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Hell's Songbird - 3
🕑 Added 2021-09-18 19:01:36 +0000 UTC“Lieutenant Ilya, this is your new assistant, Third Lieutenant Isaac. As Co-ordinator Makaro is generously providing you a subordinate, she expects you’ll more than double your kills over the next year. Please ensure Lieutenant Isaac receives a full tour, ensure you include all major Portals between Hell and the Abyss,” Oragō states. Her tone is so bland, yet her chords make the surrounding air purr with her joy.
When one nuzzles across my nose, its tickling makes me snort, and Ilya gives me a bleak stare. Her gaze only flickers over me before Oragō receives a hate filled look.
“She doesn’t have a field pack,” growls Ilya, the promise of pain growing strong enough to gouge the air with sheer menace.
“Isaac doesn’t need one, no need for resupplies,” Oragō retorts, presenting Ilya a sheaf of paperwork. “She has her sword and daggers, now sign receipt of her duty orders placing her in your command.”
“What do you mean?” growls Ilya suspiciously.
“You two can discuss the matter once I have my paperwork signed off,” Oragō snaps and thrusts them practically into Ilya’s face. The smug notes from her crash abrasively upon my senses, the spike of hate painful against my ears.
“Should I sign it in your blood Captain?” queries Ilya, putting a hand to her dagger’s hilt. I suddenly see notes ringing around her, glowing with the look of polished silver, as her energy chimes outwards.
“She’s only a Lieutenant,” I say, and tilt my head as I enjoy the jubilant melody that comes pouring forth.
“The order comes from Co-ordinator Makaro,” Oragō snaps, her glare matching the harsh notes screaming around her. “Do you wish to argue with her?”
Ilya snarls even as she snatches the sheaf of papers from Oragō’s hand, and stalks towards the service desk. Motioning for a Medusa to pass her a quill, she signs them with angry motions before returning them to Oragō’s waiting hand.
“Come along, Mádhu, let’s get started,” Ilya says, as she starts away.
It’s not my name, but I can hear the music giggling again, all happy and free. The word meant sweet or honey, and while I wasn’t sure how I knew that, it amused me all the same.
[Tongues (10->11)]
“She has a memory crystal you might want,” I call, and watch her reappear beside Oragō.
“What memory crystal?” asks Ilya, and I feel the wings on my back flex as I shrug.
“Something about an imprint?”
The words bring forth a smile that lights up Ilya’s face. The silver notes about her dance become scalpel blades reflecting rays of sunlight.
“Give me the crystal, Lieutenant,” Ilya demands. The other Erinys’ music, a deafening crescendo of savage notes, clawing their way towards me, makes me wonder what trouble I’ve found.
“May Pale Night seize you both,” Oragō says, throwing the crystal deliberately away only for it to float towards Ilya’s hand. Lofty drifting notes swirl about the three of us till it settles on her palm.
After a moment spent considering it, she tucks it away and heads towards the door, motioning for me to follow. The music from her turning wary and solemn, deeper and slower by the beat.
“Fallen, really, with an imprint like that? We have a lot of work ahead,” Ilya groans before she tosses me a grin.
Soaring violins spring to life, and the notes jig as Ilya pushes open the door.
* * *
There is no queue at the Gates of Hell, nor are they marked by burning pillars of flame. They are, however, house-sized gates that might deter door-to-door salespeople. They sit well back from the Portal that looks like a pool, fully open to let all the troops we’re with depart in orderly lines. Here I am leaving without a passport or even an Opal card. Will there be a ticket inspector and a fine involved? A moment of macabre humour draws a giggle about there being ‘hell-to-pay’, but Ilya doesn’t even look back.
I take an irrevocable step as I follow her into a greyish pool, and it doesn’t even feel wet. Like others who’ve stepped further in, she vanishes. Taking a step, I’m suddenly right behind her again. In that instant, the music about me changes, an almost complete shift of composers, yet still playing with masterful skill. Even notes that are so wrong they should strip my nerves raw ring clear. Whether beautiful or vicious, they call out and buzz about me, drawing at my attention amid the din.
