Chapter 131: Going where you're not wanted

They entered the ninth layer of the Pit by means of a swirling portal hidden beyond the Sinister Blockade.

You have entered Layer 9, The Hopeless Tower

Together they passed through, the eight members of Crimson Hydra and Jessica in the Finem Somnia, the Castrum Mortis bringing up the rear. Wings in close formation they entered the endlessly revolving crimson smoke.

To enter a smoky world of sloping plains dotted with menhir’s. The ground was rough and broken up, rising to sharp crests and falling away again, and anything more than a quarter of a mile away was reduced to a dull blue shadow; beyond that, the world was hidden altogether.

Smears of refulgent golden light, egg-yolk yellow and warm orange, rose here and there around the horizon as if betraying false dawns of their own devising; it was as if this plane were surrounded by a dozen or so shifting suns, each smothered in smoke and lost as the clouds closed thick only to appear once more as they parted.

But James’s attention was locked on the central construct that dominated the land before them. Compared to the monumental scale of the Blockade’s walls it was small; a tower, rough hewn from black stone, rising from a wide base to a blocky top encircled by a parapet upon whose flat roof shards of black stone stood. Here and there cracks betrayed a bright, orange interior light, as if the entirety of the tower were freshly cooled magma, and the chinks in the black rock yet revealed the molten core.

There were no windows, no adornments, but a broad portal stood front and center in the tower’s base, a peaked portico arching above it, hellish crimson light spilling forth. Boulders and sloping rock framed this doorway, though despite the light that emanated forth James couldn’t make out what lay within.

No demons.

No guardians.

No signs of life anywhere.

“There’s the tower,” said Yadriel.

Serenity smirked. “Thanks.”

They flew forward slowly, defensive Benedictions up, watching for signs of an ambush, anything that would reveal the peril of this ninth floor.

But all was still but for the shifting curtains of blue smoke that revealed and hid the sulfurous yellow glows along the horizon.

“Looks like we have to go inside,” said Denzel. “Entrance is too small for the mechs, though.”

“What if we just blast the tower apart?” asked Jason. “Like we did with the Hollow Hill?”

“I’m all for not playing by their rules,” agreed James. “Castrum?”

“TARGET ACQUIRED,” boomed the sixty-foot tall mech, and unleashed the full awe of his armaments all at once.

His mounted Vault Cannons blazed, his laser slashed forth, and his plasma gun bathed the obsidian tower in superheated Aeviternum.

The sheer release of power buffeted James, and he felt the Wing rock. But when the Castrum relented and ceased its fire, the tower remained undamaged, the black stone obdurate and flinty.

“Well shit,” said Yadriel.

“What if we all attack at same time?” asked Olaf. “Heavenly Assaults, guns, everything?”

James rubbed at his bearded chin. “We can try, but… sure. On the count of three.”

At the signal they hit the tower with everything they had. Heavenly Assaults braided down from the sky, dozens of them forming an attack broader than the tower itself, while the Castrum, Somnia, and Serenity fired their guns.

The shockwave caused all their Wings to bob and float back, but again, when they were done, the tower stood undamaged. This time however entire chunks of it glowed cherry red, but even as James watched these began to cool.

“My turn,” said Jessica. She bounded forward, lithe and athletic, only to leap and soar through the smoky air. She swung her Divisor blade as she passed it, and the eight-yard long sword slammed into the black stone, causing chips and shards to fly free.

But the blade only sank in a yard, and the Somnia was forced to twist midair and pull it free lest she lose her grip on it altogether.

The mech slid across the rough ground a dozen yards before coming to a stop, facing the tower. Her blade was undamaged, but it had only dealt a gash to the huge tower.

“That was more damage than the rest of us did,” said Jason quietly. “Heck of a sword.”

“Guess we’re not supposed to knock it down.” James grimaced. “Or we’re just not powerful enough to treat it like a kid’s sandcastle. All right. That door’s obvious enough. We’ll go inside.”

“Yippee,” said Serenity.

They flew down and parked the Wings. While the main entrance was large enough for them to fly through, they saw that the hall within split into narrow side corridors. No flying the Wings around in there.

“Keep close,” said James as they bunched up. “Stay in the Protective Circle. If things get hairy I’ll teleport us out.”

Their eight Circles of Power formed about them, revolving as before, and Angelic Armor and Aureate Bucklers manifested. Jelly flew just beside his shoulder, sword-arms slowly revolving. With guns and axes raised they strode forward, listening and watching intently.

But nothing moved.

