Six
Right before my very eyes, I watched as Nicole burst into flames. All around me the prisoners scrambled while the demons who had come with her also went up like Roman candles, but I barely even registered that. My mind was reeling. The whole stinking day had been one awful event after another. The one beacon of hope in this whole terrible mess had been finding the sister I had lost so many years ago.
I didn’t understand anything that was going on. I had no clue why or how Nicole had become an angel. I didn’t know who Nergal or Aamon were or what they wanted with human souls. I didn’t give a damn about why they seemed to be at war with each other. At that moment, I didn’t even care why Nicole was working with one of them and calling him Master. All I knew was that this Nergal bastard was killing my sister before I even had a chance to hold a real conversation with her.
Needless to say, I snapped like a rubber band.
With a feral cry, I lunged at Nergal even though he was wearing a full suit of armor while I was still very squishy in nothing but my flannel shirt and jeans. I would like to say that I caught him off-guard and knocked him over, giving Nicole a chance to miraculously recover from the inferno she was caught in, but that would be a lie. I never reached him. An imp intercepted me, tackling me from the side and causing us to both crash to the floor in a jumbled heap. I hadn’t even noticed it was in the room. Now, one benefit of being a kid who grew up in the foster care system and had a whole slew of anger issues was that I knew a thing or two about fighting and had learned very early on how to take a hit. I was also figuring out that being dead meant that I was a lot tougher than I had been when I was young and learning how to take those hits.
I shoved the imp off of me as we landed and kicked it square in the chest with both feet. My kick was stronger than I had expected and it sent the imp rolling across the floor. It recovered quickly, though, and had already gotten up and summoned its sword by the time I pushed myself into a crouch next to the rack of torture implements. No swords were hanging on it, unfortunately, but there was a sharp iron poker that looked like it would serve well enough in a pinch. I grabbed the poker while a few other imps began rounding up the freed prisoners, most of whom looked too weak to fight back. Around us the demons that had caught fire were burning out, leaving only piles of ash where they had once stood. I honestly can’t say I felt any sympathy for them. According to Nicole, they had only been there to kidnap us for what I assumed was the same purpose Nergal was using us for. The pillar of fire surrounding Nicole was still going strong, and I paused for a moment, watching it. Was it getting brighter?
With a brilliant flash the fire exploded outward, revealing Nicole standing there, wings spread wide and wearing a full suit of golden armor, a glowing halo hovering over her full-face helmet. In one hand she held a large gold-trimmed shield. The face was pearl-white with a ruby-red cross printed in the center. Faint black splotches mottled the surface of the cross, lessening the otherwise striking impression it made. In her other hand was her flaming sword. I couldn’t see her face, of course, but I could tell from her stance — she was MAD. “Nergal,” she said, her voice low and muffled by her helmet. “This day shall be your last. I will cast you into the abyss where not even the warm fires of Hell can reach you.”
“How amusing,” Nergal replied with a chuckle. “I was planning much the same for you, Destroyer. And while you’re there, you can spend your time thinking about all the wonderful plans I have for your brother’s soul. Won’t that be fun?” Nergal turned to the imp that had attacked me, which had stopped and was watching the two figures in awe. I had to admit that I was doing the same. “Subdue the soul, but don’t destroy it, or you’ll wish you had chosen the abyss after all.” With that he turned and charged at Nicole, spreading his dark wings wide and closing the gap between them with one leap. Nicole blocked his sword with her shield, bracing herself against his much larger bulk and slamming her sword down on his back. His wings blocked her attack, fiery sparks flying as I realized that the edges of his wings were covered in armor plate. The imp and I both watched in fascination as the two began a mighty duel that neither of us stood any chance of interfering with lest we be swept away into oblivion.
