There But For The Grace (23 page)

I caught glimmers of movement in the left window, and I pointed. “That one!”

The battering continued. The gate opened just that little bit more by the mechanism controlling it rather than the ram, but my army of the damned just took that as one step closer to victory. The cheers went up, the fighting vigor caught a second wind, and we all moved as one.

We pushed forward into the crush of bodies, and a shout from Parker made me jerk my head up. “Addy, can you shoot that!?” I looked up and froze. Tab was climbing out the window, his crimson wings edged in black drooping as he tottered on the ledge.

“No! No, that’s Tab! That’s my friend!” I screamed.

Tab swayed on his feet, looking into the crowd below, and I screamed, “Tab,
no
!” as he pitched forward and began to fall.

Tabbris

I’d almost expected to be ambushed the moment I finished the flight up. In the 8th Circle, there were many places to hide. Here, I was exposed. There were sand dunes and hills, but as I quickly discovered in trying to get away from the edges of the cliffs, the sand slid easily, making progress slow and difficult.

I wasn’t very far in when the local rain began. Showers of sparks and tiny flickers of flame came down over the vast, dry stretches. Thankfully, they weren’t intense enough to do me any real harm, so long as I kept my head down. That did present the problem of making it more difficult to scan the skies for signs of Gadreel, any of the other Fallen, or winged Demons. The one small comfort was that this terrain would be as difficult for the hounds as it was for me, but fliers would have no such difficulty as long as they were able to withstand the falling embers and what would be, to most, blistering heat.

Reaching the top of the first rise gave me a view of the valley in the sand below. More hills and dunes rose ahead of me, keeping me from having a clear idea what lay ahead, but I finally encountered some of the damned of this layer. Blasphemers and loan-sharks covered much of the desert floor. The latter were permitted to sit in place in the valleys, chained there in black iron shackles that picked up on the relentless heat of the desert and burned the metal into their ankles. The blasphemous were chained lying on the hillsides or the most exposed flats. The only difference between them I could see was that some had their eyelids removed, so they couldn’t even close their eyes against the bright light or the burning rain.

I did my best to avoid tormenting them further but, where possible, did use the chains that trailed into the hillsides to help me scale the next rise. Even with them, forward progress was slow going, as the sands continually shifted to try to drag me back to the bottoms of the valleys unless I really dug in with each step or stab.

I heard the wingbeats just in time to turn and raise my sword, as I was cresting a new dune. Metal clashed on metal as the Fallen’s momentum carried me backwards and sent me tumbling into the next valley, sand coming down with my tumble and threatening to bury me at the bottom. I pulled free before I could be buried enough to trap me in place. I couldn’t get back to my feet before they were on me, two of the Grigori coming flying down the hill on the attack.

I parried one and rolled out of the way of the other as they swooped upwards again after the attacks. They separated, trying to dive and come at me from different directions so I could only track one of them. As they rose, so did I, fighting back to my feet in the loose sand. I raised my sword and faced off with one, turning as he whirled in the air.

Turning my blade as he moved, I caught a reflection of motion in the reflective surface. I side-stepped the diving Fallen. I’d hoped to get a sword blow in, but failed to time my swing properly. I jumped after him, trying to grab for him before he could get airborne, catching onto a wing. That disrupted his flight enough that he crashed back to the sand, sending both of us tumbling. He tried to get up so he could take off again but, in the loose and shifting sand, was struggling. I’d gotten slightly more used to it and managed to get back to my feet first, launching myself into a tackle just as he was getting his feet under him. As we hit the ground, he dropped his sword, which was quickly buried where it lay. As I tried to stab him, he grabbed my wrist, and we struggled for several seconds. He looked over my shoulder, giving me all the warning I needed that his companion was coming. I rolled aside, and while he didn’t let go of my wrist, the sword slash missed me and nearly hit the Fallen I was struggling with instead.

