Qualia

by Marie Browne

  Out the corner of my eye I could see that Carly was explaining something to Parity. There was a lot of urgent whispering and hand waving going on. Parity kept shaking her head. Carly was almost pleading.

  Eventually, although she didn’t look happy about it at all, Parity approached cautiously.

  ‘Graham?’ she said. ‘I know it wasn’t you that pushed me into the river. I know that you’d never do something like that.’ She hesitated, waiting for a reaction then, as none was forthcoming, reached out and put her hand on his arm.

  Lucifer frowned and balled his hands into fists. Closing his eyes, he seemed to relax. When he opened his eyes again Graham looked at Parity with a hopeful smile.

  Parity nodded then walked away. Understandably she seemed uneasy. Carly, on the other hand, looked incredibly smug.

  Keril glanced at me with a raised eyebrow; all I could do was shrug in reply. One day everything would become clear. Today, however, obviously wasn’t that day.

  The wind at the top of the precipice was cold. A rude wind I’ve heard them called – too rude to go around so they go right through you. It was impossible to tell from which direction it originated as it swirled around and about, blowing colder and harder then dropping away to a chill breeze.

  Carly shivered and began handing out clothes to anybody that needed them. ‘Come on, Father,’ she said. ‘If we’re going, can we actually go? We’re beginning to freeze our bits off up here. She put an arm around Una who tucked herself as far as she could under Carly’s coat. The small girl’s lips were beginning to turn blue.

  ‘How do we get down?’ Farr asked. He took a cautious step toward the edge of the bluff and peered over. ‘Unless Carly has a hidden cache of parachutes somewhere in those packs, we certainly don’t go down that way.’ Huffing, he retreated back towards his sister who was sitting mournfully on a rock determinedly ignoring everybody.

  ‘We have to climb down the waterfall.’ Belial pointed off in the distance. ‘It’s not really that far.’

  Carly looked up. ‘We have to climb down a waterfall of acid – with a child?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ Belial said. ‘Well, yes … but there are steps cut into the rock face beside the waterfall and they’re beneath an overhang that keeps off the acid.’ He paused for a moment obviously trying to remember. ‘It’s not an easy climb but hopefully it’s still possible.’ He shrugged. ‘I haven’t been here for a very long time. So we’ll just hope, eh?’

  Carly gave him a look and Belial stared past her with a small smile. ‘Have some faith,’ he said.

  We all snuggled into whatever we were wearing and ducked our heads into the wind. On a couple of occasions, people tried to speak but the wind just picked up the words and blew them away. Eventually we walked beside the sluggish Acheron in silence.

  After what seemed an hour but was, in reality about ten minutes, Belial held up a hand. We all staggered to a halt and squinted into the wind, trying to see what he’d indicated.

  The Acheron simply vanished. There was no roar or rainbow, no mist or spray. In fact, there were none of the signs that would normally be associated with the suicidal leap of a big river. It just fell over the edge in silence.

  Belial did the same. One minute he was there, the next – gone.

  Carly, head down and jumper pulled up around her mouth and nose, staggered over to where he’d been standing and cautiously peered over the edge. ‘Dad?’ The wind, funnelled up the side of the escarpment, howled and whistled, sounding like an animal in pain. ‘Dad!’

  Belial’s head appeared over the edge of the rock. ‘It looks OK,’ he said. ‘Bits are broken away here and there but I think we can get past.’ He stared up at his daughter’s furious face, looking confused. ‘What?’

  The descent was unpleasant, to put it mildly. For hours we crept, slithered and crabbed our way around rocks that had fallen from above and holes where steps had slid out into the silently falling river that plummeted vertically beside us. Continually buffeted and pushed by vindictive winds, our fingers were numb, bloody and scraped raw by the need to hang on to any protrusion we could find. Little Una suffered the most; she was in permanent danger of simply being blown off the side of the steps. Cold and shivering she clung on to Keril’s paw, her knuckles white and her eyes wide, hair blown into a candyfloss blob that stood out around her head like a blonde halo. Eventually Farr and Carly fashioned a sling out of a blanket and tied her to Keril’s back. She was so light she didn’t impede him at all and, snug in her blanket, she dropped into a deep sleep against the warm scales on his back. Graham looked jealous. I knew how he felt.

