Darklight 6: Darkbirth

by Forrest, Bella

  Un flicked one braid over his shoulder and drew himself up to his full, extensive height, staring down at us. "You cannot possibly know what is needed to ensure the balance of the three planes. You are irrelevant mortals who have stumbled into a place in which you have no business being."

  "And yet you speak nothing but weak words. There are things you don’t even know about in your own plane," Dorian snapped. His lips twisted to reveal his fangs as he stepped forward, anger flaring in his handsome features. He got right up in Un's face, despite the fact that the arbiter was nearly a foot taller and much broader. "If you dismiss the beings from the lower planes, you dismiss what you claim to have designed to fit your plan. We are more than capable of incredible things, including punting your proxy off a floating rock."

  My stomach clenched with dread as I watched them square off. I held back, ready to back Dorian up but knowing that we needed to be careful. The vague but horrifying threat of being unraveled still hung over us, and we had no real power or solid allies in this plane we could expect to help stop such a thing.

  "How exactly do you plan to demonstrate your so-called capabilities?" Un asked condescendingly.

  I stared at Dorian. The crowd waited with bated breath. In truth, I had no idea what was going through his mind. Whatever it was, it would have to be enough to prove to someone as pompous as Un that we were worth dealing with. Our little stunt with the boulders didn’t manage that…

  Dorian swallowed. "Maybe we should compete against your proxies in these Games. Or are you afraid that a human and a vampire will show you up again?" His question lingered on a mocking note.

  Un bristled, his pride cracking beneath the challenge. He cast a look at his fellow arbiters, who were all watching us at this point. "This interference in the Games and subsequent disrespectful attitude has made something clear to me." Un's voice rang out in a way that reminded me eerily of Irrikus. "This issue requires an immediate resolution. We have infinite time, but I will not deal with insolence any longer. Ruk brought these troublemakers with him, and now our delicate order has been destroyed. We must call all the arbiters to a meeting. It is time to deal with Ruk and his feral pets, once and for all."

  My heart sank into my stomach. We’d wanted their attention to talk about the tear, but it seemed our plan might have backfired slightly. I was glad we’d provoked the arbiters into action, but what if this worked out terribly for our goals? I didn't know if we could fight our way out of here. We’d gathered little information from Jia about fighting arbiters, and it seemed like a lost cause at this point. Even if we could fight, where would we go?

  The crowd muttered in agreement with Un’s statement.

  "Yes, why should we wait?"

  "The judgment should be done now."

  "Ruk was a fool to come back."

  As the voices fired off, my muscles stiffened with concern. Had it been the right move to force the arbiters into action by pissing them off? I licked my lips nervously. We've faced creatures and challenges at every turn. Even if we did have somewhere to run, we owe it to everyone in the lower planes to see this through.

  Dorian and I shared a look of determination, one which Un caught and scoffed at under his breath. I squared my shoulders and stared Un down, even as part of me whispered that we very well might have just made the situation a whole lot worse. Either way, there was no going back now; things were moving fast. Dorian darted a glance at me, searching me for my reaction, and I merely nodded solemnly. This was our chance to give our testimony and the urgent news about the situation unfolding in the lower planes. The danger touched all planes now, even the Higher Plane.

  Un leapt easily off the floating boulder in a showy display of power, his robes and hair flowing around him. "Follow me," he barked at us.

  The crowd parted to make way for Un as he and his proxy swept through the throng of arbiters. They then followed behind him obediently. The Games course began disappearing before our very eyes, melting away into nothing. Dorian grabbed me and quickly leapt to the safety of the reflective floor as the boulder began to break down beneath us. When I looked back, nothing remained but a shadowy smudge in the air and the expansive puddle of metallic liquid. How much energy had they spent constructing something that they’d only planned to use for a moment’s entertainment?

  Un walked into the unsettling gray mist, clearly with a destination in mind. I pressed my lips together. Their exit said everything—to them, we were nothing. Their cold departure conveyed a sick indifference that made me feel more like an animal than a sentient being. I almost missed the days in the Immortal Plane where I knew I was hated, and my death was desired. Dorian and I stalked after the crowd.

