Miz-Mag hurried down the city street, heading towards the central pillar. It grumbled as it went, muttering a word each time it leapt between blood-stained cobbles.
‘Damned, kid, making, me, do, all, the, work.’
It had not taken the tiny fiend long to adjust to its new surrounds. Miz-Mag had long grown accustomed to the jumps in consciousness caused by its strange bond with Mickie, even if they could be inconvenient. The foot of an oversized rock fiend swung overhead, and Miz-Mag swerved aside to avoid getting crushed.
‘Watch it Stone Head!’
As was ever the case, the craggy demon did not so much as twitch at Miz-Mag’s insult. The tiny fiend moved to stand beside a wall and out of the danger zone for a moment, taking stock of its position. Mickie had thrown it into the deep end for sure. Nothing but a brief explanation of some random new group of demons, followed by a command to scout out the exit. Miz-Mag had yet to even see this new force, and somehow it was supposed to figure out why they were here and how to get past them.
The fiend sighed in exasperation and glanced over the busy street. Beyond the bazaar demons moved with purpose, with few loitering beside the squat sandstone buildings. Miz-Mag’s eyes rolled across the locals as they passed, the common short and toadlike fiends, large rocky demons, and smattering of other types it could vaguely recall from within the eighth circle.
Something caught Miz-Mag’s eye within the crowd. A trio of figures, moving swiftly with robes and cowls hiding their features. Their movements were subdued to the point of suspicion amongst the boisterous throng, and they appeared to be heading in the direction of the central pillar. Miz-Mag attempted to work its way over to the trio through the sea of stomping feet, but was soon retreating to the safety of the wall.
The demon cursed. It watched the figures fadeaway into the crowds and set off as fast as its little legs could carry it, this time running close to the wall. Miz-Mag was not certain if that hooded group was of interest, but it currently had little in the way of information, and they were heading in the right direction.
Gradually, Miz-Mag tracked the suspicious trio through the streets and towards the exit pillar. At one stage it almost lost them when a guard patrol came by, the crowd scattering away from the assembly of blue and white. The robed figures had vanished, and Miz-Mag was beginning to think it might have to continue alone when they came back into view, walking casually out of an alley.
By a stroke of luck, the alley from which they emerged was just ahead of Miz-Mag’s position, and the fiend capitalised on the opportunity. It closed the remaining distance at a scrambling dash, just barely managing to catch the hem of a robe before it moved too deep into the crowd. Miz-Mag clambered up the billowing fabric and was jostled against something solid concealed within. Grunting out a curse, the demon dragged itself up and onto the robbed figures shoulder.
From this height the view of the street was much improved, and the tiny fiend was surprised to find they were nearing the pillar. It had lost track of the sandstone tower in the thrill of the chase. Now though, it was near its goal and had a promising lead. Miz-Mag settled back on the cushioned shoulder, content in a job well done.
----------------------------------------
When the guards came, they did so while Miz-Mag was trying to make out the face of its ride. The little fiend was dangling off the side of the hood, peering into its shadowed interior. Miz-Mag could make out skin that might have been red, though the jostling movement was making it hard to tell.
‘What are you? Are juiced up kangaroo? Hold still a moment.’
Almost as if in response to its request the robbed demon came to an abrupt top. Miz-Mag was almost thrown from its precarious perch and swore loudly as it swung wildly.
‘Well, one might see your appearance and think you had something to hide.’
The voice was oddly high, tapering off with a laugh that was closer to the bray of some furred animal. It did not take Miz-Mag long to find the source. A group of figures in blue and white uniforms had emerged from an alley and were swiftly surrounding the cowled trio. At their head was a markedly odd demon, a large beast with the head of a goat but limbless body of a serpent.
‘By the blood, ain’t you a looker. How do you even dress yourself in the morning?’
Miz-Mag sighed, its comment going unheard. If Mickie were here he would have found that funny. Maybe.
‘Come now.’
The goat headed snake said with another braying laugh.
‘There’s no need to be so tense. We are out here for your own safety.’
Beneath Miz-Mag’s feet, the demon stirred. It robes billowed and there was a gleam of steel beneath the fabric. There was sudden shout, the crack of gunfire and suddenly Miz-Mag was falling, the demon upon which it stood folding like paper. The tiny fiend leapt free from its hooded host and scuttled to safety before risking a look back at the scene.