  Belial, leading the way, tested each step. It made for slow progress but he was meticulous in making sure we could pass safely. One particular step looked solid and stood against his tentative foot for a moment, before giving way with a sharp crack under his full weight. He spiralled away over the edge of the steps with a yell. Falling fast, he was a black speck in sharp relief to the thick white liquid that flowed in an unbroken stream, before splashing into the pool below. It sounded like a dog’s diarrhoea as it hits the pavement and smelt almost as bad. Carly gave a small ‘Hmph’ of irritation as she watched her father spread his huge wings and skim the ground then pulled her head back from staring out over the break, her sleeve crushed against her nose.

  ‘Bleugh, I can’t take that smell any more,’ she groaned. ‘It’s getting stronger, what is it?’

  Belial shot past us on an updraft, his charcoal grey wings spread wide to catch the howling winds. He turned and pirouetted far above us before spiralling slowly back down to the steps, smiling. ‘Whoops,’ he said. ‘I’ll try not to do that again.’

  Carly nudged him. ‘It looked, just for a moment, like you were actually having fun.’

  Belial frowned at her. ‘Certainly not,’ he blustered. ‘I don’t have “fun” – it would be against everything I stand for.’

  We carried on down the uneven steps. Some were tiny, most were between 12 and 18 inches high, but others were several feet tall and we lost valuable time dropping down onto unsure footing. There was also the constant worry that the whole thing was going to give way at any moment. We rested frequently, lined up with our backs against the cliff face, looking like a small flock of starlings on a telegraph wire. Una slept on and Graham was becoming surly. The tiny stars far above us lent no light at all.

  Six hours later the sun rose and, in the pale pink morning light, tired and sore, all of us bleeding and scraped, we finally staggered down from the last step and the wind dropped. The sudden absence of sound was almost deafening and most of us whispered, not willing to be the one to crack the deadened blanket of silence.

  Una, however, had no such restrictions. After her long sleep, she ran around like a terrier with a ball, jumping and smiling at people, chattering about the smell and asking why we were all so grumpy. Farr, tired and miserable, was pushed beyond all endurance and raised his hand to slap her away. Grabbing his wrist, Graham stopped the blow as it descended. ‘I don’t think so,’ he muttered. The young necromancer stared at him for a moment then, ripping his wrist from the other man’s hand, turned and stalked away. Graham looked quite pleased with himself.

  Belial frowned and surveyed the surroundings. ‘I think we’ll stop here for some rest,’ he said.

  If we’d been any less exhausted we may have argued. The smell from the pool was terrible – a mixture of ancient eggs, carrion and effluent; it caught in the back of your throat and made your eyes water.

  ‘What makes that smell?’ Carly asked again.

  Belial pointed to another smaller river that flowed both to and away from the pool. Before the pool it was merely clear water, beyond the pool it still ran fast but was milky and churning. ‘The Styx,’ he said. ‘The meeting of those two rivers creates water that causes madness and blindness and those that drink it hallucinate terrible, terrible things.’ He smiled. ‘Back in the day we found out that one of the demons, in an attempt to start a side
business, sold it to the Etruscans and convinced them it would aid them in their big battle against the Romans. Sadly, it didn’t turn out that way. The liquid certainly made them formidable fighters, but unfortunately they couldn’t tell the difference between the Romans, trees, each other and their own horses. It didn’t take long for the Romans to work out that the easiest way to win was to just stand back and watch them destroy themselves.’ He stared over the pool toward the incoming river. ‘There is a very strong possibility that Caligula was descended from one of the women taken as slaves.’ He shrugged. ‘You can drink it on that side,’ he said. ‘But most that actually get as far as here can’t get over there, so they’re tormented with thirst, the offer of relief and no way to get it.’

  Gathering bottles and skins, he closed his eyes for a moment then leapt into the air and disappeared over the river. A short while later, wet and dripping as though fresh from a bath, he settled back onto the ground. He lost the wings and began handing out the water.

  We all looked at it. No one drank.

  ‘It’s fine, really,’ Belial said taking a long swallow from the clay bottle he was holding.

  Still no one drank.

