The timetable had just slid forward for Mickie. He had not expected the Kindle Kin to approach the upper floors so rapidly. They might be slow movers, but the robot hybrids were tireless in their inexorable ascent. It was hard to judge how much longer he had until they arrived, though he was certain he would know when they did. The song of war had been getting louder as he stood, dumbstruck, with Miz-Mag. Even with the strange creatures so distant, the sounds they made already permeated the very walls of the upper palace. Just how intense would the music be when they arrived? Mickie glanced to the recently ruined silencing machine. Was this song the reason for these bulky devices? If so, it seemed like a lot of effort just to block out some music. He must be missing something.
‘Kid we don’t have time to dawdle.’
Miz-Mag had shaken free of its stupor and was now pinching Mickie’s ear to get his attention. Shaking his head to dislodge the demon and his distraction both, Mickie turned to what remained of the weapon supplies. While the gas had not damaged the supplies, the subsequent explosions certainly had. There were cartridges of ammunition strewn amongst spare firearms of a strange make. The spherical grenades were even now still rolling about the room, having made it to all corners of the space. With little time to spare Mickie scooped up a couple of the death balls before making for the exit.
‘It’s strange, I thought the Kindle Kin were all pretty docile, outside of the freaky guards anyway.’
He threw a glance at the stairs as they left.
‘Guess I was wrong.’
On his shoulder the tiny demon gave a dark chuckle.
‘I’ll say kid. Been wandering these halls for a century, and I never saw one of those grey goobers even cast an angry look before now.’
The duo reached a mess of gas canisters, spread about the hall after Mickie had tossed their crate out of the toxic fumes. The original idea behind the move had been to get some weapons out of the gas. However, the failsafe triggered by the imps had made the stairwell accessible once more, even if it had been too late to help the red demons. He took the opportunity to gather some canisters back into the crate. Several cylindrical death tubes soon sat by the pair of grenades he had scooped up. Mickie did not fill the box to the lid, he needed to move fast with this cargo. The Kindle Kin’s song was steadily rising, the call of a leviathan whale as it arose from the deep. The sound of it was infecting Mickie, driving him to run, to fight. With the very ground vibrating in fury, the pair set of for the next blockade.
Miz-Mag appeared to be feeling the effects of the music alongside him. As they ran the demon was uncharacteristically silent, speaking only to give directions and keeping its eyes locked ahead. The duo weaved through another tunnel, no longer attempting to remain discreet. All the attention would be on the encroaching metal hybrids, speed was most vital to them now. Racing up a service passage, Mickie knew they were getting close when the omnipresent war song became muffled. It faded to silence alongside the sounds of the world. The final thing Mickie heard was Miz-Mag shouting a reminder directly into his ear. Two-six-three, the number of the door they were targeting. The next blockade.
They arrived before the nondescript location. The corridor was empty of life and blanketed in enforced silence. This blockade was most likely a Mechanist tunnel if it resided in one of the service warehouses. There might be more demons present to handle the larger entry point. Mickie placed his explosive cargo to one side and removed two of the smoke grenades. He flicked out their pins and pushed through the door to the room. It certainly was a Mechanist tunnel, the loading bay cordoned off with huge weapon emplacements. The crates had been removed from the storage area, making space for a bulky machine pulsing with dark runes. At the rear of the formation Mickie noted another pair of the brown mind demons. This time they had not noticed him, eyes glued to the dark of the tunnel as they awaited the metal monsters.
As he lobbed the two gas grenades towards the throng of fiends, something caught Mickie in the side. He was sent rolling along the floor from the force of it, coming to a stop deeper in the warehouse beside the ominous machine. Looking up he noted an imp standing with one of the strange firearms. The tip smoked as the creature screamed into the silence. It stood next to the ammunition stores, hidden slightly by the open door. How in the nine circles had Mickie missed the thing? Checking doors and corners was usually a habit for him. As the imp raised its weapon once more a small figure clambered onto is shoulder. While Mickie might not have noticed the enemy, that did not mean Miz-Mag hadn’t. Before the gun could be fired again, his companion stabbed into the imp’s eye with its needle claws. The gunslinger screamed in agony and stumbled back into the crates it was guarding. The contents of the boxes were scattered about as it writhed.
Mickie rose back to his feet with the feeling of sticky warmth running down his stomach. Before he could check the wound Miz-Mag caught his attention. It was waving and pointing frantically towards the tunnel entrance. A number of demonic faces were coughing and squinting at him as smoke crept upwards amongst their number. Panic set into the guards, some raising their weapons towards him. Mickie cursed soundlessly and dove behind the bulky metal construct as the shooting started. A rain of heat blasted about him, the imps hitting their own device instead of the human huddled behind it. Pinned in place, Mickie could only hope that the smoke did enough work on the demons to give him a chance of slipping away.
