In the dream Mickie was standing over someone. A naked man, weeping and burning. Shackles of glowing gold were affixed to the sinner’s arms, legs and throat. The molten bindings of avarice, tying the mortal eternally to wealth in a place where gold was as common as dirt.
How long would it be until this one was a husk? The thought came like a stone at a glass mountain. Another chip, another crack. Mickie turned away from his latest administration of justice, wondering if there would ever be a chance for some damned peace and quiet.
----------------------------------------
The first thing the branded man felt upon awakening was pain. His whole body burned like his blood had been replaced with acid. Mickie made a noise that started as a groan and swiftly devolved into a cramping cough. Everything was dark. Mickie could not even able to see his own body as he curled in on himself. The rasps he emitted rang through his unseen surrounds, echoing back like the call of a some mocking beast.
Memory returned in fits and starts as he shuddered. The machine tumbling into the black. The passage falling away and dragging them after it, down into the darkness. Miz-Mag screaming incoherently and vanishing. Kalistra’s clawed hand grasping his arm. Mickie twisting so he would hit the ground first. Then, a feeling. A memory of pressure, like a thousand eyes studying his body and a hundred hands brushing his skin. The branded man shivered and released another wracking cough.
Once he had recovered enough to move, Mickie fumbled in a pocket of his jacket for the orb lamp. With a palpable sense of relief, the trusty ball illuminated his surrounds. Light spilled into a dusty tunnel, revealing smooth walls that looked carved rather than natural. He got no further than that, spying a figure nearby.
Kalistra was slumped against one of the walls a little up the sloped passage. Her head was tilted forward, chin to sternum with limp serpents forming a curtain that hid her features. Mickie staggered over, collapsing beside the gorgon and grasping a hand to check for a pulse. A scaled palm slammed hard into his chest and Mickie tumbled down the passage. There was a low hiss that quickly shifted to a cough.
‘Mickie?’
Kalistra rasped.
‘Oh. I’m sorry I… Where are we?’
Mickie groaned and rolled onto his back. The lamp had slipped from his hand and darkness returned as it rolled away.
‘Next time I’ll just prod you with a stick.’
The branded man took a moment to catch his breath before stumbling after the retreating orb. He found it resting against a large rock that must have broken free from the cracked ceiling. Examining the damaged tunnel, Mickie wondered how they had managed to survive the fall. Even if the drop had failed to kill him and Kallistra, they should have been buried under a mountain of stone. Instead, they had awoken in a relatively undamaged tunnel.
Mickie scooped up the lamp and tromped his way back to where Kalistra lay. The gorgon was back on her feet when he returned, wincing as she tested her right leg. The serpents on her head seemed as groggy as Mickie felt, blearily peering at their stony surrounds.
‘Sorry about that. That fall put me on edge.’
Kalistra rubbed her eyes, and Mickie noted her aviators were missing. He carefully shifted his attention away from her face.
‘Yeah well, you did far worse back in the arena. I’ll live.’
Now they were both alive and well, Mickie took the opportunity to properly examine the tunnel. Looking closely, there were cracks spiderwebbing dangerously up the curved wall, though the passage itself did not seem at risk of collapse. The mortal trekked up the tunnel, intending to see the hole down which they feel. He hardly made it more than twenty paces however when lamplight fell across a wall of shattered stone. Debris was strewn before the collapsed passage, smaller chunks that had broken off or slipped through when the whole thing came down.
‘By the Blood.’
Kalistra murmured as she came up alongside him, the curse sounding strange coming from her and not Miz-Mag.
‘I’ll say. Did you drag us into the tunnel?’
She gave him a look that might have been quizzical, it was hard to tell when Mickie could not see his ally’s face.
‘No, I thought you must have.’
‘I did not.’
Mickie spoke each word with emphasis, glaring at the collapsed tunnel like it was hiding something from him.
‘And I doubt we just happened to roll down this passage.’
‘You think something dragged us?’
He nodded slowly, and pointed to a streak of darkness beneath some of the strewn rubble. Kalistra bent over and examined it.
‘Blood.’
‘Yup, probably mine. Who knows how bad I was after that fall, but I don’t remember much of anything.’
Kalistra straightened to stare at the rubble.
‘About that. I remember you grabbed me, cushioned my fall. You did not need to do that.’
Mickie shrugged.
‘Sure. But out of the two of us, I’m the one who heals the fastest. Made sense in the moment.’
Silence dragged. The gorgon seemed on the verge of saying something but kept stopping short. Eventually she released a sigh and turned on her heel.
‘We will not be leaving this way.’
Mickie nodded and followed Kalistra as she headed back down the tunnel. They moved past the point where Mickie had retrieved the lamp when Kalistra stopped abruptly. She tilted her head to the side and started examining the cracked walls.
‘You all good?’
‘Yeah, it’s just…’
She trailed off momentarily, staring at the stone.
‘…there are traces of transcriptions within this wall.’
‘Runes huh.’
Mickie mused.
‘I guess it isn’t that unexpected. We might be beneath the pillar, but it’s still a major part of the seventh circle. There’s destined to be a few runes around. Any idea what these ones are for?’
