INDESTRUCTIBLE

II: ARRIVAL :II

The only blessing nightfall offered Tyrael and his charge, was relief from the blistering heat. He had watched the sun over the hours slowly drift across the sky, lower and lower until it found the horizon line and disappeared. The sky changed from a bright blue to a beautiful mix of orange, gold and indigo before darkness finally took over.

He knew next to nothing about the woman he saved, nor why Diablo had tried so hard to kill her. Tyrael supposed that the demon hadn't needed a reason to go after anyone, it was quite likely he had simply seen her, presumed the woman was an easy target and pursued her.

Still, a lesser human would've been frozen in fear at the mere sight of the demon lord, yet this woman had fought until unable. That had to amount to something, she had courage - and that had no doubt contributed her survival.

He had saved her from the temple, withstanding rock and stone as they plummeted down around them. He had used all his might to protect her with a divine shield, lucky enough that the barrier hadn't collapsed from the weight. Though the event had been strenuous, Tyrael was now exhausted.

He glanced down at the woman again, wondering about her strange weapon and even stranger garb. It looked somewhat like cloth, thinner than the cotton shirts mortals ordinarily wore, yet clung to her frame tightly. She didn't seem to match this place, whatever it was and wherever they were. Exactly where had she come from, and why had it brought her along with himself and Diablo?

"All in do time," Tyrael muttered to himself, hesitating as he marched over a dune and spotted a small village nestled in the barren wastes. He had no idea what time it was, the only hint was the lack of light from the distant houses, the townsfolk were sound asleep.

He had been trekking for hours on end, apparently. It was late enough that everyone was sound asleep, unaware of the strangers wandering their desert.

The woman stirred in his arms, eyes opening barely a smidgen, the only hint of her conscious state was the small groan she gave as she came too. Tyrael had seen this before in countless humans, she wouldn't be awake for long.

"You're safe." He stated, "Diablo is gone."

His answer was enough for her, satisfied with his statement, she let fatigue and terrible wounds drag her back to unconsciousness.

With some sort of reprieve on the horizon, Tyrael extended his magnificent wings and swooped down the dune, sand skirting up behind in his wake as the angel hurried the last stretch.

The village was quiet, there was the low mulling of a farm animals: camels and sheep in an enclosed pen near one of the larger homes. Here it seemed that a bit of nature had managed to survive, with hardy trees and a thin brook running through the fenced of area. In the centre or town was a well, built a long time ago if the bricks were any clue. Tyrael's boots gently touched down on the hard dirt as he looked around.

If Diablo had been here, there were no obvious signs. The angel didn't feel any demonic taint nearby: the gentle breeze was cool and refreshing, void of any evil influence that had run rampart on Sanctuary. Instead, Tyrael's senses picked up on something different, he turned his attention to a different pool of water - far better kept then the one in village square.

He neared it cautiously, the water in it was crystal clear and glimmered with a faint, silvery light. The stones that formed the well had moss and deep green vines clinging to its bricks. Gently Tyrael set the woman down so she was leaning against the stone, and then he knelt, dipping his gauntlet into the water. If it was a trap, it had passed Tyrael's scrutiny. The liquid ran through his fingers, pouring back into the well.

"Healing waters…" He murmured, continuing to investigate the strange pool until he found a shallow silver bowl nestled in the healthy grass next to the well. He grabbed the bowl and dipped it into the water, then brought the magical liquid near his face.

It hummed with a magical touch that was very similar to the healing elixirs of Sanctuary.

Tyrael glanced at the woman, her breaths were shallow and her wounds severe. He doubted that anyone in this village could help her, he had seen too many similar traumas among the mortals. Best they could do was give her a bed to die comfortably in. The angel brought the edge of the bowl to her lips and watched as through some unconscious effort, she parted her lips.

Carefully, he tipped the container and let the water slowly trickle into her mouth.

It was as he suspected, her breathing instantly improved as she drank the magical water. If he had of been able, Tyrael would've smiled at the small turn in their fortune. She would still need to rest, but at least now with the aid of this divine influence, she would survive the night.

He heard the scuff of dirt under boot and swung around, unsheathing his mighty sword El'druin and bringing it to bear against a foot-soldier's scimitar. The soldier looked stunned, his wide brown eyes starring up at the shining, silver and gold blade that dwarfed his own.

Tyrael rose to his full height and easily overpowered the man, using his weapon to bring the footman's crashing to the ground. The angel kicked offender back into the others, sending them all tumbling into the dirt.

With El'druin firmly pointed at the soldiers, Tyrael spoke.

"I do not cherish the thought of violence, but if you raise your blade again, you force my hand." Tyrael's voice boomed, the men glanced at each other as they tried to recover. "What reason do you threaten us?"

The guard eyed the mighty wings that came from Tyrael's back. They blazed with an energy all their own, casting the dark square in a blue-silver glow. Nervously he looked back at where the angel's face should've been.

"Strange things have been happening," the man stammered, staring at one of very things he now described. "The sky tore itself open, and then there were stories of monsters and…" He swallowed hard, "fallen angels, roaming the desert."

Tyrael looked at men, there were six in total - and all looked absolutely terrified. He lowered the sword somewhat, his voice thick with irritation. "What's your name?"

"Adnan." The soldier fumbled with his words, "Please, we meant no offense. We were just trying to defend our families."

