Deep in the sands of the seventh circle squatted a rocky formation. Flat along the top with a sheer crack running down its centre, the broken plateau housed ruins of a long dead city. From the shadowed recesses of this forgotten place, a line of figures trailed out into the dunes, winding towards a blocky building. At the head of this procession walked three figures, two mortals flanking an old singer with milky white eyes.
Mickie’s thoughts were on what the Conductor had told him as they climbed out of the carved city. Of the Kindle Kin’s plan to reach their original homes on the fourth circle. At first, he had been rather annoyed that the singers withheld the information from him back in the palace. It would have been nice to have skipped the eighth circle as they had. Yet, after thinking about it for a time, he could not hold it against them. After that final fight with the Mechanist, he and Miz-Mag had been eager to leave the palace behind. Even if the Kin had offered him an alternate path, he likely would have made his own way regardless. Mickie was self-aware enough to see this and look past his irritation with the Conductor. The same could not be said for the little demon upon his shoulder.
‘Hell blighted, wrinkly old bat. Kid, you sure you can’t just give him one blast. Just one little time.’
The branded man sighed heavily at his partner’s outrage. Miz-Mag had been going on like that since the Kindle Kin’s leader had finished its story, and it was beginning to get annoying.
‘Give it a rest, would you.’
‘Give it a rest? Those wrinkly bastards made us crawl through the city. Belphegor wouldn’t be on our tail if it weren’t for them.’
The demon spat. Mickie did not get a chance to reply as his murmuring had caught the Conductor’s attention.
‘What was that, Spinner?’
‘Uh, nothing. Talking to myself.’
He cast a glance at the blind singer and did a double take. The old Kindle Kin looked worse for wear, with skin glistening and sagging under the intense cavern light. For that matter, it was not just the Conductor who was feeling the heat. Karsus was walking nearby, clothes damp with sweat and steps heavy across the sandy dunes.
‘Are you two alright?’
The old man threw an irritated look in his direction and grunted as the singer gave a low, grumbling hum.
‘The desert is not so kind to us as it is to you, Mickie. It is curious that you can resist the heat of the seventh so well.’
The branded man shrugged. It was strange seeing how someone without his powers faired.
‘Comes with the demon power package.
‘Must be nice.’
Karsus grumbled, and Mickie smirked at the old man, receiving a glare in return. To the relief of his overheated companions, they soon came upon the silent building. The Conductor and Karsus did not hesitate to head right inside, but Mickie paused at the busted entrance. He glanced back at the train of Kin and humans following in their wake. Even from a distance he could see the sway in a few steps, and glint of water against skin. Turning back to the outpost, he figured there was not nearly enough space to house the whole group. It was going to be a rough wait for those stuck outside.
The entrance to the building was caked in dried blood that flaked and cracked as he walked through the damaged doors. Within the air was heavy with the scent of death, and Mickie found his two allies standing by the still form of a guard. The Kindle Kin did not seem particularly fazed by the carnage on display, but Karsus tossed a disgruntled look his way.
‘You couldn’t have cleaned up after yourself?’
Mickie shrugged and stepped past the body, heading deeper into the outpost.
‘I was a little busy at the time. Come on, it’s over this way.’
The branded man led the duo through the small network of halls and into a large room. The hangar was just as Mickie remembered it, an open space with some supplies neatly stacked in the corner. Resting before a tall rolling door, awaited their transport back to the tower.
The idea had fallen into place like the final piece of a puzzle, coming to the branded man on his trek out of the city. He had flown most of the way to the plateau with the help of Ziz. The big bird had left him here, however, and that meant he would have to walk all the way back. Mickie was unwilling to waste that much time. The blood storm and his assisting of the Kin had taken long enough, he needed to get back and help his companions.
It was then that he had remembered the large flying device stashed in the Sovereign’s outpost. If they could fly it, then they could get a small force into the tower while the rest of the Kindle Kin followed over land. When he suggested the idea to the Conductor, he had been told that neither the Kin, nor any mortal who travelled with them, could operate such a machine. Mickie had assured the old singer that it was fine. He did, after all, know a guy.
