by McGill, Brie
Aleister likely did, too, but Aleister was of little use to him in that cage across the room.
All Orion wanted to do, for as long as he lived, was get away from this bizarre culture, this underground world.
It wouldn't lessen the impact of chaos against his body, but perhaps it would calm his nerves: Orion reached into his pocket and sparked a rollie packed with momes.
The Fall
XXIV.
“Surface dweller, Ninkasi Mara, please rise and show respect to the Supreme Intercessor!” A weaselly robed man sitting in the throne furthest removed from the Intercessor stood to speak, waving his spindly arms in grandiose gestures.
Trembling, Ninkasi glanced at the kluzein-armed guards encircling the cage. She grasped an iron bar nearest her, and shakily climbed to her feet. She didn’t want to be questioned; she didn’t want to stand before this herd of strangers with her body exposed; really, she wanted to wake up from it all like a bad dream.
Aleister snatched her wrist and yanked her down to the ground. “If you stand,” he chastised in a sharp whisper, “you agree to stand under their authority.”
“This is crazy.” She gawked at him, tilting her head sideways, gesturing to the guards. “If you don’t do whatever they say, they’ll—”
One guard smacked a kluzein baton in an open palm.
“Muffin, trust me.” Aleister tightened his grip on her wrist, and shook his head. “If you value your life, you’ll trust me.”
The wimpy robed acolyte cleared his throat and repeated, “Surface dweller, Ninkasi Mara, please rise and show respect to the Supreme Intercessor.”
Ninkasi shook her head, trying to wrest her hand away, and stood up halfway, limbs quaking with fear.
“Trust me.” Aleister tugged her wrist and pulled her to the floor.
Ninkasi yelped and crashed onto the tile.
“This woman is a living creation of the One True Creator!” Aleister narrowed his eyes and raised his hands, addressing the room in a theatrical voice. “As a living creation, she retains The Creator’s essence!” He sat comfortably cross-legged, the finer points of his physiology open for all to see. “To defame this woman is to defame your creator!”
A shocked and indignant din of murmuring voices erupted from the sea of onlookers, increasing in volume until cries and shouts echoed from the magnificent ceiling.
The Supreme Intercessor silenced the crowd with the thwack of his hammer against a marble podium. “The Weighing of Sins will commence first for the woman.” He slammed the gavel again for emphasis. “No others during this procedure may speak without my command.” Snapping his fingers, he summoned the weaselly servant. Passing him a thick piece of manilla paper, he whispered something in his ear.
The fanatic nodded, and skittered toward the cage, presenting the paper.
“Ninkasi Mara, do you recognize this document?” The Supreme Intercessor drummed six fingers on the dais.
Wrinkling her nose, Ninkasi squinted at the document; the lingering effects of the drug made it impossible for her to read the fine print. She turned to Aleister. “What is it?”
One of the guards sauntered particularly close to Aleister’s side of the cage, and tilted his head, scrutinizing them.
Glancing at the man behind him, Aleister snorted. “Deny everything they ask you—”
The guard thrust his kluzein baton into the cage and drove it into Aleister’s ribs, lighting him up with a blue crackle.
Aleister cried out and fell against the bars.
Ninkasi gawked in horror. She knew they wouldn’t hesitate to torture and kill her.
They had no anzein beads now.
Even if they won the trial—she doubted it were possible to ‘win’ in a situation like this—she was skeptical they’d forego the torture and killing. What sense did it make for the inventor of a game to cede to a loss when he had painstakingly stacked the odds in his own favor?
The Supreme Intercessor slammed his hammer once. “None shall speak unless spoken to. Ninkasi Mara, do you recognize this document?”
She had no idea what to do. She glanced to the crumpled Aleister, the encircling guards, the Supreme Intercessor. She stared at the brainless worshipper presenting the document before her; she looked mournfully to Orion, sitting in the front row of the crowd, one arm clamped over his stomach, his other hand clamped over his forehead.
