The Wrath of Angels (Eternal Warriors Book 3)

by Vox Day

  His champions wailed in dismay, but the Mad One’s howls soon died out as his strength finally gave out and he collapsed onto the floor, overborne by the fury of the angelfire. But then, even as Holli was starting to sigh with relief, a very strange thing began to happen. The flames that were devouring the remains of Maomoondagh’s prone form began to change color and swirl about counterclockwise, going first from an orange-red to a yellow-orange, then to a glowing white heat that seared her eyes and forced her to look away.

  “What’s going on?” she heard Khasar say. But before anyone could answer him, the swirling flames began to rise in a miniature tornado of fire about Holli’s height, leaving nothing underneath but a few charcoaled bones and a blackened skull that looked vaguely human. As angels and demons alike looked on in fear and confusion, the flames began to coalesce into a figure, a female figure, Holli saw, that mirrored her own, right down to her face.

  It was almost like standing in front of Jami, except her twin’s blonde hair had never shone with the white brilliance that radiated from the fiery goddess like a furnace, and the flaming eyes were not blue, but a madly roiling rainbow of colors instead.

  “Free at last!” the beautiful creature exclaimed, raising her hands above her head in exultation. “Free at last, by all the Hells, I am free at last!”

  “Master?” whispered one of Maomoondagh’s dark champions incredulously.

  Her glowing hand whipped around and caught him across the face with an audible crackle. The demon grunted, and Holli saw that his cheek was scorched where she had struck him.

  “Mistress!” she spat, before smiling sweetly at Holli. “Oh, my dear, darling mortal, I cannot thank you enough for ridding me of that blundering buffoon. You don’t know how long I have been trapped under the weight of his tedious mind.”

  “Um….” Holli wasn’t sure what to say, but Puck finally managed to find his tongue and stepped forward to bow rakishly before her doppelganger.

  “I do believe I am acquainted with a relative of yours, my lady. And I suspect that I have had the questionable fortune to have encountered you before, although I don’t know if you would happen to recall our meeting.”

  The rainbow eyes narrowed and the fiery head tilted to the side as the goddess regarded the irrepressible demon. “The trickster,” she commented, as if she was speaking to herself. “You were important, but I can’t recall why.”

  “Oh, I rather doubt that,” Puck said quickly. “But may I be so bold to inquire as to your name and your intentions?”

  “Of course!” The goddess smiled, showing perfect teeth of fire. “I am the Queen of Albion and I intend to rule it as I did before. Well, that’s not precisely right, but I imagine you get the point.”

  One of Maomoondagh’s champions pointed a clawed finger at Puck and Holli.

  “They wasn’t trying to help yer, yer Majesty, they was trying to kill yer.”

  “They were?” The goddess looked surprised, then shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. But then, if that’s so, why aren’t you attacking them already?”

  The demon took a step forward, but quailed when Holli raised Flamestealer and pointed it at his face. “Yer majesty… that sword.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” The goddess gestured at Holli and made a rueful face. “I’m sorry, my dear, but we simply can’t permit that sort of regicide to go unpunished, even if it worked out rather nicely in the end.”

  She took a step forward, but Holli knew what she was doing this time and she was ready. She didn’t speak, she simply unleashed a blast of angelic hellfire right into the goddess’ face.

  Only this time, the flames didn’t burn through this new Maomoondagh, they only flowed around the contours of her head until the colors changed and merged with her white-hot form. As they disappeared, she closed her eyes and an expression of enigmatic ecstasy flashed across her face.

  “Mmmmm, hit me one more time.” The goddess opened her luminous eyes and laughed. “Savaged by a little lamb! Oh, darling, my precious, don’t you understand, there is nothing in this creation that can do me any harm!”

  “To be sure,” Puck agreed loudly. “After all, what could possibly harm a true Daughter of Chaos?”

