The Warlord

Chapter 34: Calthius

"Lift your head, Calthius." 

In the swirling blackness, with my head spinning itself in circles, I manage to crack open an eyelid. My eyes have not seen light in what seems like an eternity, not since I shut them away, trying to escape from everything that was unfolding in front of me. Slowly, the same red rock and dust comes into view, and even the shadows seem bright when I raise my drooping head. My body still sags against the chains, but I feel numb, uncaring, beyond reach of emotion and thought.

"A pity that the prince of Heaven has fallen so far." A different voice, and as I struggle to focus my vision, I recognize the cat-like, taunting tone as Zarul's.

What is he doing here? Black spots still cloud my view, but I see the stocky yet tall frame of my father, and the lithe figure of the angel of death. I frown as everything starts to sharpen, but before I can glimpse anything of use, my father turns towards me and blocks out everything.

"In time, he will learn to stand on the winning side. But for now, enjoy your new companions, Calthius." I can see the glint of his teeth in the harsh, red glow, as he chuckles and turns away.

Then a black ball of magic forms in front of me within my cage, churning until it grows large enough for even my father to step through. Suddenly, two figures fly out from the portal, landing in a heap of dust at my feet. However I am almost too entranced by the magic to notice. It stinks of something bred in Hell, but the familiar purity of Heaven is also there. So they really did combine Heaven and Hell. I want to vomit, but then my gaze lands on the two people crumpled on the ground in front of me.

A tangle of black hair and dark feathers, and then one of them sits up with blinding speed, a dagger already in her hand. She leaps to her feet, brandishing her weapon, her gaze fixed on Zarul. "You! How did you get here? I was assured that gods cannot enter Hell!" She snarls, stepping in front of the other girl still on the ground.

"But I am no longer a god, foolish girl," Zarul laughs, tilting his head back, the sound harsh and merciless. "I am something far beyond your reach. Did you really think I would let you get to the witchling?"

The girl spits, a clean shot, right through the gaps in the bars, but by the time it hits the ground, Zarul has vanished. And once again, the stench of the otherworldly magic haunts the air. Growling in frustration, she whirls towards my father, another dagger flashing in her free hand. "Who are you?" She demands as her companion begins to stir. If she notices, she does not betray anything.

"Why, shouldn't you know who I am by now? Or has your time in the palace dimmed your memories of the battlefield so much?"

A shock seems to spread through the girl as she instantly backs away, dropping into a more defensive position. "No," she gasps. "No, what are you doing here? In Hell, no less?"

"Did you not hear Zarul? I am no longer a god." A manic smile rips across his face. "But do not fear, I have use for you. Perhaps as a hostage, or as a bargaining chip, or even a soldier."

She slips both daggers into her sleeves and stands up tall. "You will find that I am quite the opposite. No one wants me, no one misses me, you are wasting your time. Why not let me go? After all, I am essentially an ordinary civilian to you at this point."

"I thought you could do better than that. Zarul was right; you are a foolish girl. Do not think that I do not know your intention of finding the witchling and bringing her back to Serestine." The smile is still on his face, but now a menacing tint creeps into his eyes. The girl, stunned into silence, only clenches her fists and glares. Then my father turns around before blinking out of existence; he probably teleported away.