‘Kid, I don’t know about this. It’ll seem real weird if the thing flies itself. Also, the controls are too big for me, how will I even steer it?’
Miz-Mag was unenthused with the idea to say the least.
‘I’ll help you with the controls and we’ll pretend it’s just me, I told the Conductor I could fly remember?’
He muttered, low enough that only the little demon could hear. His companion huffed and turned its back on Mickie to sit with legs kicking his shoulder blade. Taking that as a win, the branded man clambered up into the flyer and examined the space they had available. It was a large vehicle, made for hauling whatever equipment the Sovereign’s lot had needed out here. They could perhaps fit fifteen odd metal hybrids in the tray, and a little less of the normal kin amongst the seating.
‘So, this is to be our chariot of war?’
The Conductor asked, its projected voice buzzing with amusement.
‘Yep, this is our ticket to mayhem.’
Mickie agreed, resting a hand on the side of the machine.
‘We hit the tower with a small team and wreak some havoc. If we can free Kalistra and get her to help, then we might even be able to take the place.’
‘An exciting endeavour if ever there was one.’
The blind singer smiled up at him.
‘I shall pick the best to accompany us.’
Karsus started at that.
‘Wait a moment.’
The old man cut in, taking a step closer to the Conductor.
‘Us? Con, you can’t mean to go along with him.’
The old singer frowned.
‘Of course I mean to go. A Song Spinner has asked the Kin for aid, and we shall answer to the best of our ability.’
A mixture of emotions passed across the old man’s face in rapid succession. Shock, anger, frustration and finally, fear.
‘You cannot risk yourself like that. This scheme, it’s suicide. The boy’s going to get himself and whoever he takes along for the ride killed.’
Mickie made to protest, but was forestalled as the Conductor raised a hand.
‘Do you think I would send the Kin and the Spinner to die? I thought you knew me better than that, Karsus.’
The singer’s voice was calm, but firm. It did little to assuage the aged mortal’s fears, however.
‘I trust you, Con, of course I do. It’s just, you will be so far from the other Kin. Their song will not reach you.’
‘I have gone without the song before, my friend. Besides, I am certain you will lead my people to me before I even notice they are gone.’
Karsus sighed and rubbed his eyes.
‘The way the boy described it, the walk won’t be a short one. You are going to be alone in that tower for a decent while.’
The old man had a point, Mickie had seen the force the conductor could bring to bear when all the Kindle Kin were behind it. Just because he was under the pump to reach Kalistra, did not mean he should go in guns blazing and get himself killed.
‘Alright, how about this.’
Mickie spoke over the top of the arguing duo.
‘Instead of heading straight there, we all travel together for a while. Once we get close, a team heads in for an assault, while the others push ahead on foot. Try and reduce the time difference.’
Karsus and the Conductor both turned his way.
‘And what of your friend, Spinner? Will they not be at risk?’
‘Kalistra’s pretty tough, she’ll manage until we get there.’
The old singer seemed pleased with that, and reached out to give Karsus’ arm a reassuring pat.
‘See, I will not be separated for long.’
The old man still appeared to want to argue, but could tell there was no convincing the Kindle Kin leader.
‘Alright, I suppose that could work. We won’t be able to support you in person though, not with the tower being so inaccessible.’
He glanced at Mickie.
‘It’s a shame we can’t do a couple more runs in the flyer.’
The branded man frowned, then cast a glance at Miz-Mag. The little demon shook its head rapidly.
‘No way kid. You might be buds with the blind fellow, but I don’t trust these wierdos.’
Mickie held up a hand to the older duo and turned away.
‘Karsus has a point Mag. If we can get more Kin into the tower, we’ll stand a better chance at coming out alive.’
‘Yeah, well that won’t do me any good if the old boy turns me into mincemeat with its mind.’
Miz-Mag cast a suspicious look at the Conductor.
‘It won’t do that, believe it or not, the Kindle Kin are going to help us.’
‘Oh, like how they let us climb up into Belphegor’s waiting arms in the eight? All while they kicked back and took it easy?’
