An Arrow In Flight (Seven Archangels Book 1)

by Jane Lebak

  Tobias found the angel and smiled weakly. "Azariah?"

  "Yes, Tobias, husband of Sarah?"

  "I'm not sure how to begin."

  "Why not start with thanking me? You're alive."

  "Thank you. I have to ask you a favor."

  Tobias looked so sheepish that Raphael stood to his full height and glared at him.

  "You're the head of a household now! I'm your hired man. You don't ask favors—you give me orders! Walk away and come back, and start over."

  Tobias, with eyes as large as fists, backed around the corner.

  Gabriel leaned against the wall with arms crossed. "My, are you a tough man to hire!"

  Raphael's eyes flashed. "It's time he grew some spine. He's married now, and this morning Raguel gave him half his property. He's no longer a child." With a huff, Raphael sat to wait for Tobias's return.

  Tobias strode around the corner. "Brother Azariah, I have a task for you."

  "Yes?"

  "Stand up while I'm speaking!"

  Gabriel burst out laughing, and it was all Tobias could do not to crack up himself. Raphael got to his feet with a bemused smile.

  "And wipe that smirk off your face. Take four servants and two camels and travel to Rages to give Gabelus the bond. Bring both him and the money back with you to the wedding celebration." Tobias looked worried again. "My father is counting the days until my return, but Raguel swore to hold a fourteen-day wedding feast, and I can't violate his oath."

  Raphael rubbed his chin. "How do you know I'm not going to run off with your money? It's worth a lot more than my salary."

  Tobias looked glum. "That's a good point. I trust you, though. You're family."

  Raphael chuckled. "To some I would say trust family least of all, but for now that'll do."

  Tobias pointed at him. "It had better. I'm paying you."

  "Getting married made you a smart-mouth, didn't it? Enjoy the feast."

  Raphael followed the road again, this time with a larger retinue that included Gabriel in spiritual form. The traveling felt easier this time, whether because of the terrain or the company Raphael wasn't sure, bdut while the servants chatted among themselves with stories (both legends and anecdotes they'd witnessed in the family) Gabriel was often sitting on one of the camels, singing. Raphael would let Gabriel's voice shoot through him like pins and needles, a beauty that left him simultaneously homesick and yet glad to be here, right here. Any uncertainty from the past week evaporated on the road under the sun.

  In Rages, Gabelus approved the bond and turned over ten talents of silver, then loaded his own animals and servants and set out back to Ecbatana. They camped for their final night just outside Ecbatana, with eight days of the wedding celebration still to be held.

  "The trouble is," said Gabriel, sitting before the Seraph, "Tobit knows when his son should return. Time expires in five days."

  Everyone else had fallen asleep already, and Raphael sat near the banked fire. "The desires of Tobias's and Sarah's parents are mutually exclusive." He threw pieces of straw like darts through Gabriel's form.

  "Uriel sent word that Anna and Tobit are beside themselves." Gabriel snatched one of the straw darts as it passed. "I should go help them, but I don't want you to think I'm deserting you."

  "No." Raphael sighed. "You'll be waiting for me."

  Gabriel enwrapped him in his wings like a fog, then dissipated until he'd vanished, leaving Raphael with only a blessing and a hint of dew on his clothing.

  - + -

  At the end of the fourteen days, Tobias and Sarah departed with Tobit's money, plus the property and the entourage Raguel insisted on sending with them. They made much slower progress than on the outgoing trip, and Raphael grew frustrated by both the non-urgency of their crew and the urgency of Gabriel's reports: Anna was sure Tobias was dead, and Tobit blamed only himself if the worst had happened.

  When they reached the city of Kaserin, therefore, near Nineveh, Raphael suggested that he and Tobias go ahead to prepare Tobit and Anna for the shock of so many people. They parted with the company, the dog trotting behind them.

  With Tobias's home in view, Raphael said, "Do you remember the gall?"

  Tobias shrugged. "Sure, it's still in my pack. You said it helped heal the blind, so I figured I'd give it to my father."

  "Good." Raphael shook his head. "But you need to know what to do with it. Smear the fish gall on his eyes. The cataracts will shrink and peel off, and he'll see again."

