Chapter 8 for all you lovely people! It somehow ended up about a thousand words longer than my other longest chapter, but I really wanted to get the boss battle with the Archon in here, which I hope I did decently at least; fight scenes are freaking hard to write. I'm thinking that there's gonna be one if not two (perhaps an epilogue, I dunno, what do you guys think?) more chapters before I bring this to a close.
She wondered briefly if this was what drowning felt like. Inky blackness pressed down all around her and there was a tugging in her chest. No, not just her chest but her soul; a feeling that the very center of her was being squeeze through a too-small space. Just as she felt as through her chest would burst from the pressure the darkness receded and she was hit by a completely different sensation. Though the sunlight shone golden, there was a heaviness in the air, thicker than fog, that bore down on her like a tidal wave. It wasn't a physical feeling more than a mental one, and the girl could only think of one word to describe it; hate.
As she took her first stuttering breath Death's hand clamped down on her mouth and forced her to silence. He raised a finger to his mask and swiftly led her away from the pool. As they turned the girl saw a figure standing at the bottom of the wide shallow staircase, a silhouette with four ivory wings spread wide. The Horseman steered her behind a massive pillar before releasing her.
"You're staying here," he announced in a whisper before she had the chance to speak.
"What?!" she yelped, before consciously lowering her voice, "you can't be serious!"
"Of course I'm serious," he replied firmly, "it's much to dangerous for me to take you with me to the Citadel. You'll be safer if you stay here."
"But what about the angel?"
"You won't be alone. Dust will stay with you, won't you Dust?" The crow proudly puffed out his feathers as though honored to take on the task and flapped over to the girl's shoulder.
"Really?" she said skeptically, "you're trusting a crow to protect me against an angel?" Dust hissed irritably and batted the back of her head with a flap of his wings. "Sorry, but I'm just being honest," she grumbled, picking a black feather from her hair.
Death thought for a moment. "That's a good point actually," he murmured. The Horseman held out a hand and the air turned cold, a sickly green fog beginning to spill out over the edge of the platform. Rhythmic thumps, like a distant heartbeat started to drum, getting louder and louder until suddenly the fog erupted into a great cloud. From the mist stepped the steed of the Rider of Death, a huge decayed beast of exposed bone and a mane and tail of bile green fog. Despair uttered a sepulchral whinny in greeting to its rider, its stamping hooves kicking up clouds of yet more of that thick mist.
Death placed a hand on the horse's neck. "Despair will also stay with you."
The girl had backed up considerably at the half-dead beast's appearance, mouth comically agape.
"What have I gotten myself into…" she whispered, rubbing at her eyes as though it would change what she would see. When it didn't work like she had hoped she sighed, shoulders slumping. "Are you sure it's a good idea to leave me here?"
"This is not up for discussion," he stated, leading Despair over to her. The beast snuffled at her hair, green mist billowing from its nostrils and making the girl gag. "Keep an eye on her, both of you," he addressed the two creatures, "make sure the Archon doesn't get… curious." Both voiced their understanding, one with a squawk and one with a snort. Death nodded and took a step back. For the first time, he got a good look at the girl.
Tiny and confused, soaked to the skin with rainwater that slowing dripped into a puddle around her sneakers, the girl shivered. The rain had washed the worst of the grime from her face, revealing the slight hollows in her cheeks and the dark smudges beneath her eyes. The ring of bruises around her neck were turning an ugly yellow-green around the edges. With her jacket around her waist, freckle dusted shoulders peaked out of a black sleeveless shirt and her thin arms were marked with scars and slowly healing cuts. She stood uneasily in threadbare jeans, the knees worn through to the skin, the bandage around her left leg tinged pink. 'Miserable' was a good word for how she appeared.
Not for the first time, Death wondered if he'd done the right thing bringing her with him. He could not assume that she would be safe, even if two of his most trusted companions were to watch over her. Most likely the Archon was already aware of their presence. He could only hope that the angel wouldn't find her of any interest.
"I will return soon," he told her, "in the mean time, try not to draw attention to yourself."
