Chapter 44
Where was the—There!
Tyrael caught yet another glimpse of the same black smudge at the edge of his vision. It had left them while they were inside that strange (and definitely enchanted) grove, but now it was back, and the fallen angel needed to exert less and less effort to consciously register it.
He did not like this detail at all.
Whatever that black thing was, it was just appearing far too regularly at this point. Tyrael could see it for the third time today as they trudged through the open woods around these parts. Something was following them, it seemed, but his senses just refused to pick up any other clue. No auras, no noises, nothing. As long as this thing did not make any moves, Tyrael couldn't do anything but observe, and he really hated doing that.
At the very least, he had managed to locate themselves on the map, so now nothing could stop them (in theory) from finally reaching Bramwell on their journey, even with that slight detour they had to take because of Eirena.
Anu help him, it was only the first town…
Still, Tyrael couldn't be happier to learn that they were close to Bramwell. Mostly because Quiet (let's just call him that from now on) was an abysmally spoiled child. The little angel was whining without stop when Tyrael tried to get him to walk at a faster pace, and outside of that he was just mulling about, paying attention to anything that wasn't the trek towards Bramwell. All this just screamed of Lyndon and his constant cuddling. The mortal angel remembered how was the first few weeks of traveling together with the scoundrel: it was the exact same hell of bickering as this current one.
I'm going to strangle you the next time we meet, Lyndon. Just so you know, Tyrael grumbled for the n-th time, when he discovered Quiet had fallen back yet again to stare at some trees.
- Ina—Quiet! Would you hurry up?! – the mortal angel called back to him impatiently.
- You are running! I'm tired!
- I am not running, I am walking at an acceptable speed! If we want to get to anywhere, we need to move faster than what you had gotten used to with Lyndon.
Quiet glanced back at the trees. Tyrael took a long moment to stop himself from shouting, and instead look at the little one's body language: small hands clutching each other, wings quivering.
- Did you see something? – the mortal angel walked back to his companion, following his line of sight.
-… It was black.
- Black? Did it have a shape? – Tyrael glanced at Quiet.
-… No. Smudgy.
- Are you sure it is not an animal?
- No, I did no feel anyone there.
-… I am seeing it too – Tyrael finally admitted.
Quiet turned to him with big eyes.
- I do not know what it is – the mortal angel went on. – It's following us. But unless it actually does something, we cannot do anything about it.
- It's skerry.
- Yes… it is. Let's go. If we reach Bramwell, it might leave us alone – Tyrael offered.
- Alright – Quiet mumbled and hurriedly scuttled after his companion.
Honestly, after this discovery, Tyrael half-expected that black smudge to ambush them from behind. However, by some unknown reason, or perhaps insane luck, they reached Bramwell by mid-afternoon without any incident. Tyrael was honestly bewildered.
At this point, this could be considered a miracle in its own right.
Quiet was completely spent from the quick walking by the time they reached the border of the town, so Tyrael had to carry him in one arm. The mortal angel refrained from complaining, he guessed he should be thankful that he had managed to get Quiet to go faster. He let out a relieved a sigh as he spotted the wooden plank walls of Bramwell, and beyond that, streaks of chimney smoke towards the sky. All they needed to do now was pass by the cemetery that was beyond the city walls, and…
… Tyrael almost fell over in a smaller gravestone that appeared right before his legs. He stumbled forward with a muffled curse, jostling Quiet out of his half-asleep state. Stunned, Tyrael looked around.
Bramwell's cemetery, the cemetery that was supposed to be a good 30-40 meters to the right from them, was suddenly around them, and was filled with fog. The town itself disappeared, and so did the simple iron gate that led into this place. Quiet's small fingers curled into Tyrael's cape with panicked hurry.
- Teeriel? – the little angel asked in a small voice.
- Stay close. Whatever happens, do not leave my side – the mortal angel ordered as he gently placed Quiet on the ground, his eyes not leaving his surroundings.
He summoned El'druin and was relieved somewhat to see the sword appear in his hand. Adjusting his backpack, Tyrael willed his weapon to shine with a stronger light, hoping to disperse the fog around them. Besides him, Quiet also pulled out the black dagger Lyndon had gifted him, but his hands shook madly.
- Alright. You have us exactly where you want us to be. Show yourself now, fiend! – Tyrael spoke up loudly.