A glance towards Miz-Mag had him performing a double take. Somehow his companion had killed the imp, leaving a bloody ruin of its face. Now the tiny demon was hefting a grenade from the ammo pile. It spun in place, building momentum before hammer throwing the explosive at the enemy demons. The pin was pulled free as the grenade soared into the air, bouncing, and rolling just short of the blockade. Mickie hunkered down as Miz-Mag bolted for the door of the warehouse, ducking outside and to safety. There was a concussive wave and the shots at his position stopped abruptly. Glancing around the ragged machinery Mickie found the guard force falling into hysteria. The gas had almost entirely enveloped them, and the grenade shattered whatever ordered attempts of escape they had cobbled together.
Taking the opportunity presented to him, Mickie called forth his gun and jammed it into the ragged silencing machine. One shot was all it took after the repeated demon abuse. Something vital in the device broke and sound came crashing back about him like a thunderclap. Screaming imps, a keening moan that appeared to come from the mind demons. And the song. It was louder than ever before, vibrating Mickie’s bones to a rhythm of fury. He rose with the call, turning from the chaos and breaking for the door. No demons fired upon him as he ducked back into the hall.
----------------------------------------
The duo covered some distance before Mickie ducked into an empty room. His shirt and the bottom of his pants were becoming soaked with red. Pressure on the gunshot had kept him going for a time, but the wound needed tending before it closed around the shrapnel. The space they found themselves in was little more than oversized storage cupboard, picked by Miz-Mag as a likely quiet spot. Mickie leant against the closed door and turned to his companion, speaking loudly to be heard over the war song.
‘I need you to pull the bullet out.’
The demon’s golden eyes crinkled in disgust.
‘Truly? Must I go digging through your flesh.’
Mickie almost rolled his eyes, but the feeling of blood oozing between his fingers kept him serious.
‘Quickly. Before it heals over.’
Receiving a reluctant nod from the tiny fiend he slumped against the door, lying almost flat to ensure easy access. What followed was a painful minute of gritted teeth, as Mickie endured his companion’s tender ministrations. Once Miz-Mag declared him clean they waited a while longer, keeping pressure on the wound until the bleeding had stopped.
‘Alright kid. You’ve had your rest. Time to move.’
Mickie gave the squeaky upstart and deadpan glare.
‘If I stand up right now, the wound will rupture. Give me another five then we can go. If I bleed all over the floor it will be a bit conspicuous, don’t you think?’
Miz-Mag’s grumbled response was lost in the surrounding noise. As the pair sat and waited, Mickie wondered if the Kindle Kin had reached this level yet. They had not been far away at the first staircase. The song had been growing progressively louder, and eventually Mickie could not withstand its urging for violence. He stood slowly to test the gradually healing bullet hole. While the wound both hurt and was still open, it no longer bled freely. That would have to be good enough, they really could not afford to waste any more time.
The duo slipped out of the room and were running towards the next blockade when they met resistance in the halls. A platoon of imps equipped with bulky guns and supported by a single mind demon. Mickie came near face to face with them as he rounded an intersection. There was a moment of startled observation in which the two sides stared one another down. Then one of the imps regained its senses.
‘Mortal. You were commanded to confinement. Why are you in the halls?’
Another imp was peering at him with a frown.
‘Wait. Bilsen. That one looks familiar, look at the blood on it. Remember the report from Barrier C-3?’
Mickie did not wait for their conversation to finish, he removed his hand from inside the crate and tossed one of the two explosive grenades at the squad. It had been gently cooked in the moments prior and was ready to burn. He hardly had time to duck back around the corner before the blast ripped through the hall. The squadron was given no respite as he followed up with a cylinder of toxic gas.
‘Alright. That corridor’s out. We’ll have to go around.’
Miz-Mag nodded sagely.
‘That it is dear boy. Lucky for you, I am encyclopaedic on the topic of guidance.’
His companion waved down the corridor and the pair set of once more, music in their ears and wailing demons in their wake.
‘At least we know the plan is working. If we are already stumbling into reserve forces they must be starting to panic in the centre.’
‘Perhaps. I’m just hoping we can do enough damage they don’t notice us slipping past.’
That was the goal. During his interrogation of the imp, Mickie had discovered that the Palace Lord had a reserve force on standby at the centre of the blockades. In other words, right by the stairs to the eighth floor. Mickie had already intended on causing some chaos as a distraction, though this information expanded his plan. The idea was simple. They would take down as many of the blockades as possible before the Kindle Kin arrived. Then the subsequent pandemonium would hopefully draw away the demons from the stairs to the eighth circle. If the conflict got bad enough, they might very well be able to sneak up the stairs unnoticed. It was certainly not a safe plan, nor entirely reliable. There was also a significant risk of human workers getting caught in the crossfire of waring demons. Yet Mickie found it hard to care. Those with drive to survive would make it. He struggled to picture Aria bumbling into an active battle instead of hunkering down. No, the people who got caught up would be those foolish enough not to flee.