"Alright," she said quietly, feeling uncomfortable between the two strange animals. "Just… don't take too long, alright?"
He nodded, leaving the girl in the company of the eldritch beasts.
The angel still stood at the base of the stairs when he returned to the Spire's vestibule.
"Be careful what you wish for, Archon," Death called and the angel turned. The light that radiated from his face was almost too bright to look into. "You might just get it." The Horseman hefted the angelic staff in his hands and the Archon's face seemed to blaze.
"The Rod of Arafel," he said, longing laced into his words. "I have been waiting… so long." The angel snatched the Rod from the rider's hands, running his fingers over its surface almost in a caress. Sparks danced across it at his touch. "It feels… every bit as powerful as I imagined." There was such relish in his voice, as one would have when describing a lover. It frankly made Death a tad uncomfortable.
"Then you should have no problem clearing a path into your city," He said. The last thing he needed was for the Archon to completely ignore him now that he had what he wanted.
"A path?" the angel almost sounded insulted by such a notion. "No. I will clear the entire realm," he turned from the Horseman, facing the corrupted gloom of the Citadel in the distance as the eye of the Rod began to burn with radiant light. "I will burn away the shadows… with Holy Light!" The Archon raised the Rod above his head and the light exploded outwards into a searing beam that bridged that gap between the Spire and the Citadel, burning away the Corruption that covered it like so many shadows before the sun.
The display hardly fazed the Horseman, but it was a notable feat nonetheless.
"If you are to reach the Citadel, you will need wings," the Archon informed him, raising a hand to his lips and letting out a high whistle. Something answered with a shrill cry from above as a winged creature dropped from the top of the Spire. The beast landed hard on the platform, a mixture of a bird of prey and a large cat, its long tail lashing out behind it. It sized up the rider with sharp black eyes, shifting on its haunches as though to pounce. Death sprinted forward, dodging to the side as it's beak snapped inches from his chest, flipping high over its head as it snapped at him again to land squarely on its back. The creature reared, trying to dislodge its unwanted passenger, but the Horseman held fast. Realizing immediately that it would not be able to shake him, the beast settled and allowed Death to guide it. The White City trains its mounts well, he admitted, but only to himself.
"Seek out the Scribe most ancient," the Archon told him as he led the beast to the edge of the Spire, "He still wanders the ruins. He can help you… end your quest." The smile on the angels face was just a little too much like a smirk for Death's liking, but he was not overly worried. If the Archon decided to try and destroy him when he returned with the key, the Horseman could very easily respond in kind.
With a tug on the harness the creature reared once more with a fierce cry, took one bounding leap, and flung itself into the air, its massive wings spread wide to catch the wind and carry the rider to the Ivory Citadel.
Finally free of the Horseman's burning gaze, the girl allowed her legs to collapse beneath her. Realization of the past few minutes crashed into her, threatening to suffocate beneath the sheer gravity of the situation. Her body wracked with shivers, her breath coming in gasping nervous bursts as panic closed its iron claws around her chest. She tried to breathe deeply, in through her nose, out through her mouth, over and over again until her reeling thoughts started to slow. She closed her eyes, setting her forehead on her knees and let the sun warm and dry her damp skin. It was quiet here, almost overwhelmingly so after the demonic screams and crackling fires she had left on Earth.
She was so tired, but though her exhaustion and the warmth of the sunshine tugged enticingly, there was something that kept her on edge. That miasma that lingered on the edge of perception ran cold fingers down her spine, tendrils of black hate just waiting for her to let her guard down. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she didn't want it anywhere near her. So, when she felt it moving closer she felt her panic start to return. Her head snapped up as Dust spread his wings, hissing through an open beak. The cold malice rolled off the Archon like a bank of fog as he approached, huge in his ornate armor and wide wings.
"You there! Human!" the archangel barked, "Do not pretend that you can hide from me! Nothing escapes my sight!"
The girl scrambled unsteadily to her feet as Despair appeared between them, snorting threateningly and tossing its head. The Archon stopped, not wanting to come closer to those shape-edged hooves.