Mickie took a slow breath.
‘We need their help Mag, I know you don’t trust them, but that’s the truth of it. Belphegor has Kalistra, and if we don’t do everything we can to get her back, then we’ll lose her like we lost Sestus.’
The little fiend stiffened at the mention of its old friend. They had not yet had the opportunity to talk about the golden fiend’s death, and Mickie felt a little guilty bringing it up now. Sestus might not have been entirely trustworthy, but Miz-Mag had spent weeks with gemstone eyed demon while Mickie was a statue. For all that the little fiend put up a gruff exterior, being seen meant a lot to it. If they did not take all the help they could, then Miz-Mag was liable to lose another creature with whom it could talk.
‘Everything okay, Spinner?’
The Conductor queried from where it stood with Karsus. Mickie gave Miz-Mag an inquiring look.
‘Okay. Fine. Tell the blind bugger.’
His partner ground out. Mickie smiled and gave the demon a pat on the head, receiving a cry of outrage and jab in the neck for his effort.
‘All good on our end, just had to speak with someone real quick.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, about that thought of making more than one trip. I think we could make it work.’
Karsus frowned in his direction.
‘Did you just say we?’
On Mickie’s shoulder, Miz-Mag sighed.
‘Here’s hoping this doesn’t bite us in the ass, kid.’
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Kalistra hung limp in the dark. The wounds had long since closed, yet her empty eye sockets ached with phantom pain. Her head was reeling with implications, that woman’s final statement still ringing in her ears. Belphegor’s second had claimed she was Mickie’s sister, then left Kalistra to rot until further notice.
The gorgon was unsure if she could trust a word out of that mortal’s mouth. Yet, if she had spoken true, it would help explain some things. How Mickie had gotten the wreath that broke the stone bindings, for example. It might even indicate how someone was in position to drag them to safety when the tower collapsed. Someone that close to Belphegor would have a good idea of its plans.
However, Kalistra was no fool. She knew that mortal siblings were typically close in age, and that Mickie was considered relatively young. That woman, by contrast, was old. Not only that, but she had been in the ageless realm of Hell for quite some time. Therefore, if she were Mickie’s sister, then he would have had to have arrived in Hell almost a century ago.
The branded mortal had told her otherwise, and Kalistra did not think he lied. Mickie was woefully ignorant about even the simplest facts of their realm. That either meant the old woman had lied to her, or there was something stranger at play. Kalistra hoped for the later with a desperation bordering on manic.
She hoped, because if the old woman had not lied about being Mickie’s sister, then perhaps she had not lied about everything else, too. That she would free Kalistra and let her fight, or that short and strange story she had told. The tale of a gorgon named Typhlopidia, who was blind yet fought as if she had eyes in the back of her head.
Kalistra had spent hours picking apart the story, trying to find some indication of how the mysterious gorgon had achieved such a feat. She had attempted to extend her other senses, shift her power to make new eyes grow, even attempted to get a hold of a demon corpse to try use its eyes. Nothing had borne fruit. So, once more hopeless and alone, Kalistra sank into her link with Ziz. Her world of darkness gave way to one of sharp colour, and the gorgon found herself spinning and twisting through the air.
Ziz flew as gracefully as hummingbird; ducking and weaving around projectiles launched after it. A net flickered past, and the scene narrowed as the avian abruptly dove. Its laser vision homed in on the source of the attack, and Kalistra could see the fear in a demon’s eyes as if she were standing right before it. Ziz shot towards the squad of fiends at incredible speed.
The group retreated into a nearby arch in the tower, a space too narrow for the primordial to fit. Before they could get all the way inside, Ziz hit the steel balcony. The picture became a blur as the primordial’s head snaked into the passage to grab a demon. Kalistra gasped as she caught sight of a second team, waiting with weapons trained on the entrance.
She could almost feel it as they opened fire, bullets slamming into her partner as it hurriedly fled. The gorgon wished there was some way she could communicate with the bird. Ever since her eyes had been taken, it had been in a rage, striking constantly at any exposed demon. The enforcers were adjusting to Ziz however, and she feared it was only a matter of time before the primordial was caught.
