Chapter 29
Lyndon really didn't need that jolt of pure panic upon seeing all those disgusting scarabs pouring out of every crack in the walls, ceiling and floor around them.
Malthael quickly pulled his hands away from his still injured back, and turned to their new adversaries with determination. Lyndon, barely able to move yet, scrambled against the wall while shouting curses, bumping his painful back into the stone. That did not help to stop the stream of profanities.
The scarabs did not advance however. They stopped some two meters away from the duo, then in one line they parted, giving way to their apparent king or queen or whatever these little beasts had for a ruler. The giant scarab took the crossbow into one pincer on his way, and carried it back to Lyndon with surprising care. The scoundrel stared at his weapon lying before him as the large insect retreated back into the two-meter radius, and glanced almost expectantly at the human.
- Disgusting beasts – growled Malthael, but he too did not make a move.
-… I think they might be controlled by someone – Lyndon breathed, not daring to speak louder.
A few tension-filled minutes passed but nobody made a move on anybody. The scarabs looked positively bored, and soon even Malthael mirrored that look with his posture, turning back to Lyndon and placing his hand on his back once again.
- The hell are you doing?! – Lyndon hissed at him.
- Healing you, demonspawn.
- We've got bigger problems than that!
- No. They are not attacking.
That was a good point there, giving Lyndon a pause. The scarabs were clearly bored out of their primitive minds, but they did not leave or advance. At some point, a smaller commotion broke out somewhere in the back but the king scarab quickly put an end to it with a loud screech.
-… Are they controlled by someone? – Lyndon mumbled, growing uncertain of his previous hunch.
Scarabs did not act this way, but surely, bewitched scarabs would not start something as natural as a bit of scuffle out of boredom. They would have been unmoving statues that just awaited orders, not go after their own heads more or less.
Something occurred to Lyndon as he wrecked his brain. Back in the Bloodmarsh, as they fled for their lives from the maddened Johanna…
-… Quiet sent them – he concluded out loud, recalling the horde of bogans that had been summoned by the little angel.
- The abomination talks to beasts.
- Quiet can do a hell lot more than that. I have a feeling he is stronger than you have ever been, Death – Lyndon angrily bit back at the angel.
- Impossible. He is weak and foolish.
- He sure as shit survived more than you ever did! If you look through my memories, at least have the decency to pay attention to them! Have you not seen what shape he was in when I found him? – the scoundrel snorted angrily, not even caring about the fact that he was basically encouraging the angel to keep up his habit.
- Irrelevant. I do not care for it, nor have I seen it – Malthael said simply.
Of course he hadn't. Lyndon just wanted to kick the asshole wherever it hurt the most for angels. Malthael would only search for painful memories, or ones full of doubt and fear, to exploit them. At times like these Lyndon truly had to wonder if angels and demons really were that different, or they just liked to get stuck on the "general appearance" talking points…
See you soon. Promiss.
Lyndon snapped his head up and looked around frantically as much as he could from his pose. He couldn't pinpoint where this sound came from exactly.
- Quiet? Quiet! – he called out, sure that he had heard the little angel's voice just now.
- It is quiet, demonspawn – Malthael mumbled.
- Not that, you dense waste of space! – Lyndon barked angrily at him. – I heard him! He told me something!
- I heard nothing. You imagined it.
- Oh fuck off, will ya!
Lyndon tried to push himself off from the ground but his straining back protested and sent him right back where he was. Malthael undisturbedly continued his pathetically slow healing. The scarabs kept looking bored.
Lyndon bit back a curse at his injury. He wanted nothing more than to run off in a random direction and search for Quiet until he succeeded. He was sure he had heard the little angel's voice, however soft and distant it may have been. What did he mean by "see you soon"? Were they close to each other?!
Yet that message carried a foreboding aura with it. It sounded like a farewell, even if temporary. It made Lyndon's blood freeze and he struggled harder to get up.
- Stop, demonspawn!
- Go fuck yourself, Malthael! I need to see Quiet right the hell now – the scoundrel shouted at the angel, swatting his hand away.
He refused to acknowledge that his vision was getting blurry from tears.