Nothing happened. Was this Eirena? She was a true expert on illusions, but Tyrael had never seen her actually cast one before.
- Do you feel something, Quiet? Anything? – Tyrael whispered.
- Bad magic…
- Is it like Eirena's?
-… No. It's like that bad angel Maltael's.
That made Tyrael catch his breath. Malthael was after them?! Why? How?! Most importantly, how can they get out of here, and what happened to Bramwell, if Malthael was truly here?! The mortal angel immediately pictured streets covered by pale corpses and screaming souls darting among buildings. Malthael was never known for giving up on an idea of his, until he brought it to fruition. Death was nothing for an Archangel on the long—
Quiet screamed and Tyrael moved faster than his brain could catch up. He grabbed Quiet by his arm and ran, vaulting over a good number of gravestones in the process. Something heavy smacked into the ground behind them with enough force to pulverize both of them. With his heart racing in his throat, Tyrael zig-zagged among the graves, dragging the completely frozen Quiet along. Something long lashed out and missed them by a few centimeters. Tyrael dashed to his right, rolling over his head to finally look back from where they had been standing.
Something moved in the fog. It was big, long, and… scaly? Tyrael could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a lizard-like limb for a second there. Whatever the hell it was, it was creeping around them, carefully staying in the haze.
- Show yourself and face us honorably, demon! – the mortal angel shouted at the apparition.
Quiet whimpered and tried to drag him backwards futilely by his traveling cape.
Should have listened.
Tyrael had to jump to the left from the long whip-like tail that struck out at him. Quiet fell into the opposite direction in his panic.
You should have listened.
Tyrael needed a few moments to realize that the disgusting hissing, rotting voice in his head came from the scaly bastard in the fog. Alright, so the demon was intelligent enough to talk, even if the words it spoke did not make any sense. He could work with that. He could work with just about anything that wasn't Malthael.
- I had a pretty bad few days as of late – Tyrael growled. – You have picked the worst possible time to attack, you spawn of Hell! What have you done to Bramwell?!
Instead of an answer, a clawed hand came sailing out of the fog, barely giving Tyrael enough time to dodge it. It had freakishly long fingers and even longer nails, but the palm itself was surprisingly humanoid. Tyrael tried to counter with his sword but by then the limb had already retreated into the haze. This demon was one fast bastard… but also surprisingly restrained. The mortal angel's nerves were on edge, he was ready to cast his force field against whatever magical attack it might throw at him, but that just didn't come.
Surely, if the demon was capable of trapping them in this cemetery, then it wouldn't only attack with clumsy physical strikes, right?
- Quiet, can you disperse the—Quiet? – Tyrael called over his shoulder, before realizing that the little angel wasn't next to him anymore.
With panicked hurry, he looked around, but all he could see were endless rows of gravestones.
- Quiet! - he shouted, hoping that his companion was merely hiding.
You could have killed him. You should have killed him!
Tyrael struck first this time. El'druin sank into the side of the incoming tail, the scale breaking and splinting the carapace of a bug, instead of that of a lizard. The limb retreated with a furious and incredibly disgusting hiss.
Traitor!
- Quiet, come on! We must defeat this fiend together – Tyrael called out again, to no avail.
He started running aimlessly around the gravestones, trying to spot the little angel.
Traitor to Sanctuary!
- SHUT THE HELL UP! – Tyrael roared as loudly as he could muster at the cowardly monster, stunning it into blissful silence.
Human mannerism could be so useful at times! Tyrael used these precious seconds to truly look at his surroundings. The Bramwell cemetery was pretty much infinite, with endless rows of gravestones and small altars. Some parts were encircled by iron fences, probably the burial grounds of wealthier families. There were a couple of the usual creepy statues of crying women in long robes. The grass was healthy, and pebble paths snaked around the tombs. The fog was ridiculously thick a few dozen meters away from Tyrael, but the angel could finally notice a few tell-tale signs: the graves, statues and everything else repeated. The cemetery didn't grow unbelievably wide all of a sudden, it was merely copied and pasted over and over again.
So this was a mere illusion. Why, that was Tyrael's specialty.
The fallen angel concentrated, willed the layers of this apparition to unravel themselves. In the meantime, he wondered where the demon had gone. Surely, the stun had worn off by now.
Don't! You will doom everything!
Ah, there it was.