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As her partner retreated to the distant ceiling, Kalistra withdrew from window into its eyes. As the darkness reembraced her, hopelessness bubbled up in a sudden frothing wave. She let lose a scream of frustration, and slammed her head hard against the steel wall. If she had new guards, they seemed not to notice or care about the outburst. All she heard in reply was the tinny echo of her own fury.
If only Ziz was here. She could use its eyes as her own and fight that way. The gorgon was out of ideas and running out of time. Mickie’s sister had said she would free her when the time came, but Kalistra had no guarantee of that. If she could not prove useful, the older woman might decide she was better off in chains.
The gorgon went slack, her bindings clinking as they pulled taught. She felt tears began to well, and tilted her head forward so they fell down her face rather than into it. The serpents on her head twisted and about, crawling along her brow and cheeks. She could feel their tongues brush against her as they sampled the air, knowing something was wrong, but not sure what it was. Kalistra was reminded of Ziz, connected to her, trying to help without knowing how. Connected to her…
Her head shot up. Of course, that was it! Ziz was not the only creature to which she was bonded. There were others, all perfectly positioned upon her head with eyes that were just begging to be used. Kalistra’s serpentine hair shared a deeper connection to her than even Ziz. The snakes had grown from her very soul, and remained connected to it like leaves to a tree. If she could bridge the gap to them, then she would have her eyesight back.
Wasting no further time, the gorgon fell inwards, sinking into the spacious depths of her soul. Within she could feel the path that led to Ziz. Kalistra reached out a mental hand and brushed it, examining its shape and construction. A product of her binding with the primordial, the connection was organic, something that had grown between them.
That did not mean she could not replicate something similar. Kalistra reached for the flickering souls of her serpents and got to work.
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The low rumble of the flyer’s engine filled Mickie’s ears as Miz-Mag pulled them up over another dune. He stood ready by the joystick, just in case the little demon lost control of the controls again. They swooped low, following the slope of the dune before levelling off to coast between sandy peaks. Miz-Mag used a foot to ease off the throttle, all the while keeping the machine steady as they came in for a landing. As metal contacted sand, Mickie released a breath he did not know he had been holding.
‘That was good. Didn’t even come close to killing us this time around.’
Miz-Mag released the joystick that was larger than it was and turned to give the branded man a grin.
‘Nothing to it but skill and finesse, kid. Hardly a challenge to a demon of my capabilities.’
Mickie chuckled and stretched the tension out of his shoulders.
‘You see the bone woods?’
‘Sure did, we must be getting close.’
The little demon hopped off the controls and scampered onto Mickie’s shoulder.
‘Time to tell the old boys we’re making our move?’
‘I think so.’
Mickie nodded and jumped down from the flyer. For the past few hours, he and Miz-Mag had been taking the bulky transport out for short hops across the desert. After each they would stop and wait for the Kindle Kin to catch back up before continuing. The flights served a double purpose of getting the machine across the desert, and giving the tiny fiend a chance to brush up on its flying. Initially, they had not travelled alone, but after the Kindle Kin experienced Miz-Mag’s flying they were inexplicably eager to stretch their legs. Mickie couldn’t blame them. The machine’s controls were far too large for his partner, and he could still taste the sand from their last shaky landing.
The duo made their way up the side of a large dune to look out over the desert. With neither the bone woods nor tower in sight, they had been following a familiar group of pillars in the distance. Miz-Mag had apparently taken note of them while Ziz spirited them away.
They had decided to keep frog hopping the flyer until they reached the bone wood, where upon the assault team would make their move. Reaching the top of the dune, Mickie could make out the expanse of spindly white in the distance, but failed to catch sight of the tower. That was good, the last thing they wanted was to be spotted early and lose the element of surprise.
Shifting away from their destination, Mickie glanced back to where the Kindle Kin were snaking between dunes in the distance. Each flight he and Miz-Mag made put them some distance ahead of the singers, so they had perhaps half an hour before the group caught up. Mickie half walked, half slid down the dune and took a seat in the shade of their vehicle.
