The first sign they had reached their destination was the wet, visceral sound of bubbling blood. It explained the increasingly intense taste of iron in the air, though that did little to settle Mickie’s queasy stomach. Kalistra spied the bubbling pool through the bone trees, pointing it out to him as a vague impression of red. This close to the blood, the leafless boughs about them seemed more vibrant, growing taller with thick, bulging masses of roots.
Miz-Mag rode atop his shoulder, having returned from its rest some time earlier. Mickie thought the time required had been rather short, and he was unsure if it was because Mag had gone intentionally. After hearing all that stuff about Soul Bonds, he was unsure what to think. The branded man paused mid step as a strange feeling washed over him. It was vague, impressionistic as a soft breeze and familiar in the unremembered way of deja’ vu.
‘Woah. Kid, you feel that?’
The little demon had been slouching on its perch, but jumped upright at the same moment Mickie had paused.
‘Yeah, I did.’
The only one who seemed unaffected was Kalistra. She had failed to notice the mortal stopping, only turning back to check on them at the sound of Miz-Mag’s voice.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah, I uh… Did you feel anything just now?’
Mickie asked and received a puzzled look from the gorgon.
‘Feel something? Like what?’
‘Like something was watching us.’
Miz-Mag cut in, and they both turned to give the fiend a look.
‘What? I thought you felt it too kid?’
Now his companion mentioned it, Mickie could recall an intent behind the strange feeling, like it had been searching for something.
‘Odd. I am unable to see anything nearby.’
Kalistra murmured and turned back to the lake. She took a couple more steps forward, peering through the trees.
‘There is nothing apparent… Oof.’
With a wheezed exhalation the gorgon stumbled backwards and fell over a gnarled, white root. She hit the ground with a pained grunt and puff of dust.
‘You alright?’
Mickie started forward to assist as Miz-Mag let lose a peel of laughter.
‘By the blood Kali, I thought those eyes of yours were supposed to help you see where you’re going.’
The gorgon scrambled back to her feet, throwing the little demon a glare before turning away. Mickie could not help but notice the slight discolouration of her cheeks, however.
‘Something blocked my way just now. I’m fine.’
She checked on Ziz’s egg, still in the makeshift sling made up of Mickie’s jacket. After confirming her charge was safe, Kalistra gingerly stepped towards the lake again, hand outstretched, only to stop short. This time Mickie could see it, the way her palm was suspended in the air. It was pressed up against something. Kalistra lifted her other hand to the unseen obstacle and pushed hard against it. Her feet carved twin channels in the dry earth as she slid backwards.
‘What in the nine?’
Miz-Mag muttered as the gorgon straightened. Kalistra gave up on shifting the invisible barrier, but kept a few fingers pressed to it.
‘I cannot see it.’
‘Clearly.’
Miz-Mag snipped and was promptly ignored.
‘I should be able to to see it after gaining some of Ziz’s power. I can see Miz-Mag, yet I cannot see this.’
Mickie moved towards the gorgon.
‘If it’s any consolation, I can’t see anything either.’
The branded man stepped up beside his ally and reached forward gingerly. The tips of his fingers pressed upon a hard surface, and Mickie was seized. His body went rigid as stone, breath catching as lightning buzzed through his veins. It was electricity with intent, examining him, categorising him, and passing beyond him. Mickie’s vision twisted as his brain was pulled along for the ride. Suddenly, the branded man was a sleeping titan with bones built into the earth. His veins were empty, yet his blood churned. An arm sat silent and quiet, fist closed but waiting to open, to reach up and grasp more of itself.
With a sensation like pulling free from a pool of tar Mickie was abruptly back in his own body. He lay on the cracked ground, gasping and reeling, a headache blossoming behind his eyes. That had felt invasive beyond measure, like his consciousness had been scooped out of his own body. The others were silent as Mickie struggled into an upright position. He found them both stunned, fixated dead ahead where the invisible obstacle had suddenly become quite the opposite.
----------------------------------------
It was a tower, a hulking thing of metal plates and dark recesses. The wall that he and Kalistra had touched curved to either side, cutting the view of the blood lake off entirely. They had moved a short distance away, back into the bone woods so they could take in the entire structure. From a distance it appeared almost squat for a tower, far too wide for its middling height. Tiered layers that reminded Mickie of a pyramid reached perhaps a tenth of the way to the stone ceiling.
‘The architecture, I’ve never seen anything like it.’
Kalistra muttered, and Mickie was inclined to agree. The basic curves and archways were downright minimalist compared to the eccentric styles of the dark city.
‘It’s kinda like the spire.’
He replied, recalling the tower’s sleek panelling and glossy surface.
‘Not the spire kid. The palace.’
Miz-Mag whispered, and Mickie realised that the little fiend was right. The palace of the ninth circle had been blockier than this, but these hulking layers of steel were reminiscent of that frozen monolith.
‘How did you do that?’
Kalistra asked. The branded man dragged his attention from monstrous body of metal.
‘I’m not sure… I just touched it, and it happened.’
Mickie did his best to recall the feeling of being so completely observed, of being outside himself and part of something larger than he was.
‘It was kinda like when I activated the elevator, only…’
He searched for the right word.
‘Different.’
Kalistra sighed.
‘Now I understand why you were irritated by my analysis of the Transcriptions.’
Mickie chuckled softly.
