The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  Vila was silent. Wood exploded under each step of her paw. The air was getting progressively foggier. Soon, Dave couldn't see more than five feet ahead. They walked and walked, a silence that was ever more substantial as time went on. Dave was still naked. Her black fur was surprisingly soft against his skin.

  Dave couldn't get the image of his mother from his mind, screaming for him to put the gun down.

  As they traveled he thought of that and his mission and of the wolf who had promised to kill him once her children were born.

  They found a dark, twisting trail that forever led downwards. The fog became progressively thicker, the trees and plants more stunted. The buzz of bugs was almost morose, like a requiem.

  “How much longer?” Dave finally asked. It couldn't have been this far. The trees were all gone, and the ground was mostly rock and dirt with occasional sprouts of dark green, underdeveloped weeds. His voice sounded hollow against the fog, giving him the feeling like they were on an endless plain.

  “We are already there, human,” Vila said. And just a few moments later, the fog parted. They stood upon the precipice of a cliff that overlooked the edge of eternity.

  “What the hell?” Dave said. There was nothing beyond the sharp cliff of stone. Whatever was below was so far down he could see nothing but a red haze, like he was looking down upon the top of the sky. “This is the wrong place. I thought the angels still held part of the city. I don't see it anywhere.”

  “I haven't taken you to the city,” Vila said. “Look. They are coming.”

  Apprehensively, he climbed off Vila and peered over the edge. Sure enough several dark specks appeared, slowly spreading like oil until it became apparent these were actually several groups of flying creatures, hundreds of them in each lump. And they were headed straight up for Dave and Vila.

  “You tricked me,” Dave said fearfully.

  “I have done no such thing,” she replied. “You seek angels. I have found them.”

  Angels? What were they doing here in this bottomless pit surrounded by fog? How many of them were there? He remembered Yehppael telling him and the others about a group of angels who had rebelled. They had been banished. Was it here? Were these them? If so, why would they help?

  Vila became noticeably tense once the groups came closer. It surprised Dave, but he said nothing. He was sweating himself, and he found his hand grasping her soft side, his fingers gripping fur for support. She didn't pull away.

  The groups stopped 500 feet below the surface of the cliff. A single angel began to ascend, slowly. It was a big male, wearing a white and blue robe. The angel bore no armor or guns, but a long, curved blade—longer even than the angel himself. He pulled it free slowly as he came to the human and the wolf. The blade began to burn with a blue blaze that bled smoke into the sky, crackling like a campfire.

  “A human and a wolf,” the angel said, sneering. He waved the sword, and smoke trailed. The robe he wore was tattered. Upon his feet, his sandals trailed fibers, well-worn. “Is that all He sends? Are you here to mock us?”

  “I ... I'm not sure who you think sent us here, but I have a very important message.”

  More angels rose, though they stayed considerably back from the one he was speaking with. There were hundreds of them now. And tenfold still hovered down below, more and more coming the whole time.

  “Speak then,” the angel said. “I will hear your message.”

  But before Dave could start, another angel further from the edge cried out. “Look! The fog is gone! They have blazed a trail!”

  Dave looked back over his shoulder, and to his surprise, a trail pierced the fog, like a great body of water that had a tunnel bored through it. Where they had walked, the fog had parted.

  “I told you,” another angel said. “I could feel them coming.”

  “Who are you?” Dave blurted. “How come you're not defending the city?”

  The angel in the blue cocked his head to the side. “Defending the city from what?”

  * * * *

  “You've returned, Your Honor. You are much more diminutive than when we last met.”

  The soft male voice didn't come from any particular place. Just all around, in the air. The voice was oddly familiar. It made Indigo think of comfort and safety, of a time before she had worries or conflicts.

  “Where are you?” she said, rolling onto her side. Water dripped off her exposed skin, cold on her face and hands. The white crystal and ivory inner buildings shot into the sky all around her. Everything was familiar.

  “You're human now,” the voice said. “I can see it's you, but you're human.”

  “Okay, tell me who I am then. Or who I was.” To her right, white and beige tiles stretched in a checkerboard pattern. A depression led down to another room and beyond to where the others waited. To her left, the water spread all the way to the far side, taking up half the circumference of the Tower. An ivory statue of a three-headed lion dominated the far wall, tall as five angels. Water spewed from each mouth, and its upturned claws were made of sparkling red jewels.

  The beauty here was overwhelming. She had an urge to close her eyes, as it was too stunning to stare at for long. She could become lost just looking at it. Such a shame it was only for the Seraphim.

  “You are Derkea,” the voice said. “At one time, you were called Seraph.”

  Derkea.

  It was like a slap. She mouthed the word, familiar on her lips. Her memory welcomed it, for it was her name. Her original name, and it stood long before she was called Indigo. The moment she heard it, she knew it was so.

  “Yes,” she said. “That's right. Who are you? Where are you? There are others below. Is it safe for them to come up?”

  “I am the Ophanim. I am His chariot.”

  “The Ophanim? So you're the only one? Where are you?”

