D3 - That First Spark Ch27

Honestly, the High Heavens was such a straight-forward place: everything was in order, the plants glowed, the water glowed, the Crystal Arch constantly sang and occasionally brought forth a new angel, the joined resonances of the angels enveloped everything. There were definitely not absolute unforeseen things there, like an actual god appearing and giving a half-baked explanation of an already chaotic situation.

Tyrael had to readjust his world view, something he was not really good at. Apparently, at least certain gods of certain human beliefs were real and were busy tending to the world in their own way. This of course brought along a lot of questions, all which only the old Inarius could possibly answer, but not this wrecked, shivering ball in his arms.

- Why don’t you ever listen? – Tyrael sighed helplessly as he climbed out of the tunnel with Inarius, back into the large hall of nephalem stories.

The little angel looked miserable: while no serious physical injuries could be seen, he acted like he had a high fever, with violent shivers and delirious mutterings of Lyndon’s name. The little fingers curled around Tyrael’s coat, impossible to tear away without damaging the clothing as well.

- Inarius, the phantasms are gone now – Tyrael tried weakly to calm the little angel down, but of course no reaction came.

The best he could do was sit down under a slab of the partially collapsed ceiling that formed an almost tent-like cover. With no wood to gather and make a campfire out of, this hardly counted as camp-making. Tyrael gave himself in to his fate with resignation, trying to ignore the cold, his parched throat and the growling of his stomach.

He had no idea what to do now. Lyndon had handled Inarius with natural ease and surprising grace, the little angel was hanging on his every word, but Tyrael had a feeling he wouldn’t have that great of a success in replicating it. They didn’t exactly start off on the right foot, afterall. The best he could come up with was bundling Inarius into his coat’s wings and awkwardly pet his head.

- It’s alright. The danger has passed – he mumbled, helplessly glancing down at his companion.

- Leendonn…

- He is not here. We need to find him, remember? We have to move.

- I want Leendonn…

- I know you do, but we have to find him first—

- Leeeeendooonnn…

Tyrael sighed hopelessly at this. He entertained the idea of getting up from the ground and start walking again, but he was exhausted from the day spent with running from one place to the next. His head, although mended, throbbed at the back where it had collided with the stone wall. Tyrael wrecked his brain, trying to guess what Lyndon would do in this situation, but came up with nothing. At least, nothing that would work for him as well. He petted the small head again.

Tyrael had never really known what to do with his little brother, and apparently this inability followed him to his mortal life as well. Should he be lenient with him? Harsh but fair? Worry constantly for his well-being or let him discover and learn on his own, even if with painful lessons? Back then, even upon being born, Inarius had been far more developed than now, and Tyrael still couldn’t do smack with him. Now, in this state? He had even less of a clue.

Tyrael grimaced as something buzzed in his mind, jumbling his thoughts a bit. He swatted away the diversion, focusing back on the matter at hand.

Lyndon was gentle and kind with Inarius, Tyrael recalled uncertainly. It was quite incredible to see how the scoundrel, who was best known for his thievery and double-crossing shady dealings, showed so much trust towards anybody, and received the same amount in return. Then again, Lyndon did go through a lot, and changed a lot as a result during their adventures together. The same could have been said about everyone involved.

Still, seeing Lyndon as a father figure was truly something remarkable, as well as completely unexpected.

The buzzing was getting louder, and Tyrael needed a few moments to realize why. It wasn’t buzzing, but scuttling, all around them. The fallen angel jumped to his feet with a shout and summoned El’druin into his free hand, scanning the area by its light.

A million empty black beady eyes returned the stare.

oooOOOooo

- Quiet. Interesting choice of name for an angel.

Lyndon almost stopped dead on his tracks at this throw-away comment.

He did not feel his mind being read.

- Get out of my head – he gritted his teeth.

- Weak, small, underdeveloped. Not a true angel.

- I said get out!

- An abomination of creation.

Lyndon whipped around and pointed his simple dagger at Malthael behind him. The angel made no move to get out of the way or take up a fighting stance, instead he waited patiently for the blow. Lyndon took a sharp breath as he reeled in his emotions, and erected a mental defense around his mind as best as he could, with no real training. His green blazing eyes bore holes into his unwanted companion, but he refrained from stabbing him.

