The sourceless voice echoed through the small room, leaving Mickie and Miz-Mag speechless. It was one thing to hear one of these creatures speak, but it was as if the world itself communicated for the blind creature. The Kindle Kin seem to have comprehended their stupefaction even without eyesight. It spoke again, the noise still omnipresent but softer, akin to the voice of a normal human.
‘Ah. I appear to have been overzealous and overeager in my awakening. Apologies Song Spinner.’
Mickie blinked slowly, coming back to himself.
‘What was that?’
A strange sound came from the creature, a rhythmic hum that gave the impression of a chuckle.
‘I am commonly called the Conductor. And who might you be?’
Confused and taken aback, Mickie responded.
‘I’m uh, I’m Mickie.’
He glanced about him at the empty air.
‘How are you doing that?’
The Conductor smiled.
‘Mickie. A pleasure to put a name to the song. As for my manner of speech, it is just an adaptation I have developed as a means of communication.’
‘Seems like it can be used for a bit more than a chat. You felt that right?’
Miz-Mag seemed wary of the Kindle Kin before them. While Mickie did not respond to his companion, he had to agree. That sound had been more than verbal communication, akin to the song of war if less subtle in effect.
‘Spinner? Why are you calling me that?’
The Conductor took a couple of slow steps towards him.
‘It is the title given to you by my people. One to those who have provided new songs for our collective harmony.’
Mickie furrowed his brows.
‘I never gave any song, and if I did how would you know? You’ve been locked up this whole time.’
Milky eyes looked past him towards a nearby wall.
‘Try as they might, the demons never truly could disconnect me from the greater whole. Even locked away I could hear the music of my people.’
The world trembled as the voice darkened.
‘And their pain.’
Mickie took a nervous step back, even as the voice softened once more.
‘But you gave them a chance, and then you showed them a path. Tell me, do you not recall a moment communing with my kind?’
A memory surfaced, one in which a Kindle Kin with green eyes had taken his hand and hummed to him. Apparently, it had heard something within him during those brief moments.
‘So, I somehow gave your people a song? What song? Why does it even matter?’
The milky eyes disappeared for a moment as the Kindle Kin slowly blinked.
‘To our kind, songs are more than sound. They are intent, drive, and meaning. They are how we interacted with the world. When you communed with that young worker you were imparted with, let us say, a snapshot of their being. In turn they were imparted with one of yours.
For all that the Conductor was blind, Mickie felt like it was staring straight at him.
‘And your song, was one of war.’
It suddenly clicked, why the song of the rising Kindle Kin seemed somewhat familiar, and why it had such an effect on him.
‘So, the song they’ve been singing, its mine?’
The grey head shook.
‘Not yours, but not entirely ours either. You spun them a song of conflict and my people listened. You gave them the basis upon which they built their own song. I suppose you could call it a collaboration.’
It made sense in a way. Though now he was wondering what his own song sounded like. If he heard it would the effects be like the Kindle Kin war song but stronger? Did he even want to find out?
‘Is the effect the song had on me normal?’
‘Seemed freaky to me kid. That was one hell of a show you put on outside.’
For the most part, Miz-Mag had been content to remain silent. Yet his companion still felt the need to add inane commentary to their conversation. Clearly the Conductor could not see the diminutive devil, because the grey figure spoke as if there had been no interruption.
‘To an extent it was. Though I might have tweaked the tune slightly.’
The Kindle Kin sounded almost apologetic as it spoke, it made him suspicious.
‘What do you mean by that?’
Already, Mickie had an idea what the creature was going to say. Though he wanted it confirmed. A sound akin to a sigh echoed through the prisoner’s room.
‘I needed to escape. Simply put, even with all the opportunity you gave my people, they are losing this fight.’
The blind eyes stared unseeing into a wall.
‘We may sing the song, but we are not truly creatures of war. Even knowing the demons have laid traps, my kind walk straight into them.’
As the Conductor continued its words gained a weight that was almost physical, reverberating through the surrounds.
‘They needed direction. Someone to steer the tune of their song towards victory. It was something they recognised, and so they have been attempting to reach me, unsuccessfully of course.’
It had been silent for some time; the war song having stopped with the return of the Conductor. Yet now Mickie started to hear something new, a deep base thudding, rhythmically shaking the palace.
‘It would not have been enough. Even with your assistance.’
A song was rising. Something different from the grinding clamour of war. This was slower, yet unyielding.
‘And then I felt you. Even silenced I could see the song in you. So, I called to you through it. Played on your link to the music to draw you in. To set me free.’
The thumping tune reached an unrelenting plateau, filling the air with the force of a rolling thunderclap.
‘I apologise for using the song in such a manner. In the end however, this serves both our ends. I can hear the need for chaos caused within you.’
Mickie could feel the pull of this new song. It was not one of anger and fury, but the constant pounding of freedom, driven by the need to fight.
‘Now I am loose I can be the hand to guide the blade. We will route Rainzell, and shred the remnants of that insidious machine.’
Unsure how to feel about all this, Mickie glanced to Miz-Mag. His companion shrugged and spoke loudly over the thrumming song.
‘I mean, we did need a distraction kid. This is about as good as it gets.’
The demon turned towards the room’s exit.
‘Though I’d say we should be getting a move on, probably won’t be long before the imps find the mess you left outside. We want to be well clear before then.’
