‘Why’d we come so far up?’ Ilgrin panted, glancing at the ground, so far below that it was difficult to make anything out in detail. He then turned to stare at the imposing clouds, so close he could’ve touched them with a few cautiously chosen wing beats. He was about to look away, but something unusual held his attention. ‘Do they always move like that?’
‘What?’ Noah replied. ‘All over the place?’
‘No.’ Ilgrin squinted through the darkness. ‘They’re all moving north.’
‘What?’ Noah and Teah turned to look at the clouds.
‘Maker! I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Teah exclaimed, watching the whisps moving in and out of each other while churning steadily north.
‘Never mind that,’ Noah stated firmly, despite the confusion evident in his expression. ‘We’ve come up this high because most people never do,’ he answered Ilgrin’s original question. ‘Now follow me and keep your mouth shut.’ He hurried along the branch toward a heavy wooden door and banged on it three times with the underside of his fist.
‘Prince Noah,’ a young silt gasped when he pulled open the door. ‘You know the Devil doesn’t like anyone entering the tree so high up.’
‘I’ll enter wherever I please,’ Noah snapped. ‘Follow me,’ he called back to the others.
‘You’re not supposed to bring anyone in here!’ the doorman cried out in distress.
‘Ignore him,’ Noah hissed firmly as they entered a long tunnel lit by lanterns.
Ilgrin followed through various passageways until he found himself standing on a ledge that opened out into an immense chamber that ran down the length of the giant tree. The few silts who continued about their usual duties in a time of war did so at a reduced pace--that was, until they recognised Noah’s presence.
‘This way,’ he said, pulling back his wings and leaping off the ledge. Ilgrin gaped as the silt plummeted, his wings remaining closed.
‘You’ll get used to it.’ Teah smiled reassuringly as she followed Noah’s lead and stepped over the edge.
Ilgrin swallowed nervously as he watched the angel fall. ‘Nothing to it,’ he whispered to himself, pulling in his wings and taking a step into the abyss. The air tore at Ilgrin’s face and his clothing billowed as he fell. As tempting as it was for Ilgrin to open his wings, he knew that if he did so, he’d lose the others or be stopped and questioned by tree staff.
As he descended, Ilgrin became painfully aware of his upcoming challenge. Bridges spanning the hollow interior were becoming increasingly numerous as the circumference increased. Below him, Noah and Teah would occasionally flick out a wing to slip around a branch or dodge a flying silt. Ilgrin had very little faith in his capacity to duplicate such manoeuvres, but soon found himself out of time to think about it.
Ilgrin cringed at the realisation that he was on a direct collision course with a rather wide pathway. He tentatively opened his right ring, but the action sent him spiralling uncontrollably. Flashes of irritated faces crossed his vision as he flipped about the vast space. The branch he’d been trying to miss flew passed his field of vision. Fearing for his life, Ilgrin thrust out both wings, but the force of his fall was such that he couldn’t regain control. His wings snapped back painfully and Ilgrin cried out as he slammed into a wall and bounced off, blood spraying away from his nose.
Landing heavily on a path below, Ilgrin had but a moment to moan in pain before the weight of his dangling legs dragged him back into empty space. El-i-miir’s face flashed across his vision and for a moment he thought he’d imagined it. But as he spiralled through the air he once again glimpsed her as she was being led through a passage surrounded by silts. Their eyes met for a moment, but it was enough for Ilgrin to be certain of her identity.
He tried to slow his descent with the intention of flying back up to find her, but again Ilgrin’s lack of ability let him down. His leg cracked against a branch. He reached for another, but missed and wound up slamming his wing against a passing silt. The pair became tangled and fell out of control, the other silt shouting profanities before shaking free and disappearing in the opposite direction.
Ilgrin’s wing throbbed painfully. He feared he’d broken it. The criss-crossing branches became less numerous, but only because the ground was fast approaching. Ilgrin cried out and spread his good wing, but the action only served to send him spinning yet again.
Toes snapped aggressively around Ilgrin’s left leg and arm and powerful wings corrected his path. Noah gritted his teeth as he stabilised himself and flew furiously for a tunnel in the tree wall.
‘Are you trying to get us killed!?’ he shouted, his face flushed blue with anger. He pitched his legs forward and threw Ilgrin into the tunnel before entering and landing behind him.