The Fallen who had been airborne landed a short distance away, getting his footing and preparing to come back at us. With me dodging the attack, the Fallen I was wrestling with on the ground ended up on top, still fighting for control of my sword. He smashed me with a few punches from his off-hand, fighting to wrench control of my blade away. I punched back, but with my back on the ground, I didn’t have as much leverage as he did.

The other Fallen approached quickly, turning his sword about for a downward stab. I managed to shift position enough to sweep his feet out from under him with one wing, but took a couple more punches to the head in the process. I fought back without much effect aside from shifting us in the sand, and starting to bury myself in place, limiting my mobility even more. A couple more punches slammed into my face, before he switched tactics, grabbing for my throat, trying to shove my head under the sand so I couldn’t see his companion coming. I didn’t have much time, since I knew he’d be getting back to his feet.

I dug my feet in as best I could, shifting us in the sand more, and gave up trying to punch back or push him away. I reached to the side, hoping I was remembering correctly, reaching through the sand while he got hold of my throat, and sand covered my face.

My fingers closed on metal, taking a deep cut to the hand before I managed to grab the hilt. Though he kept my sword hand trapped, he didn’t see the attack with his own dropped weapon coming until I dug the short blade into his stomach. He quickly lost his grip on my wrist and sword both, and I pushed back to the surface just in time to see the other coming for me, sword raised. As I shifted my body, I kept a hand on the hilt of the sword I’d put through the stomach of the Fallen I’d been wrestling with and managed to shove his struggling body into the way of the swing. The attack hit his wing, cutting into the bone and sticking there.

Shoving the struggling Fallen off of my torso, I sat up and stabbed, punching my sword through the thigh of the Fallen before he could wrench his blade out of the other’s wing. He screamed and stumbled back, leaving his sword where it was trapped in the bone. He would be airborne before I got to my feet, leaving me with few options. Getting as much strength behind it as I could, I threw the other Fallen’s sword. The throw was on target, plunging into his shoulder. He lost his balance in the sand on being hit and tumbled backwards, giving me a few more seconds. I got to my feet before he did, pointing my sword at his throat. “Tell Gadreel that if he wants me, he can come get me himself.”

“You tell him when he gets here,” he growled back at me. “The third of our company went to get him when we saw you. We’re just slowing you down—so he can bleed you out himself.”

I didn’t see any hint of lie on his face, but that didn’t guarantee anything. He’d virtually surrendered, but I couldn’t let him easily get back to Gadreel. I hesitated, in the choice between running him through and smashing him over the head with the hilt, and he used that moment to turn to smoke. I turned, to see his fellow had done the same, both wisps disappearing into the dunes. At least that was slower than flying, and it would take them some time and effort to reform. In the meanwhile, I had to assume he was telling the truth, and I had to move.

Where I had to climb, having the extra blade didn’t hurt, letting me make up for a little bit of the time lost in the fight—and the extra difficulty in moving after the fight and all the blows to the head. Having to struggle through the desert wasn’t helping, especially once I got through some of the worst of the first hills and instead ran directly into a sandstorm. I could see shadowy figures moving through it in groups—the damned souls of those who directed their violence against nature rather than God or their fellow man. They wandered aimlessly, trying to find their way to refuge while being punished by the scorching winds and grating sand.

The risk of getting as lost as they were was a real one, but it was better odds than trying to outrun Gadreel or other Fallen on foot, and trying to move around the storm would take a lot of time I didn’t have. I focused straight ahead on my intended destination as best I could and plunged into the storm. I pulled my wings in as much as I could, and hunched down against the wind. It was less than perfect here, with the realm itself trying to get them, and me, lost, but I had a far better sense of direction than the damned. Usually, it let me jump about the world as needed and guided me towards those places I was needed. Here, with the realm itself trying to get me lost, I just gained the occasional sense I was getting too far off course.

It was a long, slow struggle moving through the storm. The footing was better in a lot of places, moving across hot, sand-blasted stone, but the other aspects of the storm more than made up for it. A number of times, I was fairly certain shadows passed over me, flying above the storm. Either they couldn’t pick me out at all, couldn’t be certain of one shape moving through the storm from any other, or Gadreel didn’t want to challenge me in such an uncertain environment. Any of those were possible, and unfortunately, there was more than enough terrain ahead that would provide him clearer shots at me.