Of course Malthael would not give up so easily on his quest. However, Lyndon could play this mind game as well.

- He’s no true angel, huh? – he echoed, putting away his dagger. – I wonder what the Crystal Arch would have to say about that.

Malthael remained silent but he ducked and pulled back his head a bit more than usual, giving away his discomfort and silent anger.

- What did it say, again? “You are no angel”? – Lyndon went on, turning back towards his path and continuing down on it.

- Silence.

- You have no right to talk, you rejected mistake of Creation – the scoundrel snorted, waving dismissively.

Sixth sense flaring up, he instinctively teleported a couple meters forward, swiftly evading the strike coming from behind. Malthael’s terrifying focus was nowhere to be found, and a small part of Lyndon (a quite idiotic part, no doubt) even enjoyed pissing the angel off.

There was a sense of triumph in seeing this high and mighty archangel be this disheveled.

Malthael’s snap quickly ended and the unlikely pair fell back into their normal, silent trudging through these ruins. Once again, Lyndon entertained the idea of simply teleporting away from the angel, shaking him off that way. But so far he couldn’t muster his courage to do it. Having more than enough time to ponder, he came to the conclusion that the more he thought about the action of teleporting, the more likely he screwed it up. Recalling every occasion he executed it perfectly, it was obvious they were instinctive and instantaneous. Lyndon simply couldn’t stop himself from thinking too hard on where to teleport to away from Malthael, and that would have ended up in a disaster. He could land in a room with no exit, or above a bottomless pit, or right on top of a smaller army of those Flesh Golem bastards Adria had left behind, or straight into a scarab nest, or…

Lyndon just gave up and focused back on the road ahead. So far everything was silent and dark, nothing came their way. His time would come when he would shake off this silent bastard behind him, but until then…

- That angel’s very existence forced you to run from your friends like a fugitive.

… Lyndon would need to learn to better wall off his mind.

- It’s okay – he spat with venom. – I wasn’t planning on staying with them for long anyway.

- Yet you are scared, aimless… you wish things could be normal again. That you could be normal again.

-… You do not want to go there, angel – Lyndon said in a dangerously low voice.

The second the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake.

- You are drowning in questions – the angel went on, excitement almost noticeable in his bland voice. – You do not know why you are doing this, what you would gain from all this pain and misery you have endured. You do not know why everyone you loved and cared about turn to a dark path, why your friends want you dead. You do not know why you are different now.

- Malthael…

- Everything is the fault of that little angel—

Lyndon tore off his crossbow from his back, turned around and fired faster than even he thought possible. The bolt of light embedded itself into Malthael’s right shoulder, causing him to stagger back and fall over. The angel took a ragged breath and reached for the bolt, but Lyndon was faster. He forcefully stepped onto the hand reaching for the arrow, pinning it against the chest, then yanked the bolt out of the body. Malthael hissed in pain, or perhaps in anger, it was hard to tell. Lyndon kept his eyes on him as he let the bolt disintegrate among his fingers.

- Reading my mind without my consent is one thing, Malthael – he said slowly and evenly. – But lacing my own problems and thoughts with lies is another. Quiet has nothing to do with this mess I am in, and I damn well know that. You leave him out of this.

- Or what? Will you kill me?

- You see this place? – Lyndon gestured around almost nonchalantly. – Do you know anything about Corvus, Death, or are you only knowledgeable in angelic history?

Malthael remained silent, seething with anger.

- Nobody knows this place is here, only a handful of people. But even those know very little of it – Lyndon added before leaning in closer and hissing malevolently. – I will find a dark room with no light and no exits, deep underground. I will trap you in there, where no one will ever find you. You will stay there, you won’t die, you won’t return to the Crystal Arch. And you will never see the light ever again, angel. Do you understand me?

The deadly glare was palpable from under that bottomless hood.

- I killed thousands upon thousands. I will kill more, if you leave me alive, nephalem – Malthael rumbled.