‘Yeah, you’re not wrong. I’ve got the same issue you had. It’s just too difficult to quantify what I felt through words.’
The gorgon nodded, turning back to the eerie pyramid.
‘Well, now we know why Ziz wanted us to head to the lake. Now that the veil is lifted, I can feel it. The place of power is within that building.’
‘Wild that the big bird even knew it was here.’
Miz-Mag commented, standing up to peer at the structure. Kalistra hummed her agreement.
‘Yes. I could not see it, but I do not yet have the entirety of Ziz’s power.’
She rubbed her hands together, and Mickie detected an undertone of excitement in the gorgon.
‘Now, shall we go discover what awaits within?’
The lowest level of the layered structure was too high to climb, and there was no entrance apparent from where the trio stood, so they began to circle the squat tower. At first Mickie thought it entirely encapsulated the blood lake. He could still hear the crimson liquid bubbling away, but now the sound was contained by a layer of dark steel. Soon enough however, the group caught sight of a familiar glimmer of red about the curve in the wall. They came upon the lake and in doing so discovered an entrance into the structure. It was as if the tower had an open wound upon its side from which the boiling blood spilled forth. A rough arch framed a shadowed interior, open like the mouth of some titanic metal whale. No paths bridged the blood that bubbled jealously across the gap in the walls. If they wanted to get in, they would need to cross the lake.
‘Well, isn’t this scenic. Nothing like fresh air to clear the head, aye kid?’
Miz-Mag’s sarcasm was emphasised by a drop of blood dribbling into Mickie’s eye. He grunted and rubbed his vision clear with his shirt. This close to the steaming lake blood was so thick in the air he could just about scoop handfuls of it free by waving his arms. Everything was coated in a layer of sticky viscera, and the heat seemed to be getting to Kalistra. The gorgon did not have the resistance Mickie did, and her serpentine hair sagged as she wiped blood from her face with a sleeve.
‘I always knew the blood lakes were unpleasant. My kind are normally resistant to the extremes of temperature.’
She eyed Miz-Mag.
‘The immutability of the mantle. It is truly astonishing that the abilities of all three primordials were weaved into your binding. How did you manage it?’
The little demon shrugged, acting nonchalant.
‘I’ve always had the abilities, Kali. Your bird buddy might have thought the Soul Lord stole them, but I’ve never met the guy. I’d imagine getting implanted with unholy power would be a thing one remembers. I know Mickie does.’
‘Do I ever.’
Mickie grumbled, eyeing the shoreline. He was hunting for some means of traversing the lake, a hidden path or stairway that would get them inside the tower.
‘How curious.’
Kalistra murmured, forgetting the heat as a thought took her.
‘And you were born about a century ago, correct?’
‘Yup. Old Miz-Mag has been aged to perfection, wise as they come, I am.’
The gorgon hummed her interest. Before she could respond however, Mickie finally noticed something that could be of use.
‘Hey, you two, do you see that?’
He pointed to a dense cluster of bone trees on the far bank. Between the trees something low and dark was just barely visible.
‘It looks like a boat.’
Kalistra hardly needed more than a moment’s examination to reach the same conclusion he had. The gorgon seemed both excited and wary at what the discover entailed.
‘A boat?’
Miz-Mag asked, shaping the word as if for the first time. Mickie gave his partner a puzzled frown.
‘You know, a boat. Floats on water, sails the seven seas.’
‘We use them to travel in the fifth circle.’
The gorgon added helpfully.
‘Ah, I see, of course.’
Mickie’s eyes narrowed at the terse response.
‘You don’t know what a boat is, do you?’
‘What? Don’t be silly, of course I do. I just forgot is all.’
Miz-Mag would not meet his eyes.
‘Wise as they come, are you?’
Kalistra hid a smile while the little fiend cursed them both. As the trio made their way around the blood lake, they collectively tried to examine the interior of the tower. With her avian eyes, Kalistra had the most success peering through the blood mist and into the arch. She reported seeing a staircase that emerged from the bubbling lake. When he had noticed the boat Mickie had assumed they would be required to use it to access the structure. Now at least, he was certain. The trio reached the tight group of bone trees after a few minutes of walking through sticky heat. Mickie took in the old vessel with a growing sense of unease.
‘Well, this is downright rustic.’
Miz-Mag commented at the sight of the dented dinghy. Their boat, if it could even be called that, was a sheet of dark metal that had been bent and warped into an oversized canoe. It was bolted together at the joints and welded closed. Honestly Mickie thought the most significant ingredient in its construction was faith, a poor choice considering where they were.
‘At least it comes with a paddle.’
He indicated a battered section of metal that more closely resembled a piece of scrap than an actual oar. Kalistra bent down to examine the sides of the vessel.
‘I can see traces of dried blood on it. Whoever built this must have successfully used it at least once.’
She straightened and glanced towards the lake.
‘I believe it will serve our purposes.’
The gorgon needed to get into that tower, and this was the only ready-made option available to them. Mickie swallowed his reluctance and assisted in dragging the boat towards the lake. At the blood’s edge the heat was downright intense. The bubbling crimson hissed at the dead earth that bordered it, angry it was contained in something so mundane as a lake.
They shoved the vessel onto the surface and squinted warily through the crimson haze to see if it would hold up for use. A long moment past in which the boat bobbed atop the lake, shuddering with the shifting blood but remain surprisingly dry.