Two of the robed figures were lying in bloody heaps on the ground, while the third was dangling in the air. Miz-Mag stared in apprehension at the coils of scaled muscle binding the demon. The goat-serpent had grasped the survivor with its tail, and was drawing it close, blowing aside the hood with a rasping breath.
‘You would attack the Sovereign’s own?’
There was no laughter in the patrol leader’s voice now, not with two of its own also feeding the bloodstained cobbles. Miz-Mag swore it could hear the creaking of bone as the serpent’s tail tightened about its captive. The robed demon groaned, mouth agape in an attempt to gather air.
‘Search the others.’
The goat commanded, and its remaining forces jumped to obey. They pulled aside the robes, revealing the concealed assailants and their firearms. Both the weapons and the demons looked familiar to Mickie. It had seen their like before in the black city.
‘No identification, though they aren’t local.’
One of the guards reported back to its unnerving leader. The goat head released a long, deep bleat, and peered at its captive.
‘Yes. Eighth circle would be a safe guess. The question that remains, is to whom do you belong?’
The tail tightened further about the demon, and Mickie saw blood begin to run out of its gaping mouth.
‘Come now, no need to be so aloof. You can tell me. Is it Belphegor? Has that dusty old lord come looking for its wayward prey?’
Only now did the goat-serpent give its victim the chance to speak. The tail loosened enough that the demon could take a ragged breath. It began to cough and splutter, crimson bile spilling forth from its lips. It took the return of pressure from the tail encasing it for the demon to finally cease its gasping and heave out an answer.
‘C-came for the bug.’
‘Ahh, so it must be Belphegor then.’
The chimeric fiend bleated softly, allowing its victim the breath to speak.
‘Yes. The lord. Came for the bug, and the Soul Lord’s, chosen.’
Miz-Mag tensed up at that last part, and it caught the flare of interest from the goat.
‘Chosen? What chosen?’
But the captive demon appeared to have regained a touch of its fiendish pride. The creature spat a wad of bloody phlegm into the goat’s looming face.
‘It does not matter. Not now the lord knows of the Sovereign’s presence. You should have stuck to your crusade, slave. Now our lord will...’
The patrolling leader appeared not to take the rebuke well. Its tail began to squeeze tighter, cutting the captive off mid-sentence. The strangled demon made a noise that intermingled a sigh and a whimper as the air exited its lungs.
‘I asked you a question. You would do well to answer.’
Except the demon could not answer, could not even get enough air to inhale as the serpentine leader crushed its body. Miz-Mag stood slowly from its spot on the cobbles and began moving towards one of the guards. The revelation that these were the Sovereigns forces did not feel altogether that surprising. It would be just their luck that Hell’s big boss decided to pack it in and come back home as they were heading up.
At least it seemed that the Sovereign did not know about Mickie. Miz-Mag might not know what had brought its forces here, but whatever it was, it wasn’t them. Although, the tiny fiend mused, that might have changed if old goat gave its prisoner another chance to speak.
‘Come now, you’ve gone awfully quiet.’
The observation was followed by the bleating laugh. In the grip of the scaled tail the demon looked as though its head was about to pop off. Rivulets of blood ran from the fiend’s eyes.
‘Now, I’ll give you one last chance. Tell me…’
CRACK.
The sound echoed through the now empty street like the gunshots had before. In the coils of scaly flesh, the demon twitched violently once, then went limp as a wet rag. Miz-Mag burst out laughing at the surprised look on the goat-serpent’s face.
‘That’s one way to make ‘em talk.’
The chimeric demon gaped in silence for a few moments, before snapping its jaw shut with an audible click. It released the incognito enforcer, and the demon fell bonelessly to the floor.
‘I forget how weak these bedraggled dogs are at times.’
There was a murmur of ascent from the surrounding guards, one that seemed to appease their leader. The serpentine body shifted, turning away from the dead demons and towards the central pillar.
‘I need to report this. If Belphegor is coming, we must prepare.’
The goat bleated out a series of instructions to its followers, and Miz-Mag made sure to attach itself to the returning team. If it had to take a guess at where the Sovereign’s force would be based, the central pillar would be a top pick. The patrol’s chimeric leader led the way towards the towering monolith of yellow stone, crossing an open courtyard humming with activity.
Inside, the tower was lit by chunks of glowing crystal, shaped and set into the roof of a carved tunnel. They turned off the wider entrance passage to ascend a flight of stairs. Miz-Mag glanced longing down the corridor, thinking that if the exit stairs were anywhere, they would be further down that passage. It had already decided to hear out the demon’s report, however. There would be time to backtrack and locate the exit later. The small group came to a stop before an officious set of double doors, and the goat-headed serpent knocked with a flick of its tail.
