“Even after all this time,” he says. “I can’t even look at them without wanting to throw up.”
Christine approaches, followed by the remaining soldiers.
“We can’t all fit through the entrance at once,” she whispers.
“We have no idea how many Rogues are in there.” I point to Christine and Tinus. “You two, follow me in first. The rest of you, think speedy thoughts.”
Tinus says something, but I have already propelled myself through the opening. My gifting flares at full blast.
The four Rogues see me but only one of them is armed. The other three run, side by side, toward a rocky archway at the other side of the chambers. They squeal for the others in their camp to join. I leap into the air, fly behind them, and make quick work of them by stabbing them all with three easy motions.
I land, facing off with the armed Rogue.
He shows his teeth.
A sword pierces his back from behind and he drops onto the stone.
I spit. “You stole my kill.”
“I know it takes away the epic nature of your little face off,” Christine says. “But let’s not forget why we’re here.”
I shake it off and run toward the large archway. I clutch my sword and I see Auro.
His eyes are covered with white bandages but the brown mustache still partially shows underneath. His wings are pressed against the stone wall. Red blood seeps through his white cloth like two red eyes peeking out from behind the bandage.
“Oh no,” Christine gasps. “Auro.”
He doesn’t answer. Tinus stoops down to lift Auro onto his back as Christine fights off the Rogues who lunge toward him.
“We have him,” Christine shouts. “Let’s get out of here.”
I don’t have time to argue with her. Rogues swarm around the chamber, I am outnumbered but I don’t care.
“Where is Cephus?” I shout.
The Rogues don’t respond.
They are too engaged with fighting. I leap on top of one of them and hold him to the ground and press my sword up against his neck. Another leaps behind me with a spear only to be met with the brute force of Uriel’s two-handed sword.
“Tell me,” spit flies into the Rogue’s face as I shout. “Where is he?”
“The Patriarch?”
“Cephus!”
My flames ignite as the Rogue’s clothes burn.
“They are the same,” he says. “But please have mercy.”
“Only if you tell me where he is!”
“He is in a camp by the North woods.”
I step back from the Rogue. Finally, I have what I searched for all this time. The actual location of the angel who took Terra’s life. True revenge is only a small journey away.
The pathetic Rogue slaps at his burning clothes to put out the flames. His eyes, ripping from the trauma. “Thank you, kind warrior. Thank you.”
“We leave,” I say to the others.
Uriel walks toward the entrance. He halts in front of the narrow opening and looks back across the chambers apparently realizing that I am not with him. His eyes widen and his mouth drops as he yells at me.
I ignore him.
““No, please.” The Rogue flails his arms. “’You said you would give me mercy!”
“Death is my mercy, you filthy Rogue.”
I plunge my sword into his neck.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Eye
THE OTHERS DRY OFF beside the fire while Christine and I stoop down next to Auro as he sleeps. The Healer assured us that he would recover before he moved on to address the injuries sustained by others in the camp. But as I look at his slowly rising and falling chest, I can’t help but second guess his opinion.
“I can’t believe we pulled that off,” Christine says.
“One of the perks of having two ocean Designers.”
I grin but my smile is not returned. The dark circles under her eyes look more prominent. Her skin grows so pale it looks as if her face will someday be completely engrossed in shadow.
Auro coughs and lifts his hands to his bandaged face. He starts to flail about.
“It’s okay,” Christine says.
“You’re safe,” I tell him.
Silence falls and then I hear it. A few small whimpers and then his shoulders tremble. He leans over and Christine catches him as he weeps.
He tells us about the way they treated him in the camp. He recounts the way that they plucked out one of his eyes slowly with a small knife.
“They just kept laughing,” he says. “They found so much joy in my suffering. I kept praying I would die.”
He tells us how he worries about the darkness but I assure him that the Healer was able to preserve one of his eyes. He will forever have a scar but at least he will be able to see with the one eye.
“We will send you home,” I tell him.
“No,” he says. “I won’t leave you all here to fight without me. I just need some time to heal.”
I shake my head toward Christine. He is no longer fit for warfare. I will not allow him to stay and slow down our advance.
“So you missed a good swim in the lake,” Uriel interrupts.
Unexpectedly, Auro laughs from behind the bandage. His stomach shakes so forcefully from what must be the joy of realizing that he truly is free from his tormentors that he practically topples over onto the ground with laughter.
Uriel catches him as he smiles.
“We will get you some water,” I say when Uriel takes his place beside his wounded friend.
I stand feeling that all too familiar rage, but for the first time in a while, I have the relief of knowing where he is. If the Rogue’s wide eyes were true, Cephus resides just a few miles from us, in the North Woods. I know the area well as it is not far from the Oasis where I spent so many of my days.
But that was a past life.
“He looks bad,” Christine says.
“He does,” I say. “But you look tired too, Christine.”
I grab a cup from my pouch and dip it into the stream that flows into the lake.
“Yes, I am.”
