by S E Holmes
“Well, at least we know they haven’t found the Book. There would be no need to take Celestial otherwise,” Bacchus said grimly.
Nimbus paced Skylar’s parlour, paying little heed to the brilliant vista below, nor the discussions of those around him. He stopped suddenly and addressed Jam, who was squeezed glumly between two severe-looking soldiers.
“How did Azazel find Celestial? How did you locate us at the Cave of Unknowns?”
“It is one of my gifts. I can track anything, supernatural or otherwise. Without me they would have used Buttercup, although she is not ideal as she is in the habit of eating the target and can be easily distracted. We do not let her out much as she is very hard to control, except by Azazel. Although she wanders Vulcan’s Forge at night.”
Bacchus shot upright. “And how can we be sure this wretched fiend has not made a meal of our precious Celestial? Hercules should have killed the brute when he had the chance!”
“Celestial’s alive; I would feel it otherwise,” Nimbus said dully.
Jam added, “Azazel is not so foolish as to be frivolous with the life of a Sacred. Your Archangels would perceive such an act of bloodshed, even while inhabiting the Chasm of Doom, and his plans would be revealed. Above all, he would not want this to happen and so will keep her safe while she is needed.”
“The Ethereal Realm is heavily cloaked against the Sphere of the Oracle. It would seem they do not wish us to pierce their veil of secrecy. Therefore, Celestial is imprisoned on our own plane,” Skylar said. “The balance rests with the Fallen. We need to tip it back in our favour and in so doing, alert the Elders of our plight.”
The seed of a plan sprouted in Nimbus’s mind. “What does Azazel cherish most?”
“He has a priceless gargoyle collection. But stealing this for ransom would be impossible,” Jam replied astutely. “It is heavily guarded as there have been many attempts to burglarise it. Azazel has bewitched the statues themselves to shriek loudly if they are moved from his vault, which is protected by many enchantments. Also, if successful in capturing a single gargoyle, each is encumbered by a vile and unique curse.
“When he was younger and too ignorant to know better, Ram tried to take the tiniest, jade scorpion figurine, which is what he became as his hand touched it. Azazel left him trapped in green stone for a whole month as penalty for his heedless curiosity. He was regularly stung by his own stinger as a convincing prevention. In this he was considered blessed, in comparison to the host of other possible afflictions. There is one thing only that Azazel prizes more.
“Buttercup!” Bacchus sighed loudly in disbelief. “Talk about your Morton’s Fork.”
“I am unfamiliar with this Fork,” Jam said. “Is it like Lucifer’s infernal prodding stick?” Skylar’s attendants hissed at the mention of the Supreme Fallen’s name.
“The choice between unpalatable alternatives. In summary, we can voluntarily enter the Underworld to pilfer a bunch of unpinchable, grotesque statuettes that are likely at the very least to bestow the flesh-eating pox. Or, nick a savage Hell-Hound with lion's feet, a mane of serpents and the tail of a viper, not to mention a vicious jaw full of dagger-sharp teeth! Sounds like my sort of plan!”
“You forgot Buttercup’s deadly-poisonous spit,” Jam supplied helpfully. “And the fact that Azazel must be acting on the orders of those more superior to him. He will not dare trade Celestial against their wishes, regardless of whether you have his pet, his gargoyles, his accursed opal crown that steals youth if you handle it and his horrid girlfriend, Ekidna, combined!”
Jam shuddered in repulsion at this half female with a long slithery tail in the place of legs. “The woman is high-maintenance and deranged at best. She breathes fire and noxious fumes at the drop of a loin cloth, would slice you into cutlets with her talons in the flash of a ghoul’s temper and don’t bother going near her around egg-laying time or your life is cinders!
Nimbus mirrored Jam’s shivered reaction at the mention of Ekidna’s name. But not for the same reason. An echidna was very much like a hedgehog, although he knew that Jam was referring to a monstrous female dragon (in Nimbus’s opinion, less scary than the yucky little mammal christened after her). She was responsible for generating many of the hideous beasts that plagued both Gods and mortals alike and was probably the one that gave Azazel Buttercup. Jam really did hang with a nasty crowd.
“We only need to hold them off for one more day!”
Suddenly a deep sinister voice resonated throughout the spire. “I Azazel, have your hallowed Cherub!”
Skylar rose in outrage. That Azazel would dare endanger Celestial was unacceptable, as was his corruption of her pristine world. An unsettling breeze whipped about her as she sought in vain to direct her magic against his wicked source. The Queen’s attendants glanced fearfully from between fingers shielding their frightened faces.