Swallowing, she murmured, “I. . . am unable to read it. Would you please read it to me?”
The fawning attendant glanced at the Intercessor.
The Supreme Intercessor stroked his chin. “Proceed.”
The attendant read in a crackling voice, “Island Nation of Jambu, Department of Statistical Records, Certificate of Birth Registry. This document certifies that the birth of Ninkasi Mara has been formally and irrevocably registered with the Jambu Department of Statistical Records on the thirtieth day of the eighth month in the year 4287. Born in the Diamond District to Magnus R. and Arielle Mara, registration number 350TS-09Y.” He flipped the page around, sucking in a deep breath.
Ninkasi squinted, struggling to read a soup of black smudges on the paper.
“The terms of registration state that—”
The Supreme Intercessor smacked his gavel. “Ninkasi Mara, is this information correct?”
She looked to Intercessor, and then to Aleister.
Lying prone on the floor, he lifted his head. “Tell them nothing!”
A second guard punched his baton into the cage, splitting hard metal into Aleister’s jaw.
Roaring, Aleister cracked his chin against the tile. His eyes fell shut, head rolling limply to the side.
Ninkasi crouched down, squeezing his arm and placing a hand on his forehead. She would lose it if they killed Aleister, especially right in front of her. She’d fucking lose it. She’d want to be locked up somewhere with padded walls, read children’s stories, and fed pudding and lollipops for the rest of her life.
The Intercessor persisted, “Are you the daughter of Magnus R. and Arielle Mara?”
Aleister slowly opened his eyes. He tenderly touched a hand to his face, and winced. “Ninkasi, don’t—”
The first guard prodded Aleister’s rump with his baton, a shower of blue sparks raining from the kluzein emission.
He clenched his jaw. “Don’t tell them—”
The second guard rammed his baton into Aleister’s shoulder, administering a second shock.
Moaning, Aleister rolled on the floor in pain. “Anything,” he mouthed without vocalizing.
The Intercessor whacked his gavel, demanding order. “Ninkasi Mara, do you purport this information to be true?”
A third guard hovered beside the fallen Aleister outside the cage, gripping a baton.
Ninkasi leapt to her feet. “It’s true!” She waved her arms, leaping away from Aleister, hoping to draw attention away from him. “It’s true! It’s correct! It’s my birth certificate!”
Orion stared at her blankly, hands smashed against the sides of his face, pulling at his cheeks and the corners of his eyes.
The Supreme Intercessor adjusted his posture, sitting up straight, and a smug grin cracked the corners of his mouth. “Very well.” He snapped his fingers and waved for his assistant.
The acolyte dutifully pranced to the center of the stage, presenting the manilla document.
It pained Ninkasi that she couldn’t read: she had no way to verify that it was, indeed, her birth certificate.
And she was baffled why a bunch of monsters living secretly underground for centuries would give a damn about mundane civil documents, anyway.
“Ninkasi Mara.” The Intercessor adjusted the glasses on his nose, straining to read the document. “Then it is affirmed you are property of Jambu, and therefore property of the first kings.”
“The first kings?!” She threw her arms in the air.
“The original kings that brought the continents of your world from chaos to civilization.” The Supreme Intercessor folde
d his hands. “You don’t suppose that scores of unruly surface dwellers devised mathematics, cosmology, and the written word on their own, do you? These great kings have instituted the world you take for granted, and they covertly maintain it for your comfort and pleasure. In exchange, they own you. Everything they have created belongs to them and you are nothing, nothing without them.”
Growling, Aleister pushed himself up with one arm, heaving for breath. “This is bogus!”
Two guards lunged forward, delivering an explosive shock to Aleister’s body.
Swinging out a giant hand, he caught Ninkasi’s ankle and held tightly.
The shock traveled through Aleister’s body and into Ninkasi.
She screamed, falling to the floor and curling into fetal position, the electricity stinging like ten thousand needles of fire.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t open her eyes. She was ready for her padded room now.