‘Miracles do happen.’
Miz-Mag muttered. Beside them Kalistra was looking distinctly worse for wear. The gorgon could not handle the heat nearly as well as they could, and the proximity to the lake was taking its toll. Mickie waved her towards the vessel.
‘If we’re going to do this then we’d better get moving. I’ll shove us off.’
The gorgon looked as if she might object, then thought better of it. She gave him a slow nod and stepped gingerly into their makeshift vessel of dark steel, taking care to avoid touching the lake itself. Miz-Mag hopped along after her, not willing to risk a dip on Mickie’s shoulder. The branded man waited until his companions were settled before heaving against the stern of the oversized canoe. It slid the final foot or so off the bank and he pulled himself in as it came free. Mickie had not been as careful as Kalistra, and as a result planted one foot into the blood before making it in the vessel.
During his time within hell the branded man had come to rely on his temperature resistance. From navigating the white wastes to surviving a flamethrower blast from the mechanist, it had proven itself time and again. He now realised, with one foot coated in steaming blood, that it had also made him careless. Pain raked against his flesh in a cacophony of overwhelming sensation. For the first time since he had arrived in Hell, Mickie’s skin was burning.
Rather than the graceful landing in the boat that he had been planning, he flopped heavily over the side. The vessel bobbed and shook dangerously as it floated away from the shore, though he hardly noticed. For the moment all he knew was fire and pain. His flesh felt as if it were melting, dissolved by blood that was closer to acid.
‘By the nine kid, stay still, you’re going to tip us!’
Mickie hissed out breath and held himself rigid on the floor of the boat. The steel was surprisingly cool against his cheek. Idly, he wondered why the boat was not as hot as the blood upon which they floated. In doing so he realised he had the capacity for such thoughts. The pain was receeding like the ocean’s tide, ebbing gradually away.
When he finally felt human again, Mickie twisted slowly around to face the cavernous roof. He could feel the bubbling lake as a constant vibration of steel against the back of his head. If not for the lingering pain and air thick with blood it might have been pleasant.
‘That, sucked.’
He rasped out and pulled himself into a sitting position to assess the damage.
‘I’ll say. You nearly cooked the lot of us.’
Mickie gave his little partner an irritated look before shifting his attention to his bloodstained foot. To his surprise, the limb looked healthy, if a shade pinker than usual.
‘Well, that uh, that definitely looks better than it felt.’
‘Oh, it sure does now kid.’
Miz-Mag replied with a low laugh.
‘But for a while there, whoof.’
The mortal frowned in confusion, equal parts irritation and uncertainty. He glanced up at Kalistra for an explanation. The gorgon had taken up the boat’s makeshift paddle and was now expertly guiding them through the lake.
‘It was bad Mickie. Remember when I told you blood storms can flay the flesh from your very body? Well, I meant it.’
Her voice was clearer now they were moving towards the tower. Mickie figured the scare of their little vessel almost capsizing must have shaken off some of the heat induced lethargy. Kalistra glanced momentarily at his foot before dipping her paddle back in the blood.
‘I’d heard the boiling blood was strong, but for it to overcome even the resistance of Behemoth…’
She trailed off.
‘I mean, it hurt alright, but I’m not actually injured so the protection held up.’
‘Oh, trust me kid, it definitely did not. Stuff melted you like wax; I thought you were going to be useless for days afterwards.’
Miz-Mag gave his pinkish toe a pat.
‘Except you bounced right back, healed up like it was nothing.’
‘I what?’
‘Yes, it was rather curious.’
Kalistra answered.
‘For all the blood seemed to hurt you it must also have invigorated you, accelerated your regeneration. A poisoned pill, if you will.’
Suddenly, the strange tint to Mickie’s skin took on new meaning. It was the discoloration of new flesh, replaced after the blood had boiled it away. Stranger than the fact of his recovery was how little it bothered the branded man. Sure, his foot had almost been burnt off by acid, but it was hardly his worst injury. In the arena he had spent weeks getting torn to pieces and pulling himself back together.
If anything, Mickie was more worried about how little his pink new toes impacted him than the injury itself. Something about the change in his psychology felt wrong. It was like every time he was injured, something other than flesh was leaving his body. Something that did not heal as fast as the rest of him did.
The mortal cast a wary glance over the bubbling lake, looking for a distraction from pit forming in his gut. His eyes caught on the approaching archway. Kalistra had mentioned her people navigated the fifth circle on boats, and her skill with the oar reflected that. They had glided smoothly across the deadly waters while Mickie recovered, and were rapidly approaching the tower’s shadowed entrance.
This close he could see the staircase, set out at the far side of a large chamber. Mickie had expected the heat to be more intense, trapped as it was within the structure. However, there was an almost imperceptible cooling as they passed beneath the arch. Mickie noted the movements of the blood mist, streaming upwards as if it were being sucked away. He fished out their lamp with one hand and cast some light over their surroundings.
The orb was too weak to illuminate where the blood was going, instead it cast shadows over layers of balconies and walkways in a chamber almost as tall as the tower itself. It was like they had wandered into an abandoned beehive, one constructed with a logic that only made sense to the original makers. Mickie could just make out the distant ceiling, a dark impression far above their heads like the night sky glimpsed through a thick forest canopy.