- Where is Quiet? – Tyrael hissed between his teeth as he pierced his gaze through the haze.
The fog was dissipating. The fallen angel could catch glimpses of the brick wall that surrounded the cemetery. The copied patches of land shimmered and flickered but held on... for now. Tyrael's former powers to strip away illusions had diminished greatly with his fall (just like everything else), but he still had it. Given enough time, he knew he could break the whole spectacle down to nothing. Time that… the demon strangely seemed like it would provide.
Stop! You had sworn to protect Sanctuary, you traitor!
- You are too occupied to stop me, aren't you? – growled Tyrael, his eyes shining gold as he looked around.
And if that was true, that could have only meant one thing…
The sheer power struck him in his belly before he could properly notice it. He staggered back but could finally see what was going on. A dozen or so meters away from him Quiet was crouching on the ground, curling into himself with eyes screwed shut, and shaking from the effort. He was crying, clearly terrified to his core. Around him a red aura of power pulsed, it tried to fight off a dark haze that seemed to be weighing down on it. The darkness angrily swirled around the bubble, pale hands and faces surfaced from it to attack.
Tyrael lunged forward, El'druin at the ready.
No!
The distorted clawed hand came swinging from the fog, and this time Tyrael couldn't dodge it. He smacked straight into the slimy cold palm and was sent flying backwards. He crashed into a gravestone, and it was only thanks to his backpack and all its contents taking the hit, that his spine remained intact.
In retrospect, the demon had saved his life.
Quiet's eyes flew open and he screamed. The infernal sound shook the ground to its core, cracks burst open, sending forth all sorts of terrible disasters: molten fire, noxious gases, jets of hot water, frenzied roots of plants, rabid rodents that attacked everything on sight, the gravestones included. Quiet struck forward with the black dagger. Its blade sunk into the dark haze, actually cutting and weakening it considerably. The red aura rapidly expanded, with the unseen scaly demon audibly struggling to keep his attack up.
No! Damn you! You will not leave here! Sanctuary must—
Tyrael had to shield his face from the explosion that cut the screeching off. He was certain his hearing had failed him, his clothes were singed from the shockwave. Only the broken gravestone at his back stopped him from tumbling further backwards.
In an instant, stillness took over. Tyrael's ears rang, he could hear nothing but that insufferable sound. Lowering his arms slowly, he beheld destruction in its purest form. Bramwell's cemetery was irreversibly gone. The ground was uphove, cooling liquid fire and steaming water bubbled in pools, remaining clouds of noxious gases rolled across the ruins lazily. The rats angrily chewed at statues, iron fences and gravestones. Nothing left standing, even the brick walls completely crumbled. The grass burnt out where the ground wasn't straight up torn up.
Quiet was still crouching in the middle of a burn mark, visibly heaving, eyes staring emptily at the ground, hands clutching his head. Tyrael realized he was still deaf, and not only that, but there was something warm trickling down on the sides of his head. A chill of worry ran down his spine. Movement caught his eye, however, and he stared to his left. The militia of Bramwell was gathering at the ruined gates of the cemetery, visibly shouting orders, pointing at Tyrael and Quiet, brandishing weapons.
There was no way Tyrael in his deafness could properly explain the events. The city's cemetery, all the deceased who were laid down to rest were all utterly gone, and the demon responsible was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully it was killed in the massive explosion. And Quiet was clearly in no condition to be asked questions.
Making a split-second decision, Tyrael launched himself, zig-zagged across the hazardous landscape, grabbed Quiet into a tight hug and ran for it.
oooOOOooo
It was almost incredible, how much Tyrael had taken his hearing for granted. Not being able to hear the thuds of his boots on the ground, the swooshing of his traveling cape, or his own labored breathing, all this made running and navigation incredibly difficult, as if he had lost direct contact with his own body. It was a surreal and horrifying experience but he didn't have the luxury of stopping and analyzing it.
He had also no idea how close or far the pursuing militia might have been, which did not help matters in the slightest.
Thankfully, with the shell-shocked Quiet in his arms, the infernal subterranean menaces parted before them, not a single one of them harmed them in any way. They did however seem to converge on the advancing militia, and Tyrael could only hope they could gain enough of a headstart out of that for a clean escape.
