Chapter 34

In Malthael's long carrier of fighting, no one had ever started off with throwing a book at the enemy. Until today.

The small tome sailed across the air in a beautiful arc, suddenly turning into ten times its size and crashing against one of the surprised attackers. The female Unclean went under a record-sized novel. Before Malthael could properly react to this unique opening move, the scholar demonspawn (Vazir, was it?) thrusted one of his many quills into his hands.

- Here! It will block attacks! – the mortal (let's just call him Vazir) shouted.

Malthael stared at his "gift" as they dived to the side from the two charging enemies. It was a bird feather, and a simple one at that: the plume white, its end deep brown. How in the hells it was supposed to block attacks, the angel could not fathom, but he had no time to ponder any longer.

- Behind me! – Vazir shouted, conjuring up another giant book and stood it up.

As the two of them dived behind it, the Letter Cannon began its deadly barrage, crashing another, bearded Unclean against a nearby pillar. The third attacker, a burly bald man evaded the straight-line projectiles and flanked the book, double curved short swords aimed at the hiders. Malthael and Vazir were forced to jump back from the wide swings. The Unclean hacked open the Letter Cannon's spine, causing the book to fall forward with a pitiful whining sound and disintegrate.

- Your magic is weak, demonspawn – Malthael frowned at the loss.

- I am still practicing, alright?!

Malthael swooped forward and punched with all his might, hitting the left shoulder guard of the madman. He felt a spark of satisfaction at the sound of the arm popping out of its socket, but then a short sword sank into his left side and a knee embedded itself into his stomach. He flew backwards with a short pathetic screech and crashed hard into a table which collapsed under him. The Unclean let out a hyena-like laugh and with a single hand jerked his shoulder right back into its place. Vazir quickly threw a smaller book against the attacker, shouting and doing everything he can to draw the attention to himself.

Malthael struggled on the table wreck, trying to get up. The dull throbbing in his stomach teamed up with the stabbing pain in his side. His core was thankfully unscratched, but that didn't lessen the agony on its own. He turned to his side, trying to push himself up that way. He had swooped into battle, foolishly believing he still had his former might and speed, and gotten a powerful reminder in his face for it.

Why was he even trying to fight, though? Why not just let these spawns of Hell kill him? They clearly had the strength.

A screaming Unclean appeared in his line of vision, the very one who got taken out by the enormous book at the beginning. She towered over the angel, plunging a broken spear downwards. Malthael raised the quill he didn't realize he was still holding.

A metallic clang filled the air, and for a second the air froze around them.

Malthael stared and stared above himself, but couldn't decide which was stranger: the fact that the feather stopped the spearhead, or the fact that he didn't even feel the collision.

Luckily, the angel recovered faster than his opponent and he struck out, knocking the legs out of from under her. Pain and suicidal plans forgotten, Malthael stood up at an astounding speed, grabbing the dropped broken spear. The female Unclean was still on the ground when the angel stabbed it into her heart.

With one enemy down, Malthael took a brief moment to grab a rag off of the corpse and bandage his bleeding side with it. He then looked over at the Vazir demonspawn, who was practically fleeing from his opponents across the hall.

-… And you know I have always detested violence in my life but I now realize that it is a necessary part of life. You two remind me of those mercs my former rival sent against me once, I said former because he got eaten by three Dune Threshers in the end without my involvement of course—

Malthael frowned at the terrible coping mechanism of the mortal.

He stared at the scene for a long second, then brandished his broken spear, rushed forward and jumped on the back of the Unclean with the double swords. While the angel had almost insignificant weight, he did have momentum. The Unclean, however, reacted by rolling over his head, knocking Malthael off of him before the angel could do anything. He skidded a few meters on the snowy floor, and only with the help of Vazir did he manage to get up in time. The two Unclean laughed at him, which rekindled the spark of rage in Malthael.

- I—I—I'm just saying I'm not that much of a warrior – Vazir stammered, fumbling among his many books. – M—mindless beasts, sure, but actual humans—

- These are beasts – Malthael hissed, pushing and shoving Vazir along, as they retreated from the Unclean.

The only reason those two hadn't jumped yet, was because the angel tried to keep the tables and every other wreckage between them. All the while they drew closer to the lazily swinging bladed pendulum.

- Well, their behavior is very animalistic I agree but technically they are still human so—so—yeah – Vazir mumbled, allowing Malthael to drag him along.

Of course the scholar wasn't a true warrior. What was he expecting?!

"But… how can we eradicate them if we cannot fight?"