‘Nothing definite.’
Kalistra relied softly.
‘The Transcriptions are embedded within the stone itself, like those on the city wall. It means I cannot examine them, though they feel…’
She searched for the right word.
‘Protective? Yet somehow simultaneously open?’
‘Ah, yes, that makes sense.’
Mickie said dryly, and had to dodge the glare the gorgon cast his way.
‘Apologies.’
She muttered, catching his reaction.
‘Strange how quickly I grew accustomed to looking things in the eye. It is a shame we could not find the glasses.’
‘Yeah, probably buried under the rubble now. It’s too bad whatever dragged us out did not stop to pick them up.’
‘You really think something pulled us into the tunnel?’
‘Well, neither of us did it, and I doubt we happened to roll down here on our own.’
Kalistra hummed thoughtfully.
‘If that’s the case, it would be nice to know who we should thank.’
The pair started down the passage, following the slope into darkness.
‘That it would. Who knows, could have even been the machine.’
Mickie said, flicking the glowing orb into the air. Beside him the gorgon chuckled, watching the shadows dance as the light bobbed.
‘Yes, from what I saw it seemed highly inclined to assist us.’
‘Well, there’s only one way out of the tunnel, maybe we’ll meet whoever it is.’
They continued downwards for a time, the cracked walls giving way to clean stone. Wherever they were, it now deep enough to have avoided the impact of the collapsing pillar.
‘It is curious.’
Kalistra said, breaking what had been a long stretch of silence.
‘It was not just the previous tunnel that was Transcribed. We’ve been passing embedded runes regularly for some time.’
‘Is that a problem?’
Mickie asked, rolling the fall’s remnant stiffness from his shoulders.
‘Not really. It is a shame I cannot get a good look at the markings though, it would be nice to get an understanding of their function.’
‘I thought you could feel something from them?’
The gorgon shrugged.
‘Sure, but that is a vague sense of intent. It does little to inform of the transcription’s purpose.’
They rounded a bend in the tunnel and stopped short. Ahead the passage split, two separate paths continuing downwards, though one was steeper than the other.
‘It would be nice if one of them went towards the surface.’
Mickie muttered, but Kalistra did not respond. The gorgon strode towards the steeper passage and examined its walls.
‘There’s something different about this path.’
She said, running a claw along the stone.
‘Both have embedded transcription, but this one is… heavier.’
‘How delightfully vague.’
The branded man responded dryly. Kalistra restrained herself from throwing a glare his way.
‘You should know that the ability to feel unseen runes is exceedingly difficult. I was considered something of an authority among my tribe for the talent.’
‘Right. My bad. But can you elaborate on it more than saying it’s heavier?’
‘Yes, give me a moment. Like I said, these things can be difficult to quantify.’
The gorgon’s hair twisted hypnotically as she thought.
‘It is as if the runes embedded in this passage have more to them. Not in quantity, but quality. Like they were formed with far more intent.’
‘And that makes them stronger?’
She sighed.
‘I suppose you could summarise it that way.’
‘Why not just start with that then?’
This time Kalistra could not restrain the angry look she cast in his direction. Mickie was ready for it and was already grinning at the ceiling.
‘I’m just joking, thanks for dumbing it down to the level of an ignorant mortal such as myself. Do you think we should head that way? I mean, we’re in tunnels beneath the tower, there must be a reason they were Transcribed. Could be worth finding out why.’
His serpentine ally’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before she returned it to the passage.
‘It is hard to say. I do not get the feeling of ill intent from the runes, but without knowing their purpose…’
She shrugged.
‘Well, we’ve got to head downwards either way, so why not head in a more interesting direction?’
Mickie suggested. Kalistra agreed and they set off down the steeper of the two paths. What followed was in impressively long trek descent through the rock. They came across a second intersection, and relied on the gorgon’s expertise to guide them further on their way. Mickie was wondering if they were going to hit the eighth circle when a squeak cut through rhythmic sound of their footsteps.
‘By the blood, kid, we’re alive!’
Miz-Mag had reappeared and was gazing wide eyed at their new surroundings.
‘And it’s dark. Are we in the tunnels?’
Mickie threw his companion a glance and got an eyeful of the fiends grinning face as it leant in close.
‘Tunnels? You know where we are?’
Kalistra seemed to have gathered what was happening and waited patiently as the branded man conversed with the unseen demon.
‘That I do, dear boy. I heard some of the Sovereign’s lot flapping gums earlier.’
The three of them related their stories to one another as they continued down the tunnel. Mickie passed on everything Miz-Mag said to Kalistra. The taller pair were growing increasingly surprised at the revelations the little fiend provided.
‘So, both Belphegor and the Sovereign knew about these tunnels, and were willing to fight over them?’
Miz-Mag kicked the side of his shoulder rhythmically.
‘That’s what I’m saying kid. From what I saw it looks like the Sovereign’s been hunting for an excuse to put old Bel in the ground.’
‘Right, so they must have been using the Hive to spy or something, which is why the insect knew the army was in the city while Belphegor did not.’
Kalistra hummed thoughtfully as she traced a claw along the wall.
‘To destroy the entire pillar though, that hardly feels like a proportionate response.’
