Darksiders: The Abomination Vault by Ari Marmell

Author:Ari Marmell [Marmell, Ari]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Video & Electronic, Action & Adventure, Fiction, Fantasy, Games, Epic
ISBN: 9780345535863
Google: EJSP0gBI2MkC
Amazon: 0345534026
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2012-07-23T23:00:00+00:00

IT WAS FINALLY AZRAEL himself—after a prolonged discussion with the other scribes, conducted while hunched over a tableful of heaped scrolls—who brought the Horsemen their answers. He glided over, bearing both a fretful grimace and a tattered parchment. Brittle, yellowed, it looked as though the slightest touch, or even a moderate breath, would set it to crumbling, yet it held up under the angel’s fingers without so much as shedding dust.

“We have something,” he announced, utterly unnecessarily, as he set down once more upon the walkway.

“And well past time!” War said.

“Absolutely,” Death concurred, casually turning to face the new arrival. “Much more pacing and I believe War would actually have worn himself shorter than he used to be.”

“Yes, I do apologize for taking so long,” Azrael said. “It turns out there’s very little written about her, and then only as a few passing references in the history of others …” He trailed off, shook his head. “Well …

“Belisatra, or so we have it written, was the apprentice of a Maker called Gulbannan.”

“I’ve heard that name,” the younger Horseman muttered. His brother nodded in agreement.

“I’m unsurprised. Gulbannan was one of the truly ancient Old Ones. He was a master of many crafts, many magics. Some even say that he combined the arts of the Forge Makers with those who focus on the genesis and shaping of the living.”

It was the elder brother who next interjected. “I cannot help but notice,” he said, “your consistent use of the word was.”

“Um, quite.” It was Azrael, now, who began to pace. War and Death exchanged worried looks at the normally imperturbable angel’s agitation. “Gulbannan was murdered, some ages gone. As best our records show, Belisatra was never again seen in the Makers’ Realm, nor ever heard from, after her master’s death. Which, the other Makers presumed at the time, made her either another victim, or …”

“Or the killer,” Death finished for him.

“The Makers never hunted her down?” War asked. “It seems that if he was ancient and a respected member of the race as you say, someone ought to have been seeking justice. Or at least vengeance.”

“Had it happened a few centuries earlier, they doubtless would have. At the time of his demise, however, Gulbannan was thoroughly estranged from the community and the company of his fellow Old Ones.”

Death lashed out with an arm, snagging Azrael by the shoulder and tugging his pacing to an abrupt halt. “All right, Azrael. This drag it out of me line by line routine isn’t like you. You’re avoiding something.”

The angel smiled, though he sighed through it. “You never were one for the gentle approach, were you?”

“I prefer to stockpile my patience rather than spend it frivolously.”

“All right.” Azrael shrugged the hand from his shoulder. “Gulbannan had taken up with a lover, until shortly before his death. The other Makers disapproved, vehemently, of his chosen paramour.”

“Who?” War demanded. But Death had already turned away, once again cursing in that language so ancient, even his fellow Horseman could not comprehend it.

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