Chapter 2
Alabenthos contextualized Brauxis like nobody’s business.
Where the Steward Angel had been potent, broad, and intimidating, Alabenthos, his master, was other.
The angel was huge. Easily three yards tall and almost as broad, it was terrifyingly intimidating and utterly awe-inspiring.
His bulky alabaster and ivory full plate looked like a sacred relic and was adorned and edged with flourishes of platinum and gold.
Huge wings of dove gray and robin’s-egg blue bulked up behind his powerful shoulders, and his helm was blank.
A broad halo hovered in the air above his brow.
No neat circlet of metal, this halo was alive and ever revolving, platinum and whole where Brauxis’ had been partial.
Alabenthos.
So powerful, so revered, that he actually spoke with Nenya of the Depths, one of the Archon Angels from whose company the Fallen Angel was said to have once belonged.
Sam stepped out from behind Harald, chin raised, and though the angel said nothing, his displeasure was evident in the same way heat from a roaring oven was felt. Harald resisted the urge to squint as he gazed upon the angel, to raise a forearm to shield his face.
“Alabenthos,” said Sam, not quite able to hide the quaver in her voice. “We’re back. I used your Artifact to return. And brought my friends.”
You have brought two Demon Seeds into my domain. The voice shook the air. For centuries I have fought with every ounce of my being to prevent this very eventuality.
“They aren’t evil.” Sam took a step forward, hand outstretched to forestall Harald. “You know this. You evaluated them on the 28th Level. You gave Harald a Mote of Humility. They’re different.”
I allowed them to persist. I did not invite them into my home.
Vic and Nessa appeared in the archway, expressions alarmed, only to stagger to a stop.
“I apologize if I’ve upset you.” Now Sam’s voice did grow strong. “But they are my friends, my allies, my companions. I couldn’t leave them behind.”
“I’m sorry if my presence offends,” said Harald, moving forward and dropping to one knee. It was easy to kneel before this being. “But my heart remains true. I want to help the angels in the Celestial War. I want to defeat Vorakhar, the demons.”
You have bestowed the Mote upon Samantha. The angel considered, then angled his faceless helm to Vic. You yet retain yours.
Vic smiled uneasily. “What can I say? I’ve been burned in love. My heart has grown hesitant.”
“Vic,” hissed Nessa, and elbowed him.
What brings you hither? demanded the angel.
“We fled Flutic.” Sam took another step forward, claiming the focus.
“We tried to upend the social order. Change the nobility for the better. We… failed. They cared only for their own power and privilege. We had to fight our way free, and with Gold-ranked raiders after us, I used my Alabaster Disc to escape.”
Your naivete amuses me, said the angel. For centuries mankind has refused the Fallen Angel’s call. Humanity’s nature is self-centered, short-sighted, and self-serving. They are incapable of collective altruism, even if, ultimately, it is in their own interests.
Sam clenched her jaw for a moment, then stiffly bowed her head. “So it would seem. But we’ve come to aid in the War, as Harald said. If we can’t change Flutic, maybe we can make a difference down here.”
Your presence is always welcome, Samantha Tuppins. As is Evernessa Ermarine’s. The dwarf is beholden to his thark?n and thus will not fight without him. The demon-kin, however, must leave. That is the extent of the mercy I am willing to extend.
Desperation seized Harald by the throat, and he rose to his feet. “No.”
The angel considered him. No?
“I won’t run. There must be a way to convince you of my quality. You are wise beyond all measure. You must know of a way to sound my heart.”
Why should I take the risk?
“Because you are losing this war.” Harald ignored Sam’s hiss.
“For how long have you fought? Centuries? Taking an angel-kin here, an angel-kin there, but what’s the end result?
The demons hold five Thrones. I’m well aware of my own ignorance in this matter, but the facts speak for themselves.
The demons take greater risks, and it’s paid off.
They have the momentum. How long until they claim the sixth Throne?
I’ve learned enough of what’s going on to know that Silenthros has the other demons on the run, and soon he’ll claim the whole of the dungeon.
Then what? What happens when all seven Thrones are lost? ”
You presume much, demon-kin.
“Sure. But I’m not wrong. Am I?” Harald stepped up alongside Sam.
“You recognize my potential. You know whose son I am. You’ve already stared into my heart.
You know my intent. So, test me. Use me.
Let me turn the tide of this war. Let me make a difference.
And if I ever disappoint?” Harald grinned.
“I’m sure it won’t cost you much to snuff me out like a candle. ”
“For the record,” said Vic, “I’m both not insulting you nor insisting that I know better than you do. I’m quite, quite happy to exit stage left and wander for a while in the wilderness.”
