Chapter 24
Quiet wished he could lose consciousness. Only the inky darkness did not want to comply.
He saw it all. He saw the crazed Johhana fall upon them with the full vengeance of the world. He saw the madness in her eyes, before it was swallowed by that sharp blue flash. He felt his own hand slipping out of Leendonn's. At the same moment, he felt the steel grip of Teeriel latch onto his other arm.
Then… they flew. In one direction, and in a thousand. Finally they collided hard with stone which cut short Quiet's desperate scream. Teeriel tumbled to the ground, the back of his head oozing blood. Quiet smacked into the floor hard, pain exploding into his small body, but even then he did not faint. Something inside him kept him awake, screaming "Danger! You must be ready!". Fingers clutching the hilt of Leendonn's dagger, Quiet lifted his head from the ground with great struggle.
A few meters away from him, Johhana lied on the floor, her armor weighing her down. Blue sparks ran across her body, and she cursed loudly, trying to push herself up from the paved ground.
- Cursed Horadrim magic! – she hissed.
The blue sparks were clearly keeping her down, but their light was fading rapidly, the mad woman slowly but surely winning against them. Quiet froze up with terror, unable to look away, or do anything at all. Her aura was huge and foreboding and… something else, that caused even more tension inside him.
He knew this aura.
- Ergh. You always were a nuisance. Defiling my plans at every turn – Johhana snarled at him, tilting her head up with some difficulty.
- I do not know you! – Quiet shouted, desperately scuttling towards the unconscious Teeriel.
- I'm surprised you don't – Johhana snorted, failing to push herself up from the ground. – Whatever the hell has happened to you, it must have messed you up completely. Made you even more helpless than ever! Tell me, Inarius, why do you struggle so much?
Did everyone but him knew that name?! Quiet hissed menacingly at the woman, pouring his disdain for her into the voice, little wings flaring up as a warning.
- Is killing every mortal really that important to you, after all these eons? – Johhana went on. – Three thousand years and you still want the children dead?! If only Leendonn didn't fall under your sway back in the Realm of Hatred! It would have been so easy. Clean and swift. But no, you had to bewitch him and pull him under your control. I would have hoped you hadn't had the power after eons of constant torture. But you just had to prove me wrong, yet again.
Quiet had absolutely no idea what the woman was talking about. The earliest memory he had of Leendonn was a mere sentence:
Everything is going to be alright.
Only this one voice, not even a glimpse of a picture. Although it was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of hope and safety. The happiest memory Quiet could recall. And this woman made that sound like it was a sin.
That made him angry.
- Why are you working against me? Do you not wish to see the Heavens and Hells pay for everything they have done to you?! – Johhana asked accusingly, struggling onto one knee. – Or… you do not remember… at all.
- I do not know what you talk about, bad woman – Quiet frowned, rising to his feet, clutching the dagger.
He was angry, angry enough to force down his fear. This mad human attacks them, separates them, then she has the nerve to accuse him of wanting to kill everyone.
- You kill! You hurt us! You lie! You are bad! – Quiet shouted, pointing at Johhana. – I'm not bad! Leendonn taught me to be good.
- You are making a fool out of yourself. Perhaps I overestimated you – Johhana raised an eyebrow, shakily standing up.
There were barely any blue sparks on her at this point, but Quiet was beyond the point of caring. He too stood up, locking eyes with the woman. He had the feeling this was not the first time they had a stand-off like this… even though he was also sure he had never seen the huuman before their adventures with Leendonn.
- You should no be here – he hissed, this strange sentence slipping out of his mouth as if it had an actual reason.
- Inarius, darling, you should have learnt a long time ago that nothing you've ever done is perfect. In fact, they are all full of flaws. Ironic – Johhana snorted with glee.
- Go away.
- Aw, giving me the cold shoulder already?
Quiet felt the surroundings shift around him.
- Go away – he repeated.
Johhana must have picked up on his magic as well, because she frowned at him.
- We will meet again – she promised. – You shall not kill the children.
- I do no kill. I am not bad. You are – Quiet stated softly.
Johhana lunged forward, but the ground quickly swallowed up Quiet and Teeriel, transporting them deeper into this dark place.
oooOOOooo
Tyrael woke with a distant throbbing in his head, feeling his skin mending and the injury sealing on the back of his neck. He groaned, trying to get up from the ground where he lied on his belly.
- Stop moving! – came the shrill voice above him. – You are not well.
- I—Inarius? – Tyrael mumbled, still completely dazed.
- My name a—is Quiet! – barked the little voice angrily.