  Holli wondered at his strange emphasis, until she saw a flash of motion to her left. It was Derek. No sooner had Puck spoken than he ran towards the goddess, holding Chrysaor aloft. And although the burning flames licked out at him as he approached her, he did not hesitate, but cried out in wordless triumph as he plunged Chrysaor into the Chaos-thing’s burning side like a spear.

  “No!” Holli screamed, suddenly realizing what Derek had done as the Chaos fire erupted from the wound like a blazing volcano and he disappeared from her sight in a mass of blinding-white flames. She took an uncertain step forward, desperate to help him, only to be met by a diving Khasar, who smashed into her and sent her flying backwards.

  There was a brilliant flash and a deafening roar, and Holli felt herself rising into the air. Then something struck her, or she struck something, and the world vanished into darkness.

  Chapter 36

  Restoration

  When all the world dissolves,

  and every creature shall be purified,

  all places shall be Hell that is not Heaven.

  —Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus

  Holli awoke in a dark and formless void. It was cold. Her arms were trapped, as were her legs, though after a moment’s panic she realized that she couldn’t be paralyzed as she found that she was able to wiggle her toes. Whatever pinned her down was hard, either metal or stone of some kind. It didn’t feel rough enough to be concrete. She tried to picture what had happened and where she was, but try as she might, she could only summon up the terrible explosion and the brief sensation of flying backward. How far below the ground was she? She had just enough room to move her head from side to side and for her chest to rise and fall, but that was all.

  Despite her dire straits, she couldn’t help a burst of hysterical laughter. Sure, she was buried beneath only God knew how much rubble, she couldn’t move and she had no idea how long her air would last, but her chances of survival were looking a whole lot better than they were about five minutes ago. Maomoondagh was dead twice over, Flamestealer must have burned at least six or eight seriously evil demons to a crisp and maybe Puck or Melusine would be decent enough to come looking for her. She didn’t count on it, though. They’d have no reason to assume she survived the collapse of the great chamber, and even if they suspected as much, she was pretty sure that Melusine would be just as happy to leave her buried alive, for all that she’d saved her life earlier.

  And it would probably never even cross Puck’s mind to think of her. But Khasar would look for her. He’d know she wasn’t dead yet. He had pretty good connections in Heaven, after all. She did her best not to think about the many tons of rocks or whatever on top of her and turned her mind towards Derek. It didn’t seem possible, first, that he was gone, or second, that she even cared. But after what they’d been through, after what he’d done, she knew she’d never be able to think of him as nothing but a self-centered, cold-blooded killer again. Even if he’d survived, which really didn’t seem all that likely at the moment, what he did was pretty darn heroic. The thought made her sad, but it gave her hope too. If God could change a brutal, violent heart like his, then surely he could change a stubborn one like Daddy’s….

  “You have to get me out of here!” she cried out to her Heavenly Father, and as if in response, she suddenly had the vague impression that the weight above had lessened a little. A faint grayness appeared somewhere to her left, not so much a light as a crack in the total darkness that surrounded her. There was a creaking, groaning sound, and for one terrifying moment, she thought everything was going to collapse in on her.

  “Hey, be careful!” she shouted.

  “We found her!” she heard an answering shout. It was only a matter of moments before she was blinking and squinting as her eyes adjusted
to the light. Huge blocks of broken stone were magically being lifted off her, but not until she sat up could she see who was freeing her. It was the Faery King himself, magically tossing monstrous chunks of concrete aside, accompanied by Khasar. Then she cried out as she tried to move her left leg and realized it was broken.

  “Hold still,” Khasar ordered, and he leaped easily down to her and placed both hands around her shin. She felt a warm sensation and the pain quickly disappeared. “You’ll limp for a few days, but you’ll recover. How’s your head?”

  My what? Holli reached up and felt something wet and sticky. When she drew her hand away, it was covered with blood. She felt light-headed at the sight of it, but the archon quickly reached out and healed that too. “That’s a good trick,” she told him, doing her best to wipe off her hand on the stone next to her.

  The archon glanced at the Faery King and smiled. “Mortals are perilously fragile. It comes in handy, when it’s permitted.”