After a while he realized the ground was moving with him. Staring down, he saw the earth turning semi-liquid, following his steps and giving him extra speed, as if he was riding a wave. The sight was very disorienting, but Tyrael tore his gaze away and the previous sense of stability returned. Either Quiet or one of the gods were helping him, and the fallen angel decided to roll with it and put some much needed distance between them and the rightfully angered Bramwell people.
At sunset they finally stopped, atop a small hill and under the shade of a lonely oak. Tyrael stared daggers at the tree, at this point he was fully expecting it to attack them in some manner. Literally everything that could have gone wrong, had gone wrong on this journey so far. It was starting to reach comedic levels but Tyrael didn't feel like laughing.
Pulling his fingers away from his ear, he noted numbly that it was indeed bleeding. He tried not to think about the ramifications One of the unlucky duo was already in shock, he couldn't allow himself to lose his head as well. So Tyrael busied himself with inspecting the tree from top to bottom, forcing his sight to work overtime. He was still clutching Quiet to his chest who had proceeded to turn himself into a tight shaky ball. When the plant remained unassumingly ordinary, he carefully set the little angel down at its base. Quiet hugged his knees to his chest and emptily stared forward. Tyrael plopped down next to him with a loud sigh and assessed their losses.
Dodging had been an absolute hell with the backpack on him, but in the end it saved his spine from snapping into two, at the expense of pretty much everything in it. The ink bottle, the potions and the small clay bowls of salves were all shattered and their content found its way into every inch. The dried food prepared by Haile got soaked and ruined, so were the sleeping mats – although at the very least those could be washed and dried, even if some of the stains would never come out.
Still, if he had to choose between his ability to move, and the content of his backpack, Tyrael chose his mobility without hesitation.
He felt a pair of eyes on him. Looking to his left he saw Quiet staring up at him with tear-filled but expecting eyes. Tyrael grimaced and gestured at his ear, hopelessly shrugging. Quiet narrowed his eyes at that, before opening them wide with realization. He stood up and reached out, to which Tyrael slightly ducked his head. Quiet cupped his ears with his hands and closed his eyes for a second.
Something stirred inside Tyrael's skull, an incredibly unnerving feeling that quickly grew terribly itchy and annoying. The mortal angel forced himself to remain still, and eventually more and more sounds came back to him. First, the flow of blood in his head, then his own breathing, then slowly and surely the sounds of their surroundings, the breeze, the rustling of the leaves, and everything else.
These have only been gone for a few hours at most, yet how much Tyrael had missed them!
- Thank you – he breathed out, happy to hear his own voice again.
Quiet pulled back, plopping back down onto the ground.
- Is the bad monster gone? – he asked in a fragile voice.
- I hope so – Tyrael nodded. – With any luck, that big explosion you have caused killed it.
- It was so skerry – Quiet whispered, staring at the ground. – I was so skerd… I did something very bad…
The mortal angel sighed at this, leaning back against the tree.
- True, Bramwell will more than likely never forgive us for destroying their cemetery, but it was not our fault it happened.
- I blew it up.
- Yes, but you did it out self-defense. And you had no other choice, as much as I could see. The only blame is on the demon… but it's probably dead now, so it doesn't matter anymore.
Quiet stared at him again in full disbelief. Tyrael returned the glare with the same amount of confusion.
- What's the matter?
-… When will you be angry?
- Angry? I'm not—
Suddenly it dawned on Tyrael.
- Do you think I will reprimand you for destroying the cemetery? – he asked.
- What's rep—rer—repi—?
- Reprimand. It means to express to someone your disapproval of them.
Quiet looked positively hopelessly lost at this.
- It is when someone talks or shouts angrily at someone else for doing something they didn't like or didn't think it was wise – Tyrael tried again, internally cringing at the simplistic explanation.
- Yes. That – Quiet finally nodded.
- I'm not angry – Tyrael shook his head. – I'm only angry when you are doing something needlessly foolish or dangerous. But we were fighting back then, against a barely visible foe. Nobody can fault you for fighting back.
- So... so no shouting?
- No shouting.
- Are you sure?
- Yes, I am sure, I—Quiet.
- That's… good? – the little angel mumbled, returning his gaze to the horizon.
Tyrael grimaced but remained silent. It shouldn't have been a surprise to him that Quiet was expecting an angry outburst. He had to wonder if Lyndon had so much as looked at the little angel angrily before. The scoundrel had been surprisingly gentle and kind during that brief time Tyrael saw them interact. There was no way the mortal angel could ever replicate that. He needed a different approach, something more… diplomatic.