- Shut up, my head hurts…
- I made it better. You shut up!
- Lyndon, just tell him to be silent, alright?
- Leendonn is not here!
Wait, he wasn't? Why—
Johanna.
- BY THE HEAVENS! – Tyrael shouted in terror as his memories came back, including the ones about the Falling Sword attack of the Crusader.
He pushed himself up from the ground, nearly headbutting Inarius in the process, and looked around in alarm. An unpleasantly familiar chamber greeted him: Rakkis' Tomb. Everything was the way he remembered it: the four catwalks above a bottomless pit, with four ways out of here. The tomb still held the marks of Malthael's rampage: the dried up skeletons of the Horadrim and the ruined pedestal with its slashed golden ornaments laid in the exact way Tyrael had left them when he dragged himself out of here, with a bleeding hole in his chest.
- What—what are we doing here? – Tyrael breathed.
It didn't look like Johanna was here with them. Did they escape her wrath?
- Johhhana wanted to hurt us. I got us away from her – he heard Inarius from his left.
Tyrael turned to the small angel. Inarius had a steady stream of tears running down on his invisible cheeks, but the red eyes shone with anger and determination.
- Johhana is bad! – he declared angrily, wiping his tears away. – She separated us!
- Oh by Anu, where is Lyndon then? – Tyrael struggled to his feet, his vision swimming. – Did he teleport away? Is he down here somewhere?
- I don't know…
- We have to look! Come on—
That's when the situation finally sunk in: he was alone, stuck with…
- … Inarius – Tyrael mumbled as he glanced back down at the angel.
Why did it have to be like this?!
- I am not Inarius! – the little angel hissed at him, voice filled with anger.
- You can drop the façade, Lyndon is not around here – Tyrael grumbled, annoyed by how stubbornly the mad angel stuck to his little innocent act.
- You are stoopid!
- I wonder about that, since you can't fool me apparently.
- Essholl!
-… What did you just say to me?!
Inarius went "pth-th-th-th-th" at him again, crossing his arms and turning his torso away.
- Inarius, I swear by—!
- I AM NOT INARIUS, SPAWN OF ANU! – roared the angel so suddenly that Tyrael stumbled back, almost falling from the catwalk.
The shrill voice turned into something much older and far more powerful, as the red gems flashed up on his body. It only lasted for a second, however, and Inarius' next sentence was back to normal:
- You are bad and mean! I did nothing wrong! I did not harm you, I made your head better! Why you so angry?!
Honestly, Tyrael began to have his doubts about this being only an act. Inarius, or any other angel for that matter, was just too proud to sell himself as such a colossal and childish fool, especially for this long.
… But then what was that outburst back there?
- Listen, Inarius… – Tyrael began in a low, deadly serious voice.
- My name is—!
- I do not know what has happened to you, or how you have managed to fool Lyndon for this long. But make no mistake: I know who you are. I know what you have done in the past. And by Anu, I will strike you down myself, if I see you raise a finger against Sanctuary. Do you understand me?!
There was a heavy pause between them. Inarius gulped, clearly fighting back tears. His little wings quivered with agitation, his fists shook. Tyrael easily and unwaveringly held his piercing wrathful gaze.
- I hate you – Inarius finally said in a low voice. – You are just like them. You want to make me bad. I will not be bad. You will not win.
Tyrael had no idea what the angel was blabbering about, but Inarius already stormed past him, stomping towards one of the exits that did not lead to the upper world.
- Inarius, where are you going?!
- I find Leendonn. You do whatever you want, essholl! – Inarius spat, glancing over his tiny shoulder.
- You'd better stop calling me that, you little fetchling! – Tyrael barked strictly, marching after his surprisingly fast partner.
- Sonuvabeech!
Tyrael had to literally stop himself from kicking the mini angel over the catwalk and into the abyss. He closed his eyes, pursed his lips and uttered a soft prayer that Lyndon had it better than them, wherever he might have ended up.
oooOOOooo
He slogged through darkness, feeling as he was knee deep in mud. It was hard to forge forward, and there was literally nothing around him. No point of origo, no landmark, nothing. Doubt gnawed at him. Was he going the right way? He felt like he had been wandering for years without stopping and yet, no sign of his destination showed. Perhaps he should change directions. Maybe turn just a bit to the right or to the left and continue that way.
Was he even worthy to find his path?
He shook himself angrily, pushing forward. Of course he was worthy! Where did these foolish questions even come from?! Just keep going forward, it had to be somewhere here.
There! Light!
