Grimy stones dug into Mickie’s uncovered feet as he hobbled through the dirty streets. In the distance there was a calamitous crash as the chain upon which he had been riding hit a distant cliff. As the snake of dark metal continued to wreak destruction through the city, a strong hand caught his uninjured arm and pulled him down a narrow alley.
He and the gorgon had been fleeing the scene of their departure for some time, unsure if they had been spotted jumping from the chain. Mickie thought their chances were good as the district was currently in a state of confused panic. Some had seen the chain carve its way through their homes, but many only felt the roar of destruction and quaking of the earth. It was the perfect tumult for Mickie and his new ally to lose themselves in.
The duo finally came to a stop under the shadowed walkway of two interconnected warehouses. They spent long moments gasping for air and listening to the distant shouts of ongoing carnage. Images flickered across the mortal’s vision, still scenes of panicked eyes looking up, bodies broken like kindling, and blood on steel. They fell from his mind, Mickie sweeping aside the disgust and niggling guilt to leave himself empty and focused. Meeting the eyes of the gorgon, he saw his own resolve reflected in her slitted eyes.
Mickie had honestly expected very little if any guilt from the serpentine warrior when it came to the means of their escape. He could only imagine what months in the arena would do to even the most sensitive empath. Yet, his new companion looked slightly shaken at what they had done, even if he could tell by the firm set of her jaw that she did not regret it. They had done what was required to survive.
‘What’s next?’
The gorgon’s question was hushed, pitched low even though no one would hear them through the ongoing chaos.
‘Next is the hard part.’
He dug into the tattered pocket of his jeans and pulled free a dented metal orb. One end still glowed occasionally with a gentle green light. Mickie tossed the object to his new ally.
‘We wait.’
Scaled fingers plucked the orb from the air, and she examined the battered surface curiously.
‘And this is?’
‘A way for my allies to find us, hopefully before any city enforcers do.’
The gorgon’s brow furrowed.
‘How long will they be?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know. Not sure if you could tell, but that exit wasn’t really part of the plan.’
That earned a snort.
‘I should hope not. We were lucky to not be minced along with the other poor sops.’
It was a dry response, an attempt to shove aside the guilt she felt with an air of disregard.
‘So, now we’ve successfully escaped prison together, I think introductions are in order.’
He reached out a hand.
‘I’m Mickie.’
The gorgon hesitated only briefly before shaking his hand.
‘Kalistra.’
She said, mouth struggling to form the name, as if reluctant to speak it.
‘Fantastic.’
Mickie released the gorgon’s hand to prod his injured leg. The hole was still there, but it had already stopped bleeding. He observed his ally’s sharp claws.
‘Any chance you could pull out a bullet for me?’
----------------------------------------
A massive crash marked an end to the ongoing clamour as the chain finally stopped its destructive swing against the cliffs leading to the sixth tier. Over the next couple of hours, the chaos in the streets settled as word spread, though neither of the two fugitives had spotted authorities yet. It brought the mortal’s thoughts back to the burning hive district he had seen before leaving the spire. Could it be that the enforcers were otherwise occupied?
A soft tapping on stone caused both escapees to whirl around. The sound was deliberate enough to get their attention, but low enough not to spread beyond the alley. It did not take long for Mickie to catch sight of a small figure, cloaked, and huddled in the shadows. He was glad he had thought to give the glasses to Kalistra while they waited. If this figure had surprised them before she wore the protective lenses, then their guide might already be stone.
‘There was only supposed to be one.’
The voice was oddly high, though not so sinister as Miz-Mag’s squeaky tone.
‘There was a change of plans.’
‘No shit.’
Mickie stepped from the shadows to reveal his face, but the small figure did not follow suit.
‘I know I got free earlier than you all expected. Miz-Mag and I had to get a bit creative with the escape.’
He tried for disarming, but the new arrival was reluctant to bite.
‘You are Mickie then?’
‘I am.’
‘And who have you brought with you?’
Kalistra took a steady step into the light, the bronze scales of her serpent hair glinting. The reaction from the new arrival was immediate, the cloaked figure cursing and taking a few steps back.
‘The gorgon!’
It spoke the word like a curse, fear and surprise evident.
‘Indeed.’
Kalistra seemed mildly amused by the effect her presence had.
‘It seems my reputation proceeds me.’
By all appearances their prospective guide was on the verge of fleeing. Mickie switched tactics, shifting from reassuring to professional.
‘Look, buddy, were you not sent for the express purpose of picking me up?’
He received a hesitant confirmation.
‘Then I don’t see what the big issue is. I’m here, and I’ve saved you a rescue attempt. What else could you ask for?’
‘You were supposed to be alone.’
He let a touch of irritation into his tone.