‘Enter.’
A muffled voice sounded from within, and the goat headed serpent pushed open the entrance to reveal a high ceilinged meeting chamber. A table dominated the space but beyond that was an opening leading to a balcony, one that overlooked the busy plaza. There were not many demons in the room, and Miz-Mag was quick to dismiss all but two as unimportant. One was a figure who was clearly the leader, standing where others sat, a fiend with the face of a monkey. The other was a lone insectile demon that Miz-Mag recognized from within the hive, sitting hunched and out of the way.
‘Well, looks like old Belphegor let one slip the noose.’
The little demon mused as it clambered onto the table. If one of the insects was here, then the Sovereign knew about Belphegor’s assassination attempt.
‘Good move running to the seventh.’
Miz-Mag applauded, making its way over to the bug and giving one of its chitinous claws a good slap. The fiend jumped at the sensation, casting a wary look around as it rubbed the offending limb. As amusing as it was to taunt the bug, something nagged at Miz-Mag. It now knew why the leftover hive demons had run to the seventh, with the Sovereign’s forces offering better prospects for protection and revenge. However, that would mean the bugs knew about the army’s presence in the desert, while it seemed Belphegor did not. Miz-Mag turned to the room’s chimeric leader. Hopefully there would be a chance to get some answers.
‘You had a report to give?’
The monkey-headed demon asked after a lengthy silence. It was strange to see the large serpent chimera so subdued, but the fiend seemed downright nervous now it was facing its superior.
‘Yes Commander. My team and I had an encounter within the city.’
There was an uncomfortable mixture of hesitance and enthusiasm to the goat, resulting in its words falling out in a jumble.
‘We came across several suspicious individuals under cloaks, so we stopped them for questioning. Then they made to fire on us, so we subdued them.’
The demon paused as if to think, before starting abruptly.
‘Oh, and they were under Belphegor. Came to assassinate the bug.’
A susurration rippled through the seated forms at the pronouncement. Beside Miz-Mag the lone insect when as rigid as they stone pillar they now occupied.
‘I see. Was there anything else?’
The goat’s serpentine body squirmed under the intense stare of its superior and it released a nervous bleat before continuing.
‘The demon I question made it apparent that there might be more coming. It seemed to think Belphegor would not stand our presence.’
The monkey’s face darkened with the promise of a storm.
‘And who are they to speak against the will of the Sovereign? Where is this wretch you took captive?’
A hesitant silence overcame the goat-serpent as it seemed to wrestle with something. As bad at reading others as Miz-Mag was, even it could see the waring anxiety and desire. It did not take long for the desire to win out.
‘I was overcome with wrath at the demon’s words Commander. I crushed its bones until it broke like the weak thing it was.’
All in the room awaited their leader’s response to that. Unsure if they would be seeing rage or approval.
‘You overreached your preview by killing a captive without leave to do so.’
The monkey said at length, and Miz-Mag could have sworn it saw the fur grow pale on the goat’s head.
‘However, you did so in reaction to defiance of the Sovereign. I cannot fault that.’
The leader mulled something over momentarily.
‘We were discussing our future movements on the sands when you arrived. Your information was relevant and your actions acceptable, you may stay for the discussion.’
‘Thank you, Commander.’
The goat all but gushed, pride and pleasure evident. It nodded its subordinates to the door before moving to take a position in the corner of the room. Miz-Mag was unsure what had just happened. Had that been the leader handing out a reward or something? Letting the bulky chimera sit in on a meeting? The little demon did not get why the bleating goat was so enthusiastic about it.
‘So, we now know that Belphegor is aware of our presence within the city. Let us continue with the remaining reports. Lizalphus?’
A scaled demon with bulging eyes shifted, only ending the death stare it had been giving the goat chimera to focus upon the leader.
‘Of course, Commander. As I was saying before we were interrupted, the disturbance reported at the plateau ruins appears to be growing.’
‘Growing?’
Another demon asked.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
The lizard flicked the questioner an irritated look.
‘It means that the noise coming from within the rocks has been rising. Though our scouts have yet to report a source.’
‘And the additional sensors?’
It was the monkey chimera interrupting now. The reporting demon did not through that one an angry look.