  Tobias redoubled his speed, and Raphael hurried to keep up. From the house, Anna shouted, and in moments, Tobit had opened the gate to stand at the road. From the roof, Gabriel watched.

  Tobit and Anna swamped Tobias in a hug. "Thank God in Heaven you're safe!" Anna was sobbing. "I thought you were dead. I was so scared."

  Tobit said, "What happened that made it take so long? Did you get hurt?"

  Gabriel sent to Raphael, Clever. The money isn't with you.

  Raphael replied, God sent me to test him. You think this is a pass?

  Gabriel winked at him.

  Tobias said, "I want to show you—No, wait, I want you to see."

  Tobias blew into his father's eyes, then smeared on the medicine. Tobit gasped, and Anna exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

  "It stings," said Tobit.

  "This will help," Tobias said. "Strength, father. Azariah told me about this."

  Tobit rubbed his eyes, and Anna gave him a cloth to wipe the tears streaming down his face. Then, as Tobit blinked, his head jerked up, and he gasped, head whipping around. He looked at Anna, then at Tobias, and then he lunged for Tobias and hugged him tight enough to take his breath away.

  "Thank God," he whispered. "Thank God."

  Tobias was beaming. "Wait! There's more!" So Tobias told them about Sarah and Gabelus and Raguel.

  "What are we waiting for?" Tobit said. "Let's go to the gate and meet them!"

  Tobias grabbed his mother by the hand, and they headed off.

  Raphael stayed by the wall of the house. "I'll wait right here, then."

  Gabriel flashed to the wall beside him. "Good job."

  Raphael reached toward Gabriel's wing. "And now I can come home."

  Gabriel raised his feathers out of reach. "Absolutely not. You've fulfilled the letter of the law, but not the spirit."

  Raphael squinted.

  "You have to tell them who you are." Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Or would you rather return in a hundred years to discover a temple to the traveling fertility god Azariah?"

  Raphael grimaced. "You make a persuasive argument. When might be a good time?"

  "They're going to have yet another wedding feast (it's been a long time since you've attended one of those, right?) only this one is a mere seven days. See what happens when they offer to pay you."

  Raphael gave a mock-worried look. "You think I didn't earn my drachma-a-day?"

  Gabriel shrugged. "Let that be his final test."

  Raphael nodded. "That sounds all right. There's nothing pressing my return."

  "Except me, but I'll wait." Raphael shot a happy look at Gabriel, who smiled dryly. "It's interesting to walk through a city I know will be destroyed."

  "Are you always this grim, or is it only the prospect of another seven days of wedding feast?"

  "A combination thereof." Gabriel slipped down from the wall. "But I'd rather stay with you."

  - + -

  At the end of the wedding celebration, Tobias called Raphael from the house, now streaming with light and free of dust. In the courtyard, Tobit was looking at the clouds, smiling as if he still couldn't believe how God had blessed him.

  Taking a full breath, Tobias began. "Azariah, I know what we agreed to pay you, but listen." He took Raphael's hand. "You're family, and you've saved my life, saved my father, showed me how to save Sarah—money is an insult after all that."

  Raphael squinted. "Go on?"

  Tobias said. "Money is an insult, and it's not a fair repayment, but it's pretty mu
ch the going rate in this world." He laughed. "So I want you to take as wages half of all you brought back."

  Behind Tobias, Gabriel nodded.

  "You have to thank God," said Raphael. "Give Him the praise and the glory. Always acknowledge the good things He did for you. A king's secret is prudent to keep, but the works of God should be made known everywhere."

  He shook his head to bring down the Seraph-fire, and Gabriel moved within his heart to help him. "Let me tell you the whole truth." Raphael collected himself, closing his hand into a fist through Gabriel's. "Now I'm not going to conceal anything from you. When your father and your wife prayed for death, I was the one who presented and read the record of your prayer before the Glory of the Lord." Raphael swallowed hard as comprehension dawned first on Tobias's face, then on his father's. He turned to Tobit. "I did the same thing when you used to bury the dead. When you prayed, God commissioned me to heal you and Sarah." They were both looking stunned, so he said, "I am Raphael, one of the seven angels who enter and serve directly before the Glory of the Lord."

  Is that clear enough for you? Raphael thought to Gabriel.

  Gabriel coiled around his heart, cool and strong.