  At least an accelerated judgment might get us back home sooner. If they ruled in our favor, we could return to our friends in the Immortal Plane to help. Maybe if we proved especially disruptive, they’d actually be chomping at the bit to send us back. But if they ruled against us… a judgment awaited us, and we'd have to deal with it after the fact. Can't do anything until we know.

  Jia walked beside me, sticking with us as we marched to face the consequences of our bid to gain the arbiters’ attention. I stared at the trailing golden edges of Un's robes as he stormed ahead of us. His opulence meant he was easy to pick out, even at the head of a sizeable crowd. He must have had an enormous amount of power to create such a sophisticated body, based on what I knew about higher beings and their use of energy. As we caught up to the crowd, the arbiters drew aside for us in a way that gave me the sense that we were prisoners being allowed through to follow our executioner. Soon, we caught up to Un. Dorian glared fiercely at the back of the arbiter’s head.

  Behind us, the crowd whispered various opinions, all following the same line of reasoning Dorian and I had heard on our parade to meet arbiters before the Games. I grew tired of it. Some still complained about how the Games ended. But overall, an air of excitement ran through the trailing crowd. I tried to keep a brave face as we walked along. If Un looked back, I wanted to appear composed.

  The landscape began to shift around us. A dark, narrow path made of polished onyx stones solidified from the mist, rattling under our feet. The street was lined with towering lampposts. At the top of the posts, screaming gargoyles beat their wings, light streaming from their open, anguished mouths and eyes. I repressed a shudder at the unsightly decor. Was Un trying to intimidate us? Whatever he was doing, the mood of the crowd rapidly grew somber. The sky was now a mixture of deep crimson hues against the acidic yellow. I glanced up but saw none of Dorian's recent grieving or the fearful emotions evident, but I suspected some of his anger lurked above. Mine certainly is.

  Finally, Un brought up one of his arms and gestured dramatically to a shadow in the distance. The outline of a stark white amphitheater appeared, the kind I'd seen from old textbooks about ancient Rome. In true arbiter fashion, they hadn't gotten the look quite right. It was too perfect, too modern. It was a combination of a classical amphitheater and the smooth minimalist lines of a Swedish interior design catalogue. I shook my head, wondering how ideas leaked through here. For beings who think so little of us, they sure do copy a lot of our culture.

  The amphitheater was impressive in size. It sank into the reflective ground for several tiers, but there were no individual seats, only flights of stone steps that lined the space in a complete circle. Un directed us with a short, tight gesture of command to walk down to the bottom floor. Being isolated like that made me nervous, but we had no other option, so I took Dorian’s hand as we obediently made our way down. In the center lay a flat circle of black stone, veins of gold running through the smooth surface of what appeared to be a stage… or a sentencing dock. I grimaced behind Un's back as he addressed the crowd. Had he built this place specifically for our judgment?

  "Oh, this is just his style," Dorian muttered next to me. I nodded, never taking my eyes off Un. I wanted to be ready for anything.

  "Arbiters, my fellow inhabitants of the Higher Plane
and watchers of the lower realms, we are gathered here to make a decision that has been too long in coming," Un announced. "As is required of judgment, I will call forth all those of our cohort."

  He snapped his fingers in a grand gesture, and blue and gold sparks flew from his hand. His strange fingers, not quite human, made a sound much louder and hollower than they should have. Something about the sound snaked down my spine. We were truly out of our comfort zone here. I glanced down at the black stone, feeling like a fish on the chopping block. Jia stood beside us on the circle, either unwilling or unable to leave our side.

  After a moment, a swirling cloud of purple arose from the air near Un, just like when Xiu had brought Jia to life. Thin, lanky creatures with spindly wings solidified from the mist. Their wings flapped, but at a pace that failed to match up to their state of constant hovering.