  “We are all one. Though we have several eyes, and several wheels, we are one.” The voice definitely wasn't in her head, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't find the source, as if there were speakers all around her.

  “Where are you?” she repeated.

  “I am wherever you choose me to be.”

  She sighed. She was developing a headache. “What about the others? Can they come up safely?”

  “You've ordered me to not allow anyone to return. And it is forbidden for any but the Seraphim to pass.”

  “You're not a Seraph. But you're here.”

  “Yes. But I am a sentry. I have no real access.”

  “Well, I take back my order not to let anyone up. Let the group below come, then resume your duties, I guess. Or you can come with us.”

  “Yes, Your Honor. Though I can not accompany you any more than I already am. I can not leave, but while you remain here at this place, I will be at your needs.”

  “Has anyone tried to pass lately?”

  “There have been attempts. They did not pass.”

  “Demons?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  She asked about the Unraveler, who seemed to have been somewhere up here, but the Ophan did not know about him.

  “Indigo, what's your status?” Tamael asked.

  “Please,” she said into the radio. “Give me five minutes. I almost got it.”

  “Tell me more about myself,” Indigo said to the voice. “About Derkea.”

  “What is it you wish to know? You left the Tower on a mission of great importance, and that was the last you have crossed my path.”

  She felt very cold suddenly. “When was this?”

  “It was after the attack. More than a cycle afterwards, but less than two.”

  “What was my duty as Seraph?”

  “You are a liaison between the Seraphim and the Cherubim. You were gone when the attack came, and you eventually returned, only to find the others gone.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “A few decided to seek His chambers above. Almost a cycle later, their robes fell back from where they came. I suspect th
ey rose and rose until they could no more, and they died before allowing themselves to admit defeat. A few others left to seek out the periscepters, and they have not returned yet, either.”

  “And the rest?”

  The voice didn't answer for a long moment, as if it was carefully thinking of what it would say. “There were six who remained. But when the demons broke through the lower levels, they became despondent. They had a desperate plan that involved sacrificing themselves to replace the missing periscepters, to return the light of this world once again to the True Light. It did not work, and by the time you returned, they had perished.”

  Indigo felt sick. “Why did I leave again? What was my mission?”

  “The periscepters had been hidden away. You left to gather them and bring them here. But you never returned, until now.”

  “What about the rest of the Ophanim? Or the Cherubim?”

  “The Cherubim left to fight, or died defending their level of the Tower. I do not know. I am the Ophanim. The other wheels and eyes are beyond the bend, and I do not know where.”

  The radio buzzed again. “Indigo?”

  “Yeah. Come on up.”

  It only took a few moments for the others to emerge. She was still shaking as they came to her. Contrasted against the walls and columns, the twenty-six angels—Tamael; the Powers Iopol and Frish; and twenty-three shell-shocked and weary Principalities—looked ridiculously out of place. The black armor of the three Powers clashed obscenely, and the dirty white robes of the Principalities could never be white enough for this place.

  “What was the danger?” Tamael asked, coming up. She looked distastefully at Indigo's wet hair.

  “A sentry. Mr. Ophanim, say hello.”

  “Hello,” the voice said.

  A stunned silence followed. None of them had ever been in the presence of one of his caste. “Oh thank His throne,” Tamael finally said. “We feared the Tower was abandoned.”

  “When the demons came, scores of them, I opened my eyes, and they could not withstand my gaze. After Derkea left, I was alone in the Tower.”

  “Yeah, where were you when the damn city was attacked?” Iopol said, his voice dripping with venom. “Why didn't you gaze upon them as they were storming our walls? Trillions upon trillions of us lined up to die while you cowards hid in this tower, watching us die from afar.”

  Tamael looked as if she was about to shoot Iopol in the face. “You will show respect, soldier.”

  He spit. “I can't show something I don't have.”

  “It is not your place to question the Ophanim,” said the voice. “My duty has always been to protect this entrance, and I have not failed. Your duty, as Power, was to protect the city's walls. Your failure is why you are here now.”

  “You show yourself right now!” Iopol screamed, waving his gun. “You have no right to call me a failure. No right! Where the hell are you? Show yourself!”

  “I'm sorry,” Tamael said to the Ophan. “He's angry at many things. He doesn't know what he says. We're here to follow your orders.”

  “You'll receive no orders from me,” he said. “Derkea is the highest amongst you. You follow her.”

  “Who?” Tamael asked.

  “The human. Her form may have changed, her memory not intact, but she is still one of His twelve. She speaks for Him.”

  “What? ” Iopol said, raising his gun at Indigo. “The traitor? ”

  Tamael was silent, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “No,” Iopol continued. “She may have been one of His precious Seraphim once, but not anymore. She lost her chance. And if she was one of our leaders, I say what she did was even more wrong. I say I kill her right now.”

  “Your Honor, shall I have him executed?”

  Indigo sighed. “Not if he puts the gun down right now. We need every angel we can. Even the assholes.”

  Iopol growled a little, but he put down the gun. “I'm not following her orders,” he said. “I'll follow Tamael, and I'll follow the Ophan, but not the human.”