We had walked into a pool and out of a mountain lake, the land around covered in sullen snow that hisses menacingly against the ground steaming underfoot. A vent nearby lets loose a gurgling whistle as those exiting slush water over the lake’s edge. Before me, a mountain pass that looks brutally hacked out of the sad stone here descends towards a massive wall with grey hills visible beyond.
“Welcome to Hades, the first stop on our full tour. Step quickly from the gate’s threshold,” Ilya says, walking ahead of me. She doesn’t even look back; between one step and the next taking to the air. This time I don’t flap my wings, but just will myself to follow. I expect to be left struggling in her wake, but she doesn’t race away, merely setting a quick walking pace.
“At least you don’t fly as fast as Oragō,” I mutter and hear Ilya’s laughter as we fly above ranks of armoured soldiers marching along the pass. The base of the pass is kilometres away, blocked by a black wall — rising higher than the harbour bridge’s peak. A murmur of wailing violins rises to greet us and grows only louder as we fly onwards.
The air tastes like a funeral parlour with the crematory door left open: death, incense, and ash. Heated notes scald my ears as ash bleeds across my tongue and shrill screams compete with someone’s giggling amusement. We’re not even at the wall, yet the sound of a death metal concert starts up, bellows, roars, and a throbbing, heavy base.
[Flight [B](4->5)
Fly [B](3->4)]
“Seriously, what is the difference between you two?”
I only realise I’ve spoken aloud when Ilya changes direction and shows off flying backwards.
“Oragō is a kiss-arse bitch, and I’m an outlier as far as Hell’s hierarchy goes. Isn’t that obvious?” Ilya asks with a smirk.
“Not what I meant, but why are you an outlier? Why does Makaro need to set you up for a hearing?”
“She sent you to me for that, did she? We will have to get you trained. Are you such a naïve innocent? She wants me gone, but she can’t do so without a valid reason. She believes I could have prevented a favoured lackey from getting ripped apart by Demons,” Ilya says, as her expression grows mournful, yet her notes sound gleeful. “Things happen on the battlefield, and without proof, she’s stuck with me. So she expects you to die in combat and it will give her due cause for a hearing.”
“Oragō didn’t give you her entire message,” I warn, struck by the silver notes from Ilya compared to the harshness of other Devils.
“Why am I not surprised? You’re being helpful Isaac, what’s your play in this?”
The question comes my way even as Ilya spins in mid-air again.
“Not getting destroyed or sent to the mailroom,” I honestly answer.
The first two reasons that came to mind earn a smile.
“The mailroom. I worked there for two centuries when I first came to Hell. It keeps you on your toes,” Ilya retorts with a shudder that makes her wings beat off balance a moment. “Never take a sealed package anywhere if it’s big enough to hold something’s head.”
“Do you hear music as well?”
The question jumps from my lips, and I press them shut, aware of the wince I show.
“Music?” Ilya asks, her tone as puzzled as I feel.
“Notes, riffs, complete songs from people and places?”
My explanation makes the notes from her jangle about—a sudden confusion of sound.
“No, never. Perhaps Hell’s broken your mind,” offers Ilya with a wry smile, and I wonder how she arrived in Hell.
“Or perhaps my mind broke and nothing is actually here.”
My reply earns a slow blink before she turns and flies towards a ridge. As I quickly try to adjust my course, I see a message.
[Fly [B](4->5)]
“That would be nice.”
Ilya’s murmur distracts me from the message and her silver notes resonate in agreement with every word. The notes are such a captivating sound. I close my eyes a moment to enjoy them when a sudden movement of air causes me to flinch. Hard feathers smack across my face and shove me back. My attention disrupted from wanting to be airborne, I fall and find myself in knee-deep snow. Staggering as I go arse over turkey across my wings, pain surges through my back as I feel something crack. Ilya gives an exasperated snort as I untangle myself, and when I make it to my feet, she’s looking at me with a critical expression on her face.
“What are you doing?”
“You expect me to know? I’m clueless here.”
I wave my hands towards the surrounding lands. With her expression and souring notes, I’ve grave doubts she took it that way.
