Deicide (Hellbound Trilogy)

by Tim Hawken

  “Don’t be fooled by what you feel right now,” I said to the others, continuing my walk to catch up to the Vikings and Dante, who had just reached the first of the tents. “We are not here to stay. That happiness is an illusion. We will have the real thing soon enough.”

  Our group moved as one, covering the short gap between the forest and the tents in an instinctive crouch. The Viking with the scar inclined his head for us to keep following and began heading through the narrow streets of the camp. We barely drew a glance as we moved past the people milling inside. Their eyes were half-glazed, as if they were stoned, happy to drift through their surroundings without a care for anything or anyone. I saw Clytemnestra grit her teeth at the sight as I turned my head to make sure we were staying close. Everyone was with us in a tight huddle. Lotte touched my arm gently.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “I think Zoroaster will have some answers for us. He will know where the gate is and where Peter stands guard. That is all we need.”

  I was doing my best to keep my cool. If we got drawn into this camp we would waste precious time. I had to keep a strict focus, something Lotte seemed to understand well.

  “He likes to talk,” she offered. “Don’t let him distract you.”

  She had been in Zoroaster’s presence more often than I, so I took the advice to heart. I would need to keep on my toes, despite his best intentions.

  Our guides took an abrupt turn and strode down a side street. The ground at our feet was still vivid green grass, like the first lawn we had seen when entering Heaven. No matter how my feet trampled it, the blades would spring back up again as if untouched. Ahead was a tent slightly larger than the rest, grey in color with a flag above it showing a golden icon of a bearded man. He had flat eagles’ wings spreading from his waist, and was holding a ring in his hands.

  “The Faravahar,” Charlotte said, still at my side. “It’s Zoroaster’s sigil.”

  The Vikings came to the tent and pulled the flap open, standing back to let us through. Dante went in ahead, with the rest of us not far behind. The interior was bare, except for a single round rug on the ground. The squat, turban-wearing man I had met once before sat on it cross-legged, writing furiously on parchment in front of him. He looked up at us as we entered, immediately dropping his pen and jumping to his feet. Dante, hugging Virgil close, bowed low in greeting.

  “I found them,” he said as he straightened. “I told you they’d come.”

  “Yes, good work, Dante. Thank you, thank you. Please sit.”

  Zoroaster let the bum take a seat, before addressing the others and me. “So many of you, I didn’t expect such a crowd without feeling the barrier fall.”

  He studied our party one by one. His scrutiny made me turn. Germaine met his gaze firmly, as though sizing up a powerful opponent. Marlowe stood to polite attention, with a wide stance, as if bracing himself against the flow I could also feel gnawing at my body. Clytemnestra hung back, looking outside the tent, forever on guard. Phineus had already taken a seat, cross-legged, making himself comfortable. It wasn’t a good sign. Charlotte was right next to me as always, watching Zoroaster.

  “You look terrible, Michael. Those ears have gotten worse,” he said. “How did you get here? I’m surprised you were able to enter Heaven without me sensing it. Where is Mary?”

  The questions caught me off guard. I had almost forgotten the manic jumping from subject to subject that characterized his conversation. I felt a stab of pain in my chest at the mention of Mary. He didn’t know. I should have expected it would be the first thing Zoroaster would ask, but I wanted to move things along without a tedious explanation, which would only delay us further.

  “I’m sorry, Zoroaster, we don’t have much time,” I said, naturally matching his staccato way of speaking. “We found a way up through the edges of the barrier. We only have another hour at most until we will be dragged back. Mary betrayed us so she could bring Judas to Heaven. I assume she is in the city with Asmodeus.”

  He furrowed his brow at my comments, staring at me intently. His gaze pierced into me.

  “Hmmm, I can see you’re telling the truth, but there’s a strange knot in there blocking it all. There’s something missing.”

  “Look,” I said, my patience straining. “I’m sorry to be rude, but we really don’t have time for this. Is there any way you can show us to the main gate of the city, where Saint Peter stands guard? It’s important.”

  “Rude?” Zoroaster said, his smile returning. “The truth is never rude to me and I don’t take offence at someone in a hurry. But I would like some more details. Why is it important you get there? You have taken me by surprise. Mary isn’t the kind of person who would hurt her friends.”

  His split line of questioning had me at my wit’s end. I was about to snap, when thankfully Charlotte stepped forward, calmly.

  “Zoroaster, it looks like you have been busy since we left. Michael has also been busy, organizing the Legions of Hell and trying to bring down the final barrier, as we discussed with you last time. Do you remember?”

  “Yes, Charlotte,” he smiled. He turned backward and lowered himself to the ground again. The action made me furious, anxiety tingeing my need for the progress that didn’t seem to be coming. I was about to object, when Lotte continued.

  “We have stayed on that path. We had a plan to bring down the barrier, but Mary plotted against us to serve her own needs. She is now with our enemy. We found another way and are pursuing the same end: total freedom for all. Can you see I’m telling the truth?”