  “Derek, is he okay?”

  Khasar smiled, a little sadly. “It depends what you mean by that. He did not survive his victory, not in this shadow. He surprised me there, at the end. I did not truly believe he possessed the strength to see it through.”

  Holli bit her lip, surprised at the pain she felt. She didn’t like Derek. She’d never liked him, and yet, pain of a sort that she had not known since losing Eric suddenly wracked her. But then, suspicion dawned suddenly in her mind. “You didn’t think he’d have the strength… you don’t mean you were counting on me!”

  The archon shook his head. “No, he was chosen—he had prayed many times for a chance to serve so that his life would not be wasted behind bars. But his heart was always unsure. We were more certain of you, although when Jehuel appeared, I was of course delighted. Once he entered the picture, I hoped that no one need perish.”

  “I could never have done that, Khasar. Never. He was so brave. I don’t think I could have run into the fire like that. Honestly, I don’t think I could have done it.”

  “Then let us praise the Most High that we shall never know. Now, let’s get you out of there.” Khasar bent down and started to cradle Holli in his powerful arms, but he stopped when Oberon laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Leave her, archon, and allow me the honor.” The Faery King was in excellent humor, and his bearded face was wreathed in a smile as with a mere gesture, he lifted Holli from the debris and gently deposited her in the midst of an open area cleared of the chamber’s wreckage. A path had been cleared all the way to one of the great doors, and already dozens of angels had come to pay homage to the new lord of the realm. Some were entering slowly, and uncertainly, while others rushed in with expressions of delight and glee, but Oberon ignored them all as he bowed his head and kissed Holli’s hand.

  “Albion is in your debt, mortal maiden.” He started to say something else, but then his eyes widened and he stiffened, forgetting Holli entirely as he stared at someone entering the hall. There was a sudden rush of murmurs, and then all conversation in the great room died down at once.

  It was Titania. The spirits gathered in the chamber parted like the Red Sea before her. Her eyes were downcast, but she was entirely ravishing. Her waist-length hair was swept up and back, bound with a complicated silver filigree. She was wearing black robes and she was not only wingless, but barefoot. She paid no attention to the hushed demons around her, but walked slowly and gracefully towards the Faery King, whose bearded face was impassive, even haughty. He said nothing until she stopped ten or fifteen feet from him and curtsied, refusing to so much as look at his face before kneeling in front of him.

  Oberon stood there and stared at her for a long moment, a stunning red, black and silver vision despite her conspicuously humble entrance. Holli saw his jaw bulge twice with repressed emotion before he spoke, harshly and coldly.

  Too much honour, it seems I paid.

  All love and faith, Lady, mislaid.

  How can it be that you come here,

  For have you then nothing to fear?

  For decades was I lorn and lost

  Reckoning treach’ry’s bitter cost.

  What price a crown? What price a throne?

  What think you could ever atone?

  But Titania looked up to meet his gaze, and it was not she, but the Faery King, who blinked first. Her eyes were like two massive emeralds set in a sea of ice, and there was no humility in her voice as she answered with words that echoed through the shattered throne room.

  I do not come for pardon, king,

  Nor do I regret anything.

  I had no thought to save your throne

  I lived for Albion alone.

  The whore of Chaos, yes, ‘tis true,

  Abandoned, what else could I do?

  I come merely to acknowledge

  Albion’s king, and make my pledge

  Of my undying loyalty

  To Faerie and her royalty.

  Oberon’s face suffused with red, and Holli wondered if perhaps he might burst with rage. He swelled up and for a moment she actually thought he was going to strike Titania. But instead, he jabbed a finger in her face and, enraged, spat venom as poisonous as any snake’s.

  You beg no pardon, Lady, well,

  Then get thee gone, posthaste, to Hell!

  And learn no king can e’er ignore

  Betrayal by an unfaithful—”

  There was a flash of movement next to her and suddenly Puck was standing beside Titania. He raised his palm in shocking rebuke, and the makeshift Faery Court gasped in collective dismay. But Puck cared as little for the sensibilities of demon kings as he did for anything else and he shouted fearlessly back at the Faery King, interrupting him before he could complete his furious accusations.