The song of the Kindle Kin grew silent once more as the duo neared the next blockade. Mickie had not realised how loud the thumping rhythm had gotten until it left his ears. The steel creatures could not be far away now. Reaching the next choke point they found a spiralling staircase close to an intersection of passageways. It stopped at a landing on their floor before continuing upwards to another level. Except it only made it about halfway to the ceiling above. The demons had removed the stairs from the central support pillar, making ascension beyond their barricade impossible. Mounted steel barriers encircled the stairwell, turrets pointed downwards and awaiting the Kindle Kin’s arrival.
Mickie did provide an opportunity for the demons to notice him. He tossed his remaining grenade towards the encirclement alongside a gas canister. Before either had a chance to detonate they were followed by two more death cans. Even with the speed of his approach however, it appeared the demon’s had been informed he might attack. They turned upon him at some silent signal, weapons raised to poke him full of holes. With wide eyes Mickie ducked back around the intersection as bullets whizzed by in silence. The gifts he had supplied the angry guard force revealed themselves with a demonstration of explosive force and toxic fumes. As the suppressing fire stuttered in response Mickie dared a peek about the corner. The explosive had done some work, but it appeared the demons had prepared a counter for his gas grenades. An imp ran by the passage entrance, toxic canister in hand. The creature reached the spiralling stairwell and dropped his demon killer into it. What remained of the fumes were quickly drawn upwards towards an air system. It appeared they had already triggered the failsafe for the gas cannisters.
The return of the bullet rain forced Mickie back behind cover. This blockade was a bust, he turned to leave when an idea struck him. If Miz-Mag snuck up the hall it could probably cause a distraction, maybe take out the silencing machine. He attempted to mime the plan to his diminutive companion. It took a few attempts for the message to get across, and when it did the demon did not look keen. Apparently sneaking up a corridor full of active fire was not an idea it considered exciting. Mickie contemplated just flinging the little guy up the hall anyway, it’s not like the imps could see him. If he aimed correctly, the likelihood of Miz-Mag getting shot was negligible.
Apparently, the fiend sensed his thoughts because it leapt off his shoulder and gave him a dirty look. Miz-Mag scurried over to the passage intersection and glanced up the length of the tunnel. Mickie wondered if it was actually going to run the gauntlet, but found his attention shifting as he failed to note any gunfire. There were no blurred distortions in the air. No spontaneous dents in the walls as bullets ricochet off them. Cautiously he joined the diminutive demon in peeking around the corner.
The staircase stood at the end of the hall, same as it had before. Smoke billowed up from bellow, a toxic cloud that obscured the depths. And in that cloud he saw it. A looming giant, rising into the room with methodical movements. From the fog it emerged, gunfire pining of a body of dark steel, the fleshy core guarded by broad arms. Mickie caught a glimpse of an eye within the mound of moving metal. Large, bloodshot from the toxic fumes, and briming with rage. The Kindle Kin stomped through the weaker gunfire like it was an afternoon rain. All about the creature demons back away in fear, desperate to stay clear of its visceral claws. He saw one of the brown demons raise a hand at the giant, mouth agape in a silent cry. Perhaps trying to strike at the living mind of the hybrid. Whatever it attempted was not enough. The Kindle Kin staggered slightly, then a claw descended upon the creature. The fiend was eviscerated, like a fly that had been swatted, it crumpled to the floor, dead.
Another metal monster emerged from the fog as the first disappeared from sight. It too was met with a rain of bullets, and unlike the first it did not protect its core adequately. The behemoth staggered as speeding shrapnel tore into flesh, lashing out and catching a pair of imps. The demons were dead before they hit the ground, though the Kindle Kin was also waning. Before it fell the creature tore into the scattered defensive forces, shredding them like paper. The huge body took another few shots from the surrounding imps. It staggered and fell, crushing an enemy even as the life left its metal limbs.
As yet another hybrid emerged from the stairs sound returned like a crashing tsunami. The first metal hybrid had successfully destroyed the silencing machine. The return of sound did not bring with it the clamour of nearby combat. It did not bring the screams of demons or the crack of gunfire. All it brought, was the song. The weight of it was a physical force on Mickie. Like adrenaline behind the eyes, or a thunderstrike to the soul. He felt the fury. He was the fury. The demons had tried to contain him, to destroy him. Oh no. He would show them. They would fall. Foolish creatures. So much fuel into the flames they had started a fire they could no longer control.
Something jabbed into Mickie’s nose, a sharp object that made him reel backwards in pained discomfort. The shock of the blow seemed to lift a haze from his mind, and he found himself in the hall approaching the stairs. Dead ahead was a metal giant, back to him as it trapped the imps in their own blockade. Bullets flittered by as Mickie stood, dumfounded and in the open but for the hybrid’s body. Miz-Mag retracted its clawed hand from his nose, a panicked look on the demon’s face. He swiftly stumbled back out of the hall and to the safety of the intersection.
