Chapter 22
Getting fly-tackled by an "alarm-screeching" angel the second you crossed the doorstep was not fun, no matter how big or small that angel actually was.
Alarm-screeching was something every angel could do, even huge and robust ones like Imperius (even though he would probably die first than do it). It was a high-pitched powerful signal designed to warn of incoming threats, carry for large distances, and maybe even stun nearby enemies for just enough moments for the angel to engage or retreat.
As Tyrael quickly realized, it also had pretty unhealthy effects on the human ears. Inarius literally crushed into his legs, screeching from the top of his lungs, looking up at him with those (for some inexplicable reason) visible red eyes, small arms locked around his knees. The fallen angel could feel his auditory canals painfully resonate with the voice.
- Inarius, shut up! – he shouted, covering his ears. – What has gotten into you, wretched child!?
- LEEENDOOONNNNN! – Inarius shrieked and began dragging Tyrael by the edge of his tunic. – Something is bad with Leendonn!
- What—did you do something to him?!
- Come! Something very bad! He not wake up!
Wait, really?! Inarius was worked up about Lyndon refusing to wake up from a nap, or something? Tyrael grumbled under his nose, begrudgingly following the little bundle of shrieking panic, if only to stop him from going crazy again. It was only when he saw Lyndon passed out on the floor besides his bed, his skin almost snow-white, did Tyrael finally shake off his testiness and jumped there, panic flooding him. He somehow dragged the scoundrel back to his bed and quickly listened to his chest. The heart was still beating, thank Anu! Lyndon was also breathing, even if not as deeply as he could. Out of ideas, Tyrael began gently patting the cheek, gradually raising the force of it, just hoping he could achieve something with it.
- Lyndon? Lyndon! – Tyrael called his name, remembering what Sophie told him once about how to wake up fainted people.
He shouted at him, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him forcefully. Lyndon actually made some unidentifiable noise at this, and twitched. His right hand was being held captive by Inarius who helplessly fumbled the fingers, a steady stream of tears running down on his invisible cheeks.
- Leeeendoooonnn – he whined in a low voice.
The Traitor of the High Heavens… honestly looked so lost and vulnerable right there and then. His small wings folded under his cape, red eyes full of worry and uncertainty. Tyrael found himself positively struggling to remind himself who the little angel actual was. Instead, Tyrael focused back on Lyndon.
- Lyndon, can you hear me? – he asked loudly.
Unintelligible mumbling.
- Lyndon! Try to follow my voice.
It took almost an hour to gently guide Lyndon back to the world of the living, but eventually the scoundrel opened his eyes and blinked owlishly, propping himself up on his elbows slowly. Inarius, loudly sobbing, scrambled up onto the bed and snuggled into his chest, faced buried in the shirt.
- Here, drink this – Tyrael offered a glass of water he quickly brought into the room.
- W—what is going on? – Lyndon moaned, sitting up completely, clutching his head with one hand.
He murmured a weak thank you as he took the glass, then downed the drink in a single gulp.
- Gah, my head! – he took a deep breath trying to control his pain. – Feels like someone's using it as an anvil.
- What happened while I was away? – Tyrael asked, trying to ignore the crying baby angel who looked like he was trying to merge with his caretaker, he was clinging so hard to him.
- I—I think I had a—Shit, the vision! – Lyndon rubbed his eyes, the events slowly coming back to him.
- Wait, vision? – Tyrael blinked.
-… I can see the future – the scoundrel admitted uneasily.
There was a pause. Tyrael stared at his guest, dumbfounded.
- You—what?
- I see the future… sometimes. Usually when I'm about to get attacked or killed. And it is only for me. I can't see others – Lyndon hurried to explain, looking like he wanted to move on as quickly as possible. – Anyway, so—
- Wait, wait, wait! You see your own future and you can change it?!
- I guess, yes?
- And when did you want to tell me this?! – Tyrael glared at him angrily.
