by S E Holmes
“Well, places of ancient mystery are not supposed to be easy to locate!” Bacchus said, after taking a wrong turn for the second time. “It starts with a ‘V’, I think,” he mumbled.
Nimbus stood forlornly on the volcanic rim of Kilauea by a very antagonised Celestial. He was too depressed to enjoy the spectacular lava flows, or help as she went through all the ‘V’s’ on the map.
“We are wasting what little time we have! Venezuela, Victoria, Vancouver!” she listed desperately. “Vladivostok, Volsk, Venice!”
“Galapagos!” Bacchus exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “It’s an undersea cliff-cave, off the Island of Marchena.”
Celestial’s jaw clenched. Nimbus worried she might push her teeth back into her gums, what with all the grinding. “What happened to ‘V’?” she hissed perilously.
“Clearly,” Bacchus said patiently, “‘V’ rhymes with ‘G’.”
“Clearly! Come along, Nimbus.”
Guiding him gently by the elbow, they disappeared and made the underwater cavity of the tiny island a moment later. They stood in a huge dim antechamber, with ancient urns, scattered mounds of treasure and flickering wall-mounted torches lighting the area. Iguanas teemed over the cave floor, sidling away in an alarmed wall of bodies like the parting of the Red Sea, as the Angels entered.
Celestial balanced precariously on tiptoe looking anxious. “Not reptiles. I hate reptiles!”
“At least they’re not porcupines,” Nimbus said robustly.
Relief not to be the one suffering for a change, competed with his guilt over such selfishness. As well as the lizards, the Cherubs were surprised to note, they were not alone. In the middle stood chairs and a table with the remnants of a recent meal.
“Oh, no,” groaned Bacchus. “How could I forget!” He slapped his forehead -- a tad forcefully -- compelled to rub it better.
“Bacchus! My good man! Finally come to pay your debt?” rumbled the huge Minotaur advancing from a gloomed recess towards them.
He lumbered forward, his hand outstretched in readiness to favour Bacchus with a bone-crunching grip. Nimbus suspected there could be a smile spread across the bovine face, but it was difficult to be sure.
“Is he happy to see us, or preparing to feast?” Celestial nervously echoed his thoughts.
It could just as easily be a scowl. “Get ready to fly,” he whispered. The creature’s hugeness, long sharp horns, large golden nose-ring and swishing cow’s tail on a bulkily muscled human form were more than a tad intimidating.
“Major Bull, wonderful to see you again.” Bacchus flinched, gingerly extracting his crushed hand. “May I present my charges, Celestial and Nimbus.”
“Marvellous to meet you both at last. Bacchus has told me much about you! Please, while you are here, make yourselves at home,” he said, stretching his arms wide in welcome. Nimbus was extremely relieved not to have to shake his hand. The bruises sustained at Jinx’s still ached and he did not fancy adding to his collection.
“The Birds will be thrilled to have company. It’s been a while! I will go fetch them and we can catch up. After we’ve completed our business transaction, of course.”
The Major threw what might have been a shrewd glance in Bacchus’s direction -- it was hard to tell. Bacchus nodded and returned an edgy, tight little grin as the Minotaur exited via a side tunnel.
“Well, he seems like a lovely chap,” Nimbus said.
Celestial pressed her lips together reprovingly. “Yes, he does. Although, labelling females ‘birds’ is borderline offensive! What did you do to him, Bacchus? The Major seems a bit unhappy with you. Did you steal the Sacred Brahma? We really do not have time for trouble.”
“How could you insinuate such a thing? Nothing at all to be concerned about, my dear! Just a little wager between pals,” he appeased, his expression unconvincing.
Celestial sighed, her lack of conviction obvious. “Excellent! Pay him and we can get on with the task at wing.” Nimbus gave her an aggrieved look. “Oops, sorry Nimbus. I did not mean to remind you of your feather-rot. It’s just a figure of speech. Besides, I don’t think you’re as bald as you were. Your feathers are coming back!”
