As Above, So Below

Written by World Smithy

Beep! Beep! Beep! The sounds of a dying machine echoed through the chasm's rough, rocky walls. A fire raged within the hollow's depths, its crackling wrath threatening to overtake the chirp of an automated call for help. Dust and rubble settled, crumbling and rolling across the cavernous floor. Black smoke billowed upwards searching for an exit from its subterranean prison. Hassa's icy blue eyes blinked open, finding only the soft, reddish glow peeking through the debris pinning her against the floor.

Her left arm was crushed beneath a massive boulder, and she couldn't feel or move it below the shoulder. Her right was pressed against her stomach, and still had feeling; pain. Her legs, scraped and bleeding, were unburdened and she made a feeble attempt at dragging herself out. It was no use, though; the rocks had her stuck as if she had fallen back first onto an adhesive trap.

“H-help! S-someone?! Anyone!” Hassa cried, muffled by the broken wall on top of her.

Her heart was a war drum, beating furiously in her chest as panic and fear ripped through her. Sweat pooled up under her tattered uniform and armor of the city guard as the heat from below found her. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to free herself, only gaining cuts and bruises in the process. Then, a weight lifted off of her from above. A savior? Who else could have survived the fall?!

Debris shifted and another weight was removed, further shining warm light down on her. The silhouette of a bulky man moved on the other side, huffing and puffing as he slung rocks and rubble to either side of the collapse. Another boulder hurled backwards, rolling to a stop on the opposite wall, relieved enough weight for Hassa to move her right arm. It was broken for sure, as revealed by the symphony of pain that rang in her ears; she screamed.

As her vision and voice began to fade, the man's features became clearer with the removal of the last movable chunk of debris. He was huge, standing almost eight feet tall and seemingly just as wide in the dancing firelight. Light gleamed off of his bald head, exposing sweat and blood that rolled down his cheeks. He looked familiar, his stony face now only inches from her own; his gray eyes spoke an apology of a thousand words. The last thing Hassa heard was a squishy pop and flesh being torn before she fainted.

***

Twinkling stars greeted her when her eyes flickered open again. The Pearls hung over head, bathing the broken landscape in their dim, white light. She couldn't feel her left arm and, unconsciously, tried to reach for it with her right. Without looking down, stiffness greeted her movements as the sling that held her arm was unyielding; it was wrapped up in what felt like gauze and scrapped together linens. Her whole body ached, and her right arm felt as if it were made of broken glass beneath the makeshift cast.

“Probably don't want t'move that t'much till' it heals, love.”

The gruff voice came from behind her followed by the approaching vibrations of his boots hitting the ground. Hassa attempted to sit up but was stopped by pain that shot down her spine. Relenting, she laid back down, the cool, damp grass tickling her bare back. A warm blush rushed up her cheeks at the realization that she was missing the top half of her uniform, covered only by bloodied, impromptu medical wraps that clung tight to her chest.

“If it'll put'cha at ease, I closed me eyes when I did tha'. Course', it was after I checked ya' for wounds; sorry, Miss...” the man said sheepishly. His voice was thick with a northern Vasani accent and Hassa had to pick through the shortened, conjoined words to make sense of them. “An' sorry 'bout ya' arm, love. Boulder had it good, an' I'm only so strong,” he said, sitting next to her on the dew coated grass.

Hassa turned her head in a painful, slow arc to look at her savior for the first time in actual, normal lighting. Her initial assumption about his height back in the wreckage had been accurate; he was definitely about three foot taller than she was. He wasn't as wide, though, he was certainly built like a sturdy stone wall. His skin was a slate gray and his bald head was covered in intricate tattoos. He didn't look down at her at all, opting instead to stare up at the shimmering night sky.

“Th-thank you... I would have died down there if it weren't for you. Your face is familiar, have I seen you before?” she asked, raising a bruised eyebrow beneath frazzled, brown bangs.

“Yes, Miss, I've seen ya' 'round before. Was a transfer from up north, tol' our garrisons in Quuset were thin. Shame it's buried 'neath the ground, now; was a beautiful flyin' city,” he said. His gaze dropped downwards towards her as he continued, “Name's Keovoi, Miss.”