  "Proxies, call forth the arbiters." Un liked to give demands, clearly. "All of them." He pointed to one, and it stayed behind as the other four disappeared, fluttering off to perform their duties. Addressing the last one, he said, "Inform Ruk that his presence is required. His judgment is upon him." He smiled the tiniest bit, and I wanted nothing more than to plant a good left hook in his flat white eye.

  Dorian's shoulder brushed mine as we stood in silence, but it was enough to know that we were together. It’s easier to face things when you’re with the person you love, but what horrors does a sentencing involve in this place? I glanced down at Jia, who stared blankly ahead into the crowd of murmuring arbiters who were already gathered. My nerves climbed as arbiters, in humanoid figures and in orb forms, began to arrive. Out of one of the mists came Xiu in her glowing blue form. She immediately crossed toward Un, the orb buzzing and darting around in the air in a way that indicated she was somewhat irritated as she stopped in front of him.

  "I see you have made a rash decision," she noted evenly. If she had eyes right now, I was sure she'd be looking Un from head to toe with a judgmental gaze. "Why have you decided to summon us all together to make a judgment when it's been such a short time? This is impulsive. Silly, even."

  I liked her firm manner and practicality.

  Un scoffed. "More time is usually required to deliberate, but these two lower beings are causing too much trouble. Judgment must be swift. They'll only learn more forbidden knowledge the longer they stay. Your little proxy hasn't helped in that regard, handing out details of our whereabouts and history at will. You should limit his knowledge more thoroughly.”

  "You've become too narrow in your approach. And I’ll thank you to leave how I design my proxies to me." Her tone dripped with disapproval. Still, she floated beside Un. I found it interesting that she remained more open-minded about us. None of the other arbiters had even pretended to be impartial so far. Perhaps they thought themselves impartial, but they'd been nothing but pompous.

  I stared, fascinated, as Un squared off with Xiu. His entire look—the broad, large body and magnificent white braids—seemed odd, visibly responding to Xiu's incorporeal orb form as a threat. They lapsed into a tense silence. I shot a look at Dorian, one eyebrow raised in speculation. If the most respected arbiters we’d met so far disagreed, we could potentially use that to our advantage, maybe try and play them off against each other… if we were lucky.

  Ironically, even though we were on the stage, no one was paying us much attention right now. They had delved deep into conversation among themselves, some shouting at Un or trying to interact with him. It wasn't exactly a surprise, but we were literally center stage in a theater that had been built for our judgment. What would it take for them to look at us?

  Dorian's pinky finger gently ran up and down the side of my hand, the action soothing him as much as it did me. It was all so much to watch. These not-quite-human faces would soon deliver a judgment on us and Gate Maker, a judgment that could mean the end of us all, the beginning of an eternity spent separated from our loved ones, or our chance to get out of here. It was like a nightmare. Everyone knew exactly what we felt, since they could see our sadness, fear, anger, and impatience. I sucked in a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to push away the fear of the deep vulnerability that was to come. We would be on display, and the arbiters would finally be paying attention.

  My nerves surged. Dorian's hand tightened lovingly around mine. Every arbiter in the Higher Plane was arriving in a continuous pattern of popping colors. I gave Dorian a grateful look. His glacial eyes warmed when meeting my gaze. Together. At least we're together.

  I guessed almost a half-hour passed before everyone had gathered. Each arbiter went to a specific spot in the theater without hesitation. I guess this wasn’t built just for us. It seems they all have assigned seats. Interesting that they would need that. How often did they give public judgments? The murmuring crowd suddenly fell into a hush as a figure appeared at the top of the staircase, accompanied by Un's spindly proxy. Gate Maker.

  My breath hitched. It was the first time I’d seen Gate Maker since the incident in the tower. His eyes flashed, hard with scorn and resistance at the sight of the crowd. His gaze landed on Dorian and me as he moved toward us, and he smoothed his expression into something unreadable. Dorian glared at him, but I didn't know what to do. Open hostility didn’t feel right, not when we were all about to be judged. The only thing I wanted was to know what was going through Gate Maker's head right now, but I certainly wasn't going to get that answer. Jia shifted beside me, moving out of Gate Maker’s way as he came to join us on the flat black disc.

