A Heart's Crucible
Waiting

Rage is blind, well, in Arachne’s case, peripherally. Joq, assisted by Zel in a deft sidestep, knelt and rolled the spider queen into her woven carpet. The Kazakh’s eyes apologised as they up-ended Orion as waves peaked through the massive mat. Nippy Joq tied off one end, beaten at the other by a super-fast Zel. The carpet convulsed and eddied back and forth across the chamber floor. Arachne attempted to use brute force to break out.

Recovering fast, the hunter rose, his bow at the ready as through the tunnel lumbered black widows.

“The knife, the bracelet, by her throne, move back,” he instructed.

No time for politeness. Orion shunted Joq with a kick to her hindquarters. Then, as Zel grabbed the knife, Joq secured the bracelet to her wrist, where excessive blood seeped.

As she pivoted, Orion’s arrows slew three spiders inside the chamber. She understood their self-entrapment if the hunter slaughtered them in the tunnel. Still, the oncoming brutes emerged. Orion dispatched two more. He retreated to create space and avoid a writhing spider pile blocking the exit. The passageway rumbled, and reinforcements approached. Joq glanced at Orion’s quiver. Several arrows remained.

“Zel, slip the knife into his belt pouch.”

Damn! Joq scanned, holding her excruciating arm. In rolling Arachne, she re-opened her wound.

So close to passing this stage of their quest, yet trapped!

Light-headed as her bandage trickled blood, she slumped giddily atop Arachne’s throne.

Zel returned, tightened the dressing, and held her hand beside the palatial chair as Orion’s last arrow hit with deadly accuracy. The hunter slung his bow and braced himself, knife in hand, for mortal combat. Joq admired the skill and cunning of the hunter because his drop-dead shots piled the spiders, leaving only a narrow tunnel path to his waiting knife. But the distance between his enemies now evaporated.

She noticed one of Arachne’s fangs pierce a hole in her rolled prison. Zel clutched her sari and thumped the arm of the throne. A creaking grating reverberated inside the chamber.

Joq, in a fog of aching pain, stirred enough to scan for the cause. Despite losing blood dripping on the throne stairs, she pointed.

“There, the backdoor behind the altar!”

Orion stabbed the approaching black widow, blocking the passageway. Then, taking a running jump over an expletive-laden Arachne, tangled in her slow and clumsy self-release, the hunter joined them at the throne.

He turned back; his blade extended to kill the spider queen.

Despite her distress, Joq said, “No, a demigod lover or demon allies will track us. We don’t need quest complications or forever watching our backs!”

A pounding pulse circled between her arm and head.

Orion sheathed his knife and nursed Joq in his arms. After easing her over his shoulder, he threw back to Zel, “Follow me.”

Joq grasped Zel’s moan as she attempted to keep up with the hunter’s fast pace, despite carrying her. She wry smiled at Zel behind her. The way out wended longer.

Joq closed her eyes in grim pain. She keeled, glad when Orion paused and eased her to the cavern wall. However, he only motioned Zel to wipe her forehead and tighten the bandage. Joq winced yet gathered why they halted. With determination aided by muscle, the hunter loosened boulders. He blocked the tunnel behind them. In a dusty swoop, he cradled Joq and urged Zel to rally.

In a blur, she glimpsed a chink of distant light bobbing in the hunter’s arms as his head ducked to avoid a stalactite. Near the entrance but not outside, the hunter stopped.

The hunter lowered her as Zel sagged to the clammy passage wall. A quick exchange of relief as no sounds followed. Only the towering dense trees of the Teutoburg forest sprawled ahead.

Without a word, Orion left and scouted the surroundings. Joq’s heart skipped a beat as he disappeared into the trees. Zel gripped her hand. To leave the dangerous forest, they needed the hunter’s guidance. Together, they tapped their fingers until Orion reappeared. Joq saw his furrowed brow.

“Peri, stay safe here; When seen from the outside, the opening looks solid. I will patch Joq and replace a refuge beyond the forest. Zel, I will return later for you.”

The brunette’s wings spread until they hit the passage ceiling.

“I can keep up, or at least try!”

“Oh, it’s not speed,” he said, “and we team well. A Dev, a ghoul, and something unfamiliar in a track wander nearby. Wait!”

The hunter lifted Joq. His quiver contained six new arrows. Joq realised he planned while she and Zel improvised.

“Until I return,” and he leaned and touched Zel’s forearm. Joq reached to pat too, but the effort flared her wound. She consoled herself as Orion stroked her friend’s arm, combining reassurance and a check for any bleeding. The hunter, in bounding steps, jolted Joq on his shoulder into the tree line.

In a daze, she admired his skill. The hunter used every avoidance trick he knew, light steps, muting any hint of rattle. Orion tucked her feathers to avoid creating a downy trail. He stopped; he listened. The hunter picked leaves as a poultice to stem her telltale blood drips but equally to salve. He pounced from boulder to boulder along the stream banks, avoiding imprints in mud or dirt. Finally, he waded into a creek and doubled back.

Approaching dawn, he emerged from the Teutoburg. Joq yawned as he lay her in straw in a disused bell tower of a village church. She completed a restless roll as he left without warning — but perked when he returned carrying a purloined blanket, a flagon of wine and bread. Joq valued his strength as he climbed out the window to fetch her friend. Sweat on her brow, the start of a fever. Her arm throbbed; a rhythmic thrum, Zel.

∗ ∗ ∗

The brunette waited, a tad hungry and thirsty. She only desired Joq safe. The Peri spent an uncomfortable night attempting to clean her sari. Dawn approached, and in the passageway, Zel shivered. When the sun peeked over the high trees, she only craved warmth. The Peri steeled herself. Outside roamed the Dev, ghouls and Orion’s disquieting, something unknown.