‘Well, I’m not. So, either you go back empty handed, or you go back with both of us.’
Mickie did not know what Miz-Mag’s new friend’s game was, but he was certain that his presence was part of it. A war played out in the body language of the little figure; it was clear their guide did not want to help them. Eventually though, duty won out, and they were directed to follow by a voice dripping with distaste. Mickie raised an eyebrow to Kalistra, and his new ally gave a nod in return.
Kalistra was handed a cloak to wear, while Mickie was informed emphatically that he would be getting nothing. That was fine, he could manage without with attention so focused upon the destruction wrought by the chain. The trio wound their way through the sooty alleys, weaving between murmuring groups of residents discussing the recent disaster.
Their guide led them to a dead end between two buildings. The figure moved to a heavy looking garbage bin, overflowing with filth. It beckoned them over, shifting aside bags of waste before setting a shoulder against the massive metal box. Mickie figured it wanted their help to move the thing, but was swiftly proven wrong. The bin glided aside on silent wheels, revealing a rusted manhole covering the street beneath. It was that with which the little figure needed assistance.
Kalistra hooked two fingers into a hole in the metal and pulled the covering aside with little effort. Beyond was a stretch of darkness, one that reminded Mickie of another secret entrance he had seen when he first arrived in the city. The identity of Miz-Mag’s new allies clicked into place. These were the urchins that the enforcers had mentioned when they followed him into the alley. It would have been nice if his partner could have at least informed him of that much.
The mortal kept the revelation under wraps as they descended into the dark. Their guide was skittish enough, he did not want to make it apparent how little he actually knew of their supposed rescue plan. As he and the gorgon made it into a tight stone passage, the bin was rolled the back into place overhead. The manhole soon followed, the light vanishing as it was dragged into place. There was the tapping of feet on a ladder, the scuffle of footsteps in the dark, then a glowing orb bloomed to life in their guide’s hand.
‘Follow and keep close.’
A long journey through cramped passages ensued. Mickie thought Kalistra might be get put off by the tight spaces, but when he glanced back the gorgon seemed at ease, almost happy at their surrounds. Eventually another high pitch voice called out into the dark and the cloaked figure gave a coded answer. Mickie could feel an excited ripple ululate through the tunnel ahead as their guide’s response echoed outwards.
Soon they were walking into a massive underground bunker. Rooms upon rooms of space for storage, training, sleeping, eating and even entertainment. And, to his surprise, the occupants were human children. They spoke like miniaturized adults, cursing one another and discussing work. It also seemed like their guard had been an exception rather than the rule. Most other urchins were happy to see him, and downright delighted at the presence of a celebrity like Kalistra.
They spoke about Miz-Mag as if they knew the little demon, wondering at how it had orchestrated an escape such as theirs. If Mickie’s partner had been present its head might have exploded from the praise. The mortal’s broken arm was splinted and wrapped in a sling, though he was unsure if that was even required. His regeneration had proven highly adept at managing the injuries he had received while in the arena. Breaks, burns of bloody wounds, there was little Mickie’s could not overcome given a little time.
Eventually they were led to an unoccupied room in which they could rest, a barrack style dorm not currently in use. The inside consisted of four spartan bunks and an attached washroom. An energetic kid with long curly raven hair spoke to them from the door.
‘Feel free to wash up and rest. The boss is out handling the hive op, should hopefully head this way soonish, but who knows.’
The mention of the hive peaked Mickie’s interest, but the urchin had vanished before he got the chance to ask a question. They soon discovered that the underground dwellers had managed to scrounge up clothing for Kalistra. Khaki pants and a basic black shirt that the gorgon changed into almost immediately. After Mickie took his turn getting cleaned up he resummoned a fresh outfit and exited the bathroom to find his new ally holding a bundle of leather and cloth.
It was the wreath of thorns; he had forgotten about it in the chaos of their escape. The deadly crown had been tucked away in his jacket when he gave it to Kalistra. When Mickie recalled the clothing, it must have left the wrapped wreath behind.
‘Careful with that, don’t let what’s inside touch bare skin.’
‘What is it?’
The gorgon set the bundle down on a spare bunk.
‘A wreath of thorns. Don’t know what kind, but they aren’t pleasant. Take a look if you want.’
Mickie motioned for her to unwrap the item, curious if she would know of this cure to her own abilities. After a minute or so of careful cloth removal the wreath sat on a bed of fabric and leather.
‘Any ideas?’
He asked hopefully, but Kalistra gave a slow shake of her head.
‘None. Why can’t I touch it? Looks harmless enough.’
‘That’s what cured me. Turned me back to flesh.’
The gorgon’s eyes widened, and she looked from him to the wreath.
‘Really? This thing? How?’
There was an undercurrent of excitement to the questions.
‘Painfully.’