"You will be given tools… powers."

"Shall we able to use them?"

"Yes. They will be a part of you, Kasadya. You and your sisters shall be theDeath Maidens."

Malthael snapped out of the uncalled-for memory at the scream of Vazir. Something knocked him onto the ground and when he looked up, he saw the demonspawn standing over him with his back turned to him. The mortal held his quill above his head, contesting a broadsword that was no doubt aimed at Malthael a second ago.

The angel regained his senses and flung the broken spear at the advancing Unclean. It embedded itself in the leg of the bearded madman who howled and quickly yanked it out. Still, it had been enough to slightly cripple him. Malthael kicked out with both legs, forcing the Unclean to jump back and allow Vazir some breathing room. As the angel dragged himself up from the ground, the scholar shielded him with his body, quill ready for defense.

- Mighty Pen, you see—blocks all kinds of physical blows no matter the strength or the speed – he sputtered anxiously. – Very useful yes but cannot be used to attack.

- Imperfect, your magic is – Malthael grumbled.

- Yes well Archivists aren't truly spellcasters, we work with different tools and can't really throw fireballs left and right and—

- Focus!

- We must defeat them, you are right!

Malthael was silently grateful these Unclean were mostly mindless. A more cunning enemy would have long used the demonspawn's horrible coping mechanism to get relevant information, plans, weakspots, anything, out of him. The angel's back bumped into a long discarded weapon rack and a rusty curved punyal fell off of it. It was a miserable little thing but Malthael grabbed it nonetheless in his retreat.

Suddenly someone grabbed his arm and he almost slashed with the dagger in that direction. Vazir's eyes shone brightly with uncharacteristic anger and determination, his panic finally ending.

- We need to get behind them – he said, voice barely over a whisper this time.

Malthael glanced behind them and saw just how close the bladed pendulum was. Understanding flashed through him, and he nodded without a word.

With a battle cry, Vazir opened his big bag. From it, a storm of papers and parchments burst forward like angry birds, assaulting the surprised Unclean. Diving to both sides, the two unlikely companions split up. The scholar demonspawn ran to the right as fast as he could, jumping over chairs. The bearded Unclean, battling with a couple of berserk notes flung his broadsword at him, but the mortal threw himself onto the ground and skidded on his belly, straight under a still standing table. Using that as a temporary cover he forged on.

Malthael was not so lucky. Once again he was painfully reminded just how much of a nothing was left from his former battle-prowess and agility. He grabbed the weapon rack form before and threw the entire thing against the bald Unclean, but of course missed him completely. Despite the assaulting papers, the spawn of Hell actually had the galls to laugh at his attempt. In his rage, Malthael stopped and pointed at the madman, channeling his powers.

A smaller icy explosion erupted from the tip of his finger, not even getting close to the Unclean. Instead, it sent Malthael staggering backwards and covered everything in ice, which quickly resulted in the angel falling over and smacking into the tiles. The Unclean laughed louder at this then, shrugging off the papers, lunged forward, curved swords held high. From the right, a giant tome sailed into the picture, knocking the attacker aside. Malthael seized his chance, pushed aside his rage and self-reprimand and ran for it, zig-zagging and slipping across the pillars.

He and Vazir met up on the other side, quickly turning towards their foes.

- Having trouble with magic? – Vazir asked hurriedly over his shoulder as he yanked off one of the small tomes from his tunic.

- None of your business, demonspawn.

- It's okay I remember the first time I tried to get a Flutter Tome working it was like a few months ago, I ended up almost crashing into the ceiling at high speed and—

- The tome!

- Alright alright alright!

Vazir began rapidly chanting as he opened the book, the words too quick to make sense of. The bald Unclean kicked the tome off of him and charged, while the bearded one retreated his broadsword and did the same.

With his last sentences, Vazir threw the open book before his feet. It grew into an enormous size, glowed with orange light. The next second, violent wind erupted from it filled with smaller books and parchments, and the entire spell barreled towards the Unclean. It swept them off of their feet and dragged them along, straight at the pendulum.

The plan had been to have the Lorenado throw the two madmen into the way of the wicked blade.

The plan did not involve the Lorenado ripping out the pendulum from the ceiling and sucking it in as well. Malthael and Vazir watched in horror, as the giant blade began its maddened horizontal spinning. While its sheer size and weight had been enough to kill the Unclean, cutting them in two with its chains still within the twister, now it became something even worse.