A pounding lumbering inside the tunnel disturbed Zel. Loosened grit from the ceiling dusted her wings in the dimness to a sooty grey dullness. Not a Peri colour anywhere, any season. The rumbling in the tunnel cracked her nerve.

The brunette decided to hide in the forest covered in leaves. Orion promised to return, so she stepped through the mirage into the sunlight. Glances of orientation: left boulder-strewn, right a sheer drop, behind and above a vertical flaky cliff face. She pivoted, hopeful safe hiding lay ahead of her, the forest, in a few steps.

She advanced, determined to hide. From above, an unnatural shadow latticed her face as she caught the dead fish smell. With a dodge, she hunched and jagged left. She jolted backwards as her raised right wing tip tangled in a net.

Still clawing onto a boulder, flight dominated her mind. Zel needed to swoop up the cliff face. A crafty quick-witted reverse roll and her wing fluttered free, and she soared straight towards the crag’s peak. Below her, a Dev snarled, cursing, his wings coiled in his net.

Zel knew not to look back; danger has many faces, but only a Cyclops’ vision met her eyes. A one-eyed ghoul’s mace whacked towards her temple. Zel dipped her head but caught a glancing blow on her cheek. Out of control, her wings refused to respond despite sheer willpower as she started to tailspin beside the cliff face. The mace ripped a few other feathers. These descended in a slow, fluid arc and lodged in the tree tops.

A blow dart hit her ankle, and her diving tumbles gathered speed before she blanked out.

∗ ∗ ∗

Gasping Wind, chuffed at his dart’s accuracy, let Beelzebub’s harsh words fly.

“You blithering fool, if this Peri died, I can’t imagine your demise. I’ve seen the doozies of every vile unimaginable smiting.”

The whistling ghoul watched the demon grab the Peri mid-fall by her sari. Thumping to the ground, he dumped her carcass in a leaf litter. The message of his savage comment passed, whether directed at Unbalanced Soul, Kashm or Gasping Wind. In a celebration, Beelzebub and the ghouls swapped bitchy catcalls. Next, they derided the Dev untangling his feet from his net. The demon prince crowed on a rock and threw stones at a bungling Kashm until he grew impatient.

“Away till sunset, to the Lorelei Rock after the fool trusses the sooty Peri.”

Gasping Wind rubbed his chin as Unbalanced Soul aided the Dev in untangling himself. After the sprite lay bound, he watched the sullen one-eye hoist her over his shoulder. Then, led by the prince of Hell, he whistled ‘hurts so good,’ as they scared rabbits, birds and frogs marching and back-slapping through the forest.

∗ ∗ ∗

Returning to the village tower minus Zel, Orion told Joq what he determined at the cave. His words made Joq clutch the blanket to her chin.

“Several black widows in a file disappeared into the cliff face. Their retreat boded poorly for Zel. After the spiders left, I scouted and worked out the story of broken twigs and dislodged rocks. I feared the worst; fangs.”

Joq wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet.

“I read more — the feathers in the trees, Dev tracks, ghoul prints, an unknown presence, and the leaf litter where Zel lay tethered.”

The Kazakh’s heart thumped as she tore the blanket and reached for the flagon.

∗ ∗ ∗

Ahriman pounded his chest at the telltale thump as a trussed bronze Peri hit the dining slab. Unerringly familiar with the thud of a cyan-winged hussy a few days ago. Both bodies farther scattered the counting knuckles of Unbalanced Soul. Crumbling Dust swotted the bones with his cudgel, Thirsty Sea swept his scythe, and Dying Ember used his spikes. They avoided Ahriman, tetchy, anticipating success. Only the kiddish Dev sought his company.

The Dark Lord noticed a boot-licking Dying Ember rearrange the knuckles on the floor. A trite, meaningless celebration at 999. Blah! as Ahriman slapped away the pint-sized Dev clinging to his body. The pesky pygmy infants raced around the number at a dizzy speed.

As a group, they halted, bowed, pointed and fawned.

Then the impish cohort said, “Master.”

Amused, Ahriman sauntered off his throne. His horns lit unprecedented purple — the number from the Dev view, 666, framed hellish.

One pesky Peri to go; he scoffed, “bar none.”

The Dark Lord scooped the wrinkly imps. He played hide and seek around his body with the cagey sly critters who worshipped the Antichrist number.

Then he swiped the Dev aside. Twisting his ring, he stewed. Gasping Wind, the bloody Judas planned for his return to earth. Fack! His life depended on Unbalanced Soul's devotion.

∗ ∗ ∗

Orion grabbed the jug from Joq. She wilted and clutched the blanket. Each piece of this quest resulted in a capture — a sad journey without hope from the undertaking. Still, gracefully, she removed the bracelet from her wrist designed for Merope and pressed the band into the hunter’s palm.

Joq slept wildly, a nightmare of cages. Her fever and anguish joined. Orion delayed his quest for three days after he stitched her arm and changed her poultice. Mopping her forehead, he endeavoured to lift Joq’s spirits, emphasising she possessed the pouch and knew the next stage.

On a Sunday morning, with the prayers of believers wafting up from below, Joq and Orion exchanged farewells.

“Godspeed,” said Orion; “our paths crossed; now they uncross.”

Joq used words never spoken by a Peri, “Godspeed on your quest,” and hugged him.

With a wave, he descended the tower wall. The Peri marvelled as his hair blended into a wheat field. Joq spread her wings and soared from a disused village church tower, hoping to collect a teardrop of true repentance. She pinned her hopes on the ideal location, inside the world’s grandest basilica.