I snapped out of my daze as someone behind me screamed. Two imps were herding the prisoners toward the door on the other side of the room, opposite the one they had brought me in through. Some of them were struggling and clearly didn’t want to go that way. It seemed to me like a better option than the same room where an angel and a demon lord were clashing in an epic battle straight out of a Japanese anime, but hey, I was just the newcomer, so what did I know? That was the same door the jailer had taken the former-human-turned-imp through earlier. Maybe something really nasty was waiting on the other side. I started to run over to try and help the prisoners, but my movement snapped the imp that had attacked me into action and it sprang forward, swinging its sword at me. I managed to bring my poker up to block the strike and the sword crashed against it, sending shockwaves of pain down my arm. I ignored the pain and threw my weight against the imp, pushing it back a few paces. I swung my poker as hard as I could while it stumbled and caught it on the shoulder, cutting a deep gash in the greenish-grey skin. Dark blood seeped from the wound and the demon howled in rage, swinging at me again. I stepped to the side trying to avoid the strike but wasn’t quite fast enough. The demon’s sword caught my shirt and a sharp, burning pain in my side told me that it had found the flesh underneath. I put my hand down to check and it came back red and bloody. The demon grinned. I set my jaw, adjusted my stance, and got ready for the real fight to begin.
Mastemat used her shield to block another of Nergal’s strikes and countered with a quick jab of her own, which he didn’t bother blocking but instead turned, letting the sword glance off his armor. She growled in frustration as she brought her shield up to stop another blow from his greatsword, the impact sending waves of shock through her body. She had known it would be a hard fight. He was just too large for her to take on physically. She was still the size of a fifteen-year-old girl while he was as big as the pro wrestlers she had used to watch on TV. In a normal fight, it wouldn’t have even been a contest, he would have crushed her with his first blow. Fortunately, this battle was anything but normal. She flared the flames on her sword to twice their normal intensity and flapped her wings hard, sending her back and into a spiraling leap. She dismissed her shield and gripped the sword with both hands as she swung around, bringing it down as hard as she could at the base of Nergal’s neck. The strike landed true and Nergal grunted as fire erupted around his head, sending him staggering back a few steps. Mastemat remained hovering in place, ready for whatever his next move would be. He laughed. “You have some nice tricks, Destroyer,” he said as the flames died out. “I can see why Aamon likes keeping you around. I wouldn’t be able to stand your stench in my castle, however. It reeks of holiness.”
“I’ll have your head soon enough, Nergal. Then you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” She hated Aamon for forcing her to fight for him, but she was glad for this opportunity to rid the Soul Divide of one of the demon lords that plagued it. She would purge them all. She would see that no more souls were tortured and drained of their essence over and over again until they eventually slipped into the abyss. No more souls would be held captive, kept from moving on to where they belonged. No more would innocent children be tricked into an eternity of slavery in a moment of grief-stricken weakness. Across the room, a shout caught her attention. She turned and saw her brother there, holding an iron poker and facing off against an imp, a bloody gash on his side. She tried rushing to his aid, to take out the imp in a single slash and whisk him away to safety, but she was held in place by Aamon’s command. She was there to destroy Nergal. Everything else was secondary to that one single objective, even her brother. The imp charged and she saw that her brother had gotten a hit on it too. A deep wound on its shoulder was dripping dark blood down its arm. She gasped as realization struck. Imps weren’t supposed to bleed. She turned back to Nergal. “What evil is this?”
Nergal chuckled. “Do you like my creations? Humans are so versatile, evolving and adapting to any environment, existing where nothing should. It’s such a waste to limit their use to simply providing essence, no matter how delectable it is.”
“You’re turning humans into imps?” Mastemat asked, revulsion and fury boiling up inside her.
Nergal laughed again. “No, dear Destroyer. I’m simply providing them the opportunity. They do the rest themselves. It’s truly fascinating.”
“Sending you to the abyss is one task I’m glad I was given, Nergal,” Mastemat said through gritted teeth. “I will see it done.”
“Your delusions are delightful, little one. You may be effective against my minions, but you are no match for a true demon. I would tell you to give up, but I know the bonds Aamon has you tied with, so instead I will simply end it quickly and rid the Soul Divide of your stench.”
“You forget I was human once too, Nergal,” she said, resummoning her shield. “We’re a stubborn lot. Not so easy to destroy.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Nergal said as he flew forward on his dark wings. His sword met hers, sending another spray of fiery sparks out, and they continued their deadly dance.
