Judas: The Relic (The Iscariot Warrior Series Book 2)

by Roy Bright

  Barachiel roars with laughter. “My dear boy, is that what you believe? That simply wielding it will be enough to defeat me?” He laughs once again. “Pathetic creature. This is your end.” He streams out of the darkness, hovering above the ground, the enormous spear in his left hand, his right hand pointing at Judas. “This will not even be a fight. This will be annihilation, cold-blooded murder.”

  “Remember, Judas,” Ikazuchi whispers to him, “disarm him and set me upon my brother. You must then keep him occupied until I have won.”

  He glances at his sword. “Oh really. Is that all?”

  “Get ready.” Ikazuchi replies. “Here he comes.”

  Barachiel ceases to float across the room. Instead, he lands on the ground and charges at Judas who raises his sword in readiness to repel the attack. His massive legs thunder across the floor, causing it to shake. He reaches him and thrusts the spear, forcing Judas to parry.

  The violent vibration carried through his sword stings his hand and he calls out. With no time to dwell on the pain, he raises his sword with the flat of the blade uppermost, his left hand beneath it to defend against an overhead, downward strike.

  Leviathan connects with Ikazuchi and both weapons cry out in unison.

  “Brother!” they scream as lightning-blue sparks erupts from the contact, flashing all around the room.

  The force pushes Judas down, cracking and splintering the wood beneath him. For a split second, he fears that it will give way and he will crunch through the floor, into whatever lies below. He throws as much strength as he can into a counter attack, shunting upward to push Barachiel’s weapon away, then follows up with a slash to his midsection – it connects with nothing but air as Barachiel motion-blurs and slipstreams behind him. He dives forward, rolling away from Barachiel’s spear as it thrusts at him from behind, missing him by a fraction of an inch. Regaining his footing and rising to his feet, he whips around to face his attacker. To his surprise, Barachiel hasn’t followed up his attack. He paces the room in front of him.

  “Impressive, Iscariot,” he says, spinning Leviathan in his hand. “You have genuinely, at this point, lasted longer than anyone I have faced in a 1000 years. Well done sir.”

  Breathing hard, Judas sneers at his foe.

  “You have done well, Betrayer, but you still haven’t unlocked all of Azazel’s true power yet and that is going to be a problem for you.”

  He almost lifts his sword up too late as Barachiel blurs forward and attacks. He parries the blow but at the expense of exposing his defense and Barachiel takes advantage, grabbing him by the throat.

  Lifting him into the air, Barachiel glides to the opposite side of the room and slams Judas into the wall. “You see, Iscariot, you are pathetic and you do not have what it takes to defeat me.”

  Ikazuchi speaks to him as he struggles to free himself from Barachiel’s powerful grip. “Use me, Judas. Remember where you are. You are not in man’s reality anymore. Tell me what to be. Use me.”

  Struggling to speak as the crushing pressure closes his throat, Judas releases his grip on Ikazuchi and gurgles. “Serpent. Be fearsome, Ikazuchi.”

  With that, the sword transforms into its gigantic snake form and sinks its teeth into Barachiel’s right arm.

  The former Archangel cries out in pain, something he has not felt in centuries, as the snake bites deeper into his arm, forcing him to drop the spear and it clanks onto the floor.

  Ikazuchi whips his head to the left and hurls Barachiel all the way across to the other side of the room where he crashes into the wall. He then turns back toward Judas. “Now, move! Keep him busy.”

  As Barachiel slams into the wall, he cries out to his weapon using its conquered name. “Zaruti, enrage!”

  The spear transforms into a gigantic dragon-serpent and attacks Serpent Ikazuchi, biting into his neck.

  Ikazuchi screeches and rears up, causing Zaruti’s teeth to rake through his skin, leaving deep gouge marks. He then powers down onto his brother’s back, clamping his mouth around him and slamming him into the ground. Lifting him up, Ikazuchi hurls him across the room as he did Barachiel.