‘Well, that depends on what’s in the tunnels. The way Mag described those imps, it was like they were triggering something already within the tower. Some kind of pre-planned countermeasure.’
‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that ever since we awoke. The forces involved in bring down this much stone, it seems almost impossible to do while remaining undetected. They must have installed the countermeasure well in advance.’
That gave Mickie pause. He rubbed his chin as a new theory formed.
‘Countermeasures huh. These tunnels were apparently made by the Soul Lord, and from what I heard it loved a good contingency.’
Kalistra’s hair flutter with the realisation.
‘Of course. It would fit with what I know about the Soul Lord. Belphegor must have discovered whatever fail safe was in the tower and used it.’
‘That’s what I was thinking, though I suppose it doesn’t matter all that much to us. With the pillar gone we’re going to need a new way up.’
Mickie said, and Miz-Mag released a dramatic sigh from his shoulder.
‘Indeed. Such a glorious path of ascension it was too.’
‘The flyers.’
Kalistra spoke over his little companion and received a dirty look.
‘Even if the staircase’s base is gone it should still be accessible higher up. We could get a machine to fly our way up.’
‘Yeah, that could work. Though I imagine whatever’s left will be a bit of a hotspot after Belphegor’s little stunt. Hopefully Miz-Mag remembers how to drive if it comes to that.’
Something pinched his ear.
‘Watch it kid.’
The trio came to another intersection and Kalistra took a moment to gauge their heading.
‘It’s getting strong now. I think we’re closing in on whatever’s down here.’
‘About time, we must be about to hit the accursed eighth circle again.’
Miz-Mag complained, before starting.
‘You know, I just remembered something. The chimera was saying they couldn’t get into the tunnels. That they were blocked by the Soul Lord or something.’
‘But we’re in the tunnels, and wasn’t Belphegor also getting in? How can they have access when the Sovereign doesn’t?’
‘How should I know? Hardly got the chance to enquire further, did I?’
Kalistra had been listening to half the conversation, her attention on the path ahead. She suddenly stopped to glare down the passage.
‘There’s something down there, where the tunnel levels off.’
The squabbling mortal and tiny demon both went quiet and stared into the dark.
‘Yeah, the serpent’s right. There is something different down there.’
Without the powerful eyes of his companions, Mickie could see nothing but shadow up ahead. He cautiously took a few steps forward, holding the orb lamp aloft. The tunnel’s slope did indeed taper off, opening into a larger looking space as it levelled out. Amongst the shadows at the lamp’s furthest reach was an odd stretch of uncanny darkness. Unlike the contained black of the tunnel, their little lamp seemed unable to penetrate this space. Distinct in its depth.
Cautiously, the group moved through the last stretch of tunnel, eyeing the dark patch as they approached. The passage widened into what had to be a cavern, and a large one at that. Enough light finally fell upon the odd darkness for Mickie to realise what it was.
‘Careful.’
He warned as Kalistra took another step forwards.
‘I think that’s a hole in the ground.’
‘Yes, I could tell that much.’
The gorgon responded, stepping cautiously up to the rough edge.
‘I am curious about what it might contain.’
Mickie joined her at the edge and held out the lamp to illuminate the hole’s depths. Light reflected of a steep passage of jagged rock, before giving way to absolute darkness. Except absolute was not quite the right word. Leaning in Mickie could make out glimmers in the black, faint stars in the night sky. It reminded him of the abyss beneath the palace, though without the nauseating sense of vertigo.
‘The city.’
Kalistra whispered in awe. Mickie cast her a confused glance, before his eyes widened in realisation.
‘By the blood kid. We’ve gone the wrong way.’
Miz-Mag had also caught on and was clutching tight as a spider to its perch. The mortal man stared down the rough shaft, and into the darkness of the eighth circle. Those faint light were coming from the city which he had escaped not so long ago.
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‘We have gone the wrong way.’
He agreed, stepping back from the edge.
‘Well, if there’s something in the tunnels, it’s got to be here. We can’t exactly go further down.’
Mickie attempted to gauge how large the cavern was, but their small lamp was too weak for the task. He could make out the shadowed curves of the stone ceiling, but the far reaches of the space were veiled in darkness. There was something in the murk though. A large lump, elongated with an odd, bumpy outline. It might have been a large stone or outcropping, though if that were the case it was unlike any rock Mickie had seen.
‘The purpose for these tunnels must be nearby.’
Kalistra turned from the hole in the cavern floor to join him in examining the space.
‘Maybe we start with that?’
The branded man pointed out the large shape.
‘How curious. There is something…’
His ally muttered to herself as she examined the rock.
‘Yes, I think it would be a good place to start.’
‘You noticed something?’
They started into the cavern.
‘Maybe. It is a feeling, a brush of intent.’
‘Like the embedded runes?’
‘Somewhat. Though the feeling is not quite the same. I need to get close and see.’
They weaved between darkened holes in the ground, all holding the expanse of darkness and twinkle of city lights. Mickie found his initial estimates on the shape’s size were significantly underbaked. As they came closer the lumpen form grew larger and larger, towering above them before they could even see what it was. He was so fixated upon it, that Mickie failed to see the steel peg protruding from the stone floor until he was tripping over it. The branded man tumbled dangerously close to a hole in the floor and scrambled backwards to safety. Kalistra reached out a clawed hand and pulled him upright.