  Eventually Una trotted over and took my bottle. ‘Thirsty,’ she said and, before Carly could stop her, tipped the water down her throat then shuddered. ‘Cold,’ she said. Handing the bottle to me, she trotted back to Carly. ‘Hungry,’ she said.

  We didn’t need any more convincing. The liquid was ice cold and almost sweet – without a doubt the best I’d ever had (although I’d have given my shoes for a cold Coke at that point – preferably with a generous shot of rum in it).

  Moving farther into the tumbled rocks at the base of the cliff blocked out most of the smell. Carly and Farr unpacked the little stove and began laying out lots of odds and ends: a bag of beans, some dried meat, lots of little packets of what looked like dried bits of grit but were actually vegetables. Farr, obviously feeling guilty about his earlier reaction to Una, kept giving her little titbits to munch. Within an hour the smell rising from the cauldron was heavenly and Carly had begun to slap people with her spoon in an effort to keep them away. ‘We’re going vegetarian after this meal,’ she told us. ‘This is the last of the meat.’

  When we’d finished eating, she gathered all the dirty pots and plates and handed them wordlessly to Belial.

  ‘What do you want me to do with these?’ he asked.

  ‘Wash them,’ Carly said. ‘You’re the only person that can get to the clean water so you’re nominated.’

  Belial stared at her, his mouth open, then, putting the plates on the ground he stepped forward and thrust his face close to that of his daughter. ‘I am Matanbuchus of the three nets, the North Crown of Hell, I am vice itself to whom no altar has ever stood and you want me to wash the dishes.’ He stared at her with a slight smile. If he’d ever looked at me like that I would have probably needed some clean underwear.

  Carly, however, folded her arms and glared right back. ‘Well, Mr North Crown of Hell.’ She raised an eyebrow and a lip. ‘I’m pissed off, I have blisters, the smell from that river is making me sick, I’m tired and have a miserably cold child to take care of and I’m in no mood to take any crap.’ With a big smile she bent down, picked up the plates and deposited them back into his hands. ‘From anybody.’

  Belial looked back at her expressionlessly, then, with a slight twitch of his right eye, spread his wings and flew away. As he took off he made sure to cover us all in dust.

  Carly watched him go, a faint smile still on her face. ‘Tetchy,’ she muttered.

  Keril coughed and spluttered a mixture of dust and laughter. ‘I can’t believe you just did that,’ he said. ‘He’s going to be livid – those dishes are going to come back in pieces.’

  Carly stared over the river. ‘He might consider it,’ she said, ‘but he won’t do it.’

  Keril stopped laughing. ‘Why not?’

  Carly sighed. ‘He’s the last of the Fallen, he’s out of his depth and he doesn’t know what’s going on with Lucifer.’ She nodded toward Graham who was trying to talk to Parity. ‘With Melusine gone, Dad needs to think of us as his backup and at the moment he isn’t thinking of us at all. If he doesn’t get some humility and stop thinking of himself as the big North Crown of Hell we could all end up very, very dead or worse.’ Her gaze explored the barren landscape. ‘This is not the Hell he left behind. He’s not the big cheese here any more – others are – and they’re going to resent being threatened with, “I am Matanbuchus of the three nets”.’ She scuffed the toe of her boot in an arc through the dust. ‘It’s as dangerous for him as it is for us. When Lucifer disappeared Dad had the power of reputation to fall back on; now he doesn’t even have that, he really needs to be a little more cautious.’

  When Belial came back with the dishes, all still in one piece, nobody said a word.

  Later that evening, when Una was finally asleep, we all sat around a small fire, warming our toes and passing around a packet of dried apple pieces. Belial had flown miles looking for wood and hadn’t been very successful. He’d come back grumpy and had to ask Carly to pull out a splinter which she’d done with a smile. Just to make her point she’d stuck a plaster on the wound; it had little smiley crosses all over it.

  ‘Just remember,’ Carly had said. ‘We’re all in danger here – even you. None of us are really immortal.’ She walked away to check on Parity, leaving Belial to stare at his hand.

  Sitting around our entirely unfulfilling fire seemed like the right time for talking, and Farr asked the question that had also been bothering me for some time. ‘Why did you close Hell, Belial?’

