Isaiah saw something else that gave him pause. The dark caves of the honeycombed walls were shifting. Something was moving inside them. Glinting rubies? No, eyes—two per cave, with thousands of caves… and thousands of eyes. Something else lit up beneath the glinting rubies. Silver bars? Steel ones? No. Teeth. No… not teeth, fangs. Two rows of jagged fangs, stacked on top of each other. Two per cave… thousands of them. The darkness that surrounded them squirmed around the glinting eyes and rows of fangs like moonlit pools of dirty oil. No, not oil… Robes—thin black one. And each cave held the same thing, each stirring with the same kind of red eyes and same sort of jagged fangs—all hidden beneath the same type of slithering black robes. Men? No, something darker… just like the last time.
The whispering began. “Witness… witness… witness.” More of the creatures joined in, and their hushed chanting began to sound more like hissing than anything else. “Witnessss… witnessss… witnessss…”
“Father,” Armand yelled, his panic getting the best of him. He tugged at his shoulder straps wildly again, too frightened to think about the pit of fire that he was dangling over or falling into it. “What’s happening? Wha-wha-what are those things?”
“Witnesses,” answered Malick, smirking again. “That’d be my guess. He looked down and gazed into the flames below them. “Sounds like they’re some kind of cult… that likes chanting—and whispering—and apparently they’re wanting us to witness something as well.”
Isaiah glared at Malick before looking down at the fiery pit too. It seemed closer than it was just seconds ago. It was. The flames were rising, but the creatures didn’t seem to mind or noticed, and they continued chanting. “Witnessss… witnessss… witnessss…”
The flames were still rising. Starting out slowly; the thrashing, golden-orange ocean of fire came alive and crashed against the cavern walls like ocean waves battering the Cliffs of Moher at sunset. A swooshing sound followed, and the flames came crashing again, higher and higher, until they swallowed half the tower and all of the whispering chanters in the lower caves. A barrage of wicked, thrashing heat followed—rising as high as it could without swallowing the three men. Then it dropped as quickly as it came.
The whispering chanters that were swallowed in the flames were strangely unharmed, and once the flames settled and sank, they went right back to chanting. “Witnessss… witnessss… witnessss…”
A voice bellowed from somewhere within the sea of flames. “I have awoken,” it said. “And now, the entire world will bear witness.”
A black-headed snake of fire shot out of the pit and swirled around the tower growing out of its center. As it wrapped around and strangled the tower, the snake’s flame-covered body ignited each of the pyres resting inside each one of the tower’s many windows.
Once it finished swirling up the tower and lighting all the pyres, the fire snake unwound itself from the tower and lowered itself back into the fiery pit before erupting again. This time shooting straight up and out of the pit, the snake stretched upwards until its ominous head dangled dangerously close to Isaiah. Looking him in the eyes, Isaiah finally saw that it wasn’t a snake at all; it was a pillar of flames. Standing atop it, in place of the fire snake’s reptilian head, there was a monster, some sort of fire demon.
Looking more like a minotaur than a man, its skin was black and looked like it was either covered in scales or something resembling the oily black hide of a bull, like the beast had been dipped in tar. Nearly seven feet tall, its muscles looked like pillars of carefully chiseled onyx. Its nails were long, sharp, and black as well. Its face was a cross between that of a bull’s and a caveman, but its teeth were anything but. Two rows of oversized fangs took the place of teeth and looked like a pearly-white bear trap… with a set of extra-large daggers that dangling from its upper jawline and hung over its grizzled bottom lip. Two golden, gazelle-like horns protruded back from the monster’s forehead, curved around its head and behind its shoulders, hanging behind it like two gold-plated horsetails.
Though Isaiah didn’t feel any heat coming off the creature, it was ignited in flames—but only the back of it. Like a calming campfire, the flames traced its backside from its shoulders to just-above its cloven hooved feet and nowhere else.
Staring at Isaiah, the creature’s eyes glinted like tiger’s eye—the gemstone not the animal—and lit up in waves of orange and amber. It looked curiously at him before grinning through its giant fangs. It finally spoke. “Isaiah,” it said gleefully. “Oh, how I have dreamt of you.” Its voice was raspy and ominous. It smiled even wider at Isaiah and further displayed its polished white, crisp, sharp, beastly fangs. “I have heard so much about you.” The creature looked at one of the caves behind Isaiah, at one of his red-eyed whisperers. “And I am very excited to get to meet you, finally, in person.”