Grunting, Aleister sat up, slapping Ninkasi’s face. “Sweetheart, now you repeat every word I say, if you want to get out of here alive.”
Fighting back a wave of tears, she bit her lip and nodded.
“I’m fucking serious. I’ll endure every shock it takes.” He lifted a finger. “But don’t you give into them and make me get shocked for nothing, alright?”
She squinted.
Helping her into a seated position, Aleister whispered into her ear. “I am a living creation.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and spoke in a mousy voice. “I’m a. . . a living creation—”
He tugged her hair. “Louder, dummy.”
“I am—a living creation—” Her voice wavered.
“Created by the One True Creator.” He placed a comforting hand on her back.
“Created by—” Her face contorted and she burst into tears. “By the One True Creator!”
“I therefore embody the Creator’s essence.” Aleister squeezed her arm.
“I therefore embody the Creator’s essence.” Ninkasi choked on a massive sob.
He patted her head. “To defame me is to defame your creator.”
She sniffled. “To defame me is to defame your creator.”
The room erupted into a shocked murmur.
Orion bit his nails down to the fingertips.
The Supreme Intercessor slammed the gavel six times. Standing up, he marched down the stairs of his throne and disappeared behind a curtain.
“It’s done.” Aleister crossed his arms.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Ninkasi laughed. “What do you mean, it’s done?” She felt like an idiot for crying—but the entire situation was so stressful, she didn’t know what to do anymore, besides to cry. She felt like her body was trying to push it all out of her, all the chaos, all the unbelievable things. The flood of tears pushed it out of her body, out of her mind.
He nodded at the throne. “I learned all this shit when I was with The Brotherhood.” His face was pale; tufts of curling black hair hung in his eyes, soaked with sweat.
Ninkasi was sure she looked like shit, too. Everyone could see the crispy star burnt into her ass when she stood.
“Cupcake, you’re above their jurisdiction now.” Aleister slapped a hand against her back.
“How? What changed?” She knit her brow. “I don’t understand.”
He raised two open palms. “Mention ‘The Creator.’ It makes them terrified.”
“I noticed that much.” Ninkasi massaged her temples. “But what creator? What do you mean?”
Aleister took a step back. “Their words, not mine.” He shrugged. “They seem to believe that whoever created us also created them, and whatever, whoever it is, it must command superior power.”
“You mean, like something older in the galaxy genetically engineering experiments like Echidna?” She craned her neck forward. “Or some abstract philosophical entity?”
“Whatever it is, I think they think they command an advantage over us if we have no knowledge of it.” He reclined against the bars of the cage, airing his sweaty cinnamon armpits. “I still have no idea what ‘it’ is, but I know it scares the hell out of them.”
The Intercessor returned to his throne, wearing golden robes and a towering gold miter on his head. He wore a magnificent emerald ring more ostentatious than Aleister’s, and gripped a golden crosier in his left hand.
Ninkasi whispered, “What does he do when he goes behind the curtain?”
“He’ll sacrifice a goat.” Aleister shrugged. “Or maybe a toddler. Why do you think Renwick—”
The whomping of the gavel brought the crowd to an immediate silence.
Orion bent his fingers like claws, clutching fistfuls of his hair.
The wimpy footman beat his chest. “Surface dweller, Ninkasi Mara, please rise and show respect to the Supreme Intercessor.”
She crossed her arms, remaining seated.
Aleister tilted his head from side to side, tapping his toes with a happy grin.
The assistant stepped forward, frowning at them. Trembling, he balled a fist. “Surface dweller, Ninkasi Mara!” His tone was impatient. “Please rise and show respect to the Supreme Intercessor!”
Ninkasi focused on her breath, waiting for the Queen of Hearts to appear.
Aleister nudged her with an elbow.
“We are living creatures imbued with the spirit of the Great Creator!” Aleister threw his hands in the air. “As servants of a lesser power, you shall bow!”
She gawked at Aleister, unsure of whether or not he wanted her to echo him. “As servants of a lesser power, you shall. . . bow.”