An uneasy ripple ran across the scarab horde around them, and low but tense chattering filled the air. Clenching his teeth, Lyndon pushed himself up from the ground to drag himself forward. The scarabs barred his way, however, pressing their bodies close to form a low but pretty much endless barricade. Lyndon wanted to snarl at them to get out of the goddamn way, but something grabbed a hold of the end of his coat and he was pulled back. The king scarab almost sorrowfully chattered at him, holding him back. The scoundrel kicked the ugly beast straight in the face. The scarab staggered back but refused to open its pincer.
Before things could get really ugly, Malthael struck out and finally made contact for the first time: he pinned the struggling human against the stone by the throat and kept him firmly there. Lyndon tried to free himself, but even moving the arm proved to be impossible.
- Stay – hissed Malthael at him angrily.
- Let me go! Why the hell do you care?!
- The scarabs cannot kill you before you kill me.
Lyndon's eyes flashed up green with rage and he kicked again, sweeping Malthael's legs from under him. The angel crashed into the ground with a grunt. Without thinking, Lyndon teleported, every fiber of his being focused on finding Quiet.
Maddening pain exploded into his back so suddenly that he didn't even have time to cry out before the darkness swallowed him.
oooOOOooo
See you soon. Promiss.
Lyndon found himself rushing through a dark place, not unlike where Malthael had had to slug through while he was finding his way back to the Crystal Arch. The scoundrel was shouting Quiet's name, but only the echo answered, and the occasional whisper of "Promiss".
What happened to his little firefly?! Was he in grave danger? Was he bewitched? Did someone try to tear them apart?! Lyndon shuddered at all the terrible possibilities. He stopped, spun around, trying to spot something, anything that would give him a point of reference, but only darkness greeted him.
- Quiet! – he shouted with all his might. – Where are you?!
Promiss.
No. No! The scoundrel grabbed his own head in distress, nails sinking into his skin. They mustn't separate, they must remain together! How could he keep the little angel safe otherwise?!
How would he be worth anything then?
With dread, Lyndon began to run again, perhaps to escape from these thoughts.
He was nothing, his life meant nothing. He was only here for one thing: to keep Quiet safe. Whatever the reason may have been, it didn't matter.
A soldier must have a clear goal and a clear reason for everything he does!
Lyndon was no soldier, yet he finally knew his goal… unfortunately.
You know your purpose yet, kiddo?
Yes. Guard Quiet. Why? Because otherwise Lyndon would have no reason to exist. That was the big answer to this mystery. Lyndon had no family or home to return, no friends who accepted him into their fold. There was nothing for him, he was worthless, a thieving little blight on the world that had more than enough problems without his meddling as well. At least with this little angel, he was somewhat useful. Without Quiet, Lyndon honestly saw no reason to go on. There wasn't even Edlin or his family anymore to be a motivator.
The scoundrel stopped his aimless run and listened with gasping breath. He could no longer hear Quiet's farewell. He slowly sank to his knees, hugging himself, he curled up into a tight ball, not even trying to fight his tears anymore.
This was it. There was no reason to go on any longer. Not even the little angel thought him worthy anymore.
- Enough, Guardian. Snap out of it!
The booming voice jolted Lyndon out of his despair so hard, he fell backwards and had to push himself up from the invisible ground with his elbows.
Before him, suddenly stood the oddest creature he had ever seen: it looked like an Ivgorod monk with lines of pure light criss-crossing the muscular body, liquid gold robes. Only the head was that of a campfire that almost revealed a face from its flames at times.
- Wha—who?! – Lyndon stammered, scuttling backwards on all four.
- Do not tell me you have adopted that fallen angel's pathetic method of "not even going to try"! You are much better than this!
- Who are you?!
- Ytar, Saphtev god of sun and fire, creation of the Allfather.
- Wait—
- Before you ask: yes, all the gods of Sanctuary exist, and yes, I know who you are, and yes, the Allfather is… partly… the being you call "Quiet". So I know what I am talking about.
Lyndon stared at the newcomer, who radiated a welcoming warm light. He gulped audibly, trying to regain his thoughts. The sudden and quite bored info-dump of the newcomer shocked him even more than his appearance did.
-… Where the hell did you come from? – he finally asked, finding his voice, if only for this one stupid question.