“I could tell from your imprint, I thought it another of Hell’s deceptions. Now I’m uncertain. No Devil is this good at faking incompetence, they’re all too full of pride to lower themselves.”
Ilya’s words are harsh, notes surround her ring of silver, but they’ve lost all the warmth they held.
“I don’t even know how I ended up here. I was answering the door, felt all flushed, and wanted to hurl. Then there was darkness and singing stones. There were flames. Next thing I remember I was in a prison cell with chains falling off me and a growling thing throwing open the door.”
“Regardless of how you got here, you’re here now and my responsibility,” Ilya declares, her intensity mirrored in the notes gushing from her.
“They do expect your assignment will get me killed. Makaro told Oragō to schedule the disciplinary hearing for a year afterwards, so you won’t expect it.”
The more I say, the more the notes around Ilya giggle, as mine had in the cell. I glance away and watch a note borrowing into the snow, sending a trickle of it slithering towards the pass.
“They protected your mind, and you expect me to believe you’re telling me the truth?” snorts Ilya, amusement dying as she speaks.
“My mind is what now?” I ask, my surprise complete.
“I can’t read your thoughts, and there is nothing on this imprint that explains it.” state Ilya, gesturing at the pouch where she tucked the crystal.
“You can do what now?” even as I speak, I wonder how deep this rabbit hole is going to go.
My puzzlement is clear, and Ilya’s gaze narrows with echoing suspicion.
“I should be able to hear your thoughts, but I can’t hear yours,” declares Ilya, as her riffs growl along the mountain ridge.
“How?”
“It’s a Power all Erinys possess, and it’s on your imprint. It’s simply called Telepathy.” Ilya state, her frown unrelenting.
“I’ve not even seen my imprint.” I grumble, throwing my hands up in frustration.
“What?!” exclaims Ilya, and I’m happy I’m not the only one confused.
“Oragō slapped my hand on an orb, and then touched it, got all offended and teleported us to a corridor and dragged me into Makaro’s office. They complained about my imprint and me being a Fallen, but neither explained—nor showed me—anything.”
“Your imprint is pathetic for a Fallen,” Ilya states as her notes hiss against the air with heated rage.
“I was human, not whatever you’re talking about. I was home, then I ended up here.”
“That’s not what your imprint says,” Ilya barks, tossing me the crystal.
Without even thinking, I snatch for it quicker than I remember being. It bounces off one hand, but I catch it before it can vanish into the snow.
“How am I supposed to see into it, or whatever you were doing?” I ask, not wanting to hold it up in case I drop it. The crystal is as clear as ice, and I’m afraid it would vanish—never to be seen again—if I drop it.
“Just think about seeing inside it. The memory will show itself to you,” instructs Ilya. Her tone calming as I glance between her and my hand, still uncertain about where to start.
Cupping my palm, I look at the source of her angst, and imagine seeing light through an old fashioned negative. As easy as that, I see a screen, and its information mingles with a song before the memories hit and drop me into them.
* * *
Warm kisses steal the tears from my eyes, and I cuddle close, seeking sanctuary against the pain that’s trying to drown me.
“We should reschedule,” David says, and I flinch against him.
Even the suggestion brings up so much more hurt—not because of any delay—but for the reason.
“No, J wouldn’t want that,” I hear the sadness in my words, echoed by the sadness in his eyes as he caresses my face.
“It’s not just Julia, it’s Andre and everything that you’ve found out. I want you to have a happy day, not be fighting sorrow.”
“We won’t get our deposits back,” I warn, and the look I get makes it clear he knows he’s already won the argument.
“Oh, I’ll be heartbroken, sweet,” David murmurs into my hair and pulls me close. The feel of him eases the pain. “That doesn’t bother me, it’s not like you’ve gone crazy on expensive stuff for the wedding. Mum’s almost offended by your budget conscious attitude.”
“The suits,” I want to list other things, but he cheats and stops me with a kiss, yet I feel guilty at the happy sigh his touch causes.
“Minor details,” David says, as his fingers stroke my spine and make me groan. “Come live at my place. We’ll see about breaking your lease. I don’t feel being here is helping you grieve.”
“You’re likely right, it just seems like giving away one of my last connections to her.”