She brushes her brown hair from her eyes which have sunken back into their sockets, as if defeated and in retreat
“Perhaps, a brief time away would be good for you but it is not a privilege I can allow for everyone. But you have been faithful. I ask that you accompany Auro back to the Temple Center.”
Christine forces a smile at the realization she will be away from the army for a brief time. I don’t know if she is grateful or ashamed. But it is best for her. And ultimately, preserving her will be best for the war effort.
“Bring me Uriel,” I say. “I shall appoint him as your replacement.”
She nods and departs.
My breed rubs his paw along my leg, catching my attention. I stoop down low to scratch his cheek. “Tell me. Do you still feel as hungry as I do?”
I hear footsteps.
“I have granted leave to your parallel. She seems tired. I think the war is affecting her.”
“I believe it affects us all.” Uriel’s shoulders slump and his eyebrows lower as he shakes his head, looking down toward the ground.
“I have granted Christine’s request,” I say. “In the interim, you shall assume the duty of under-captain.”
“I understand.”
“Now go prepare me the legion. We will depart tonight for the North Woods.”
“Tonight?” Uriel says. “We’re still wet from the last fight.”
“I don’t want them to move their location,” I say.
Though in my heart, it’s never been about "them" but about him, the one Rogue who set this all into motion.
“I will not spend my night arguing with my under-captain. Know your role.”
Uriel nods and turns. He marches toward the bushes. His arms slide along the side of one of the thorny branches. His skin splits in a red tear. He stops his march and watches as a dab of blood drops onto the ground.
> “This is all wrong,” he says.
I don’t respond. I continue to pet my breed, who is now rolling backward on the ground eagerly inviting me to scratch his belly.
“We’ve been fighting them for over six months,” he says. “Your sword alone has taken the lives of scores of them. But it doesn’t make a difference. It feels like every time we kill one, another springs up behind them.”
“Did you think this would be easy?” I stand back up.
“No,” he walks back toward me. “But I thought we would be forces for good. Right now, it all feels so violent. I am second guessing it all.”
I place my hand on Uriel’s sides. “All wars feel bleak until the end. That is the very nature of conflict.”
“You act like you know what you’re talking about,” he says. “Have you forgotten we trained together? You speak as if you have some great understanding of war but I know you don’t. All you know is a deeper hate then the rest of us do.”
I tighten my grip on him and glare into his eyes.
“We will fight until every one of those blasphemers bleed out their last drop of iron blood. This war will end when my lust for their deaths dissipates.”
“Your lust?” he says. “Is that all this is to you? Some gigantic well of vengeance for you to drink from? Your angels die for you.”
“You question my leadership?”
“Look at him,” Uriel points toward Auro. “Do you feel nothing? Does that not tear your soul one bit?”
“I feel more pain than you will ever know.”
“You lost your parallel” Uriel says. “We get it. But scores of other angels are dying and wounded because of you. Are their lives truly worth less than Terra’s?”
How dare he even speak her name with such disrespect?
I swing my fist toward Uriel’s face, but my breed leaps to his feet and growls at me. The animal’s mouth froths as he protects Uriel.
“What are you doing?” I shout at the beast. “So is your loyalty to fall into question as well?”
I brush my breed to the side with my wrist and he turns and bites my arm. The pain surges through my hands. I cry out and slam my fist into his face. He whimpers and cowers backward. Walking slowly back into the tree line.
“You’ve changed,” Uriel doesn’t even move. “You care more for blood than anything else.”
I laugh. “I have not changed one bit. I wanted nothing but vengeance since the day I agreed to join the Prince’s army. I dreamed of tasting Rogue blood upon my lips. I longed to experience rubbing the bits of their flesh off my sword after a battle. I believed it to be the very purpose of my existence.”
Uriel’s narrow eyes continue to judge me.
“I have no time to put up with the arguments of an under-captain.”
“What about the concerns of a friend?” Uriel asks.
“You are not a friend,” I say. “You are also a soldier in my army. Return to your post. I shall appoint Tinus instead.”
Uriel’s face turns pale. His beard blows in the wind as he walks back toward the trees.
I am alone.
I sit back, my wings pressed against a tree. I lean forward onto my knees, feeling the emotions rush. My face warms and my fingers tingle. My breaths grow deeper and tears well up in my eyes. I let it go. I just begin to weep alone in this place.
The seconds pass, then minutes, then longer. I don’t know how much time I spend by this tree, but I don’t contain the sickness that I feel. I don’t care about them; I don’t care about the Prince. I only care about drawing more Rogue blood. But why does it feel so empty every time I kill them? The world does not feel more right when they are gone; if anything else, it all seems to spin more wildly with each passing day.
“It’s because I haven’t been able to kill him,” I say to myself brushing the fluid from my cheeks. “What good is it to kill the others when the schemer who actually pulled that bow against her lives in peace? What good is it to know that I have killed Rogues who never looked upon her dying face?”
I feel course sandpaper rub against my arm. My breed nuzzles up against me. I lean forward, my tears still wet in my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I should never have harmed you.”
