The Edge Part 10
Here we are in hell...
Harikoras grunts and ignores Ara's question, looking instead towards the rise she noticed. "We can move or we can freeze," he says, his voice quieter than normal and the ever-present hate soft and undirected. "Thanks to your friend back there, I have no idea where we are. I don't recognise this place." He sheathes his sword and looks back at Ara, not sparing her any more hatred than he does for the ice. "Coming?"
“Huh?” is Ara’s eloquent reply. “Oh, yeah, I’m coming.” She mutters, moving after Harikoras. The truth is the cold doesn’t bother her much. Her kind is fairly used to harsh conditions. “So…” she starts, but then she is distracted again, by a vague shape in the distance. “What’s that?” The shape seems like that of a human being, but Ara’s experience in this strange world tells me it can be just about anything. “If that’s Mosi I’m going to pull his ears from his head.”
Grahaust lifts his head toward the sky and then looks over Nyssa and Sheris. "I didn't intend to evoke, in either of you, any concern as to the manner of my ethic. It is not my nature nor my training that moves me so. I betrayed both just now." He begins to lose himself in thought and memory but soon comes back to reality. Realizing the awkward stir of emotion within him he attempts to change the subject, stretching his large hand toward their goal. He then asks, "Shall we move onward?"
Sheris looks after Rime’s retreat and lowers her sword slowly as she looks Grahaust, listening impatiently as he explains. She narrows her eyes distrustfully, but feels too anxious to continue considering him. “Le’s go…” She says blankly and moves quickly ahead along the paths.
Meanwhile, the dark figure in the distance moves closer to Ara and Harikoras, slowly becoming clear through the drifting snow on the air. It descends the rise ahead, and it becomes clear that the figure is most likely male, despite his rather long, dark hair. He also appears wingless and is completely dressed in dark, tattered garb. He approaches the two but does not come directly before them, as he stops some short distance away. His voice is low and sarcastic on the air, “Two lost fledglings shivering in a frozen wasteland,… how quaint. Won’t you come join me.” He gestures with a slight bow, obviously exaggerated and almost mocking in nature. He then straightens as a frigid gust of wind swirls the snow up and around them; the stranger seems unaffected by the cold, “You may come now, or we can collect your stiff, frozen bodies later…” The man grins slightly then turns and starts back up the rise, not waiting for an answer.
"Too much to hope that we would be found by something that is not an arrogant, stuck-up snob, apparently." Harikoras's voice warms with rising hatred, dispelling the slight softness that had settled there. "This place is nothing different to the rest of this hell; demons are either belligerent idiots or so self-absorbed they turn inside-out, where it seems they keep black clothing. Or both," he adds with a growl. "I just hope this one's not so much of a pompous pillock that he knows more than the lay of his hand." He brushes at a stray snowflake caught on his eyelash and stamps off. "Son of your father's granddaughter piece of spore-infested cheesebreath, sorry excuse for a..." He mutters continuously as he walks, following the dark figure.
“Frozen?” Ara mutters as she follows Harikoras, ignoring his angry ranting. “Strange people live here…” she says, longing for her homeland. At least the temperatures are more to her liking. A flake of snow decides that her nose is as good a place to land on as any. Ara stares at it cross eyed for a moment before it melts. The cold doesn’t bother her at all. “Why are we following him?” She asks Harikoras. “I mean… sure, he’s no Mosi, but he is a little weird.”
The figure ahead disappears over the rise the three are approaching. As Ara and Harikoras meet the crest, they find that the figure has mysteriously disappeared. Instead they find before them, not far away, a sight one would not expect to find in hell... Rising high into the air stands an elaborate and beautiful ice palace, with jagged spears rising high into the haze of the snow above. The white castle majestically stands before them, cutting into the blank landscape, which appears to be nothing more than rolling hills of ice and snow for some distance. Beyond those lie huge, glacial rises creating an impenetrable wall. A single figure can be seen at the entrance to the grand structure, and a hand waves, beckoning them to enter as the figure turns and walks through the great door that swings open to allow passage inside.
