by Doug Burbey
It took effort to get through, but he noticed the area didn't have much debris on the ground. While it was tight, he could get through, though not if he'd developed a beer belly.
The cooler air in the crevice blew fresh against his face, making him think there had to be some other cracks that let fresh air in. A sudden thought struck him and he stopped and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed as he reached for fire – and found none.
Whew, this being a volcano would have sucked.
Reaching for fire always told him if the geology was active. Even if something wasn't labeled as a volcano, he'd rather check. Minor earthquakes on volcanoes were common and being trapped here would suck.
The crack opened with suddenness into a largish space, well about ten feet across. Another small crack led back towards where he'd first sensed the magic. It still called to him, but stronger now and he had to force himself to slow down and move carefully. Getting hurt in here might get him killed.
He stood there looking around, trying to figure out what felt wrong and it finally clicked. There were no lifeforms in this crevice - no bats, no snakes, no mice or no other mammals. A few insects, but nothing like there should have been.
This set off even more warning signals. Why wouldn't there be life in here? The desert teemed with it, so they should have flocked to a protected area like this. And instead they avoided it. While that worried him, it also implied maybe there was something that chased them away and he'd already removed volcano as a possibility.
This crevice seemed wider than the last one and he moved through it carefully, the magic pull now so strong he didn't even have to reach for it. It called to him like a pied piper, leading him into the depths of the mountain. Still he watched and moved carefully, something chased animals away.
A glimmer of light appeared up ahead and he shut off his flashlight. Shane stood there waiting for his eyes to adapt to the change and he focused more on the light. It flickered and moved like firelight wound.
What in the world?
Shane didn't know what this meant. He'd seen no signs of people as he moved through, but that had to be firelight up ahead. He reached this time, out and not down. Yes, he could sense three sets of flames, all small, normal in a house. It felt like a fireplace and two candles.
Frowning, he cycled through the other types, but other than strong magic, he didn't ping on anything that told him what was there.
And I'm out of blood, dammit.
Options went through his mind. Power wise, he'd be on his own resources. He could call fire easily, but any beguiling would drain him. Though maybe purely physical was an option. He set down his pack as it wouldn't fit through some parts of the crevice if he had worn it on his back. He pulled out his 9mm, flipped off the safety and moved towards the light, listening carefully.
The light grew brighter as he approached and the faint scent of burning wood and smoke reached his nose and the light continued to flicker. The passage was cool, but not really cold. The candles made sense for light but the fire didn't make as much sense except from an emotional perspective. Fire always tended to make you feel better.
He stopped at the edge of the opening, trying to decide what to do. Magic all but radiated out of the opening, but a flavor of magic he could recognize.
Go in? Is someone in there? Is this a whole Indiana Jones sort of thing with torches and traps waiting to be sprung? Everything else I've found was forgotten about centuries ago. Well, standing here is not going to get me what I need.
Shane inhaled slowly and started to pivot to step in front of the crack.
"Mights as well come ins. Lurking's distractaling me." The voice pitched so low it almost vibrated on his bones. It also sounded like he and DK did when they were on a bender, mangling words as they reached for the next drink.
17
Yes, Virginia
Shane felt his heart lurch into his throat as he tried to place the voice. Even the deepest baritone he'd ever heard he hadn’t felt in his bones.
"Welsh? Coming ins?" The voice spoke and Shane did what he usually did in these situations.
Fuck it.
He stepped into the opening, gun aimed down, but his finger on the trigger. The crack opened to reveal a large room that had obviously been carved out of the mountain. A firepit on one side, a bed to another, candles attached to the walls, a table, and an Adirondack wooden chair. It was the figure in the chair that captured his attention.
A figure slumped in a chair, long honey brown hair that cascaded down from a face that should have been perfect. It had a chiseled nose, high cheek bones, and full lips. He also had bags under his bloodshot eyes, and stains on his mouth and fingers from the object clenched in his hands. Wings draped over the back of the chair with feathers that Shane knew should have been white but were dirty and bedraggled, like a scruffy chicken.
Shane looked at him and his mouth worked before his brain kicked in. "Is that an opium pipe? Are you smoking opium?" He couldn't help himself. He could see where this should be an awe-inspiring glorious being but instead, he saw a drugged out addict.
"Shore am. Makes me fuzzy. Is nice. I don't ache when the smoke wraps around my essence." His voice became clearer in those few words and he frowned and took another hit from the pipe. His face sagged a bit, losing any hint of personality.
"Oh, I don't fucking believe this." Shane stormed over and grabbed the pipe from the angel's unresisting hands. For a minute he thought about throwing it in the fireplace but figured having the entire place fill with opium smoke wouldn't help him either.
He stalked outside and set it down outside then came back in, his gun holstered and his bag in his hand. A small stool sat near the fireplace and he pulled it over, sitting on it in front of the angel and he stared at the being.
Man? Is it male? It meets human definitions of masculine appearance. But the demons didn't seem to have genders the way we do. Are angels the same?