‘On route via the flyers as we speak Commander. They should be able to track the source of the music.’
Music? Miz-Mag frowned. Why would there be music coming from some old ruins out in the desert?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
‘Very well. With Belphegor present on the sands, we will have to limit our research into the disturbance, but continue with the installation. What’s next?’
A squeaky little demon that was an odd mixture of mouse, bat and bird spoke up.
‘Progress on the tunnels Commander.’
‘Ah yes, how goes our little excavation effort? I’m certain Lord Asmodeus would be eager to hear of progress.’
Attention turned to a quivering mixture between mole and centipede. A blind head with twitching snout topped and elongated furry body lined with clawed appendages.
‘Y-yes commander, progress. Well, as you are aware the tunnels beneath the city are heavily protected. The Transcriptions sealing them are proving difficult to circumvent.’
‘That does not sound like progress.’
The monkey faced leader cooly replied, prompting an increase in intensity of its subordinates nervous shifting.
‘Well, these are clearly Transcriptions done by the Soul Lord itself. It is no easy feat to get around them.’
‘And yet Belphegor managed!’
The anger cracked out like a whip, and the mole reacted as if it had been caught by the lash, flinching backwards.
‘Y-yes or so we have been told. B-but my team have noted no trace…’
‘No trace? You are not looking for traces of Belphegor, you are looking for access. There is clearly something down there that Belphegor has been using, and the Sovereign has ordered us to find out what!’
‘But the evidence…’
‘Evidence!’
The new voice buzzed through the meeting room like a locust swarm, uncontrolled and angry. Miz-Mag was startled to hear the insectile demon speaking up It felt uncomfortable standing nearby as all they eyes in the room turned towards the Hive’s remaining survivor.
‘You dare question our word! The Hive risked itself to report to you on Belphegor’s movements. Our Queen has fallen to Belphegor in response to unveiling its crimes, and yet you dare question the truth of our word?’
‘Quiet!’
Snapped the leader, slapping a palm hard on the table hard enough that the stone cracked. Beside Miz-Mag the insect fell silent but for a low droning buzz, fixated upon the nervous mole.
‘I expected better of you.’
The monkey faced chimera spoke cooly to its quivering subordinate.
‘You know of the Hive’s efforts to get us this information, and still, you try to shift the blame upon them. A house has all but fallen to Belphegor’s hubris, and it is now our responsibility to attain recompense.’
‘B-but Commander…’
‘And now, the decrepit lord is making its way onto the sands.’
The mole’s squeaky attempt at an interruption was quashed.
‘So, tell me, will we need to drag access to the tunnels from Belphegor itself, or will you finally make some progress?’
Innumerable clawed hands quivered as the fiend nodded, curling in on itself like a wounded animal.
‘Good. If you fail to provide anything of value, it might be time to put someone in charge that can.’
It was subtle, but the monkey shifted a glance towards where the goat-headed serpent lay coiled and attentive. Noticing that the whole room had caught the gesture, Miz-Mag thought it might have been intentional. Showing favour or something like that. The little fiend did not give the political play too much thought, fixated instead upon the topic of the leader’s wrath.
Tunnels beneath the city, created by the Soul Lord. Miz-Mag was usually the one to stay on task while Mickie stuck his nose into every diversion. But information on the mysterious originator of its brand was a weak spot for the tiny fiend. For a time, it had Sestus to provide a window into the past. But that strange old demon was gone, leaving only an unfamiliar feeling in Miz-Mag’s chest. The little fiend shook itself, pushing away thoughts of its dead friend. There was work to be done.
The conversation at the table shifted to matters that it did not care much about. That was fine, Miz-Mag had done its job and gotten information on the situation in the city. Easy done. Now it just needed to find a path to the exit and get Mickie and that Gorgon’s lazy bones to it. Hesitation crept over the little fiend as it made to move. Perhaps there was a third task, a quick peak at these tunnels that the demons had been discussing. It would not affect the timetable all that much. Besides, Mickie would probably want to know about some random tunnels if they were related to the Soul Lord. Conversation in the room and Miz-Mag internal musings were abruptly cut short as something hammered hard against the doors to the meeting hall.
‘Enter.’
The monkey headed leader called out after a lengthy silence, brows furrowed. With a crash the doors burst open, and a haggard looking demon entered. It was not a chimera, but a tall and lean horned creature.
‘C-commander. I have an urgent report from the wall patrols.’
It panted and waited for a nod from the leader before continuing.