This would be his final rest before they made their move on the tower. He had done as the reborn Ziz asked, had secured the assistance of the Kindle Kin. Now he could only hope they were not too late. A sudden pressure on his knee had Mickie opening his eyes to regard Miz-Mag. The little fiend had moved off its perch and was staring up at him with narrowed eyes.
‘What?’
He asked, and the demon gave a squeaky hum in response.
‘You seem awfully calm.’
Miz-Mag muttered.
‘Should I not be?’
‘I don’t know… maybe? It’s just, strange, I guess.’
Mickie had seen this kind of behaviour before. A kind of introspection that could only be achieved under the looming shadow of violence. He often felt it himself, the prospect of death prompting a kind of thoughtful melancholy. It was not a bad thing to see in his little partner. Better than fear, anyway.
‘What’s strange?’
‘The fact that you’re so calm. I’ve seen humans before, and most of you are like those ones in the palace. I mean, we have to go fight Belphegor again, kid. That asshole stomped us flat the last time. You and I should be grindin’ our teeth flat with worry, but you don’t even seem ruffled.’
Mickie nodded slowly.
‘Just a matter of experience, I suppose.’
‘You raided ruins in Hell before, have you?’
A trace of characteristic snark entered his partner’s voice, and Mickie chuckled.
‘Nothing so exciting. I am familiar with violence though. Was basically my whole life before I kicked the bucket. Eventually you get used to it.’
What was it is his father had once said? You either bend or you brake. Mickie could tell Miz-Mag was going to pry further and decided to change the subject.
‘What about you? You seem pretty put together.’
The little fiend smirked up at him.
‘Course I do. I’m over a century old, remember? I got experience in abundance.’
Mickie smirked back.
‘Yeah, full hundred years of running and hiding under your belt.’
Miz-Mag huffed.
‘Like you’d have been able to do any better.’
The pair fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the sand dance in the gentle cavern breeze. For a time, Mickie felt a rare sort of quiet, the kind in which his emotions were settled of their own accord. He knew it would not last, and that soon enough he would be a live wire, but that was alright. For the moment, his head was clear, and his task was set. Forget the climb, forget the brand upon his flesh. Right now, he had a friend that needed his help, and an ancient demon of sloth to pound into next week.
Eventually the silence was broken by the crunch of footsteps, and the duo rose to greet the Kindle Kin. For creatures that just had trekked across the desert, the singers looked surprisingly good. It had been a lucky break, one of the humans travelling with the Kin had stumbled across a store of strange cloaks in the outpost. Apparently, they had spent some time on the seventh before and used the clothing to resist the heat.
There were not nearly enough of the cloaks to go around, so the procession had been sharing the garments as required. Whenever a someone began to flag, they would spend some time under the resistant cloth, then pass the item off when another needed it. As the group neared, Mickie noticed a shorter Kin struggling, their stubby legs finding it difficult to move across the steep dunes. Before the little guy could fall, a hybrid came to its aid, metal arms righting the small singer. The fleshy Kin might have given a thankful hum, but Mickie found it hard to tell over the procession’s collective music. Unlike their violent battle song, or the unconventional tune they used to convince the bone tree, this music was soft and understated. Like an idle hum at an orchestral scale.
Mickie noticed the Conductor near the front of the group, walking with a hand on Karsus’ arm for guidance. The old singer did not currently have a cloak on, and as a result looked a little bit more haggard than some of the surrounding Kin. That did not stop the blind leader from perking up as Mickie approached. The understated song shifted ever so slightly when it did, the tune picking up in intensity.
‘Is that you Spinner?’
‘The one and only.’
The Conductor released Karsus’ arm and made to move forward, only to be stopped by a hand on its shoulder. The old man pulled off the cloak he wore and draped it over the old singer, saying something that Mickie could not hear. Then Karsus was turning away and heading for a nearby cluster of mortals.
‘Is something the matter?’
The Kindle Kin leader asked as it neared Mickie.
‘We spotted the bone woods on our last run.’