  He squinted at her before nodding.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you know all the facts.”

  “The fact,” Charlotte pushed, remaining composed, “is that our goal is to find Saint Peter and use the keys of the gates between Heaven and Earth he keeps to destroy the final filter between Hell instead. All we need from you is to show us where he is, to save time. If you can help us draw him out into the open it would help us greatly. It is that simple.”

  “Yes, simplicity is preferable,” he said. “I appreciate your directness, Charlotte. I have had my hands tied in a certain way since we came here, so I’m glad to have people without the need to play games.”

  “Games?” I asked, unsure of where this was heading.

  “You would have seen that we have set up camp outside the city because Asmodeus will not let us in. Heaven has changed very much since I was first here. It used to be that people could roam its bountiful lands without restriction. It is a wonderful place, really. There are oceans in the shape of perfect circles and mountains that embody everything the mere hills on Earth try to be, but fail in comparison. Everywhere is the ideal form that creates the definition of existence for the rest of the imperfect universe, which is just a shadow of this place. I wish you had the time for me to show you.”

  I would have reminded him of time, but he seemed, mercifully, to be coming to his point. Anxiety bolstered my frustration. Every pull the barrier below made against my body was a reminder we were running against the clock.

  “Now,” he went on. “Asmodeus has changed the paradigm. Instead of letting people explore and settle where they like, he has built a device that draws them to this metropolis.”

  “God’s love,” I said using the phrase Dante had given me.

  “Yes, I knew you would have noticed it. That love is now built into the walls of this city. It was there before of course, but now its gravity permeates everything and has become impossible for most people to resist. It’s a subtle way for him to draw people in and build his own army without them knowing it. God used to rely on people’s unconditional faith in him to do his bidding, but now he uses this beautiful lie to manipulate their need to carry out his whims. It is a symptom of his new fractured nature. It is something I cannot abide. He is making people happy, but he is doing so in the wrong way. On top of that, he shuts us out. He is using a delicate form of torture against my people, having them know that
they would feel even happier inside the city, where the seat of his love is placed. They have family in there he isn’t allowing them to see.”

  “Then why haven’t you done something?” Germaine said, from behind us, speaking for the first time. “It looks like you are content to just sit here.”

  Zoroaster craned his neck to see the mad-looking alchemist standing behind me. He nodded, obviously impressed.

  “You look like a strong one,” he said to Germaine. “I hope we get to talk later, but I’m afraid if I don’t continue what I was saying, Michael may explode with rage.”

  I clenched my jaw to stop myself from doing exactly that.

  “We cannot directly confront Asmodeus,” he went on, “because if we do, we will all be swept down into Hell. Some of the citizens in the camp don’t mind being here. They’re simply happy to bask in the false love where we are. Most are not so easily deceived, but they are scared. They do not want to leave a peaceful place for the realm of terror below that they have been told about. It is a game of chess I play, agonizingly slow. Non-violent resistance is all we have. It has been enough to stop Asmodeus from trying to rebuild the first barrier Michael and I took down, because our camp stands in his way. I have seen him and some angels take flight high up and out of sight once or twice, but they returned again within half a day. I would have felt it if he had tried to manipulate the elements here; I would have moved our camp to where he was and hampered his efforts with a passive shield of bodies. He hasn’t forced the issue yet, but my only choice has been to stand firm and wait. If I openly resist Asmodeus it will give him the excuse he needs in front of the rest of the population to banish us from our place here. I am forcing a stalemate. If he acts against us without provocation, he risks losing his children’s faith completely, no matter how much he sedates them with his charms. They are good people in the city. Some have come to the walls to shout down to their families here. They are beginning to question, but are blind to the truth he is shielding so well. Now that you are here, we can do something to expose it.”

  “That is why we came,” I said, exasperated. “I come telling you we don’t have time and you delay us. I appreciate you have stood in the way of him attempting to rebuild the barrier, but please, I beg you, we have to go now.”

  “Mary not being with you made me pause,” he said explaining in his excruciating way. “And you need to understand, when you go to the wall I’m not going to be standing behind you.”

  “Why not?” Charlotte asked this time. I could see even her patience was thinning.

  “Because you are from Hell, dear” he said, as if talking with a small child. “We cannot be associated with you. If you fail, I need to remain here to make sure the barrier isn’t rebuilt. You will have the attention of everyone inside that city when you approach the walls. I have created a shield over this camp to make sure they haven’t heard our words in case they are trying to listen, but rest assured, when you leave, Asmodeus will feel your presence so close to his home. You are lucky you found a way up that didn’t alert him right away. That is one of the drawbacks of him gathering all his supporters in one place; he has lost his breadth of vision in all of Heaven. He is frightened of you, Michael, and it is causing him to make mistakes. Now, let’s stop wasting time with more questions, shall we? Leave the camp from the very central avenue and head right for the wall. As soon as you exit, I’m quite certain Peter will appear. He won’t be the only one either. I wish you luck.”