  As Zaruti tumbles out of control toward Barachiel, Judas sprints to his opponent weaving under and in-between the flailing serpent. He emerges from under the creature, catching Barachiel unawares and throws a devastating punch at him, connecting with the left side of his head, spinning him to his right, and slamming him back into the wall.

  Bouncing off, Barachiel counters by completing the spin to his right and all the way around. He extends his wings and slices them at Judas who has just enough time to extend his own and wrap them around himself as a shield.

  The strike connects and although his own wings deflect most of the blow, the force sends him skidding across the floor on his side. Before he has time to recover, Barachiel is upon him, lifting him to his feet and levitating him upward at speed. He connects with the ceiling and masonry explodes around him, showering the ground below, then hurtles toward the floor as Barachiel throws him downward. Hitting the ground, he crunches straight through it and into the room below, landing on his back; and he exhales, the force winding him. He looks up in time to see Barachiel power through the hole after him and, instinctively, he throws as much force into beating down his wings as he can muster and launches upward, almost calling out in amazement as the realization that flight has been afforded to him, despite the Thŭramré that is in effect. But there is no time to dwell on such things and, before Barachiel has time to react, Judas punches him hard in the face, sending him back through the floor, to the left of the hole they have just come through.

  The strike hurt a lot and Barachiel wonders how such a thing is possible. How can this pathetic sub-angel be landing blows that affect him so? Not only that, how has he circumvented the Thŭramré? As he crashes into the floor, skidding across it, he looks at the warring serpents and sees that his is not faring so well against its brother.

  ***

  “You have always been weaker than I,” Serpent Ikazuchi hisses at his sibling as he draws his head back and to the right, lining up to sideswipe him with it.

  Zaruti looks up just as the blow connects, once again sending him sprawling across the room.

  “You do not deserve the power of assimilation that beats within you.” Ikazuchi transforms back into his human form of Azazel, “Give it to me now and I will ensure your return to The Nether is a painless one.”

  Zaruti does likewise, transforming back into Leviathan. “You think this is over, brother?” he says, scrambling back on his hands and feet, connecting with a wall and pushing himself into a standing position. “You think I haven’t learned a thing or two since we were last locked in battle? I wouldn’t be so quick to declare your victory just yet if I were you.” With that, he transforms into a giant wolf and launches at Azazel, clamping down on his brother with his massive jaws and shaking him from side to side.

  Azazel cries out, more through annoyance than actual pain and rains blow after blow into the beast’s face. He lands a vicious punch to the underside of Zaruti’s left eye and the creature howls with pain, tossing him to the floor. He rolls across it and then steadies himself with one hand. “Wolves it is then, brother!” he says, charging at Zaruti and transforming into a giant wolf himself. He launches at him, clamping his mouth around his throat and bites down, producing a high-pitched yelp from his foe.

  Zaruti twists and turns, fighting to free himself from Ikazuchi’s tremendous grip and he snarls and gnashes at his sibling in his attempt to do so, black blood-flecked saliva spraying from his mouth.

  But he proves to be too powerful for Zaruti and his relentless grip refuses to let go. He pummels the stricken wolf into the wall with multiple shakes of his head and, with each strike, Zaruti’s struggling becomes weaker. He releases his grip, dropping him to the floor and his brother transforms back into Leviathan, his body covered in bite wounds, his left side dripping with blood and his right eye battered and almost closed.


  He looks up at his brother. “Stop, STOP!” he says, holding up a hand, attempting to abate him. “There is much you do not know. Wait, and I will tell you.”

  Ikazuchi growls and then transforms into Azazel albeit a much bigger size than normal, around ten feet in height. His eyes burn yellow with a fierce maddening, making him look more demonic than ever. “In less than a minute I will know all you know or ever will know anyway, so you’re pathetic pleas concern me not brother. I told you, did I not, that I have always been stronger. Did I not say that? DID I NOT TELL YOU THIS?”

  “Yes, yes you did, Azazel,” he replies, begging for his life, “you have always been the strongest of all three of us.”