Flashes of light and crashing metal dominated the other side of the room, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the imp long enough to see how Nicole was faring. I was bleeding from two new gashes while I had yet to score another hit on my opponent. I realized that I had gotten lucky with my first strike. These things were tough and spry, and a poker was a poor substitute against a real sword. If I was going to stand a chance I needed to get this thing to drop its sword or get one of my own. Unfortunately, neither option seemed likely. There wasn’t exactly an abundance of swords lying around for me to grab, and I had seen what happened when imps dropped theirs. They simply disappeared and could be resummoned at any time. Handy, that was, but it didn’t bode well for me. I could try to get behind one of the torture racks and tip it over, trapping the imp or at least tripping it up, but those wings on its back meant it could simply fly over any obstacles on the ground, which would then become hindrances for me. I blocked another strike and felt panic starting to rise. I was running out of ideas. At least I wasn’t getting tired. Another benefit of being dead, I supposed. Though it could have just been adrenaline. What would happen if the imp managed to chop off my head or stab me in the heart? I’d probably wind up going to that abyss place everyone kept talking about. No one seemed to want to go there, so I figured it was their version of hell or something. Either way, I didn’t fancy taking a trip to find out for myself.
My back hit something solid and I realized I’d been forced against a wall. Before I could make another move the imp rushed forward and pinned me to the wall with its forearm against my chest. It rammed its swordpoint into my shoulder and I felt the blade grind against bone as it passed through my flesh and dug into the stone behind me. I screamed in pain and dropped the poker. “Pathetic human,” it hissed. “You dare to defy me?”
“Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” I replied, grimacing as sweat dripped from my brow and stung my eyes.
“I would send you to the abyss for your insolence, soul,” the demon said, its vile breath hot on my face. “But Lord Nergal has other plans, it seems.” It looked at the bloody gash on its shoulder and scowled. It twisted the sword in my shoulder, introducing me to a whole new world of pain and agony. “I’ve never seen a human with missing limbs. Do they regrow like a lizard’s tail, is that why? How ‘bout we find out together, hmm?” It pulled its sword from my shoulder and lifted it over its head. Before it could bring it down to lop off my arm, however, a metal rod sprouted from its chest. The imp looked down in shock at the implement protruding from it, just inches from its heart. “What..?” it said weakly as black blood trickled down the length of the tube and dripped off the end. Its knees buckled and it collapsed to the floor, revealing the wild-eyed prisoner I had been chained next to standing behind it, a huge grin on his face.
“Been wanting to stick one o’ them with that thing for years,” he said. “See how they like it for once, you know?”
I rubbed my shoulder, which, amazingly, was already starting to feel better. I pushed myself off the wall and stepped over to the fallen imp. Blood was pooling beneath it. “Shouldn’t it be turning to dust now?” I asked. “That’s what they do, right?”
The man shrugged. “Them that used to be human bleed like the rest of us. ‘Cept the blood’s black, like they’re hearts.” He spat, the slimy wet blob landing on the imp’s back.
I bent down and pried the sword from the dead imp’s clawed hand, shuddering at its touch. Thankfully the sword didn’t disappear. “You mean this thing is like that guy from before? It used to be one of us?” I asked, studying the sword so I wouldn’t have to look at the imp.
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“It’s bleeding, ain't’ it? Don’t know which one of us it was. Men, women, young, or old, they all look the same after the change. Loose themselves too. Nothing left o’ the person they were in there.” He turned to watch the fight between Nergal and Nicole, which was still raging on the other side of the room. Nergal was currently hurling fireballs at her, which her shield had no trouble stopping but was preventing her from getting close enough to use her own sword. “She ain’t no better, from what I hear. They’re always complaining about her capturing more souls than they do. Let’s get out of here.” He turned and headed for the door leading to the corridor I had been brought in by.
“What about the others?” I asked. The rest of the prisoners were still being watched by the other two imps, who were staying well away from the battle that was now blocking the door they had been aiming for. They hadn’t seemed to have noticed their fallen comrade yet.
“Leave ‘em,” he said. “We only got that one ‘cause it was distracted. We can’t take two o’ them on and win. They’re too strong.”
“I can’t do that,” I said.