“I don’t think that connection will fade wherever you live, little songbird,” David says with a smile, arms holding me tight for a moment.
“Chirp, chirp, barf.”
I roll my eyes at him as I retort, but I’m not sure he sees my expression as he responds.
“Yuck, I’m not cleaning that up,” David laughs, and slides away, but goes serious as his feet hit the ground. “I’ve got to head off, but I’ll grab dinner on the way home tonight. Will you be at my place, or should I bring it here?”
“Call me later. I’ll decide before you have to leave your uncle’s place,” I reply, and he interrupts sad thoughts by leaning in to give me a lingering kiss. “You keep doing that and you’re not getting out of here on time. J’s family is coming over later to get the last of her things.”
He gets clothes from his drawer, and I drift off again, listening to the shower start and relax into the pillow. A lazy wiggle moves me closer to his side and I inhale his lingering scent and warmth. The nightmares have done my head in, and I’ll take whatever comfort I can get. I don’t know why I dreamt of singing open wounds in CBD sized Dragons—while a crystal city melted—but it had drawn screams from me that had even scared David.
An annoying bee wakes me from a dream. I go to put the fragments in my dream diary when the door’s buzzer sounds, and I realise what woke me up. Flipping over my phone has me swearing when I see how long I’ve slept in. Sure enough, the sight of Sally through the intercom screen makes me groan.
“Hey guys, sorry I was,” I say as I hit the button to unlock the door, even as my stomach rebels and the room swims. “ugh, I don’t feel good. Oh.”
The mirror by the door shows me clearly before it changes. My skin going white beckons for attention, but it’s my pupils shining with flames that draw forth the scream.
Suddenly there is darkness surrounding me, clutching and suffocating, despite having no urge to breathe. Strange messages in my head batter my awareness, and my mind spins around them; I give heed only to the first two as I scream soundlessly for help.
Achievement Unlocked
Damned. - (Just that, Damned. By someone, or something, with significant power. Not that knowing who is responsible would help you now.)
[Race Changed: See ‘Profile’ for outcome]
Believer. - (Strong conviction in the supernatural and unexplainable connection of Souls)
[Bonus Powers determined by original life
Initial Faith: + 5]
The rest of them echo like spikes in my brain, and music throbs its way through my bones. My dark prison breaks open and my scream echoes within the sudden ringing of a hammer’s strike, as it trembles through me. The sound returns to me off hard surfaces in nearly all directions, and I scream louder still. A riptide of sound shivers over and away from me, as cold and darkness sink hooks into my bones. I’m not even sure if I’ve drawn breath as I scream-sing the notes bursting from the hammer’s strike. One moment there is cold stone underfoot and the next I’m falling through an angry sky screaming with fire and dismay twists my stomach.
A majestic orchestral soundtrack rings through my mind as I try the Profile the messages mention, grasping for a way to survive. The song is beautiful and seems to make time stop, but I push the temptation away and I stop listening, seeking someway to survive the fall. I thrash about, seeking to get into a skydiving arch, but my body hits invisible walls. I’m still trying to get some sort of purchase on them as the slide in this Temple of Doom takes me straight into the fiery river.
Memory transposes on the imprint showing itself in my mind, the pieces of the music echoing stronger. Focusing on the words in my awareness, pieces of the orchestra’s wax and wane as I move between each one. The Devastation Bow listed in my possessions rings hollow and shrill.
“What is that?”
I gasp the words out, reeling from what I’ve seen again, and Ilya just looks at me in clear disbelief.
“It’s your imprint.”
Ilya speaks slowly as if I’m a sandwich short of a picnic, and I’m sure she’s right—maybe even a few sandwiches.
“This makes no sense,” I mutter, trying to understand what I’m seeing
“You make no sense,” Ilya growls, though merry notes run counter to her annoyance.
“What is a Class slot for?” I ask in my continuing confusion, knowing it sounds like the game stuff J used to love.
“Something you have absolutely none of,” grumbles Ilya.
“Except Erinys,” I state defensively, and it’s Ilya’s turn to roll her eyes.
“They determine what Skills and powers you have to fight your foes and get stronger.”
