Alarm gripped the members of Hannibal’s company. A refrain of “Retreat!” echoed off the city’s outer fortification.
“Hold!” Hannibal ordered. “Their power is diminished beyond the wall!”
Gripped by fear, Peter wanted to run, but Hannibal’s command calmed him. The warrior’s confident voice was like a rock that Peter could hold on to in a swift current. He concentrated on the surety of Hannibal’s words and used them to shore up his diminished courage to stand firm.
The angry bees closed the distance and descended on the group. Their buzzing filled the air, causing some members of the company to raise their weapons. As the swarm got within striking distance, the bees burst into flame. For a brief moment, they sang out in a chorus of agony before their charred bodies turned to ash and rained down upon the mercenaries.
Peter fought against his paralyzing panic and labored to breathe. “What is this place?”
Hannibal grieved the loss of his friend as he watched the ash accumulate on the ground. He looked at the newcomer squarely. “Welcome to the Garden of Eden.”
Peter contemplated the man’s words. His mind was unable to process the totality of events that were transpiring before him. Things were happening too fast. At some point in Peter’s immediate past, he had died. There was no denying it or rationalizing it away. Now he found himself in a strange place with his whole existence being nothing but a fleeting dream. Everything he had known was gone and there was no going back.
“Gather your things,” Hannibal said, breaking the long silence. “We march.”
Chapter 11
Sitri flew above the outer wall’s parapet and circled in a slow arc to land next to Asmodeus. The demon stretched his leathery wings fully before withdrawing them to a resting position behind his back. Sitri’s anger was plainly visible, contorting his already maligned face. He gestured to the meager band of humans making their way up the ashen hillside outside of the city’s perimeter wall. “You let them escape?”
Asmodeus hid his frustration and waved off his fellow demon. “What would you have me do? They are well beyond the limit of our power.”
“Lilith will not be pleased.”
“They had help from the inside,” Asmodeus retorted. “Not even she could have foreseen that.”
“Nevertheless, you should have followed her plan.”
“The circumstances changed. What does it matter? She’s blind to what goes on here. We do the work, while she plays her juvenile games.”
From behind the two demons, one of the human guards attending Asmodeus began to transform. The guard pulled away from his comrades and dropped to his knees. His body stretched and distorted. The guard’s purple tunic and breeches were absorbed into his body and replaced by blackened robes. He increased in height until he neared that of the two demons. Gray wings, weathered and frayed, grew from the guard’s back as his facial features contorted into the she-demon, Lilith.
Lilith leapt at Asmodeus and unleashed a fiery attack. Lavender energy poured from her hands making the air crackle as it enveloped the caught-off-guard demon. In an effort to counter the attack, Asmodeus ignited a blood red defensive field, but Lilith flung it aside and tightened her grip. She forced the demon to his knees. “Blind, am I? But I see you all too well!”
“Forgive me, my Queen,” Asmodeus said, his voice quivering in pain.
Lilith focused her power further, drawing gasps and whimpers of compliance from the demon before finally releasing him. “And they eluded you how?”
Breathing heavily, Asmodeus gestured to Sitri. “He lost them over the city.”
Sitri shrunk from Lilith’s gaze. “They executed an elaborate deception, but we did capture Hannibal’s lieutenant.”
“Hannibal’s lieutenant?” Lilith asked with playful amusement. “The one whom we cannot interrogate because his ashes are now strewn out of our reach—is that who you speak of?”
Asmodeus rose to his feet. “Valentinius knew nothing, my Queen. I am sure of it.”
Lilith raised a grizzled hand to quiet the demon. “You know Hannibal so well that he evades you still?”
“He had help—something unforeseen.”
“I know,” Lilith said, pacing back and forth on the parapet while eyeing the group diminishing into the ashen hillside. “Are you sure he was with them?”
“There,” Sitri said, pointing to Peter bringing up the rear of the procession.
Lilith studied the frail human struggling to forge a way through the heavy ash. “I see him.”
“We could send a cohort after them,” Asmodeus proffered in an effort to rebuild his lost trust.
Lilith grimaced at the thought of her much-needed guards aligning with Hannibal, or at the very least being crucified and hung up for display at the city’s doorstep. The incident would cause immeasurable morale difficulties and make her remaining henchmen hesitant to follow orders again. “Too risky.”
Lilith extended her wings and propelled herself into the air. She circled slowly over the parapet, her concentration fixed on the retreating humans. “We still have the advantage,” she said and pointed a twisted finger at Sitri. “Post sentries at every access point into the city.”
Sitri bowed his acknowledgment of the queen’s orders.
“Asmodeus, find the traitors dwelling among us. Question the animas—be persuasive. Sort out those who would be so defiant.”
Asmodeus nodded.
“Under no circumstances can we risk damaging the book,” Lilith said. “Do not transfigure or use power of any kind. We must capture them unharmed.”