- Myriam's sight is far more impressive, I can barely see how I would get killed in the next minute or so – Lyndon grumbled, patting Inarius on the head.
- Myriam's premonitions could not be changed. They came true no matter what the hell happened – Tyrael took a sharp breath, standing up from the bed.
He couldn't believe Lyndon! This man could literally see and change his own future, and he forgot to mention that detail?! No creature was free of Fate… except maybe Johanna who messed up the entire Prophecy of the End Days.
- Anything else I should know about?! – he hissed between his teeth, trying to keep his anger down.
- I can teleport, but I tend to miss the target… And I can change my color, apparently…
- You what?!
Lyndon gazed down at the blanket of the bed, and soon, parts of his body, clothes, skin and everything, began to take on the same color and even the same fabric-like pattern. It got stuck on his arms and legs, but it was a pretty disturbing sight. It wasn't like complete invisibility, far from that, but in the right situation it could be the perfect camouflage in all of Creation. Tyrael could feel his eyes grow wide at the phenomenon, which quickly melted away.
- That is… strange – he admitted.
- Thanks, like I didn't know – Lyndon frowned at him.
- That is not what I meant.
- Sure you didn't – the scoundrel barked back, quickly switching into a defensive stand.
Tyrael bit down on a curse. Lyndon could be so damn stubborn and easy to set off! In this half a year since the fallen left the Nephalem's group to establish the Horadrim, he really forgot how much of a pain the con man could be at times.
- Fine then! When you stop pouting like a child, I will be down in the library – he snapped, turning around and marching out of the room before he said something he would regret later on.
oooOOOooo
Tyrael, Archangel of Obvious. Lyndon really didn't need to be reminded that he was indeed different and weird. "Pouting like a child", look who's talking!
He took a deep breath, pushing his displeasure aside for the time being. He can get back to it when he followed Tyrael to the library. But first…
- Quiet? – he looked down on his charge, who silently glued himself to his chest pretty much. – Little firefly, it is alright. I'm getting better. My headache is lessening.
- I was so skerd – Quiet mumbled, slowly letting go of the human and looking up at him with sad red eyes. – You skerd me.
- I know. I'm sorry, Quiet.
- Do no do that again.
Lyndon snorted with humor. That sentence almost sounded like it came from Edlin, after Lyndon had performed a daring stunt on top of the roofs and almost fallen off as a result. He had a habit of scaring his older brother many times.
- I'll try, firefly. Alright?
- Alright.
The scoundrel's good mood quickly evaporated however as he remembered his vision. He was almost certain his sudden horrible headache and fainting came from the fact that he forced his sixth sense too much. It was simply not strong enough to comply with his wishes. He had to wonder if he could train at it, like he did with his other powers. But first, there was a much more pressing issue.
- Quiet, listen to me – he placed the angel onto the bed before him and bent down to his eye level. – This is very important, okay?
Quiet clasped his hands in nervousness but nodded.
- While we were sleeping, I saw the future. Something big will happen, and it will probably be very scary too – Lyndon explain dead-seriously. – I did not see you by my side.
Now those red eyes were positively flooded with dread, so the scoundrel reached out and gently held the tiny fingers with both hands.
- I promise you that I will try my very best to stop that from happening. I will do everything I can to stay with you, alright?
- Promiss?
- I promise.
- A—alright.
- But, and this is very important, Quiet, I may not succeed – Lyndon went on. – We may get separated, regardless of what we are doing. If that happens, I want you to promise me something in return.
- Yes?
Lyndon reached to his belt with one hand and pulled out the black dagger in its sheath. He held it out to Quiet.
- I give you this. I taught you how to fight with it. It will help you stay safe, if I'm not around.
Quiet hesitantly and with shaky hands took the weapon.
- Do you remember what I have taught you? – Lyndon asked softly.
-… If it is a hu—man, and not an evil human… then do no kill, unless there is no other way – Quiet hiccupped, tears filling his eyes as he looked down at the blade.
