Chapter 32

Flying letters were the new superweapon. Good to know.

It took Malthael an abysmally long time to heal Lyndon (throughout which the bored scoundrel grabbed every opportunity to annoy the angel), but eventually the human was able to get up once again and walk around without too much trouble. The water problem was quickly solved by the scarabs: a bunch of them brought a stone bowl of crystal clear water whenever it was needed. Where they go the bowl and the water from remained a mystery, but so far no harm came from drinking it so Lyndon trusted the source.

Still, it was in his best interest that he left Corvus as soon as possible. Lyndon and Malthael set out with their strange honor guard to do just that, the angel still refusing to get lost. They wandered aimlessly among the identical corridors, having no idea where they truly were at this point. As far as they knew, they could have been under Westmarch, or dozens of kilometers away from it. Lyndon's food supply was slowly dwindling, and to that the scarabs could not offer a solution: down here nothing really lived that the scoundrel could have eaten. All the more reason they needed to get out of here.

Of course Malthael was far from giving up on his goal in the meantime. That, and he probably wanted to get payback as well for the scoundrel's antics.

- You and Rea are the reason us angels are above physical love.

Lyndon's eyes flashed green at the angel at this.

- Useless, wasteful, and ends in tragedy. You slaughtered your one true love, demonspawn.

- You do not understand the first thing about anything, Death – Lyndon spat. – I am not surprised you have no clue what you are talking about.

- Yet I see your grief and self-blame.

- So what?!

- You are responsible for what had happened to her and to Kingsport. You are a monster.

Lyndon spun around on his heels, pointing his charged dagger at the angel.

- You want to talk about being a monster, Death?! – he thundered with blazing eyes. – You who slaughtered more innocent than any other demon, you who caused the fall of your own p—

Roars filled the ruins around them, drowning out Lyndon's shouts with ease.

The two unwanted companions whipped their heads around and took up fighting stances. Lyndon quickly sheathed his dagger and pulled out his crossbow ready to fire, while the king scarab swarmed before them in a defensive way and ordered its kin with a loud shriek to close the two in a circle. The roars of Flesh Gorgers came closer and closer but there were other sounds as well: painful screeches and whines, and a strange drumming sound like a really really violent hail battering the ruins at an unnatural speed.

Before Lyndon and Malthael, their corridor ran into a different one that was perpendicular to their own. The Flesh Gorgers finally showed up from the left branch of it… and they were clearly fleeing from something. At first, it looked like dark smudgy shapes flew at them, barely smaller than a man's head. These shapes acted mostly like stones, flying in a straight line and glancing off the monsters' bodies, before disappearing in mid-air like they weren't even there. As the mob was forced backwards by this weird hail-thing, the corridor was filled more and more with the dark shapes.

Finally, one glanced off in an angle that Lyndon could make it out better in the dim blue light, before it disintegrated.

It was a B.

The scoundrel shook his head in disbelief, rubbing his eyes with one free hand and staring back at the phenomenon. Those dark "rocks" that battered the Flesh Gorgers were letters. All of them.

- A—Am I hallucinating? – Lyndon gawked, unable to make sense of what he was seeing.

Maybe that water the scarabs constantly brought him wasn't that clean after all…

- BEGONE, FOUL BEASTS! FALL BEFORE MY AUTHORSHIP! – came a screeching battlecry from the left branch of the corridor, no doubt the origin of the letter-hail.

The Flesh Gorgers, beaten and bruised, honked in alarm but a few of them tried to lunge forward at their mysterious attacker. Suddenly the battering stopped and instead a deep rumble erupted from the left. The next second, even the attacking monsters turned on their heels and began running, but they couldn't get far: a tornado of blazing orange wind, books and papers crashed into them and dragged them and all of their kin along. It swooped by, crashing Golems against the walls and instantly killing them, or accidentally flung themselves through the holes and into the abysses that dotted this part of Corvus. After a minute or so, the incredible tornado died down, leaving behind nothing but rubble, a few monster corpses and a very cheerful, still mysterious voice.

- Yes! I am victorious once again!

Lyndon had heard this voice before but for the life of him, he couldn't place it.