He spent a few moments thinking of a good way to describe the experience.
‘If being turned to stone was like being trapped in a cocoon, then wearing that thing is being freed by getting dropped into magma. Sure, the cocoon burns up, but so do you.’
‘Curious. So it scrubs the soul free?’
Kalistra’s fingers danced above the tangle of black thorns, eager to touch them.
‘Scrub isn’t the word I would use. Shred’s probably more suitable.’
The gorgon pressed a finger into the wreath. Mickie winced as she did, expecting an immediate outcrying of agony. Yet, there was nothing. Long moments past in silent expectation until Kalistra ripped her finger free with a gasp.
‘Well, that was unpleasant.’
The branded man was almost irritated at how well she took the experience.
‘Just unpleasant?’
‘Well, I didn’t get so far as to allow a proper attack on the soul. Though, I can see now how this object would break the bindings of stone.’
Kalistra began to wrap the wreath back in its packaging, taking care not to let the deadly thorns make contact with her skin. She tossed the bundled object to Mickie, and he tucked it back away into his jacket.
‘These urchins.’
The gorgon said cautiously after a short silence.
‘They seemed to speak as if there was another with us. You did too, for that matter.’
Mickie glanced over to find the serpentine warrior focussed upon his brand. What she had said was more an observation than a question, spoken with the understanding that he would likely not answer. It was how Belphegor had once questioned him, dancing about the subject of his deal rather than questioning him directly. Mickie realised he now had a chance to confirm something he had long suspected.
‘Kalistra, if I was to tell you the specifics of my deal, what would you say?’
His new companion’s eyes widened in alarm.
‘That you’re mad. I didn’t mean to pry. If what the urchins said is related then do not answer.’
‘And if I did anyway, what would happen to me?’
That garnered him a confused look.
‘You would die?’
There it was, the reason everyone in this city had been so aloof about his mark. They had thought that the requirement of silence was hard baked into the deal, had not even considered the prospect that he might be able to speak freely.
‘Is this common knowledge, that we die if we talk about the bargains we made?’
Kalistra was growing ever more confused.
‘Well no, until I made my deal I always thought that it was a subject of shame, and was taught that it was rude to pry. I suppose those who force the deals might consider it common knowledge. Why are you asking me this?’
So that probably meant Aria had not known what might happen when he talked to her about it back in the palace. The Mechanist though, well it probably didn’t care if he died, as long as it got what it wanted.
‘I am asking because I have no enforced silence as part of the bargain I made. In fact, the specifics were rather vague at the time.’
The gorgon stared at him as if he had grown a second head.
‘So you can…?’
‘Tell you that Miz-Mag is the demon I made the deal with, and that it follows be around like a bad smell? Yes, I can.’
Kalistra stared in horror for a moment, but when a few moments past and Mickie failed to drop dead, she let lose a nervous chuckle.
‘In all the nine circles, I would never have thought.’
She paused and gave him a wary look.
‘And you aren’t lying?’
It was Mickie’s turn to chuckle.
‘Would be a bit of an elaborate ruse if I did. Would have had to convince all those urchins to go along with it while I was locked up.’
She waved him off.
‘I know, I know. It’s just, I don’t think you realise how unusual this is. When a bargain is struck there are always clear terms. You can never harm your master, never disobey a direct order, and never speak of the contents of your deal.’
‘Why would they prohibit talking about it?’
Kalistra’s expression turned bitter.
‘So no one can help fufill your end of the bargain. It’s what makes the deals such a trap. The idea is to gain the eternal service by binding the other party then making it impossible for them to fulfil their end of the bargain.’
‘I’m guessing that’s what happened to you?’
No answer, only a meaningful look. That would be a yes then.
‘Well, I’m under no such restrictions. In fact, you’ll probably get to meet my demon once he wakes back up. Kind of anyway.’
‘Kind of?’
‘Yeah, Miz-Mag is invisible for most people, it’s impossible for them to hear him talk and they only feel him if he puts some effort in. Oh, and he’s about this big.’
Mickie held his hands slightly less than a foot apart, indicating the approximate size of his little red partner. The gorgon leant forward in interest.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
‘So, your mark really isn’t from the Soul Lord? I mean, I thought it looked like a derivative, but I wasn’t certain.’
The mortal rubbed his branded hand, thoughts straying to the strange half dreams he had while locked within his soul.
‘No, far as I can tell Mag isn’t the Soul Lord.’
‘You mentioned you were able to see this Miz-Mag. Was this before or after you made the bargain with it?’
‘Before, showed up not long after I got to hell actually.’
‘Any others that can see it?’
‘The boss of the palace, and apparently someone in the urchins, but I haven’t met them yet. How is this important?’
Kalistra looked at him as if her were an idiot.