Mickie nodded his acknowledgement and turned to leave. In retrospect his actions assaulting the prison had been entirely rational. The moment Miz-Mag had sabotaged the silencing device the war song had pounced on his psyche. He thought of that old man they met in the blocked-up warehouse. Had it been the cunning geezer’s hope that something like this might happen? The man had mentioned having seen the enslavement of the Kindle Kin, so perhaps he knew of the Conductor’s imprisonment. Perhaps he could even somehow notice the link between Mickie and the war song. As the duo reached the door a voice rang clearly from the surrounding air, speaking over the thumping music as if it was not there.
‘Are you leaving already Song Spinner?’
Turning, Mickie found the Conductor standing with an expectant tilt to its head.
‘Yeah. Good luck with your fight and all that. I’ve got places to be.’
He needed to ensure that he took advantage of the upcoming madness to slip out of the palace. The blind Kindle Kin behind him might be a sitting duck, left alone in its prison, though he doubted it was helpless. At the very least the being seemed aware of its surroundings. It also had those strange speaking abilities. It was entirely possible the Conductor could attack without moving, simply generating enough noise to drop any opponent.
‘Curious. I thought you would stay to fight rather than move on.’
The voice did indeed sound interested. Mickie, however, did not feel like sticking around to explain himself. He stepped into the bloody hallway beyond the prison and froze. Figures had come into sight at the passage junction. Before even registering who had arrived, his brand burned, and a gun was in his hand. However, it was not demons standing at the end of the hall, but humans. Three individuals, frozen at the grizzly carnage of the blockade. Mickie’s eyes met the horrified gaze of a young man and woman, then settled on a familiar, wrinkled face.
‘Well, boy. I expected something, but you certainly knocked it out of the park.’
‘Hello again, old man.’
It was the same aged individual that pointed him towards the Conductor. If he had any doubts about this man knowing what had been locked up here, they were now expelled. Mickie lowered his gun but did not turn away from the trio. Even if freeing the Conductor had been to his advantage, he was unwilling to trust that the cunning fox had no further plans.
‘Interesting gun you got there. Did I see you summon it just now?’
Mickie realised that he had not shown the old palace worker his weapon in their first encounter. While he was not normally hesitant when displaying the unique firearm, something in the aged expression gave him pause. The old man was squinting at the gun intently, a furrow creasing his brow as sharp eyes took in the shaped metal. Instead of answering Mickie opted to ask a question of his own.
‘What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t willing to risk anyone on a scheme like this?’
The younger pair of the trio were looking between the bloody man and their leader, expressions a mix of confusion and concern. These two clearly weren’t in on whatever the old man had been planning. Mickie wondered why he had even brought them along. The wily worker had noticed his deflection, yet only smiled and gave an answer.
‘That would be because the song stopped boy. Only one thing that can stop the Kindle Kin so completely once they get going.’
The old man’s eyes finally left the strange gun to observe the prison beyond. Glancing back, Mickie found the Conductor approaching the opening, head tilted slightly. The thudding song around them quieted as the blind creature reached his side.
‘Karsus, is that your voice I hear? How are you not with the river yet?’
While Mickie had gotten accustomed to the strange speech of the Kindle Kin, the other younger humans clearly had not. They turned their heads about with wide eyes, looking for the sound’s source while the old man grinned broadly.
‘It is me, old friend. The river has not managed to claim me quite yet. Now you’re back we might have a chance against the Palace Lord.’
Without a shred of hesitation, the Kindle Kin stepped into the messy debris field Mickie had created. It weaved through remnants of metal barricades, stepping around lifeless imps as if it could see them. With everyone so distracted by the Conductor, he took the opportunity to subtly dismiss his gun. He had not been a fan of how interested the old man was in it. Once again empty handed, Mickie followed the freed prisoner to approach the trio of humans. The Conductor and Karsus were the only individuals in the small group that stood near one another, the younger humans keeping a wary distance.
‘It is good to see you Con, though I did not completely bank on your getting free. I’ve had people working on clearing passages for some time now. Soon enough we can flood the upper levels.’
While the Kindle Kin and human seemed friendly, Mickie heard something in Karsus’ tone. He had spoken not like an old companion, but as a privileged officer in a chain of command. There was a certain subservience in the way the old man relayed his actions. Like he was reporting rather than simply informing.
‘Good. We will need to create as many gaps in the defence as possible. I will direct the kin through the song to coordinate efforts. Can you direct your people to the tunnels I indicate?’
The Conductor spoke the question as if it already knew the answer. Sure enough, Karsus was quick to respond.
‘Of course, easily done.’
Immediately the aged human spun to face his young followers.
‘You two. This is the task I spoke of. Grab some of those guns.’
He waved a hand in the direction of Mickie’s fight.
‘And go where the Conductor tells you to. Spread the word and hand out weapons. It’s time to crack this egg.’
The duo jumped to obey and scuttled forward. Mickie was given a wide berth as they scuttled past, heading for some dropped rifles and upended ammunition. Having decided he had delayed long enough, Mickie walked by the scheming human and Kindle Kin. As he passed, Karsus turned in his direction, eyes panning up from gloved hands to squint at his face. The old man was suspicious, most likely as to where the gun had gone.
‘Where are you off to?’
Mickie gave a shrug in reply. He had already been lured into freeing the Conductor, he would not be hanging around to get sent on another errand.
‘Got stuff to do old boy. Have fun in your rebellion though, can’t say I don’t appreciate the effort.’
All he got in response was narrowed eyes. Not that he cared, it didn’t matter how sure Karsus was that he was up to something. Soon enough, Mickie would be gone from the palace and leave this whole conflict behind him. Making it to the hall’s intersection, he paused to get instructions from Miz-Mag when the air vibrated, and a voice spoke from nothing.
