Chapter 3: The Sunken City

  The whole of Blessed End gathered in the village square for judgement.

  For Anki.

  No torches burned bright there in the vast cavern. Only six braziers arranged in a circle.

  Beneath them six stone slabs lay, each carved with one of the Commandments of the Blessed End.

  Illuminated so that at any time of day or night in the midnight black caves, the law would still be clear to all.

  Smoke curled toward the cave ceiling and gathered in a thin gray veil.

  Anki stood at the center, staring at his feet and waiting to hear his fate.

  The villagers formed a ring around him. Dozens of them. Mothers and fathers. Hunters and Moss-Pickers and Weavers. All gathered.

  Vrala. Bandoo. Kabana. Mureeshi. Tyshal.

  Men, women, and children he had known all his life — who now would not meet his eyes.

  Some wept, but no one said a thing to Anki.

  It was like last night had been some kind of dream, and in truth he had died that night instead of his father. Now haunting the End as some specter.

  Though he knew this was folly.

  The body of Randu had already been burned without ceremony before his arrival.

  And a small mound of still smouldering ash and blackened bones remained.

  Proctor Thadaleis stepped forward, gray robes whispering over painted stones.

  Mural beneath telling in a rainbow of colored shards of their storied flight from the Wastes and eventual sanctuary in the End.

  Every scrap of every beautiful thing they had owned when they arrived here had been melted down to create it.

  Jewelry. Gold. Glassware.

  All melted down and forged into something new.

  Now it brought Anki little comfort.

  The spiraled tattoos across Thadaleis’ scalp seemed darker in the low light.

  “Anki of Blessed End,” he began, voice carrying evenly, “you stand accused of breaking the Second Commandment.”

  A murmur rippled through the gathered villagers.

  Do No Harm to the People.

  Shed No Blood.

  Anki couldn’t help but lower his head in defeat. His darkest terror finally coming to pass.

  He was to be tried as a murderer.

  Thadaleis continued.

  “You slew Randu, son of Tel, within the sacred caves?”

  Anki nodded.

  “I did.”

  Some in the crowd gasped. Mothers clutched tighter to their children. And old men spat in disgust.

  “Why?” demanded Elder Marrek from the outer ring. His voice cracked with age and fury. “Why did you spill blood boy!? Your own father’s blood?”

  The old wrinkled man had never liked Randu much, or Anki for that matter. Or anyone.

  Anki lifted his head to the Elder.

  “My father Randu summoned a demon.”

  Gasps of terror, cries and shouts of alarm.

  “You lie!” someone shouted.

  “He’s the one consorted with devils!” another cried. “The boy was always quiet—always watchful—”

  “Maybe he helped his father—”

  “He returned with a bloodied knife, for Commandments’ sake!”

  Thadaleis raised a hand.

  “Please, silence my brothers and sisters, silence!”

  Silence returned slowly to the reluctant crowd.

  “Did you speak with the demon?” the Proctor asked firmly once they had settled.

  “No.” Anki answered just as firm.

  “Did you bargain with the demon?”

  Just a drop and I can restore your father anew.

  “No.” Anki said, his voice faltering with tears.

  “Did you kneel to demonkind?”

  “No!” Anki cried, emotion exploding outward.

  The crowd shied back from him as if afraid.

  “Then why did you kill your father? What happened that night?” Thadaleis asked softly.

  Anki swallowed.

  “He tried to give me to it.”

  Marrek stepped forward, jabbing a trembling finger toward the boy.

  “And so you murdered him!? As if there were no other choice! The Second Commandment is clear!”

  “The First is clearer,” Thadaleis replied evenly.

  The cavern stilled. Even Marek withdrew his finger and stepped back.

  The silence deepened.

  Thadaleis closed his eyes briefly, before letting them flutter open.

  “The First Commandment preserves our souls,” he said slowly. “The Second preserves our bodies.”

  “And Randu son of Tel would have defiled both,” Thadaleis urged, “Randu’s, Anki’s, the body and soul of the very home we love…had Anki not defended himself,”

  Marrek’s voice rose again.

  “Or perhaps the boy feared being exposed! Perhaps he conspired and silenced his own father to hide his guilt!”

  Several nodded in agreement.

  The mere idea of corruption inside their caves seemingly more terrifying to them than the very real demons outside of them.