‘Because why would you, by all accounts a normal mortal, be able to see a demon that no one else can? The Palace Lord I can understand, it’s equipped for the task. But you though, what makes you different from any other mortal or demon?’
It was a thought that had occurred to Mickie before, but one that had long since slipped from his list of priorities.
‘I’m not sure, and as far as I can tell Miz-Mag doesn’t know either.’
‘That is a problem. From what you have said there is something amiss with the deal you made, like the contract you signed was written in advance, just waiting for you to arrive.’
Mickie felt a mild unease. Though this was something he had been considering for some time, it was odd to have it confirmed out loud by another. His gaze drifted to the mark on Kalistra’s forehead, red ink, a ring of bones surrounding a crescent. He wondered what it had taken for her to bind herself so completely with a deal, and who she had pledged to. Instead, he changed the subject.
‘You seem to know your stuff when it comes to these deals. Were you some kind of hell lawyer or something?’
The gorgon gave a soft chuckle.
‘No, nothing so sinister. I was training to be a Transcriber for my people. Someone who manifests power into physical form.’
‘Manifesting power?’
Mickie thought of red characters etched into dark steel.
‘You mean those runes, like the ones on our chains?’
Kalistra nodded.
‘Yes. The metal produced in the ninth circle is a good conduit of power, though there are other materials that work.’
Images of frozen corpses flickered through his mind.
‘Well, I’d expect that stuff to be a bit scarce in future.’
The gorgon gave him an inquisitive look.
‘Why?’
Mickie told her of his time out on the white wastes, speaking of the palace to someone other than Miz-Mag for the first time since escaping it. Once he finished describing the mines, he shifted to the reason he was out there in the first place. Eventually, he had covered the entirety of his time in the ninth circle. Kalistra was a mixture of horrified and impressed as he described the Mechanist’s possession of the Palace Lord. When he came to the Conductor’s killing blow, the gorgon was outright awed.
‘I’ve heard of these creatures before, but I never knew what they were capable of. That sounds a lot like a direct strike on the soul.’
‘What? Like the wreath?’
‘Similar, but far more potent. Rather than jab or scratch I think your friend ripped the soul straight from the robot’s body.’
That was basically the palace itself if Mickie recalled correctly. It was an impressive feat that made him ever more wary of the mysterious Conductor. A sudden knock at the door drew the pair from their discussion. A boy with a shock of red hair poked his head into the room.
‘Hey, sorry to interrupt but the boss is back. It has some time if you want to come say hi.’
The pair were soon on their feet and moving through the bustling warren. Urchins still hurried about, though now with far less casual chatter. Clearly the arrival of their boss had the children on their best behaviour. Watching the industrious youths, Mickie was taken aback by how uniformly mature they all acted. It almost seemed impossible that a force like this could have been assembled, organised, and trained without an adult. He had not known many children, but those he had tended towards frenetic disorder. Deciding that their red-headed guide was friendly enough, he posed a question.
‘So are you guys recruited the moment you get to hell or something?’
‘What’s that?’
The boy appeared distracted, but answered readily enough.
‘Oh, nope. Normally we drift about for a few years, serving some demon or other. The urchins only scoop up those that look like they can handle the work.’
A few years? But they were all so young.
‘Why are you all, you know, still children?’
The guide gave him an odd look.
‘It’s better for sneaking about, smaller frames and all that.’
There was a sudden pause as a thought struck the boy.
‘Hold on, you meant to ask why some of us aren’t a bit older?’
Mickie gave a confused nod of his own.
‘Wow, you really are new. Sorry to break it to you but I’m probably older than you are buddy. Been down here far longer than I ever was alive.’
Mickie was taken aback, he missed a step and stumbled along before regaining his balance.
‘I’m surprised you don’t know that your kind do not age in this realm.’
Kalistra commented, but Mickie hardly heard her. His brain was still catching up with the information. The urchins were not actually children, well, not mentally anyway. Mickie knew that some humans had been in hell for unreasonable lengths of time, but the deeper implications of that had never occurred to him.
He recalled that the Conductor’s human friend had been around when the palace was being built. That must have been centuries ago. It should have dawned on Mickie then, but the old man had looked the part with skin weathered as old stone. These children though, it was disconcerting that there could be someone over a century old looking like they were only just big enough to reach the high shelf.
‘Wouldn’t it get crowded then?’
Mickie asked abruptly. Kalistra raised an eyebrow in his direction, while their ginger guide made an enquiring noise.
‘Hell, I mean. If no one gets old here, then no one dies naturally. Surely it would get crowded.’
‘Oh right, that. I mean, maybe? I’ve never really noticed it change; this place tends to be pretty fatal. No one can escape death forever.’