  “Then why did you assist Beelzebub in trying to destroy me? It is this treachery that saw the Creator banish us both into our Nether prisons, forbidding us from ruling equally again.” He points to Barachiel, who is now on top of Judas, a powerful hand spread over his face, pinning him to the floor. “And you put your faith in this one? This pathetic pissant who is moments away from his destruction?”

  “Beelzebub promised me an equal rule in Hell,” he says, his hands raised and shaking. “He betrayed me as much as he betrayed you. But there are things I can tell you. Much I can make you aware of, if you let me.”

  “Like I said, brother, you are going to tell me everything anyway.” He opens his huge mouth and horrific razor-sharp teeth jut out, black blood dripping from them. He attacks, biting into his brother’s head, removing a large chunk, then devours it. He proceeds to eat his way through the rest of his face as Leviathan screams in pain, blood spurting out from every fresh wound, spraying over Azazel, the wall and onto the floor. When done with the head, signified by an abrupt end to the screaming, Azazel moves onto the body and consumes his prey in moments, taking huge chunks out of it and slurping them down with relish. His face drips with dark blood, his eyes burn the fiercest yellow, and he turns to Judas who is racing toward a charging Barachiel. “Now, Iscariot,” he screams, “let us finish this.”

  ***

  Judas fails to react quick enough to Barachiel’s rampaging advance and the dark angel powers into his midsection, lifting him into the air and slamming him into the ground. His head snaps back from a powerful open-palmed hand into his face, disorientating him and pinning his head to the floor.

  Barachiel screams into his face. “You will never win this, Iscariot. You are but a mere insect for me to swat.”

  “Then why are you breathing so heavily?” he says, his words muffled by the hand over his face. He regains his composure, grips Barachiel’s face with both hands, and forces his thumbs into his eyes.

  Barachiel screams and lifts both Judas and himself into the air and then throws him clear across the room once again.

  Rolling and skidding to a halt, Judas turns to see Barachiel bearing down upon him and he uses his wings to drive himself forward.

  The two collide and trade blows, slipping in and out of each other’s swings, ducking and blocking in a fast display of exceptional martial arts skills.

  Barachiel finds a way through Judas’ blocking guard and connects with a right hook that sends him reeling to his right.

  It hurt, but Judas combines the movement with a sharp flap of his left wing and brings himself all the way around to land a vicious left into Barachiel’s face, staggering him. He attempts to follow up with a kick to his midsection, but Barachiel recovers enough to grab his foot.

  He pulls Judas to him and slams a forearm across his throat, crashing him down onto the ground. He then raises his foot and powers it down toward his face.

  Judas rolls out of the way as the massive foot crunches into the floor, splintering the wood, then onto bended knee, readying himself to launch another attack, but the dark angel is faster, much faster, and he feels a foot connect with his face, sending him flying backward almost 100 feet onto his back and it hurt. A lot.

  Barachiel strides toward him, the ground vibrating under each footfall. “I told you, Betrayer – I told you that you would never defeat me.”

  Judas pushes himself up onto bended knee and as he approaches, points to his right, toward Azazel who is in the final stages of devouring Zaruti. “And you say I do not know my weapon, you fool. At least I know where mine is in the fight.”

  Barachiel glances at the feeding Azazel. He roars and breaks into a run, sprinting toward Judas.

  Judas rears up and charges at him. From his right he hears, “Now, Iscariot, let us finish this.” He holds out his right hand. Without looking and while still on the move, he catches Ikazuchi who has leapt into the air and somersaulted while transforming. He screams, bringing the weapon forward in the same movement, stabbing it straight into Barachiel’s face and the dark angel screams, along with a thousand other voices all crying over one another. Ikazuchi vibrates within his grip, violent and painful as it starts to consume Barachiel and he has to grip it with both hands to prevent himself from dropping it. The pain travels all the way up his arms and into his chest as the vibration builds and a humming sound accompanies it. Judas screams as it is almost too much to bear and a powerful and cyclonic wind whips up around him with electricity arcing throughout it. He watches, transfixed, as Ikazuchi consumes Barachiel, the Dark One buckling and collapsing into himself and then the sword. After what feels like an eternity, the storm around him abates and the room falls silent. He drops to his knees, exhausted, Ikazuchi rolling out of his hands and transforming back into Azazel.