- You think yourself superior with your mind reading, but we humans can read others easily as well – Lyndon’s eyes gleamed. – You can no longer kill anyone. You can no longer do anything, really. These are all clearly shown on your appearance.

He lifted his boot from the angel’s chest and holstered his crossbow once more, turning back to the path he had been following.

- You know damn well that if you repeat your little stunt, you will have even less chance at passing through the Arch after dying than before – he added nonchalantly.

Malthael too stood up, clutching the slightly bleeding wound on his shoulder.

- This is not over yet. You have doubts. I will use them.

- Of course. Tell me, what are your thoughts on releasing the united Prime Evil onto your people again? – Lyndon threw this comment over his shoulder.

Malthael visibly flinched and ducked his head.

- That’s what the hell I thought, Angel of Death – Lyndon grumbled.

Silence settled back in, broken only by their footsteps.

oooOOOooo

That comment about the Prime Evil had shut Malthael up really effectively for a good while.

He remained silent even when Lyndon finally stopped after some hours to dig through his backpack for some food. He checked what Captain Haile had prepared for them, and was pleasantly surprised by the beef jerkies, dried fruits and hard tacks, all meant for the long run. Haile truly was a military man, and he knew what he was doing. While the food itself was not exactly first-class, it was more than perfect for travelers or those on the run.

There was only one problem: Lyndon had one flask of water stacked away, and unless he found his way out of here by the time that ran out, it would be difficult to replenish. During their travels, Quiet had taken care of that problem with ease when there was no water source nearby.

I got spoiled, Lyndon thought with a small smile as he bit down on one beef jerky, sitting on the floor.

- You hungry? – he asked out of habit, offering a hard tack for Malthael who just stood next to him like a statue.

- Angels do not eat.

- Quiet does… some things, at least.

- He is an abomination of nature.

- Whatever you say, Angel of Death. Because you are so natural.

-…

- Does that mean I am right?

- You certainly have a way with words. Not like the Nephalem.

- Is that a compliment? Never thought I would hear such a thing from you – Lyndon glanced up at his “guard”, honestly surprised by the comment.

- Demons have a way with words too.

- As do you, eh? What about Urzael, and all the maidens and others who followed you into Death?

- They saw the inherent evil of your species, nephalem.

- And all of them, every single last one of them came to the same conclusion that shunning their aspect and turning evil was the best solution to that problem. Right?

Malthael fell silent once again.

- You have led your own people into ruin, Malthael – Lyndon shrugged. – I can’t even imagine how many of them suffered the same rejection as you—

He casually teleported some meters away, with backpack and everything, avoiding the snake-like strike coming his way.

- Lashing out at the harsh truth won’t make it go away – he said matter-of-factly, finishing his brief meal. – If you were Wisdom, you would know this.

- You have no idea about wisdom, nephalem – Malthael growled, slowly reverting back into his statue-like state after that brief outburst.

- Of course. I certainly wouldn’t be able to compete with your former self. But things have changed much since the glory days, haven’t they, Death? – Lyndon stood up, gathering his stuff, and setting out once again in this featureless corridor.

That is, until they passed a certain part of the wall. It shifted and sunk into the floor, turning out to be a door and responding to Lyndon’s presence. The scoundrel had a fraction of a second to teleport out of the way of the red fist that flew at his face. He landed behind Malthael, almost losing his footing. From the newly revealed doorway, a Flesh Gorger burst out with a mighty roar. Then another one followed it. Then another, then another…

- I thought these ruins were supposed to aid a nephalem, gods damnit! – Lyndon shrieked angrily as he laid eyes on the horde of at least a dozen Flesh Gorgers blocking their way forward.

- Demonic magic – Malthael grumbled, slowly retreating.

- Out of my way, you useless waste of space! – the scoundrel barked angrily, swooping past the angel.

He was really not in the mood to run away from a bunch of monsters that would no doubt follow him. He readied his crossbow and fired a shot into the closest one. The Gorger screeched in pain as the light bolt scorched its demonic flesh, cutting through it like it was butter. Before it could even tumble onto the ground, Lyndon already fired the next arrow into the beast behind it.

He truly loved his new weapon.

