The Fallen 4 (11 page)

“I know,” Aaron said. “The world doesn’t seem to be getting any better, and unless we can step up our game, it never will. And even if we are proactive…”

“Now, don’t you start sounding like Verchiel,” she warned, hugging him tightly.

“He’s not totally wrong,” Aaron admitted.

“Oh, c’mon,” Vilma said, giving him a shove. “If we followed his lead, we would just lie down and die now, and save ourselves the hassle. I don’t buy it.”

“But there are only so many of us, and way more evil creatures.”

“Then we’ll just have to work all the harder,” Vilma declared.

“Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder…” Aaron gazed off in the direction that Kraus had taken their injured guest.

“Share,” she ordered, looking up at him and thumping his chest with her hand.

“Our mysterious stranger. How many more of them are out there in the world? How many fallen angels weren’t forgiven and never returned to Heaven? How many of them are there—and would they be willing to help us?”

Vilma looked toward the infirmary.

“Huh,” she said, finally understanding his point. “Then I guess we’d better hope he doesn’t die.”

“Or that Verchiel doesn’t kill him,” Aaron added.

*   *   *

Bending the shadows to his will, Satan left his dwelling beneath the cold of the earth to pay a visit to his allies in his quest to order the world.

The Sisters did not seem at all surprised to see him.

“Hark, is that the king of all that flies, slithers, bounds, and crawls?” asked the first of the hunched, hooded figures.

“But why would one such as he visit three lowly ones like us?” asked the second.

“Perhaps he is eager to know of our progress?” suggested the third.

The three robed shapes huddled around an enormous stone cauldron, wafting clouds of foul-smelling smoke obscuring what bubbled within.

The Three Sisters of Umbra reached within the pot, their long-fingered hands adorned with razor-sharp claws that wove the thick, billowing smoke into shapes representative of the world of man.

A world that Satan hoped to subjugate soon.

“The darkness comes all the faster, limiting the time of light, but it is still not constant,” he said.

One of the three turned her hooded gaze to him, only two burning pinpricks of light visible within the darkness of the cowl. “A tremendous responsibility to bestow upon such lowly ones as us,” she said.

“But a task we assault with much vigor,” said another, waving her hands through the exhaust roiling from the seething pot.

Though they were content to wear the guise of lowly subjects, Satan knew them to be far more than that. He had heard rumors that they were some of the first beings upon God’s world, always lurking somewhere in the shadows, always eager to corrupt and bring about the downfall of man.

Satan wondered if they too had been wronged by the Almighty, when He’d brought the accursed light into the universe. He’d broached the subject with the Sisters in the past, but their answers had been cryptic.

All Satan knew was that their dark magicks were unsurpassed and that they were allies in his war against the light. He had a certain fondness for the three Sisters, especially since his own brothers and sisters of darkness had met with unfortunate fates during the battle when Satan had taken control of the Morningstar’s form. Although he would have reduced his sisters and brothers to ash anyway if they had shown any signs of betrayal.

“Fear is high, and despair grows thick, but we still do not have enough strength to bring about the total fall of dark,” said the last of the three.

All three Sisters turned their hooded faces to Satan, and spoke in turn.

“We require more energy, oh blackest of stars.”

“Terror and sadness must permeate the atmosphere.”

“The Fear Engines must be fed if the night eternal is to fall.”

“You will have your horror and misery,” the Darkstar said. “Your dearth of hope.”

From a patch of shadow came an impish voice. “Master.” Satan recognized his servant Scox. “Master, the Community leaders await your address.”

It was time. Satan would unify the Community under his command, to speed up the fall of humanity, but first they had to learn to recognize his omnipotence.

Once more the Sisters spoke.

“You are summoned, oh darkest of stars.”

“Do not dally, for there is much to be done to make the world yours.”

“Show them who you are.… Show them who they must serve.”

The Darkstar spread his wings in a whoosh of stagnant air, eyeing the three as he prepared to leave.