‘Belphegor’s forces have been spotted approaching the city.’
Noise erupted in the room, demons chattering over one another in a sudden rush. The leader held its hand up for quiet and when that did not work, slammed it upon the table once again. This time a chunk of carved stone broke free and crashed to the ground.
‘Silence!’
It glared about until the occupants of the space quieted.
‘From which road is Belphegor reported to be coming?’
The lanky demon hesitated momentarily, clearly not eager to deliver the next bit of news.
‘All of them.’
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It took a considerable amount of shouting and cajoling for the chimeric leader to drag its underlings into a semblance of order. The leader made plans at high speed, noting the size of Belphegor’s forces and decided to consolidate in the pillar if they pushed. Commanding the near hysterical mole demon to break into the tunnels immediately. Ordering the serpentine goat to gather a patrol and ensure the exit highway was secure.
Miz-Mag stopped bothering to listen after that part. The little fiend bolted to the oversized snake and clambered onto its horned head. If they were going to offer a free tour of the place, then who was it to complain. Plus, it seemed like things were going to start getting real chaotic around here. Better to get moving before it became too difficult.
The goat-serpents horned head provided a great vantage point from which it could watch the pandemonium unfold throughout the pillar. Demons in blue and white rushed about like supercharged ants, having orders screamed at them and screaming orders in turn. The oversized snake carved its way through the mess like a hound that had a scent, the team it had picked up trailing in its wake.
They descended the stairs back to the wider hall Miz-Mag recalled from their arrival. Demons were flocking into the tower from the open doors, and the chimera began to bowl them over in its rush. As the amused little demon had predicted, the exit was indeed down the wider hall, towards the centre of the pillar.
With surprising speed they reached their destination, leaving not an inconsiderable number of injured demons in their wake. The fiend made sure it remembered the path they took to get here, not that it was overly difficult, just straight down the wide passage. The exit chamber was a massive carved cylinder of stone, lined with a broad set of stairs that stretch far out of sight above. Miz-Mag laughed in glee at the sight of it.
‘By the blood, this will serve nicely.’
The thought of Mickie clambering up those stairs was like waving water before a parched mortal. Miz-Mag shuddered at the thought of such progress. Ascension straight to the fourth circle. Not much further until it could be complete.
‘Station yourselves by the doors. Not a fiend comes or goes from this chamber without orders from the Commander itself.’
While Miz-Mag was riding the high of its impending escape, the goat-serpent was brimming with its recently attained approval and authority. The demon imitated the cool tone of its leader, barking out orders and shoving its underlings into position. Miz-Mag ignored the jumped-up chimera’s antics, leaping from its head to examine the staircase.
For all that the gorgon had been a nuisance and a liability, the tiny fiend had to admit her intelligence of this particular exit had been a win. It meandered to the cylinders hollow centre, staring upwards to the point where the spiral of stairs pinched into a single distant point. It was so far that Miz-Mag had no chance of spotting its terminus. The fiend laughed again in glee and turned to its makeshift companion.
‘Thanks for that, you ugly little bleater.’
The chimera was now demanding reports from its subordinates, commanding some of them out to report on the status of Belphegor’s forces. Miz-Mag listened with half an ear, thinking about its next move. With the exit found, that was it, job done. The fiend could return to Mickie and get its angry little partner through to the stair, and from there up and out of Hell. The little fiend hesitated to pull the pin on its return. If it came back with Mickie, they would likely not get a chance to investigate the hidden tunnels. It had earned the chance for at least a small search.
Miz-Mag meandered over to the chambers closed door and peeked through the small gap beneath them. Chaos still reigned beyond. Plenty of feet willing to trample it and not even have the decency of noticing. Oh well, time was of the essence. The little fiend could always stick to the walls or jump from shoulder to shoulder. How hard could it be to find the tunnels that the Sovereign’s lot had mentioned? Miz-Mag lay down flat and squeezed its way under the door.
----------------------------------------
The hidden tunnels were, in actuality, quite well hidden. In retrospect, the fact that these tunnels had gone undiscovered for so long should have clued Miz-Mag in that they might be difficult to find. The tiny fiend spent a frustrating amount of time roaming passages packed to the gills with harried demons. Eventually it took enough turns to break away from the masses crowding near the entrance and could speed up its search.
It was deep in the pillar, in an area occupied only by the occasional patrol, that Miz-Mag finally gave up the goose. The little red fiend gave the passage wall a frustrated kick, then cursed at the sudden pain shooting through its foot.