‘Damn it kid. You trying to take the easy way out or something?’
Miz-Mag was not at all pleased, having bounced free from its perch and nearly tumbled into the dark. The little fiend grumbled to itself, stomping over to the object that had tripped its partner.
‘And who in the nine circles put something like this in a dark cavern. Hardly up to code. I should file a complaint.’
The fiend slapped a hand against the metal then paused, leaning in close to examine it.
‘By the blood. Come take a look at this.’
Mickie obliged, approaching the steel peg with their light source. Even before he reached it the mortal could tell there was something strange about the object. It almost seemed to radiate a faint light of its own. A deep, crimson emission. He discovered that the steel peg was attached to a chain, one that ran off into the darkness towards the mountainous shape and contained the same glow. The links of metal were large, almost coming up to his knee.
‘You see it? Look closer.’
Mickie leant in and his breath caught. The metal was carved with runes, the source of the faint light he had detected. It had been difficult to notice because the script was tiny, forming densely packed lines and curves of alien scrawl. From where he stood it was as if the runes had been carved in such a way to form further meaning from the strange geometry of their carving. The effect was equal parts beautiful and unnerving.
‘In all the nine… I, I’ve never seen anything like it.’
Kalistra had stepped up beside him and was breathlessly examining the carvings. The Transcriber rand her hands upon the curved shapes and squinted at the tiny text.
‘This detail, the control required to manage these forms.’
She followed the red glow from the metal peg to the chain it held taut. Mickie trailed behind with the light as Kalistra worked her way forward.
‘The intent, it is deep, complex. Meaning folded in upon itself.’
The branded man knew better than to try for a more coherent explanation. Kalistra was bad enough with the embedded runes. These carvings might be visible, but there were an uncountable number of them.
‘Constraint. Control. Encirclement? No that’s not right.’
‘I think the snake’s lost it kid.’
Miz-Mag muttered to Mickie. Almost as if she had heard the little fiend, Kalistra straightened. Her hair was a ceaseless flickering of scale in the torchlight, and her eyes never left the runes.
‘Sorry, I know I should not be distracted. It’s just, these carvings, they are beyond the work of a normal Transcriber.’
That tickled something at the back of Mickie’s mind. A half-remembered dream swam past the waking veil of fog and he saw a face, golden with gemstone eyes.
‘The creature is contained above, I completed the rune carving personally.’
‘Who do you think did this?’
He asked, trying his best to keep the sudden unease from his voice. Kalistra spent a moment in silent contemplation before answering.
‘Well, we know these tunnels were made by the Soul Lord, so that would be the safe assumption. I have heard it was an extraordinarily proficient Transcriber.’
‘Could it have been someone else? Like a student or something?’
‘Perhaps…’
The gorgon clearly sounded interested.
‘What makes you think it would be someone other than the Soul Lord?’
‘Yeah kid, you know something?’
He had pushed a little too hard. Mickie might trust his companions to an extent, but he was not willing to inform them of the strange dreams he had been having.
‘Just a thought. Trying to rule out options.’
Kalistra hummed in thought and Miz-Mag gave him a suspicious look. Neither of them pushed him on the point though. Mickie decided a change in topic was in order and turned towards the lumpen shadow.
‘If it was the Soul Lord, I’d say we’ve managed to find whatever it hid down here. Shall we go find what these chains are for?’
Kalistra was eager to get back to the runes and agreed without hesitation. The group followed the carved chain towards the lumpy shadow at steady pace, giving the gorgon time to examine the runes. Closer to their destination they stumbled across a second chain, running an intersecting course to their own. Kalistra shifted her attention when she noticed it, examining the runes on its surface briefly.
‘I don’t get it.’
She sighed.
‘Everything about these carvings leans towards containment, yet there is something off about them. It’s like there’s an undercurrent of threat to it. A Sword of Damocles above our heads.’
‘A what?’
Miz-Mag squeaked, and Mickie thought for a moment.
‘Sword of Damocles. It’s like someone’s walked into a room with a gun. There’s an implied threat here.’
He turned to Kalistra.
‘Do you know what the danger is?’
‘No, I could probably get it with enough time, but there is too much to decipher here. We should be careful moving forward.’
They got close to the shape in the centre but were forced to stop a little short of it. In front of them the rocky floor abruptly ended, leaving a gaping hole into the eighth circle. Numerous Transcribed chains ran over the hole’s edge, to where the now massive shape was suspended over the star speckled dark. This close to the thing Mickie could make out some of its features. The odd lumps he had noticed were chains, emerging from every direction and wrapping about it in countless circles. Beneath the metal was something distinctly organic. A material that might have been feathers or fur.
In Mickie’s dream they mentioned containing a creature, but this was no simple lion or tiger. Whatever awaited beneath the chains, it was massive. A body five or six times taller than Mickie and long enough that their lamp failed to illuminate it completely.