‘A shame that you are leaving.’
Glancing over his shoulder, Mickie found the Conductor’s milky eyes turned in his direction.
‘Remember, Song Spinner. We of the kin owe you a debt. It has been woven into the strands of our harmony. We will never forget.’
For the brief time Mickie had known the blind leader, the Conductor had seemed aloof. Rarely showing emotion outside of small glimpses. Now however, Mickie could hear the sincerity in its projected voice. He gave a firm nod of acknowledgement, then realised the Kindle Kin was supposedly blind.
‘Right. Maybe I’ll even live long enough to collect on that debt. Who knows?’
The space around him thrummed with a chuckle.
‘Farwell Mickie.’
He turned back to the path and walked away.
----------------------------------------
The palace felt abandoned as the tiny demon and ragged human ran through its halls. The new song of the Kindle Kin reverberated through the walls, drowning any smaller sounds. As a result, the duo almost failed to notice the demonic force approaching before it was too late. They rounded a bend in the passage when Miz-Mag suddenly hauled on Mickie’s ear.
‘Kid, demons! Coming fast!’
Mickie instantly reacted, pouncing upon the nearest door, and bursting through the threshold. He got it closed just in time as the faint sound of footsteps reached them. It appeared to be quite the force, all moving away from the stairwell lobby. Hopefully, it was the remnants of the guard stationed near their exit. As the noise of the passing force was swallowed by the song, Mickie glanced about the room they had entered. The space was some form of public restroom, sinks by one wall and cubicles against another. He was not even sure the imps needed to use the facilities, he certainly hadn’t since arriving in Hell. There was also was no signage or distinguishing features in the hall outside to indicate the function of this particular room. Mickie flicked a lock of hair from his eyes with a breath.
So much about this palace made no sense. It was as if the entire thing was constructed by stacking different buildings together. There had been the stone dungeon, the grey office space of administration, and now the opulent façade of the upper levels. All of it built with seemingly no cohesive plan or thought to accessibility. If Mickie had not had a guide to help him up the various floors, he would have gotten lost within the depths.
Turning to the exit of the restroom, he wondered if that was the point. A huge palace filled with pathways as twisted as its occupants. The sort of building that swallows people whole and never lets them go. He stepped into the empty hall, clicking the door shut. Well, he was clambering out of the monster’s maw, and if luck provided, there were no more demons left to stop him.
The remainder of the journey to the lobby was devoid of imps, and the pair made rapid progress through the opulent halls. Soon enough they turned a corner and discovered a hall ending in an open chamber. Slowing to a walk, Mickie approached the lobby. From a distance he could not make out any demons, but after his last encounter at the staircase caution was certainly warranted. The huge room housing the spiralling stairs to the eighth circle was just as he remembered. So opulent it bordered on gawdy with pristine floors that looked to never have seen dirt. Most importantly however, it was completely empty.
Miz-Mag was vibrating with excitement on his shoulder, the tiny fiend finally at the threshold of escape. With a slowness born of wary caution, Mickie took his first step into the lobby. Then he took another. And one more. Nothing happened; no demons, no distant voices, no evil machines. Just a clear shot at an exit. In moments he was running, a dash for the stairs backed by a song that thumped with freedom. The music of the Kindle Kin carried him forward, onwards to the next circle. Then it would be next, and the next until Mickie was free of this wretched realm.
Midway to the stairs, something shifted in the air, the ever-present song suddenly going quiet. His bounding steps faltered, and Mickie almost tripped as he came to a stumbling halt. Silence expanded about him like fog, pushing back the music until it was little more than a murmur. This was not the smothering stillness of the artificial silence. No, this quiet had a presence to it, as if the air had been commanded to settle and then made to obey. Mickie turned to the various entrances of the lobby, searching for a source. If it only entered now, he could still make the stairs. They were close, nothing could catch him before he got out. And yet, it was when Mickie turned to the leave that he saw it. Not coming into the room from an opulent passage but descending from the domed ceiling. An insectoid creature, broad as the stairs on which it walked, with segments of brown carapace held aloft by broad, pointed limbs. The front of the monster held a human torso, an armoured amalgamation of insect and man. Its head was just like another Mickie had seen, twitching mandibles below human eyes. Four arms emerged from huge shoulders, ending in gleaming fists of shiny chitin.
With growing dread, Mickie realised not all the fists were empty. One armoured ball held a figure with dark hair, dressed in ragged working garb. The Palace Lord descended with a grace its massive frame would not suggest. Innumerable carapace segments undulating in a disturbing rhythm as it cleared the staircase and coiled about it like a snake. In moments Mickie’s destination was blocked off by an impenetrable wall of armoured plating. On his shoulder Miz-Mag had shifted from quivering in excitement, to shaking in terror.
‘Oh, by the blood, kid it’s here. We need to run. We need to get away.’
Run to what? Run to were? This was the only exit, behind them was a demon infested warzone. Mickie wanted to scream in frustration. Why was Rainzell here? Its domain was quite literally overrun by an invading force. The leader of which had just escaped confinement. There was no reason for it to stand watch over the stairwell. No reason but the limp figure clenched in a monstrous fist. On the creature’s forehead something moved. An shield of interlocking plates folded into one another to reveal the Palace Lord’s third eye. Not one of a human, but shining, facetted, a pristine gemstone that contained a dark, shifting pupil. Mickie might not have even thought it an eye, if not for the feeling the orb invoked. As the pure crystal came into view he felt as if the attention of an evil god was upon him. It rooted him to the spot, nothing but a small animal before a terrifying beast. Instinctual fight or flight was overcome with startled immobilisation.