The Flesh Gorgers, less so. After immediately losing two of theirs, they charged forward with a defiant roar. Lyndon fired one more bolt into their midst before picturing appearing behind the horde in his mind. He teleported… right above one of the Gorgers in the middle and landed on it hard. The monster honked in alarm and scrambled around, Lyndon found himself grabbing onto the scaly back and spiked shoulders, shouting profanities as he held on for dear life. The rest of the thick-skulled beasts need a minute or two to catch up with the sudden twist, while their kin lumbered around trying to shake off its rider. The perfect crossbow came rattling among the many feet of the monsters, just barely not getting trampled.

Still hissing curses at everyone and everything, Lyndon yanked his dagger out of his belt and channeling his green power into it, he slashed across the wide red back, cutting through the neck as well. His mount stumbled forward and he found himself among the remaining Gorgers. With a defiant shout, Lyndon threw himself at them, relying heavily on his sixth sense not to get smashed into a pulp in the first three seconds. The beasts struck at him but he skidded on the ground between his legs, slashing through their thighs with such force it actually severed the legs from the rest of the body. He sprung up, striking with his blade in a wide arch and raking up the sides of some. He danced away from the enraged punches, taking down more and more of his opponents. Finally, he yanked his dagger out of the forehead of a Flesh Gorger, seeing no more before himself.

His sixth sense flared up, but his body was too tired to act fast enough and he was jerked up from the ground and thrown into one of the corridor walls so hard it rattled his entire skeleton. He tumbled to the ground in a broken heap, forcing his eyes open. Three Gorgers stayed alive, all standing behind his back the whole time. With a triumphant roar they raised their fists, ready to charge.

The one in the back suddenly went under, crushed into the ground. The second one was swatted aside like it weighted nothing, it flew through the wall. The last one tilted its head back, but two pale-skinned hands grabbed its maw and with a sickening crunch broke its neck, then flinging the limp body away like trash. The end of the struggle revealed Malthael, standing where the last Gorgers stood a moment ago, hands slowly sinking back into the long sleeves and arms falling limply by his side.

Lyndon tried to push his body up from the ground. While the backpack itself worked as a kind of cushion between his back and the wall, this “cushion” was still stuffed with bags of gold coins, a walking cane and food. He thought he felt a spreading wet feeling there too. Either that was his blood, or the crushed and completely ruined water sack. He honestly hoped it was the latter right about then. His body refused to move though, and a dull pain exploded into his back. Lyndon’s breathing grew rapid with growing panic as he imagined more and more horrifying injuries there.

- Oh gods – he breathed, sweat trickling down on his forehead.

Malthael slowly walked up to him, then crouched down, placing his hand between the backpack and body. Lyndon stiffened up, expecting a blow or a curse, but the magic trickling into his back was of the mending type. It was cool and soothing, even if dismayingly weak and slow.

- I thought… you hated all humans – Lyndon pointed out weakly, coughing a bit, shivering from the spell.

- You cannot kill me if you are dead, nephalem.

- Those Flesh Gorgers could… do the trick as well, you know.

- I do not bow down to mindless beasts.

Lyndon couldn’t help the wry smile that crawled up on his face. If nothing else, he could still count on the natural pride the angel yet possessed even after everything. That was useful information.

Malthael’s healing magic, while definitely working, was weaker than any healers’ Lyndon had ever gone to in his life. They would be here for a while.

- Damn… you are worse than a little girl that started practicing healing a weak ago – he chuckled weakly.

- Do you wish to stand again, demonspawn?

- Yes, I would very much like to. Thank you for ask—

- Then silence.

- Hey now, no need to sulk just because you lost most of your awesome powers.

- I said silence.

- At least now you know how Tyrael is feeling in his situation – Lyndon pointed out then finally fell quiet, content with just lying on the floor and gathering his strength.

Malthael looming over him like a crow did not really ease the atmosphere, but the scoundrel was too tired to really pay attention to that. With the cool magic spreading throughout his muscles and bones, and his somehow unscratched crossbow lying not too far from them, Lyndon felt like it would be the perfect time to doze off a bit.

That is, until his ears picked up an irritating and characteristic scuttling further down the corridor.