‘Ah, so it is time to go then.’
The Conductor hesitated briefly.
‘And how goes our unseen friend’s flying?’
Miz-Mag perked up as it was mentioned.
‘Good, we didn’t even crash land on that last flight.’
As his partner scolded him, Mickie noticed the slight easing of tension in the Conductor’s expression.
‘So Miz-Mag has mastered the controls?’
‘Damn right I have.’
The little demon said, and Mickie related a less enthusiastic response. When he had told the Conductor and Karsus about Miz-Mag, the old singer had taken the revelation in stride. In fact, Mickie felt the blind Kindle Kin had already suspected something, so readily did it accept his word. Karsus on the other hand had required a bit more convincing. The old man had said something about how Mickie was marked by the Soul Lord. Though, he went quiet swiftly once Miz-Mag provided a jab to his neck.
‘You going to call the Kin over?’
Mickie asked, anxious to get the attack underway.
‘I already have.’
The Conductor smiled and nodded towards a group of Kindle Kin that had detached from the procession. A cluster of equal parts hybrids and singers made their way towards the branded man and their blind leader. It was a small force, but the first of many if Miz-Mag could avoid crashing the flyer. The Kindle Kin arrived beside them and had a brief conversation with the Conductor. Mickie could not discern anything from the overlapping humming, although he appreciated the complexity of their speech. Even when the Kin were not trying to make music, they were melodious.
Soon the chatter died down, and Mickie was left with the Conductor as the Kin headed for the flyer. Something brushed against his arm and the branded man glanced down to find a grey hand on his jacket sleeve. A stubby Kin smiled up at him and hummed. Mickie felt the vibrations run up the singer’s arm and into him. With them came a feeling, or perhaps an intention. There was something in the small melody, not as grand as the collective song, but still deep with meaning. Mickie felt excitement and pride, but also trepidation and fear. Above it all though, there was a strain of belief that left the mortal short of breath. The feeling was so intense that it made Mickie uncomfortable, and he gently pulled his arm away.
‘Thanks for the pep talk.’
He said, and the little Kin smiled up at him. It made to leave, then hesitated for a moment. Wide eyes narrowed in a squint of concentration, and very briefly Mickie felt the air tremble around him. It warbled, warped, and fell silent. The singer let out a huff of air and staggered back. As Mickie stared in astonishment, the grey creature straightened, gave him a look that encapsulated a shrug, and moved towards the flyer.
‘Was that what I think it was…’
He muttered, glancing at the Conductor. The old leader was smiling broadly, head turned in the direction of the parting singer.
‘Indeed. Amongst any people there are standouts, those who differ through drive or happenstance. I’ve had my eye on that one for some time.’
‘And you’re okay with taking it to the tower?’
The blind singer sighed.
‘I do not take, nor direct, Mickie. My people are not bound to my whims. I put the question out, asking who would go to the tower with you, and they were the first to respond. The risk is theirs to make, just as it is yours, and just as it is mine.’
‘Right, sorry, didn’t mean to be rude or anything.’
Mickie fumbled out an apology but was waved down.
‘Nothing of the sort, Singer. Truth be told, there are times when I wish some of the foolhardier Kin would listen to what I say. Now, shall we get moving? I am eager to meet with Ziz and the one to whom it is bound.’
The Conductor said, reaching out a hand to grasp Mickie’s arm as they crossed the sand. Luckily, the blind singer did not vibrate any strange messages into his body, letting him get to the flyer in peace. As he helped the Conductor clamber into a spare seat, the branded man thought back to that feeling of belief the little Kin had projected. Had that been confidence in him, or just reassurance that they would get through this? Something in the melody had Mickie’s gut was leaning towards the former. That, more than anything, scared him.
These Kindle Kin hardly knew him, yet that small singer believed in him with a fervour he had not earned. As Mickie planted himself in the pilot’s chair, he wondered how long it would take for him to fall short of those expectations. Might not even take the day if things went south in the tower, Mickie thought, and released a dry chuckle. Miz-Mag glanced his way from where it worked the controls.
