgeting for some time, let loose a mad cackle.
‘The harmony shall always remember.’
It mimicked the words of the Conductor in a pretentious tone.
‘What a wierdo. You think the harmony remembers that you blew the head off one of those metal giants?’
Mickie glared at the fiend as it gave another peel of laughter. He wanted to give a snippy reply yet was leery of speaking with the old Kindle Kin so close. Who knew how good the creatures hearing was. Instead, the duo stomped onwards, Mickie serenaded by constant chatter from his invisible sidekick. Eventually they neared the ceiling, passing by the hanging remaining of the Mechanist’s tentacles. Miz-Mag gave a whistle of appreciation.
‘Would have been trouble getting past all this. I guess you’re lucky the singers showed up to save your ass. And mine too for that matter.’
Mickie grunted as he shoved a dead limb blocking the stairs, pushing it out into the open.
‘I’ll bet. Might still have made it, though it would have been rough.’
They ascended a final few turns of the spiral and reached the point where the stairs met the ceiling. There was a landing here, a platform separating the path they had followed from another, similar spiral that continued up a cylindrical tunnel. Looking at the climb he wondered why Hell had electronic lighting but no elevators. One decent lift ride could have saved him a lot of trouble.
The Kindle Kin’s song had grown distant as they climbed, so when a grinding sound abruptly came from below it was easy for him to pick up. Mickie turned back the stairs he had just climbed, only to find them falling away. The top step parted from the landing to slowly disappear into the palace lobby. He looked over the edge and saw a huge set of dark steel blast doors sliding shut right beneath the platform. As they swallowed the view of the domed room, Mickie caught one last glimpse of milky eyes, almost appearing to look right at him from. Then the palace was gone, locked away behind a mass of steel that would take an age to bore through.
‘Bit rude. Hardly waited until we were out the door before slamming it shut.’
For its part, Miz-Mag was unbothered to see its home disappear for good. The fiend had spent an age locked away in the palace, and all it wanted was to reach what lay beyond. Mickie turned to the next set of stairs.
‘I suppose we had better get moving.’
There was had another circle to escape and a promise to keep. Mickie would show the demons that humanity was more than they could ever hope to contain.
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Back within the palace, standing by the stairs in the remnants of the lobby, was a grey figure. One so old that it struggled to delineate time as humans did. The Conductor tilted its head up, feeling the enhanced barrier slide home to muffle the sounds beyond. While not impenetrable to the ancient Kindle Kin’s senses, it made picking up what Mickie said difficult. Yet it still noted the occasional words, the mortal had certainly referred to itself as a collective, a ‘we’. It was one of many strange snippets the old singer had caught while listening in on their newest Spinner. There had also been the confrontation with the Palace Lord, in which both the insect and the human held a conversation with a third individual. One that appeared by all accounts to be undetectable.
The blind Kindle Kin hummed thoughtfully. What was the Soul Lord planning when it forged this interaction? Why was this strange human only now appearing, so long after the puppet master had fallen. Perhaps Mickie would fall in the city above, his secret sinking into the abyss with his soul. Or maybe, he would succeed. The thought excited the Conductor. For all that it loathed the Soul Lord, that demon had achieved something near impossible. It had shown the old singer something new. Perhaps the Soul Lords’s unknowing agent would do the same if he lived long enough.
A thrum ran through the harmony, currently resonated to the rhythm of freedom. The Conductor touched upon the warbling dissonance, reading from it the entire status of an ongoing conflict. With an ululation pitched too low for any human to make out, the Kindle Kin leader gave its orders. Individual packets to key fighters, widespread movements to blockades, the application of a flanking manoeuvre on some overzealous imps. All of it was sent forth in mere moments, hardly a diversion for the blind creature. Familiar footsteps sounded nearby as a human approached.
‘Con, they’re on the back foot now, it’s only a matter of time.’
It was Karsus, the oldest human the Conductor had ever met, and one it would consider a friend of sorts.
