A Heart's Crucible

The six pesky Dev cavorted in a dizzying circle in a side chamber, annoying Ahriman. They twirled Dying Ember’s sword. Riled and livid, the Dark Lord stretched the claws of his left foot to kick the puny air-headed imps away. Vacuous and witless, however, armed and dangerous. A sharp sword is no plaything. In their manic, hyper volatile uncoordinated spins, they sliced off one of Ahriman’s toe claws with surgical precision. Raising his leg, he grabbed his wound whilst stifling a cry loud enough to alert Remiel. With a laboured breath, he leaned on the damp cavern wall. His eyes closed in pain as he regathered his dishonourable will. He sought to shut off the throbbing ache by sheer resolve.

Ahriman’s eyes followed in disbelief as the playful, self-indulgent Dev spun the blade in their ongoing clowning cavort. This time they sliced the binding net and slashed the sari, although not the Peri’s skin.

The Dark Lord saw the bronze wings squeeze out of the net, uttering a grunt. He remembered dislocating her wing. Yet his eyes fogged in pain. He wished to replay and alter the outcome of the entire day. Blindly he clutched at the Peri, squeezing through the fissure into the main chamber.

He opened his eyes to stare unbelieving as the cadre of Dev lost control of the sword in their frantic, violent play. The blade tossed and spinning through the air loomed lethal. The Dev scattered to the niches of the cavern. Before Ahriman hooked a talon into the Peri’s sari to drag her back, the sword fell between him and his intended victim. He jerked his talons to safety as the curved blade spun and the sprite squeezed away.

∗ ∗ ∗

Meantime, Joq proceeded no further than releasing Perdy and enfolding her in her wings. They hugged tight.

In their embrace, Joq asked, unsure, “And Zel?”

“A hostage! The fiend rolled her through there.”

Perdita pointed to a murky fissure in the lower darkness.

“Let’s help her.”

Arm in arm, they floated to the slab, where Remiel halted. He paused, unsuccessful in finding the rodent demigod’s crevice of skulking.

Joq and Perdy spied Zel stumbling from a crack and whisked to her. They positioned her behind the seraphim.

Jeremiel spoke to Joq, “My silk, please, and you may step out into the nothing, where the finger of God will guide you back to earth. We will resolve here!”

Zel and Perdy fluttered to go.

Joq stated, “Wait.”

She removed the quest pouch from her neck and placed the silk in Jeremiel’s palm.

One by one, she thanked the seraphim for releasing her Peri comrades.

After walking through the broken seal of Mount Kaf, Joq and her friends saw God, finger raised and an extended beam of light. The flaxen Peri’s heart gladdened; she saw the way home.

As only God can do, she beheld a cleansing shower followed by a rainbow. Joq saw her pristine buddies readied for their unique native homes. She marvelled as God healed Zarella’s wing with a spray of holy water. Joq watched as bronze wings flashed glorious, soaring on a light beam. She craved her playmate to emerge at the head-stream of the Ganges and join a crowded, colourful Holi festival.

Joq viewed Perdita; her earasaid restored, her wings tips magnificent in their purplish hues, bolt hare-fast to the ray tips. She pictured her pal, wings soaring above a highland wetland and descending to sniff cotton grass, purple heather, clowberry and cloudberry before she wheeled for Glen Coe.

The Kazakh stalled as she spread her buttery wings. Her butterscotch eyes, unknown, broke the protocols of Heaven. She glanced into the Lord of Host’s eyes as she said, “thank you.”

And in an added breach of the unwritten etiquette of Heaven, she hugged him. A cuddle for the father absent as a sprite child spawned from a sun pitcher plant.

The almighty blessed Joq with the sign of the benediction.

He said with melliferous grace, “I bless you and your groom, Orestes.”

Joq’s ego urged a stall. Insist God overturn the unfair quest cost.

Her conscience tapped; you bear the burden in your sincere tear. The world shaped better if not based on flippant promises never designed for keeping.

Joq cannoned herself upwards on the light stream with speed devoid of happiness. She glided to spread her hands through the tall feathergrass of her beloved steppe — though her heart dived.

“Damn the cost!”

Joq shuddered as her mind’s eye visualised mean quicksilver orbs.