  “He should be executed,” Marrek said plainly. “A danger like this cannot be allowed to fester.”

  Execution.

  The word did not frighten Anki.

  It felt far too distant to reach him. They all did.

  Thadaleis turned to the boy, forcing Anki again to meet his eyes.

  “Did you collude with devils, son?” Thadaleis asked loudly.

  “No.” Anki answered hoarsely.

  “Would you swear it before all Six?”

  “I swear it before all Six Commandments. I bent to no demon. I am a son of Blessed End, Proctor.”

  “So was Randu…” Marek muttered bitterly.

  The Proctor studied him for a long moment.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  The braziers flickered.

  “Then we are left with this,” Thadaleis said to the gathered villagers. “He broke the Second Commandment to uphold the First.”

  “Blood was shed!” Marrek roared in protest.

  “If we excuse such a violent breaking of the Second, then what remains of us?! We’ve lasted nine years without so much as a brawl! How long before we descend into blood-thirsting savages like those below?!”

  “What remains,” Thadaleis said quietly, “is a people who have survived the Fall by refusing to kneel to fear.”

  From the crowd.

  Division.

  Fear.

  Anki listened to them argue over his life as though it belonged to someone else.

  Execution.

  Mercy.

  Isolation.

  Penance.

  Exile.

  It was Marrek who finally spat the word with satisfaction.

  “Let it be banishment then. Let the Wastes judge him if we cannot!”

  The crowd seemed near to blows as neighbors and friends roared and spat red faced at one another.

  Banishment meant stepping beyond the high caves.

  Banishment meant the Demon Wastes.

  Banishment meant death.

  Anki took a long slow breath, and stepped forward.

  “I volunteer myself for exile.”

  The cavern fell silent.

  Even Marrek blinked.

  Thadaleis stared at him.

  “You understand what you ask?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will die out there.”

  “I-yes, I understand.”

  “And you accept this?”

  Anki nodded. He felt numb. But it was the only choice.

  “If we grant banishment instead of execution, you will not return. Ever. Do you understand?” Thadaleis asked slowly.

  “I did not break the First Commandment,” Anki said with a shudder. “But if it means no more blood is spilled here, I will go.”

  It was the first time his voice shook.

  “This is what I have to do.”

  The proctor frowned and shook his head ruefully.

  Thadaleis stepped forward and placed his hand gently on the boy’s head, ruffling his brown locks.

  “Then by the authority of the Six Commandments, Anki, son of Randu, of Blessed End is banished forevermore...” he said with great sadness.

  “I am so very sorry.”

  None cheered, though many cried as Anki quickly, mutely, gathered what remained of his things. Of his life.

  For a journey into the Demon Wastes that would surely take his life.

  …

  The stink of blood-rain replaced the scent of smoke and ash as Anki and Axe trudged down the muddy hillside.

  The mud sucked at their boots, red runoff carving slow veins down the slope.

  “So your little village—”

  “Blessed End,” Anki corrected automatically.

  Axe glanced sideways at him.

  “Bit grim of a name, isn’t it?”

  “All things end,” Anki said, repeating an old proverb. “A blessed end is to meet your fate without fear or regret. To remain true to yourself and others. Even when the world falls apart.”

  He looked toward the valley below.

  The Sunken City looked like a festering wound that hadn’t closed— roofs collapsed inward, towers and citadels bent at odd angles, and red growths clinging to every surface like infected flesh.

  Shutters twitched in empty windows.

  “Especially then.”

  Axe snorted.

  “Where are you from then?” Anki asked after a moment. “One of those Pact Cities you mentioned?”

  Axe’s jaw tightened.

  “No. They don’t like us much there.”

  Something pale floated past in a drainage channel below — a face, mouth hanging slack, eyeless and swollen, caught briefly in a grate before tearing free and drifting onward.

  Anki shivered.

  “Why?”

  A heavy pause sat between them.

  “You seem…” Anki hesitated. “…decent.”

  Axe barked a humorless laugh.

  “Demons,” he said simply. “We kill them where we find them. And the ‘Pact Cities’ are full of them.”

  He winked at Anki

  “They’re not fond of dying, you understand, but who is?”

  Anki balked at the implications.

  “Cities of demons?”

