Chapter 8 #2
“The one and only. I’ve a request. A petition.
My companion, Nessa. She needs to return to Flutic to confront her father.
It’s the only way forward that will allow her to grow and continue being the vital member of our company that she’s been.
I’m her boon companion. If she says she needs to return, I will go with her. ”
Your task lies below on the 41st Level.
“Sure,” said Harald, tamping down his annoyance.
“But Nessa is our delve captain. You want me to be a good boy, right? Virtuous, kind-hearted, and all that? Well, being there for Nessa in her time of need is exactly that. The right thing to do. I can’t overstate how important she is to me, both as a dear friend and fighting companion. If she needs this—”
Very well, cut in Alabenthos. When do you wish to depart?
Harald blinked up at the mighty form. “You agree?”
I do. Rovarik has spoken highly of Evernessa Ermarine. I am cognizant of all that transpires in my domain. This is a worthy mission, and should only delay your descent by a day or two. Why would I forbid it?
Because you’re an angelic ass who—
Harald cut off that line of thought. In truth, why had he thought the angel would be set against it? Perhaps because he’d been so ornery and paranoid before, had treated Harald poorly, imprisoned him, assigned him a gaoler—
But was Alabenthos evil? Wicked? No. Perhaps Sam had been right. Perhaps when it came to Harald and his Demon Seed, the angel lord was careful, distrustful, but in other matters…?
“Well then.” Harald put his hands on his hips and swallowed the rest of his arguments. “Thank you. Thank you very much. Can you transport us to the surface when everyone in my team awakens?”
Yes.
“Well, good.” Harald bobbed his head as if cementing some kind of deal with his own agreement, and felt a little foolish. “Then I’ll go get some rest, too. We’ll come back here when we’re ready to go?”
That is well. Good night, Harald Darrowdelve.
“And, ah, good night to you, Lord Alabenthos.” For a moment Harald lingered, still feeling wrong-footed, but then he sketched a half-bow and strode away.
Exeros’ mote followed after.
* * *
They gathered before Alabenthos’ throne the next…
waking period? Time was truly messed up in this perpetually lit domain.
Regardless, Harald was showered and ready, his gear cleaned and mended, his stomach full of the nutritious if bland repast the angels enjoyed serving, and his companions were arrayed by his side.
Sam wore her customized suit of leather, chain, and iron plate, form-fitting and lethally flexible, while Nessa wore her black leather outfit, also magically restored.
Only Kársek had refused the tailoring services of the angelic servants, content to appear clad in his tatterdemalion yellow overcoat and worn backpack.
I shall open a portal to Flutic, intoned the angel lord. I shall not impose a deadline for your return, but rather trust to your conscience and diligence. Fare thee well, and may you find the peace you seek, Evernessa.
Who bowed low, her face flushed from the attention.
Seraphina, Brauxis, and Rovarik stood off to one side amongst other worthies from the level. Sam had taken a moment to say goodbye to her mentor, while Nessa had steadfastly ignored Rovarik’s level, brooding stare.
“Thank you,” said Harald. “We’ll be quick. Quick as we can. We’re well aware of our obligations.”
Then safe travels. The surface has grown perilous. And Alabenthos gestured, causing an oval of swirling white fire to appear to one side.
Heart buoyed, excited to be quit of this eternal level of gray marble and self-righteous angels, Harald inclined his head, winked at Kársek, and led the way through the fire.
The abyss greeted him in the disconnect. For a moment all was tangential, every point equally distant, his mind warped and body distended by the transition, and then he emerged into pale afternoon sunshine and parkland, the trees carefully tended, the grass trimmed, an ornamental pond to one side.
He knew this place. Season Park, set only some four blocks away from the ancestral Darrowdelve Manor.
And this pond, this small green space carved out amongst the shrubs within sight of the running path?
Where he’d once seen a preacher of the Church of the Fallen Angel haranguing a knot of listeners.
His heart thudded in surprise and dismay and nostalgia. This was as close to home as he was liable to get, short of actually walking back to his manor. His manor that was lost when he failed to pay the crippling debts he’d accrued over the years of louche living.
Moving forward, he saw a pair of figures jogging along the crushed gravel path.
One was fit, light on her feet, blonde hair braided and coiled on the crown of her head, while the second was tall but overweight, his ugly mug blotched red and white as he heaved and stumbled and fought to not pass out.
Then they were gone as if they’d never been.
Memories. That felt like a literal lifetime ago.
The others emerged through the portal behind him, hands resting lightly on their weapons, then relaxed as they took in their environs.
“Home,” he said simply, meeting Sam’s gaze, and to his surprise he felt tears prick at his eyes.
Her smile was sad and sympathetic and pained all at once.
“Season Park?” Nessa moved warily to stand on the path and look both ways. “Angelic Quarter. Just about the heart of the city. My father’s estate is out past the walls. A country villa.”
“A good walk,” said Harald, shoving his emotions down and joining Nessa on the path. “At least a couple of hours?”
“About. But you wanted to check in with Anna first, didn’t you?”
“She’s not too far from here.”
Nessa gave a curt nod. “Then let’s get moving.”
Season Park was empty. No joggers, no nurses pushing pram carts, no youths enjoying a late afternoon picnic on the lawns.
Silence.
“Eerie,” said Sam, hand resting lightly on the pommel of her blade.
Harald resisted the urge to summon Chyron’s Scourge. An empty park was nothing to fear. But it felt wrong.
They emerged onto Baldric Avenue. Normally busy with the carriages of the nobility and rented hansom cabs, it now felt as abandoned as the park. Though not completely; here and there a pedestrian hurried about their business, caps pulled low, clearly intent on not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“No guards,” said Kársek. “Used to always see one on the street corner there, before.”