The song still pounded at his soul, urging him to fight, to move, to slay. Yet he was removed from it now. Standing in the water as it rushed about him, rather than diving into the flow. Now he understood why the imps had installed the silencing machines. The song was more than just sound. It was some kind of weapon, a force that drove allies to fight and enemies to break. He had seen the panic on the imps faces as they attempted to slip by the wall of metal guarding the passage. The demons in that room were dead the moment they had cracked under the song. Without coordinated fire, they would never escape.
‘You seeing sense again, kid?’
Miz-Mag had to shout to be heard over the pounding song. Mickie gave his companion a nod before standing straight.
‘You think this is enough chaos?’
The demon looked at the butchery occurring in the staircase.
‘I’d say so. To the centre then?’
‘To the centre.’
He agreed and the pair set off into the maze of passages once more. Mickie only had a couple of gas grenades remaining and he carried them separately rather than in the crate. As he ran the war song was a constant drumming against his soul. Its volume of such that the demon on his shoulder resorted to pointing and poking to provide directions. The duo exited the service corridor into an opulent hall. They rounded a bend before coming up short at a charnel pit of chaotic destruction. A platoon of imps was hemmed in by four metal giants, being shredded as they wailed and pushed at one another. The creatures were not even fight back, just scrambling about a desperate bid to survive. Ostentatious walls were painted with viscera, demons slipping in the blood of their comrades as they stumbled away. It was a scene reeking of iron and fear.
Mickie had seen some rough stuff, both alive and in Hell, but the display before him was enough to make him taste bile. Miz-Mag had indicated their way forward was through the massacre, but neither of them wanted to get any closer. Instead, the pair turned about and chose another direction, aiming to wrap around the conflict. They crashed through doors and cut around corners, sticking to the larger hallways for the sake of speed. Rounding another bend, Mickie almost had his head taken off by thudding gunfire. He rolled to the side at the sight of blockade in their intended tunnel. Coming up beside the blocked passage he swore into the rumbling war song.
‘Mag, is there another way around?’
He was forced to shout right at the tiny demon to be heard.
‘Yeah. But we’ll need to wrap around the centre. It’ll add some time.’
That was not ideal. If the imps somehow managed to reestablish control they would begin actively hunting him. He needed to get to the main staircase before that could happen. Looking down at the remaining two gas grenades he carried, Mickie figured it was worth a shot. Arming the two he lobbed them at a wall within the tunnel, hoping the blind throw would catch the demons. It was hard to make out, but for a moment he might have heard shouting. Then one of the heavy guns started methodically sweeping the hall, swiftly shooting from one wall to the other. It looks like he had not caught the blockade with the gas, instead having fallen short. The resulting cloud must have blocked the tunnel and as a result the demons were sweeping the space with blind fire. Something he doubted they could keep up forever, though he had no idea how long it would take them to run out of ammo. If it was long enough for the fumes to clear he would have zero chance of rushing the entrenched force.
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It looked like the duo would need to take the long way around. Mickie wanted to scream in irritation at the delay. They were so close, just a bit more and he could be free of this accursed palace. Gritting his teeth, Mickie ran into the labyrinth once more.
----------------------------------------
It did not take long for the duo to figure out that they were trapped. Every turn led to a bloody conflict or a demon blockade. It looked like the palace rulers were slowly taking back control of the region, encircling, and driving back the Kindle Kin hybrids.
‘We need a way out. You got a tunnel or something?’
Mickie still had to shout over the pounding war song.
‘Yeah, I got something. We’ll be losing time though.’
The tiny demon had been growing increasingly agitated as their options narrowed.
‘At this point it’s that or nothing.’
Miz-Mag reluctantly agreed and soon Mickie was stepping into a series of bunk rooms. Closer to barracks than dormitories, these spaces were clearly made to house human slaves. No one was present amongst the stacks of beds currently however, clearly having fled the nearby fighting. The entrance to the hidden passageway required him to shift one of the beds. A small square of wall behind it fell away when he pushed it, revealing the cramped darkness beyond. With time being such a crucial commodity, Mickie did not bother to reseal the narrow hole. They ran through the tunnels in an unseeing shuffle, bouncing off walls and stumbling along inclines. The exit was luckily at the end of a long tunnel, making it difficult to miss. Unable to see the approaching dead end, Mickie ran right into a hard wall and bounced back onto his ass.
‘Ow’
Through the song he could faintly make out Miz-Mag’s snickering laughter. Resisting the urge to swat the demon from its perch, he set about finding the exit switch. This one was a large and obvious button protruding from the wall. Not exactly subtle but at least it saved him time. The floor in front of them swung downwards, revealing the top of a crate. Mickie dropped into a storage warehouse linked to the Mechanist’s lair. The large tunnel entrance was a mess of junk and debris, piled high to form a plug. It was honestly quite impressive, and certainly not something the Kindle Kin would be shifting any time soon.
Signs of movement amongst the crates drew his attention. Humans were huddles amongst the rows of boxes, silent clumps of people weathering the battle together. An older looking man appeared to have noticed him, waving at Mickie to come down. He wave back, easily climbing down the stack of boxes to stand before the old slave.