‘Seven devils, maybe the kid was onto something with that shoe fixation of his.’
This particular passage of carved stone was no different from any of the others which it had passed through. Miz-Mag had not only failed to find the hidden tunnels, it had also gotten lost in the process. The fiend sighed as the pain in its foot faded. It was time to disappear. Hopefully the wait would be long, it would be good if they could capitalise on the chaos caused by Belphegor’s invasion.
However, just as it drew upon the link to Mickie, something tickled Miz-Mag’s ears. It was a distant sound, echoing through the deep tunnels. Cracking, shouting, and screaming. The red demon glanced up with peaked curiosity, had the fighting started outside the pillar? It must have been severe for the sounds to reach Miz-Mag so far inside.
With nothing else to do but give up the fiend started towards the noise, making a couple of turns before the sounds tapered off. Miz-Mag had a heading though, and it was not long before more noise reached it, shouts and upraised voices that provided further guidance. The fiend found and passed a dead patrol when finally, the hum of normal conversation reached its ears.
‘…telling you, they’re on a timer. We ain’t got long to finish up before the whole place starts comin’ down.’
‘The Lord wouldn’t do that. Not with us inside.’
A bark of laughter echoed down the passage as Miz-Mag approached.
‘The Lord will do whatever it wants to do. I don’t even think that big guy would be safe if it decided the time was right.’
The second voice tried to protest but was shouted down.
‘Oh, give the loyal dog spiel a rest. Aren’t you a self-respecting demon? You’re embarrassing yourself.’
There came a shout and a grunt as Miz-Mag rounded a corner to a short corridor. A door was ajar to a side room, and it was from there that the ongoing grunts and curse were emanating. The little fiend trotted over and found a small room, potentially a storage or service cupboard. Two imps were grappling one another on the floor, the hoods of cloaks shoved back to reveal angry faces.
‘Self-respecting demons indeed.’
Miz-Mag chuckled as it meandered through the door.
‘Now, what are the two of you doing here?’
It was clear from what it had overheard that these two were not with the Sovereign. Probably Belphegor’s, though the fiend felt it was unlikely that these two had killed the guard patrol. They could barely keep one another pinned to the floor. Miz-Mag stepped passed the angry duo and examined the room for anything that looked out of place. Mostly it was just dusty shelves filled with dusty machinery, everything was untouched excepting a panel set into the far stone wall. The metal door hung open and drew the tiny fiend’s attention like a moth to a flame.
Miz-Mag clambered up to observe the small access hatches’ interior, finding a strange metal rod set into the stone. It glowed with the deep red of carved runes, though seemed to not be actively doing anything that Miz-Mag could discern. Back on the floor, the duo of cloaked imps appeared to have finished up their spat and were glaring at one another with a tired kind of contempt.
‘The lord will hear of your disloyalty.’
One rasp, and the other chuckle and spat in response.
‘Like Belphegor will give a shit. Now, let’s get the last one sorted and get out of here. I hope that the machine they sent along with us has handled the way out.’
Curious, Miz-Mag caught a ride with the demons to their next destination. The battered duo made their way through a series of halls before entering another room with a panel set into the wall. Miz-Mag watched as they wrenched free the covering to reveal another plain metal rod set into the stone. One of the imps took out a strange tool and did something to it, and the rod began to glow red with runes.
‘Alright, that’s it. Let’s scramble before the whole place comes down on our heads.’
Miz-Mag’s eyes widened. Whole place coming down? That did not sound good. The two demons fled the room at a substantially faster pace than before. They seemed to know where they were going, and soon rounded a bend to find another group of the Sovereign’s guards. Only this time they were not quite dead.
Whimpers and groans slithered from a scene of twitching bodies and splattered gore. Bodies in white, blue and blood red were strewn about hap-hazardously, all prostrate before a towering figure at their centre. The thing was huge, tall as the tunnel and half as wide. A body of overlapping plates and sharp edges, with four arms ending in hands with steak knives for fingers. Its back was to Miz-Mag and his unknowing guides, though apparently the monster was not unaware of their presence.
‘Is the task complete?’
The voice was flat, and it drove into Miz-Mag like a shard of ice.
‘Y-yeah. All the rods are active. I’m guessing you secured the escape route?’