- From the planes surrounding Sanctuary. That is the home of the gods.
-… Y—you are serious, aren't you?
- Yes! – the campfire lit up brighter in anger. – Why is it so difficult for everyone to wrap their head around this?!
- You are kind of a mythos, to be honest – Lyndon stated softly.
- Bah! These limitations, stopping us from actually proving our existence… they will be the death of me one day, I swear. I already had to violate every single one of them today, to make sure the world does not topple over into chaos!
Lyndon fell silent, staring at the god before him. He should have been far more stunned than this at this reveal, but he was so exhausted mentally that he could not muster the energy for it. He stared before himself emptily, his mind slowly returning to his plight, and how horribly true it was.
He was worthless now.
- Why are you even here? – he asked meekly. – What does a god care for a speck of dust like me?
- Guardian, you are selling yourself much too short! Who has protected the Allfather up until this point from even himself? Who has been teaching him the right way to live?
- Lot of good, that did to me, didn't it?! – Lyndon shouted angrily, snapping his head back up. – I have done all that because they had been my purpose, plain and simple!
- Are you absolutely certain, mortal? – the campfire was "tilted" to the side, almost sliding off the shoulders.
- Yes! Yes, for fuck's sake I am – Lyndon stood up, not even caring about his tears anymore. – Look at me, Ytar! Aren't you supposed to be the patron of monks?! Do you see anything in me that they have?! Strength, resolve, a sense of purpose?! Anything at all?!
Ytar remained uncharacteristically silent as he observed the struggling human before him.
- I have been a "Guardian" of Quiet, because there is literally nothing else in my life! I latched onto it, just so I could have some worth. And even in that, I fail spectacularly! I let him get hurt in Kingsport, I let him slaughter innocent people because I hadn't seen the signs, and now I was the sole reason we got separated from each other! I am a goddamn mess, an absolute failure, not even my brother's family was safe from my actions! – Lyndon rambled on, grabbing his hair in agitation.
He suddenly let his hands fall down and mumbled hopelessly:
- I cannot blame Quiet for leaving me behind.
That was it, he finally admitted it to himself.
- So… you are worthless, you say. You have no purpose outside of protecting the Allfather? – Ytar finally spoke up in the silence.
- Yes. You wish to rub it in, god of monks? Go ahead – came the weak reply.
- Why did you rid Kingsport of that madwoman Rea then?
Lyndon paused for a second.
- Your buddy, those Seven jade-figures asked me – he grumbled.
- You could have ignored it – Ytar shrugged. – They had not ordered it, and even if they had, you weren't their underling. You could have refused. So why didn't you? Visiting Kingsport was not a crucial part of protecting the Allfather, you could have just skipped it and headed straight for Westmarch.
Lyndon fell silent, staring blankly before himself.
- Instead, you got inside Kingsport. You made sure you left a good amount of money for that old friend of yours so she could restart her life, should things get back to normal again. You released a tortured Treasure Goblin from Rea's grasp, even though there was nothing to gain from that. You faced and killed the monster Rea became, who had been hunting citizens. Why? What did you achieve from all that, regarding your "mission"?
-… Vengeance? – the scoundrel said in a low voice, much much less unsure of himself than he had hoped.
That answer somehow sounded wrong, even to him.
- Giving money generously to the brothel's mistress was out of vengeance? Setting free the one you call "Luther" was out of vengeance, Guardian? – the campfire most certainly raised an eyebrow at this.
- I… I do not know – Lyndon admitted softly, losing the last bit of firm ground from under his feet.
- You were partially right in your ramblings, scoundrel: you do have differences with my monks. You are undisciplined, you waver inside, you have trouble accepting your true nature. You cannot take lectures and criticism well. You are sometimes clumsy, and your "method" of mastering your blooming powers is rather painful to watch – Ytar explained, earning a smoldering glare from Lyndon.
- Anything else to add? – grumbled the scoundrel.
- Yes. You are also resourceful, cunning, loyal and reliable. You are empathetic on a level not many people are. You have a strong sense of justice, you are not afraid to stand up for those you care about. You are strong in your own strange way, you use your powers the best way possible in every situation. You are brave and your resolve is unbreakable when truly put to the test.