‘Then we are progressing as expected. I have sealed the passage to the eighth circle, once we finish taking the palace, we can begin the excavation.’
The old man seemed sceptical.
‘Are you certain we should be leaving? Can we not just secure the ninth against intrusion?’
It took an effort of will for the singer to restrain a verbal sigh.
‘We have discussed this Karsus, the ninth is far to inhospitable. If we remain the Sovereign will eventually return, and we will be driven onto the ice.’
With a slight firming of its tone, the Conductor continued.
‘No. If we wish to keep a hold of our freedom, there is but one choice. We must clear the old paths and follow them to freedom.’
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The tower rose from the centre of the tiered city, a monolith of sleek plating that reflected flashing neon lights. It served a myriad of functions, and as such was staffed by a small army of slaves and servants. One such employee was a demon named Bizaltine, a small imp stationed within a large hall. Just one of a several guards within the room, this demon was tasked with watching a grand set of double doors. It was said that these marked the end of the passage between the eighth and ninth circles. Personally however, Bizaltine was not certain. In the weeks it had been stationed here, not a single soul other than the guards had entered the hall. If this was truly the way down to the palace, then there would surely be important demons going back and forth all the time.
Bizaltine fidgeted with its gun’s strap, attempting to get the unwieldy rifle in a more comfortable position. The accursed thing was unreasonably heavy, making it difficult to carry and even more challenging to use. Growing bored, as the little imp often did during extended shifts within the hall, Bizaltine turned to see if it could catch the attention of its neighbour. Only to notice something was wrong with the surroundings. Everything was gloomy, as if coated in shadow.
‘It certainly took you long enough. I thought guards were supposed to be paying attention to their surroundings.’
It was a cold voice, spoken softly from right beside the imp. Bizaltine gave a yelp of surprise and spun about, fumbling for its rifle.
‘Raise that oversized stick at me imp, and I’ll take one of your eyes.’
The authority within the words was absolute, Bizaltine was certain that the threat was genuine. Gently, it lowered the rifle while scanning the surrounds. A patch of wall seemed to shift, shadows unfolding to reveal a figure. Slender, tall, and cloaked in darkness. This was a demon, and one of significant power. Instantly Bizaltine’s survival instincts kicked in and it fell to one knee.
‘Apologies, Oh Great One. I was startled and meant no intention of harm to one of your stature.’
The living shadow gave a sigh of exasperation.
‘Not bad, imp. Bit too waffly for my tastes though. You can stand.’
With a wince the shaking fiend rose to its feet, head bowed in supplication.
‘How my I assist you, Great One?’
‘I’m looking to know if anyone has come by here? Or if you have noticed any changes beyond the door?’
Bizaltine’s response was prompt and emphatic.
‘I would never presume to look beyond the threshold, Great One. As for your other question, no one has passed at all in the past few weeks.’
The shadows surrounding them seemed to grow pointed as the demon grew irritated.
‘I meant observed from your post fool, of course you would not enter.’
It was spoken with such certainty and contempt that a brief spark of irritation kindled in Bizaltine. For a moment the imp was tempted to say it had checked past the doors. That in fact, the Soul Lord was back there juggling sixteen mortal heads. It was an urge the little fiend swiftly suppressed.
‘Apologies, Great One. As far as I am aware there has been no activity beyond the doors.’
Bizaltine remained rigid, head bowed and awaiting a response. Silence held sway for what felt like an age, yet the imp did not dare look up and risk the demon’s wrath. Eventually however, a new voice broke the guard from its position.
‘Oi! What in the nine are you up to?’
Glancing to the source of the whispered question, Bizaltine found the world no longer covered in a veil of darkness. Instead, a nearby guard was giving the imp a confused look.
‘Well?’
It swallowed dryly and glanced up to where the shadowy figure had been standing.
‘I uh, got distracted. Sorry.’
‘Distracted? You got sulphur for brains? Get back into position!’
Bizaltine was only too happy to comply. Yet as the guarded stood vigil by the door it could not help but scan every shadowy nook and cranny, hoping to not see something looking back.