The kid seemed dismissive, not all that interested in the logistics of the realm. Kalistra, in contrast, gave the eternally youthful boy a frown and elaborated further.
‘Unnatural death does play a significant part. However, there is also the call of the abyss.’
That certainly sounded pleasant.
‘And what is that?’
‘It is a difficult thing to describe, but those who hear the call know it for what it is. Those who have lived too long, and grow weary with life tend to be the ones that hear it the most.’
‘So, you hear the call and die? Like killer whale song or something?’
‘Yup, drop dead like a puppet with its strings cut.’
Their guide interjected, point them down a side passage as the gorgon gave him a dirty look.
‘In a way, yes, though I would not truly call it death. To answer the call is to dive willingly into the river of souls. It is to move away from existence in this realm.’
The thought of the light streaked black beneath the palace caused Mickie to shudder.
‘Yeah. Not sure I’ll be answering any call if it comes my way.’
‘Ain’t that the truth. We’re here, by the way.’
Their guide brought the pair to a stop beside a heavy door, bringing the conversation to a close. Stepping forward, the boy hammered a fist into the dense metal.
‘This is Milo. Theta-six-four-seven-Gamma. Got the big kids with me.’
Without a response from inside, the doors swung open, and they were ushered through. While Mickie had begun to suspect the leader of this group was not human from the way the urchins referred to it, he was unprepared for the creature that greeted them.
If Mickie was forced to describe the demon, he would have gone with the words frog and goblin. When the golden skinned terror turned to face them, he realised snake also belonged in the mix. It was, simply put, one of the most sinister looking fiends he had and encountered so far. And that was in a list including a monstrous humanoid centipede. At least he now knew who Miz-Mag had been considering its new friend.
‘Ah, you must be Mickie.’
It turned uncanny gemstone eyes to Kalistra.
‘And you the dreaded champion of the arena. It is truly a pleasure, both of you. My name is Sestus, and as you might have already surmised, I am the leader of this little band.’
There was a silent few moments in which the pair just took in the strange demon, who seemed to mind their attention very little. The golden goblin glanced about, looking for the final member of their little party.
‘I see Miz-Mag is not with you. Nothing untoward I hope?’
‘No, it’s just resting at the moment.’
‘Ah, it would have been good to catch-up with the little scamp, though, for now I suppose the pair of you will serve.’
Sestus’ voice was soft and curated, contrasting with its monstrous appearance.
‘Serve for what?’
‘I thought that would be obvious. Serve to explain why you are here so early, and why a giant chain shredded part of the city.’
Mickie winced, but did not dive into an explanation immediately.
‘Look, Mag might have trusted you, but I don’t know you.’
Beside him Kalistra stirred.
‘You entrusted our escape to someone you didn’t know? This could very well have been a trap.’
The mortal gave her an irritated look, but Sestus interrupted them with a chuckle before he got the chance to retort.
‘Come now. There is no need for an argument. I’m sure Mickie’s options were limited upon his awakening, and dear Stone Eyes, I’m certain you prefer this to your last accommodations. We, after all, have not attempted to put you in chains.’
Kalistra looked as if she wanted to argue further, but settled for casting Mickie a disgruntled look. For his part the branded man waited in wary silence for Sestus to continue.
‘Now, my boy, while I’m sure you have been through quite the ordeal, I think you can agree that Miz-Mag, at the very least, trusted our intentions.’
Mickie gave a slow nod, not responding, but not refuting the leader of the urchins.
‘Good. Now, we have helped you get this far, so do you not think it proper to offer us an explanation at the very least?’
He gave the gemstone eyes a long look. While the motivations of this creature remained a mystery, it was true that it had been helpful so far.
‘Alright. I’ll explain.’
Fishing in his jacket pocket, Mickie removed a cloth and leather bundle, placing it on a nearby table. He peeled apart the coverings to reveal the circlet of dark thorns. Sestus peered at the wreath for a long moment, before abruptly bursting into laughter.
‘A soul flayer crown! I mean, that would do it, but must not have been pleasant.’
‘It wasn’t.’
Mickie replied dryly. The response had caught Kalistra’s interest, and the gorgon leaning into the conversation.
‘So, you know what this stuff is then?’
‘That I do. This here is a branch from a soul flayer bramble, a rare and particularly sinister plant residing in the sixth circle. The bramble traps anything that falls into it through a debilitating attack on the soul. While the victim is stunned it becomes ensnared in the thorns, unable to escape. Its prey will then slowly bleed to death while its soul is stripped raw.’
The gorgon and man stood in silence for a long moment before Kalistra turned her slitted eyes to Mickie.
‘Are you sure that whoever did this didn’t just want you dead?’
‘I doubt they did.’
Sestus interjected, its wide mouth twisted in an eerie smile.