It appeared the two imps were as wary of the metal monster as Miz-Mag was. The giant listened to the report, then without pausing to think retrieved a device from somewhere. It was a small cylinder of some kind, barely visible within its monstrous palm.
‘Wait a moment, what is that? what are you do…’
Miz-Mag felt something then, a barely perceptible thrum. Goosebumps broke out across the little fiend’s flesh at the sensation.
‘Did it just?’
‘But we’re still in here?’
The two imps were suddenly frantic, stumbling away from their metal ally like it had taken a swipe at them.
‘The rods are active.’
‘You’ll kills us all!’
One of the imps wailed as the giant tossed the rod aside, turning about to face them. There was probably more vitriol cast forth by the two spluttering demons, but Miz-Mag was suddenly unable to hear them. The machine was facing them now, looking at them with familiar, gemstone eyes. Looking, and seeing Miz-Mag.
The monster took a heavy step forward and Miz-Mag was back in the tunnels, standing over Sestus’ dead body. It took another and the little fiend was back in the ninth, watching as the Mechanist possessed the broken body of the Palace Lord.
‘What in the nine are you doing? Get back. Keep your distance.’
Miz-Mag could not move, could not think to pull on its connection to Mickie. At that moment its world had narrowed to the points of two gleaming eyes. Lucky then, that the two imps were not so restricted. For all that the machine was supposedly their ally, it was also a towering promise of death, one that now stomped towards them in unnerving silence. They hesitated, then turned, and ran.
Corridors stuttered by as Miz-Mag tried to make sense of it. Those had to be Sestus’ eyes, they had to be. There was something familiar about the sensation of their attention, familiar yet perverse as a betrayal. The sound of the machine’s pursuit was steady as it was thunderous. Miz-Mag knew it had to flee, had to return to Mickie, but found itself unable. What had Belphegor done to the body of its friend? The tiny fiend desperately tried to gather its thoughts as the two imps scurried through the halls.
The demon on which Miz-Mag was riding suddenly tripped, taking its companion down with it and launching the little rider from its perch. Miz-Mag tumbled free and hit the floor, the impact coming upon the little fiend like a splash of cold water. The imps had said the place was going to come down on them. The machine had done something to start the process. It needed to run. Rolling over, further thoughts fled from the unseen demon’s mind like a fart on a windy mountaintop. The monster boiled into the hall like a dark wave, stomping ever forward.
Desperation gripped the tiny fiend, and it scrambled upright and ran down the hall. Screams shifted to gurgles as the giant stomped over its own sprawled allies. There was something Miz-Mag was supposed to do, something to help it escape those gemstone eyes. It needed to get to Mickie. Needed to disappear. The fiend reached for the bond with its partner, grasped the release, and darted round a corner of the passage. It screamed its fury at the last, before scrambling to a sudden stop. Mickie stood beside the gorgon, giving the little fiend a confused look. Miz-Mag skidded to a halt before its partner, mental grasp slipping from the release of their bond.
‘Mag? What are you doing here?’
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‘We sure are in for it this time kid.’
The pillar quaked around them with the violence of an awakening god. It roared at them, like the stone had come alive and noticed the trespassers burrowed into its flesh. Mickie looked from a haggard Miz-Mag to the metal giant, who even now stomped in their direction.
‘Mickie, look at its eyes.’
It was Kalistra, her voice coloured by a mixture of shock and disgust. Mickie shifted his focus to the machine’s head and made out two faceted circles of gleaming crystal.
‘Are those from Sestus?’
‘Forget the machine would you, we need to run!’
Miz-Mag had scrambled up to his shoulder and was frantically shouting into Mickie’s ear.
‘Did you miss the part where I said the whole place is coming down on our heads?’
As if to back up the little demon’s point, the intensity of the rumbling spiked. Mickie put a hand against the wall to remain steady.
‘Mag is here. It says the place is about to collapse. We need to leave.’
Kalistra’s eyes widened comically.
‘Are you serious?’
Mickie nodded once and cast a glance back over his shoulder at the approaching giant. Even a machine of its heft could no longer move unimpeded. It clasped the walls to either side of the tunnel with its four metal hands. It was like the Mechanist had crawled out of the grave and pulled on a suit of sharpened steel. Mickie wanted to kill the damn thing, but Miz-Mag was getting downright apoplectic as he delayed their flight.
‘Back the way we came?’