  Speak not one more word, Oberon!

  She thought of naught but Albion,

  And your true faeries to protect.

  She was ever the architect

  Of your freedom, now listen well,

  ‘Twas I who changed the faery spell!

  Lest you attempt to seek what’s thine

  And bring to ruin my grand design.

  “It was me,” he repeated, more calmly. “I changed Gloriana’s spell, and thus your memories. They are mostly true, it was only the end that was false. The queen never apologized to you, as she had nothing for which to apologize. By the time you fell, she was already gone; her honor guard whisked her to safety as soon as the attack began.”

  Puck turned to Titania and went down on one knee. “Do forgive me, dear Lady. It was needful. There was no other way to keep him from your side once he was free, and I dared not let him fall into the hands of Maomoondagh.”

  Titania ignored him, and rose slowly to her feet. She and Oberon stared at each other, their faces impassive. Holli could not tell if they were about to embrace or engage in mortal combat. Immortal combat, she corrected herself, as she and all the watching demons held their breath waiting to see who would speak first. Finally, Oberon bowed his head and held out his right hand to Titania. She took it, held it for a moment, then curtsied again and kissed his ring. But Oberon’s face was still cold and his voice was rough as he addressed her for a third time.

  “Lady, it seems I have wronged you. And you have ruled Albion as its queen and seen her through her longest, darkest hour in my absence. Will you not stay, then, and defend her as her true queen against this new power rising from across the sea?”

  Titania, still holding the Faery King’s hand, threw back her head. Her beauty was overpowering, but Holli, from her vantage point, could see the beginnings of a tear in the corner of her eye.

  “For all that I love Faerie, I shall not consent to be her queen alone, never! Nevermore shall I sit her throne, nevermore shall I wear this crown unless you first assure me that I am still the queen of your heart.”

  The waiting demons was silent and tense as they waited for the king’s answer. It came quickly, as Oberon closed his eyes and pressed her hand to his chest. His eyes,
too, were moist as he answered her in a voice husky with emotion.

  “There is but one fire between us, Lady.”

  He crushed her to him in an embrace that was like a river bursting through a dam. Their audience roared with both relief and approval, and Holli looked around in awe as green grass began to shoot magically up from the dead, shattered concrete, transforming the wreckage of the Mad One’s throne room into a glorious spring bower. Flowers blossomed, roses, bluebells, tulips and more in a mad panoply of color and joy, and the sweet scent of them was like perfume filling the secret glade.

  The Faery King slipped his arm around the slender waist of his queen, and with an imperious gesture quelled the cheering watchers. “Thus is Albion reborn! Now, my friends, you have been angels and you have been demons. But will you stand with me, will you stand with my queen, will you stand once more with this my realm as my Fae, against Heaven and against Hell, against Diavelina and her damned legions, evermore?”

  The tumultuous assent of the reborn Faery Court was deafening, and Holli, caught up in the moment, found herself getting elbowed disapprovingly by Khasar as she started to join in.

  “Then rise, Knights of Rose and Thorn! Rise, Knights of Hedge and Heather! Rise, o you beautiful blossoms of undying Faerie! Oberon, your king, commands it!”

  In a flash, the gathered demons were transformed into a brilliant rainbow of glass-armored warriors and gorgeously gowned winged ladies. Holli stared about with her mouth hanging open, overcome by the sheer spectacle of it all. It was like something out of a children’s book, but as only a child could imagine it, a vision far beyond the feeble imaginations of the adult world. The colors were richer than rich, brighter than bright, and only once before, in Heaven, had she ever felt such a palpable sense of uninhibited and riotous beauty.

  “Now, there are debts that must be paid,” King Oberon said, his teeth showing whitely through his beard as he smiled. “Robin Goodfellow, old friend, you have but to ask of me what you will, and you shall receive it.”