  The former angel leant back against the rock face. ‘One single woman,’ he muttered, staring into the flames.

  ‘Ha, the downfall of us all.’ I glanced over at Carly who smiled, reached over and twisted my ear. ‘Ow!’

  Belial frowned. ‘She was an Adoptionist called Ælywytha,’ he said.

  ‘A what?’ I’d never heard that word outside childcare circles before.

  Belial took a deep breath. ‘The Adoptionist theory popped up two or three times since the second century when it had been declared heresy. The theory was that Jesus became the Son of God at his baptism by John and the Virgin birth wasn’t the real story.’ Belial snorted a laugh. ‘The Church did not like this theory at all.’ He looked away from the fire and stared at the silver line of the river. Eventually he went on. ‘Well, because of her heresy, her upbringing and her slight power of clairvoyance she was sentenced to the sixth circle where she should have endured eternity trapped in a burning tomb.’

  Carly shuddered. ‘Seems a bit harsh.’

  Belial nodded. ‘Funnily enough that’s what Ælywytha thought as well,’ he said. ‘She’d been dragged through Dis in chains with all the other sinners and dropped off with the demon in charge of that area, along with other heretics. They were stood in a line and informed of their punishment then told to turn and await their sentence.’ He laughed. ‘Poor Cresil was in charge of that section and when this woman stepped forward, stared him in the eye and said she wanted to talk to Lucifer, he almost had kittens.’ Belial smiled at the memory. ‘Well, with Lucifer not around, they called me and I turned up to face this angry woman who said that she shouldn’t be there.’

  Belial frowned. ‘It’s a strange thing about religion. People believe what they’re told and if they’re told this is what they deserve they seem to just accept it – even welcome it. But this woman was furious. She screamed and raged that it wasn’t her fault and that she’d been brought up in an Adoptionist community – she’d had no choice but to believe what she’d been taught by her parents. Surely it couldn’t be heresy if she’d never had the chance to learn anything else, could it?

  ‘Well, I did the normal thing,’ Belial continued. ‘Grew ten feet, turned red with horns – you know, the classic medieval demon, and she just stood and looked at me. She made me so angry I hit her – sent her tumbling
away over the circle.’ He picked up a stick and poked at the fire, making it collapse and flicker. ‘Well, she picked herself up, brushed herself down then calmly stood before me again. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” she told me. “I won’t be punished any more.” With that she turned and started walking away.’

  Belial stared at nothing as Keril rebuilt the fire. ‘Cresil watched her go then said, “She’s got a point, you know. Come to that, what about me?” I wasn’t sure what he meant. “I’ve done nothing wrong either,” he’d said. “Yet I stand here day after day, me and my boys spend our lives tormenting these poor sods.” He threw his whip on the floor. “Why am I being punished as well?” The others around him nodded and threw their whips on top of his and three more sinners made a break for it and ran after Ælywytha.’ Belial shrugged. ‘It was like a crack in a dam – before I knew it I had demons leaving, sinners walking the streets of Dis with banners and horns. There were riots, kidnaps and murders. In the end I got a small council together and we opened a gate. All the upper levels and the ditches were cleared, the sinners were pointed at the gates and just told to leave. Any demon that wanted to could also leave. It was a little surreal watching them all depart Hell side by side. All they had to do was walk through the gate after describing their sin and they were gone.’

  ‘Where did they go?’ Graham asked.

  ‘Wherever they wanted to,’ Belial said. ‘Although I doubt any of them got into Heaven.’

  Belial prodded the fire with his stick again. Keril reached forward and took it off him. ‘Belial, it will never burn if you keep poking at it like a sore tooth.’

  None of us were particularly convinced that he was talking about the fire.

  Belial nodded, then reaching over took the stick back; it seemed as though he needed something to hold. ‘We were really concerned about the lower levels though. There were some very nasty characters down there so we had to set some guidelines. Some we released. Some had killed by accident or incompetence, others had just had no choice; each story we heard, judged on its merits and made a decision. It went on for months.’ Belial gazed into the flames. ‘We were exhausted – hadn’t slept for days – but that was no excuse for what happened.’ He closed his eyes and sighed.