Her world calmed her. She soaked every scent, including the toasted aroma of the earthnut pea. Then she held every close and distant sound. Nearby the ‘pee-wip’ of the lapwings and, more remote, the ‘moos’ of the saiga antelope. Joq willed herself to remember every sight on the compass points. A lynx, an eagle, yurts and lilies. Joq reimagined the savoury treats of Kazakhstan. Crispy discs of fresh flatbread. Fermented camel’s milk and tongue-teasing salted balls of cottage cheese. She flapped and winged with laboured sweeps. Closing off thinking, she veered southwest to Crete.

∗ ∗ ∗

Meanwhile, underneath Mount Kaf, Ahriman focussed on avoiding detection. He wedged through cracks unexplored in his former prison dominion. The infantile Devs were proving useful in their prattle, leading him into the authentic bowels of Kaf.

He suspected God sanctioned Remiel to hunt him. He knew the seraphim proceeded with caution. In the darkness, angels trod with care. Ahriman wished his lair contained nasty traps, basalt stakes, or snake pits. He made a note of future diabolical planning.

Ahriman squeezed through gaps demanding contortionist thin. He stretched his spine. Ouch! His fricking chains snagged. Damn! His groin niggled.

The fissures led to openings or dead-ends. Finally, Ahriman reached a pigeonhole cavity where the Dev squatted in a circle slapping each other’s faces. The demigod mused this brat pack shaped as the crudest vilest spawning yet if they grew!

Ahriman felt the walls for the thinnest of openings; maybe his chains could hew a passage. One hairline crack in dense basalt, useless as a route. He slumped—back to the cavity; his talons rubbed his aching horns. Game-up! His pursuers grunted through tight, wending gaps in the adjacent gloom.

The goody-goody Remiel led the host. The pious, preachy, priggish sod won! Ahriman wilted, resigned to his coup de grâce.

Bugger!

Then total irritation as Remiel’s litany of execution started.

“Holy, holy, holy.”

Though, Hellzapoppin became Ahriman’s new favourite word.

He worshipped how evil used every allocated second while good hesitated. Plus, nothing beats bad-ass support back to the wall.

He marvelled agog as Satan’s spaded tail whipped and wrapped around his ring finger through the hairline crack. Later in Hell, he discovered the lucky link to the abyss, created by God’s warble through the universe. Ahriman sniggered as the six bored Dev spied a darting, careening zip line and hooked onto slick scales for a ride. The wounded demigod of Abandon seamed into the foul boys of Hell—the only spot in the universe where God self-banned.

∗ ∗ ∗

On a sad note, Joq mourned her destiny. Yet she presented happiness when she heard gossip at a pit stop in Rhodes.

Zel rested on a rocky outcrop with Perdita.

“Gorgeous new sari, kitten,” said Joq.

“Thanks, sweetie. Though the pink was a favourite, it held unpleasant memories.”

After a mouthful of honey and almonds and offering Joq the treat, Perdy said,” Sweet pea, visit me in summer. I have repaired my home.”

“Where are you headed?” inquired Zel, eyeing two fisherman casting nets naked to the waist in the low tide.

“Winging it, maybe to Polynesia.”

“Well,” said Perdy, crunching a nut, “The seraphim restored order on earth.”

“What do you mean?” Joq’s ego hoped the angels tossed the seer into hell.

“We met the old angel who inquired with politeness about you. Jerry or Jesse, or similar!”

“Elaborate,” the Peri of the steppe said, thankful for any delay.

“The Lilian maids now roam the Sentinel Islands! And every Dev received a sprinkle of holy wood shaved from the ark of the great flood. The sawdust makes them itch all day, and God culled their evil ways.”

Joq grabbed a handful of nuts. Zel excused herself, hiked her sari and waded into the water beside two stunned but happy fishermen.

“Well, to finish, pet, because I won’t let Zarella flirt alone. If the Dev can net a Peri, they must release us at twilight or dawn. The seraphim heightened the Dev dead fish smell to frustrate their endeavours and give us extra warning. So there! Have fun! Catch you soon!”

Perdy skimmed across the water where she drizzled honey on the fisher boys of Rhodes.

Joq streamlined into the clouds. In flight, she contemplated a cage for eternity. She felt obliged to honour the cost of the quest without dissent. Alone, she trekked through a maze and labyrinth. Each step involved trying to resist her soul shrinking.