The entrance was as crude as it was massive. Huge stone columns held up the portico’s slanting beams. Despite the crimson light the air was frigid; James stared into the stark entrance hall but saw no fireplace, no lanterns, no source for the illumination.

“Ready?” he asked.

Nods all around.

James stepped over the threshold and found himself immediately alone but for Jelly. He wheeled around but his companions were gone. He no longer stood in the entrance hall, but rather a black stone hallway, tall and roughly hewn. Everything was illuminated by a gray, hazy light, the same indistinct dawn glow the precedes the sun.

“Serenity?” His voice echoed off the walls. “Jason?!”

“Anybody?” called Jelly. “Help! We’re all going to die!”

Nothing.

James took a deep breath and willed himself to grow calm. Was this an illusion? He activated Dispel Illusion but nothing changed.

We must have been teleported, said Jelly. The walls look like part of the tower. Want me to go ahead and explore?

“No, let’s stick together. Maybe everyone was scattered inside the tower when we stepped inside?”

Possible.

Silence. With a final scowl James grasped his bronze skeggox axe and peered ahead. The hallway ran for a whiles before ending in a T-junction. James jogged up to it and peered around the corner, Jelly right behind him.

More empty corridors. The left seemed to be slightly shorter than the right.

James listened again.

Nothing.

“Damn quiet,” he said.

Like a tomb. Or a mausoleum. Or a crypt. Or -

“Thanks, I got the picture.”

He ran down the left which turned abruptly, then climbed a set of tall steps to a landing with three archways. He chose the central tunnel, followed that through a series of random turns, then descended a stairwell to a small room.

For a moment his hopes grew, but then he frowned. Two archways on opposite walls led off into the gloom, while a second staircase ran upside down up the wall to a third arch.

“This place is messed up. You think it all fits inside the tower?”

I don’t think so. Unless they messed with dimensional constants. Maybe we shrank down to the size of ants, and there are miles of labyrinth contained within the tower.

“Nice, very comforting.”

With a grunt he leaped to this third archway, soaring through the air to land neatly. He walked forward warily, skeggox glowing, and realized that he had to - by the staircase’s orientation - be walking on the hallways ceiling.

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On he went, taking archways, climbing and descending stairwells, occasionally leaping to impossible to reach ledges or twice dropping into chutes that let out into other rooms. All were the same. Rough hewn from obsidian, the silence total, with no signs of life anywhere.

“Damn Hopeless Tower,” he muttered. “It’s well named.”

Hopeless Tower, which could also be rephrased as the Tower of No Hope. Perhaps it’s designed to crush our spirits?

James scowled. “Great. It’s going to bore me to death?” But he couldn’t deny how the dour, dank hallways and random orientation of the gravitational planes were starting to effect him. He felt frustrated, concerned for his friends, and anxious.

For a second he considered opening his demiplane and stepping into Herman’s bar. A drink of whiskey while listening to good music might help calm his nerves.

But no.

There had to be a solution to this. A way out, or through. Smashing the walls wasn’t the answer. There hadn’t been any illusions before, but maybe they were more selective? Hidden passageways?

“Let’s keep going. We’ll hit each hallway with Dispel Illusion. You search out of the way areas, high by the ceiling, that kind of thing, to see if we miss anything. Maybe there are… I don’t know, clues, or… something.”

Aye, aye, captain!Jelly flew up high and began to flit back and forth.

His determination reaffirmed, James strode on. No longer did he race down each hall, intent on finding a way out, but rather moved carefully, trying to find some manner of illusion, occasionally running his finger tips along the walls, frowning and searching for something - anything.

Finally he found something.

A small patch of a hallway’s wall, a couple of feet wide, was cloaked in artificial shadows.

He hit it with his Benediction, and a cramped tunnel revealed itself.

James felt a surge of elation. “Jelly! Check it out!”

The Animus flew down and hovered before the opening. Shall I take a quick look?

Sure. I’ll be right behind you. Be careful.

The Anima flew into the tunnel. There was no ambient lighting here, and soon James was crawling in darkness. Too bad it wasn’t magical; his Dark Vision was useless against natural shadows.

It opens into a new room! An exciting room! No enemies, but come see, hurry hurry!

James crawled faster, and soon light blossomed ahead, the same velvety dusk gray, and then he tumbled out into a circular chamber.

Circular was new.

The walls, floor, ceiling were all of the same obsidian, but a central well dominated the space, while glowing letters of gold were inlaid around the curved wall.

James turned as he read the message.

The Hands of Angels Cup the Candleflame of Hope

“Huh. You think that means we need to summon someone?”