“I will do my part, and you will do yours,” he commanded, using his wings to lift himself from the ground toward the patch of shadows that would transport him to the gathering of fiends.

A gathering of those who would soon call him king.

*   *   *

Scox turned his long neck toward the sounds coming from the next chamber.

Those representing the various races of the Community had been congregating there for some time, and they were not happy to have been kept waiting.

“Master!” he called again into the patch of shadow.

There were terrible screams from the chamber beyond, and
Scox knew that one of the Community members had probably become hungry and made a meal of another.

Such a volatile gathering
, the imp thought, knowing full well that the Community races had issues sharing a world, never mind gathering in the same room. Scox was about to call for his master once more, when the patch of shadow started to undulate like a storm-swept ocean.

Satan, the Darkstar, emerged in all his glory, his wings unfurled.

“They’re waiting,” Scox said, wringing his hands.

Satan glared. “They’ve yet to realize that it is their duty to await me and my commands.” He swiped at imaginary pieces of dust upon his armor.

“Yes, I suppose,” Scox agreed as the sounds of disquiet wafted from the vast room beyond.

“And do I look the part of ruler?” Satan asked the imp.

Scox averted his eyes as he bowed his horned head. He knew only flattery would be welcome.

“When the Community sees you, they will think of nothing more,” the imp spoke.

Satan glanced toward the doorway that would take him out into the chamber.

“This will be a historic moment,” Satan spoke. “When all beasts spawned in shadow at last recognize me as their lord and master.”

Scox again bowed his head, his clawed hands clasped reverently to his chest. “I’m certain it will be glorious,” he added.

Satan flapped his wings once more, ruffling the slick, black feathers, and strode out onto a platform of ice and rock.

Scox followed, but only went out so far, watching from the sidelines.

The gathering of monsters went eerily quiet as Satan reached the center of the stage. Scox extended his neck to look out across the vast amphitheater at those in attendance. All eyes—if they had them—were fixed upon the Darkstar.

“Citizens of the nether,” Satan began, his powerful voice reverberating through the vast underground auditorium. “For countless millennia our kind has been forced to hide from the light of the world and our divine enemies,” Satan extolled, slowly pacing back and forth upon the stage. “But a plan has been formulated, and carefully executed.”

Scox couldn’t believe his eyes. The Darkstar had the Community’s rapt attention. Perhaps they would recognize him as their leader after all.

“And at last it has come to fruition.”

Satan spread his wings and raised his arms.

“I have orchestrated that plan, and I am here to bestow upon you that which has been denied to each and every one of your myriad species. I am here to give you what you have never been able to win for yourselves, no matter how hard you have tried.”

Satan slowly scanned his audience, and Scox believed that his master was attempting to make a personal connection with each and every one of them.

“I give you,” his voice boomed like thunder, “the world.”

Satan’s words were followed by gasps from the beasts and fiends, and Scox watched the various monsters muttering amongst themselves.

His master smiled from the stage.

Suddenly a lone voice spoke from the crowd.

“And what is expected of us? What do you require for such a prize?”

The mutterings, squeaks, and growls grew in intensity, supporting the question.

“What do I… ,” Satan asked, bringing a metal-gauntleted hand to his armored chest, “expect of you?”

The Darkstar paused for effect. Scox could practically feel the anticipation growing from the bestial crowd.

“Your adoration,” Satan announced, again starting to pace. “Your absolute obedience.”

He paused again. The Community hung on his every word.

“And for you to call me king.”

The vast chamber became very still as Satan’s words began to permeate.

Scox was unsure what he had expected. Jubilant cheers? Cries and howls of excitement? He’d certainly never expected what followed.

As Satan waited for a response, an armored demon sprang up onto the stage. At first it seemed that the demon would kneel and swear its allegiance, but then it drew its sword.

“I’d just as soon die before swearing my loyalty to the likes of you!” the demon raged, charging Satan with a sword caked with the blood from previous kills.

Scox gasped.

The blade descended toward his master’s skull, but Satan was faster.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Satan said, reaching out with blinding speed to grab the demon’s wrist. He snapped its arm like a twig, causing its weapon to clatter to the ground.