‘Finally. The little rat delivers itself unto me. And what it this? It appears the vermin was carrying a familiar flee.’
The voice was deep, filling the enforced silence and stomping upon the Kindle Kin’s lethargic melody. It came from within the dark maw of the Palace Lord, echoing up from its gullets to fill the domed lobby. On Mickie’s shoulder Miz-Mag folded at the sound of it, the demon terrified by the unnerving monstrous being before them.
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‘Tell me tiny bug, are you what has allowed this sickness to invade my halls? You, who allowed this rodent to squirm so fiercely, for so long?’
His companion did not answer, could not, such was its terror. Mickie however, pushed back the monster’s impossible presence. The demon had held is attention, but now all he could see was the limp figure in its grasp.
‘So you’re the Palace Lord then. How about you answer something for me? Why is it the boss is just sitting back while its home is overun? Not exactly good leadership practice.’
Mandibles clicked in a show of disturbing humour.
‘Come now. You think the Kindle Kin truly pose a threat? I will crush their song when the time comes, and the Mechanist shall slip the chain back about their necks.’
Rainzell’s tone grew darker.
‘The Conductor, however. That grey skinned cretin will take significant effort to get back under control. You should not have set it free.’
With a flick of the wrist the Palace Lord abruptly tossed its limp captive to the floor. The woman hit the tiles with a meaty thud, lying in a boneless heap. Mickie looked at his friend Aria, trying to gauge if she was alive.
‘Foolish slave. It is not uncommon for mortals to get lofty ideas about their standing. It appeared this one had the misfortune of meeting you.’
Mickie did not reply, just watching the pile of hair and worn cloth.
‘The human gave you up you know. A lesson in loyalty rat, all of your kind are prone to betrayal. You will sell one another out after little more than a threat.’
The heat of anger bloomed within the branded man, and he met the eyes of the Palace Lord. He did not blame Aria for talking. Everyone talked eventually. He just hoped she had talked early enough to avoid the worst of the suffering. From the outside she appeared mostly intact, signs of damaged contained to torn clothes and small injuries. Yet the older woman did not rise from the floor. Mickie could only hope she was still breathing.
‘Understand, little rat, that there are some barriers you cannot breach. We demons are not made equal. You might strike fear into the imps, yet to those of a higher order you are nothing but a nuisance.’
The fire in Mickie’s gut was stoked. He sneered at the monstrous insect.
‘The Mechanist sure was something, and yet I turned its body to scrap.’
A thought occurred to him, a thread he could pull upon.
‘And I seem to recall another bug like you. Down in the Evergaol. That creature seemed to think it was hot stuff too.’
A triple barrelled gun was called into his hand.
‘At least until I turned it into dog food.’
The Palace Lord did not react as Mickie intended. Instead of an anger its mandibles clicked once more in a creepy laugh.
‘Trying to make me mad rat? How foolish you are. I said demons were not made equal. You might have killed one of my spawn. Yet it was but an inferior cast-off. The fact it fell to you proves it.’
Huge chitinous arms flexed in anticipation.
‘As for the Mechanist. Well, it is apparent you had assistance.’
Oversized human eyes focussed upon the spot where Miz-Mag huddled.
‘It will be good to finally squish you bug. A century of your stink has been far too long.’
Finally, Miz-Mag was roused enough to squeak an angry response.
‘Why will you never let me past? I’m a demon too. Why do you always stop me?’
For some reason, that question sparked anger in the old monster. Innumerable legs stomped and clacked in anger as Rainzell replied.
‘Because I can see it in you. Something that should not be. That should never be again. You reek of it. Of the Soul Lord.’
On the floor Aria’s form shifted as she roused. The Palace lord threw Mickie’s friend a look but paid her little mind.
‘I could never allow a remnant of that traitor to remain. You might be hard to catch, little flee, but I am persistent. And now you have made a mistake.’
It turned its creepy gaze on Mickie once more.
‘Binding yourself to a mortal such as this. A fragile sack of flesh that will drag you to the river, gone for good.’
Miz-Mag seemed to be growing angrier by the moment.
‘Screw you! We’ll turn you to paste, just like we did with all the others. Then we’ll do the same with every other circle. Kid! Kick its ass!’
The tirade was met with amusement from the Palace Lord but fell on deaf ears with Mickie. His focus was entirely on the woozy form of Aria as she slowly sat up. There was a moment of confusion as the woman turned about, followed by a look of horror as she noted both Mickie and Rainzell. Then came an expression he had not expected. One of resignation. The huge insect blocking their path also noted his friend’s awakening. Its eyes flicked to her before returning to Mickie.’
‘So, the foolish slave awakens. I suppose you wonder why I brought it along, little rat. You see, I felt a demonstration was required.’
Behind Aria a monstrous leg rose, clawed point gleaming in preparation for a strike. Mickie swallowed hard. He had figured it was going to be something like this. From where he stood there was no chance of reaching the older woman before the palace lord skewered her. Aria however, did not look to her approaching demise, instead meeting Mickie’s eyes. All he saw in her was determination.
‘Mickie, I’m sorry.’
Her voice was raspy, but firm. Rainzell gave the woman an interested look as she spoke. The kind a cat might give a bug struggling on the floor.
‘Oh. You wish to speak slave? A final epitaph perhaps? Go on then.’
Aria did not look away from Mickie. She appeared to be fiddling about with something under her shirt. It was not something he could make out, hunched as she was on the floor.