It can’t hurt, I suppose.

James summoned his statistics, focused on the Angels, and activated the Angelic Host.

A golden seam appeared in the air on the far side of the chamber, then split and an angel appeared, floating through with ineffable grace.

Where the archangel had been all sullen power and controlled violence, this being was slender and graceful, his hair hanging down past his shoulders, his expression one of wry curiosity and genial amusement. Clad in a tunic that fell past his knees and was belted with a gold rope at the waist, he looked more a scholar than a warrior, though in the depths of his golden eyes blazed starfields that spoke of hidden infinities.

“Greetings, lord. You have need?”

The angel’s voice lacked the resonant power of the archangel’s; though clear and harmonious, it could have been that of a mere trained orator.

“I… yes. We’re on the ninth level of the Pit. The Hopeless Tower?” James felt off-balance, unsure how to address the politely inquisitive man. “We’re trapped and separated from our companions.”

“Understood. You wish for me to guide you to the center of the tower? It is easily done.”

“Yes. But…” This was the first time James had confronted an angel without extreme urgency forcing his hand. “Your name was Angelic Host. Doesn’t that mean there should be more of you?”

“I am/are the Host, that is correct. Should I die, two shall spring forth to take my place. Should they die, four shall be invoked, ad infinitum. So do we multiply till we are sufficient in number to achieve our task.”

“Damn,” said James. “That’s… impressive.”

“But only moderately so. We cannot defeat enemies that are categorically more powerful than ourselves, no matter our number. And often there is no time for our numerous deaths; if aid needs be immediate, we can fall short.”

“Often?” James frowned. “This is something you’ve done before? I thought my friends and I were the first to gain access to angelic aid.”

“Oh yes, you are.” The Host smiled. “But war is eternal. This is not the first conflict to take place, nor shall it be the last. If I die here, I shall be reborn to fight elsewhere. All is eternal, all is but a moment of infinite, repetitive duration.”

“Huh.” James scratched at his beard. “Where else have you fought? Like, other versions of Earth? Or… other planets?”

“My apologies. We are not permitted to speak of such matters. And may we suggest that we remain focused on the matters at hand?”

“Yeah, wait a second. I’ve a bunch of questions. Like, the Monitor once said they were compelled to do this, demon kind was. Are you forced to help? Who’s forcing you? God?”

The Host’s smile turned pitying. “Alas. All most excellent questions. But we cannot divulge answers before the apposite time. Suffice to say that I am here because you summoned me, and am happy to help you within the scope of my abilities and the limitations placed upon me by circumstances. I know this to be frustrating, but what can I do? We are all slaves to exigencies. Be glad, lord, that we angels are here to aid you. I can state with confidence that your ultimate success would be beyond your reach were it not for our help. Help that is willingly and happily given. Now, may I provide that help?”

“Sure,” said James, trying not to sound surly.

“Very well. Let us clarify the matters at hand. The nature of the Hopeless Tower is one of bafflement and loss. While you possess potent Benedictions, this is not a question of illusion so much as refinement of purpose. The Tower reacts to you, changing about you as your go, obfuscating the true path. This golden mote shall guide you and force the Tower to reveal its secrets.”

The Host lifted his hand and from his palm a coin of glowing light floated forth.

“Follow it, and all shall be well.” The Host bowed. “Good luck, lord. I wish you success in your endeavors.”

“You’re leaving already?”

The Host looked surprised. “We have rendered service, and are not constant companions. If you have need, you must summon us again. Goodbye.”

And with that the angel drew the golden seam in the air once more, parted it in twain, stepped through, and was gone.

The golden seam closed, and as with the archangel, began to fade away from view.

Frustration seized James by the throat. Something about the angel’s tone, its glib manner, its ease and confidence galled him, aroused his anger.

James darted forward and slid his fingers inside the golden seam. It vibrated about his hands, seeking to close and disappear.

James? Jelly’s dismay was obvious. James, what are you doing?

James grimaced and wrenched at the seam. It wasn’t a question of strength but spiritual will. With his Spiritual Exaltation and Mental Dominion he sought to leverage the seam back open.

But he wasn’t strong enough. The seam tightened, threatening to cut off his fingers.

Panicked, unsure as to what he was doing, he activated his Demiplane, placing the entrance right over the seam.

The vertical light glitched, threw off sparks, and for a moment a doorway tried to appear, the entrance to Herman’s bar.

In that second the power behind the seam weakened. James thrust open the angelic portal, shouldered past the entrance to his demiplane, and forced himself through.

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