Ara glances over at Harikoras. “I suppose you want to enter the pretty yet fragile ice palace?” She shakes her head slightly. “I knew someone who wanted to build something like this once. That didn’t work of course… it looked nice enough, but you couldn’t set foot in it…”She walks towards the entrance, not particularly interested in Harikoras's answer. She felt strangely numb, as though all of her emotional highs and lows has been flattened. “Is it just me or do these demons pick strange houses?”
A loud snort comes from Harikoras. "Wait till you see what angels come up with," he says, contempt ripping from his teeth. "'Practical' is not a word the denizens of the higher or lower planes are familiar with. Still, you never know," he says as he walks down the hall, the ice turning everything pale blue next to the white of winter outside, "we might get lucky." He smacks his fist into a wall of ice next to him, dislodging a few small icicles but otherwise not damaging the sheet of ice. His lips twitch upwards a little as he walks, banging his fist against the wall every other step; his efforts bring no more effect than the first blow, however. He reaches a sweeping staircase, curving slightly as it climbs to a mezzanine supported by giant icicles and women carved in ice, and is still not able to see their would-be host. "This is a waste of time," he mutters before thumping on the banister. "Show yourself, cursed cowardly cretin of a cur! If you keep me standing here while you play at being a demon lord, I will bring your pretty little igloo down around your ears, whatever enchantments you keep on it to stop it from crumbling!" Harikoras's voice bounces from the icy walls, coming back shrill and hollow.
A white figure settled at the edges of the frozen wasteland. He frowned slightly and looked around. Suddenly, he spotted a group of people coming from the last of the ash covered bridges. "Ah! Fellow travellers!" he called and walked over to them. He swept a low bow. "Good day! My name is
_Meridian_. I am very pleased to meet you. You too were travelling the bridges? I never noticed! Well, I was busy flying and fighting above them. I saw the strangest thing, you know; a vengence demon
flying! I'm lucky I managed to escape it. Of course, I was already trying to deal with an onslaught of lesser demons, and they were beating me rather badly. I can't imagine
what I could have been doing up
there that would bring them on like that!" The angel's smile was charming and bright. He was dressed all in white and his arms were covered in strange silver tattoos.
Nyssa repressed a childish desire to cover her eyes to the brightness of the newcomer. She wasn't surprised by his arrival. All in all she didn't think it mattered much. He seemed friendly enough. "Welcome, Meridian. I am Nyssa." A slight breeze swept her hood back. If she had cared more she would have been amused by the way Meridian's colour scheme was the exact oposite of her own. She turned to Sheris. "We should walk... It will take me a while to regain enough of my strength to take us to Ara and Harikoras." With that said she walks past Meridian, setting foot on the frozen ground of the ice realm.
Meridian nodded and fell into step with the others. "Nyssa, lovely name. I hope you all don't mind my joining you, perhaps
you fine folk will manage to keep me out of trouble!" His laughter rang like silver bells. "Ah, but it's so good to get out of that mess at last!"
The crossing from the ash covered bridges to the icy wastelands was a sudden one, as all changed from swirling black to white and still. It could be seen as a straight line down the border, neither ash nor snow crossing the line that separated them. The sky above was a foggy white and almost indistinguisha
ble from the white that was beneath their feet.
Sheris observed the arrival of the new face without much reaction. She watched the odd figure as he spoke but otherwise, her concerns lie elsewhere. Sheris sends Nyssa an irritable glance at the mention that they must walk in search of their lost companions, which Nyssa had oh so conveniently wisked away not long before. She falls into step with the others, and as they enter the icerealm her irritation shifts toward determination. Sheris finds her way to the head of the line and trudges on toward the first rise of icy snow.
Nyssa sends an icy glance back at Sheris, mildly annoyed by her companion’s pouting. She had done what was necessary to battle Harikoras’ pending insanity. The only flaw in her plan was that she could not go after them in the same manner, not with the bridges still so close by. She turned back to Meridian. “So tell me, dear Meridian, what brings a creature of your fairness to a place so dark and evil?”