He pushed the idea away because right now it didn't matter. As he waited for the opium to fade from the Angel, he inspected the room. His hopes fell a bit as he realized how absolutely barren it was. The most exotic thing he saw were a few feathers that had fallen to the ground behind the chair.
Speaking of which how the hell did he get that chair in here? Did he build it?
The idea of beguiling the angel filtered through his mind but something, probably a faint self-preservation instinct, shied away the second his mind touched the angel’s. Where Fae glowed slightly, and humans bubbled up and down with emotions, this mind burned like a diamond. All hardness and sharp edges.
Oh, that would not feel good. I don't think I'd survive that.
With a shaky breath, he leaned back and looked at the angel. Dressed in board shorts and a t-shirt of all things, he wouldn't have been out of place on any beach in the world, except for the wings. Another look around and Shane realized there wasn't any food or water, besides a loaf of weird bread on the table next to him along with an empty glass. Wait, there on a shelf sat a bottle. Shane rose and walked over to look at it, then choked. No food, but a half gone bottle of Everclear.
Angels. Holy beings from God, my ass.
Something deep inside, something he would have denied with his last breath, snapped as he looked at the drugged out and almost insensate being. The representative of God that would come to save them in the last days.
I knew there wasn't anyone up there that gave a damn about us. Time to make my own way, create my own reality.
Something Lewl had said trickled back into his mind. Merlin had learned from all of them. Fine. He would get this angel to train him, whether he wanted to or not. He cast around for ways to convince him.
His thoughts drifted back out to the opium and his mouth twisted in a nasty smile.
If he likes opium, wonder what he would think of LSD, Crack, or heroin. Opium is old and subtle compared to those. I bet I can get him to do anything for me for drugs that will erase his mind.
Nor
mally he might have shied away from that. Dealing drugs had never had any appeal to him though he didn't begrudge those who used, especially now. Once demons invaded your world, not much else registered on your scale of bad things and if getting an addict addicted to something new would save him, so be it.
He didn't have to wait as long as he thought for the opium to quit affecting the Angel. A sharpness entered the face, a hint of a personality that might be powerful, if not dampened by drugs. The long, strong hand with claws where fingernails should be, opened and closed, groping for the pipe he had removed.
"It's gone." Shane kept his voice flat. "You'll only get it back, and get better stuff, if I get what I want."
The angel blinked a few times and focused on him, the cloudy look fading. "Why are you here, mortal? I could kill you and get my drugs back." Even though the words had a threat in them, he didn't raise his voice or even sit up. He just watched Shane with slitted eyes.
"I want knowledge and if you kill me, you won't find the pipe, nor will you get to try any of the other much better ways to drug yourself." Shane bluffed, not looking away from the fallen angel.
The angel arched an eyebrow at him, looking unimpressed. His amber eyes, which glowed a bit, snagged Shane's gaze and he couldn't look away.
"I can sense Fae and Demon magic on you. Plus, you have human magic. What you want me to teach you, Angel mysteries as well?"
"The demons are going to invade again and this time we'll lose. I want to create a new realm, a place they will never find to live." Shane said bluntly. The first time he'd ever spoken his desire out loud.
The angel blinked and leaned back in his chair. "Audacious. Not sure it is possible, but the theory is interesting. I've known humans who could move between the realms before." He snorted, an oddly elegant yet bitter sound. "Part of why I'm here. Damn mortals." He reached for the empty glass and it filled with liquid as he touched it.
Shane narrowed his eyes. "Of course we can, you open a portal, but you need someone on the other side to anchor it."
The angel drank from the glass, draining it. "No, humans and demons need anchors. Usually. Angels and Fae don't. We treat the passage as it should be treated, unlike your groups. You rip through it like it offends you, tearing and causing suffering. We weave through, treating it as it should be." He sniffed, setting the glass down and waved at the bottle of Everclear. It floated over to him, and he poured a drop into the glass then touched it and it filled up.
Shane could smell the powerful alcohol from where he sat and blinked. "You can create matter?"
"Do I look like the creator to you?" He waved at their surroundings. "Only the creator can create matter. I can simply have existing matter replicate patterns. It is the most basic of lessons we teach fledglings. If you cannot replicate patterns you are a failure and will be removed."
Shane would have found more comfort if there had been distaste or even pride in that statement, but he said it the way Shane would have said the sky was blue. A fact that required no emotions attached to it.
"I see. I need to learn this. I refuse to die to the demons."
The angel sneered. "You are talking to the wrong species. We want all of you mortals dead too."
"What?" Shane blurted out the words, staring at the angel in confusion.
Another snort that highlighted his perfect nose and face. "Please. Humans are the failures, but I don't think the Council should pass judgment." He shrugged and tore off a piece of the loaf. The bread looked odd and had no smell.
"What is that?" Shane asked it more to give himself time to think to figure out how to change this to his benefit.
"Manna. Perfect food. You mortals spend so much time on worrying about food. This has the perfect mix of everything, and nothing is wasted."
This generated so many questions in his mind, Shane didn’t know where to start. Luckily the Angel didn't seem all that disturbed by his opium being gone. And if a few drops of Everclear let him fill his glass, getting more didn't seem needed. Plus, manna?