"Don't come any closer!" she shouted, trying desperately to keep the tremble out of her voice. Her rifle had found its way into her shaking hands, but she very much doubted that it would help in this situation.
"Now girl," he said, much softer, "I simply wish to make an inquiry." The horse was not impressed by his attempts to placate it, dancing to and fro to make sure he could take so much as a step closer. And quite frankly, neither was the girl. She had to squint to make out the features of his face through the blinding light, and the alien sensation of an almost physical hatred coming from him was starting to make her head swim. As smooth as his voice was, the girl could feel it, boiling beneath the surface of his calm façade.
"I'd rather not," she replied as evenly as she could, "my parents always warned me not to talk to strangers."
"Why trust the Horseman?" the Archon pressed, ignoring her completely, "This Corruption spreads because of him! Why align yourself with a being that will only deliver you into further torment?"
"Look buddy, I really don't know what you're talking about," she answered, "but I suggest you back off!" Despair reared at her words, hooves thrashing and forcing the Archon to step back.
The angel hissed, a sound that wasn't the least bit angelic. "Once the Horseman has been dealt with, I shall free you of your illusion. Your suffering will end quickly, I promise you."
Strangely, the girl was not comforted. She simply backed up further and let Death's snorting steed bully the archangel into leaving.
The tide of oppressive malice receded with the Archon and the girl could finally breathe easier. Dust croaked from her shoulder in concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she told him, unclenching her hands from around the barrel of the rifle and running them through her hair. "What did he mean by 'dealt with'?" she pondered. Dust lifted his wings in a sort of shrug and the girl sighed. "Well, hopefully he'll get back soon…"
"It was… chaos," the Scribe sputtered, his fat neck caught in the scissor point between Death's crossed blades. "Even the most noble among us abandoned his senses, and took up his sword. I happened to the Archon. It happened to me."
"The Archon…" Death repeated softly, pulling the scythes from where they had the Scribe pinned to the wall. The obese angel slumped against the wall, defeated.
"It was that damned pool!" he snarled as he explained, "Their use was forbidden for a reason. Whatever vision he saw within rent his mind. The Corruption spread from him. He made this city a slaughterhouse, while professing his own purity!"
The Archon, Corrupted? Death's thoughts flashed back to the girl, the way she had faltered upon exiting the portal, her eyes wide with fear as she beheld the archangel. Had she somehow sensed it before the Horseman did? Death reached out with his thoughts, feeling for the feral mind of a certain crow and forging a thin mental link. As far as he could tell from the brief glimpse through Dust's eyes, the girl was still in one piece. That was one worry off his mind at least.
"Eventually, the Archon fled to the Crystal Spire," the Scribe was saying, "He took the key with him."
Anger blazed in the Horseman's eyes. It took all his willpower to not impale the Scribe on the end of his blade then and there, if only for something to take his frustration out on. But no, the Scribe was merely a puppet in a much larger orchestration. The malice in the Archon's voice as he instructed Death suddenly made sense; he had sent the Horseman to the Ivory Citadel to meet his doom. Well, the Archon would find that it took much more than a few Corrupted angels to bring down one of the Four, and Death was through with being toyed with.
Death marched away, leaving the Scribe in his crumbling city and weaving his way back to where the angelic beast awaited his return. Anything that got in his way died quickly and brutally. None stood a chance against the Horseman's wrath. Oh, but he was saving the worst of it for the Archon himself.
The girl wasn't sure how long she had waited, only that she had finally, finally, fallen asleep, lulled by the sunshine and the quiet and the knowledge that Dust and Despair would not allow the angel to come near her again. Still, her dreams were haunted by the agonized screams of friends and family as they were torn to pieces and scorched by fire. This time though, viscous black fluid dripped from their mouths as they whispered in malicious voices, all trying to stoke her anger at her loneliness and despair. Just as she was starting to believe them (yes, she was angry. How dare the demons run her from her home! How dare the Horseman take her away from her vengeance!) another voice shrieked, loud and piercing as an eagle's cry, chasing away the phantoms and draining the anger away.