He asked Kalistra. The Gorgon nodded curtly and set off at something resembling a fast walk. The metal giant gave chase, clawing its way towards them like the whole damn place was not about to come down on their heads. Mickie could feel it, the ground tilting and shifting beneath their feet through all the quaking. Walls were cracking around them, and chunks of stone would occasionally bounce of his head and jacketed shoulders. Still, the machine gave chase, and between occasional glances over his shoulder, Mickie realised it was closing.
Ahead Kalistra took a corner and stopped short. Mickie nearly stumbled into her back as he scrambled to slow amidst the quaking stone. He did not need to ask what the problem was, it was right there for all to see. The floor of the hallway was simply gone, a gaping hole into darkness having taken its place. It was as if the eighth circle was trying to claw them back, reaching up through the stone to grab them. Behind them the gemstone eyed machine shuffled closer, almost urgent, like it sensed its quarry had been cornered.
‘Jump or fight?’
He yelled over the roar of cracking stone. Kalistra looked at him, at the closing machine, then towards the hole in the floor. It had to be at least a five-meter gap of inky death. A risky prospect with the world falling apart around them.
‘No time to fight then backtrack.’
She said, almost too quietly for Mickie to hear. Then, without hesitation, the gorgon took a couple steps back, charged, and jumped the gap. She landed in a heap on the shaking floor, a couple of feet from the edge. Mickie’s gut clenched, then released as he saw she had landed safely. The branded man stepped back for his own run up, glancing behind him to see that the machine was a mere few meters away.
‘Enjoy the dark asshole.’
He ran and jumped. The ground shook violently just as his foot was leaving it, almost as if it were protesting his escape. Mickie twisted unintentionally in the air, his momentum shifted enough that he failed to clear the gap, his gut slamming into the ragged edge of stone. The wind left him, and Mickie clawed at the floor as he bounced away, sliding towards the abyss. A scaled hand grasped his wrist and pulled him up and over the ledge. Mickie gasped for air as he clambered onto the quaking stone. That had been too close.
Back across the gap the machine was hunched low and glaring at them with Sestus’ uncanny eyes. The thing reminded Mickie of a cat watching a mouse through a glass screen, fixated with an unerring intensity. It did not matter, the construct was to large, too heavy to cross the gap. They were safe.
These thoughts were circulating through a victorious Mickie’s mind as he prepared to leave. So, when the machine jumped, he almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. Heavy legs of steel powered it into the air, and the construct bobbed upwards like a thrown bowling ball. It started to drop well short of the safe distance when thick arms powered out towards the walls of the hall. Steel slammed into the cracked remains of carved stone and drove the giant forward, right at them.
Mickie cursed and began to scramble back as the machine contacted the stone ledge in much the same way he had, partway on with arms scrambling for grip. Even through the shaking of the tower he could feel the blow, a shudder in the structure fiercer than those before. Clawed hands dug into rock, and the machine began to haul itself up and out of the hole.
‘Like hell!’
A triple barrelled gun formed in his palm and Mickie fired and one of the metal hands. It warped and loosened its grip. He called forth his power and it streamed into the weapon. The barrel rotated nearly instantly. With another shot the warped appendage came free from the giant’s body, and it slid backward. With the limbs remaining to it the machine desperately clawed for the edge, but its momentum was spent. Mickie looked into the gemstone eyes and could have sworn he saw something like fear in them. The machine’s sharpened fingers carved divots into the floor as gravity had its way. With a final, desperate grab, the metal giant came free and was claimed by the dark.
Mickie sighed and turned to give Kalistra a grin, only to find that the gorgon was not looking in his direction. Her attention was focussed ahead of them, her face a picture of terror. Mickie felt it before he saw it, a gradual shifting of momentum, tilting them back and towards the hole. Cracks ran like the script of an ancient language, crawling along the floor and walls. Even as he noticed them, the lines thickened to reveal insides of stone and shadow. Mickie reach for Kalistra’s arm, trying to pull her forward, but tripping himself as the ground bucked.
He could see the point where their stone shelf was breaking free from the quaking passage. It was only a couple of meters away. It might as well have been a mile. Mickie tried to rise, but it was too steep to stand. The shaking of the tower and the failed landing of the machine had been too much for the stone shelf. It had given up ground in its fight against gravity, another chunk of hallway coming free.
Mickie could almost feel the abyss reaching up to grab him, pulling him in like a jealous lover. One moment he was struggling for the broken edge of stone, the next he was tumbling into the black. The trio followed the giant machine into the darkness, with the roar of the pillar sounding like laughter behind them.