Scox winced as Satan tore the demon apart, limb from limb, until only a pile of bloody pieces remained.

Finished with his gruesome chore, the Darkstar looked out to the crowd.

“Anybody else?” Satan asked, wiping his gore-covered hands together. “Would anyone else rather die than serve me?”

The chamber erupted into total chaos. Monsters of every conceivable size and shape charged en masse toward the stage.

Scox knew that it was best to flee the scene, but he found himself frozen in place, watching the symphony of violence that unfolded before him.

The beasts rushed Satan in a tidal wave of snarling, hissing, wailing fury that surged onto the ice stage with only one intention. Scox watched his master, marveling at the fact that Satan
did not move from where he stood as the tsunami of violence bore down upon him.

Satan threw open his arms and wings in a welcoming gesture as the creatures of darkness who refused to recognize his authority attacked with the utmost ferocity.

They piled on him, weapons—as well as fangs and claws—ready to dispatch death upon the one who wished to rule them all.

Scox stood transfixed as his master was engulfed. He was tempted to cry out but feared the beasts would turn their rage on him.

So he remained quiet as the scene unfolded before his eyes. Scox never would have imagined so many different species of beast working together toward one goal: the murder of one who dared to proclaim himself king.

After so many centuries of ruling themselves, these creatures of the darkness did not respond well to the Darkstar’s authority. It had been an interesting concept, but one that was doomed to fail—not that Scox had ever mentioned that to his master. To do so would have most assuredly courted his demise, and he quite enjoyed being the last of his species.

Scox was considering retreating, when there was a sudden flash of darkness.

Instead of an explosion of light, there came an outburst of shadow. Bodies flew in every direction, discarded and torn asunder by the mysterious detonation.

Covered in the blood of his master’s attackers, Scox
craned to see what had happened. If he hadn’t already been cold-blooded, the servant imp’s blood would have frozen to ice from the sight. The crowds of murderous fiends had been driven back, corpses forming a ring of death around the Darkstar.

His glistening wings of ebony black unfurled, and he held a sword whose blade was as black as night.

The creatures of the darkness were as stunned as Scox, falling back at the sight, gasping as Satan then stood, surrounded by carnage.

“It doesn’t need to be this way,” Satan spoke in the calmest of voices. His voice was so soft and bereft of emotion that he could have been asking for a goblet of virgin’s blood or the time of the next full moon.

Scox understood what he was doing. Satan was giving them another chance to accept him as their ruler.

Another chance to live.

And for a moment Scox believed that they were considering his master’s offer.

Accepting Satan’s mercy.

But beasts such as this seldom used their brains, being so caught up in their lust for blood.

It was a Duergar troll, the largest of the troll species, and the most vicious, who raised its ax above its head, and with a roar inspired those still alive to attack once more.

Scox saw the look upon his master’s face as they charged
again. He was disheartened with what was about to occur, but he would protect himself—his mission—at all costs.

He would prove a point to the survivors.

Since the Duergar reignited the frenzy, it was only right that it was the first in this new wave to die. Scox didn’t know if trolls believed in anything beyond the life they lived, but whatever they believed, the Duergar was now confronted with it.

Satan showed no mercy. His blade of darkness sliced through the tough leathery skin and internal workings of the Duergar, cutting it in half.

It was as if the troll’s blood fueled the others’ stupidity, and they began to throw themselves at their enemy. Satan met their attacks, his blade of shadow cutting them down, one after the other.

And still they came at Satan. It was as if they had committed to this act, and would see it through no matter how futile.

Scox wondered if his master would have shown mercy if one of the monstrous Community had laid down its weapons, sheathed its claws, and bowed its head, swearing allegiance.

Would the Darkstar forgive their indiscretions against him?

This was a question perhaps for another time, for none appeared ready to give up without a fight. Demons, trolls, goblins, and giants fell before the Darkstar. Satan never seemed to tire, never seemed to falter.