Ilgrin tumbled across the floor until he hit a wall and came to a stop. Just as he’d feared, his wing was bent unnaturally and his face was hot and swollen.
‘Maker, Enoch,’ Teah whispered. ‘What a mess.’
‘Don’t call him that here,’ Noah hissed. ‘Too many people know that name. Now get up. I won’t have you ruin this for me. We’re too close.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Ilgrin asked through a nose blocked with blood.
‘Just get the torrid up,’ Noah spat furiously.
‘I can’t,’ Ilgrin moaned. ‘I think my leg is broken.’
‘Oh, for Maker’s damned sake,’ Noah growled, approaching Ilgrin aggressively. He put a finger inches from his face and stared at him hatefully, before putting a hand flat against Ilgrin’s chest. ‘I don’t have time for this.’
Ilgrin’s body burned as his bones slithered back into their correct positions. New flesh swept over his wounds, sealing blood within his veins. ‘You can’t,’ he gasped.
Noah gritted his teeth. ‘I can.’
‘Noah, we don’t have any sieifts!’ Teah said in distress.
‘That’s not my problem,’ the demon hissed as he released Ilgrin and thrust him back against the wall. ‘Now get up!’ Noah shouted, but did not wait, instead dragging Ilgrin to his feet.
He felt sick. Ilgrin’s flesh became grey. Noah didn’t care and continued to shove him along the passageway. Ilgrin gagged and coughed up the first puff of black mist. He coughed once or twice more before bending over to vomit darkness. It squeezed unforgivingly from Ilgrin’s flesh. Noah shoved him onward.
‘For Maker’s sake,’ Teah snapped. ‘Let him rest.’
‘Keep moving,’ Noah spat, retrieving a pistol from his pocket.
‘Noah!’ Teah cried. ‘Have you lost your mind?’ She raised her hands defensively.
‘Try it.’ Noah narrowed his eyes at her. ‘If you think you’re faster than me, try it,’ he challenged. ‘Because I swear to Maker I’ll pull this trigger and a silver bullet through his brains the second you even think about using your powers against me.’
‘Okay,' Teah said shakily, ‘you win.’
Ilgrin shuddered as the last of the whisp fell away from his skin and slithered back down the length of the tunnel, no doubt in search of prey. With warmth returning to his flesh, Ilgrin was better able to contemplate the situation at hand.
‘What do you hope to accomplish here, Noah?’ he asked, while continuing on with Noah’s pistol pressed into his back.
‘Keep moving,’ Noah snapped. ‘You want your crown, don’t you? Well, there it is.’ He pointed toward a heavy iron door. It was slightly ajar and there wasn’t a guard to be seen.
‘I don’t understand,’ Ilgrin murmured. ‘You could’ve just killed me in the caves. Why go to so much trouble? The Devil would go on being the Devil.’
‘What makes you think I intend him to remain the Devil?’ Noah said with a sly chuckle.
‘Oh, it’s exquisite,’ May’s soft voice floated out of the treasury.
‘Isn’t it just?’ an old man rumbled back. ‘It’ll all be yours someday. I have no idea why you’re in love with him. My son’s an idiot. But I do so look forward to having you as a d
aughter-in-law.’
Ilgrin and Teah, followed by Noah came around the corner and through the door. An old silt, who could only have been the Devil, stared in disbelief as his son moved his pistol away from the back of Ilgrin’s head and pulled the trigger. The explosion echoed about the chamber filled with the Devil’s precious treasures. The bullet struck its target between the eyes. The Devil landed on his knees, the circle on his forehead filling with blood as he fell to his face.
‘Catch!’ Noah shouted as he arched his arm and threw the pistol at Ilgrin. He caught the weapon without thinking and stared at it in disbelief. Before he had the chance to toss it aside a troop of silt guards poured into the room.
‘Arrest that man,’ Noah commanded. ‘He just assassinated the Devil. Arrest the angel, too. He used the creature to break into the tree.’
‘No!’ Ilgrin cried, dropping the pistol and backing away. ‘I’d never.’
‘It’s true,’ May piped in. ‘I saw everything.’
‘Enoch!’ Teah cried desperately. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear to Maker, I didn’t know.’