“Most o’ those poor souls are weaker than I am, newbie, and I’m barely standing,” he said. “The ones that ain’t are too scared to do anything. How you plannin’ on gettin’ them outta here?”
“I don’t know,” I said, gripping my sword tight. “But I can’t just leave them. Maybe Nicole can help once she beats Nergal.”
“That’s Mastemat, the Angel of Destruction. If she was once named Nicole, she ain’t no more. She said it herself, she’s here to steal us for Aamon. He’s even worse than Nergal.”
“She’ll help. I’m sure of it.”
“She serves Aamon, boy. She’s just like these imps now,” he said, kicking the dead creature. “Your sister’s gone.”
I shook my head. “No. She’s still in there. I saw it in her eyes. She doesn’t want to be doing this. You go ahead. I’m staying.”
My companion shook his head and looked back up at the fight. Nicole and Nergal had engaged each other with their swords again, each clash of metal on metal sending sparks flying. “You’re nuts, you know?” He sighed and looked at the door only a few steps away. “Nothing that way but a long climb up a smooth shaft. We’d never make it.” I smiled and clapped him on the back. He smiled back, right before a metal tube exploded from his chest.
“NO!” I screamed as the man fell. The imp he had stabbed was standing again, panting and glaring at us with hatred. The tube had been removed and the wound in its chest was almost completely healed up. I charged at it, swinging my sword as hard as I could, not realizing that my shoulder wound had also already healed. The imp jumped back, landing in a low crouch and growling like a feral beast. I paused to adjust my grip on the sword and see what this creature would do next. It held out its hand as if reaching for something but nothing happened. It growled in frustration and fixed me with hate-filled eyes. I realized it had been trying to summon its blade, but couldn’t; probably because I was still holding it. I gripped the sword tighter. OK. No matter what, I couldn’t drop it or it would be game over for me.
The imp lunged, claws out, and I swiped down with the sword, not really knowing what I was doing. I connected with the imp’s arm and felt a sickening jolt as the blade hit bone. The sword twisted unexpectedly and I nearly lost my grip. The imp screamed in pain and rage and I jumped back, barely avoiding a swipe from its other hand. The imp howled and grabbed its injured arm. I was surprised to see that it ended in a bloody stump, the hand now on the floor where it had fallen. I leaped forward, not giving myself time to think about my next move, and swung again, this time holding the sword with both hands, and hit the imp right at the base of its neck. I’d like to say that its head popped clean off at this point, but again, that would be a lie. I did succeed in stopping it, though, and after a few more, very messy attempts managed to sever the head completely. I kicked it, sending it rolling away across the floor. “Come back from that one, you little punk,” I said, breathing heavily despite the fight only lasting a few moments. (What I actually said was considerably more vulgar, I was a lumberjack, after all, but for the sake of younger ears, I’m trying to keep it PG-13.)
I turned back, suddenly exhausted (I guess I could get tired after all), and found my companion lying where he had fallen. He was fading much like the soul who had chosen to become an imp had been before his change. I dropped to my knees beside him, hoping to find some sign of life, but his eyes were glazed over, unseeing. He continued to fade, and a few moments later was gone, leaving only a sharp metal rod behind. Not even his blood remained. The sword in my hand suddenly vanished and I jumped in panic, expecting the imp to be attacking once again. But no attack came. I looked over to where it had fallen and saw that it too had disappeared, though there was no cloud of dust where it had been. A deafening explosion erupted behind me and I whipped my head around to see the last bits of a huge ball of fire burning out. Nergal had been in the center of it but seemed unaffected. Nicole was hovering a short distance away from him, her shield nowhere in sight, breathing heavily and sweating. She slowly descended, landing and folding her wings while taking a wide stance, holding her sword at the ready.
“Why hold back?” Nergal asked, sounding irritated. “There’s more to you than this. You are the destroyer of cities, ruiner of nations.”
“I’m not here to destroy a city,” Nicole replied, “only you.”
“Ahh…” Nergal said. “I see now.” He turned to look at the crowd of frightened and exhausted prisoners huddling on the other side of the room from where I stood, momentarily forgotten, it seemed. “Yes… you’re still only human after all, aren’t you? So… predictable and weak-willed. Unwilling to sacrifice what is necessary. I had hoped that destroying Aamon’s prized Angel of Destruction would give me something of a challenge, but, alas.” He turned back to Nicole and raised his massive sword. “Time to end this.”