Losing his sudden confidence, Vazir grew roots to his spot. Malthael grabbed him and threw him behind a wider pillar before following suit. As usual, the Lorenado in its dying moments detonated, instead of slowly winding down, and shot the titanic pendulum in a random direction.

Malthael's head resonated for a long minute, his entire mind filled with the sound. Eventually he had managed to sense other things as well. They were still behind the pillar, still alive. On the other side, the blade embedded itself halfway into the stone, its wings still vibrating from the collision. Vazir sat next to him on the ground, eyes wide and staring forward.

- That was… amazing – the mortal breathed out.

- I disagree.

oooOOOooo

Somehow, Lyndon had slept through all of that commotion.

After a brief catch of breath, which Vazir wasted on shouting and screeching and babbling about how afraid and absolutely "stoked" he had been, the scholar finally got to healing the scoundrel's sickness. Malthael drew some meters away, tired and spent and really not having the patience to tolerate the noisy human. He was slowly sealing his own injury on his side, sprawled out on top of a longer table and staring blankly at the ceiling.

He would have died back there, due to those unwanted memories and lackluster fighting reflexes, but the scholar demonspawn saved his life, twice even. Thrice, counting the gifted quill the angel still had stuck in his black coat. Malthael thought for a moment. Wasn't it his mission to get killed so he may return to the Arch?

So then… why was he completely fine with being still alive?

He wanted Lyndon to kill him. Yes, that was it.

Malthael refused to dwell more on this question.

To distract himself, he reached out with his mind. The nephalem demonspawn's brain was fuzzy and hazy, useless to look around in (and after that encounter with the older brother's memory, the angel did not wish to venture back inside just yet).

The scholar's mind was still working overtime due to the adrenaline, full of excitement and pride that he could stand his ground against human enemies as well. It had been his first real fight, after all. So much story to write from this one encounter. For starters, he can, at least slightly, add to what little records are there about the Unclean. Then, he can write about how he survived and fought and saved an angel's life! That was so neat, working together with a seraphim like that! Although Hazir (oh… it was Hazir, not Vazir) thought angels should have been faster and more agile, and maybe not blow themselves up with their own magic—

Malthael angrily pushed past those rambling thoughts. He wasn't sure why he had hoped that the mortal's mind would be any different than his behavior.

He went deeper instead, looking for anything that may peak his interest in any way. He saw memories, a million of them showing the brave, unending pursuit of knowledge even when it led to such dangerous places as boggit dens, scavenger caves, caverns inhabited by carnivorous giant worms, bats and other nightmares. Hazir had traveled all over Sanctuary, writing about its animals, its people and history, more often than not barely escaping with his life, but always forging ahead with great conviction. This thirst for knowledge showed in his childhood as well when Hazir was willing to crawl through the sewers and end up in the Dahlgur Oasis, just to follow and observe a pair of colorful lizards.

Watching it, Malthael felt another one of his own memories trying to come forward from the confinement he had locked everything away in. With some reluctance he allowed it.

It was an ancient one, from the beginning of his long life. He had been alone back then, but that had not deterred him in any way. Burning curiosity drove him forward, he discovered every nook and crack along the length of the great Crystal Arch and the strange world it was slowly forming around itself. After that, he slipped into another plane and discovered the future Pandemonium. The Battlefield of Eternity, now a grey worthless wasteland, had looked rather different before the Eternal Conflict. While it had still been mostly grey, chaotic, floaty and had desolate parts, it had also been teeming with life. Strange, fluorescent plants and trees had inhabited it, forming patches of light among the hovering cliffs. More peaceful herbivore creatures had roamed the land, most of them not even bothering with the Archangel as he had passed through the land, observing everything intently. The variety within this place had completely mesmerized him, he may have spent a century wandering here.

Time hadn't been really well-measured back then.

One day, he came across something different that clearly had no place in this world, yet was deeply embedded into the ground and completely run over by life. It was a blood red gem in the shape of frozen flames, with an inner blaze of its own, and a size that dwarfed everything around it. The soft hum with what it sang beckoned the hypnotized Malthael forth who marveled at this relic. The animals, predators and preys alike, slightly parted ways before him, completely tame and peaceful. The angel could freely approach the gem and touch it with shivering hands. The second he made contact with it, he knew what it was.

The Eye of Anu. A part of the great god who had created this Universe, the same way the Crystal Arch was another shard of it. Yet, this gem seemed even older somehow.

Before the split… Before Tathamet came to be. The Eye of Anu had connections to that state, while the Crystal Arch was purely of the god who had cast out the darkness from itself. Interesting.