You speak as if you were 16th Level but are only 8th. Your presumption is staggering. But such bravado demands to be tested. Very well. I shall place before you a small trial. If you can win through, I will deem you sufficiently worthy to continue proving yourself.
Harald rolled his shoulders back and grinned. “Sounds good. What’s the test?”
You shall face my Steward, Brauxis, in battle. If you slay him, I shall know your true worth. Lose, and I shall know you a braggart.
Harald’s grin slipped away. “You want me to kill your Steward?”
Sleep. When you awaken, I shall send for you, and you shall be brought to the arena.
And with that, the angel disappeared in a pulse of white light.
“Wait. What?” Vic ran his hand through his hair. “He wants you to kill that big angel guy?”
“It’s a trap,” said Sam, sounding stunned. “You can’t defeat Brauxis. He’s too strong.”
Nessa moved to the settee and lowered herself slowly upon the cushions. “He’s giving you enough rope to hang yourself. Sam’s right. It’s a trap.”
“Which means we’re gone,” said Vic. “Grab whatever valuables you can carry, and let’s head out into the dungeon. There are lots of more entertaining ways to commit suicide than fighting that huge angel-kin.”
“He’s not an angel-kin,” said Sam numbly. “He’s an Emanation.”
“Whatever,” said Vic. “Darlings. Everyone. Focus. For some reason Mr. Alabenthos has taken our being demon-kin the wrong way. Out of respect for Sam here, he’s not just smooshing us immediately, but giving us a chance to be smooshed if we refuse to leave.
So, let’s leave! Honestly, it’s a lesson easily learned: if a tart or strumpet refuses your advances, go find another floozie to bamboozle. Let’s just go.”
“No,” said Harald. “I… I’m not going to just run.”
Vic threw up his hands. “Why? Why not? Harald, for the love of every big-hipped whore, why?”
“Because…” Harald blew out his cheeks and tried to summon the right words.
“I’m… he’s right. Alabenthos. I’m walking a narrow path here.
The Seed’s only growing more powerful. If we just head out into the dungeon without a purpose, I’m liable to lose myself to it.
I mean, my dad’s out there, right? And he came back to get revenge for my mother.
If even he couldn’t hold true to vengeance, then what hope do I have? ”
“You won’t fall,” said Sam sternly.
“No. Because I won’t put myself out there. I’m going to fight for the light, for the angels, no matter what. Alabenthos has set this trial before me. I won’t run from it.”
“You heard her, darling,” drawled Nessa, trying to sound mocking but failing to hide her own fear. “This Brauxis is too powerful. We’re on the 33rd Level. This is far deeper than anything we’ve ever faced. And Brauxis will no doubt be only too pleased to crush you for his master.”
Harald thought of the massive angel. How he had crowed in delight as Shadowpaw had leaped upon him. How he hadn’t budged an inch.
“Harald.” Sam’s voice was pitched low. “I… we can go. I’ll leave with you. We’ll stay together. There are other angels. Maybe if we accomplish something great in the dungeon, maybe if we come back with some kind of trophy, Alabenthos will think differently.”
Kársek stepped out of the shadows of the hall beyond the archway.
“Whatever you decide, you know I shall remain by your side. But perhaps I can make a point. We dwarves are punctilious and precise. The nature of oaths are bound by the words used to utter them, and contracts are scrupulously made. Thus, it may be worthwhile to examine what the angel said and question our assumptions.”
“Oh, save me from legalese,” moaned Vic. “We heard him, Kársek. He said kill the Steward or be branded a braggart.”
“His words,” persisted the dwarf calmly, “were that he would know Harald’s true worth if he slew the Steward.”
“And?” demanded Vic.
“He did not say that was the requirement to pass his test. He merely said it would reveal Harald’s true nature. Slaying his noble Emanation might lead the angel to consider Harald a monster.”
Harald stared at the dwarf. “You’re saying it’s a trick?”
Kársek shrugged. “At no point did Alabenthos state what the winning condition was. Slaying the Emanation will reveal who you are, failing to do so will condemn you. You asked to be tested, did you not? Perhaps the test is other than he was leading you to believe.”
“That’s true,” said Nessa with dawning admiration. “Kársek, well done. But that still leaves us in a quandary: what must Harald do to pass the test?”
The dwarf shrugged. “Perhaps he need only fend off the Emanation or defeat him honorably but refuse to slay him. Perhaps the angel will judge Harald on how he comports himself in combat.”