Losing was not something Mastemat was accustomed to. Since her arrival in the Soul Divide fifteen years ago she had won every confrontation she engaged in. Early on, a few of Aamon’s archdemons had not been pleased with him bringing an angel into his service and rather than dealing with them himself he had ordered her to show them what she could do. She had not even known what she was capable of in those days, but very quickly found out. Those first few battles ended with her, alone, amid nothing but dust and rubble for a hundred yards around. She had been terrified, but Aamon had been thrilled. That was when he gave her the name Mastemat.
In the years following, she had learned to control her devastating power and thankfully Aamon had never forced her to use it to its fullest, instead using her mainly for gathering souls and patrolling his borders. But now, as she watched Nergal preparing to charge once again, she could hear Aamon’s last command ringing in the back of her mind; “Destroy Nergal or die trying. Level the whole city if you must, but he will not survive the day.”
At first, she had savored the thought of finally destroying one of the demon lords, even if it wasn’t Aamon himself. But now, faced with the task, of seeing the poor, defenseless souls huddled in fear and knowing what it would cost if she used her full power, she found that she couldn’t. Capturing souls and delivering them to Aamon’s dungeons was bad enough, and she told herself that she had no choice; which was true, she didn’t. If she disobeyed her master’s commands she would find herself acting automatically, her body taking over and completing the task on its own. Most days that was how she got through it. She retreated into herself and let Aamon’s will take over. But today she had told herself that wouldn’t happen. Today there was too much at stake. But here she was, once again unwilling to do her master’s bidding. She couldn’t sacrifice innocent lives, even if it meant killing a demon lord. Most of all, however, she couldn’t sacrifice her brother. “Yes, you can,” Aamon’s voice whispered in her mind. “With my help, you can do anything, my little Mastemat.”
“NO!” she screamed as she blocked another blow from Nergal’s greatsword, planting her feet and pushing back with supernatural strength. Her sword flared, the flames glowing white-hot, and slashed out. She caught Nergal in the chest, cutting a deep gash in his breastplate. One of the plates fell to the floor with a clatter, revealing a torn silk undershirt beneath. A small, bloodless cut was already healing.
Nergal backed up and examined the damage. “That’s more like it,” he said, sounding impressed. “But it’s not enough. We both know that.”
“Do it now,” Aamon’s voice whispered in hungry anticipation. “Bring the whole castle down on his head.”
“I won’t,” she responded – whether out loud or in her head, she didn’t know.
“But you already are, Malicious One. You already are.”
“No, please,” she whispered. But it was too late. She could feel the power draining from her, her hair standing up and the feathers on her wings fluffing out as the energy built up. She opened the visor on her helmet and turned towards her brother, who was still near the back door. He was standing there, watching them with wide eyes. Electricity began to snap and crackle all around her. “Run,” she told him, barely able to get the word out before she let loose with all the fury of heaven.
“Run,” Nicole said as electricity hummed and sizzled like she was a transformer about to blow. If the word alone hadn’t been enough to set my feet moving, the pure terror in her eyes was. Something had changed during the last exchange with Nergal. She was clearly struggling with something deep and primal, and it seemed she had lost. I lunged for the nearby door and barely got it open before all hell broke loose behind me. A brilliant flash of white accompanied a deafening explosion that caught me and pushed me through the doorway like a champagne cork. I flew through the air for far longer than I would have thought I could before landing hard and rolling until I crashed against a hard stone wall. Rocks and dust fell from the ceiling, covering me in a thick layer of grime. It hurt like crazy, but I barely noticed.
“NICOLE!” I screamed, jumping up and running back to the dungeon. It was nearly pitch black down there, but the corridor was fairly straight and level. The door to the dungeon had been closed in the blast and wouldn’t budge. I rammed it with my shoulder several times, putting my full weight into it each time. Once I was fairly certain something in my shoulder cracked, but I kept on going until the door finally gave way and opened just enough to allow me to slip through.