‘Mickie. They got me. I made it back to the warehouse, but they knew. Probably got ratted out.’
She paused to cough roughly. When Aria resumed speaking her hands had stopped their hidden fidgeting.
‘I suppose it doesn’t matter now.’
Another bout of coughing had her gasping for air.
‘Mickie, can I ask you to do something?’
There was finality in the question. The weight given to a request that one never expected to see fulfilled. All Mickie could give in response was a nod.
‘Show them for me. Show them we are more than what they think of us. Take back some of the blood that th…’
A huge claw descended in a blur. It connected with Aria’s back like an oversized pickaxe and slammed her against the floor. With hardly more than a gasp, the older woman was cut-off mid-sentence. A razor-sharp tip parted her flesh like a hole punch through paper, leaving his friend skewered on a length of bloody chitin. The Palace Lord had not even let her finish.
‘I tire of this prattle.’
The leg rose and gave a loathsome flick, sending the corpse of Mickie’s only friend in Hell rolling across the pristine tiles. A bloody streak marked her passage, a crimson ribbon connecting her to the monstrous insect. Blood was rapidly pooling about the body, the wound in her back an open sluice-gate. Mickie took it all in with a familiar emptiness inside him. Except now the walls of his hollow core shook from the pressure outside. All of Hell, all he had seen and done, his death, it was crushing him.
Then, as if in a daze, Mickie noticed something on the floor by Rainzell’s bloody claw. It was small, cylindrical, and had a green button on the top. He squinted at the familiar object. The last time Mickie had seen one of these it was when he had hidden it in the warehouse. The very same warehouse that Aria had returned to after his capture. Somehow, someway, his friend had both found the final explosive, and managed to hide it on her person until this point. Past the demons who had beaten and interrogated her, under the ever-seeing eye of the Palace Lord itself. All to this point, to give him a chance and make a request. Mickie looked up into the eyes of the monstrous insect. For such a seemingly omnipotent being it had the same flaw as every other denizen of Hell. A flaw borne of unchallenged power and impossible ego. It could not help but underestimate humans.
With a flash the bomb went off right beside Rainzell’s glistening leg, and Mickie was blow backwards in a flash of light.
----------------------------------------
The boy sat curled up on his bed, bloody fingers gripping his elbows as he rocked slowly back and forth, back and forth. It was too much, all of it too much. The pain in his wrist from holding the weapon, the warm feeling of blood against his toes. He could not even cry. Only sit, sit and rock.
Back and forth. Back and…
A hand touched his shoulder. The boy turned to find a face looking down at him with concern. A face that should have been cold, with its sharp angles and piercing eyes. Except to him it was the kindest face in the world.
‘Lu…’
He got no further before a sob broke free. The boy sobbed into the arms of the girl, heaving breaths as he attempted to regain control.
‘Mik, what are you doing? You can’t cry like this. You know how it will be if she sees you.’
‘I can’t help it.’
The words came blubbering out between sobs.
‘It’s too much. Too much.’
She stroked his hair gently.
‘I know. You have to remember what I told you. You need to pack it away.’
‘Darius told me packing it away is bad for you.’
There was a soft laugh.
‘Well Darius is a brick who hasn’t felt real emotions in decades. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be us. What it takes for us to survive.’
With a few steadying breaths the boy stopped his balling and turned to the girl. Looking into her gentle eyes.
‘I tried to lock it down. Like you said. I did. But it just comes back up. Why is she like this Lu? Why is she?’
The girl shushed him as his voice rose in heated anger.
‘Careful Mik. Careful. She is how she is. We can’t stop the storms now, can we?’
He frowned and made to speak.
‘But…’
‘I know she isn’t a storm you silly boy. But it does not change the fact that it only gets worse if we go against her.’
Strong hands pushed him to an arm’s length.
‘And if she catches you like this, she will punish you. So, you need to lock it all up. You hear me?’
‘But I can’t.’
He whined with wobbly lip.
‘It always becomes too much in the end.’
The girl gave him a thoughtful look.
‘Then maybe you need to do something else.’
‘Something else?’
He got an affirming nod.
‘Yes. Instead of keeping it down, how about you never let it in. Can you try that for me?’
The boy voiced a shaky agreement.
‘Okay.’
‘Good boy. Now I want you to picture yourself as an empty space, like a ball with nothing in it. Can you do that for me?’
He nodded and did as he was bid.
----------------------------------------
The recollection faded as the world came into focus, three spiralling stairs superimposing on one another to create a cohesive whole. With a pounding head Mickie sat up and took in his surroundings. The lobby was the same for the most part, the explosion having been contained to its centre. The staircase was surprisingly undamaged by the blast, though the same could not be said of the Palace Lord. Rainzell had been torn almost in half, its torso held to the bulk of its insectile form by a stretch of ragged flesh. Most of the carapace segment before the human portion was gone, taking both arms on one side with it. The crystal eye sat half lidded and unfocussed while the human pair rolled about in delirium. Below the torso a set of spiked legs were attempting to scramble along the floor. The remainder of the partially attached body appeared uncooperative however, shifting and twitching in random directions.
Mickie judged the creature dazed, but not yet out for the count. It would be best to finish things before the insect could regain its bearings. Standing, he noted a huddled ball of red in his arms. Miz-Mag seemed to become aware of its position at the same time he did. The demon immediately sprung upright and clambered to its usual spot on his shoulder. It appeared to be saying something, though Mickie could not make it out over the ringing in his ears. Slowly, the duo made their way towards the disoriented Palace Lord. They passed the still form of Aria, further bloodstains marking her second journey across the tiles. Sound gradually returned in the form of the Kindle Kin’s song, no longer supressed by the Palace Lord.
