The Staff of Aaron

Chapter 4: The Rescue

-KANTAZSIA-

After plummeting forty feet, I landed unceremoniously in a weeping fern—in full thorn bloom. I rolled off with a groan. Pain flared in my thighs, and I gingerly rummaged around my rucksack. My flask had survived the fall.

"Who says miracles don't exist down here?" I sloshed the vitriolic whiskey around my mouth. Grimacing, I dug in my bag until I found it: a withered, charred staff. Broken into three pieces. Hey, I'd had to fit it in somehow, and the stupid thing had burned me so often that it had been an easy decision to make.

I tossed the staff to the ground. The blackened crystals lay flat and unmoving, like unimpressive kindling. No one would have guessed that a half-cycle ago, those shards had formed a holy artifact: Ishmael's staff, which had been able to shoot hellfire, turn into three pissy snakes, and blossom to produce "nuts," of all things—Ishmael's favorite food? Then Demon Lord Belladonna, my psychotic sister, had burned it to a crisp along with any hope of ever leaving this infernal pit.

The tattoo of the Dragon prickled uncomfortably on my back, reminding me of the Darkness's inescapable presence. I fought the urge to scratch. Hey, I could still honor the Darkness somewhere else. Purgatory could be a start.

"What are you waiting for?" I threw up my hands at the broken staff. "Yes, I'm a demon, but I brought you here to find your master. You remember Ishmael? Short, skinny dude with black curls? Big mouth? Tries to act more clever than he really is?"

It grew harder to speak with each breath. I sank down against the sandstone wall, my heart expanding so rapidly that there was no room left to think. Damn, I just couldn't survive forty foot drops like I used to.

In the fading light, the emerald crystals remained dull and murky, as if they wanted to sink into the earth and disappear forever.

"You must be joking. This is your plan to find Ishmael?"

The barrel of my pistol was pressed against her forehead before she could finish her sneer. To her credit, Riley Cyprus didn't flinch. The human had possibly grown even more morose since being condemned to Hell a little over a cycle ago. Her brown hair was bound in a constricted bun, her gray eyes were dark and permanently accusatory, and she was heavily armed with a bow as well as a pair of tomahawks—one of which was currently pressed against my gut.

I smiled. "In my experience, those who prefer blades over guns are dishonest, sneaky little backstabbers."

Her eyes flashed. "In mine, those who prefer guns lack the tactical intelligence to learn the blade."

One day, Kantazsia, you will blow a hole through this uppity human's "tactical intelligence" and we'll see how much is really there, I self-soothed. The image was pleasing, and I withdrew the pistol.

"Glad you could take a break from being Lucifer's pet." I rubbed the crystal shards together, hoping they might spark like firewood. "How are the Sun Saints liking Acheron? With the rate the Fallen of Pride's army is growing, eventually even Acheron will begin to feel"—my eyes sidled sideways—"too small."

Riley sighed. "You know I cannot speak of the plans for expansion to a solider of the Host of Hell. We are playing a dangerous game. If either of us gets taken prisoner by the other side, then they will dig up the truth. If anyone learns of our real mission..."

"We'll join Ishmael down here for company." I took another swig. "Or worse. Most likely worse."

"I'm glad we understand each other for once." Riley inspected the broken staff. "Let's just hope Xercist's information is true and he isn't playing us all."

I pinched my nose as a wave of pain assailed my temples. "Another thing we both agree on: never trust a tempter."

"Are you all right?" Riley asked.

I scowled. "It reeks of human down here. The sooner I'm away from your kind, the better."

Riley rolled her eyes but got down to business. She tossed me a mask from her pack and then the climbing gear. I set about tying ropes for our descent.

"Sun Saints." I touched the faded star emblem on our disguises and grinned. "Nice touch."

Riley looked over her shoulder. "This side of the wall is unusually quiet. I would have thought we'd have company by now."

I gazed across the crater. Barely discernable beyond the scarlet haze was a vertical face that writhed as if made of steam. However, those were bodies that made the cliff dance.

"The tempter's research showed that the southern end of the Azgulth is where the rock is the most stable. We're on the northern face, which the condemned avoid because of the numerous tunnels in the cliffs. Avalanches are common here."

Riley gulped. Good. Better the girl afraid enough to piss herself than dead man walking.

I continued: "Of course, newcomers like Ishmael wouldn't know that. From the reports I accessed, Ishmael was thrown in somewhere around Access Point IV and V." I pointed toward the guard towers above. "Now, he could have climbed up to the Carnage Crags for the best advantage, where the fighting is fiercest. But—"

"Ishmael wouldn't go picking a fight," Riley said quietly. "He would seek somewhere he could find solace. A place to think up his next move."

I tied the last knot and tested it. This rope was military grade, courtesy of the Host of Hell. The damned condemned better not mess with it. My unit knew I liked my feet firmly planted on the ground and ideally encased by my favorite Poison Ivy tank. They would grow suspicious if I kept "rock climbing" in Echo Spire every rest day.

"Yup. Sounds like just the type of cowardly move he would make." Ignoring Riley's scowl, I picked up a piece of the ruined staff. "Useless. Xercist's theory of Soul Magnetism failed as usual." I raised the shard, of half a mind to see if I could hit a condemned through the smog, but Riley raised a hand.

"Look."

I faltered, glancing down. There, beating like the heart of a dying star, were two green mambas. They writhed on the ground, their poisonous eyes fixed on my raised hand. Which now held a third snake.

I released the creature, shaken. The three serpents raced toward one another eagerly. Over and under they crawled, and yet they could not become whole again.

I crouched, awed. "Go on. You know who has the power to restore you."

Just like that, the snakes slithered off the ledge. I shared a half-grin with Riley and then positioned myself on the rope. "I've always wanted to see how deep this shithole goes."