She woke with a start as the earth shook beneath her. Death's enormous horse stood over her still, but now it pranced and whinnied in a ghostly wail. Looking between its legs, the girl saw the source of the quake; the angelic beast that Death had borrowed had landed heavily before the Archon, the Horseman himself sliding from its back. The Archon, who until that moment had been gazing deep into the pool and muttering to himself, turned to face him.
Death growled. "The key, Archon," he said scathingly, pulling his scythes and setting his stance "I know you have it."
The angel bristled, energy beginning to pop in starbursts around him. "It. Is. MINE!" he shouted, the light of his skin blazing. He looked away, fists clenched hard enough to grate the metal of his gauntlets. "Even though he wanted me to," he ground out through clenched teeth, "I couldn't destroy the key. Surely you understand, Horseman! I did what I had to do!" Death's eyes drifted to the pool behind the angel, and the figure he could have sworn he saw before the image was banished.
"Opened the Well, protected the key from the questions they asked. And from you," the Archon's voice began to distort, warping into something monstrous as black tendrils slithered out around his arms and wings. Corruption bled from the edge of the angel's hood as his eyes bore into the Horseman's. "Only I may bear the key!" he cried, swinging the Rod of Arafel as it lit up, hurtling a great sphere of light toward Death who wasn't quite fast enough.
The magic struck him square in the chest, throwing him up and out past the edge of the Spire. His body crashed through the chunks of floating rock that speckled the landscape before he tumbled to another large platform some distance away. He managed to land on his feet, but the momentum carried him nearly to the opposite edge as he dug in his fingers to slow himself.
Death was upright and back in fighting position before the Archon appeared in a flash, tendrils of Corruption sprouting around him as he slammed down.
"May the light of all that is holy destroy you!" the Archon screamed in a warped voice and launched himself at the Horseman.
Arcane forces sparked and danced across the platform, hurling stones the size of Death's torso and waves of corruption across the battlefield. The Archon hovered above it all on outstretched wings, well beyond the reach of the Horseman's blades. Or so he thought. A ghostly hand whipped from the dust created by the angel's magic, latching onto his armor with an iron grip. A sharp tug threatened to pull him from the sky as Death came hurtling up to meet him as though he too boasted wings. The Horseman impacted against the Corrupted angel's chest with the force of a cannonball and they both plummeted. Before the Archon could stop the fall, Death's boot kicked down hard, turning his momentum into upward motion that forced the angel down all the faster. The Archon hit the ground in an explosion of dust and shards of stone and lay there, facedown and dazed.
Death landed lithely beside him, stomping brutally on the hand the Archon raised against him. In the next instant the Horseman's form shifted into that of the huge skeletal being. The scythe in his hands flashed and the two larger wings fell from the back of the screaming angel. The form melted away in the next and Death poised with arms raised to deliver the finishing blow. The Archon's recovery was swift, for once the Horseman drew close enough the end of the Rod slammed into the ground at his feet, Corrupted energies flinging him back out of reach.
"I fear no evil!" the enraged angel screamed, light blazing with furious intensity from his face. His magic redoubled and even Death himself was hard pressed to avoid the streams of the Archon's attack. He ducked as razor-edged stones sailed overhead, keeping low to get close to the angel only to be pushed back by walls of Corruption that burst from the ground like geysers. Death growled, but he would not let his frustration get the better of him. Eventually the Archon would tire and then… there! The onslaught of magic ground to a halt, but it wasn't because the angel had exhausted himself.
The Archon had begun to convulse, his back arching with a horrible squelching sound. Dripping tendrils of Corruption sprouted from the bloody stumps of his wings and knit together to create dark replacements. Once more the angel took to the skies, laughing madly as the Corruption twisted him further, and the arcane onslaught returned with renewed vigor.
Death, frankly, was getting tired of it. The key was so close and there was nothing but this mad angel standing in the way. The fact that the battle had even lasted this long in the first place frustrated him to no end. He knew that he was weakened, deprived of his full strength without the consent of the Charred Council at his back and that put him at a distinct disadvantage. He would have to finish this quickly.