  Every one of Un’s proxies had returned, and their creator was apparently ready to begin proceedings.

  "All arbiters who are currently able to be reached have been gathered," he said. "They're here to decide your fate.” He gave us a hard stare. “All three of you."

  Un took a dramatic step forward. His robes swished around his feet with a flourish as his long, spindly fingers reached out toward the crowd like a spider coaxing prey into its web.

  "The sentencing shall commence."

  Chapter Eleven

  I was grateful that my body resisted physical strain here because otherwise standing for hours on end would have been my undoing. Each time it was a new arbiter’s turn to speak, they stood or floated from their spot to stand in front of our stage and deliver their thoughts. Those who wanted to be brief and decisive with their judgments merely shot off a response from their seats. I'd never been left standing so long, even as a Bureau soldier during basic training. Jia stood a few steps behind Ruk. It intimidated me to be facing every single arbiter that lived in the Higher Plane. Each had taken their rightful place in the amphitheater, but if they were arranged according to some order or hierarchy I couldn’t spot it. What I could see was a small cluster of spaces that were conspicuously empty. My thoughts drifted back to the missing fourteen arbiters. Wherever they were or however long they’d been gone, the others still held space for them. Was that a positive thing, demonstrating how they honored those who were no longer with them? Or was it more of an indicator that nothing changed quickly in the Higher Plane?

  Considering how long this sentencing had been going on already, I was inclined to think the latter.

  "The subject of time in all its complex forms," a mauve orb pontificated. She sighed wistfully. "Oh, what a glorious thing to consider. How long has Gate Maker been away, really? For us, it is but seconds in our ever-expanding lives."

  I shot Dorian a subtle look of annoyance, which he returned. This poetic preaching and philosophical ranting had been going on for quite some time. Apparently, a trial in the Higher Plane entailed allowing time for every single arbiter to give their opinion. Un stood at the head of the amphitheater near our ominous black stage. Since he’d called the meeting, it seemed he had pride of place up at the front. The arbiters droned on and on. Nobody tried to rein them in if they went off on a useless tangent. Worse, the arbiters egged each other on in terse whispers if they disagreed with the speaker, and then the argument had to run its course even if the diss
enter had already spoken. It turned out I could still become incredibly, mind-numbingly bored without the passage of time, and I’d grown tired of the process after the first twenty arbiters. My feet would definitely have been swollen if I’d stood so long in the Mortal Plane.

  So far, I'd listened to seven impassioned speeches that failed to mention us, Gate Maker, or the lower planes even once. And Gate Maker—or Ruk, perhaps I should say—had no reaction other than to stare stonily at every arbiter as they spoke. His flat lavender eyes regarded everyone with the same dull look.

  Some of the testimonies were blissfully short, though still intensely negative.

  "Crush them all into energy," one orb had spat before floating back down. “Unravel them and get it over with.”

  My stomach had churned nervously for a while after that.

  Un sent off the impassioned mauve orb with a bow as she finished her speech.

  "Lin," Xiu called. "Come forward and give your testimony."

  Another arbiter rose—a bald, blue-skinned fellow who paraded down to the front. "Greetings, my fellow arbiters—"

  It was the same as what came before. Nearly identical attitudes spilled from the mouths of these so-called "higher" beings, though they could disagree endlessly on the minutiae. Also, though Xiu and Un referred to these speeches as testimonies, nobody could seem to pinpoint exactly how Gate Maker had wronged them. I understood that he’d acted outside of whatever rules they had, but so far the arbiters had talked around it too vaguely for me to piece together.

  I considered lying down for lack of anything better to do but figured that would probably not help with the accusations of insolence Un had thrown at us. We’d just have to wait until every single arbiter finished before we got to speak for ourselves. We’d be lucky if the tear didn’t kill us all first.