Waiting for Isaiah’s fear to surface, the beast had a sparkle in its eye and continued staring at him with an odd sense of enjoyment. Any further amusement would have to wait. Hearing something it didn’t like, the creature snorted, and its face contorted into something angry.
It was Armand. Done squirming and now gawking at the supernatural spectacle with big eyes and his jaw hanging open, Armand had muttered, “Ifrit,” under his breath, barely louder than a whisper. Then, like he didn’t know he was speaking aloud, he said, “It’s the Beast… the one from the bible.”
The creature was now staring at Armand, and the twinkle in its eye was gone. It let out a contemptuous snarl, and its upper lip curled up in disdain. Ifrit, a horrible name, an insult. Then, as if it were an extension of his body, the pillar of flames swayed away from Isaiah and carried the beast over to Armand. Now swaying in front of Armand, as if the boy was a snake-charmer, the pillar of flames lazily swayed back-and-forth. Still swaying and staring, the creature fixated on Armand the same as it had done with his father. Unlike his father, Armand’s fear was obvious, and his lips quivered while his hands shook. After feasting on the boy’s terror, the creature seemed to have had its fill and growled, and then it finally spoke. “Ifrit,” it snarled contemptuously. “You would call me an ifrit, a fire demon, a jinn?” Growling again, large black sheets shot out of the creature’s back—giant, black, and leathery; the wings of a demon. The pillar of flames erupted and drowned the monster in flames until its skin turned to molten gold and its horns charred to the flat-black color of coal. “You would take me for an ifrit!” Then the flames died down, its wings disappeared, and the creature cooled down, returning to its original colors.
The creature spoke again, somewhat calmer than before. “No. No, I am no ifrit. I am no jinn, no genie. I promise you that, and I will not be granting you any wishes.” The creature growled lowly, thinking. He called me “the” Beast, from the bible. It made the creature think of the past. Emperor Nero. Nero was the Beast. A symbol. Seven kings, Nero was the sixth. One is yet to come. The Roman Empire. Seven hills of Rome, seven horns of the Beast, seven crowns upon the seven heads of the Red Dragon. Seven signs. The creature chuckled. “The Beast? No—closer—but no. That, I am not that either.”
“Stupid boy,” huffed Malick. “Think before you speak. This… He is a marid. You should show your respects.”
The beast grumbled, and its eyes shifted over to Malick. A marid, a higher level demon, higher than an ifrit at least. Not moving, the creature smiled at Malick, the beady-eyed drifter. “A marid? No, but you are getting closer.”
The shadows with the gleaming red eyes began chanting again, but this time, there was only one chant, one word. ”Witness.”
Grinning then running its tongue over its fangs, the beast looked over his minions then looked back at Armand. “Do you like them? I will share with you a little secret. Those, those creatures, they are my whisperers, my followers, my… minions. I call them shadow whisperers. They whisper into the souls of men and feed on the darkness inside them, the same darkness that dwells inside all men.” His eyes shifted over to Malick then over to Isaiah, lingering a bit l
onger on the second man. The creature let out another low, lengthy growl then finally looked back at Armand. “Well, the darkness that dwell inside almost all men. Your father…” The creature nodded then grinned at Armand, then moved a little closer to him. “And I’ll let you in on another little secret.” It leaned in and whispered into Armand’s ear. “Those things, my shadow whisperers… they’re angels. Well, they were, once. Buuuttt they were cast out of Heaven, and now…” The pillar of flames shifted away from Armand, and the creature held its clawed hands out to its sides, wide out to his sides. “Now they are this.”
Isaiah saw Armand shaking, and he knew that his son’s spirit was on the verge of breaking. He yelled, “Creature, beast… ifrit, whatever-the-hell you are, leave them alone. You called me by name. You said you knew me, that you dreamt of me… Well I am here. Now face me, demon… or are you a coward.”