It appeared the huge monster was beginning to regain control itself. Even with a large chunk of its body gone, Rainzell was an old and powerful demon. Not a creature to die easy. At Miz-Mag’s urging Mickie took up a stumbling jog, only to come to a halt when a series of thudding clangs reverberated through the chamber. The sound of the surrounding song was muffled, and it did not take Mickie long to find the cause. All the exits to the lobby had been sealed by walls of dark steel. The space was enclosed but for the staircase out. The fog in Mickie’s mind had not yet cleared enough to properly process the change when a voice echoed through the chamber. A feminine sound, dead as salted earth.
‘Are you there, my wayward creature?’
Throughout the chamber pandemonium erupted as tiles shattered and domed portions of the ceiling fell away. From the dark emerged long, sinuous tentacles of ropey cable. Bending and twisting they rose into the air, topped with claws, cameras, blades, and innumerable other gleaming tools. The room became a forest of snaking arms within moments, a horde of deadly obstacles between him and the Palace Lord.
‘Did you think you could kill me, little mortal?’
The prehensile appendages began sweeping the chamber, searching for a hidden human.
‘Did you not realise that I am the palace itself? Impossible for you to ever destroy.’
At the foot of the spiralling stairs the Palace Lord let lose its clicking laugh. Human eyes regained focus to stare straight at Mickie.
‘Looks like play times over human.’
The remnants of the armoured torso straightened even as green ichor ran from brutal wounds.
‘Machine. I will inform you of its location. You will take this one alive. I want to impart a le…’
As one of Rainzell’s claws had descended on Aria, a huge black mass of coils now fell upon the unsuspecting Palace Lord. The bundle split as it reached the battered insectoid body, striking the monster and cutting it off with a pained roar.
‘Machine! What are you doing?’
The black tentacles were not just striking at the body but seemed to be digging into its very flesh. Mickie would have liked to say he moved forward while the two titans struggled. However, the sight of it had him rooted to the spot in disturbed horror.
‘You are too weak to suppress me. Too weak to resist. I will make better use of this form.’
With a wet tear the front segment of the Palace Lord was pulled away, its mandibles open in a roar of pain. The cry ended abruptly as a limb of dark cable sunk into its mouth, making the insect’s human eyes bulge and its body seize.
‘I tire of having so much filth within my body. It is time to make myself clean. No more humans, no more demons, and no more singers. Only me and my children.’
The muffled chitinous mass was lifted into the air by strings that burrowed into the meat of its body. Rainzell appeared to be seizing up, losing an impossible battle for control. From behind the barriers sealing the lobby the song was growing closer. Closer and louder.
‘Such sound. It grates upon me. Do they think they can hunt me with it? When they are in my palace?’
Two broad tentacles near the stairs began to glow with blood red runes. Immediately, the sound in the chamber was replaced by absolute silence. It appeared the robot could generate quiet of its own. As the rising song was smothered, the Palace Lord grew rigid in the nest of cables, then went limp. In a stillness of its own making, the Mechanist spoke.
‘There, it is done. I shall make better use of your gifts.’
With a jerking twist Rainzell’s head snapped upwards to focus its crystal eye upon Mickie. The two human eyes rolled in their sockets, uncoordinated and disturbing.
‘Hello little creature. I can see you once more.’
The horror of the scene gripped the duo, and they stood frozen, looking at the possessed remains of the Palace Lord. It was too much for Mickie. This whole ordeal was too much. Aria, this palace, the wastes beyond.
‘And what is this. A demon, so small, so curious.’
Miz-Mag shook on his shoulder, terror gripping the tiny demon. The overwhelming flood threatened to swallow Mickie, just as it used to when he had been little. During his time in Hell, he had felt it on occasion. The hollow within he had built. That he had spent his life strengthening until nothing could phase him. It had taken a lot to see the hollow shattered. But once it had, all Mickie had wanted to do was leave it behind.
‘Perhaps I shall take the small one. Is it you that made the deal tiny demon? Are you connected to my most hated father?’
For a time, he had gotten to experience it. A life of feeling, a life where he would not drown in himself for if he did not shut the world out. Except he had been hollow when he died, and in death he found himself empty still. As it turned out you could not just tear down the walls. They were always there. Always waiting.
On his shoulder Miz-Mag was screaming vitriol that never left its tiny jaws. The silencing field was total, but his tiny companion did not seem to mind as it wailed into the empty air. He scooped the fiend gently from his shoulder, holding the demon at eye level.
‘Oh? Will you offer it to me mortal? Do you think that will save you?’
The robotic tone went ignored as Mickie looked into the golden eyes of his companion. He pointed at the Mechanist and made a fist. He pointed at Miz-Mag, and waved a hand out of sight. The fiend seemed to understand. It settled its panic fuelled rage and gave him an uncertain look. In his partner’s red features Mickie saw wariness. Not of him, but of the world around them. The demon had spent a century unseen within these labyrinthine halls. One hundred years with no goal but to leave. Now its only shot of escape was sealed behind a wall of twisting cable. The demon tensed for a moment, then sagged with a breath. Its next look was a new one. Miz-Mag met his eyes and in the instant before the demon vanished Mickie saw the pleading desperation within them. Then it was gone with the demon, leaving his hand empty.
‘The creature? Where has it gone? Mortal, what did you do?’