Wonder if he means manna from the bible? Would make sense I guess.
"My name is Shane Gris. What do I call you?" he asked, still trying to stall as he wondered if offering to kill people would interest the angel at all.
"Why should I tell you? That implies you'll live long enough to need to call me by name. It's been a while since anyone lived that long."
Fuck it. Go big or die young.
"Someone with power enough to be the next Merlin. I will figure out how to create my own realm. I saw a proto portal. I just need to know how to command that into a reality." He paused for a minute then continued. "After all, the realms were created, weren't they?"
"Yes, by the creator. Do you put yourself at that level, mortal?" There was a hint of warning to the question.
"I don't want to create life, per se. I want to create a place to live. Maybe if I do that I can even save a few others, save some of the animals." Which had never really occurred to him before, but he couldn't create or replicate food – yet – so he would need plants and people and animals. That made him altruistic, right?
"Ah, so instead, you want to be Noah. Noah was a very unhappy man you know."
"You knew Noah?" The question blurted out. What was it with him and talking to people who talked about historical figures like they were the old guy down the street?
"Nay, I am not that old. But he has long been a cautionary lesson about the creator to my people. A warning that getting the answer to your prayers doesn't always mean you will be happy." He shrugged. " At least you are not boring. Siddhartha was the last one who wasn't boring." His glance sharpened as he looked at Shane. "He did what you want to do. And he did it without demon blood." There was a touch of reproof in his tone.
18
Going for Broke
"What, Siddhartha created his own realm?"
"Of course. Where do you think Nirvana is? Though it collapsed after his death, it took a while, but still it collapsed without his power and mind to control it." The angel appeared thoughtful. "He only had human and Angel magic, but the trouble he caused me." The emotion that crept in didn't strike Shane as anger but more a vague regret.
"How did he cause you trouble? And does that mean Valhalla or the Elysium fields are real too?"
"He's the reason I'm here. And of course they’re real. Though those weren't created by humans – some by angels, other by demons. A few of our young ones thought they could avoid their restraints and would create pocket realms, but they weren't realms the way Nirvana was. They were pockets of our realm that opened onto this one. As they learned their place they would collapse." The angel looked at his glass and another one appeared on the table, full of the clear liquid. He handed it to Shane. "No reason to be a bad host and I haven't talked to anyone… in, well, a very long time." His smile held no humor. "So, why not enjoy the captive audience while I have one."
He took another sip of the drink. Shane cautiously tasted it. Everclear alright. The strong almost oily liquid burned his tongue.
Definitely not doing more than tasting that. Me drunk with an angel sounds like the height of stupidity and usually I needed DK here to be that stupid.
The memory of the look on DK's face as he walked away struck him again and he pushed it away. The man was dead, so it didn't matter.
"How did Siddhartha create a world?" The answer burned at him. He needed to know.
"He stole something from us. Something almost irreplaceable." There was a snort of derision as he said it.
"Oh?" Shane wanted to grab the being by his shoulders and shake him, but from the muscles that rippled across the form, he didn't think he'd succeed.
"Fine, fine. Call me Deva, it's what Siddhartha called me. Probably closest thing I have to a name anymore."
Shane shrugged, the name didn’t mean anything to him. "Very well, Deva. How did you meet Siddhartha?" He wanted to know, because he figured this might hold the key. After all, the old stories of Merlin were wh
at gave him even the slightest idea of how to do this, not that method was an option right now, since the Heart of Kali was long gone.
"I was sent to kill him." Deva said as he took another swallow of the drink.
Shane blinked. "I take it you didn't? I'm not a huge student of Buddhism, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't killed by an angel because that would have invalidated the whole religion."
"I decided not to. My leaders were not happy. They demanded he be killed as an example and the item returned. I still think the council was more aghast that you flimsy mortals could pass over to our realm with our techniques than upset about the loss of the artifact. But it took me a bit to find him and to realize that Kali did not affect him. That made me curious. It had been a long time since I'd been curious."
"Kali?" The word had Shane forgetting to breath as he stared at the angel. "He stole the heart of Kali?"
Deva blinked at him. "I'm impressed. How did you hear about her?"
"Merlin mentioned the Heart of Kali," he said, numb. "And that it was now gone."
Deva shrugged. "Kali twists and writhes but she is a harsh mistress - always has been even for our Council. It offended them that a human could use her and not be corrupted when we could not. And both things in the same mortal, not acceptable. But that is why Siddhartha fascinated me. He managed to use her to build something beautiful and precious. Creation like that is not a skill most of us have within us. We build, but it is structured and regulated. What he created? It lived and breathed. I could almost believe the Creator spoke to him, but the Creator hasn't deigned to speak to anyone for longer than I've existed." Deva shrugged and took a large gulp.
Shane almost copied him but the touch of oil reminded him not to. "So I need the heart of Kali to be able to create my realm?"
"I don't know how to do it without her, but she would kill you. Your corruption is so deep already she would twist you and drink up everything you are." Deva shrugged. "But, no human will ever find her again, so it matters not."