Chapter 12
For the most part, the pallid landscape remained unchanged since the group left the base of the city wall. The travelers labored through the rolling terrain, occasionally encountering a deep defile or steep hillock that made their journey even more arduous, but the signs of the hellish fire that once consumed the Garden of Eden continued to permeate their surroundings. In some areas, the ash was so thick the group navigated around it for fear of becoming ensnared by its fine particles. Charred remnants of large trees lay scattered about, their trunks hollowed and blackened. The vestiges of smaller plant species were visible thanks to their placement by outcroppings or fortuitous topography, but the conflagration reduced those to a wisp of cellular residue forever stuck in a near facsimile of their former existence. At several junctures along the way, Peter reached out to touch the haunting umbrage only to have it disintegrate and crumble to the pungent ground.
The sky was unchanging and persisted in its twilight state all through the company’s trek. A white glow hung around the horizon. Indirect gray light bathed the landscape weakly, but it did little to assuage the absolute black of the heavens above. It was as if the Garden of Eden were a separate world all unto its own and forever stuck in a perpetual solar eclipse.
The long hike through the bleak landscape gave Peter ample time to think. He wanted to ask a multitude of questions, but the most prevalent was why? The group had sacrificed one of their own for him. Peter found that unbelievable given the circumstances. Never in his wildest dreams would he have given up a friend for an unknown quantity—a newcomer no less. Yet, this group of battle-hardened mercenaries did exactly that. The manuscript Peter carried must be important, that much he guessed, but why not just take it? He posed no threat to them. Instead, they risked everything to whisk him away from the city. What did the members of the company expect in return? Peter mulled the question, but deep down, he did not want to know what the true answer was. Whatever the reason, the reward must be significantly more than what the group had lost, which, as a revelation all unto its own, gave him great pause.
Peter stowed his feelings and lurched after Thomas, as both trailed behind the main group by a wide margin. Hannibal set a fierce pace and the gap between them and the rest of the company had been steadily widening for the last hour or so. Unaccustomed to the physical strain, Peter’s stamina was at its end. Breathing laboriously and unable to take
another step, he stopped and sat down on a blackened rock. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to rest.”
Thomas whistled out to Hannibal.
A murmur drifted through the group replete with snickers and subdued references to the frail newcomer. With audible exasperations, the company stopped, and various individuals took up positions along the high ground above Peter. Most sat down and immediately went about retrieving personal objects from their pockets or bags slung under their cloaks.
Visibly irritated, Hannibal made his way back to Peter and Thomas. “You cannot rest here,” he said, gesturing to the trail behind them. “We know not what pursues us.”
Peter said nothing. He got to his feet and with Thomas’s help, climbed the steep slope to arrive among the resting mercenaries.
The members of the company were each busy with their own interests. Seated and standing, some played dice, others meditated, while a few stared into the distance in deep contemplation. Several acknowledged Thomas with a smile or a nod, but most made it a point to ignore Peter.
The small knoll gave Peter the perfect vantage from which to survey the city beyond. The group arrived about ten miles from the outer wall, and even at this distance, he was hard-pressed to see the city in one view. The hewn-stone metropolis was enormous. Its curved walls stretched in a large arc to the edges of his peripheral vision. Buildings of various shapes and heights jutted above the surrounding fortifications. Some structures supported chiseled faces that stared out blankly, across the barren landscape. Others were nothing more than platforms for enormous effigies that stood like sentinels against the black heart of the twilight sky. It was unsettling to see the twisted and hideous figures on such a monstrous scale.
“This is the Garden of Eden?” Peter wondered aloud.
“What’s left of it,” Thomas answered.
Peter shook his head in disbelief. “I thought all those stories were superstitious nonsense.”
Hannibal dropped into a squatting position near the two youngest members of the company. “I lived in a time infested by fanciful tales and superstitions,” he said, smiling at the thought of his former life. “I could scarcely believe it when I arrived—the city was much smaller then as well.”
Peter sat down in the ash next to the old warrior. “What happened?”
“Lucifer was envious of humanity and grew angry,” Hannibal replied. “He vowed to imprison the Almighty and destroy the last vestiges of our immortal souls. To this end, he recruited an army of angels and attacked God.”
“Attacked God?” Peter mused, trying hard to remember his biblical history and struggling to remain in the moment. The tenuous hold on his new reality was slipping away. He did not want it to be true, but he was being confronted with an undeniable set of facts. He was dead and the afterlife was fraught with extreme danger and paralyzing fear.
“Unfortunately for Lucifer,” Hannibal continued, “his ego was greater than his tactical prowess. In short, he failed. God cast Lucifer and his followers into the very prison Lucifer had created.”
“Prison—Hell, you mean?” Peter asked.
“It has many names,” Hannibal replied, ruminating on the knowledge he had gleaned from all the souls he had spoken with since his own demise. “Before his fall and as scathing testimony to his loathing for humanity, Lucifer sent three of his most trusted brethren to capture the Garden and control the Two Trees.”
“The Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge,” Peter interjected, remembering at least that much from the stories told to him as a child.
“God sent the guardian of the Two Trees to counter Lucifer’s lieutenants.” Hannibal gestured to the ashen landscape. “War between them lasted ages and consumed everything.”
“And the angel?” Peter asked, still having a hard time accepting the story as genuine.
“He fought valiantly but was finally overcome,” Hannibal replied, his eyes solemnly scanning the evidence of devastation around them.