Steps sounded and from around the corner the man finally appeared. He was dressed in a pine-green tunic, a short brown cape draped around his shoulders and a single leather guard was strapped onto his left shoulder. He had a big bag by his side, full of provisions and literally tons of quills sticking out in every conceivable angle. The weirdest part was below the belt: on the tunic and the darker green robe coming from under it, there were books. Dozens of small, barely palm-sized books were hooked into the fabric via small golden rings, giving the impression of a very ineffectively armored skirt almost.

Lyndon finally stared into the face of the man, and after a moment of squinting in the semi-darkness, he cried out:

- Abd?! Abd al-Hazir?

The scholar grinned widely under his respectable mustache and beard and opened his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. He was not even remotely bothered by the angry scarabs hissing at him as a warning.

- Well, if it isn't Lyndon the scoundrel! It's been ages since Sescheron!

- Since when are you a mage?

- Me? Oh no no, my friend! I am no mage! I am an Archivist!

oooOOOooo

Despite the change in appearance, Abd al-Hazir really didn't change in personality. He was still the overly-talkative, friendly (if a bit condescending at times) and adventurous scribe from Caldeum who once travelled all over Sanctuary and noted down its cultures, people and animals into thick tomes.

He was a legend among scholars, but it appears he took it a step further, still.

- Abd, seriously, what has happened? – Lyndon asked, sitting by the small fire.

al-Hazir had insisted that he regaled them as much as the circumstances allowed and he quickly whipped up a nice little camp where everyone gathered. The scarabs thankfully realized that the man was no threat and they retreated to some meters away, clearly not liking the amount of attention they were receiving from him.

- Just a moment, friend! – al-Hazir called back, hunching over the softly hissing king scarab.

He pulled off one of the small books from his tunic which immediately grow into a normal sized tome and he began writing into it with great vigor.

- Amazing, truly! I have never seen a General before! – he exclaimed mostly to himself, sketching down the overgrown insect and taking notes. – It is truly as big as the records say. What a beauty!

- That thing is called a "General"? – Lyndon looked at the king scarab who only chattered in response.

- Historians have dubbed these beasts as such. They are capable of leading large numbers of small scarabs as you can see, hence the name – al-Hazir explained in a hurry. – Fascinating! I have never seen such docile behavior from them before!

- Yes, uhm, they are… protecting us.

- You bewitched them?

- Not me, but… someone simply asked them to do so, I guess.

- Amazing!

- Uhm, Abd, you really haven't answered my question…

- I am sorry, Lyndon! You know me, I am a man of knowledge and accountability, truly! – al-Hazir sat down next to them by the fire, finishing his quick notes. – Who is your silent friend by the way?

Malthael sat some distance away from them, arms and legs crossed, invisible gaze mostly kept on the ground. To this question his hood rise a little, but Lyndon was faster:

- Oh this is Deadweight, my… companion.

The hood slightly turned in his direction and Lyndon could almost feel the murderous gaze on his skin.

- Malthael – the angel rumbled deeply.

- Synonym for "useless", these days – Lyndon nodded, barely being able to keep the cocky grin off of his face.

Malthael only grumbled something that was probably yet another native curse.

- Interesting man, he is – Abd nodded, eyes already scanning the angel with the intent of taking notes.

- He is an angel, actually.

- Truly? Oh my, that explains the darkness in the hood! I thought my eyes tricked me in this darkness.

- Yes well, he is stuck on me and I need to find a way to get rid of him – Lyndon sighed.

- Not before you kill me, demonspawn.

- See? – the scoundrel nodded towards al-Hazir, but the man was already taking notes into his book.

The speed at which he grabbed a book and started writing was astonishing.

- An angel with suicidal tendencies. Most interesting, coming from an immortal being, truly – he mumbled under his mustache.

- You understand nothing, other demonspawn.

- Unfriendly, too.

- Of course he is – Lyndon sighed.

- Do you know how he ended up here?

- I—no, we just met in here – the scoundrel said quickly, silencing Malthael with a blazing glance.

- Most interesting – al-Hazir nodded briefly before closing his journal and focusing back on the camp. – I am sorry, where are my manners!

He quickly shared his food, fresh fruits and well-done steak, with Lyndon whose mouth began watering just by looking at them.