"To bring a bit of light to an otherwise unlit place," he smiled at Nyssa. "I wander with no particular goal in mind, but to know all worlds a little more. And in this time of impending war, what more interesting place to be than here? And you? What drives you and your companions to journey here?" He cocked his head.
Sheris does not look toward the stranger but answers irritably, "We are now searchin' fer two lost companions... Once they are foun', we shall go on wit' our original intentions here... or at least I will." Sheris continues over a rise and spots a tall tower not too far ahead. She stops, thinks for a moment, and then turns to Nyssa.
Meanwhile, as the two companions being sought continue on through the maze of stairs, no answer comes to Harikoras's barking. However, as they continue ahead, the stairs finally open into a long, magnificent hall. Ahead pillars rise and the hall opens to a great room, at the end of which appears to figure in a throne-like setting. The walls are decorated with intricate carvings. Though their beauty is quite impressive, the images themselves are indeed disturbing...
Ara walked towards one of the walls and traced one of the patterns there. She smirked. "Old Spooky mac Mystery here must've had some help from Mosi when he was decorating this glass castle. It's shocking to see how much the evil and insane thing alike." Without a real reason she takes her short pike out of its scabbard and slams it against the wall. It sends an eerie chiming sound through the entire building. Ara smiles. "some music to guide us on our path... I wonder where the strange man went."
Meanwhile, Nyssa stood staring at the palace from the outside. She was aware of Sheris' eyes on her, but she chose to ignore it for the time being. "An ancient evil lurks there." she casually mentioned to Meridian. She turned to look at Sheris. "Then again, that might just be Harikoras' bad temper I feel. Either way, they're inside, and so is Mordred. I suppose you'll want to talk to the demon?" she semi-asked.
In the castle of ice, Harikoras lowers his voice. "You are mistaken, demon, if you think I will wait on your pleasure, or that I make empty threats." He draws his sword and traces the grooves of a carving on the wall, before roaring and smashing his sword into the nearest pillar.
The faint echos of that roar bouncing off the ice, drifted out to the companions. "Hmm, a most interesting place if ever one," mummered Meridian from where he too had paused before the palace. He began wandering towards it, looking about in mild curiosity with a smile on his face.
The figures sitting ahead of Harikoras and Ara do not move despite Harikoras's outburst, nor is the structure shaken by it...
Meanwhile, Sheris approaches the building ahead, her inner senses drawing her toward it even before Nyssa speaks, of course, as the clear alternative is a vast wilderness of ice and snow..... Sheris looks to Nyssa as she speaks and moves forward, her voice calm "Aye, I wish tae speak wit' him... " Sheris's steps gain stength and purpose as she quickly moves toward the castle entrance. She whispers, "Let's get this over wit'..." Her voice than raises, not commanding, but actually the slightest bit sarcastic, "Any warning yae can give us Nyssa? ...Aside from the evil bit..."
After a moment, a disturbing, high pitched but not quite maniacal laughter comes from one of the figures before Harikoras and Ara. "Try as you might, the ice is impenetrable." One of the figures stands slowly from the throne ahead, dressed completely in white, and with a complexion to match. The man gestures to a few chairs sitting in the vastly open and empty room, a table rests beside them, on which sit several silver goblets and an intricate, glass pitcher of what appears to be red wine, "Sit... drink... your friends shall be along shortly."
Harikoras lets the blade ring in his hands while he glares at the man before them. "Friends," he says while a grin fights with a sneer for control of his face, "I hate the word, as I hate you." The blow that bisects one of the cups is so quick it leaves the silver glowing at the edges of the cut, red-hot. "Your ice may be impenetrable, but your silver is not." He swings at the pitcher, catching it with the flat of his blade and sending it flying towards the man in white. Before the pitcher is halfway through its arc through the air, he sits smoothly and lets out a deep breath, calming noticably.