  EIGHT

  NOT WANTING TO ASK ANY MORE QUESTIONS, we left Zoroaster’s tent to head for the wall. It had only taken fifteen minutes or so to speak with him, but it had felt like a long, agonizing day. We still had time to complete our task, but there could be no more delay. I would have to bring Peter into the open in the most direct way I knew how.

  The Vikings ushered our party through the camp. I turned to Phineus as we half ran, pushing against the ever-present pull of the filter that wanted us back in Hell.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked the prophet. “Any danger, or anything I can use?”

  “I see angels and a dragon,” he said, puffed from the exertion of our hurried pace. “There will be fighting, but I cannot see the outcome. All goes white. I don’t know what it means.”

  “Let’s hope Asmodeus doesn’t know either,” I smiled grimly, “if he can already see the same future as you.”

  The others all drew abreast of me, so we were striding six across. Dante had said goodbye as we left the tent, wishing us luck. Part of me wished he had come with us, but I knew that he could not. As we moved with murderous purpose, we started to garner stares from the refugees of Purgatory. Some children gathered to watch, held back by concerned parents. It must have been a sight to behold: a sextet of warriors from Hell about to storm the gates of Heaven. Charlotte’s hair was blowing backwards from the flow of the barrier. It exposed her ears, which had grown a deeper red than before. I knew mine would have looked the same, but darker and more deformed.

  “Get ready for an attack right away,” I said. “We have to assume they’ll be on the offensive. We’re at a disadvantage with them above us, but we still have a certain element of surprise. Asmodeus is used to knowing everything. It should tip him off balance if we catch him off guard.”

  Marlowe drew out his sword as we began to approach the final line of tents. Clytemnestra kept her hands close to her thighs, ready to draw her axes from their resting places. Germaine’s fingers shimmered with fire elements, which he had drawn to be close for use. It was time.

  The Vikings stopped short at the end of the camp, standing steady, not so much as looking at us as we left. I could feel a light touch of cold pass through me as soon as we passed the last row of tents. It must have been the shield Zoroaster had put up. We were now in the open, nothing between us and the great wall, which rose before us like a living, diamond beast. Still there was no one on the parapets. A blast of light jetted into the sky from somewhere in the city. Someone knew we had arrived. Summoning a supernatural voice, I boomed upwards so I knew the whole capital would be able to hear.

  “Peter!” I yelled. “Come out and let us into the city. We have come to claim our rightful places in the throne room of Heaven. Your new master has arrived.”

  NINE

  A SCREECHING IN THE AIR HERALDED THE ARRIVAL of the Archangels. Their brilliant white figures appeared in the sky as we craned our necks upward, looking to the top of the wall. They circled high, before spiraling downward and landing on the parapets above. Each left their wingspan fully open when they landed, displaying their dominance as they stared back down at us. The one in the middle spoke and pointed down to me.

  “You do not belong here, Michael. Turn back to Hell before we destroy you utterly.”

  My companions shifted at the threat, each drawing themselves into readiness to receive some kind of barrage. I projected an air of confidence outwards, hoping it would steady them, and barked a laugh up at the angels.

  “I will not stand here and argue with servants,” I said, goading them. “Summon Asmodeus. Or is my father too scared to come and greet his son from atop a fortified wall? Is he cowering in his basilica with his gimp Peter and his whore Mary?”

  The angel who had spoken looked back over his shoulder as if expecting an instant reaction from such open blasphemy. When one didn’t come it started to speak again, but I shouted over the top of it, again making sure every citizen inside the walls would hear.

  “Listen to me, those in Heaven: you who pride yourselves on humility; who hold charity most dear. There is a camp of people out here asking to be let inside. They are not evil souls. They want to see their families. They want peace. Yet you refuse them! What sort of kind hearts are you, languishing in the false love of a god who won’t even let children inside your walls? Is that really divine justice? Are those the actions of someone who is all good?”

  I paused to let my words sink in. Above, the Archangels stood ready, their black eyes staring down a
t us. I started to walk from side to side, in front of my friends, pacing back and forth, always looking upwards as I continued.

  “You need to question the false logic you have been fed your whole lives. What is the truth here, you supposed saints? Is your father and mine an all-knowing being? If he is, then why didn’t he know I was coming and tell you beforehand? Don’t you want to see your families down here? Do you not love them anymore?”

  There were other movements on the walls and more faces came into view. Lesser angels began to appear, watching with softer eyes. People started to gather, still silent, to look down and see who was speaking to them. They would see six human figures below, not the horde of hideous demons they might have expected. They wouldn’t be able to make out our minor deformities from that distance, just as I could not make out their individual features without using my powers to assist me. I took their presence as a cue to press my point. They were listening. If I couldn’t make Asmodeus emerge along with Peter, we would be swept away. As it was, I would need to use the elements soon to help hold us all in place. This was the final roll of the dice.