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Kalistra guided them across the chamber to the stairs. Mickie volunteered to exit first, and this time made sure to avoid any contact with the surrounding blood. He held the boat secure as Miz-Mag clambered up to his shoulder and the gorgon joined him on the staircase.
‘We will have to pull this up; there is no mooring rope or place to tie it.’
His serpentine companion observed, indicating their battered vessel. Mickie grunted and glanced up the stairs.
‘At least it isn’t far.’
Standing at the blood’s edge, it certainly did not look far. Only fifteen to twenty steps. As it turned out, that became quite the distance when you were hauling a heavy metal boat. He and Kalistra were gasping by the time they dragged it the last little bit onto an open platform.
‘Finally, I could’ve got that done twice as fast if I was half your size.’
Miz-Mag spent the entire walk up the stairs berating them with its version of encouragement. If Mickie’s hands had not been full dragging the boat he might have tossed the little blighter into the blood lake. Kalistra readjusted her makeshift egg holder as she examined their surrounds. The group had reached a rather simple landing, with open halls to either side and another set of stairs dead ahead.
‘What’s the verdict? Ziz telling you where to go?’
Mickie asked.
‘Somewhat. Perhaps the veil on this place did indeed affect Ziz’s senses, because the impressions I get here are rather vague.’
She glanced down the side passages.
‘I know that we should not travel further up, however.’
That was better than nothing, they were essentially on the ground floor after all. The gorgon ended up deciding on one of the side passages at random, guiding them into a network of dark halls. They did not have to travel far. The passage wrapped about a corner before reaching another staircase, one that travelled downwards.
‘This is it. I can feel it, we are close.’
Excitement danced behind the gorgon’s words, and she started down the stairs before Mickie or Miz-Mag could object. The branded man could only hope whatever lay below was not drowned in blood as he followed behind. They moved further down than they had come upwards, far enough that the they were beneath the surface level of the boiling lake.
‘Ah, yes. This looks like a great idea.’
Miz-Mag commented dryly at the sight of the next hall. While it looked to be in good condition, the place had clearly sprung a leak somewhere. A film of red clung to every surface, and the air was a noticeable degree hotter than before. Kalistra had not hesitated though, and Mickie trotted to catch up as she strode down the passage.
The gorgon led them to an odd intersection. It appeared as if someone had punched a hole into one of the walls. The passage beyond was still made from the same dark steel, but the design seemed off, like the walls were constructed by someone imitating the larger building. Whoever had made the addition, they did not apparently have the knack for keeping their tunnels sealed. Bloody mist was thick in the air, so much so that Mickie could not see through to the end of the passage. He noted rivulets of red dripping down the walls to puddle on the floor, blood leaking in through the seams.
‘I think this is why the rest of this level was so steamy, it’s all spilling out from this one place.’
He said. Miz-Mag gave a thoughtful grunt at his observation, but Kalistra did not seem to care. She only had eyes for the leaky passage. The gorgon said nothing as she strode purposefully into the bloody mist, egg cradled in his jacket. Mickie’s hesitation was long enough that the haze swallowed her, turning his companion into a rapidly fading silhouette.
Even though he had fallen behind, the mortal did not dare rush to catch up with Kalistra. It had not been that long ago that Mickie was writhing on the bottom of their boat. The puddles of blood in the tunnel might have cooled compared with the lake, but he was not eager to try his luck. As he stepped through the mist, Mickie’s thoughts shifted to the path they had taken getting here. He attempted to map the turns and angles, guiding by a growing suspicion.
‘Hey Mag, I think we’re below the lake.’
‘What’s that?’
His little companion started, then took a moment to think.
‘By the nine kid, you’re right. It would explain why everything’s so soggy.’
Ahead Kalistra had stopped, and her features became more distinct as Mickie closed the intervening distance between them. The mist cleared as he stepped out of the passage and into a small cavern. Unlike the tunnel this space was natural, a craggy hollow in the stone beneath the seventh circle. That, however, was not the cave’s most distinct feature. What truly set it apart from the rest of the tower, was the fact that the space was absolutely overflowing with blood.
Gaps in the walls and ceiling burbled with the liquid, emitting steaming streams of red that poured into a small lake at the cavern’s base. Superheated mist rose in a viscous cloud, but did not hang in the chamber. Cracks in the ceiling seemed to vacuum up the heavy air, keeping the space relatively clear and breathable. Mickie did not get the chance to dwell on that incongruity, not with the chamber’s centrepiece demanding all his attention.
Before them a steel staircase hung above the bubbling pond, crossing it to connect with a fat stone pillar. Atop the pillar, a line of deep crimson connected the floor to the ceiling. It was a blood waterfall, except one in which the liquid flowed up instead of down. With the rhythmic thump of a heartbeat, blood pulsed up the stream and into the roof of the cavern. To Mickie, it looked as if they had stumbled upon the inside of some giant monster’s body. That crimson flow atop the stone pillar was an exposed vein, a vessel that resisted the pull of gravity.
‘Holy shit.’
Was all he could manage at the sight. Beside him Kalistra pulled the egg free from its makeshift carrier. She returned Mickie’s jacket to him and took a step forward.
‘Stay here. I think… I think what comes next will be dangerous.’
‘Well, yeah.’
He said, still dumbfounded.
‘Have you not seen this place?’