‘Something funny kid?’
‘Nah, just a thought. You ready to do this?’
The little demon huffed at him.
‘Not in the slightest.’
With a rumble the flyer’s engine came to life. Mickie shifted in his seat and sent a nod the Conductor’s way. The old Kindle Kin received his nod and raised a hand to its people. A low buzz emanated from the singers in the machine as they lifted off. It was answered by a hum from the rest of the Kin that had sand skittering off dunes. Mickie looked at them all, a sea of faces raised in the strange song of their kind. He wondered how many of them would be lost if they were successful, and how much higher that number would be if they failed. Miz-Mag flicked a couple dials with a foot and leant forward on the control stick. The flyer lurched slightly before stabilising with a burp of the engines. Their tiny pilot leant on the throttle, and the assault team shot off towards the distant bone woods.
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The group flew low over the bleached boughs, rocketing towards a blocky shape in the distance. They had come into sight of the tower not long ago, and Miz-Mag had been swift to put their plan into action. The little demon put on as much speed as it could, angling to get to the tower before Belphegor could respond. Around Mickie, the Kindle Kin were hunched in their chairs, with the steel hybrids behind them hunkered in the flyer’s tray. Wind whipped at the mortal’s face and hair, the taste of blood a promise of what was to come.
As they got closer the branded man began to see figures on the structure. Demons were grouped on the various tiers, with weapons already drawn. Mickie cursed low, it looked like their arrival had not gone as unnoticed as he might have liked.
‘They’ve seen us, go for strafe runs!’
He shouted to Miz-Mag over the roar of their flyer. The little demon said something in reply that he missed, and the transport adjusted its course minutely. Mickie turned to the Conductor and relayed the change in plan. Their initial hope had been to catch Belphegor with its pants down, and land before the enforcers could react. However, that had been a best-case scenario, and Mickie had made sure to have a fallback when things inevitably went wrong.
As the tower loomed ahead of them, the Kindle Kin shifted into their ready positions. Each of the smaller and more vulnerable singers moved to stand before a steel hybrid. Miz-Mag pulled back on the control stick and with a groan of effort the flyer tilted upwards. The attack squad raced up the tiered side of the building, and Mickie caught glimpses of wide-eyed demons as they shot past. He had no idea if they were being shot at, it was impossible to hear anything over the sound of their abrupt ascent.
Taking a slow breath, Mickie prepared himself to move. The calm he had felt before the flight was gone, now he was all energy and nerves. Miz-Mag abruptly cut the engines near the top of the tower. Like a stone cresting in the air, the flyer bobbed upwards on momentum alone, seeming to hang for an instance before gravity restored its hold. Mickie’s gut hit his throat as his partner slammed back on the throttle. Their transport roared like a wounded beast, catching them right before they fell, and rumbling forward at a level altitude. Go time.
Mickie shot out of his chair and darted to the edge of the flyer. Miz-Mag had positioned them just above one of the tiered balconies, flying low and slow. It would leave them vulnerable to fire, but with an accessible landing strip. With no time to waste, the branded man turned to the arrayed singers, gave them a nod, and jumped over the side of the transport.
For a moment Mickie felt as if he were flying. The momentum of the vehicle carried him sideways, and the wall of the tower’s next level whipped by. Then the steel floor rose to catch him, and the mortal braced himself for impact. Just before hitting the balcony, he caught a glimpse of demonic figures hurrying out of a passage ahead. He swore and landed, legs folding inwards, tucking down and in to absorb the blow. Mickie rolled along the balcony, steel battering and beating his unprotected limbs. With an oomph he slammed into the tower’s wall, coming to a dead, and rather painful, stop.
There was no time to rest and recuperate however, not if demons were coming onto the balcony. Mickie pushed himself to his feet and called forth his weapon. Sure enough, a full squadron of enforcers were already jostling into position. Mickie cast about for an escape, but found nothing. He would have to fight. Rushing down that many rifles was a grim prospect, but they were positioned next to his way inside.