There was no time to celebrate, as odd chattering echoed from the Minotaur’s tunnel. Bacchus shifted uneasily as Celestial rounded on him, eyes wide, finger jabbing in accusation.
She whispered harshly, “Is that who I think it is?!”
Nimbus blinked dumbly in the direction of the sounds. Maybe he should pay more attention. It was frustrating to barely gain a participation ribbon in the knowledge race with Celestial. For once he’d like to come first or even achieve a placing. At least be competitive and not stretchered off the field before making the starting blocks.
“Harpies?” Celestial turned a grim shade of purple. “You’ve been fraternising with criminal elements again, haven’t you?”
“I do not fraternise! And that’s rather judgemental, Celestial. The accusations were groundless, the punishment of exile extreme,” Bacchus huffed.
Celestial wound-up, glowing like a firefly. Nimbus was unpleasantly reminded of an air-raid siren. He intervened, before either could mount a prolonged defensive.
“Hello, I’m Nimbus. Lovely to meet you.”
His outstretched hand dangled awkwardly as one of the bird-like creatures politely attempted to shake it with her wing tip, offering a toothy grin. Nimbus hoped she was not hungry, her teeth and talons looked sharp and past experience with pointy things had given him a justifiable phobia. He repeated the process with the other two. They were really quiet sweet, with the bodies of colourful little wrens and tiny human faces. Major Bull made the introductions given that he was the only one available to translate their cheeps.
“People call them Storm, Blackness and Rapid,” he snorted disdainfully. “But to those who know better, they are Wren, Robin and Sparrow. They would like me to inform you that they are delighted to make your acquaintance. Even that of the rude girl Cherub.”
Celestial turned scarlet. It was one thing to slander them out of earshot, but totally another to get caught at it. Nimbus was surprised by the fact they’d nailed his sister so quickly, before tamping the shameful satisfaction deep inside. She stuttered out an abashed apology.
“They won’t hold your unfortunate misconceptions against you by resisting the impulse to peck your eyes out.”
“Thank you,” she stammered, to an ongoing chorus of chirps.
Major Bull nodded, necessitating a hasty retreat before someone lost an eye on his horns. “The whole spectacle was a nasty misunderstanding. The Harpies no longer hang out with the Furies, returned every human ever stolen in practically brand new condition, except for a couple that were genuinely misplaced, and have embraced vegetarianism. In my own defence, I have always been a herbivore and could not possibly have eaten all those villagers. Would not agree with my digestion!” The Harpies embellished the telling with animated twittering.
“People simply have terrible navigational skills. I tried to guide them out of the labyrinth, but they fled screaming in the opposite direction. Surely, I should not be held responsible for their refusal of my assistance and loss in the crevices of the maze? After all, it was I left to clean up the mess, rotting bodies oozing all over my nice marble floors. And the smell!”
Celestial’s mouth hung open. “Err, of course not. That all seems reasonable. Well done,” she babbled. “I am deeply sorry for causing offence and promise to consider all sides before forming opinions in future.”
Nimbus admired her restraint. Celestial felt dishonoured enough not to point-out, if she so desired, she could incinerate them in a breath.
They were invited to sit and without delay, Major Bull asked, “Well, Bacchus. Where are my arrows?”
It seemed Nimbus’s view that Celestial would reduce beings to ashes today was premature in regard to Bacchus. She was positively incandescent with rage.
“You’ve been betting with our arrows!” she h
owled incredulously. “If the Most High hear about this you will be relegated to purgatory for infinity!”
“Speaking of the most high,” Nimbus shouted her down. “Can we concentrate on the situation? Jam and Ram may be useless gibbons, but we’re sure going out of our way to help them along with all these delays. And what if they send someone higher up? We’re really stuck in the nectar jar then.”
Celestial immediately saw the sense in this. “Bacchus stay here and sort something out. If we are minus even a single fletch from an arrow by the time I return, I shall inform the Egypt Quarter you’re the one who’s been thieving Ra’s Sunrays and trading them for Pearls of Wisdom. Which, it’s plain you have failed to apply!”