Meridian traces his fingers along the icy walls, a black shadow following his path where a reflection might be. He halts as an image appears and then fades from the icy surface before him. "She has been here...," he murmmers softly. He smils to himself and continues on. He calls to the others; "I think that we are getting nearer to wherever your friends are! I can't tell for sure, but the ice seems to be getting fancier! I am interested to meet this deamon; he has very cool tastes," he chuckles to himself. "This must be a great place for storing cold drinks, hope he has some good ones."
Sheris strides slightly ahead of Meridian, not paying much attention to his comments. She hurries ahead, feeling that her companions are near.
Meanwhile, the man in white smiles slowly as Harikoras goes about his destruction. The pitcher that comes his way stops before reaching the stranger, as if meeting a wall, and falls to the floor, splashing its contents in all directions. The man, however, remains somehow untouched. As Harikoras sits, the man’s gaze turns to the entranceway, three figures appearing from another corridor. “Welcome!” The man says strangely, raising his arms as if he were a grateful host.
Sheris’ hand grips the hilt of her sword as the new scene meets her frigid gaze. She looks toward Harikoras, who is sitting now, and then to the odd man in white. She hesitates only slightly before striding forward once more with purpose. “Where is Mordrid?” she demands, drawing her blade as she nears them.
The man's smile falls slowly, as do his arms. With a discomforting look of disappointment, the man turns from his position and begins to walk slowly toward an exit behind him. The other figure present remains rigidly seated and staring forward, as if she were merely a piece of art decorating the room. However, to the watchful eye, her body wavers slightly... she is very much alive.
Sheris comes forward, ignoring the woman and coming to stand beside Harikoras. She watches him shortly with and unreadable expression, then turns her gaze to the exit through which the man in white disappears.
"How pleasant to see you, child," Harikoras mutters sidelong at Sheris, "you have such good taste in friends." He picks up the greater part of the cup he clove in two. "Our gracious host seems to have run low on refreshments, and likes playing silly little waiting games. You will have to thirst a little longer." He gets to his feet again and walks to the puddle of red liquid by the throne, his sword held low and his eyes locked on the woman. "Don't move on my account," he growls, and without taking his eyes off her he draws in the puddle with the point of his sword. The liquid shimmers slightly, taking a second longer than it should to flow back into the sword's path, leaving the image of a rune visible for a moment. Harikoras grins. "Your master is a cautious demon. Oh hell, how I have missed thee."
Not more than a few moments later, footsteps are heard coming from a corridor nearby, to the companions’ side. Some jovial whistling approaches with whoever may be coming. A darkly clad figure soon appears in the doorway and walks straight into the room. As the man looks to the small group, he puts up his arms and grins as he continues moving forward. “Guests? Guests! Finally something happens in this place.” The man looks overall quite scruffy and unkempt. There isn’t anything especially evil looking about him, but his appearance is on the disturbing side. Dark, straggly hair falls about his pale features to about shoulder length. He is adorned in tattered travel clothes and a belt and sword are at his waist. He looks to the group though eyes that are almost black. He stature is average and his step carefree. The man comes toward the guests, but side passes them toward the woman on the throne. He comes closely up to her, placing each hand on an arm of her chair and looking her in the face with a squint. He then turns back to the others. “Quite perty ain’t she, but not enough life in her for me.” He grins wickedly and skips a step over to the other throne, which he throws himself into. “Ah, so… what brings you all to this corner of hell?” His sarcastic grin remains on his features, as he looks around uncaringly from face to face, looking for some word from them.
Sheris watches the man come into the room and is silent as he traipse around before he finally sits in the chair, looking to them. Her expression is blank; after a short pause, she demands more than asks, “Where’s Mordred?”
Meridian cocks his head at the proceedings, like a puppy that's heard what been said but isn't sure what to make of it, then sits down in one of the empty chairs. "Thank you for your gracious welcome, dear host. Since you wnat to know, I personally came over here because it took my fancy! I have developed a couple of questions though, such as 'Who's Mordrid?' and 'Who's that other guy in white?', but I think the most important one is 'Do you have anymore drinks?'. It seems," Meridian eyed the spilled liquid dolefully, "that there was some grievous accident with the first batch."
Continue on to The Edge
Stumble!