‘Well kid. Don’t know about you mortals, but in demon speak, that is what we’d call a sleepin’ Cerberus. Not the sort of thing you want to poke.’
The branded man did not bother pointing out that the Cerberus in the prison had been smaller than whatever this thing was.
‘Any ideas what it is?’
He asked Kalistra. The gorgon had been examining the suspended giant for some time, and started at the sound of his voice.
‘I. Well, I. Maybe?’
She swallowed, visibly calming herself.
‘It’s just, it cannot be what I think it is.’
‘Why? What do you think it is?’
His ally shook her head, causing her hair to release a chorus of displeased hissing.
‘Let me check first. I need to get a better look at it.’
Mickie frowned, examining the chains that ran out over the dark.
‘I hope you aren’t planning on climbing out there.’
Kalistra chuckled nervously.
‘I am not so eager. Climbing would be a bad idea before deciphering the inscriptions. I meant that we should walk the creature’s length and search for any distinguishing features.’
‘Ah right. Makes sense.’
They started up the length of the hanging giant, stepping over chains and following the jagged edge of the pit. Mickie made out the occasional patch of what appeared to be rough skin on the prisoner, wedged between the metal and main body. By the third such occurrence he finally caught on to what they might be.
‘Are those legs?’
He indicated at the most recent impression of darkened, lumpy skin.
‘They kinda look like legs, you know, for a chicken or something.’
‘Yeah kid, now you mention it they kinda do. But we’ve past a fair few of those things already, and I still can’t see the end of this thing. That’s a lotta legs for one beastie.’
Mickie considered the chimera he had seen within the pillar. Could this be a similar demon to that? Some giant mix of creatures. Kalistra waited nearby, having not responded to his question and looking uncharacteristically nervous. The gorgon had been growing ever more tense as they walked the length of the chained creature, and Mickie supposed he could understand why, the thing was huge. Even so, they had yet to see it move so much as a muscle within its prison, even with their constant talk echoing through the cavern. If the beast knew they were there, it either could do nothing about it or did not care.
The trio passed by an additional set of taloned feet before the end of the creature was finally in sight. Mickie guessed the thing to be almost as long as a football field, and had lost count of the chains used to encompass its body. All of them were Transcribed in the fine, twisting print that drew Kalistra’s eye when they passed. Mickie wondered, that if it had been Sestus’ work, then how long had the golden fiend spent carving out runes into steel.
Ahead the pit into the eighth ended in an uncharacteristic straight line. The craggy edge of rock wasn bridged by a steel platform, one that closed the distance to what must be the creature’s head. Light fell upon bulky objects and equipment, strange devices that blocked the sight of their goal.
‘Strange that the Soul Lord put all that work into suspending the thing over a drop, only to build a path right to it.’
Mickie mused softly as they stepped upon the steel platform.
‘It is curious. The chains were Transcribed to contain, not to provide easy access. Enabling any form of tampering would be foolhardy.’
Kalistra whispered in reply. The gorgon was examining a tall stack of cylindrical drums, the kind used to store vast quantities of liquid. She shifted her attention to a low set workbench, and picked up a strange looking tool from where it lay idle. It was akin to an oversized pen, with a strange, clawed nib, and a small glass container attached to the back.
‘A Transcription Stylus.’
The gorgon told him in a breathless rush, cradling the device like it were made of glass. For the first time in a while something other than trepidation had entered her voice.
‘And that is?’
‘A tool used for carving runes. I have not seen one in some time.’
So, that was how the runes were made. Mickie thought the device looked rather crude, like an oversized pen crossed with a torture instrument.
‘You can scratch out runes with just that thing?’
‘There is substantially more to it than just scratching out, but technically, yes, I can.’
Kalistra smiled at the tool like it was an old friend, then frowned. She glanced from the device to the nearest set of chains.
‘Though I could not carve runes like those we have seen so far, their size and precision are beyond this tool.’
Mickie was frowning now too.
‘What was used to carve them.’
‘I do not know. Transcription is an ancient art, and more technique has been lost over the ages than we will ever know. I think a better question is; why is this Stylus here while the true carving implement is nowhere to be seen?’
Mickie considered the stacks of equipment and supplies atop the platform, a blockade obscuring the imprisoned beast.
‘Perhaps we can find some answers in there.’
The steel supports groaned as they moved along the platform. Every time he heard the noise, Mickie was reminded that they were suspended impossibly high up. If the construction was to give out, they would be like bugs on a windshield for some building in the dark city. Beside him Kalistra was not nearly so concerned. The gorgon alternated between examining the wand and examining her surrounds, drawn more by the curiosity about the equipment than any sense of purpose.
It was hardly more than a few meters before the pair shuffled between some crates and came face to face with the giant. The first thing Mickie noticed was the yellow protrusion emerging from the front of its face. A curved beak, hooked like that of an eagle, though utterly monstrous in size. Mickie estimated its interior would make for a cramped but liveable room. Beyond the beak was the slender, streamlined face of a predatorial bird. Grey feathers framed a closed eye as large as he was tall, before disappearing under a chain encircling its throat.