Bacchus inhaled sharply. “You would never!”
“Try me!” Celestial dared.
“Pardon me, speaking of trades. What have you brought in offering for the Cave of Unknowns?” Major Bull asked, with a curious tilt of his massive head.
“Offering?” Nimbus sighed and exchanged a bleak expression with Celestial. “What in Saturn’s breakfast have we got to exchange? We can’t risk materialising anything from under the noses of those above. Then they’ll know for sure someone’s escaped their clutches!”
“Is nothing straight forward?” Celestial visibly wilted.
Bacchus braved combustion in Celestial’s fury. “It’s a shame I’m not equipped with my original luggage, plenty to donate from that.”
“And none of it yours, no doubt!” Celestial took a moment to gather composure, smoothing her tunic. “Major Bull can you suggest anything we are in possession of that may work as a gift?”
“Well, the Voice of Unknowns has been stroppy of late. Keeps rambling on about not getting out enough, no news getting through from the wide world. So possibly, you could offer information…” He thought for a moment. “Or better still. Gossip!”
Celestial began to object. Nimbus perceived the rave in his head, as clear as Zeus’s Welcome Bells, before she’d even opened her mouth. She proceeded in a sing-song voice with a nasal inflection (maybe he added that). “We are Fledging Angels, not entertainment reporters. None of the Elders tell us anything of interest, proclaiming we are too young and inexperienced to understand. Surely, Bacchus is the rumour-monger for the job, if only he had not already exhausted his chances!”
Nimbus leaped to his feet, hauling a startled Celestial upright. “That’s a miraculous idea! Thank you, Major Bull. Celestial, come on!” He grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the furthest opening at the back of the cave, nudging lizards out of the way as he went.
“What are you doing? We don’t have anything worthwhile to share!” Celestial warily picked her way through the scaly handbags with legs.
“You know your problem, Celestial?”
“I was unaware I had one,” she answered snippily.
“You’re too anchored in reality. The Voice of Unknowns has not been out for centuries. How will it know the difference between fact and fiction? We can make up anything and it’ll be good enough!”
“You mean lie?”
“Technically, yes. Surely a minor infringement is acceptable in gaining major advantage over evil? You have to admit, it’s a bit of a grey area. Besides, we’ve got no choice. Unless you’d like to trade your arrows?”
This last was thrown in to reinitiate Celestial’s outrage at Bacchus and divert her attention from the untruths they were about to fabricate. Nimbus mentally gave himself a pat on the back for his cleverly manipulative skills; Gabriel could seek psychological know-how from him in future.
“Oh, very sophisticated, Nimbus. Dishonesty it is!” she said primly, as they entered a large, eerily luminous-green cavern. “I have no intention of forgetting our ‘Guardian’s’,” she layered the word with scepticism, “latest sin, but I am after all a professional. I am perfectly capable of getting the job done. No matter how unpleasant.” Nimbus curtly farewelled his self-congratulation. “Be very careful what you say, Nimbus. We cannot afford to loose a question.”
A high, argumentative voice emanated about the close space. The Cherubs squinted in its direction and made out a light twitching across the back wall.
“Who in Anubis’s toilet is it this time! Always asking stupid questions: ‘How do I remove the scorch marks left by Thor’s hammer from my toga?’, ‘Where did I leave my abacus?’, ‘Who’s going to win in the ninth at the chariot races tomorrow?’ it mimicked nastily. “Does it look like I’m bothered? Does it look like gifts of incense and aromatic oils are going to do me any good in here? Does anyone at all give a Gorgon’s wart how I smell?”
Nimbus doubted it (although the smell of lotus-blossom was rather pleasant). The Voice was highly obnoxious; ranting about not caring how the villagers discouraged their Hydra without sacrificing more maidens, because he wasn’t a pest-exterminator. Nimbus also found it hard to sympathise because they were addressing what was essentially disco lights bouncing off rock. He challenged anyone to try!