“So it is done.” The Supreme Intercessor slammed his gavel six times. “Release them.”
The assistant wore a disgusted face.
The crowd erupted with furious outcries in a language she couldn’t understand, some standing, some pounding their fists against benches in protest.
Scooping up their belongings, Orion dashed toward the cage, cautiously observing the multitude.
One scream pierced through the uproar. “This is a farce!”
Aleister leapt to his feet, and shook a fist through the bars of the cage. “Your rule always has been a farce!”
The room swelled with the din of angry screams.
“Throw them in The Pit!”
“The Pit! The Pit!” The crowd chanted and beat their fists in a thunderous ruckus.
A throng of guards unlocked the cage, coercing Ninkasi and Aleister with humming kluzein batons. They forced their captives to the edge of the hall and through the door.
Discreetly activating the anzein rifle strapped to his waist, Orion slinked out the door in pursuit.
Orion winced at the sound of the mammoth vaulted door slamming behind him. Following the guards into a dark cavern, he stood and crossed his arms, feeling the cool air against his face, hearing the drip of water somewhere in the distance.
Auxiliary guards carried electric green torches, illuminating the grey cave shimmering with veins of crystal. They stood on the narrow ledge of a stone cliff that dropped into oblivion.
One guard brusquely handled Ninkasi, seizing her shoulder and forcing her to the edge of the precipice.
Orion stepped back into a wide stance, flashing his teeth, fingers curling around the gun on his waist.
Another guard whipped a red-bladed knife from his belt. Grabbing Ninkasi by the hair, he lowered her neck to the blade. “Hands off the gun, or I will spill her blood and bathe in it.”
Hands trembling, prepared to shoot, Orion narrowed his eyes.
The guard pulled Ninkasi’s throat closer to the blade, its tip poking into her flesh and threatening to pierce the skin. “I won’t say it again.”
Jerking his head away, Orion lifted his hands into the air, palms open and facing the guards.
The guard nodded. “It would be against every law in this land for me to spill your blood.” He raised an eyebrow.
Head pounding, Orion cracked his neck to the side.
“But
I am convinced—” He yanked Ninkasi’s head back, running the blade along her throat.
She yelped.
“Careful with her!” Aleister wagged his shackled wrists, stepping forward.
Another guard pressed a kluzein baton into Aleister's cheek, threatening with a stern eye to activate it.
The guard with the knife lowered his voice. “I am convinced that Echidna would never dispose of her own flesh and blood unless something were terribly, horribly, irreparably wrong with it. She would only waste such sacred flesh in the event it became an abomination of an unforgivable degree.” He spat. “I don’t know what she had in mind for you, but I do know that she would never dispose of one of her own kind—especially her own flesh—unless it were integral to the well-being of us all.” He jabbed Ninkasi under the chin with his blade. “I believe your existence is a threat to all of us.” He narrowed his eyes. “If Echidna is too busy to properly deal with you and our court’s hands are tied, I will do everything within the law to rid this world of your plague myself.”
Aleister snorted.
One of the guards bunted him in the back of the head with an unlit baton.
“I won’t spill your blood, Cursed One.” The guard traced the tip of the blade down Ninkasi’s throat, to her bare chest. “But I will banish you to The Pit to die with the others.”
“The Pit!”
“Banish him!”
“You’ll die together!”
“The Pit!”
The gaggle of guards burst into hateful laughter.
“But first!” The guard with the knife silenced them. “I want you to appreciate your journey to The Pit!” He tilted his head at the guard hovering over Aleister. “Let us dispose of this pitiful half-breed!”
A chorus of cheers for The Pit! erupted among the guards.
The guard punted Aleister’s rear end, goading him toward the edge of the cliff. He unhooked the chains from Aleister’s wrists. “When the starvation sets in, you may be tempted to kill your comrades with your own hands. If you possess a vestigial lust for blood, you may yet stand a chance for survival. The girl will make a great meal.”