The gorgon hardly seemed to hear him, her overlarge eyes wide with intermingled fear and excitement.
‘Yes, yes, of course I have. It is where I am required to be, my binding is screaming at me to disrupt the flow.’
She nodded towards the inverted blood stream.
‘I should remain unharmed, but the same cannot be said for anyone nearby.’
Mickie was not so sure about that. He also had one of these soul bindings, and knew how painful the changes they instilled could be. Yet, they had no other choice. Kalistra had to seek out these places of power, just as Mickie had to climb the circles. Pushing back his trepidation at the death trap of a chamber, he managed to work free a modicum of support.
‘Alright. Good luck.’
She gave him a slow nod and began to walk up the stairs. Mickie took a few steps back, but did not go so far that he lost sight of the central pillar. Kalistra reached the wide protrusion, stepping upon it and approaching the pulsing blood. The gorgon raised Ziz’s egg and hesitated. For a long moment Mickie thought she might not do it, that Kalistra would risk breaking her own bond to leave the pulsing vein undisturbed. Then, in the space between rippling heartbeats, she plunged the egg into the blood.
There was a long pause in which nothing happened. Then, the chamber erupted. Mickie was almost thrown off his feet as a shuddering quake ran through the floor. The gaps that spurted blood in the walls and ceiling abruptly became geysers, spraying superheated liquid into the churning lake. Mickie gaped as the level of the blood in the room began to rapidly rise and the air became thick with burning fog. It was as if Kalistra had triggered a miniature apocalypse. She huddled atop the pillar like a leaf in a storm as the pulsing blood waterfall became a pounding torrent.
Mickie tried to take a step forward and received a splash of burning blood to the face for his efforts. The branded man cried out and stumbled back to the relative safety of the tunnel. The gorgon needed to get back to them and do so now. At the chamber’s base the small lake was reaching dangerous levels, only feet away from his position.
‘Kalistra!’
His ally was little more than an impression in the mist now, a hunched form atop the pillar. It had all gone wrong so fast, he should never let her make that accursed deal with Ziz.
‘Kid we gotta go.’
Miz-Mag cried into his ear as the blood reached the tunnel’s entrance. It spilled towards Mickie’s bare feet, and he stumbled away from the burning liquid. If he stayed any longer the rising lake would engulf him. Yet, if he left, he would be condemning his friend to face whatever awaited her alone. It took a splash of blood on his toes to finally force a decision from Mickie. With a last, desperate look to the gorgon’s impression within the thickening mist, the branded man turned on a heel and ran back the way they had come.
Behind him liquid sloshed and gurgled as blood flooded the tunnel. The seams on the wall were failing before his very eyes. Crimson pulsed from cracks like the tunnel was some wounded creature. Mickie leapt and swerved to avoid the growing puddles of steaming viscera. He was within sight of the passage’s end when he lost focus and slipped.
Miz-Mag screamed and was thrown free as Mickie tumbled forward. The branded man rolled through a viscous puddle and the left side of his body screamed in burning protest. It was not as bad as the lake above however; the blood having cooled on the tunnel’s floor. Mickie scrambled upright, scooping up Miz-Mag and stashing the little demon in a pocket. He risked a glance backward just in time to see the blood tide reach his feet. It clipped his toes as Mickie took off, nearly tripping him all over again.
The mortal and his tiny demonic partner burst out of the makeshift passage, hitting the adjacent wall and pushing off it. Mickie ran for the stairs as the blood tide sloshed out behind him. Now though, there was other directions in which the liquid could flow. It’s progress slowed and Mickie finally managed to put some distance between himself and a painful demise. It was not until he had stopped running atop the stairs that Miz-Mag finally emerged from his pocket.
‘Well, that was uh… that was a close one.’
Mickie’s leant against a wall and spent a moment catching his breath. His head thudded back against the cold steel as he closed his eyes. Just like that, Kalistra was gone, swallowed by the fury of the boiling lake. She did not have his resilience, if that blood overcame the pillar, then his ally would die. She might already be dead, for that matter. Mickie let his head sag forward again before cracking it hard against the wall.
‘What was that?’
He croaked, without looking at his demon companion.
‘Not a clue kid, I know as much about these places of power as you do.’
Mickie gave a minute shake of the head.
‘No, not the place of power, I mean what just happened. That blood almost killed us, and if the lake rises too high, it’ll get Kalistra too.’
It seemed so unreasonable to him, what had the old primordial intended by making her do that? What would happen to its precious cycle of she died?
‘Remember Ziz made a binding with her kid. If she goes down, it does too.’
‘I guess… it’s just, surely it would have warned us about the danger. What if the spell or whatever it was that kept this place invisible restricted its sight? What if the damned thing didn’t actually know how risky its plan was?’
Miz-Mag hummed thoughtfully, but did not respond. The pair stood in silence for a time, both uncertain what to do next as they listened to the gurgle of boiling blood. On the stairs behind them, the tide had finally come to an end. Mickie peered down at the steaming liquid, stopped halfway between one step and the next. He thought about the main lake and that first set of stairs.
‘I think it’s level with the lake.’
He observed, and Miz-Mag released a grunt.
‘Maybe.’
There was a pause as the little demon considered.
‘Kid, listen. The gorgon might be alive, or she might not. Either way, there’s nothing we can do for her right now.’