- I have a lot to tell you, Lyndon – Abd smiled at him as they started eating. – After you and your friends rescued me from Sescheron, I was most inspired by your heroism, to put it frankly.

- I remember it – Lyndon nodded. – Johanna dragged me into discovering the ruins of Sescheron and we found you in the hands of Khazra. I am glad to see you are doing well.

- More than well, my friend! After our ways parted, I felt like something has awakened in me as well, no doubt because of seeing you fight so valiantly in that snowy wasteland! I have written down that adventure while on the road and eventually I felt I needed to seek out something or someone who could help me realize my new goal.

- Which is?

- To be more than just a scholar and to help people, either through my writings or by other means.

- Fool. Your kind are not capable of such acts, only out of selfish gain – Malthael chimed in, venom dripping from his voice.

- You clearly do not know our kind then, my friend – al-Hazir pointed out, not even remotely bothered by the comment.

- Ignore him. Like I've said, he is useless – Lyndon frowned at the angel.

- I healed your back, demonspawn.

- Yes, at the pace of a pregnant snail, no less.

Abd al-Hazir chuckled at the comment, before continuing:

- My luck was great one day: I ran into a peculiar man not too far from Westmarch. He was an Archivist, and to my request he took me to their headquarters in the city: the Great Library.

- What are Archivists? I have never heard of them before – Lyndon blinked in confusion.

- I am not surprised, my friend. Archivists work in silence and dedication. We are scholars who put our quills and words into serving humanity, quite literally. We are the guardians of knowledge and history and we do all we can to preserve them for future generations who may benefit from them the most.

Malthael twitched and slightly raised his hood at this, but remained silent otherwise.

- So… you are scholars with magic? – Lyndon asked.

- Yes, in the most basic terms that is correct – Abd grinned. – Our power comes from our knowledge, experience and tools for our authorships. Before me joining them, the Archivists had fended off the Reaper invasion in Westmarch, keeping the Library safe and untouched. Unfortunately, in the process they were cut off from the rest of the city and couldn't help more. So yes, we do have magic, and we can fight if we must to protect knowledge, truly.

- So those flying letters…?

- Ah you saw my Letter Cannon and the Lorenado then. Those are just two from my arsenal – al-Hazir said, placing another small book on the ground.

The codex suddenly grew so big it was around the size of a man and thick as a younger tree's trunk.

- This book here is filled to the brim with stories and anecdotes of bravery, defiance and resistance. When I order it, it opens up and begins to shoot the letters out one by one, until either it runs out or I order it to stop. Right now it is recharging slowly. Those Flesh Golems were a sturdy bunch, truly.

- And the tornado?

- The Lorenado! It uses stories of war, conflicts and storms to power itself. Handy power to clear out large groups of enemies fast. It is very devastating, and what's even better, it does not damage anything or anyone else I do not recognize as an enemy. Therefore it can be used even in places where there are sensitive books. No harm will come to them.

- I have never heard of such magic before – Lyndon laughed, taking a large bite out of his steak.

- Me neither, not before the Archivists took me in and taught me their ways – al-Hazir said. – They have read many of my works and thought it an honor to have me among their numbers. Our order is small, we are present only in a handful of bigger cities. It requires specific mindset and skills to be an Archivist, not everyone is cut out for it. Which is why I am extra grateful for the gods that I am able to take up the mantle as well. Truly, I am honored to be a part of this noble cause.

- Spawns of Hell like you care for knowledge? Hm – Malthael suddenly spoke up.

- Oh we do, like you wouldn't believe, friend – Abd nodded with great vigor. – There are many people out there, even non-Archivists who are ready to die in service of protecting and regaining long lost tomes and writings. Without them, how would our people know where we came from and where we are headed?

- Dying for books may not sound so heroic, but I can understand the reasons – Lyndon chuckled softly, finishing his meal. – Cain would have been a great addition to your order.

- The honor would have been ours – al-Hazir said solemnly. – He was a legend and a true paragon of history and learning.

- He was… I knew him briefly, but he left a great impression even on me. I have bigger respect for scholars since then.