‘The hell are you doing coming in this late boy? You want to get your ass torn to shreds?’
The song was somewhat fainter this far from the fighting, though it still reverberated through the warehouse. Yet somehow whip crack of the old man’s voice cut through the noise with contemptuous ease.
‘Coming in late?’
Scanning the rows, Mickie discovered more people than even the bunk room could have contained. They must think he was insane for staying near the fighting.
‘Oh right. Well, I’ve been causing a bit of chaos. Stirring the pot as it were.’
The old man gave him a hard look.
‘Nothing that comes back down on our heads I hope.’
Mickie chuckled.
‘No sir. I believe the imps are a touch too preoccupied currently to track me down.’
‘That they are I suppose.’
There was a brief silence between them before Mickie cleared his throat.
‘Anyway. I better be off. Things to do and all that.’
He turned to leave.
‘Wait a moment. You’re really going back out there?’
‘Sure am.’
The old man took a moment to consider. Right before he spoke, Mickie noticed something shift in his eyes. A flash of anger.
‘You mentioned stirring the pot. What did you mean by that?’
Mickie gave the man an assessing look. Considering if it was worth the time expenditure to tell him of the chaos they had caused. This fellow was not like meek group from the kitchen, his eyes had a calculating glint and met Mickie’s own evenly, like Aria had.
‘You looking to start a fire yourself old boy?’
The man grunted.
‘Might do. Won’t kill any of these people in some hair brained scheme though.’
‘That’s a shame. You felt those patches of quiet the imps have up?’
He got a nod in response and Mickie proceeded to explain about the choke points and the plan to open them up. The old man’s eyebrows slowly rose during the tale, leaving him almost comically wide eyed. It took a few moments for the man to gather his thoughts when Mickie was done. When he did speak, it was only after looking over Mickie’s bloody clothes.
‘While that sounds effective as far as kicking the hornets’ nest goes. I’d say it’s not the most secure way of getting those metal monsters up here.’
‘How so?’
The man turned toward the mountain of trashing plugging the tunnel.
‘You know. Some of the early arrivals here said they heard movement on the other side of that blockade. Before this damned music got too loud to make much of anything out.’
Mickie gave the barrier a contemplative look. When it was just him and Miz-Mag they had dismissed the idea. Looking around the room full of people however, he realised if they all got involved, it just might work. Though, while he was personally sympathetic towards the Kindle Kin, Mickie could admit the metal hybrids were not endearing themselves to the upper levels. He struggled to understand why this old man would provide any assistance to them.
‘I suppose you could dig out the tunnel there. But I’m surprised you’re willing to help the Kindle Kin. They’re not exactly projecting a good image right now.’
The old man laughed.
‘Boy, I was here when they built the palace. I can remember hauling in people I knew from out on the ice. All turned into metal for this forsaken place’s construction.’
That brought Mickie up short. Not only had this man seen the source of the dark steel, he had been forced to haul it back personally. And he had apparently helped build the palace? How old was he?
‘Who are you, old man?’
The humour faded from the wrinkled face.
‘Someone unfortunate enough to survive here longer than anyone should have to.’
He let lose a weary sigh.
‘Anyway, the point I was making was that I was here when they slipped the collar about the grey singers. I know what they’re normally like. They won’t hurt anyone in this warehouse.’
This man was older than stone. Perhaps he could even answer some of Mickie’s burning questions. Questions about the brand marring his hand, and the identity of the Soul Lord. Why he had arrived at the bottom of Hell instead of at its gates. However, he was short on time and was not sure he could trust the cunning fox. If this group of people was willing to let lose another wave of metal giants, he wouldn’t stop them. Mickie would need all the chaos he could get to sneak onto the eighth circle. In the end, all he could give the old man was a shrug.
‘If you want to set the dogs loose, be my guest. I’ve got to run though. It’s been interesting talking to you, old man.’
He turned to leave, and a voice called out from behind.
‘Before you go. You mentioned pockets of silence.’
Mickie glanced over his shoulder, looking past Miz-Mag to the ancient human.
‘Yeah, what about it?’
‘Got some reports of one nearby. Bit of an anomaly, not grouped with any others.’
He shrugged haggard shoulders.
‘Just thought you might be interested.’
Miz-Mag turned to him, and they exchanged a look. There should not be any choke points set up in this area. Every entryway was supposed to be completely sealed to funnel the Kindle Kin away from the centre. What were the imps silencing then if not a staircase?
‘Yeah. That is interesting.’
Mickie turned back to the door leading out of the warehouse.
‘Thanks.’
The old man left it at that, and the duo made for the exit, feeling the eyes of the room’s occupants follow them. It made Mickie’s neck itch to be so scrutinised, and he was glad to finally be out of the warehouse. When they were moving once more, Miz-Mag spoke up for the first time since they had exited the secret passage.
‘Welp. That fellow was something. It’s rare you mortals stick around for as long as he has.’