“You will present the Book within two hours or I will strip the Cherished of her wings and hurl her from the Heavens! If you disobey me in any way, our pretty is taking a dive without feathers! Send only the other Most Sacred.”
The warriors were forced to restrain Jam, who’d leaped to his feet. “You won’t. You can’t! The Overlord of the Dead will have your gizzards to tie his girdle!”
But Azazel was in no mood for debate and had vanished. Nimbus stood affixed to the spot, his countenance harsh, fists balled tightly. Bacchus anxiously blotted his brow with his spare sash, all thoughts of feasting banished from his mind. He very much looked as if he could use a stiff drink. Nimbus, desperate and frantic, considered asking for himself. He couldn’t think straight with a whirling miasma of fear clouding his mind.
“Do something!” Jam thrashed against his captors. “There is no time and I don’t believe Azazel is acting on any authority!”
“You just said he was. What’s changed?” Nimbus squinted suspiciously. “How do you know he’s not bluffing?”
Jam answered reluctantly, apparently breaking a vow of secrecy. “Because… Even where I come from there are ordained rules or we face absolute obliteration. Our existence maintains the cosmic balance and the Great Hades would never overtly jeopardise our position or our safety. We can indulge in mischief and rightfully gain power only by abiding by these laws. Wilfully murdering a Sacred without provocation is the worst offence and would curse my Brethren to certain death without mercy in the meanest Halls of Tartarus. It is not an idle threat to make!”
Bacchus nodded in the background. “Jam is correct.” He quoted a memorised verse from the Book of Lore. “All shall abide the Holy Order as dictated by the Essential Tapestry of Existence or endure annihilation in the Eternal Fires of Divine Fury.”
Nimbus had never heard of this Essential Tapestry, but his curiosity was tempered by their need to find a suitable strategy of attack. He would ask about embroidery later, preferably when no one else listened.
“All right. So the universal playground has regulations and it looks as though the wonderfully crackers Azazel is being very disobedient and could use a few hundred years in the naughty chair! How can we use this information to…” Nimbus paced while he listed their goals. “Rescue Celestial, alert the Elders in the bowels of Hell, who I must say have sorely let us down up to this juncture, keep the Book from Mr Cuckoo. And that should do for the current roster of impossible jobs! How does one even get into the Shadowlands?”
Bacchus took a steadying breath. “I was a restless sort in my youth and travelled widely, both the known and unknown kingdoms.” Nimbus rolled his eyes; this was no time for a long-winded story. Bacchus ignored him. “I have been to the Pits of Despair and I remember the path well. I will go and rouse the Gods from their ignorance of our plight. If I succeed in the first, my last shall be to bring back Buttercup as added insurance.”
Nimbus’ mouth dropped in awe. The admission Bacchus had been to the Underworld placed their Guardian on a level with the legendary Hercules, who had flouted his own mortality in Hades to battle Buttercup bare-handed, as pa
rt of his Twelve Labours.
“But I cannot go unprepared. I will need to gather certain supplies that in themselves may prove tricky to acquire, especially given we have a scant period in which to do so. My usual supplier, Osanyin the African God of herbs and plants is obviously not available. We need to split up. Nimbus you will go and see the witch Circe --”
“What! I heard she turned Odysseus’s men into swine! Cronus knows what she’ll do to me if I get on the wrong side of her!”
Jam observed this exchange with mute interest. “If I dared challenge a superior, transformation into a pig would be the least of my worries.”
Nimbus ignored him. “You know I’m not good at networking! I’m not a people-person Angel.”
Bacchus stared blandly at Nimbus. “While I visit Hermes’s cousin Mercury. He has a particular item which will prove invaluable.”
“Why can’t I go and get this… Thing?”
“Because,” Bacchus explained patiently, “Circe and I had a little falling out a few centuries back and she has a very long memory. It’s a funny story actually. Remind me to tell you about it when this all ends for the best. Since, if the outcome is not positive we won’t exist, of course! Best not to let slip you’re associated with me.”
He winked reassuringly. It didn’t work: Nimbus remained utterly un-reassured.
“Besides, Mercury will have precautions against infiltrators and only I will be cunning enough to disable them. Meet me at Vulcan’s Forge in an hour with these provisions.”
Bacchus magicked a list and handed it to Nimbus, who snatched it irritably to survey the contents. Fern seed, Crowquill, Antimony, Essence of Void. Many of the other words on it were long and complex and Nimbus was quite sure he could not pronounce them, let alone understand their purpose.