-… None of that are true now – Lyndon casted his gaze to the ground once more.
- Everyone, even monks have their abyss of fear and darkness, from where they must climb out themselves from time to time. You are no different – Ytar shook his campfire-head. – You had many similar lows in your life, yet you conquered them all. 'Tis but another bump on the road, albeit a wild one. Despite this, you are still a good man with good intentions.
Lyndon remained silent for a while, trying to think with his mind that was still mostly numb from despair.
Stop whining and do something to make it better, damnit!
He shook himself slightly.
- Quiet said his farewells – he pointed out. – I do not blame him for leaving me, but—
- That was only temporary. Have you not listened to the words, Guardian?!
- I did, but… why?
-… I cannot claim to know the Allfather's mind. But I can tell you he does not wish to leave you behind. His decision is of a good reason, whatever it may be. And he still loves you, fear not. He will do whatever he can to be reunited with you as soon as possible.
Lyndon could only hope the god was right.
-… Do you know… how Quiet is? – he asked meekly then, glancing up at the god.
- I thought you'd never ask, Guardian – Ytar seemed to smile impishly.
Suddenly the muscular body collapsed into itself and the campfire came crashing down onto the ground. As it landed, a flash of light erupted from it. Lyndon staggered back in alarm, but by the time he blinked twice, it was all over.
The proud large campfire now took on the form of a small miserable one, with a few twigs and stones surrounding it. Its light did not carry far, but it was enough to illuminate the carpet-covered stone floor around it, the plates of food and the jug of water, and the slumbering Quiet and Tyrael around it.
Lyndon's heart fluttered a bit as he laid eyes upon his little firefly.
Quiet was a bit ruffled, and he slept curled into a tight ball, but he seemed unharmed. On the other side of the campfire, Tyrael snored softly on his back, El'druin standing by in his grip.
They were together, and they were alright. Lyndon couldn't imagine better news right there and then. He sighed in relief, longingly looking at the illusion.
It was clear they weren't actually here: half of their bodies, which was not touched by the weak light of the fire, seemed to be missing, and their form sometimes shimmered as the flames flickered. Quiet mumbled Lyndon's name and turned around, so that only his back was visible now. Still, Lyndon couldn't help but crouch down next to the little angel and pet him on the head. His fingers passed through the mirage, of course, still his relief was so great, he felt like his legs would give in any minute.
- See you soon, Quiet – he whispered through his tears of joy. – I promise!
He stood up and drew back from the picture. The small campfire melted back into the large one, and in a flash, Ytar reappeared fully.
- Thank you – Lyndon nodded his head, wiping his tears away.
- The least I could do, for your services to our Creator – Ytar returned the gesture in kind. – Listen, Guardian. The path ahead is difficult, as it always is with life. You cannot lose sight of the truth, though: you are a good man, and a hero of Sanctuary. Let that guide you, even when you cannot personally watch over the Allfather.
- I am no hero, Ytar – the scoundrel waved the comment away.
- Yet you risked your neck against all sorts of monsters, by the side of the Nephalem, and even after her, to save people. What do you call that?
- Suicidal fool?
- That is often an important job requirement for heroes – Ytar nodded, grinning through the flames.
Lyndon snorted bittersweetly at the remark.
- I… do not know where to go now – he admitted then. – And I have this idiotic archangel on my back. Any ideas?
- I would suggest you find your way out of that labyrinth first. Your watersack was trashed in the fight – Ytar grumbled. – As for the angel, I cannot really help with that. I hate angels, especially that one right there…
- He is an unpleasant one, true – the scoundrel agreed absentmindedly. – Guess I will have to figure something out for that.
- A painful death for him, I would hope.
-… No promises. But the idea is tempting – Lyndon smiled wryly, to which Ytar grumbled in agreement.
Silence settled down on them.
- Seriously, though… Thank you, Ytar. I really needed this – Lyndon looked at his visitor in gratitude.
- Even my monks need a little support from time to time. I got very good with these pep-talks over the centuries – the god answered. – What you need to do now is let that damnable angel heal you fully, then set out and find your way to the surface. The Allfather shall make sure you will be reunited one way or another, and us gods will keep watch and help as well… if we are able.