The cold voice sounded almost annoyed that its object of curiosity had vanished. Mickie found it strange that the Mechanist was asking so many questions when it had silenced everything but itself. Perhaps the machine had not survived their last encounter completely unscathed. It did seem like there were a few screws loose in the old bag of bolts. All about him the sinuous arms were coiling, pulling back in preparation to strike. It appeared the Mechanist was done playing its games. That was fine, Mickie was just about done screwing around as well. It was time for him to accept the reality of his situation. Hell would destroy him if he was not hard. It would drown him in a torrent of misery before sending what remained to the abyss. He needed to shut it all out. Just like his sister had taught him to.
He took a slow breath, a steady breath. The hollow expanded with his lungs. Like a ship in the fog it had always been there, lurking, out of sight. Now it swallowed him whole. As Mickie breathed out, he let it all go. The pain, the fear, the wonder, and the triumph. Everything was gone but for one emotion. For he had discovered early on that you could not operate without fuel. Something had to burn so the body could survive, and nothing sparked quite as hot as rage.
The scalding heat flowed through him like a river, and Mickie was moving in an instant. From his stationary position he was on the first grasping fusions of rubber and steel in moments. So fast that it almost took the Mechanist by surprise. Two coiled tentacles launched towards him, one a grasping claw and the other a sharpened metal blade.
Mickie shot the claw, scattering metal and sending the limb behind it awry. The moment he fired he dismissed the gun, already noting the time until it reloaded. Instead of ducking away from the bladed arm he rolled towards it. The sharpened steel whispered past his shoulders and put Mickie alongside the extended tentacle. He was up and running before the appendage could curl back in to strike him, already noting a camera swinging in from the right. It was attached to a thick mass of cabling that produced force with minimal control. Mickie slid low as the camera flew by and was immediately forced to jump as bladed arm came on its return swing. The weapon jerked to a stop as he sailed free, caught on its thicker sibling.
‘No wonder you evaded me mortal. So slippery, an eel in my pipes.’
The ranting of the machine was nothing to him, all that mattered was stairs. A trio of tentacles protruded from a single hole in the floor, each tipped with a sparking taser. It would be safer to go around, but safety was not the priority. Speed was. As Mickie came into range the three limbs descended upon him. Knowing he could not dodge them all, the branded man instead ducked past one and grasped the other two as they closed. He did not try to halt their strike but redirected it, driving the sparking weapons into one another. While he had been holding the right tentacle by its rubber body, his left hand grasped the metal taser. An electrical charge jolted Mickie even as he released the cables and continued to run. The burn of it was only fuel to the flame and he snarled while leaping the taser trio’s hole. Landing in a sprint he was instantly focussed on the next set of sinuous barriers. So focussed, in fact, that Mickie failed to notice the descending hook until it was almost too late.
In his mad dash along the floor, he had forgotten that there were limbs dangling from the distant ceiling. One of these fell upon him now, aiming to trap him on a curved length of steel. Mickie rolled forward as a line of ice slid down his back. The momentary distraction put him within reach of the other ground dwelling appendages and two claws closed in to grasp him. He evaded one but the second caught his calf. Even as the tentacle sent Mickie tumbling, he summoned a freshly reloaded gun and blasted it apart.
‘How long can you squirm eel? I am endless in this castle.’
There was no respite and Mickie was forced to roll aside when a heavy ball of steel swung for his head. Instead of jumping to his feet and running away, Mickie heaved himself onto the chunk of metal. The broad mass of machinery behind the ball had been driving it towards him along the ground. He used that momentum now, getting his feet in position and launching from the ball as it slowed. A blade sailed narrowly by before Mickie was running once more, only one twisting barrier between him and the staircase. With one hand he reached down and tore the unattached claw from his leg. The removal cost him some flesh but let him move freely as the final tentacle arced towards him. It was topped with a strange tube and Mickie realised all to late what it was for.
Flame roared from the limb to inundate him from the chest up. With a flinch the mortal closed his eyes, only to feel an uncomfortable heat. The anger driving him did not wait longer than that. Swift steps brought him close to the tentacle, and a swing drove the claw’s remains into the flamethrower. Mickie was running for the stairs even as the flames licked up his undamaged chest.
‘The fire? Was it the deal mortal? Do you think you can scamper away up the stairs?’
Before him lay the dead remains of the Palace Lord, large segments of insectile carapace that sat motionless about his escape route. As much as the fire failed to injure Mickie, it created an inconvenient obstruction to his vision. Upon reaching the corpse this meant he failed to notice the puddle of green ichor until he slipped and was tumbling through it. The goop served to douse the flames but left Mickie smelling a familiar kind of foul. He scrambled past the severed end of the insect and into a gap between coiled body segments. The possessed remains of the monster swivelled to follow him, cables bulging the chitinous plating.
‘There will be no respite above. You will never reach the city.’
Mickie gripped a section of leg and hauled himself onto the dead limb before scrambling atop the body itself. Immediately a camera swung at him from above, but the ichor coated man was already jumping to the top of the next segment. Dead insect continued up the staircase, and Mickie took off along the Palace Lord’s corpse instead of the steps it covered. Slithering tentacles gave chase while above a wall of rubber and steel was forming to trap him. He needed to move faster, yet the viscera coating his body made each step treacherous. With a silent and sudden rumble, the world shook and Mickie slipped in his climb. He contacted the ridged chitin of the dead insect hard and grasped an edge to avoid sliding further. The shaking did not last long, and soon Mickie was back on his feet and continuing upwards. Except it appeared the Mechanist had paused in its chase.
‘What is this? My little toys? Have you have decided to come back to me?’