‘Get him, you fools!’ Noah shouted and at last the guards reacted, leaping toward Ilgrin.
‘Ilgrin! The crown!’ Teah shrieked, pointing across the treasury. The guards threw their arms around Ilgrin to restrain him but all at once their grip weakened and Teah started shouting.
‘Run!’ she shrieked at Ilgrin as she thrust out her hands and the room filled with cries of agony as the angel afflicted everyone but him with her angelic power. The men squirmed and cried out, covering their ears and gouging at their faces as they writhed in pain.
Ilgrin hurried across the chamber toward the devil’s crown. There it stood, perched high above the other treasures, a golden crown encrusted with rubies and bearing large curled goat horns of pure diamond. Teah gasped, her strength having abandoned her and fell to her knees. The room started filling with white mist as the men vomited or struggled to their feet. Some were dead and unable to get up, their bodies almost obscured by the perfect white sieift.
Ilgrin raced across the room, beat his wings and leapt into the air. The few guards remaining chased after him. Ilgrin thrust out his hand as a guard snatched at his foot and pulled. Ilgrin kicked him in the face and the guard let go. He beat his wings with renewed vigour and wrapped his fingers around one of the great diamond horns, retrieving the crown from its pedestal.
‘I have it!’ Ilgrin cried victoriously. ‘It’s mine.’
Having clambered to his feet, Noah stumbled back against the wall, a look off utter disbelief on his face. The guard closest to Ilgrin froze in his tracks, his mouth falling open at the site before him. Teah stood slowly, a smile touching the edges of her mouth. The sieift swept up against the side of the tree and disappeared leaving the room full of silts with a clear view of Ilgrin standing before them, Sa’Tan’s crown in his grasp. ‘Anyone who can take this from me may keep it.’
‘It’s a fake!’ Noah roared. ‘Nobody can touch the true crown. Arrest him. He assassinated the Devil.’
One of the guards crossed the room and put a hand around the crown only to flush blue and cry out in anguish. He pulled back to find his palm blistering, his flesh having been boiled in an instant. A second silt approached, reaching out to heal his friend’s wound.
‘No,’ Ilgrin commanded. ‘Not that. There will be no more healing in the kingdom of Hel. He can go home and nurse his wound like everyone else.’
‘Everyone else?’ Noah spat. ‘Who is “everyone else”? They can’t be silts, because everyone around here uses the gift Maker blessed us with. Well, Ilgrin? Who is your “everyone else”? Could it be those filthy humans you love so much?’
‘Arrest him.’ Ilgrin stepped forward, placing the crown atop his head as he went. ‘The kingdom of Hel will answer to me, the last living decedent of Sa’Tan. I am Sa’Enoch, the one true living Devil.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FAR-A-MAEL’S WAR
Having received fresh supplies from Kintor, the great army was again marching steadily south with Far-a-mael and King Harundor at its forefront. It would have been better for the Jenjen to see Seeol out the front as well, but Far-a-mael had arranged to keep the bird-man as far away as possible for fear of his reaction once the fighting began. In Far-a-mael’s experience, having leaders at the front created a sense of security and respect in the men. It was an illusion, of course. Far-a-mael knew better than anyone that a confrontation with silts had no front or back. The legion might land behind them or right in their midst.
A pink film dribbled across Far-a-mael’s eye, momentarily obscuring his vision. He wiped the substance away and glanced at the black clouds above. They were well into Old World territory and Far-a-mael was able to make out distant trees that’d been grown into unnatural shapes. The structures were silt homes.
The Ways spluttered in and out of existence for Far-a-mael, his decaying body having become less able to sense them. Still, he focused on the broken strands of light that danced around him and noticed a strange discolouration--invisible to any but the Elglair eye--in the distant sky. He raised his hand and as one the army ground to a halt. Eerie silence filled the air, only to be replaced by a steady buzzing din. The sound was that of beating wings and soon enough Far-a-mael saw them.
The dark figures tore through the night sky, their wings becoming increasingly loud as they approached. ‘Catapults,’ Far-a-mael called and was satisfied to hear his orders being repeated down the lines of men. The silts came closer and closer, soon filling up the sky and causing the men to shuffle nervously.
‘Fire!’ Far-a-mael shouted.