  All his life the creatures had been monsters from nightmare, mindless forces of destruction wandering the wastes in search of blood.

  Hard to imagine such things living anywhere.

  “And worse,” Axe muttered. “People.”

  Anki frowned. “People and demons living together? How?”

  Axe spat into the blood-wet soil.

  “However they have to…”

  He said it softly, and with obvious disgust.

  “Your home?” Axe asked a little too quickly.

  “No demons there?”

  “Absolutely not!” Anki answered hotly. “Blessed End was founded to reject the corruption of the Fall. We chose not to adapt and defile ourselves, but to seal ourselves away to await our end.”

  Axe scoffed.

  “Sounds like a cave full of cowards.”

  Anki’s head snapped toward him.

  “We preserve what is good!” Anki shot back. “It is not cowardice to refuse corruption. Our Six Commandments preserve us!”

  His fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel.

  “And what do your rules, your ‘Six Commands’ or whatever, actually preserve?” Axe asked evenly, his eyes narrowed.

  “Seems like they’ve landed you in the Wastes, same as everyone else. So what did your rules do for you?”

  An awkward silence stretched between them as they walked.

  Below, the Sunken City simmered beneath its storm.

  Anki broke first.

  “They preserved my life. My home. My hope. For as long as they could. But nothing lasts forever...” The child answered coldly.

  Axe had no reply, but seemed to chew on the words with some discomfort.

  “Where are you from, then?” Anki asked, with some irritation.

  Axe did not answer immediately.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said with finality.

  “It’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Destroyed. Nine years ago.”

  Anki understood then.

  The Day the Sky Tore.

  The Day Demons Fell.

  Most in Blessed End refused to speak of it anymore, when the rift between the worlds of flesh and spirit were torn and nightmares claimed dominion of Skraid.

  Anki and his generation knew it only through monikers now.

  The Tide of Teeth and Blood.

  The Night of Sorrows’ Birth.

  The Fall.

  “I’m sorry…about your home.” Anki said quietly.

  Axe shrugged.

  “Don’t be. People lost a lot more their homes.”

  His eyes were on the burning cathedral below.

  Anki followed his gaze.

  And wondered what else the man had lost.

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.”

  Anki could hardly believe it.

  Hardly older than himself, Axe had survived out here all alone for what must have been nine terrible years.

  Anki glanced at the bundle on Axe’s back, which seemed to be humming softly.

  Not entirely alone then.

  The storm above the Sunken City churned violently.

  Blood-rain fell in thick sheets.

  Axe adjusted the weight on his back.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get this over with, Nahmaaris hates getting wet.”

  And they began their final descent into the city.

  …

  Leaving the hillside they entered the shattered outskirts of town, sinking ankle deep immediately in lapping crimson.

  Blood filled Anki’s boots and drenched his trousers up to the knee.

  Bits of refuse flowed with the current.

  Cloth. Wood. Scraps of hair?

  It wasn’t hot, this blood, nor sticky. It flowed like water, and the cool current eased the scorching pain of his wounded ankle.

  Even as its overwhelming coppery scent nearly made him retch every few strides.

  Axe seemed not to notice.

  He chewed on a piece of jerky, uncaring as the blood rain spattered it between bites.

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “No it’s not,” Axe said around a mouthful.

  “It’s lunch. You eat when you can out here.”

  He swallowed.

  “Want some?” He asked, holding out another bloody scrap of meat.

  “No…thank you.”

  Anki stared ruefully above at the endless deluge.

  “Is this…human blood?”

  Axe seemed to ponder this.

  “I fucking hope not,” Axe said, and threw back another greedy bite. He smacked his lips in satisfaction.

  The rain answered with a heavier splatter.

  Anki was about to retort when something brushed his calf.

  He flinched violently.

  Only water.

  Only the slow fetid current flowing past his legs.

  He exhaled shakily.

  Then it brushed him again.

  Not water this time.

  Something rough and cold wrapping slowly about his leg.

  Axe’s chewing slowed.

  The rain kept falling.

  Thick. Rhythmic. Endless.

  “Axe?” Anki whispered.

  Then was wrenched violently under the blood.

  Anki was blinded by the thick red flow for a moment, the fluid stinging his hurt eye.

  As the darkness began to clear he could see a purple-hued tentacle wrapped around and around his calf.