Miz-Mag waited for a response, but Mickie had nothing to say. He was no idiot; he knew the facts.
‘To be honest with you, I thought these ruins were going to be our way out of the floor. At least, the big bird made it seem that way. Anyway, that’s clearly not the case.’
Ziz had implied that heading to the blood lake was their best bet at escaping the seventh circle. It had also said that Mickie was the key. The memory of his brief contact with the structure flashed through the branded man’s mind. The feeling of an arm waiting to outstretch.
‘What I’m getting at is, we need to find some other way…’
‘Hold on.’
The little fiend had begun to ramble and stumbled to a stop at the sound of Mickie’s voice.
‘I don’t know what’s happening to Kalistra, but I’m not going to leave until I’ve found out.’
Miz-Mag opened its mouth to protest but Mickie cut the little demon off.
‘Plus, I think this place is still our ticket out of here. You remember the thing with the elevator, right?’
Miz-Mag hesitated for a moment, then tilted its little head.
‘Sure.’
‘Well, I think these ruins are like that.’
‘What? They ain’t even connected to the ceiling. How’s an elevator going to work?’
Oddly enough, Mickie found himself chuckling. He could not say why.
‘Just trust me on this. We need to find a control panel or something.’
The little fiend sighed.
‘I suppose taking a look can’t hurt.’
Its golden eyes surveyed their dark metal surroundings.
‘Though how you expect this pile of scrap to connect to the next circle is beyond me.’
Mickie shrugged.
‘I just got a feeling about it.’
He straightened and started down the tunnel.
‘This place still has a few secrets.’
The duo made their way back to the entrance landing, situated at the hive-like interior of the tower. Above Mickie’s head the layered web of latices and catwalks hung like the nest of a giant metal spider. They had a lot of ground to cover. Nearby their battered boat was on its side, still coated in a layer of lake blood. Mickie thought it looked more like an abandoned wreck than a functioning vessel.
His attention drifted, inevitably, to the giant body of boiling blood. It filled what would otherwise have been the bottom floor of a grand entrance chamber. Actually, now Mickie thought of it, the space did look something like a large foyer. Framed by the archway in the distance, overlooked by the catwalks above. Without all the blood he felt it would probably be impressive instead of sinister.
‘Where to kid?’
Miz-Mag pulled Mickie from his inner musings. The branded man shifted his attention to their options for conducting a search. There were the stairs leading up and into the structure, and the passage on the opposite side of the landing, a mirror to their own. If he were a control room, where would he be? There was only one way to find out. Mickie turned towards the staircase upwards, thinking it was as good of a start as any.
----------------------------------------
The desert tower was large, and as far as either the branded man or his demon partner could tell, completely empty. The longer they spent searching without turning up anything of value, the more Mickie’s frustration with the whole endeavour grew. Below them the blood lake gurgled its metallic mist ceaselessly, leaving the air heavy with the taste of iron. Whenever Mickie caught sight of it over the edge of a catwalk, he was reminded of the cave that lay beneath. Of his ally who might even now be nothing more than bones in a bubbling blood soup.
For Miz-Mag, the thought of a control room meant the potential for a path to the next circle. It was the thing Mickie had used to entice the little demon’s assistance in the search. Escaping the seventh was not the mortal’s only objective, however. If there was indeed a control room somewhere in the tower, it might be able to drain away some of the blood lake. Mickie could use it to try and get Kalistra out of that underground cavern.
‘Nothing in this one either. For a ruin out in the desert, this place sure is boring.’
A voice echoed out of a shadowed doorframe in the passage Mickie was currently searching. Miz-Mag followed the words into the light of their orb lamp, sighing dramatically.
‘Honestly kid, if we don’t find something soon, we’ll have picked this place clean.’
The little demon was not wrong. They had made their way up through level after level of dark metal corridors, stacked full of rooms that contained absolutely nothing. It had long since past the point of strange and shifted into downright uncanny. Even if the tower’s contents had rotted away, there should have been some trace left, yet the only thing loose in these halls was sand blown in from the desert.
Ahead Mickie noticed another seam in the wall and moved to examine it. This had been a recent discovery, and one of the most unnerving yet. The metal panels that made up the structure were not always perfectly flush with one another. Occasionally, there was a noticeable gap separating large sections, such as the one Mickie now examined. A thin slice of darkness cut through the floor and ran up the walls before parting the ceiling. It was like the tunnel had been bisected by a razor sharp blade.
While not overly notable in and of itself, there was more to the small seams than one might think. Something Mickie had first caught out of the corner of his eye. Slowly, the branded man held aloft his lamp and peered into the gap in the metal. For a breath there was nothing, then a whisper of movement, a minute hiss of air. Mickie strained to make out what it was, but the darkness beyond the walls resisted the light of his lamp. Straightening, he sighed.
‘Spot another one, did ya?’
Miz-Mag had wandered over as he observed the seam.
‘Yeah, still couldn’t see what it was though.’
‘I don’t get why you keep trying kid, not like seeing whatever it is will do us any good.’
The branded man ran a hand through his hair.
‘It’s just.’
He spent a moment gathering his thoughts.
‘There’s something off about all of this.’
‘I’ll say, we just watched a gorgon piss off an upside-down blood waterfall by shoving an egg into it.’
Mickie paused. When you said it that way it did sound rather absurd. He shook his head, getting back on point.