When next the angel touched down, the Horseman threw himself around the magic and Corruption, taking no heed of the sharp edges and searing heat that bit at his skin. The twin scythes swung with ferocious strength and Death felt them slice through the plating of the Archon's gauntlet before the angel disappeared in a flash before the Horseman could finish cutting him in half. He turned in time to see the angel reappear at the opposite end of the battlefield, and to see the Corrupted sphere of magic hurtling through the air toward him.
Death took off at a dead sprint, moving to the side just enough to allow the energy to whiz harmlessly past his head. The Archon was not going to get away from him this time. The scythes flowed into one weapon as he ducked below another blow, bended his knees, and pushed off into a flying leap, raising the scythe over his head. It came down with a deafening clang, caught on the haft of the Rod, and for a moment Death paused, disbelieving at his own lack of strength. He caught the smile on the mad angel's face just a bit too late as the Archon seemed to explode with light, tossing Death back like a ragdoll. Another flash and the angel was above, bearing down on the Horseman as he lay dazed.
From the vestibule of the Crystal Spire, the girl watched as the world shook with each clash between the Horseman and the angel. She could feel the air sizzling with the Archon's potent magic and the vibrations in her chest with each impact. And, unless her eyes were deceiving her, Death wasn't doing so well. It was odd, she thought. He had seemed so invincible when she first met him, shrugging off blows like flies and shredding through demons like some kind of living blender. But here… The Archon, twisted as he was by Corruption and greed and rage, proved a match for the Horseman.
Squawk! Dust screeched in her ear and the girl jumped.
"AH! What?" she snapped. The bird seemed to glare at her. "What do you want from me? It's not like I can help with something like this!"
The ground shook again and when next the girl looked, the Archon loomed over Death, who lay suspiciously still in the center of the pitted platform. Dust cawed and took off, swooping away to circle above the battlefield.
The girl tugged at her hair. "Ooooh man. Oh man, oh man, of man!" The Archon's threat echoed in her ears; if, somehow, the angel managed to take down the Horseman, she wouldn't be far behind. She clung to the edge of the Spire, eyes darting from Death, to the Archon, to Dust wheeling overhead. Her brow furrowed, a hand rising to rest on the barrel of the rifle on her back. It wouldn't be much, but it was something. After all, she had a damn good view from the top of the Spire.
Death shook his head, clearing the stars from his eyes. The Archon's magic could pack a punch; though he was loathe to admit it. It just meant that he was far weaker than he first thought. The world beneath him lurched as he tried to stand and the back of his neck prickled with gathering magic. Had he been able to recover even a little longer, he would have been able to easily avoid whatever the Archon threw at him, but that required time that he did not have.
Bang! The building pressure was shattered by a sudden gunshot and the Archon faltered in the air with a grunt of pain.
"C'mon Big Guy!" the girl's voice reverberated over the air, clear as a bell in the silence after the shot, "You can take this prick!"
The break in the Archon's concentration didn't last long. As Corruption filled the hole the bullet had left in his spine the angel's magics gathered again. The earth rumbled as one of the great statues lining the platform cracked off at the base. Its immense shadow cast the platform into darkness as the Archon's power lifted the huge stone. But by the time the statue was poised to fall and crush the Horseman, he was already moving. Death held out a hand and the enormous scythe materialized, the blade half buried into the ground. Grabbing hold with both hands, Death jumped to meet the stone as it fell toward him.
With a great crack the statue fell in two. Huge skeletal wings lifted the form of the Reaper from the dust, swinging the scythe and impaling the stunned angel on its curve. The Archon sputtered, a shaking hand gripping the blade where it protruded from his stomach before a savage jerk skewered him further still. His body went slack, insides eviscerated even as the great being swept the scythe around and threw him full force into the dirt in a fountain of blood that glowed black and gold. The body of the once great Archon, Corrupted by his hate and his greed, slid lifelessly over the edge of the platform and into the abyss below.