Stranger than the appearance of the bird itself, was the numerous steel rods driven into the space below its jaw. They glowed with the deep crimson light of runes, and even from this far Mickie could see the script carved into them. It was not the artistic scrawl of the chains, but the more common workings he had seen elsewhere in Hell. Attached to the Transcribed rods was some form of piping, which snaked along the metal floor of the platform and into a series of bulky machines.
‘I was right.’
Kalistra sounded somewhere between exhilaration and panic, fixated upon the giant bird like it had woken up and started singing.
‘Right?’
Mickie asked, distracted by the Transcribed rods.
‘Yes, about the identity of this creature.’
She took a steady breath, letting the moment drag.
‘Well come on, don’t keep us waiting.’
Miz-Mag’s irritated cry went ignored, and the gorgon finished centring herself before continuing.
‘I do not know how or why it is here, but this creature is called Ziz, one of the three primordial beasts.’
Ziz. The name did not ring a bell, though Mickie thought it was a bit plain for something so massive. Apparently Kalistra was dissatisfied with his lack of reaction, because she sighed in exasperation.
‘Surely mortals have stories of the three. Leviathan of the Unseen, Behemoth of the Mantle, and…’
She gestured towards the imprisoned titan.
‘Ziz of the Cycle.’
Mickie frowned in thought.
‘I can’t say I’ve heard of Ziz before, but the other two, Leviathan and Behemoth. I’ve heard of them.’
He tried to dredge what he could from his memories of the world above.
‘Leviathan is a big fish, and Behemoth is a big boar, right? I haven’t heard those other parts of their name before though.’
‘A big fish and boar…’
Kalistra sounded mildly exasperated.
‘It would be more correct to say those animals resemble the primordials. The three are the origin of the wild earth, sea and sky.’
‘Well kid, seems like this fellow is a bit of a big deal.’
Mickie turned a disgusted eye on Miz-Mag. The little fiend at least had the good sense to appear moderately ashamed of itself.
‘So, this Ziz, it’s powerful then?’
He asked.
‘Strong enough to rival the Sovereign itself.’
‘Then how did it wind up here?’
Kalistra grew pensive, seeming to finally take notice of the metal rods driven into the giant’s throat.
‘By all appearances, the answer to that would be the Soul Lord. The complexity of the Transcriptions binding it, and Miz-Mag’s story indicate as much. I could not begin to guess on the why of it though.’
‘I got some thoughts on that.’
Oddly enough, it was Miz-Mag that spoke up. Mickie turned his partner a surprised look and received a scowl in exchange.
‘Oh, don’t give me that, I’ve been round for far longer than you, there’s plenty of wisdom locked up in this little skull of mine.’
‘Uh huh…’
Something pinched his ear.
‘Anyway, as I was saying, I reckon I know why the beastie is here. You remember what the Conductor said right? About the Soul Lord’s plans?’
‘Contingencies…’
Mickie murmured to himself and looked over the suspended bird-serpent. The intricate chains that bound it, the pit dangling above the city. The scale of it was astounding. It was why Mickie had failed to see it personally, he struggled to shift his brain into thinking of this as anything more than a prison.
‘You’re right Mag.’
‘When am I wrong, dear boy?’
He turned to Kalistra.
‘Remember that thing you said about the Sword of Damocles?’
‘Of course, it was with regards to the threat implied in the Transcriptions.’
‘Right, well, you weren’t wrong. It’s just, the sword is not hanging over our head, it’s hanging over the eighth circle’s.’
Kalistra’s surprise was only shown through a small inhalation of breath.
‘The chains? You think it’s a trap?’
‘Not a trap in the traditional sense. More like a backup plan. Someone once told Mag and I that the Soul Lord loves its contingencies. I think we just stumbled across one.’
He pointed towards their feet.
‘If things went drastically wrong in the city, the Soul Lord could drop big bird here on the place.’
‘By the nine. Such a working…’
Kalistra was awed at the revelation.
‘But the Soul Lord is dead.’
She finished, and Mickie could hear the furrow in her brow, even though he could not look her in the eyes to see it.
‘It is, and it either could not, or would not, pull the pin on the big guy.’
The gorgon hardly seemed to hear him, lost in her own thoughts.
‘There are recent records surrounding the other two. Behemoth is aiding the Sovereign in its invasion, while Leviathan is more elusive. Ziz though, it was rumoured the lord of the skies had given itself to the abyss.’
‘Well, now we know it didn’t.’
Mickie turned away from the silent giant to examine the nearby machinery.
‘And apparently, so does Belphegor.’
‘Yes. Of course.’
The realisation in Kalistra’s voice drew Mickie’s attention back to her. The gorgon has circled the giant’s head to get a better look at the rods driven into its flesh.
‘Look at the runes on this rod, this is the sort of work done with a Transcription Stylus.’
She waved the strange tool towards the crimson symbols.
‘Your theory about the contingency makes sense, but it does not tell us why this platform was constructed. I think we are standing on Belphegor’s contribution to this insane scheme.’
‘Your theory? Damned snake.’
Miz-Mag complained from atop the machine Mickie had been examining. The gorgon shifted her focus from the steel rods to the piping, following it to Mickie’s side.