  Azazel walks over to, and places his hands on the side of Judas’ head, drawing his face upward to look into it. “We are not done just quite yet, my friend,” he says, as his eyes fog over. From his wide-open mouth, he emits a dark and ominous mist that encircles Judas’ head and then enters him through his nostrils, mouth, ears, and eyes.

  Judas screams as thousands upon thousands of years’ worth of knowledge flood into him, information stolen, not earned, and his mind fights against the assimilation, attempting to repel the foreign invader. He grabs Azazel’s hands, still holding either side of his head and attempts to remove them, to stop the madness running rampant within his mind, but the demon’s grip is determined, unwavering, and he is unable to break it. His thoughts race as he speeds through time itself, all the way back to the moment the Alfather threw the universe into existence and the Creator turns and stares back at him, cocking his head to one side. He points at Judas and his terror peaks as a singularity explosion propels him back from where his mind has just dragged him. He races back through time and space, and information speeds toward him, sticking to and covering him like a cancer spreading and corrupting healthy cells.

  Back in the castle room, a door bursts open and through it races Charlotte, her eyes widening as she sees the kneeling pair within the room, surrounded by a maelstrom of dark energy. She sets off toward them in a panicked hurry but Michael checks her.

  “No, stop!” he says, wrapping his arms around her, preventing her from running toward them any further. “Let this finish. You’ll destroy him if you stop it now.”

  She struggles within his arms for a moment but then calms and ceases after he repeats his command, this time with more force, emphasizing Judas’ demise if she were to intervene. She shakes herself out of his grip and edges toward Judas and Azazel still locked within the data transfer cycle. “What’s happening?” she asks, looking at Michael.

  He walks to the side of her. “I assume they have defeated Barachiel and they are now assimilating whatever power his weapon possessed. He is acquiring Barachiel’s entire knowledge and experience, gained over millions of years, within minutes. We should definitely not interrupt this transference.”

  She looks at him for a moment and then returns her attention toward Judas. “How long will it take?”

  Michael is about to answer when the room falls silent and the event stops.

  Judas tumbles forward onto the floor and Azazel remains kneeling, shaking and breathing heavily.

  Charlotte runs toward J
udas and drops down onto the ground next to him, pulling his head into her lap and holding it tight. She glares at Azazel. “You had best hope and pray that he wakes from this, demon, or I will fucking end you.”

  Azazel turns to her and grins.

  Forty-Four

  Charlotte laughs as she completes another cartwheel, this time plonking herself onto her backside with a bump.

  Tall summer grass sways in a gentle breeze, bringing along with it the smell of beautiful wild flowers from the nearby forest.

  Judas laughs along with her and gets to his feet, ambling over and pulling on a piece of long grass along the way, snapping it halfway up the stalk then putting it in his mouth. He smiles and takes a deep breath as he looks up at the sun, shielding his eyes from the glare. Gabriel was right, he tells himself, it truly is a wondrous world.

  “Daddy, daddy!” the young Charlotte shouts as she waves. “Watch me do another one, faster this time.”

  “Be careful, pickle,” he says as the tiny nine-year-old scurries off, gathering speed.

  She launches herself into another series of cartwheels and, while in the middle of her fourth, becomes disorientated, dizzy, and loses control. She crashes to the ground, hard, and lets out a yelp of pain.

  He spits the piece of grass out and races over to her. Worry and concern flood into him and even though he knows that this is a false reality, he had requested to the Eternal Council that she be able to feel and experience life in the same way that any normal child would, albeit with zero risk of fatality. Therefore, as he sprints toward her, he knows that whatever pain she is feeling is real and his parental instincts have gone into overdrive. He drops to his knees and scoops her up into his arms, comforting her through her tears. He pats her head and tells her it will be all right, that he will always be there for her. “Where does it hurt?” he says, lifting her head up a little and wiping the tears from her eyes.