“Fight?” I ask, blinking at her, even as my brain reminds me of all the troops below, making me groan and facepalm.
“Yes, fight,” Ilya declares, and glares as I gulp. “What are you going to do, giggle Demons to death?”
“Is that an option?” I ask, wanting to wince at the sarcasm filling my words.
“No!” exclaims Ilya. The volume of her shout makes the packed snow higher up tremble.
“Legends say you can banish some supernatural creatures via what can seem to be odd means.” I say defensively, not sure why she’d taken me seriously. As snow drops from my wings and slithers down my spine, I cross my arms and fight back a shiver from its cold.
“That’s beside the point, they do not include such things in invasion forces.” retorts Ilya, her silver notes turning as cold as her glare.
The mention of invasion forces makes me blink, and I remember Oragō’s rant about the Blood Wars.
“Fine, I take the point. What classes do you have?” I ask, hoping I can get this to make sense.
“Four: Archer, Fighter, Scout, Wizard,” Ilya replies, and gestures towards a rock. “Sit and look within. You should see or feel something about what classes you can gain. If you can’t, we’ll have to risk some initial strikes with you only as Erinys.”
“What chance do I have of surviving without ever taking a Class?” I ask innocently, but Ilya’s laughter rings with scornful disbelief.
“Are you seeking deliberate destruction?” Ilya asks, and then sighs. “It would be difficult but not impossible if you were among others on the front.”
Her choice of words reminds me of the message from the warehouse’s queue, and prompted by the Dragon dream, I pick Glinnel. Beautiful notes pulse as lively as one of Beethoven’s bagatelle. The quick notes are light-hearted, rejoicing and welcoming, yet my mind somehow translates meaning from them beyond their beauty.
Glinnel Class Selected
[
Powers unlocked at level one:
- Resonance (Power already unlocked, increases applied)
- True Song (Power already unlocked, increases applied)
Power Increases:
- Resonance (15) -> Resonance [B] (5)
- True Song (5) -> True Song [B] (1)
Skills unlocked at level one:
- Singing
- Duet
Attribute Adjustments:
+1 Intelligence per Level
+1 Willpower per Level
+4 Free Attribute Points every four levels post level 22
+1 Melee Attack Power per two levels
+1 Defence per Level
+2 Magic per Level
Presentation of Class due to Hidden State: Spell Singer
]
Not sure why but I hum the notes that went with the True Song’s references, and a quick chorus echoes within me, converted to words by Mr Message.
[True Song:
A Power granted to Anar and Lómë Souls when the Titan created them. It allows possessors to tap into the fundamental forces of reality, restructuring them in ways others require Mana to achieve. The greater the user’s skill the more extensive the effects achievable, though the greatest works require Choruses, under the direction of a skilled conductor.]
(Resonance [B](6->7))
[Resonance
This perception Power allows the possessor to hear the foundation of individuals, emotions, places, and objects. Interaction with these perceived notes with True Song can influence reality in numerous ways depending on the Song used. As this Power more details can be learned with greater clarity and range. Environment conditions that prevent the transmission of sound don’t impact this power.]
[Duet
This Skill allows an individual to work in co-ordination with another individual. While normally used by musicians, it can also be applied to other fields and allows an awareness of moments to gain increases in effective collaboration. ]
[Resonance [B](7->8)
Sitting on the boulder she’d directed me to I consider options, and thinking of my bow, I try the same for Archer. It only takes a moment before Mr Message turns another beautiful piece of music into a blurted mess in my mind.
Archer Class Selected
[
Power unlocked at level one:
- Snipe
Skills unlocked at level one:
- Perception
- Balance
- Focus
- Bow Skill (Recurve Bow Skill already unlocked, increases applied)
Skill Increase:
Recurve Bow [Ap](1->11)
Attribute Adjustments:
+1 Quickness
+4 Free Attribute Points every four levels post level 22
+2 Ranged Attack Power per Level
+1 Melee Attack Power every two levels
+1 Defence every four levels]
[Snipe:
This power allows an Archer to focus on a single target and if undetected, any hit on that target will apply a critical damage multiplier. If the attack using this Power strikes another target or is blocked, it does half base damage only.]