- His loss was the loss of all of Sanctuary. Many Archivists look up to him as a role model and patron of sorts, even. We follow his example in many cases – Abd sighed deeply before shaking himself. – But such grief is enough now. Tell me, Lyndon, what has happened to you since we last met?

The scoundrel felt his mood plummet at the question and it took him a great effort to stop it from showing.

- Oh… I just lived my life of thievery and overindulgence, naturally. I mostly left the heroic life behind, but Johanna occasionally, ah, persuaded me for one more adventure. Sescheron was one such thing. But not much has happened to me since then that is worth telling.

He could feel Malthael's gaze on the back of his head, and prayed silently that the angel did not spill the beans.

- What are you doing here, then? This isn't exactly the best pub or brothel of Sanctuary – al-Hazir frowned in confusion.

- I had a… an accident with one of the Waypoints. I ended up here against my will.

- You can use them? Their proper function was lost to the ages.

- I have learnt to use it by Johanna's side.

- Ah, I see. It is a good thing we met then. I can show you the way out of here.

- That would be great! – Lyndon signed in relief. – Thank you, Abd.

- Don't mention it, truly!

- You are down here for research purposes?

- Yes, actually – al-Hazir nodded. – I planned on staying a day or two, not going far from the entrance. So far, the most interesting things I have found were those damnable Golems I have read about in dark magic books, and the General over here. And you of course.

- Where are we exactly, can you tell? – Lyndon looked around.

- Beyond the Blood Marsh, thankfully. My entrance is just a mile or so away from here.

Lyndon exhaled loudly. They finally found a way out, thank the gods!

- Eat and rest – Abd smiled at him. – We can leave after that.

oooOOOooo

Since his fall, Malthael did not feel much of anything.

In order to save himself from drowning in despair and rage, he forcefully shut it all out of his mind, leaving him with nothing else. He didn't care where exactly he was on Sanctuary, he didn't care how much time had passed since the Arch's rejection. He feared that if he opened himself up to these questions and started pondering on them, he would have let in every vile emotion as well, which he wasn't prepared for.

It was safer not to feel anything instead.

Then the demonspawn came crashing down on him out of nowhere, almost knocking Malthael out of his stupor. It even turned out the demonspawn was a nephalem, and one of the abominations who finally brought him down just before the finish line of his victory.

Malthael saw his chance.

Only this stubborn spawn of Hell did not oblige and play along like he was supposed to! What else would Malthael have had to do back there?! Use his non-existent powers to provoke a true fight?! He was left with nothing, but he had hoped that the mere gesture would be enough to get the nephalem to kill him. Unfortunately, demonspawns are volatile and unpredictable in nature, thus even this one backed down from an easy fight and kill, because Malthael did not deserve "the easy way out".

Who was he to decide that?! What rights did a little nothing like this mortal, who had the life spawn of maggots, hold over him?!

Malthael needed to somehow fend off his newfound rage at this thought, and keep everything at bay. So, as he decided to follow the demonspawn and somehow force him into attacking, he tried to find something to draw his attention to.

And found the turmoil inside the human's mind.

These inner storms were just another reason why he fully believed humanity needed to be eradicated: such unstable beings should not hold great power at all. But this one time, Malthael was almost happy for it. It meant a tool, a weapon to turn against his foe and goad him into a murderous rage. It was so easy to read among the memories and the angel quickly turned his focus on the ones that mattered most: filled with anger, despair and fear, these constantly gnawed at the demonspawn's mind, even if he did not want to acknowledge it.

Malthael used these doubts, constantly unearthing more and more of them, dark little secrets that were perfect for the job. And he almost reached his goal when he laced one such doubt with a bit of falsehood, just to make it more emphasized. But the demonspawn regained his control a second too soon and began his counterattack with comments that made Malthael almost lose control over his own mental dam against his emotions.

He would not lose to a mortal!

This silent dueling went back and forth. The demonspawn had a sharp tongue but Malthael had endless patience on his side. It looked like his foe would finally snap, but then the other mortal just had to show up on the scene.

Except…

This demonspawn was different in a way.

Malthael had long since decided that there was no variety among humanity. Every single last one of them was half-demon, thus needed to be eradicated. No exceptions, no "buts" because then they would just repopulate again and bring their blight forth. He held fast to this belief… no, this fact, no matter what happened.