“And what will we be doing while you’re gallivanting through the Abyss of Despair?” Nimbus asked testily.
“Gallivanting?” Bacchus puffed up. “You know not what you speak of, impudent whelp!”
Of course Bacchus was right. A descent to the pit was cause for dread, even for the Most Divine. But stressful situations brought out the worst in Nimbus. Celestial always lectured him to ‘stop behaving in such a self-absorbed manner’ (she felt it best to condemn the action not the person). What Nimbus would not give for one of those sermons face-to-face right now.
“Sorry.”
“Are you not the Chosen?” Bacchus retorted. “Feel free to use your imagination and offer suggestions at any point! Truly, Nimbus, it is time you stepped from your sister’s shadow. This is an opportunity to reveal the greatness hidden within.” It had been so well hidden to this point, Nimbus had never been able to find it. He held slim hope of it appearing.
Skylar spoke, “I will make offerings to the Polar Star for your safe passage. I have bequests to assist you in your trials.”
She gave a regal wave and three of the same ladies-in-waiting from the foyer at their arrival swept into the room. Each was endowed with a silver cushion.
“First, for you, Nimbus.” The Snow Queen indicated to collect his gift as the courtesan presented it-- a soft velvety grey glove (didn’t he warrant a pair?). “This glove will allow you to touch that which is untouchable.”
Then Skylar herself produced a small vial on a chain filled with beautiful ice crystals, which she placed around Nimbus’s neck. He was not one for jewellery and felt foolish wearing it.
“Rub the glass, Nimbus, and feel the cool breeze from my lands wherever you are.”
Nimbus made an inadequate effort at gratitude, bowing wordlessly, which would have earned him a swift arrow-poke from Celestial. He missed her sorely, although admittedly it had given his butt time to recuperate.
The next was Jam who received an unwieldy hat, fussily adorned with sparkly dancing pixies and flowers that went from bud to bloom and back again repeatedly. He hesitantly arranged it on his head, appearing as though he’d tipped the contents of a young girl’s toy box over himself. The hat began to snow; dainty intricately geometric flakes settling on Jam’s bare shoulders, while he sat blushing and bashful. In Nimbus’s opinion he looked utterly ridiculous and although he would never admit it aloud, this was the stupidest gift he’d ever seen -- even worse than a single useless glove! Nimbus refrained from guffawing with great difficulty.
Skylar laughed softly, a sound not unlike trickling water. “It is for you to give, Jomjael, not keep for yourself. It will help you with your heart’s desire. It compresses when not in use and you merely have to wish for it and it will reappear. For the rest you are ably equipped, even if you know it not.”
She turned to Bacchus. “My dearest friend, for you the Horn of the Host. Blow it once when you reach your destination and only the Most High will take note. Blow it thrice and my bears are at your command. And for your perils in the Shadowlands, I give you a bottle of my best liqueur to fire your courage and ease your angst.”
“These are most worthy gifts!” Bacchus beamed. “Infinite gratitude, Your Magnificence!”
Nimbus secretly thought that Bacchus was happiest about the booze, but again he prudently held back comment. Skylar smiled tranquilly and waved from the balcony as the three headed out onto the gleaming plain.
“Where does Circe live?” Nimbus asked.
“An island called Aiaia near Italy, which is quite handy as our final meeting place is on Mt Etna.”
Jam nodded. “Vulcan’s Forge is the passageway into my realm. But it is heavily fortified against those who do not belong and will be difficult to breach.”
“Leave it to me lad, I have my ways!” Bacchus said.
“The more immediate issue is getting into Mercury’s room on the Ethereal Realm. How are you going to do that with Azazel there? He’ll be waiting for me and watching,” said Nimbus, as they progressed to the furthest reaches of Skylar’s lands.
“I’m going to disregard protocol on this occasion and materialise directly onto Mercury’s front porch. Azazel is not Argus of One Hundred Eyes and will not be able to watch every single portal. With a bit of luck I can slip in and out before he even realises I’m there. Should be as easy as Zeus deceiving his jealous wife Hera!” Bacchus clicked his fingers and grinned confidently.
Nimbus experienced a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Echoes of his previous words to Celestial, “when things seemed easy they usually aren’t” rocketed to consciousness. He had been right last time and they now found themselves in this mess. It was not a good point to finally get correct!
***
Chapter Eight
Acquiring the Herbs