I’m not sure what else to take, but with the awkwardness at handling the sword they’d supplied I opt for Fighter next.
Fighter Class Selected
[Select primary focus of Class:
- Melee
- Ranged
- Siege
- Unarmed]
Hello? I need to know how to use my sword.
Melee Selected
[Select attribute focus for Class:
- Strength
- Quickness
- Endurance]
I close my eyes to consider the notes that washed through me before I make my choice. Its chords are a deep solid base matching the word.
Endurance selected
[
Power unlocked at level one:
- Defender
Skills unlocked at level one:
- Melee Skill found (Long Blade and Short Blade unlocked, increases applied)
- Melee Skill selection available (x2)
Skill Increase:
Long Blade (1->11)
Short Blade (1->11)
Attribute Adjustments:
+1 Endurance
+4 Free Attribute Points every four levels post level 22
+1 Melee Attack Power per Level (Additional synergy effect will apply due to equipment and related skills)
+1 Defence per Level (Additional synergy effect will apply due to equipment and related skills)
]
[Defender:
This Power increases the defensive capability of the possessor when they focus purely on defending themselves or others. All equipment bonuses double in effectiveness, and current Melee Attack Power increases possessor’s Defence rating.]
Classes.
The notes hummed from the contemplation of my profile trigger a list in return.
[Gambler
Singer
Town Crier
Priest
Hunter
]
Priest:
[Divine Caster that can channel the power of Gods or Concepts into reality and focus on the service of their Patron. They also possess physical capabilities to survive delivering the message of their Patron to places where the inhabitants might not appreciate it.]
[Resonance [B](8->9)]
“It’s not offering me Scout,” I advised
“Take anything to make hunting and killings Demons easier than.” Ilya says flatly, having tuned her gaze down towards the troops in the pass.
The notes of the Hunter had carried a sharp, bitter bloodlust and it makes me wrinkle my nose even considering it. I wasn’t sure why someone who would bring in food for people would carry that sort of tone, but I’ll pass on that.
Somehow, I doubt the first three will help in fighting Demons unless I could literally skin them at cards? If it could do that though, I might as well have taken Hunter, barf.
Priest Class Selected
[Please select Source of Blessings
- Concept
- Elven Pantheon
- Infernal Power
]
Third option hard-pass, second option guess I should have listened to J’s gaming stuff, concept it is then.
[Concept options:
- Chaos
- Evil
- Law
- Order
- Other?
]
Blah, I don’t like those, what’s Other?
[Other options:
- Luck
- Music
- Vengeance
- Other?]
OH! Dad always said it never hurts to be lucky.
Luck.
[Choose Primary Stat for Class levels:
- Intelligence
- Willpower
- Charisma
]
As I’m already getting two of those from Glinnel, I choose Charisma even if I already look prettier than I had in life.
[Faith - Concept: Luck Selected!
Primary Stat: Charisma Selected!
[
Powers unlocked at level one:
- Conviction
- Blind Luck
Skills unlocked at level one:
- Channelling
- Religion
- Profession (Gambling)
Attribute Adjustments:
+1 Charisma
+4 Free Attribute Points every four levels post level 22
+1 Melee Attack Power per two Levels
+1 Defence per Level
]
“All done.”
I state not exactly sure how long that took, but her glance isn’t impatient, and the surrounding notes are almost tranquil.
“What did you take?” Ilya asks, and her music sounds both curious and wary.
I remember the note in the class message when I find infernal doesn’t have a word that matches it.
“Spell Singer, Archer, Fighter, and Priest.” I say, and Ilya’s wince is disappointing.
“You’re a Priest. What Dark Power are you going to do the bidding of out there?”
“Dark Power? No thanks. I went for the concept of Luck.”
As I explain, Ilya looks like someone just smacked her in the face with a fish.
“Luck!”
The one word is all she blurts out in pure surprise, looking at me wide-eyed and I smile at her silence.
“My other Class options: I didn’t like or wouldn’t help hunting Demons.” I reply brightly and feel my smile broadening as her silver notes just spin as bright as a carousel’s theme.