Mickie nodded his agreement.
‘Yeah, crazy to think a human could be that old. Not sure I really trust him though. Why do you think he told us about the silent spot?’
The demon hummed thoughtfully, the sound almost inaudible over the ongoing music.
‘Nobody lives that long down here and stays clean. The oldies are always dangerous. They’re the ones who’ve played the game and, if not won, at the very least learnt all the rules.’
‘So, we ignore the tip then? If he’s pointing us at something, there must be a reason.’
The pair travelled in silence as Miz-Mag mulled it over.
‘Normally I would say no to checking it out.’
The was a hesitant pause before the demon continued.
‘But I’m honestly not sure we’ve done enough. The imps are regaining control, we need more chaos. If the Palace Lord has something other than a choke point under lock and key, I’d say it’s at least worth taking a look.’
Mickie sighed.
‘Well, we didn’t get any directions. So, I suppose if we run into it, we can take a…’
He paused, notice that his voice had suddenly dropped in volume. Apparently, the old man had not been exaggerating when he said the silent spot was nearby.
----------------------------------------
It took the duo some experimental investigating to locate the source of the silencing field. They eventual came upon a service hall, near identical to any other, distinct only in that the numbers above the doors were absent. The passage ahead ended in a broad set of doors, guarded by what was possibly the largest blockade of demons Mickie had seen so far. Rows of heavy weapons glared back at Mickie as he peeked into the passage. Imps stood in neat ranks, weapons slung and ready to blast any approaching intruder. After catching little more than a glimpse of the small army, Mickie swiftly pulled his head out of the passage. He was unsure if the demons had spotted him, the lack of gunfire seemed to indicate he had gone unnoticed.
While he huddled behind cover, Miz-Mag continued to stand out in the open, observing the forces in their path. Mickie felt the impact of the sound dampener acutely, if they could talk the tiny fiend could give him a breakdown of the defences. However, in the silence all he got from his companion was a shake of the head. Looked like this was a no go. Unfortunate, but from what Mickie had seen of the defences it was too risky to try and break through. Whatever the palace demons had behind those doors, it certainly was not a staircase. This was the first pre-planned blockade they had found with defences focussed outward, preventing entry to a room rather than their current level.
He supposed it did not matter much either way, it was not like they were going to get past all those demons. Miz-Mag clambered back onto his shoulder and patted it consolingly. As they moved away Mickie wondered what the point had been behind the old man informing them of this place. The ancient human must have known the spot was so heavily guarded. Did he somehow expect them to get past gunfire from multiple heavy weapons? Mickie doubted it.
The duo reached an intersection and Mickie paused, waiting for the usual tap or point to indicate direction. Miz-Mag seemed distracted, however. The fiend was staring into space with furrowed brows. He jostled his shoulder to snap the blighter out of it, getting an angry glare for his efforts. There was a tweak of pain from his ear as the demon pinched it. Then Miz-Mag pointed back the way they had come. Mickie raised his eyebrows at the directions and his companion rolled its eye before pointing again. Feeling like a horse that had just been spurred, he spun around, heading towards the guarded hall once more.
Huddled just out of sight of the demons, Mickie stared uncomprehendingly as Miz-Mag attempted to mime some kind of plan. His dead-eyed look must have registered because the demon threw up its tiny fists in exasperation and slid off his shoulder. It pointed to him, then pointed to ground on which he sat. Then Miz-Mag pointed to itself and to the end of the passage. Mickie showed he understood that message with a roll of his eyes. The little rat applauded like a parent watching a child fit Legos together for the first time. He immediately reacted by flicking a hand at the condescending hell spawn, but Miz-Mag dodged out of the way and into the blockaded hall. So, Mickie settled for sending his companion off with a rude gesture instead.
The wait was slowly driving Mickie mad. After so much time running and moving, simply hiding felt wrong. He had no idea what Miz-Mag intended by heading into the encampment alone. Though whatever it was the demon was taking its sweet time. Initially he had assumed the task was some scouting. Though as seconds merged into minutes and his agitation grew, it became increasingly clear that was not the case. When the realisation came, it was with a subtle change. Mickie began to hear a distant thudding sound, a familiar song, faint but growing louder by the moment. It looked like Miz Mag had gotten through the door, and was now sabotaging the sound dampener. Volume returned with increasing intensity, eventually crashing back around him with the force of a storm. The war song thrummed through his veins, and Mickie found himself almost swept up by it again. Knowing he needed his senses, he instead twisted an ear lobe sharply, using the pain to bring focus.
If Mickie had noticed the return of sound, then the imps certainly had as well. He could here panicked shouting over the thrumming music, calls of confusion. Then a tiny red figure was ducking back around the corner, panting in exertion. Miz-Mag clambered back up his arm to collapse on his shoulder.
‘Got them good.’
The demon panted.
‘Managed to get inside the dampener and wreck it, took some work though.’
Mickie’s curiosity burned.
‘So, what were they guarding then?’