Tyrael slowly slipped the sword back into its glimmering scabbard. "I am not in the habit of killing innocent men." He looked between them all. "I only require a bed for this woman to rest in." Tyrael watched as they exchanged glances. "She encountered this 'monster' you spoke of."

Perhaps wishing to make amends for his original offence, Adnan offered his own home as lodging. He led the way to his home: a modest house, one of the five that surrounded the village square. He lived alone, with little evidence of a family or personal items. He had given the wounded woman his bed, as it was the only one in the house, and then joined Tyrael in the main area, which was lit by a small fireplace.

Tyrael examined Adnan, and he was sure the man could feel it. He was a little on the short side, though he had strong stocky build his clothing couldn't hide. He was clean-shaven, and his garb was loose and white, to try and lessen the desert heat.

He reminded Tyrael of the nomadic tribes that wandered Caldeum's deserts, even his sword that he had recovered from the ground was sharply curved and elegantly designed, much different from the blades of Westmarch and Tristram.

"Who is the woman?" Adnan finally broke the silence, hoping that with his earnest question, he would also dismiss the tension.

"I do not know," Tyrael admitted, "I saved her from Diablo."

Adnan's expression turned to confusion. "Who?"

Now Tyrael knew he was not in Sanctuary. "He is a demon lord from the Burning Hells."

Adnan grimaced. "He's here too?"

"Yes," Tyrael now posed his question. "He is no doubt the monster your people speak of."

"Oh," The soldier swallowed hard.

"Where are we?"

"Luxoria." The soldier hung his head, saddened. "Or what's left of it."

"What happened?" The angel questioned. He could faintly sense the death on this land, it permeated up through the ground.

"Not many remember," Adnan admitted, "any that do reside on the Floating Sands, go there and maybe they can tell you why our world fell." He shifted uncomfortably. "Most who live here, don't remember."

"Floating Sands?"

"A floating island, home to the Sky Temple in homage to the ancient god, Ka. Our King, Markus, also reigns what's left of Luxoria from there." Adnan explained. "Markus had the city built around the place of worship."

"Many ancient places hold power," Tyrael noted, wondering if there was a way to return home. "Do you know if this Sky Temple holds such potential?"

Adnan honestly had no idea, his expression told Tyrael so. It had been such a long time since anyone stirred the god Ka to act, that many were like him - they thought themselves abandoned by both their queen and god. He hesitated to answer the angel's question, fearing that he would not like the answer.

"There are legends of the power the temple once held, but Ka has fallen into a dreamless sleep. Whatever power it had, is lost with the sleeping god."

It wasn't a new task to Tyrael, stirring ancient magic and supernatural forces. He himself, was something akin to legend in Sanctuary. To encounter another world with a similar idea, was reassuring.

"Is there any way to wake this god?"

Adnan's expression was darkened. There were tales of Ka, stories passed down from the elders. Shrines scattered about the land, where his guardians waited for the bravest of men. There were bound to be a few on the sands.

"If you can access the old shrines, Ka may yet rise."

†

Diablo had never put much stock in a grand scheme, he had lived under the impression that he was one of the very forces that created a mortal's interpretation of fate. Yet when Tyrael had arrived and saved that woman, he had stopped and given it a thought. What were the chances that this strange place, would drag both he and that blasted angel here? There was an intelligence to this design, even if Diablo couldn't see it fully yet.

"I will not be someone's puppet." He growled in a low, furious tone as he slunk through the sewers of the city above. The scent wasn't the worst he had even smelt, there were far worse things in the Burning Hells, here was nothing special.

He moved through a larger circular cavity and stepped into a sort of central point. Walking along side the flowing water, watching the dirty liquid rush down the slanted runs of the corridors. He continued until he stood in a far drier, old access way. Above him was the streets of a city, protected from the outside with large, formidable walls and armed towers.

"Lord Diablo," a voice came from the shadows, followed by a form. A man, with purple skin and long, sharp pointed ears. His eyes were covered by a black cloth, a strange quirk but one Diablo had chosen to ignore. "Is it as we suspected, the city is built around the temple."

Diablo snorted. "What of the power I sense?"

"It must be coming from inside, but it has been sealed." Illidan replied coolly. "King Markus refuses to open it, as he says it will offend their god, Ka."

The demon chuckled, recalling his perversion of King Leoric and the calamity that had ensued. A mortal's mind was a simple thing, any and all creatures felt fear, this monarch was no different from the others. Diablo would twist his thoughts until the only reprieve was to open the gates. If he could access temple and find the source of power, he could learn more about this place.

And if Markus proved resilient, then he would be removed. It was a simple process.

"I will find a way into the castle, and twist this king to my will." Diablo stated, "it seems whatever controls this place has brought in others. A woman… and an angel."

Illidan frowned. "An angel?"

"Yes," Diablo snarled, frustrated. "Tyrael, an archangel from the High Heavens. He will try to stop us," the demon narrowed his fiery eyes at his servant. "You will not let this happen."

"And what of the girl?"

"She will not last long," the demon responded, moving to head deeper into the sewer. "The wounds she sustained were grave, though I will not make the mistake of underestimating Tyrael… beware of her too, Illidan. She has abilities I have not seen before."

Illidan bowed his head. "As you command."

Major changes for second half of chapter.