‘Not just that, I mean this place.’
He waved at the tower emphatically.
‘I felt something was off when I touched the tower before. It was almost like it wanted to… stretch out or something.’
Miz-Mag gave him a confused look but did not interrupt.
‘Then we get in here and find the blood waterfall. I don’t know about you, but to me, the way that thing was pulsing it…’
He hesitated momentarily, knowing how absurd this was going to sound.
‘It was like a heartbeat.’
This time he waited for the little demon to respond. Miz-Mag shrugged its red shoulders.
‘If you say so. I wouldn’t know.’
Mickie was taken aback.
‘What do you mean you wouldn’t know?’
The little fiend looked at him like he was an idiot.
‘Uh, because I don’t have a heart. Honestly kid, do you not know anything?’
The branded man was too astonished to be annoyed at the snark in his partner’s response.
‘No heart? That can’t be true, you’re alive, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I’m alive, as much as anyone can be down here. But I’m also a demon kid. Now, stop gaping and tell me what that blood waterfall has to do with these cracks.’
It stomped a foot on the seam for emphasis, and almost fell over as part of its foot slipped between the metal sheets. Mickie hardly noticed, still stuck upon the revelation that his partner apparently did not have a heart. He had so many questions, like, was that real or some weird metaphor? And, if it was true, did all demons somehow get by without a heart? Miz-Mag righted itself and threw Mickie an angry look, as if he was somehow at fault.
‘C’mon kid. We ain’t got all eternity, we need to finish searching the place.’
That finally broke Mickie from his astonishment. He sighed at the obtuse little demon. After the palace he had thought they were beyond vague half answers. It appeared the habit was not so easy for his partner to shake.
‘All right, but we’re revisiting this later.’
Miz-Mag rolled its eyes like an exasperated teenager, and Mickie felt a twinge of familiar irritation.
‘As I was saying.’
He muttered while tossing the demon a dirty look.
‘The blood waterfall was pulsing like some kind of heartbeat. Now we find the whole building is more or less empty, and there’s weird shit moving behind the walls. I think this tower isn’t actually a tower.’
‘What now?’
‘I mean, it’s like the place is something else, something that’s only pretending to be a tower. On examination it might seem like just a building, but things are off. All the rooms we’ve found so far are empty, and the halls aren’t physically connected.’
Mickie gestured at the dark seam in the floor. Finaly seeming to get what he was saying, Miz-Mag took a wary step away from the dark crack.
‘You make it sound like the building is alive or something.’
The fiend muttered.
‘Not alive, at least I don’t think so. Just, that it isn’t what it seems.’
Mickie had been unsure of his suspicions, but vocalising them had helped crystalised his views. If Miz-Mag’s unease was any indication, his partner also seemed to think the idea was credible. It did not change their current goal, if anything, a control panel might tell them what the function of the tower really was. Mickie started down the passage, and Miz-Mag clambered up to his shoulder instead of ranging ahead. It was a little late for the demon to get nervous about exploring, but the mortal stayed silent on the matter. They did not have much ground left to cover anyway.
The passage led to another set of stairs, which in turn opened onto one of the tower’s prominent balconies. It was not only opening Mickie and Miz-Mag had stumbled across, but it was the first at such a height. The edge of dark steel had no barrier, and from it the branded man could see the various levels of the tower slanting downwards, like the stones on a pyramid. Beyond that the bone wood stretched like a spiky carpet until it lost out to the desert dunes.
‘Hell of a view.’
Miz-Mag commented from his shoulder.
‘Hey, look, ain’t that the pillar city?’
Mickie had to squint to make out the object at which his partner pointed. From this far the city looked like a roundish smudge of brown amidst the washed-out yellow sand. Oddly enough, Mickie noted that the very same bone wood they now occupied arced across the horizon to intersect with the city. It must be the same one he and Kalistra first noticed when they accessed the drainage system. The branded man turned from the view to continue his search when a though struck him.
‘Hey Mag, you know how we made the tower visible?’
‘Sure kid.’
‘Well, won’t that mean they can see it from the city?’
Miz-Mag glanced between Mickie and the giant structure of dark steel, contrasting nicely against the lighter desert. The demon shifted to peer at the distant smudge of brown.
‘You know, I think they’ll probably notice.’
‘Which is not good news.’
‘No, it is not.’
The demon dragged out the last syllable of the word, probably feeling just as stupid as Mickie did. In retrospect, they both knew the city was not that far away, they had seen it after the lift out of Ziz’s prison. It should have been apparent that a mysteriously appearing tower might be attention grabbing. Not only that, but the fact they had just snagged Belphegor’s favourite prisoner out from under its nose should have had them on high alert. If Mickie were the old lord, and needed to find a wayward primordial, then a mysterious tower would make for a good starting point.
‘We’d better find that control room.’
Mickie muttered.
‘You know, I was just thinking that kid.’
Without further delay the duo turned back to their search. Their current floor was done, leaving only the final level for them to check. A set of stairs were shaped into the exterior wall of the building, allowing them to ascend onto the highest balcony. Mickie entered back into the tower through a simple archway and was greeted by a straight hall. It was a corridor that connected to a single, open room.
‘Well, this is promising.’
Mickie commented as they entered the space. The light from outside cast everything in a dim gloom, and the branded man took out his orb lamp to beat back the dark.