It was just a mere star in the distance but it spurred him into a faster struggle. There it was! He could reach it, he could finally leave this nothingness behind and start anew. There was so much he wanted to do, so many he wished to see again. He could start all over again and learn from his mistakes, tackling that big problem from a different angle.
The light source grew rapidly, despite appearing to be so distant. The murky darkness grew less and less and he could move more easily. He was practically running by then, clawing his way through what little obstacle the shadows still presented. He would make it! The light turned into a big oval shape that pulsed and waved with warm light, the beautiful melody of life itself trickling from it. Beyond it, a world of gold and silver shimmered, enticing him. It was his home, he could return again! He reached out, unable to still his excitement. After all this time...
The light grew cold and hostile. The music stopped. The golden world disappeared and the oval opening turned into a single slate of cold ice.
He felt dread filling him, but he refused to back down. He struggled forward, even as an invisible force suddenly pulled him back. The light shied away from him, angry and judging. Wind picked up and pushed against his thin body, forcing him back.
You are not welcome.
- No, please! Let me through! I can learn, I can make things better, I—
You do not belong.
He helplessly grabbed at anything, but once again there was nothing for him. He was losing ground, being dragged away from the light. He fought with all his might, he screamed for mercy, for reacceptance.
You are no angel.
With that finishing blow, the light turned away from him, and he was dragged down, down, down. He fell, horror paralyzing him. The darkness quickly swooped by. It was replaced by clouds, by shapes… The ground rushed towards him, preparing to swallow him up whole and erase him from existence…
Lyndon woke with a shout, sitting up. He was drenched in sweat and caked mud.
Semi-darkness greeted him that was broken by the blue shimmer of a nearby creepy Nephalem lantern and a weak source of light from somewhere up. The light revealed a roughly circular room completely made out of stone. There was a small stream cutting it in half, probably originating from the outside world up there. Up on the ceiling, which almost looked like it was a good hundred meters above, there was a large hole as if something crashed through there long ago. It was already overrun by the plantlife in the marsh however, and the already fading sunlight was mostly blocked by vines. There were small patches of moss and weak little weeds along the stream where the light actually reached down. The room had one big, thankfully unobscured exit on the far end.
Lyndon groaned, trying to make some order in his head. What was that strange dream just now? It didn't feel like a premonition at all.
He realized he was sitting on the paved ground, surrounded by stone debris that no doubt originated from the opening above his head. Wait, did he… crash through there? How did he survive that?! Indestructibility was not a power of his, that had become quite clear in recent weeks. But besides his buzzing head and slight stiffness in his limbs, he felt absolutely fine, surely not like someone who crashed through God knows how many layers of stone and ground. Lyndon, massaging his forehead, slightly leaned back on one outstretched hand, trying to figure out just what has happened.
His fingers touched fabric, and under that fabric, a warm body.
As if electrified, the scoundrel launched himself from his position, rolling over his head and turning around in terror.
Where his head originally rested, there was a bundle of some kind of dark textile, perhaps a tunic or a coat. Only… it wasn't just a random bundle, conveniently placed as a pillow there.
- You… – Lyndon hissed, eyes flashing up green, as he crouched on the ground, muscles tensed and ready to jump out of the way of an attack.
Before him, among the stone rubble laid a tall, thin person, well over 3 meters in height, dressed in a featureless black tunic. He was completely still like a rag-doll, but his hood twitched and slightly turned towards Lyndon, revealing… nothing but a bottomless darkness.
Lyndon bared his teeth, one hand instinctively flying to the crossbow on his back he didn't even realize he had had on him.
- You just won't go away, will ya, Malthael?!
Man, this is just a trip down memory-lane, isn't it?
Sorry, cupcakes, for the long hiatus. My Diablo-inspiration recently facetanked a combined nuke of overwhelming University work, Megaman NT Warrior and Anno 2205, and it is still struggling to recover from that hit. I'm really not out of the thick of things yet, so I cannot promise that the next update will be coming soon. With any luck, it will, but please do NOT hold your breath. I have wanted to upload chapters 24 and 25 together, as a kind of apology for the pause, but as things stand now, I am honestly surprised I could get 24 done this "fast". 25 is not even a third-done... Oh boy.
BUT! I am forging ahead slowly but surely, and I love you all, cupcakes! Instead of Chapter 25, I include in the "apology bundle" this quick comic strip about Inarius and the Worldstone, after Lilith's Purge. Enjoy!
-kenyizsu-.-deviantart-.-com-(dash)-art (dash) Diablo-Edge-Of-the-Abyss-745491806
God I hope the link will work...