He cleared his throat. “Oh grand Voice of the Cave of Unknowns, we come offering news of outside events in return for your wise and splendid counsel!”
“Well speak up then boy!” it demanded churlishly. “I like to hear it when you grovel.”
Nimbus thought it best to start with something simple and close to the truth, so he told of the famous starlet Aphrodite and her feud with the cougar Persephone over Adonis. They’d had a number of public and highly unseemly cat-fights at various fashionable night shrines, ending in an unfortunate incident involving Adonis, a wild boar and of one of Aphrodite’s jealous previous boyfriends. Nimbus’s story was punctuated by “reallys” and “you don’t says” from the Voice, while Celestial rolled her eyes at the sordid tale. She had no time for the pampered elite who were worshipped for their appearance and not much else.
Nimbus finished. “May I ask my question now?”
“Yes,” intoned the Voice. “You have two questions remaining.”
“NO! That’s not fair. It was a rhetorical question!” Nimbus objected hotly.
“Clause 219 of the Oracles Handbook states I am at liberty to decipher which is a question and which is not. If you have a complaint, refer it to the Grievances Department of your local division of the Divine and Supernatural Council!”
Nimbus was about to protest further by punching the incredibly irritating wall in what he estimated was its nose, but Celestial prevented him by clamping a hand over his mouth for good measure. “Why have the Gods and Seraphim vanished from the Ethereal Realm?” she blurted.
“Oooh, that’s a hard one!” the Voice exclaimed in its fruity accent. “I can conceive of only one explanation for the absence of the Most High. Every one thousand millennia a meeting of truce can be called by either of the warring upper and lower factions. All are required to attend and the gathering is held at the home of the one who made the request. It is my guess the Elders are present at said meeting and as it is obviously not taking place in the Heavens, it must be held in the Underworld. Ergo, empty Ethereal Realm!”
Meanwhile, Nimbus turned blue from lack of air, forced to stomp on Celestial’s foot for release. “What did you do that for?” She hopped on the spot.
“Even Divine Beings need oxygen on the Material Realm. For when wearing their bodies they take on the base requirements of that form. You now have one question.”
“NO!” Celestial piercingly echoed Nimbus’s previous denial. “That question was not directed at you!”
Before the Voice could repeat its maddening Clause 219 mantra, Nimbus shouted, “Why is it important for the Fallen to steal the Book of Lore before the passing of three days?”
This time there was long period of silence, during which the Cherubs did not move or utter the slightest squeak. Finally the Voice responded.
“The knowledge in the Book of Lore includes the power of universal creation. And of ultimate annihilation. This information is strictly accessible to those who claim the Book. Ownership is grant
ed to the one who reads the opening words of the Book as it stands on the Pedestal of Omniscience in the Chamber of Greats.” If the message wasn’t disconcerting enough, the Voice’s quietening attitude forced it home.
“The good seek from it only enlightenment. But there are those who would use the information as an instruction manual. To undo. The Most High must remain in negotiations for three days before their return to the Ethereal Realm. The Fallen have three days in which to steal the Book and read the correct passage while it rests on the Pedestal, thus gaining the means of cosmic destruction to reign without end over chaos.”
Celestial lost all colour and Nimbus felt as though he’d been trampled by Titans. It simply could not happen! His overwhelmed brain spewed forth questions; how could the Elders have been caught so unawares? If the Fallen were also obliged to be at the meeting how were Azazel, Jam and Ram slipping in and out? Most importantly of all -- how could he, Celestial and Bacchus fix it?
Yes, that was the crucial question! How to stop it? Nimbus’s lips parted to form the pivotal words, when hysterical bird screeches, a thunderous bull’s roar and desperate shouts came from the outer cave, accompanied by crashes, shattering terracotta and most disturbingly, rushing wind. Their friends were under attack and by the sounds of it, they were not on the winning side.
***
Chapter Five
Release the Hornets