Atop his swaying pillar of flames, in long strides, it drifted over to Malick before swinging back across the void, bringing the creature back in front of Isaiah. “Your wish is my command,” it snickered, “and call me Vandriel… for now.”
“Well,” said Isaiah, huffing, “Vandriel. You said you knew me, that you dreamt of me. What did you mean? Release my son, and we can settle whatever business you may have with me.”
“Business?” it said. “We have business? No, no. I said I dreamt of you. I said nothing about business.” It paused and grinned. “But yes, we do have business to discuss.”
“You see,” the monster said. “When the gods sleep, their dreams— our dreams—are filled with the lives of mortals.” It smiled widely and moved closer to Isaiah. “And… Oh how I have dreamt of you.” It scratched at its cheek with the long black claw attached to its tar-covered, gorilla-sized finger. “You see, my whisperers can corrupt most men, weaker men. But you… Their whispers did not work on you… because you have no darkness inside you, not anymore. You are my… unicorn.”
It shrugged then taunted, “But the boy… the boy, on the other hand… He is—”
“—Leave him alone. Let him be.” Isaiah snapped back defiantly, leaning forward as much as he could, as defiantly as he could.
“As you wish.” It smiled again. “As for your drifter…” The creature waited for Isaiah to say something about Malick, but he didn’t say a thing, not a word. The creature gave him an inquisitive look and thought, curious. Then it realized something. “You know,” it said. “You know, don’t you? The drifter.” The beast whispered into Isaiah’s ear. “He’s evil.”
“I know. I watch him.”
“You know… yet you allowed him to enter your house. You allowed him to dine with you, to be near your family. You… helped him. Why?”
Isaiah huffed. “I am not naïve. I helped him because he needed help. I have not done anything to him, because he has not done anything, yet. You are correct; there is darkness inside men, inside him. But I will not judge a man because of what the darkness whispers to him.” Isaiah thought about his time in the darkness, inside the sinkhole, and the whispers that came with it. “I will not judge a man by his past. Every man has their own demons, and each of us must battle them on our own terms. And as I said, he has not done anything, yet… so I have not done anything to him. So far I haven’t had a cause to send him away.”
The creature listened intently to Isaiah but was smirking again. “Spoken like a man who is truly righteous… truly righteous and truly naïve. He hasn’t done anything, you said. He hasn’t done anything… yet. You know, Isaiah, you weren’t the only one that I dreamt of. I dreamt of him too. Ohhh… and the things he has done.” The creature tsskted. “And from the look of those things, there are no amount of watchful eyes that could prevent him from doing what he planned on doing.”
Isaiah glanced over at Malick then back to the creature. “So now we punish men on their plans? Is that what the gods do?”
The creature let out a roaring laugh. “Oh, Isaiah. You are almost as righteous as you are entertaining, and if I could, believe me, I would converse with you for an eternity.”
“Is that your wish? Release my son, and you will have what you desire.” Armand yelled for his father to stop, to stop making his deal with the devil, but Isaiah quickly shouted. “Quiet boy! Think of your mother. Think of your sister. Your brother. They will need you. Tell them…” Isaiah couldn’t finish the sentence. Goodbye, I love you, I love them; these words were too painful to say.
The shadow whisperers began chanting again. “Witnessss... Witnessss... Witnessss...”
The creature yelled “Quiet!” and held up a clawed hand. “But they’re right, you know. That is why you are here, why your son is here… to witness.”
Armand chimed in again, his voice gleaming with hope. “So we’ll live? We can’t witness if we’re dead. You’ll let us go?”
Toying with the idea and his guests, the creature laughed again then swung over to Armand to toy with him some more. “Child, you have already witnessed. Your job is complete. I have no more use for you.” He looked down into the pit of fire. “It is perfectly fine with me if you die.”
Isaiah again saw his son shaking—this time with terror in his heart, and he interceded again. “Armand, look at me. Look at me, son. Do not show it your fear. Don’t give it the luxury. If we are to die, if this… thing intends to kill us, then we will die like men—Son! Look at me. We will not cower. We will not futilely plea for our lives, for this creature’s amusement. Son, I taught you well enough. Be brave, son.” He nodded at Armand.