‘Yup. I’m beginning to think we should have gone with a top-down approach.’
Miz-Mag muttered, leaning forward on his shoulder to try and peer at what lay ahead. They stepped into a plain room that was almost identical to every other they had come across. The only thing that stood out was a single, unadorned slab of steel protruding from the floor like a table. It was perhaps a couple meters squared in size, and drew in the mortal and his demon like flies to honey.
‘Finally!’
The little demon on Mickie’s shoulder did a little, shuffling jig. The table might not look like much, but it was the first thing of note they had discovered whilst exploring the tower’s various levels. Mickie approached the metal protrusion, expectation churning in his chest. This might be the key to solving all their problems, getting Kalistra out of that cave and accessing the next circle. He examined the table and soon felt his excitement slipping into frustration.
‘There’s nothing here.’
As far as he could tell, the slab of steel was nothing more than it appeared. The were no runes lighting its sides, no odd protrusions or buttons. Remembering how he had awakened the tower, Mickie reached out gingerly and touched the metal surface. Nothing happened.
‘By the blood, is this some kind of joke.’
Miz-Mag was stomping angrily across the tabletop, angrily examining its surface for something, anything, that hinted at its purpose. After a few minutes of huffing about the little demon gave an exasperated scoff and jumped to the floor.
‘Accursed tower. No purpose to the damned thing other than to waste our time.’
The little demon slouched over to the room’s entrance.
‘You coming? We shouldn’t hang about, especially if Belphegor might be inbound as we speak.’
Unlike his partner, Mickie was patient. He had been going over every inch of the slab methodically, looking for a hidden switch or message.
‘Hold on, this can’t jest be a normal piece of metal. Let me finish checking over it first.’
‘We have checked it. I damned near stomped on every square inch.’
Miz-Mag huffed. When Mickie only kept doggedly at his task the little fiend rolled its eyes.
‘If you want to feel the thing up, who am I to stop you? I’m gonna go wait outside.’
With that his partner stormed out of the small room. Mickie only sighed and continued brushing the table with his fingertips. For a creature that had spent a century trapped at the bottom of hell, Miz-Mag could be surprisingly impatient. It seemed that whenever something inhibited their ability to climb, the little demon got worked up. Mickie did not get it, what did it matter if they took their time? Their binding was not dependent on speed, only the intent to keep going.
Click
The sound echoed through the silent room, snapping off Mickie’s train of thought like a dried twig. He had been on autopilot, hands sliding along the side of the slab without much active attention. So, he did not even realise he had located a hidden button until he pressed it. The branded man froze, finger still on the seamless depression in the metal.
There was a moment in which he thought nothing would happen, before the chamber groaned with the creaking of old machinery. Runes lit up on the table, glowing without any sign of being carved. A string of red symbols Mickie had no chance of deciphering. It began to blink, off and on with the cadence of an alarm. Slowly, the branded man removed his finger from the hidden button. It slotted back into the side of the table without so much as a blemish.
Mickie was wondering what he should do next when the metal atop the table began to move. It rippled like the surface of a lake, then rose up and began to twist and change like putty shaped by unseen hands. Before his eyes the dark steel began to take the shape of a broad, layered tower. With excitement Mickie realised that it was the very same structure in which he now stood. This was very promising.
The metal stopped moving once it had formed an impossibly detailed model of the squat building. Mickie circled the table, marvelling at the recreation. He could see miniaturised corridors and staircases through the balcony openings, each with rooms cast in the shadow of his lamp. It was almost perfect, which made the single standout difference impossible to miss.
When Mickie reached the main entrance, he found no trace of the blood lake. Instead, the archway led into a large space of smooth metal, except for a single spot near the stairs. An odd protrusion spiked slightly out of the table, though Mickie could not tell what it was a this scale. The whole effect reminded the branded man of his observations back at the towers base. That if the blood lake was not there, the entry would make for an impressive foyer.
As he watched a light started pulsing upon the tiny spike, lighting up the inside of the miniature tower in a red glow. Curious, Mickie leant forward. It seemed that the metal itself was the light’s source. Gingerly, he reached into the miniature archway and poked the illuminated protrusion. Seconds passed, Mickie waiting with bated breath for something to happen. When nothing did he straightened with a sigh. It could never be easy, could it?.
‘What am I missing here?’
He muttered to himself, probing the various sections of the miniature model. It remained as unyielding as one would expect a solid steel structure to be. Eventually Mickie found himself before the glowing protrusion again. There had to be something about it, a cause for the red glow. He thought back to the way the table had come to life, with red runes flashing in an alert or warning. Mickie frowned at the spike, glowing at the point where the blood lake now boiled in the actual tower. Could it be…
‘Kid! By the blood, kid! We gotta run, it’s time to go.’
Miz-Mag’s shouts drew the branded man away from the model. The little demon flew into the room like there was fire under its feet.
‘Bad news kid. Time too… what have you been up to here?’
His partner stopped short at the miniature tower now occupying the table.
‘Figuring this thing out. Now, what were you screaming about?’
‘Look at you huh, honorary sleuth and all. Shame it took you too long though, we need to go.’
‘Yeah, I heard you on the way in. I’m asking you why?’
Miz-Mag’s attention bounced from the steel slab to Mickie, eyes wide.
‘Oh right. Yeah. Belphegor’s here.’