  The appendage ended in a delicate, pale human hand which held his ankle as it dragged him through the water towards some nightmarish body that Anki could only dream at.

  He kicked at the demon, but his movements were slow under the current, weak and feeble against its monstrous strength.

  The river detonated beside his head as Nahmaaris tore through it, missing him by a breath.

  For a moment, the creature stalled.

  Anki hung still in the water, held fast, before the creature released his leg slowly and slithered back into the dark as quickly as it had come.

  Anki wrenched himself sputtering back to his feet.

  Axe stood, both hands on the unwrapped sword, watching the water for movement with all the focus of a fisherman.

  “What was that!?”

  “Demon.” He said without turning.

  Anki could contain his frustrations no longer.

  “Agh! You nearly killed me! Again!”

  “Again? What was the first time?” Axe looked over at him quizzically.

  “When you used me as bait!!”

  Axe rolled his eyes and began to open his mouth to speak, when the water exploded at his feet.

  Four enormous tentacles, slick and scaled like a fish in pearlescent purple, erupted from all directions, delicate woman’s hands reaching lovingly out to him.

  Axe swung, severing one limb in a splash of black gore, but had no time to turn as the other three caught hold of his legs, and one arm and wrenched them wide.

  Grunting and grinding his teeth Axe fought against the demon's strength as it slowly wrenched his arms away from the hilt of the sword.

  His grip slipped once. Twice.

  The veins in his forearms were black, exploding in their confines. But it wasn’t enough.

  .With a cry of pure anguish Axe dropped the sword into the river. It floated downstream like a log in a flash flood.

  In an instant the limbs released Axe, and streaked away with shocking speed after Nahmaaris.

  Vanishing in the distance.

  Axe stood there, frozen.

  In shock.

  His eyes wide and hands trembling.

  “Nahmaaris…” he said it like a whimper.

  “Axe? Axe are you alright?”

  “It took him.”

  “It’s ok Axe, we’ll get him back.”

  “How? They’ve taken him.”

  “Well surely-“ Anki thought back to the man’s incredible acts of strength and healing. Superhuman feats of combat prowess.

  All while holding a massive stone sword aloft.

  All while holding Nahmaaris.

  A horrible realization dawned.

  “-Oh.”

  “Without him, I’m just a man, Anki.”

  His shoulders shrank smaller without the great weight across them.

  The demon hunter put his head in his hands.

  “And there’s a demon out hunting…”

  We’re dead, Anki, he seemed to mean.

  “So?” Anki heard himself say. Shocking them both. Following a feeling, he continued.

  “I’ve been in danger since I left home. Nothing's changed for me.”

  “And I still have somewhere to be. Don’t you?”

  Axe paused for a long breath, and slowly he nodded.

  “Then let’s go. Demons to kill. Cursed swords to save. Right?”

  “Right.” Axe replied bitterly.

  He took hold of the boys arm, and pulled them along.

  Towards the current.

  Towards Nahmaaris.

  Towards the cathedral.

  …

  They found the bodies within sight of the grand doors of the cathedral.

  Enormous and still distant a few city blocks away.

  The corpses hung in dancing rows from the branches of tree-like growths of flesh that grew here and there.

  Their bodies were broken, limbs and necks dislocated, snapped, ribs burst through their stomachs.

  Each wore a hood, and pale-gray colored hide clothing that looked rough and uncomfortable. Their skin was scarred, and dark.

  “Who are they?”

  “Familiars from a Pact City. A demon’s human pets.” Axe said with disdain.

  The First Commandment burned Anki’s mind and he drew back in fear.

  “What are they doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” Axe stopped and pondered this for a long time. Obviously disturbed.

  “What is it?”

  “Demons don’t do this.”

  “What, murder people?”

  “Leave warnings. They’re not that charitable.” His brow furrowed as his eyes traced a line from the corpses to the looming monument of stone before us.

  “Axe-“ Anki began.

  “Something has been bothering me since they took Nahmaaris.”

  “Hm?” Axe said with barely any interest.

  “Why haven’t they tried killing us again?”

  “Not sure, but I’m going to make them regret it.”

  Axe grabbed Anki again and trudged onwards to find whatever secrets lay beyond the soft silver light.

  …

  End Chapter 3

  Next chapter is almost finished, should be out today or tomorrow.