‘Tampering with a rune structure such as that on the chains is dangerous. What would drive Belphegor to risk triggering the trap and dropping Ziz on its city?’
‘The promise of power.’
Every hair on Mickie’s body stood on end as an unknown voice echoed through the prison. A weight fell upon his shoulders, and the branded man felt seen in a manner that was distinctly invasive. He was the rabbit under the fox’s paw, the mouse in the eagle’s claw. The feeling was far worse than that imposed by the crystalline eyes. It froze him in place just as effectively as Kalistra’s stony gaze.
‘Of course it had to wake up.’
Miz-Mag managed to squeak out. The tiny fiend was the first to break from the spell cast upon them. It swan dove from atop the large machine to Mickie’s shoulder before scurrying into a jacket pocket.
‘You think to hide from me, spawn of my enemy?’
With a sense of foreboding the branded man turned towards the imprisoned primordial. The voice had not been coming from that direction, yet he had no doubt as to its true source. Ziz had awoken, and it stared Mickie down with an eye as large as he was. The iris pushed right to the edges of the lid, a massive ring of yellowish bronze that encompassed a pupil, dark and yawning as the abyss.
‘And what manner of cursed abomination are you?’
‘Me?’
Mickie’s voice sounded tremulous, weak to his own ears. The giant’s response came as a multidirectional rumble through the air, projected in the same way the Conductor’s was.
‘Yes you. I see it on you, the mark of the spawnling, and the perverse symbiosis it describes.’
The branded man’s trepidation began to shift into irritation.
‘Are you taking about my brand? What do you mean symbiosis?’
A sigh echoed through the prison cavern, and the massive eye shifted towards Kalistra. A shudder ran through the gorgon as she became the centre of attention. The awakened beast meet her deadly gaze without so much as flinching.
‘One of the cursed serpent-kin, she who was bound to the arena. You would allow yourself to travel with one such as this?’
‘Honoured Ziz.’
To Mickie’s surprise his ally responded in respectful tone, one he had never heard from her before.
‘I know not of the perversion to which you refer. Mickie has been branded by the deal he made, same as manner others, myself included.’
The giant shifted then, hardly more than a twitch of the head. Even so, Mickie felt the rolling power behind the movement, like a spring bound at its point of greatest resistance. The pressure of it made him intensely aware of the oversized beak a short distance away. Just how effective were the chains put in place by the Soul Lord?
‘I see. But you are mistaken in thinking you were bound as this one is. The mortal has entered a contract of a different kind.’
‘I do not understand.’
Ziz’s attention shifted between Mickie and Kalistra, considering them critically.
‘I can explain this to you, but first you will answer me. What events led to the collapse of the pillar on the seventh circle?’
Surprise must have been evident on Mickie’s face, because the air hummed with amusement.
‘I may be imprisoned, but I still see much.’
That was an understatement.
‘If you can see what’s happening on the seventh, then why don’t you already know how the tower fell?’
A growl shook the steel beneath their feet, not emanating from air around them but the elongated body of the beast itself.
‘The bindings suppress me, and I can only resist them for a time.’
It was kind of like Miz-Mag’s problem, though it sounded like Mickie’s partner got to spend more of its time with the waking world.
‘Now, tell me what I have missed. The last I saw, the both of you were still bound within the arena.’
Mickie’s eyes widened with the implied length of Ziz’s suppression. Kalistra seemed eager to tell their tale, so he stood back and examined the giant beast as she spoke. He noticed that the spikes driven into the flesh below its neck were leaking blood as it shifted. Rivulets of red intermingling with the crimson glow of runes. A sudden, visceral hunger reared its head at the sight, and Mickie had to quash the feeling with a familiar disgust. Something in the branded man’s body ached for that crimson liquid, and it was not the first time he had experienced the sensation.
Visions of a dark cell came unbidden, Mickie beaten and broken at Belphegor’s feet. Sealed containers of blood-soaked bandages. His breath caught, chest tightening. The dark of the cavern was suddenly oppressive, squeezing upon him like walls of steel. Through it all the hunger sang to him with the promise of unattainable satiation. Something dug hard into his side, and Mickie glanced down to see Miz-Mag’s tiny red features creased in concern. With conscious effort he pushed out the hunger and the panic, leaving his head clear and thoughts untainted.
Belatedly, he noticed that the background noise of conversation was gone. Mickie glance up to find Ziz’s giant eye focused upon him.
‘You resisted the call. I wondered if you could.’
‘What?’
Mickie rasped and swallowed through his suddenly dry throat.
‘I saw you use my blood within the eighth. Its grip upon you should not be easy to shake.’
‘It’s fine. Just caught me off guard is all.’
He turned from the beast to the spikes in its flesh, following the pipes attached to their end to the machine.
‘This, this is all to take your blood?’
‘For one supposedly of sloth, Belphegor is quite proficient with greed.’
Kalistra was looking his way, but intentionally avoiding his eyes.
‘Mickie, are you alright? What was that?’
‘Nothing, I just…’
How could he explain that overwhelming hunger.
‘The mortal is cursed, in a manner not unlike yourself, serpent child.’
‘Cursed?’
Surely Mickie would know about something like that.