But this demonspawn with the strange powers and the many writings… The way he talked about his "mission", his calling in life and how valiantly he pursued and protected knowledge throughout all hardships and dangers…

It awoke something in Malthael.

- Spawns of Hell like you care for knowledge? Hm.

The angel quickly clamped down on this outburst and huddled himself up, forcefully shutting out the rest of the conversation.

Do not let anything in. Leave the door ajar and all shall burst forth.

Yet as much as the angel struggled, as much as he wished to close himself off again and return to the blessed embrace of the void in his soul, he felt something spread in him. With a slight shock, he realized what it was.

Inquiry.

This scholar had to go. Or die.

Now.


Ooooh boyyyy, I have been waiting for this moment! This moment of glory when the one true Archivist enters the battlefield finally! You have no idea how long this plan has been in the making, cupcakes. ;) If you are interested in the reasons to my excitement and decision, check out the Lore & Trivia Corner.

Soon I must embark on a pretty shitstormy end of August, with trips, birthdays and school starting so I wanted to get at least one more chapter out and get the action slowly starting up again, before disappearing into the mountains of Austria. If there are any mistakes, it is because I rushed a bit to upload it. Feel free to tell me where I've fucked up!

I may even get a job during the semester, which means even less free time than usual. Not sure what this shall mean to this fic, but fear not, cupcakes, for I shall not abandon it! Silence may stretch out for long, but it shall not be the end! I refuse to leave this awesome project behind, especially with an audience like you.

Love you all and take care!

Lore & Trivia Corner

- Abd al-Hazir: a noble scholar from Caldeum who travelled all around the world and recorded almost anything and everything. He is mostly known for his bestiary in-game, through which he provides info about monsters and the occasional humor as well. This guy is a goddamn legend in my eyes, around the level of Captain Hansen Haile even. He gives me, a lore-maniac, what I crave the most, and he was the EXACT THING Diablo2 lacked the most… outside of everything else regarding story-telling, but whatever… ANYWAY, in Adventure Mode, in the Ruins of Sescheron there is an event where you can actually rescue al-Hazir and he follows you around for a while, commenting on things.

- Sescheron: one of the few large forts the Barbarians ever built in their history, it was meant to be the first line of defense against anything threatening Mount Arreat and the Worldstone. However, it was overrun pretty goddamn quickly by Baal and his armies in D2's expansion. The fort you see in the (pretty shitty but still the highlight of that game) opening cinematic is actually Sescheron, not Harrogath where the rest of the game is set after that. In D3, You can even find the bridge with the blood stain remaining from that one herald.

- Archivist: and now for the big one. This will be a long ride, so strap in!

The Archivist was Blizzard's April Fools announcement in 2009, a "new" class coming to Diablo 3. According to them: "The Archivists are an order based in Westmarch. These brave souls wade into battle wielding tome and quill, armored not in ensorcelled plate or links of chain, but in the knowledge of generations past. These archivists fight not only for the future of humanity, but for mankind's past as well." They even had a short clip from the developing game, showcasing three abilities: the Lorenado, the Quest Bolt and the Shush. You can imagine my face and the fangirl-scream I emitted when I saw that one of Deckard Cain's Ults in HoTS is the legendary Lorenado itself.

To me, the Archivist is the biggest potential among the classes and it is my (pretty unreasonable) hope that D4 will feature it for real. I was so inspired by their idea, that all I needed was a minute, and I came up with their abilities (which will be shown in the fic later on), and decided that only one man is worthy enough to be an Archivist in my fic: Abd "Truly" al-Hazir. The man who recorded anything and everything, survived beasts that can very well kill you on higher difficulties, and had a jolly old time doing it all the while. Nobody is more fitted for this role. While I do not plan on him to become part of the main cast, he may very well be a recurring character and one who shall stay with us for a short while now. ;) I hope you cupcakes will like him as much as I do.

Here's hoping the Archivist will return one glorious day, for real this time! Because nothing says "badass" than killing the Prime Evil and Death with books. This is the true power of Wisdom, Malthael, suck it!