Peter took the story in. Biblical accounts and ancient stories meant to backfill the history of God and his angels were sparse and disjointed at best. Hannibal’s interpretation seemed to be a sincere retelling, but it left out key components vital to the current state of the Garden. “Why are we here then?” Peter surprised himself with his impetuous, authority-laden tone and rephrased his question. “I mean, why does anyone come here at all? It makes no sense.”
“Humanity’s fate is inextricably linked with the Two Trees. They shepherd our souls and provide for our wellbeing. Since they reside here, we are forever drawn to this place.” Hannibal pursed his lips in disappointment. “Once our promise was broken, the Almighty cast humanity out of the Garden and sought to sever our ties with the Two Trees, but Lucifer had other ideas. He wanted humans to worship him, so he intervened.”
“Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge,” Peter pondered. “Original sin and all that.”
“That was the catalyst—the reason we are mired here today.”
Peter’s mind conjured up images of the battle between good and evil. Armies of angelic beings fighting against God for the subjugation of humanity—each side trying to impose their will on the other. If everything around Peter was the result, the violence must have been intense. He gestured to the burnt husk of a tree trunk lying nearby. “But with the trees destroyed—”
“They persist,” Hannibal assured. “Heavily guarded within the center of the city, the Two Trees live to this day.” He swung a muscular arm in the sprawling city’s direction. “That place exists as a defensive barrier for the trees. The she-devil queen, Lilith, and her demon factotum constructed the city over several millennia. She was meticulous in her methods.”
“I think I understand,” Peter said. “People come here and she turns them into building materials to make it impossible to destroy the trees. But,” he paused, contemplating the circumstances, “what does any of that have to do with me?”
“Do you know the monk Nicholas?” Hannibal asked.
“I know of him. He died hundreds of years before I was born.”
“The book you carry,” Hannibal said, gesturing to the satchel slung around Peter’s shoulders, “did he give it to you?”
Peter thought back to the antique store. There was a strange figure in the basement. It could have been Nicholas, but he was unsure about everything now and had dismissed that encounter as a phantom—an illusion of the dark. “I don’t know.”
An audible groan escaped from the eavesdropping mercenaries on the hillock. They were sorely disappointed to hear those words.
“It must be him,” Thomas insisted. “Why would she have had Nicholas with her at the Gate?”
Hannibal scoffed. “To deceive us, of course.”
Peter reached into the shoulder bag and produced the leather-bound manuscript. “This is his book—I’m certain of it.”
“But you can’t read it,” Hannibal countered.
Peter shook his head.
“But he can learn,” Thomas said, making eye contact with the old general. “He’s a smart guy—he can figure it out.”
Hannibal stood up and glowered at Peter. “The knowledge contained within that book is the key to this place. I heard her speak of it many times. The queen desires that book above all else.” His stance eased and his voice took on a lighter tone. “Undoubtedly they have tortured Nicholas for its secrets and now have witnessed you carry it through the Gate.” He chuckled softly. “What fate awaits you if you fail?”
The copper taste of fear filled Peter’s mouth. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Nevertheless,” Hannibal said, “the burden is yours to bear.”
Chapter 13
Lilith stood on the highest point of her nearly finished amphitheater and smiled approvingly at her most recent endeavor. The building sat above the level of the city’s perimeter wall and gave an extended view of the landscape beyond. The focal point of the theater was a rectangular stage flanked on both sides by angled walls. In front of the thea
ter’s floor was an orchestra pit with access to all seating levels provided by steps cut at regular intervals into the large blocks of the semi-circular amphitheater.
Throughout the structure, gangs of workers used ropes and pulleys to move immense loads of building materials into position. Once lowered onto the proper tier, the stones, beams, or accoutrements were distributed to more finely skilled artisans for final finishing and placement.
Although the ordered chaos of construction was progressing toward completion, it was not without its complications. As with all substantial construction projects, critical management of the labor force was required and a few privileged human overseers stood out in that regard. The gang bosses were made up of men and women alike, former guards pulled from the rank and file of henchmen at the queen’s disposal. They wore simple purple tunics and wielded whips, swords, and an assortment of iron weaponry. They showed outright contempt for the non-initiate neophytes, beating them remorselessly, oftentimes until there was a work stoppage due to severe injury.
Lilith yawned with indifference at the brutality. There was little the nephesh could do about the violence. There was no better place for the souls to go and her methods were justifiable given the circumstances. To her, humans were nothing more than a nuisance. They were a means to an end, and she could not let them get in the way of the ultimate prize.
Sitri flew up from below and landed next to Lilith on the uppermost course of stones. He knelt on one knee and bowed his head in reverence. “My Queen.”
“News?”
“Hannibal leads them to the vale.”
The air of confidence surrounding Lilith vanished. Her face contorted in consternation, but she waved a hand through the air, dismissing the report. “He is a fool. This changes nothing.”
Noticeably concerned with Lilith’s apathy, Sitri added, “But the book, Mistress—”
“Does them no good,” Lilith snapped. “Perhaps you have forgotten? Combined, our power is now greater than that of any potential assailant.”
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