In the moment before he charged something dropped like a stone from above. For an instant Mickie thought it might be one of the Kindle Kin. Except, Miz-Mag had long since flown around the square edge of the tower. Wherever the Kin landed, it would not be near him. Instead, a mass of glinting bronze feathers and muscled slammed into the distracted enforcers like a boulder. Two were knocked flat while another was sent tumbling over the balcony’s edge with a scream.
Mickie started running as the remainder of the group shouted and began to turn their weapons inwards. From within their ranks Ziz let loose a furious squawk, it elongated neck whipping out to rip the weapon from a fiend. The harried enforcers shouted at the primordial and one another as they backed away. There was a crack of gunfire and Ziz shrieked in pain before lashing out with a clawed wing. A demon was caught and dragged into the reach of the primordial’s curved beak. Its cry of alarm was swiftly cut short.
Then Mickie reached the group. The backmost enforcer he took out with a passing shot to the head, ripping its rifle free with his spare hand. Ziz had seen him and turned to face the demons on its other side. As one of the enforcers nearby tried to capitalise off the move, Mickie shoulder checked it. Unprepared and dangerously close to open air, the fiend stumbled right off the side of the tower. With Ziz’s assistance and the newfound element of surprise on his side, Mickie moved through the rest of the enforcers in moments.
Soon the balcony was quiet, and Mickie could finally hear the alarm being raised across the tower. The echoing sounds of combat began to come from all directions as his strike team started their grisly work. Mickie wished them luck, even as he thanked anyone who was listening for his own. Ziz had arrived just in time to save him from taking some heavy hits.
Now that the demons were dealt with, the big bird turned towards him. It tentatively stretched its wings as it regarded him, now doubt making sure they were not overly injured. Mickie had no clue how tough a young primordial was, but he doubted taking that many bullets had been pleasant.
‘You alright?’
He asked, and the air around them shuddered briefly before seeming to snap taught.
‘Yes. See you, help you. Go now, get Kalistra.’
‘So, she’s still here then?’
A weight lifted from Mickie’s chest at the news. He had been worried Belphegor might outright move the gorgon out of the tower, or even just kill her.
‘Here, yes. Injured.’
The branded man nodded slowly; he could handle a few injuries. Ziz seemed to take that as an end to the conversation, and towards the balcony’s edge.
‘Wait a moment.’
Mickie called, a thought occurring to him.
‘What? Must go.’
‘Yes, I know that bud, I just want to ask a favour.’
‘Quick.’
The branded man sighed.
‘Yeah okay. You know the flying machine that we arrived in?’
‘Yes. Very loud.’
‘Right. Any chance you could protect it? Miz-Mag is going to get more Kindle Kin to help, but there a ton of demons about. It could use your help.’
Ziz did not seem all that keen on the idea.
‘No, I hunt.’
Mickie paused. The smug way the bird said that made him feel like this so-called hunt was an ongoing process. Perhaps one that had been happening for some time. Suddenly, the branded man saw the groups of enforcers out on the balconies in a new light.
‘They weren’t after us at all…’
He muttered, then refocused on the big bird.
‘Ziz, you want to get Kalistra back, right?’
The avian made an affirming chirp.
‘Well then we’re going to need help getting to her.’
Ziz gave a slow nod. In the background, Mickie could hear the sounds of fighting growing louder. He needed to get moving.
‘We need more Kindle Kin. I’m not saying follow Miz-Mag when it leaves, but at least lend a hand while the flyer is here, alright?’
He made the request as earnestly as possible, holding the primordial’s eye. After a short pause, Ziz gave an exasperated huff.
‘Okay.’
Without another word, the big bird launched itself from the balcony and into the open air. Wind buffeted Mickie, but he was already turning towards the tower’s entrance. Whether or not Ziz would lend hand was debatable, but hopefully now his partner would have an easier time of it. Stepping into the structure’s dark shadow, Mickie called forth his weapon. He could hear footsteps and voices echoing down the dark hall, coming closer with each moment. Mickie took a slow, steadying breath, and expanded the hollow in his chest. His hopes and fear were pushed aside, replaced by cool clarity. It was time to get to work.