- What are the other ways?
- S—sker them away, not hurt them too bad… stopp them from coming after us… sneak past them, knock them out.
- Exactly – Lyndon kissed him on the top of his head. – That's my firefly. Promise me you will do just that, if we get separated.
- I po—promiss.
- Thank you, Quiet.
The little angel finally burst out in tears and reached out towards Lyndon.
- I do no want you to go-o-o! – he wailed.
- Oh, Quiet – Lyndon sighed, scooping the sobbing bundle up and rocking him gently. – I do not want to leave you either, believe me. But the world is often not about what we want. Many times things happen that we did not wish for or did not expect. Those times all we can do is keep our focus and try to make the most of the situation. Those times we have to be brave and quick and clever to make it work.
The little angel cried into his shoulder, even his warm wings wrapped around Lyndon as best as they could.
- You are my brave little firefly. I know you will do good, even if I'm not around to help you – the scoundrel cooed. – You will make me proud, I know it—
- INAAAARIUSSSSSS!
Aw hell, that was Tyrael, from somewhere downstairs if the roar's muffled volume was to be believed. Quiet buried himself deeper into his hug. Lyndon's eyes flashed up green. He had no idea what Tyrael's problem was with his little firefly (it sure as shit wasn't that part about trying to destroy Sanctuary, he could easily tell that), but this would end now!
Still rocking Quiet, Lyndon got up from the bed and marched out of the room and down the stairs.
He found Tyrael standing in one of the many large halls of the mansion. Before him stood a row of pillars supporting the ceiling, but each had been greatly changed, either in material, form or both. Oh… so this was where Quiet had practiced his powers. Honestly, these new posts were pretty, what was Tyrael's problem?
- Look what he had done! – the fallen angel shouted, pointing accusingly at them.
- I'm looking. They are very impressive – Lyndon retorted sharply, the corner of his mouth curling up.
- We are damn lucky the ceiling hadn't caved in yet!
- Tyrael, relax. I'm sure Quiet knew what they were for and didn't change that part.
- His name is Inarius!
- His name. Is. Quiet. Get this through your thick skull!
Tyrael threw his hands in the air in his frustration.
- You are impossible, scoundrel!
- Look who's talking, angel! You call him a madman?! Seriously?! – Lyndon snarled back, showing the still sobbing Quiet who tried his damnest to sink into his shirt. – Look at him, damnit! Are you honestly seeing a monster and not a child?!
- I know him, Lyndon! Better than you ever will. He's my brother.
- Oh don't give me that bullshit that you were such a great leader that you knew everything about all of your soldiers! He was your underling, don't tell me you were buddy-buddies—
- He was my actual brother, you moron! – Tyrael almost roared at him at this point. - My rhythm-sibling. The Arch had created him with the same frequency as mine. For whatever damned reason, I could have never told, but it did!
There was a brief but heavy pause as Lyndon processed the information.
- You… you gave your own little brother to Mephisto as a bargain chip?! – he finally shrieked, absolute bewilderment and anger stunning him to his core.
His hold grew tighter on Quiet and he partially turned his torso away from Tyrael, as if trying to shield the little angel with his body.
- That was his due punishment for all the sins he had committed! For the safety of this world, it had to be done.
- Are you out of your fucking mind?! – now it was Lyndon's turn to borderline roar. – You gave your brother to one of the most sadistic pieces of shit this Creation has ever seen! And when the fucker broke his word and attacked Sanctuary anyway, you did not even bother to rescue Inarius from his clutches?!
Something flashed before his eyes, grey smoke and orange light, but he simply couldn't nor did he want to make it out. He was so damn angry, he couldn't care about anything else right there and then!
- I was a bit busy saving your kind from annihilation! – Tyrael retorted.
- Give out the fucking order then! Tell the Council! Have them lead the mission while you are busy stringing those stupid mages around! You had some goddamn 300 years after that quest, no?! The hell were you doing then?!