Miz-Mag slowly got control of its raged breathing.
‘Some kind of pod thing. Like a cylinder standing upright. Almost looked like something you could stick a person into, just was too small for most mortals.’
Unsure, he considered the possibilities.
‘Some kind of demon maybe?’
‘Not sure. Either way kid, the lack of a dampener should give us a decent distraction. Let’s get a move on before some imps come by to check it out.’
The demon patted his neck, ready to leave. Mickie did not move though. He sat with narrowed eyes, glaring towards the blockaded path as imps continued to shriek. Some kind of pod huh. What would the demons want to keep located away so tightly. What kind of chaos could he bring about if it got free.
‘Oh no kid. Don’t you think about it. We need to move.’
He ignored the tiny creature. The demons would be distracted right now, not looking towards the tunnel. The distance was not far. He could make it.
‘Don’t kid. Look I checked the prison thing. It’s sealed up tight as. No way to crack it open easily.’
Miz-Mag’s tone had gotten pleading. Mickie could feel it though. A call. Through the song he felt a need. A desire to move and fight, a desire to reach whatever, or whoever, awaited within that room. Something floated up through his recent memories. A title heard in passing that was drawn forth by something beyond him, something just inside that room. The Conductor. It was something Rainzell, the Palace lord, had asked about. Mickie knew he couldn’t let this chance go, the world itself sung for him not to walk away. Its tune was somehow different to moments before, a subtle shift. One that rang hollow. An emptiness to the tune that stirred his blood. The song echoed and Miz-Mag wailed as Mickie stood stood, stepping out into the passage.
He was more than halfway to the blockade when the first demon noticed him, turning away from the open double doors to stare with wide eyes. It raised its weapon as Mickie raised his own. From this range nothing but the leopard would fatally would his target. As he raised his weapon it was unfortunately the wolf that waited in the topmost position. Then, as if it had heard his plea, the barrel spun. Not the slow thunk of a reload, but a rapid twirl that ended with the leopard slotting into place on top. Mickie did not delay to consider the change, firing immediately at the demon as a bullet zipped past him. The condensed shot took the creature in the side, sending it spinning into its fellows and knocking them in a heap.
By now other imps had caught on and more weapons were raised in his direction while other demons made for the mounted guns. They were too slow, Mickie vaulted the first metal barrier and landed between two imps. They had been fumbling with the larger weapons and were unable to resist as he pistol whipped them with an arm length of shiny steel. Immediately, Mickie grasped one of the dazed duo, and held it up by the back of the neck. The unlucky demon’s body shuddered under a rain of gunfire as Mickie pushed forward. He reached the second row of mounted weapons and tossed his bloody meat shield over the barrier. There was a familiar thud as his gun finished reloading. Just in time. Using the metal cover against the defending imps Mickie pointed his weapon into the bulky machine guns mounting and blew it apart. His new weapon came free with a tug and was immediately spun about to face the recovering fiends. Fire ripped free from the barrel with a thudding roar, blindly tearing into the demon ranks. The feed belt clattered against the metal barricade as Mickie swept the weapon to either side.
He stood up after the initial burst and took hold of the huge gun, using the sights as a handle. The imps that were not lying bleeding on the floor huddled behind whatever cover they could find. With precise bursts Mickie blasted those he could, shooting through containers of ammunition and the limp bodies of demons. With a crunch the ammo belt for his gun caught, jamming the weapon for a crucial instant. One of the demons took the opportunity to peek from behind a barricade, shooting at him with its rifle. Mickie dropped his heavy weapon and attempted to roll away from the shot, though the heat that blossomed along his arm informed him that he had been unsuccessful. The burn from the wound only served to spike his adrenaline. He could almost see it. The song.
With a piston drive from his legs Mickie sent his metal barricade careening towards the remaining demons. He stood and leapt for the final barrier as steel collided and shifted. The jolt of the movement shifted an imp’s aim, a bullet grazing his thigh instead of punching his gut. Then he was before the demon, removing it from the fight with a belch of flame. To his left another red hell spawn was attempting to wrangle its mounted weapon around to shoot him. Mickie grabbed the legs of the demon he had just killed and lobbed them at the creature. Blood splattered everything as the ragged remains flew. It took the panicky fiend in the chest, staggering it away from the larger gun. Before the creature could bring its own rifle up Mickie was on it. He grasped the imp by the throat and ran at another group as they fired upon him. The demon’s screaming stuttered as its comrades fired in an attempt to catch Mickie. They failed to take him, and a lion roared with a gold flash, taking two of the imps down. The remaining three were huddled behind a stack of crates, no longer even aiming properly as they fired in terror. Unwilling to wait for his gun to reload, Mickie dismissed it and scooped up a dead demon’s rifle.