Massive stones were launched into the air targeted at the steadily approaching legion. Many silts were able to dive out of the way. Others were less fortunate. Far-a-mael smiled as limp bodies sprayed across the sky, but his smile was lost as others pursued and resurrected them before they could hit the ground.
‘Archers!’ Far-a-mael called, satisfied in the knowledge that many of the arrows had been tipped with silver. ‘Fire!’
Thousands of arrows whistled toward the silt legion and soon a spray of the creatures fell like rain from the air. At first others went after them, but when their attempts at resurrection failed, they knew that they’d been bested. Realising that the time was short to use his greatest advantage, Far-a-mael ran over to the nearest catapult and ordered the operators to load the black powder bombs. They were a new invention introduced to him by the alchemists of Jenjol, but Far-a-mael was satisfied by their capacity for destruction.
‘Fire!’ he roared. Weighted capsules of burning black powder sailed through the air. Several failed to explode. Others whizzed through the ranks of silts and exploded too late . . . but others. Far-a-mael laughed in the glory of it all as the capsules blew up: thunderous balls of fire. Countless silts were incinerated, instantly rendering them far too dead to resurrect. Others fell away, screaming and burning. Some of them tried to keep flying, but quickly lost their strength.
‘Isn’t it beautiful, Sar-ni,’ Far-a-mael sang out joyously. ‘It’s all for you!’
Then came the return fire and Far-a-mael ceased his rejoice. Silt arrows rained down upon the great army of New World. Men threw up shields while others were struck dead.
‘Fire at will!’ Far-a-mael shouted furiously as the silt legion started flaring wings for descent.
Far-a-mael took the opportunity to squint into the distance. There he saw something that brought a grim smile to his decay-hardened and cracking lips. Twenty horses galloped with their twenty Elglair riders. The Sa’Tanist affiliates. He’d waited so long to meet them in battle. Craning his neck, Far-a-mael caught a glimpse of several silts flying rather cumbersomely, a familiar glimmer of angelic light occasionally flashing into existence above them.
A man several strides to Far-a-mael’s left was the first to be taken into the air. A demon thrust out his metal taloned feet and tore the soldier into the sky. There the creature ripp
ed him in half and allowed the pieces to fall. Blood sprayed across Far-a-mael’s face as he tore free his pistol with one hand and his sword with the other. A Jenjen soldier fell screaming in fits of agony before dying, white mist forcing its way from his flesh.
Flaring his wings, a demon landed before Far-a-mael. ‘You think to attack Hades and live?’ The creature laughed and swung his scythe.
‘I do.’ Far-a-mael evaded the weapon easily and burrowed into the creature’s aura. A moment later the silt hit the ground begging for mercy and crying like a child. Far-a-mael took his sword and ploughed it through the demon’s heart. He smiled in satisfaction as its disgusting blue blood spilled onto the grass.
‘Stop this!’ a familiar voice cried. ‘How could you? You haves trickst us.’
Far-a-mael turned around in time to see Seeol slam into him bodily. The two tumbled across the grass to the sound of Far-a-mael’s breaking bones.
‘Get off me.’ Far-a-mael wrestled through mud and blood in an attempt to push Seeol away.
‘You trickst me!’ The man’s face was red as he screamed. ‘This ones are my friendlies. My friendlies! You is an evil, nasty monster.’
‘Get off me.’ Far-a-mael punched Seeol in the face, having to resort to physical violence in the absence of an aura. He heard some of his knuckles popping with the impact.
‘Ouch,’ Seeol moaned, holding his nose tentatively.
‘I don’t want to kill you.’ Far-a-mael put his pistol between Seeol’s eyes. ‘Don’t leave me without a choice.’
‘You is killing my frienssshh,’ Seeol sobbed and as he did so his tongue changed shape to that of an elf owl’s. At the same time a silt hit the ground behind him and swung her sword.
‘Watch out.’ Far-a-mael tried to aim his pistol around the young man, but couldn’t manage a clear shot.
‘Ish!’ Seeol cried unintelligibly, scratching at his mouth and bending over in pain. The sword flew over his head, spun in a complete circle--its owner having lost her grip--and plunged deep into the silt’s throat. She fell to the earth, her eyes closing in death.