Suddenly inspired and courageous from his father’s words, Armand nodded back to him then stared defiantly at the monster. “Do what you will.”
The Beast swung over to Isaiah on his pillar of fire. After a lingering look, it laughed. Sucking on its long fangs, it made a sucking sound—like it was trying to suck out a piece of food stuck in its teeth. Then it began to pick at its fangs with its sharpened black claw. “Oh, Isaiah. If we had the time… the fun we could have. And if I had the time, the things I could do to you, to change you. I could turn you into a whole different kind of… thing”
“Like those… things,” Isaiah quipped. “Maybe I don’t break as easily as your fallen angels.”
The whisperers hissed at Isaiah while the creature threw back its head and laughed. Again the creature’s eyes sparkled brightly with joy. Clearly, it was really enjoying this. “Oh, Isaiah. I’ll share a secret with you, like I the ones I shared with your boy. The secret is: in time, all men break. All men, Isaiah.”
“Yes, but like you said: if only you had the time.”
It laughed again. “Yes, if only.”
Suddenly its hand was jiggling a handful of coins that it had pulled from behind its back, from nowhere. They were large and golden, and they matched the gold of its long slicked-back horns. Staring at the coins in its black, oily palm, it said, “I was saving these. I always figured that I’d take the time to pick-and-choose who’s worthy, who isn’t, but now…” It looked up at Isaiah and spun its hand around, turning the seven coins into one. Showing Isaiah the coin, front-and-back, it asked, “Do you know what this is?”
Isaiah nodded. That time, so long ago, the whisperers had told him. He muttered, “Seven coins golden, for seven souls chosen. Seven coins each for seven judges to decide, for seven signs will rise. For those that hold the coins of the gods, let them be thankful and grateful, for they have earned the favor of the gods and are blessed.”
Vandriel nodded, grinned, and shook his head in surprised admiration. “Oh, Isaiah. You continue to impress me. Although, it does seem that my whisperers have overshared a bit.”
“I don’t care. I want your gold coins.” Isaiah spit at the foot of the creature. “I’ll face my judgement on my own terms.”
Vandriel snarled and grabbed Isaiah by the throat, his blackened claw wrapping around it like it was no more than a broom handle. “And you may not want it now but you will. I offer you a life raft, and you spit at my offer, literally. Now, Isaiah, the
day will come when you look at your family, and you’ll look back on this day and say, ‘Why didn’t I take the gods’ mercy.’ I assure you, it is better to take the gold of the gods than to be judged by their fire. And with the Cleansing at hand… trust me when I say that our fires will burn hot… and slow and more painfully than you can even imagine.”
Despite what he had told his son, Isaiah’s fear finally got the best of him. “My-my wife, my family,” he stammered.
Ignoring Isaiah’s body language and intent, the creature said, “Sure. As you wish, they can burn too.”
“No, please.” Isaiah’s adrenaline flooded his brain and made it impossible to think clearly. “No, please. If… If we are nothing, if this is the end, then let us live. Let my son and I live out the rest of our days with our family.”
Snorting, Vandriel released Isaiah’s neck and move back a step. Bobbing its head side-to-side with its eyes rolled up to the sky, Vandriel thought about it. “Sure, why not. Your wish is my command. What about the other man, Malick?”
Isaiah didn’t flinch. “Take him.”
Without a hint of malice or animosity, Malick smiled his crooked smile. “Wise choice, Isaiah. You would not have liked the alternative. Goodbye, Armand. Be sure to fix that fence of yours.“ With an even larger smile, he said, “Don’t want those goats to get out, you know, the ones that are still alive. A wolf might come along and smell the weakness… in the fence. Next thing you know, the wolf has made itself home, devouring whatever it wants, taking what is yours… all because you didn’t mind your flock.”
Not that he could really formulate the words at the time, but Armand didn’t even get the chance. Staring at Malick as he grinned, Armand was yanked into the dark, overhanging ceiling. His screams echoed throughout the cavern until his voice was muffled by the ground above him.
Vandriel turned back to Isaiah. “Now, what will we do with him? I have a question. If he is mine, what should I do with him? What would you do with him?”
The Awakening of the Gods (Forgotten Ones) Page 31