- Alright, Quiet – he stretched his arms, making up his mind finally. – Let us come to an agreement.
- We are going to that grassy place, not to Agreeeeeeemant – Quiet frowned at him.
- I meant let's agree on something.
- Oh. What?
- I promise I will not shout, only in very dangerous situations and when you do a very big mistake that could have terrible consequences.
- Konse—what?
- Consequences. This is an important word, learn it. It means something that happens because of what you have done or decided on in the past. Consequences can be good or bad, and we always need to be ready to accept them and learn from them.
Quiet once again looked utterly clueless. Tyrael massaged his neck tiredly. He was going to have to expand the little angel's vocabulary somehow.
- For example, let's pretend it is raining, alright? – he finally came up with something. – If I decide to travel in the rain without my cape covering my entire body, the consequences of that decision will be that I get soaking wet, and probably also sick soon after.
- Aaaaaaa! – Quiet realized. Tyrael could practically see the candle light up above his head in enlightenment.
- That's just one example. Consequences can be minor—very small, or huge—very large – Tyrael went on, forcing himself to downgrade his manner of speech. – They can be very good or very very dangerous. So, let's agree that I will only shout at you when you do something very bad that will probably have very dangerous consequences. And, in return, you promise that you will listen to what I have to say and pay attention. Can we agree on that?
Quiet raised his little hand, one finger on his invisible mouth as he thought long and hard. His eyes gradually narrowed at Tyrael who maintained the perfect pokerface throughout the whole time.
- Will you be mean? – the little angel asked carefully.
- I promise I won't be mean, but I will tell you if you made a mistake, so you can learn from it. That is why it is important that you listen.
Quiet kept glancing at him suspiciously, his little wings rising and lowering, giving away the lines of thoughts in that tiny head.
- Is this what grownups do? Soffia said grownups talk instead of shouting and being mean – he asked after a pause.
- Yes, it is what grownups do, they calmly talk about things, even those they do not agree on – Tyrael nodded, smiling to himself.
Of course Sophie would have had a conversation with the little angel. It's just like her not to leave anything to chance.
Eventually, Quiet exhaled loudly:
- Alright. I do no like shouting.
- It is agreed then – Tyrael reached out in a handshaking gesture.
He had to teach the little angel how to shake on a deal, but the child quickly got the hang of it.
With that, they made camp and Tyrael started planning for the road ahead, while Quiet busied himself with saving and "repairing" whatever he could from the backpack. The mortal angel stared at his map, trying to devise at least two backup plans, should the original idea go south… like it had done so far.
- No bad magic here – Quiet murmured as he slowly reunited the pieces of a broken salve vase, returning the cream into it as well.
Tyrael took that comment as a good sign that the unknown demon truly had been killed back there, and they would have one less enemy to worry about on the long run. He briefly turned his gaze towards the skies, silently asking for a bit more of this good luck from the gods of Sanctuary.
Or Anu. Or whoever was listening at this point.
Well, another month, another roller-coaster of life, amIright? You guys wouldn't believe the stuff I went through lately. From a terribly painful betrayal of a friend I had trusted, to starting at a new workplace, to doing a Concept Art course, to working out the map of the Sin War trilogy as best as I could, and finally to having officially graduated from my university. This last month was incredibly weird and forced me to adapt quickly or die, basically. I'm not gonna lie to you, there was a brief period where it seemed like this fanfic will die from the shock it and I had to go through. But those few days of darkness are long behind us and with Auriel's blessing, we are moving forward.
As a result, Act III had gone through a bit of a goal and tone change. Nothing major and nothing that would cause confusion to you, cupcakes, never fear that. As always, I thank you for your patience, your attention and your kind words. I appreciate every review/comment you give me. Please feel free to tell me if this chapter feels off… I have temporarily lost my touch due to this last month and I need time to get back on the road.
With my new job on my hands, things will probably go slow (so basically, the same as up to this point :P), but this fanfic will remain strong and ongoing, mark my words!
The Map of the events of the Sin War Trilogy, and the information gathered about it:
kenyizsu-.-tumblr-.-com-(slash)-post/187603149400/a-map-of-the-possible-locations-of-the-sin-war