Malthael reached out with his mind, carefully prodding and feeling around. There was so much to learn about this stone! Why was it covered in life? What was its power? Was it a creator like the Arch?

But the gem was reluctant to share its secrets, as if it was fighting back, ever so slightly parrying the angel's attempts at discovery. Malthael withdrew eventually, hidden eyes still held captive by the sheer majesty of this stone. He vowed he would return here to continue his work.

And he did. Many, many times. Before and during the Eternal Conflict as well. The war had forced him to step up his research and start using the gem. Flimsy as his attempts may have been, it became clear what the Eye was: a creator power, perhaps even more powerful than the Arch itself. There seemed to be no limit to what it could conjure up, from mere objects to entire worlds, new battlegrounds for the Conflict.

And when it was suddenly gone, it left a void inside Malthael who had felt like he was beginning to share a bond with the relic. But it was gone and for over two eons, they could not find it. And even when they did, it was kept away from him by an infuriating deal made with Mephisto.

And then, the Eye of Anu was destroyed. Completely, and without a trace. Its final shockwave swept across the entirety of Creation. It almost made Malthael crush Chalad'ar between his hands in his desperate rage.

With a grunt, the angel tore himself away from the memory. It was enough.

He sat up to the edge of the table, his side finally sealed. As sour as the end of that memory had been, it was still… strange to feel again the long lost thrill of discovery, the inner goading to just know things, whether it was relevant or not. All those peaceful creatures in Pandemonium had died out during the early years of the Eternal Conflict and only the most vicious, most horrible beasts remained. Yet, Malthael could still picture those four- or six-legged herbivores with perfect clarity, their existence living on in him.

It was a useless information. It did not provide any advantages over an enemy, or ideas and inspiration for a new spell or weapon. It gave nothing.

… Only maybe that small joy that he knew of them, before their disappearance.

Malthael stared before himself blankly for long.

- What is this place? – he finally spoke up.

- Hm? – Hazir turned to him from his seat next to Lyndon, his hands mixing together some sort of concoction.

- This place. What is it?

- It's uh… it's a fort.

- I know that.

- Then what—?

- Why was it built? What is the history? – Malthael grumbled, annoyed by the slowness of the mortal.

Hazir's eyes lit up to this, his happiness palpable in his voice.

- Oh well, you see, it all started a long long time ago. According to some texts, Bul-Kathos, the, uh, god of the Barbarians had given them the task to guard the sacred Mount Arreat and a relic called the "Worldstone" within it, so the Barbarians set out to—

And Malthael leant forward and listened.


The feeling when you realize at your third version of a lame fight scene, that maybe a nerdy scholar wouldn't be all that Rambo-like in a fight, even if he got some training recently.

Cupcakes, you have no idea how hard it was to put that goddamn brawl together in the beginning. Even a strange fixation on the storyline of Act III (which is not even CLOSE to arriving) got in the way. Considering the speed at which I finished the chapter after getting through that, it is clear to me what I am best at. But hey, TFS is great for such practices!

As of this week, I will begin a half-time job next to my University, therefore my free time will probably take a nose dive. While I have yet to experience this setup to say for sure, I am GUESSING it's going to mean slower updates in all of my work, but mostly in TFS. Maybe. We shall see.

Fear not, I am not planning to abandon this story. You know the drill: keep calm and channel Auriel's hope!

Thank you, cupcakes, for your continued support! I love you all!

But no, srsly, I need to iron out that shitstorm of an Act III because it is way too much…

Lore & Trivia Corner

- The Unclean: a small group of Barbarians who went mad after Mount Arreat's self-destruction. They became crazed cannibals who attacked everyone and everything on sight. Some sane Barbarians feel it their mission to hunt these monsters down and end the shame they had brought to their people. Still, the Unclean persist to this day, and they even have an Elder as their leader.

- Mighty Pen: once again, it is an Archivist ability purely of my making. It is based on the saying "the pen is mightier than the sword". It is a defensive item, absolutely useless for offense, or against magical attacks.

- Kasadya: one of the few Death Maidens given a name in the game. She was the very first of her kind you saw when you entered Westmarch, witnessing the slaughter of a group of fleeing innocents.

- Pre-Conflict Pandemonium: my addition, but I personally refuse to believe that Pandemonium had always been that worthless unforgiving wasteland, especially with the Worldstone chilling out there for god knows how long. No, there HAD to be something there! Not much, sure, but definitely more than what we can see in Act V.