After what seemed like at least a day of wandering, fighting through the desert storm, I found another stone wall. I couldn’t see easily to find hand and footholds, but I managed to climb with aid from two blades, having to dig them in deep in order to not have the rock just crumble away. I didn’t see anyone as I rose above the storm, thankfully. I pushed myself harder, almost falling a couple times in my haste. I caught myself both times, finally pulled myself up over the rocky ledge, and immediately found myself in at the edge of a vast wooded area, densely packed with thorn trees. Each and every one of the individual thorn trees had once been a person, condemned for their violent sins born of self-loathing, or self-indulgence. In return for their sins, they were twisted into these forms—painful enough—but any move, and their thorns might rake others around them, and the trees and bushes were regularly fed on by harpies, the only beings who could live comfortably among them. Anyone else who passed through would suffer the thorns, sometimes simply by accident, more often by the actions of those trees that were more than happy to pass their suffering to others.

There were times that the profligates—those who caused great harm through excessive self-indulgence and life beyond their means—would be chased through these woods by packs of hellhounds, given the choice of being flayed by the trees or torn apart by packs of hunters too focused on the hunt to care about the forest. Thankfully, right now, I didn’t see or hear any of those, either. Perhaps I had given some of the poor souls a small respite, if they’d rounded up enough hounds to aid in the hunt through the pits.

Regardless, I had to get out of here. As quiet as it was, there would be no rest, and eventually, whether chasing the hapless, or hunting me, there would be hounds, and if there weren’t hounds, there would be harpies in great numbers when they decided it was time to feed. I had enough of a fight in front of me without worrying about fighting a swarm of fliers while I was ground-bound.

I did my best to stay low, out of line of sight of anyone watching. There was no avoiding all of the thorns, but thankfully, they did little harm to me, aside from tearing at my clothes and my bandages, even when some of the more vengeful among them actively struck out at me as I passed. I did my best to not harm them further, the limited kindness I could do, but many were brittle enough that I couldn’t help but break off the occasional branch or twig as I passed, especially when some of those caught on to me. Where pieces broke off, the trees and bushes bled red, instead of sap, their true nature not far from the surface, no matter how much they’d been twisted and malformed to become a permanent part of this place.

I drew my sword but tried to keep it down and close to myself, to do as little damage as possible while still being ready. I was tempted, more than once, to cut my way through the forest. It would have been far quicker and easier, but I knew that a part of the temptation was also the realm speaking. My temporary victory in escaping the pits and the deepest layers helped to dispel some part of the despair for now, but Hell had plenty of whispers. This was a place of needless cruelty, or, even more insidious, easy cruelty and violence. Doing harm, because it was the easy way. I couldn’t let myself fall to that, any more than I could give up in the depths below.

“I had so hoped I’d catch up with you in the Eighth.” Gadreel’s voice. “I would have relished watching you climb the vast cliffs, unable to fly. But this will do.”

I got my sword up in time to block the attack as soon as I figured what direction the motion was coming from. Unlike me, he had no difficulty cutting down, or charging through anything—anyone—in his way. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Even at the best of times, a fight between myself and Gadreel could go either way. This wasn’t the best of times. I fought defensively, parrying his blows, not even trying to get in attacks of my own, aside from shoving him backwards. Gadreel was only too happy to cut down trees, hack through branches, and forge through thorn thickets. He was even happier to force me backwards through them where he could. He had me trapped—I couldn’t turn and run, and while I could keep backing away, I’d be slowed by the thickets and snagging thorns, while he followed through the broken path.

Trying to not let the forest wear me down further, I attempted to stand my ground. It worked for a while, deflecting his blade aside, and fighting defensively, trying to create openings. Unfortunately, instead of being over-aggressive, the way I’d hoped, he seemed content to fence with me and wear me down further. “I’m surprised you sent Kasdaye to do your dirty work. Wasn’t sure you could handle me yourself?”