“Hassa. I'll just call you Keo, I—I'm too tired for names,” she whispered, rolling her head back to gaze upwards. A streak of white, divine fire soared across the sky, impacting a distant mountainside. She watched it burst into a flash of blinding pearlescent light when it exploded and the once-mighty mountain crumbled into boulders and rubble as it rumbled downwards. Moments later, sound from the detonation reached the pair; a screeching, ear-splitting whine that heralded a concusive boom. When the shockwave finally reached them it whipped through their hair and bits of earth rushed passed where they sat.

“Was my tunic savable, Keo? I'm getting cold...” Hassa whispered. She closed her now-dusted eyelids where she lay as exhaustion threatened to steal her from the world once more.

***

Months passed since the fall of Quuset, an Aetherwen known for being a central economic hub in the southern reaches of the Vasani Dominion. Winter was fast approaching and the two of them were woefully underprepared due to their particular circumstance. Hassa's right arm had healed for the most part, though she was unable to properly rotate her wrist upwards without pain shooting through her bones. Her left shoulder, now host to a scarred stump of soft and sensitive flesh, brushed against her stained tunic's sleeve with every step.

“Keo,” Hassa began, trying to keep pace with his long strides on the well-worn trade route, “you never seemed very angry that everything was destroyed. You're always so neutral, how are you calm all the time?”

“Well, me Ma' always tol' us not t'worry 'bout thin's out of our control,” Keovoi said, keeping his gaze locked on the road ahead. “An' all this seems like one of those thin's out of me control. It weren't me tha' called 'imself a god, so I figure I'll get through it all jus' fine.”

She chewed on his words, breaking them down in her head. It was no secret that everything went to shit when the draconic king of the Dominion decided he wanted to play god, flaunting his power in front of the Architects. There had been rumor he disappeared some months ago, and his absence was the reason the angels had been increasingly ruthless in their pursuit of cleansing the continent of his influence. Hassa's mind wandered, conjuring images of her king setting the heavens themself alight with righteous flame.

“But I thought he was one, or, is... isn't he?” she asked, finally catching up beside Keovoi.

“Probably. Would explain a lot, I think,” he mused.

“Do you think that's why he's gone? He went to go show the Archi's who's in charge? Gosh, I hope so... I want them to suffer just as we have!”

“Didn' take ya' for the vindictive type, Miss,” Keovoi said, reaching out his massive palm and placing it on top of her head as they walked. “Nah, I don' know. Maybe he's jus' havin' a nice talk with em' all at a gran' table up in the sky.” He tousled her mousy hair and chuckled.

She put her hand on his and pushed it away in a huff, her cheeks blushing fiercely at the teasing. The air around them began to chill while they sauntered along the trade route as the sun started dipping below the horizon. Plumes of wispy smoke littered the skyline, no doubt small encampments either settling in for the night or hideaways being torched. Hassa shivered at the thought as images of dead and rotting people flitted through her mind. I hope they can smell it up there... I want their noses to burn with our smoke.

“Yeah, maybe... I doubt it though.” Hassa looked up at the towering half-giant, gauging how best to formulate her next words. “Were your ever pious, Keo? I used to study the arcane before I was inducted into the ranks of the guard, and I always treated Lyrastra like a second mother.”

“Use t' be an undertaker back home, actually. Lost the lil' brooch they gave me that had his crest on it, but I never stopped prayin' to Bheniin,” he said, glancing down at her. “Even now, with this war an' death an' starvin' goin' on, I ain't stopped. Might be the bes' time to do so, I think.”

Hassa bobbed her head, nodding as the two fell into silence once more. The road stretched on far ahead of them in a relatively straight line, with only a few sections of the paved path in disarray. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, bowing her head slightly. Without uttering a word, she began to pray. I didn't mean what I thought or said earlier, if you can even hear me, Lyrastra. I'm just so scared, and I miss the warmth your magic gave me. I'm sorry I couldn't be a better student when I could, or that I happen to be on this side of a conflict I can hardly understand. Is everything up there also on fire, crumbling, and dying?

To her surprise, a matronly voice crept into the back of her mind. It spoke not words, but symbols, sigils, and equations. The noise burned into her thoughts until it was all she could hear. Then, silence washed over her once more, the only sounds being Keovoi's deep breaths and their combined bootfalls on the cobbled path. Damn, I hope that was... good? I'll take it as a good sign you even reached out to me, my Mistress! Maybe if everything is fine up there, that same peace will find us back here... Thank you.