The new object of the mad machine’s interest came into view as Mickie rounded a bend in the stairs. Beyond the sea of artificial limbs was a pillar of smoke, rising from a hole where there had once been a sealed passage. From its murky depths came hulking figure of dark steel, Kindle Kin hybrids that moved to engage the furthest twisting tentacles. Mickie was unwilling to waste his adversaries’ distraction and the new arrivals fell out of sight as he ran.
‘Oh? Do believe that you can destroy me? I thought you would have learnt by now; I am the master in these walls.’
Beneath him the tentacles had resumed their pursuit, though he would soon clear their reach. When next Mickie caught sight of the Kindle Kin a new scene was playing out. The metal hybrids had formed a curved wall that carved into the innumerable robotic limbs. The result was a safe zone surrounding their point of entry, a space that was filling with small creatures, grey and almost waddling on their stubby legs. It was the true Kindle Kin, those that worked within administration. They looked so fragile compared to their metal brethren and the Mechanist’s tentacles. Mickie wondered what they were even doing here, how could something so small assist in a fight such as this?
‘Ah the singers. You think you can attack me? Did I not find a solution to your prattle years ago?’
That gave Mickie pause, they could attack the Mechanist? And it dawned on him. A realisation that cascaded into plan, one that would guarantee a chance at escape. He hesitated, glancing towards the distant ceiling. It was blanketed by limbs of rubber and steel, the machine awaiting his arrival. It would be next to impossible to escape that way. The only way out, was through. Mickie turned to the possessed remains of Rainzell, his decision made.
Coming level with the hanging grotesquery he shifted direction, running right for the ledge. Without hesitation the branded man launched himself into open air, sailing right for the crystal eyed corpse. The Mechanist was too slow in noticing him, only starting to move the bulky mass of chitin as he neared. It became clear that Mickie was likely to make the jump, so the robot instead lashed a nearby tentacle at him. A limb coated in red runes swung to strike him from the air, just as he had hoped it would. He twisted mid-air and grasped the silence enforcing appendage. It hit him with such force that Mickie almost failed to grab hold, his shoulders popping and a leg failing to gain purchase.
Instead of trying to keep hold of the twisting tentacle he let go. The fall was substantial, but Mickie had arrested enough momentum to make the landing managable. With a grunt of exertion and a twinge of pain he hit the floor. A gun manifested in a scarred hand and Mickie rushed the base of the runed tentacle. His fall had placed him right by it, and before the Mechanist could do anything to react the branded man raised his weapon and fired.
Plastic and steel were torn, half the limb gone in an instant. The appendage had been swinging around to strike him and now its own momentum worked against it. Remnants near the base gave out and the tentacle fell, red runes dying along its surface. Immediately there was a shift in the air, the universal quiet that gripped the chamber faltered as something took its place. Distant, yet ferocious, like beast howling at the gates. Music.
Mickie glanced over to the second rune lined limb, it was still upright, twisting and folding in on itself. He cast a glance at the Kindle Kin, the metal giants still holding back the Mechanist. Past those fighters were fragile creatures of flesh and blood. It had to be them. Singing so loudly that one suppressor was not enough. The Mechanist had been droning something right before the distant noise started, but it was silent now. No more threats, no more taunts. It looked like Mickie had finally gotten to see the machine afraid. Now all that was left was to see it dead.
He ran at the second and final silencer, even as all the tentacles that pursued him up the stairs shifted direction. Weapons came at him from all side, a veritable wave of deadly steel. A bulky camera whistled by his head and collided with a claw, sending them both off course. Mickie grasped a blade by the base and used it to block another, slipping past in the moment of collision. A claw reach from the ceiling and instead of dodging he reached past the steel fingers to grasp the plastic beyond. With a yank Mickie launched into the air and over a heavy metal ball.
There was a vibration up his arm as the gun reloaded, he was close now. A hook cut at his side and Mickie danced left without slowing, the flash of pain as it scratched him going ignored. Then a blade bit into his leg as two dancing claws kept him occupied. Rather than resisting the edge he moved with it, feeling the scrape of steel on bone for only an instant before he was free once more. The pulsing runes were within range now, yet he could not fire. Twisting tendrils from other limbs obscured the air, obfuscating the sightlines and blocking any shot. Just a bit further.
It was becoming harder to move, wounds accumulating on Mickie’s body as he pushed deeper towards the final silencing tentacle. A wall of weapons was forming about him, enclosing him in a circle of death. The Mechanist knew what the Kindle Kin’s song meant, and it threw everything at him to keep it at bay. As progress slowed Mickie felt frustration crack his empty insides. He was so close, yet the machine seemed intent to drown him in the plastic of its body. A massive ball of steel drove at him from above and Mickie barely managed to shift out of the way. The lumpen mass slammed into the tiled floor, peppering his legs with ceramic shards.
While the attack would have flattened him if it had connected, the huge tentacle instead provided an opportunity. Mickie leapt atop the limb as it started to retract, his injured leg almost buckling as the ball rose once more. He ran across slick rubber as it moved, passing by the lesser limbs it had flattened while striking. A sparking taser came for him and Mickie dove forward, over the final few tentacles. He sprung up right before the runed limb as it struck at him, instantly ducking low to avoid it.
‘Mortal.’
The cold voice sounded almost pleading, the sorrowful moan of a creature that saw its end at hand. Mickie jammed the lion’s head right into the base of the tentacle. Limbs behind him reached, desperate to stop what was about to happen. The muffled song rose, a wolf scenting weakened prey. He pulled the trigger, the lion roared gold into the silence, and sound consumed the world.