‘The bramble is rare enough that whoever acquired some must have known what they were getting, and the effect it would have. The only questions that remains, is who?’
Ex sanguine et vitibus natus. The latin phrase attached to the wreath came back to Mickie like an old debt. No, whoever had place the soul flayer on his head did not want him dead, because they knew who he had been when alive. Mickie did not relay his thoughts to the two demons, instead letting the conversation roll onwards as he rebound the wreath. Kalistra seemed happy enough to take charge of their escape, describing the ascent through the elevator shaft and eventual destruction of the chain.
‘Fast thinking and lucky timing.’
Sestus commented on their flight through the panicked city district.
‘Lucky timing?’
Kalistra was as confused as Mickie with regards to the golden demon’s conclusion.
‘Indeed. You mentioned a lack of any enforcement in response to your escape. That would be because their services were already occupied elsewhere.’
‘The hive. That district on the second tier.’
The realisation came to him with a memory of flickering fire.
‘Exactly. I suppose the pair of you must have seen it on the way out. Another gift from our mutual acquaintance.’
‘Miz-Mag did all of that?’
Sestus gave a low chuckle.
‘Of course not. What it did provide us with however was an opportunity. Your partner overheard a conversation, one in which Belphegor ordered the hive leader’s assassination.’
‘And how does that translate to the district burning to the ground?’
‘Well, the cunning old devil wanted the murder weapon to be of a particular sort. One designed for use by my very own group. A dagger bound to an urchin, one that severs the soul from a body and casts it into the abyss.’
Kalistra started at that.
‘You mean soul bound? How in the nine circles did Belphegor get one bound to an urchin? Or even use it?’
Mickie found her reaction to be a bit overblown, it was just a knife.
‘What’s so special about a soul bound weapon?’
It was the gorgon who answered him.
‘They’ve usually got abilities, like the one Sestus described. Abilities that should only be usable by whoever it’s bound to. That means if Belphegor has one that can be used…’
The two of them turned suspicious eyes on the leader of the urchins.
‘If you are insinuating that one of my own has switched sides, then you are wrong. Belphegor acquired the dagger during a failed rescue attempt.’
Gemstones eyes glinted at Mickie in something he guessed might have been meaningful look.
‘Then, through some means of which I do not know, the old fiend twisted the binding on the dagger, changed it so anyone could wield the blade.’
‘He can do that?’
Kalistra’s exclamation was driven by her understanding of the work involved. For his part, Mickie was less concerned with the how than the why.
‘So, Belphegor wanted to frame the urchins for the kill?’
‘Yes, apparently he can do that, and yes, he wanted the hive gone and us to be blamed.’
The branded man took a moment to think that over. An assassination of such a key figure would not be a simple task. To do it unseen and frame the urchins would require some serious stealth, at a level almost akin to Miz-Mag’s invisibility.
‘Illiath.’
Mickie concluded, it made sense in terms of talent and desire for power. The name elicited a smile and a nod from Sestus, and a markedly odd reaction from Kalistra. The gorgon stiffened, as if she had just had a whip cracked by her ear. She tried to hide the response with a forced frown, too exaggerated to be convincing. Suspicion piqued, Mickie glanced her way but did not comment, instead elaborating on his point.
‘If someone were to perform an assassination like that it would have to be Illiath.’
‘And you would be correct to think so.’
Mickie’s began to pull the pieces together, assembling a narrative from scattered fragments of information.
‘But it didn’t go smoothly, did it?’
He looked to the golden fiend.
‘You all got word of the assassination from Miz-Mag. Probably intervened enough that Illiath was spotted after the kill.’
A nod confirmed his thoughts.
‘Yes, it was a closer thing than we might have liked, but the hive found out who really killed their queen.’
‘So, the insects knew it was Belphegor attempting to frame you for the kill. They would not have been happy.’
The urchins had mentioned that Sestus was out on a mission when he and Kalistra arrived. Probably making sure Illiath was caught in the act. Yet Mickie had seen the hive ablaze on his way out of the spire, not something the insects were liable to do on their own.
‘I’m guessing Belphegor was watching, had his eye on the hive. Probably came down hard when he realised Illiath had been discovered.’
He paused, mulling over the reason why. Kalistra, who had been following along, jumped in with an answer.
‘Extermination.’
She said grimly, but with certainty.
‘Better to kill them all then let the secret get out.’
Sestus grinned wickedly at them, mouth stretching towards the back of its head.
‘Our thoughts exactly. I must say I was not prepared for Belphegor to come down so hard. Took us a while to extract from the hive.’
That explained the circumstances of their escape, but not their host’s motivation for providing assistance.
‘Well, it’s good to know Illiath couldn’t get away with murder, but I think it’s time you told us why we’re here.’
The golden demon leant against a nearby table, slowly blinking its gemstone eyes.