‘You truly do not know the manner of your own creation. Very well, I shall explain it to the both of you, it will serve my intentions, and time is running short.’
Miz-Mag poked its head out of his jacket pocket, curious at what the imprisoned primordial had to say.
‘You have been operating under the assumption that your deal was akin to the usual binding made in Hell. It is not. What you have agreed to is something else, older than the pact, and far more… permanent in its effect.’
Unconsciously, Mickie’s hand drifted to the lumpen scar etching the now familiar lines of the brand into his flesh.
‘Deals were created with the intent to bind a soul to another’s will, as the serpent child has experienced. They are however, as with so many things, built upon the premise of another, older power. As Mizaraphel stood over Lucifer to take Hell’s throne, so too did the modern pacts override Soul Bindings.’
The way Ziz pronounced that last part made it sound like a title for something.
‘Unlike the contractual nature of pacts, a Soul Binding is deeper. It ties two souls in a bond, with the terms of the binding serving as a catalyst for growth. The intent of the standard pact is for an exchange, the intent of a soul binding is not so limited. To intermingle such a thing as the souls of living creatures is to invite their intent into the binding. The results are often chaotic.’
‘In all the nine.’
Kalistra muttered glancing from Mickie to the chained giant.
‘I have never heard of such a thing. Is it even possible?’
Mickie was confused to say the least.
‘I don’t get what the big difference is. If I really have this Soul Binding, it doesn’t change much. I still need to fulfill the terms or face the consequences.’
‘It has to do with the way they both operate.’
The gorgon explained.
‘In the case of a pact, contracts are used to tie a soul to a purpose, the terms of the deal as it were. These soul bindings, if they truly are possible, can serve a similar function through different means. Rather than bind a soul to a task, they bind it to the other party. The terms of the deal would be enforced by both souls together. It means the consequences of breaking the bargain would be faced by both parties.’
Kalistra glanced towards the chained giant, and received a slight nod that sent a shudder through the metal platform. Mickie glanced down and met Miz-Mag’s eyes. The small demon’s face was impressively devoid of colour for a creature with red skin. Clearly the little guy did not know about the nature of the deal it had struck. Mickie paused mid thought. Actually, that was not entirely true. He recalled Miz-Mag had known that if he did not climb, then they both would die.
‘So what? Sounds like it might be a fairer deal if both parties are accountable for one another.’
Mickie said, and the air rumbled with Ziz’s low growl as its voice projected through the cavern.
‘To bind souls together is to tie their fates. It is a large part of why soul bindings were replaced with contracts. Demons do not like to suffer the consequences of their own actions.’
‘Right, so this soul binding is better than a simple contract.’
‘Not better per se, simply different. A binding is a promise of mutual change, and two souls are so much more powerful than one.’
Kalistra appeared to realise something, a shudder running through her serpentine hair.
‘Mickie, the growth of your powers, this is why it was so strange to me. If the terms of your binding are to climb, then doing so strengthens the connection between yourself and Miz-Mag, granting you more of its power.’
The branded man did not like the idea of messing with his own soul, but as he had been told, it was either that or die.
‘Then what about the hunger?’
He asked Ziz.
‘And here we come to the crux of the conversation, the reason you are an abomination. Magareem could never leave a soul unperverted, and yours is no different. I see the traces of the Soul Lord throughout your binding, like discordant threads woven into a tapestry. The stolen essence of my kin and I, entangled with your soul.’
‘What?’
‘You feel it do you not, when you look upon my blood?’
Mickie did feel it. That hunger, old and primal like a ravenous beast.
‘Your powers.’
It was hardly more than a murmur, but even still he heard the horror and awe in Kalistra’s voice.
‘Mickie your powers.’
‘Indeed. By tying our essence up into your binding, you have taken a shadow of what was ours. The rejuvenation of the cycle, the invisibility of the unseen, and the immutability of the mantle.’
The words burned through Mickie like a live wire. They sang to some part of him, the paths of power carved within his soul. He healed fast, even for a demon. He was undetectable through digital means. He resisted extremes of temperature, able to walk the ice of the ninth and sands of the seventh.
‘But, Mag has the powers too?’
‘Yes, I can sense my essence within the Soul Lord’s spawnling. I know not how Magareem set up this binding, I only know that it has occurred.’
‘You have said that name before, Magareem. Is that the name of the Soul Lord?’
Kalistra asked, and Ziz gave another slight nod.
‘Yes. It was Magareem who subdued me and had its underlings bind me within this prison. Soul Lord was the title it earned through constant manipulation and perversion of souls.’
The air shook as Ziz huffed out a breath.
‘Now, the time for explanations is over. I have told you of soul bindings, of their power. My time awake grows short, and with what remains I would make a request of you serpent child.’
‘Of me, honoured Ziz?’
‘Indeed. I wish to escape this place, but the nature of my bindings makes that difficult. Belphegor has however, by tampering with the prison, unknowingly granted me some leeway with which I may act.’
The massive eyes settled squarely on the gorgon. Throughout the massive chamber chains clanked and rattled as the giant shifted.
‘The time has come for the cycle of Ziz to begin anew. Kalistra of the Gorgons, I would offer you a deal.’