  Tamael looked at Indigo, her eyes slightly averted. Indigo remembered when they first met. She and the others had done terrible things to her. It seemed so long ago. “What would you have us do, Your Honor?”

  Iopol snorted.

  “Is there some sort of radio around here?” Indigo asked the Ophan. If the demons had never made it to this place, then that sort of stuff would still be intact.

  The Ophan gave instructions, only a short distance away. They quickly found the room, surprisingly unimposing and scant. It held a table with twelve chairs and a simple throne. Indigo was drawn to one chair. She had a flash of memory then, all of them sitting around the table, arguing terribly about the humans.

  A single bookshelf stood against one wall filled with red-bound books. A refrigerator-sized machine took up the opposite corner. It was metallic and blue with several knobs and a massive keyboard that held all 144 characters of the angel language.

  Tamael ran a hand across the throne at the head of the table. “Do you think He ever used this one?” An uneasy silence followed.

  “That's a big radio,” a Principality said, examining the machine.

  “Colonel, do you know what this is?” Frish said.

  “I do,” Tamael said.

  “You need a code to make it work,” Iopol said. “Besides, the Seraphim trapped in here would have used it already.”

  “Not necessarily,” Indigo said suddenly, surprising herself. She pulled her chair from the table and sat down. It was much too big for her now, but it soothed her anyway. Memories fell to her like raindrops. She suspected there would always be holes in her recollections, but random memories—many of them important—came to her now as she sat in that chair, where she'd spent most of her life.

  “Whaddya mean?” Iopol said.

  “None of us considered the machine very important. Only a few of us had bothered to learn the password at all. I didn't know it, and those who did either left the Tower to fight or went on their fateful climb to His chamber.”

  “So you don't know the password?” Tamael said.

  “Actually, I do,” Indigo said, looking at the machine. “I'm not sure how I learned it, as I didn't know it when I left the Tower before, but I have it now.”

  “So, we can use it,” Tamael said. She was deep in thought.

  “Excuse me,” a Principality said. “Won't the demons intercept the message? They had been taking all the messages we were sending to each other before.”

  “No,” Tamael said. “It's scrambled before it is sent out. They can intercept them, but they won't be able to decode them, I don't believe. Even if they learned how to read our secure messages before, this is different. It's a higher level of security. They have no reason to monitor this band, anyway.” She didn't sound too convinced of her own words.

  Tamael seemed as if she was fighting back tears, but Indigo wasn't sure why. Then she understood.

  The whole reason Dave and Yehppael had gone into the Sphere was so they could get a message out. This radio had been here the whole time. Had they known they could find this thing and make it work, they would never have had to send them away. The Sphere would never have had to been turned back, Ashia might still be alive, Dave would still be here, and Yehppael would not be gone.

  “You can't dwell on it,” Indigo whispered to the angel. “It's done.”

  “You can send secure and non-secure messages on this thing,” Iopol said. He played with the radio, fiddling with the controls. “If our human here knows the pass we can send whatever we want over whatever band we want.”

  “But what do we say?” Frish asked.

  Indigo had been thinking about that. She remembered something, something Truet had said to her. Our Selaphiel didn't trust us. And something else. The content was still murky, but the ramifications of this knowledge would change everything. Another set of codes were emblazoned in her memory, learned the same time she had been told the code to the Critical Action Machine. She ha
d an idea.

  * * * *

  You terminated yourself in a very foolish way.

  Hitomi cried and squirmed, but she couldn't get the voices from her head. The Wuj had been interrogating her for hours. She tried to pull away, but she couldn't. It felt as if she had centipedes in her brain, moving about, stepping over every nerve.

  “You've learned everything already,” she cried.

  We don't understand everything. There are many questions.

  “Please, no. I can't take it anymore.”

  Each thought she had, they grasped onto it and kept it as their own. They commented on the darkest places of her memory, asked her questions about things she didn't even remember, only to decide on the answer themselves. They had learned everything about the angels and their secret base and the periscepters, but still they probed.

  This Nigel did not love you. He only wanted to use you for pleasure.

  “No, that's not true. He did love me,” she cried. They seemed intrigued more with her human life than with anything to do with the angels. Most of their comments revolved around Nigel and her father. They forced her to think of them, in ways she didn't want to.

  No, you know he did not. That's why you terminated yourself. You know he mated with your companion, Mari. You know he called her name out while he was on top of you.

  “No, that's not true. You're making me think that. Just leave me alone.”

  It wasn't true. It wasn't.

  And your father. He did love you, but he was not very good at showing it. You only learned when you were dying.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Though she knew why. It had been whispered to her earlier from another cage, from the other side of the clown man. From a man that had no hands.

  “The Wuj don't eat. They feed off us. Anger and distress is what they like best. That's why they toy with us. But they keep the children around, too. If a mind becomes too diseased or it suffers too much, it causes them pain, almost like choking. They can hide in the heads of innocence. It's like dipping a glowing iron into the snow. Without it they could even die.”