‘I suppose it is time that we got back on topic. The escape you made was impressive, but it complicates our future plans to get you out of the city. We will need to adjust accordingly.’
‘How so?’
It was not hard to guess the impacting factors, but Mickie wanted to hear it from the urchin leader.
‘Well, there is the chain currently lying across the district above. It might have caught Belphegor by surprise, but he will respond swiftly. I don’t doubt a group of enforces have already been redirected from the hive to scour the city above for you. Now our original plan would have had you leave the spire with a touch more discretion…’
‘What was the original plan?’
Kalistra interjected.
‘You made it seem as if you had some other way to remove the stone bindings?’
If it was at all disgruntled at being cut off, Sestus did not show it.
‘Well, we would have smuggled Mickie out while he was still a statue after infiltrating the spire. Miz-Mag had been working with us to form suitable points of entry. After Mickie was out, we would have cured him of the bindings, and yes, we would have not used the soul flayer.’
Sestus paused with a dramatic flourish, flaring the gorgon’s impatience.
‘And what would you have used?’
‘So eager, young champion. If you were hoping for a cure-all then you are out of luck. We would have leveraged the bond between Mickie and Miz-Mag, using their connection as a bridge to his soul, a way to get a scrubbing brush over for a clean, as it were.’
The explanation left said mortal feeling a touch uneasy. He was unsure he liked the prospect of letting the eery gemstone-eyed fiend anywhere near his soul. For her part, Kalistra seemed to accept the answer, even if it displeased her.
‘Yes, I can see that working. Would not be easy though.’
‘Not easy, but still easier than getting ahold of some soul flayer bramble. Did I mention how rare that stuff is?’
The gorgon grunted and waved Sestus on.
‘Well, back to the plan. Originally, we would have had stealth on our hands. Got Mickie out before Belphegor realised what was happening. Now though, if you aren’t discovered above, they’ll post armies at every exit. In other words, it’s about as likely to succeed as your chain plan.’
The golden demon barked out a quick laugh as Mickie scowled in its direction. Kalistra glanced between them in confusion.
‘The chain plan?’
‘Our original attempt to leave the spire. The one that got me sent to fight you. We would have escaped the palace by climbing down one of the chains connected to the city. Only Illiath got to us first.’
‘Not sure how you expected to stay out of sight for the whole trip down.’
Sestus said with low chuckle.
‘We weren’t exactly spoilt for options. Now, if we could get back on topic, what are our next moves?’
‘Ah, forgive me, Miz-Mag just made the tale so daring in the telling. As for what comes next, well, we will need to wait.’
That gave Mickie pause.
‘I’m sorry, I thought you said Belphegor would be locking down the four paths up? Shouldn’t we get out before that happens?’
‘Perhaps. The tunnels of each den are extensive, but not interconnected. We would need to head to the district above and risk getting spotted by the enforcers.’
‘So what? I can’t wait around here forever.’
Clawed hands patted the air in response to Mickie’s frustration.
‘Nor would I expect you to. The Soul Lord marked you to climb, so climb you will. We will just have to consider another way up.’
‘And that is?’
Sestus stretched its arms up, satisfied as a cat that had caught a mouse.
‘A path out in the dark, hidden from any prying eyes.’
‘You have something like that?’
‘We do. Some time ago the urchins finished carving a tunnel out of the city and up through the ceiling of the eighth circle. Using it we shall flee without Belphegor being any the wiser.’
‘And how do we get to this path out?’
‘Well’ Sestus said, leaning forward. ‘That’s the hard part.’
----------------------------------------
Mickie walked slowly back to the barracks with Kalistra, thoughts turning over the plan outlined by the cunning demon. It was a good plan, and that was the problem. An escape route, ready made for their purposes, prepared by a fiend whose reason for helping them he could not puzzle out. If he had a better alternative available, Mickie would be happy to take it.
The duo made it back to their accommodations, but Mickie found himself unwilling to step inside. His thoughts were restless, bleeding through to his body and demanding movement. Kalistra glanced back at him from beyond the threshold, pushing the protective glasses they had stolen back atop her nose.
‘You alright?’
‘Yeah.’ Mickie said, shifting his bad arm in its sling. ‘Just feel like a walk is all. Might go for a wander.’
The gorgon gave him a brief frown, before seeming to let go of whatever thought had caught her with a shrug.
‘Suit yourself.’
She slumped onto a bed as Mickie set off into the base, led by the twisting rhythm of his churning mind. Mickie wondered who it was that had placed the wreath upon his head, who it was that knew him. Did he even want to find out? His had been a life moulded by others, the existence of a tool to be used until it broke and was discarded. It was not a life he recalled with pride. Yet, now he had died he found himself a pawn yet again, playing on a board of which he could not even see the limits. Perhaps he should have turned down Miz-Mag when he awoke in that cage. Accepted whatever fate the insectile warden had in store for him.