- Alright. Thank you again – Lyndon nodded. – This is goodbye then, Ytar?
- Yes. For now, at least.
- Take care then.
- Stay strong, Guardian. You don't even know how important you really are to Sanctuary – Ytar waved in farewell.
Before Lyndon could ask him what he meant by that, everything melted away around him, and he woke up, dangling from a cliff.
oooOOOooo
Angels had curse words. That was a fine lesson for the day.
Lyndon couldn't really understand what Malthael was chittering on his mother tongue (… Crystal tongue? Arch tongue?), but it sounded very angry and barely restrained. Despite lying on a narrow cliff above a literally bottomless pit, being half-paralyzed by his aching back, Lyndon smiled wryly at the curses flying at his head, as the archangel staged a hasty rescue mission with the scarabs.
During his disastrous teleportation, Lyndon did manage to travel a few dozen meters before his injury knocked him out cold, and he ended up landing on a cliff somewhat deep inside an abyss. Now, he was lying on the cold stone, awaiting Malthael's arrival. The archangel looked absolutely ridiculous: he was using a rope made of scarabs to descend slowly. The little insects hissed in displeasure but they held surprisingly firmly onto each other.
- What's the matter? Your wings not working, angel? – Lyndon chuckled weakly as Malthael got into arm's reach.
- You are not worth the effort, demonspawn – the archangel hissed menacingly, but still he reached out and grabbed a hold of Lyndon's outstretched arm.
- Who else would kill you then down here? The Flesh Golems?
- Silence – Malthael boomed irritated, making Lyndon erupt in uncontrollable chuckling.
The scarabs signaled to each other, and they began to slowly but steadily haul the two travelers out of the hole. All the way, the scoundrel couldn't help his soft laughter at the situation. His relief that Quiet was not alone, that he was more or less well at least physically, really did lift a great load off of his shoulders. He just didn't know how to express it in that moment, considering he was mostly unable to move.
Outside of the hole, the scarabs staggered out of the way, completely spent from the effort. Malthael lied Lyndon down to the floor and began healing him again.
- Do not move, demonspawn, or so help me Anu…
- You certainly seem livelier than when I found you, Malthy – Lyndon commented impishly.
- That is not my name.
- Maybe I should do this more often to keep you on your toes.
- Don't. Even… – Malthael hissed agitatedly, but then he just let the sentence go, realizing it was futile anyway.
So he donned his usual moody silence and went back to the healing, refusing the rise to Lyndon's jabs. The scoundrel figured that was fair enough, and he too fell quiet, pondering on his vision. He could tell it was no mere dream. He actually met a god of Sanctuary in person, and had a conversation. Seeing Quiet by the fire was the happiest moment he had had in this despicable underground city up to this point. He refused to think that was only a pointless hallucination. That all happened. No questions.
Now, Lyndon had another small step to focus on from his list of never-ending tasks: get healed.
Then, get out of Corvus by any means necessary.
He could do that, Lyndon thought as he sunk back into a well-needed, dreamless sleep.
Phfew, it's finally here! My internship (that's coming to an end, at least temporarily) takes up most of my time these days, and I also had to make a tougher decision regarding this chapter.
Remember when I mentioned that joke-chapter, scheduled for April 1st, then postponed to an unknown date? Yeah. I planned this chapter to be that one. But... as I wrote it, and got around half-way, I realized it had no place in this setup. On April 1st it would have made sense and even worked, but outside of that day, it would be just confusing, or downright harmful to the pacing and the general tone. So I have decided to ditch this idea completely and started the chapter from scratch. I also think I will not actively seek a way to post a joke chapter. Should the opportunity arise once again next year, and I ACTUALLY have the time to prepare for it in a worthy manner, I shall take it. But this is not a promise, merely a possibility.
As always, you cupcakes are a true treasure with your patience and understanding. ^^ Please welcome our newest crewmember, darkhelmetj, and check out her Malthael-centered story, "In All Things Light and Dark". She deserves some more recognition.
Thank you and take care!
Lore & Trivia Corner
This chapter was mostly inspired by this YouTube song: watch?v=BZvty-jyIw