Inside was a scene from a war movie. Dust hung so thick in the air that I could barely see. Boulders littered the floor and nothing was left of the torture table or the racks of instruments but splinters and bits of mangled metal. Large chunks of the wall were missing in several places and all around me I could hear rocks falling. The floor shuddered and dust rained down. There was no sign of life, human or imp, anywhere. No. That wasn’t entirely accurate. Nicole was on the far side of the room, barely visible through the dust and revealed by the glow surrounding her. Nergal stood in front of her, his armor was cracked and broken in several places and his helmet was missing. He grasped her halo in one massive hand, lifting her off the ground as she hung limply, wearing only her white robes. There was no sign of her golden armor anywhere. Nergal held his other arm out to his side and his sword appeared in hand, aimed right at her heart. I gasped and lurched forward. As I did, something clattered at my feet. I looked down and saw the metal tube that had stabbed countless human souls, one imp, and one brave, slightly crazy, old man who had come to my aid in a moment of need.
“I told you that you didn’t have what it takes to defeat me, Mastemat,” Nergal said, his sword pointed right at her heart. No one had ever grabbed her by the halo before and she found that it hurt much more than she would have thought, given that it wasn’t even technically attached to her head. It was funny, the thoughts that ran through one’s head in the moments before they died. She wanted to think about her brother or the two dozen defenseless souls she had just sent to the abyss, but all she could manage to think about was how much it hurt having Nergal lift her by the halo. That, and the fact that he was defiling it with his filthy hands. At least her thoughts were her own again. There was nothing left she could do, and it seemed the Compulsion knew that. “You have cost me many souls today, but it was worth it to rid the Soul Divide of your stench forever.” He rammed his sword forward and Mastemat prepared herself for the Void. At least in the Abyss Aamon’s voice would never find her again, and that was a comfort. Maybe she could even find her brother there. Hopefully, he would be able to forgive her.
“NO!” someone screamed, and Nicole found herself roughly pushed aside, her neck wrenched painfully as Nergal held tightly to her halo. There was a grunt and she fell to the floor as his grip on it slipped. She pushed herself up and gasped. Her brother stood in front of Nergal, where she had been only moments before, Nergal’s sword piercing his heart. In her brother’s hand, he gripped a rod the demons used to extract essence from souls. He smiled, the light fading from his eyes rapidly, and jammed the rod into Nergal’s chest, right through the opening she had opened up with her last, desperate attack. Nergal cried in rage and smashed him aside with one blow from his huge arm.
Nicole screamed, her heart bursting into a million pieces. Energy she didn’t know she still had flowed through her and electricity crackled all around. Nergal spun to face her, the rod still in his chest. She grabbed onto it and pulled him close, releasing all the energy straight into the rod. His eyes widened and he started to say something. She never learned what, though, because a moment later he disintegrated into a cloud of dust. Nicole and the rod fell to the floor.
She tried pushing herself back up, but her arms failed her. Weakly, she dragged herself across the floor in a half-crawl, desperate to get to her brother. She found him a few feet away, already fading. She grabbed him in a bear hug, tears flowing freely. “Why?” she asked, sobbing into his nearly transparent chest. “Why didn’t you run?”
He placed a hand on her head and smiled, looking in her direction but not quite seeing her. “I couldn’t leave my big sister behind when she needed me, could I?”
She laughed through her tears. “Goofball. You’re older than me now.”
“Nah,” he said. “You’ll always be my big sis.” He held his hand up, squinting at it. “Guess I’m going to the abyss after all. Come find me there, why don’t you? I bet it’s not as bad as they make it out to be.”
“Of course I will,” she said, sniffing. “Even if it takes a thousand years.”
“It better not,” he said, and then was gone.
Rumors of that day still circle the Soul Divide. They speak of armies invading cities, titans clashing, and earthquakes leveling castles. They speak of a radiant angel rising from the rubble, declaring her victory over the great demon lord Nergal, and claiming all his land and possessions in the name of her master, Lord Aamon. It was the day the war for control of the Soul Divide began.
It was the day the Angel of Destruction was turned loose upon the land.
End of Chapter Six