‘Mickie, right? You okay?’
A soft voice drew the branded man from his introspection. He found himself at an intersection between tunnels, a young girl looking up at him with old eyes. Her brows were knotted in a mixture of concern and irritation. Mickie glanced about to find a large, heavily loaded trolley, no doubt he had blocked this urchin with his daydreaming.
‘Yeah, sorry.’
Taking a step to one side, he let the ageless girl get back to her task. She turned away after casting him a long look, hauling her burden through the halls with some effort. It must be strange, Mickie mused, to never be able to develop the capabilities of an adult. He wondered just how much this group had seen, huddled beneath the black city.
‘Hey, hold up.’
A sudden thought struck Mickie, a series of dots that perhaps the urchins could help him connect. It only took the taller man a few short strides to catch up with the burdened child, who turned an irritated eye on him.
‘Yes?’
‘You guys wouldn’t happen to have some sort of library down here, would you?’
‘A library? Does this look like a place of learning to you?’
The urchin had clearly had enough of him wasting her time and turned back to the trolley.
‘Okay, what about an archive, or a storage of intelligence?’
With a weary sigh the child stopped and faced him.
‘And what, pray tell, do you need to know?’
‘I want to know about the demons running the show, the houses and their marks.’
The waylaid urchin squinted up at him.
‘I suppose I could help with that. Won’t take you to our intelligence hub, but I know someone familiar with the various houses up top. Just one problem…’
A small hand waved to the trolley, and she turned to him expectantly. Mickie knew an order when he saw one and stepped up to offer his assistance with a chuckle. Even though he could only push with one arm, the two humans continued down the hall at a steady pace. In fact, free of her charge, Mickie’s new companion underwent a mood shift he found suitable of her physical age, if not her mental maturity.
‘Nice of you to lend a hand.’
The urchin said as she directed him around a bend.
‘Staying young forever is highly overrated.’
Mickie found the remainder of the walk an interesting mix of exasperating and informative. The urchin’s name was Agnes, and she had been dead for seventy-four years. In that time she had not aged a day, though apparently it was possible to do so. There were demons who could shift and warp the ages of mortals with some strange power. Agnes assured him however, that she was happy enough the way she was, before contradicting that claim by telling Mickie how lucky he was to have died in his prime.
‘Here we are. Give me a sec would you.’
The elderly child turned to an unobtrusive door set into the wall of the corridor. She fumbled with the handle and pushed it open, beckoning Mickie through, the laden trolley preceding him inside. Beyond the door lay something akin to a workshop, though one that appeared to have recently experience the passing of a cyclone. Tools were hung crooked from walls and strewn about hap-hazardously on benches. Metal shavings and debris littered the floor, narrow paths cleared for traversal. Mickie pushed the trolley to one side as he gave the mess a glowering look. Agnes strutted into the room with a happy familiarity, shoving aside some detritus to make space on a countertop.
‘Help me unload this thing would you.’
With a grunt the urchin hefted a box and set it on the cleared bench. Mickie moved to assist, unloading the trolley with significantly more speed.
‘So, you uh, you work here?’
Agnes met his cautious inquiry with a glower.
‘That I do. You got something to say about it?’
Wary of the unfulfilled promise of an introduction to someone with answers, Mickie settled for a shrug.
‘Not particularly.’
The final crate was removed from the trolley and set amongst the piles of tools.
‘Alright, delivery is done, time you introduced me to this contact.’
Agnes gave the stacked delivery a satisfied look, then dragged a stool out from a workbench. She clambered into it, taking a seat with a weary sigh.
‘Well then. I suppose you have helped me out, ask away.’
‘What?’
Mickie gave the urchin a confused look.
‘Boy, I’ve been under this city since well before you were wetting diapers in the land of the living. Did you think I spent the whole time with my head in the sand?’
‘No, but I thought you were going to introduce me to someone.’
‘And so I have. Her name’s Agnes, best blade Transcriber to every creep below the streets of this stinking city.’
The urchin’s face was stern, yet the corners of her mouth had an amused tilt that was inexplicable irritating to Mickie. He rubbed his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.
‘Well, I suppose it saves me another trek. Just how familiar are you with the demon houses? Do you know about the older ones?’
‘Of course I know about the older ones. They’re always the most famous.’
The elderly child responded with a spot of annoyance.
‘What of the fallen houses? Old, but not prevalent anymore.’
That caught Anges’ attention. She squinted at him in curiosity.
‘Maybe, depends how long ago they bit the bullet.’
Mickie cleared himself some space and leant against a bench.
‘What can you tell me, about the house of Lilith?’