- Hindsight is so convenient, is it not!? – Tyrael spat. – You must certainly know well how the Angiris Council works, scoundrel.
- Maybe not – Lyndon hissed in a venomous voice. – But at least I understand what it actually means to be a brother!
Quiet whimpered miserably in the hug, clutching the dagger to his chest. It looked like the air was about to metaphorically blow up from the tension between Lyndon and Tyrael.
And that's exactly when it decided to blow up, quite literally.
The explosion flung them in the farthest corner of the hall, debris almost burying them completely. Sparks flew and in a moment fire raced across the edge of the room, quickly spreading beyond its doors. Most of the changed pillars got completely obliterated, causing the ceiling to finally collapse in. The two men had flown in separate directions. Tyrael somehow got luckier, avoiding being buried by the planks. He struggled to his feet, head ringing from the collision, but only managed to kneel up.
- Lyndon! Lynd—cough cough—Lyndon! – he shouted, squinting to see through the sudden thick smoke that choked the entire hall.
A figure appeared in the smoke and at first Tyrael believed it was the scoundrel. But no, the man was far larger and wider, and wore incredibly heavy armor.
- Kormac? – he coughed, looking up at the warrior in sheer disbelief.
The knight looked like he just rammed his way through three separate stone walls… which he probably did just now. His armor was full of scratches and smudges, it was even dented in many places but that did not seem to bother him at all. He stared down at the fallen angel for a seemingly endless second, before extending one gauntleted hand.
- I am sorry for the… mess, Tyrael – he had said, voice surprisingly flat and uninterested. – Couldn't be helped.
- What—what are you talking about? – Tyrael struggled to his feet, accepting the helping hand.
Instead of answering, the Templar turned away, clearly looking for something. His eyes narrowed as he finally spotted Lyndon near the other end of the hall, who just now dragged himself out from under the debris with the help of Quiet.
- Lyndon – Kormac called out, his voice suddenly holding an edge.
He pulled out his sword. The scoundrel whipped his head into the knight's direction, eyes growing wide with fear. Immediately he grabbed Quiet and pushed him behind his leg. Tyrael stood behind Kormac, unable to make sense of the scene before himself.
- Lyndon. Step away from the monster – Kormac said slowly, weapon raised. – It is alright, Johanna told us everything.
- She told you what exactly? – the scoundrel barked back angrily, over the sound of the fire. – How to wreck the houses of your former allies?!
- Just let go of Mephisto and come here – Kormac told him, sounding like he was talking to a tantrum-throwing child.
- Mephisto? – Tyrael and Lyndon said in unison.
- Johanna explained everything – Kormac went on, not lowering his weapon. – You had found Mephisto in the Realm of Hatred, and he had taken you under his sway. That's why we couldn't find him, because you smuggled him out of there.
- What the hell are you talking about?! – Lyndon cried out. – It wasn't Mephisto I've found down in that pit! Johanna is lying to you.
- He truly did pull you into his influence – Kormac grimaced. – Just… step away from him, and come to me. We can make this right, Lyndon. Try to tune out his voice in your head.
- Does he look like a demon to you?! – Lyndon shouted angrily, showing the terrified Quiet. – Demons have wings made out of light?! Since when?!
- You see him as an angel. Johanna told us about the glamour he could be using – Kormac mumbled.
Something was very wrong with the knight. Next to the almost bored-sounding voice, his eyes were… glassy. As if there was some kind of fog just behind his irises. Lyndon felt dread spreading all across his body just by looking at it.
- Lyndon, that is not an angel, it is a monster in disguise – Kormac went on. – Trust me.
- Like hell I'll trust you! Go fuck yourself! – Lyndon snarled, stepping before Quiet once more, determined to shield him somehow. – You were tricked by Johanna, that's what this is all about!
Kormac turned to the stunned Tyrael.
- You see him for what he is, do you not, Archangel of Justice? – he asked.