Taking cover behind a crate across from the huddled trio, he dropped his minced meat shield and leant about the side. The angle put him on their flank, and the imps were too shellshocked to realise and reposition. Three bursts from the rifle and they were as still as their companions. A scream from nearby drew Mickie’s attention as a burst of fire cracked into the wall behind him. Near one of the first barricades an imp was wailing in agony with hands over its eyes. Blood soaked its fingers and ran down its face. Looked like Miz-Mag’s work. He raised the rifle to end the demon’s misery when he noted a duo of bloody fiends break from cover and run for the end of the hall. If any of the creatures escaped, they would bring an army back with them. Mickie took a moment to steady his aim before taking the furthest in the back. The fiend tumbled to the floor and its woozy friend tripped over its thrashing form. As the second imp attempted to rise Mickie raised his rifle, and a burst took it in the neck. With the escapees dealt with all that remained was the screaming imp. He took aim, insides hollow as the song about him.
‘My eyes! Oh, sweet Sovereign why? Why…’.
The wailing plea cut off and all that remained was the echoing sound of war. Mickie observed the carnage he had wrought with a familiar empty feeling in his gut. While the flow of violence still rattled through him, the song seemed to have lost its subtle shift. All he heard was the ringing of chains and groaning of a people subjugated. How easy it was to fall into old ways. All it took was a song, and he was right back into the past. The rifle fell from bloody hands, and he bald them into fists to try and stop the shaking. Nothing he could do. It was done. The imps were all dead or dying, their blockade in tatters. All that remained was to walk through the open door nearby. To meet the Conductor.
A small figure stumbled out from behind a barricade, slipping in a puddle of blood before righting itself on his bare foot. When Miz-Mag looked at him Mickie saw something in its eyes. The imp was wary of him. He had done some wild stuff up until this point, but never had he walked so willingly into a bloodbath. Always there had been a plan, preparation, or flight. The tiny demon saw now what he was truly capable off, and it was unsure what to make of it. Mickie almost laughed, the demon on his shoulder was the one wary of him. There had to be some irony in there somewhere.
Without anything to say, the pair turned towards the open double doors. From this close he could make out the pod Miz-Mag had described. It was a massive pill shaped container of metal, tethered to the floor and ceiling by thick wires. Tubes of dark steel wrapped and bound the prison, glowing with the same blood red runes as the silencing machines. As they entered the small room he noted a deactivated pile of machinery, the destroyed sound dampener. The device looked out of place in the otherwise barren space. The prison pod was at least central, this other machine was huddle in a corner, like an intruder trying to hide its presence.
Moving up to the suspended steel, Mickie examined the pod for some kind of opening, finding not a seam in the metal. If there was no easy way to crack this egg, then he would have to slam it against the counter. In an instant his gun was at the ready, the wolf belching flame that tore at rune coated pipes and disconnected a cable. Then it rotated and he fired again, more pipes and another cable coming apart. It took another two shots to sever all the cables on top, at which point the pod fell to the ground with a crash. Then Mickie started on the pipework in earnest. He shot chunks loose and tore them free by hand, stripping the metal away like it was industrial strength wrapping paper. The runes had lasted longer than expected, even with most of the pipes gone from one side they still flickered. With a wrench he tore a final piece free, leaving one half of the now scratched and dented metal cylinder open to the air. The runes finally flicked and died along the remaining pipework. As they did the metal made a sound like nails on a chalkboard, a seam appearing in the pod as if it were cut from within.
The result was a smooth line delineating the clean half of the device from the pipe laden remainder. Miz-Mag had long since returned to his shoulder and now leant forwards to watch in interest as Mickie bent down and took hold of the ragged metal. With a grunt he lifted half the prison free to reveal what lay within. It was a grey thing; wrinkled and bald. It was curled into a ball in the cramped confinement, unmoving even as the prison was opened. As Mickie set down the metal lid the creature twitched, fingers flexing. He watched as it slowly shifted its body, moving clumsily like a hatchling bird. It rose on stubby legs and exited its prison, using long, two fingered arms for balance.
While taller than those he had met before, Mickie recognised the creature. A Kindle Kin. Not the half metal hybrids that had been waging war on this level of the palace, but one of the fragile workers. Slowly, the creature raised its short neck, and looked up to him. Its eyes were wide and bulbous, as all those of its kind were. Except unlike they colourful irises of its brethren, this creature gazed upon him with orbs of milky white. It was blind. And yet, as he gazed into the sightless eyes, Mickie felt something, a vibratory shift that pulsed outward in a wave.
And the song of war, stopped.
The sudden silence hit Mickie like a physical blow. This was unlike the zones of enforced quiet, in which the song had been suppressed. At those times the tune had been locked away, still there just unable to reach him. He did not know how or why, but this cessation was different. It seemed to take something from him, something he loathed and craved in equal measure.
After a moment a new sound took the place of the song. It was the droning buzz of innumerable bees, the static of an old TV. The sound warbled and shifted as the blind Kindle Kin raised its hand. Then the conductor spoke, not with its mouth, but with the very world itself. Air vibrated in impossibly intentional rhythms to form words that were without origin because they came from everywhere at once.
‘Hello Song Spinner.’