The beast lays his hand on my shoulder. The animal’s forgiving eyes show me kindness that I don’t deserve.
“Someday, I will find a way to reward you for your loyalty.”
“You’ve seen better days,” a voice rings from behind me.
I turn to see another angel standing in the underbrush.
Sal approaches wearing a full suit of armor with a bright blue sash just above his chest. The crest of the Prince, prominently displayed. He looks all the part of a captain in the royal army. But a large sliced diagonal scar crosses his face.
“Brother,” I approach him, and we embrace. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“The Prince is very pleased with you,” Sal says.
I force a smile. “That means a great deal to me.”
“We all know that doesn’t amount to a grain of sand’s weight to you,” Sal says. “You only want to kill Rogues, but right now, the Prince doesn’t care. Word of your aggression has circulated the world over. It inspires our soldiers and terrifies our enemies.”
“They are afraid?”
“We have captured and even flipped a few of them. They have told us about their inner workings. They have names for you. They call you the Dark Warrior and the Accuser.”
I look upward and examine the moon in the sky. “The Dark Warrior,” I say. “That’s an odd name.”
“They say that your soul is dark, like a deep empty well, devoid of any compassion. That you are the Angel of Death.”
“I like it,” I say. “It’s as if I stole a title that should belong to a Rogue.”
Sal walks toward me. His eyes narrow as if he is examining me for some hidden treasure. “I’m sure that somewhere, Terra looks down on you with great pleasure.”
“Thank you.”
I hide how much I hate it when he invokes her name. It’s as if he does it just to reach some deep part of my soul that only he knows about, so that he can bury the knife in there. I won’t let him in on a weakness that seems to grow by the day.
Another angel lands in the soft grass beside Sal.
“It’s been a while,” the Frosted says. “You look terrible.”
I shoot a frustrated glance over to Sal. “What’s going on?”
“We all need to get to work,” the Frosted says. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“I’m about to rush into battle with the Rogues in the North Woods.” I say. “Why are you both here? What is this all about?”
“You’re about to march into a bloodbath,” the Frosted says. “You will need our help for what’s coming.”
I look over to Sal who nods agreement. “It’s a long story.”
“I have time,” I say.
Sal looks over at the Frosted who lifts his hands dismissively.
Sal sits down on a tree stump. “I was leading my army forward into a pretty dangerous Rogue territory up in the North. I ordered my scouts to do extensive reconnaissance on what lay ahead. My soldiers reported back with detailed explanations of the enemy’s battle plans. It made me overconfident.”
The Frosted kneels down to the ground as Sal speaks, looking into the eyes of my breed. The animal twists his head and growls. The Frosted smiles.
“Turns out the Rogues rigged the whole area with pits and traps,” Sal says. “We went in blind, thinking we were prepared for their strategy. Goes to show that belief isn’t always reality.”
“They were ambushed from behind,” the Frosted says, cutting the conversation to the chase.
“We didn’t know that they had another force to the south,” Sal says. “I along with half of my forces were taken prisoner.”
“How did I not know this?” I say. “We would have come immediately”
> “Nobody knew,” the Frosted says. “It was just by chance that the army we attacked happened to know of Sal’s imprisonment. We captured one of them and learned of his whereabouts. We fought them with every resource we had, and we rescued Sal.”
I stay silent.
“None were left alive,” Sal says.
“Good,” I say.
Sal shakes his head. It catches me off guard for a moment and then I realize the source of his judgment.
“I’m glad you are alright,” I say.
“Sometimes I wonder,” Sal says. “If you could trade my life for one of theirs if you’d even hesitate.”
“What does all of this have to do with me?” I say.
“Well, while the Prince interrogated the soldier,” Sal says. “We learned some key information about this installation.”
“The Rogue actually talked?” I say.
“The Prince can be very pursuasive.” Sal Says.
I push it all out of my mind and get to the point. “What did you find out? What is this all about?”
“Michael, they are amassing their army into one unit.” Sal grins. “They are preparing to raid the temple.”
“We must put an end to them here,” the Frosted says. “Before they take the war to our home.”
“So this is it,” I say. “The final battle with the Rogues?”
“It’s time,” Sal says. “We end this war tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Heart to Heart
I LAY ON MY BACK, wet and cold in the mud, staring up at the sky. The Aurora lights dance as they always do behind the cedar box, which I hold up above me in front of my eyes. My pupils pull in and out of focus as I examine the bloody fingerprint yet again. The swirling lines, her last imprint on this earth, look like a small maze. With no starting point or end, my vision scans the image as if trying to internalize some hidden clue as to how to bring her back.
But she can never be brought back.
“Tomorrow, I will make this right,” I whisper into the darkness. “I will bring you peace.”
I drift in and out of the fantasy. I remember the crooked smile etching out from under that crisscrossed scar. I can almost feel again the strength of his arms when he pushed against my shoulder. I imagine the sight of his hand, clutching a deep crimson wound in his chest. I picture my leg pressed down upon his shoulder as he spits out blood and gurgles out for mercy.
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