Tyrael blinked, then shook his head. Quiet's form became blurry all of a sudden. Was it the heat, the smoke, the orange light, or did he really start to look like a small demon? The fallen angel stared, but his eyes seemed to disagree on what to see. His vision seemed to struggle with something.
- Tyrael! – Lyndon called out, pleadingly.
- We need to separate them, before Mephisto can regain his full power once more – Kormac said calmly.
- Tyrael, you know this is not Mephisto! This is your brother!
- Help me achieve that, Tyrael. We must keep humankind safe.
The fallen angel desperately shook his head, then cast his eyes to the ground.
- I am sorry… – he mumbled.
The Templar turned back to Lyndon, sword ready to strike.
-… Kormac – Tyrael finished, glancing up.
Then he struck with all is might, straight at the neck of the knight. Kormac collapsed without a sound into an unconscious heap. Immediately the haze left Tyrael's vision and he could see Quiet clearly once more. Whatever that witchcraft had been cast over him, it originated from the Templar
Lyndon took a shaky breath.
- Thank you – he whispered, greatly relieved.
- Don't thank me yet – Tyrael grimaced as he rushed there. – We need to get out of the city as fast as we can. Johanna cannot be far behind.
- Why didn't Haile warn me, damnit?! He promised he would give a heads-up – Lyndon hissed.
- Maybe Johanna chose a stealthier approach…
- She's a Crusader! Crusaders can't do stealth!
-… True that.
Lyndon hissed a steady and colorful stream of curses before shaking his head.
- Quiet, you still have the dagger? – he looked down at his charge.
- Y-yes – came the meek reply.
- Good, hold onto it well!
- You gave him a dagger?! – Tyrael glared at him.
- Shut the hell up, Tyrael, seriously! – Lyndon barked at him. – If Quiet is truly such a world-destroying power incarnate, then it doesn't fucking matter whether he has a weapon or not, now does it?!
He did not wait for an answer, but almost instinctively teleported back into their room, hitting the mark dead on. He grabbed his new shiny crossbow and his backpack from the bed, feeling the whip-cane and the large sum of money in it, then teleported back into the ruined hall.
- Leendonn can puff! – Quiet stated to Tyrael, pointing at the scoundrel.
- Yeah, I noticed – the fallen angel grumbled back.
- You need anything from here? – Lyndon asked him.
- No.
- Then let's get going. We have the Slayer of the Prime Evil and Death Himself to avoid. No big deal, eh? – the scoundrel smiled wryly.
They dragged the still unconscious Kormac out of the burning house onto the main street. In the distance the firewatch's bell rang and people quickly drew back from the mansion's proximity. Tyrael, Lyndon and Quiet did not wait for the firemen to arrive, they disappeared into the maze of the Westmarch alleyways.
Lyndon & Tyrael - best fucking team composition ever!
Finally something is actually happening! Jeez! Action's kicking up and we are getting back on track! ;)
I actually like Kormac very much (fuck it, I like every Follower), both his voice and his personality. Not sure what some people have against his voice actor, the guy did a phenomenal job in my opinion. Okay, so maybe not Troy Baker (Lyndon) levels of awesomeness, but that's a bit unfair: there are few voice actors in the world who can match his talent. "Not being as good as Troy Baker" does not mean a voice actor is bad, by any means.
However, I DO have somewhat bad news to share with you cupcakes. :( You may recall I mentioned at the beginning of Act II that I am planning an extra special chapter for April 1st. Well... that plan is pretty much screwed at this point. Back then it looked like I was going to reach that point in the story where I can fit that special chapter into the flow seamlessly on that day. Then shit happened, University and Artist/Writer's Block mainly, and I fell behind schedule, so to speak. I'm still planning to have that special chapter later in the story (because the idea is just too appealing to me to let it go!), but it won't be on April's Fools.
Sorry about that!
Anyway, so as always, thank you all for your patience! ^^