  A very pale Tobias and Tobit took a step backward. Tobit dropped to his knees, but Raphael took him by the hands and drew him back to his feet.

  "Don't be afraid, and don't kneel to me," Raphael said. "Thank God now and forever. As for me, when I came to you, it wasn't any whim on my part, but God's will. So continue to thank Him every day. Praise Him with song!"

  That was the first moment Raphael wondered how exactly he was to make his exit, so he decided to take a page from Gabriel's visit to Samson's parents. "It's time for me to ascend to Him who sent me."

  "Azariah," Tobias said, grabbing his hand, "please stay."

  Raphael shifted his hands around Tobias's and squeezed. "I shouldn't."

  "Oh, Azariah—Raphael—thank you. Thank you for everything." Tobias hugged him tightly.

  "I'll pray for you," Raphael said.

  Tobias backed away and Raphael rose into the sky.

  Tobias called to him, "Can we tell people?"

  "A king's secret is prudent to keep..."

  "All right, all right!" Tobias beamed. "I'll write everything."

  Raphael flashed the boy a smile, then flew high over the city. Father and son continued looking upward for a while even after they no longer could see him, until Sarah came to them and asked the men of Nineveh why they were looking into the sky. Tobias went to her side and told her what had happened.

  Gabriel saw this and decided it was good, and he returned to the Glory of the Lord.

  Irin

  614 BC

  Yoram's voice broke while he stumbled through the ancient words. Parchment crumbled beneath his fingers every time he unrolled the teacher's scroll to its next column, and he dared not think about the words he pronounced. Instead he concentrated on the individual syllables. In the name of the Holy, in the name of the Deep, in the name of Sheol…

  He hesitated just long enough to hear shouts: an army. Babylon. Nineveh falling.

  Yoram's voice cracked again as he continued the incantation. Yes, Nineveh had conquered Israel and deported the entire population, but that was so long ago; now Nineveh was home. But Babylonians destroyed whatever they touched. He needed help. Nineveh needed him.

  Yoram had to keep changing the incantation from "we" to "I" because he was the only one there, and apparently whoever wrote this expected there to be two or more. But finally he reached the end of the scroll, and there Yoram hesitated before the last character. A seal. A pictogram. How was he supposed to pronounce that?

  He traced it in the dirt of the floor with his finger, and he did his best to whisper the word. "Irin." What he was summoning would hear it anywhere. "I summon and promise myself to you."

  Both lamps blew out in a wracking wind, and a light seared from the scroll.

  Yoram braced himself against the table, forcing himself to stare into the glow. "I bind you to me," he warbled, his voice simultaneously a man's bass and a child's soprano. "I command you."

  "Did you really just say that?"

  The sound reminded him of lightning. Not thunder's dark roll as much as a starkness that left his hair standing on end. Yoram gulped. "I said the words. I made the promise."

  "And I wish you hadn't," said the light.

  A second light took shape, and in that moment, the room screamed with the wrench of metal twisting, the hollowness of loss and bewilderment and a raw, raw grief. For a moment the world couldn't bear two lights, but it struggled to contain them both.

  "You?" exclaimed the first light. "But—"

  "What have you done to yourself?" said the second. "This is what you've become?"

  "Get out of here," said the first. "I answered. I showed up. This isn't your concern."

  "It's absolutely my concern," said the second. "You're the one who should be leaving."

  Yoram looked from one to the other, then again. "I only called one! Who are you?"

  "I am the one you summoned," said the second light.

  "I'm the one you summoned," said the first.

  Between the two of them came a wrenching agony, that of the world cored out and its seeds spilled.

  Yoram looked at the sigil on the parchment. One sign, but it did seem now to be symmetric. Maybe it was two?

  The first light sounded incredulous. "Are you crazy? You didn't even know what you were calling?"

  The second said, "Begone, demon!"

  The first said, "Demon? Aren't you even ashamed of yourself?"

  "I have nothing to be ashamed of. Of course I'm staying," the second said. "I didn't expect you to obey."

  The first sounded irritated. "You shouldn't have expected me to let you win."

  The angels crackled where they touched like storm fronts, but the air smelled more of fig blossoms than ozone. Yoram struggled to remember everything he'd ever heard about magic, words whispered by aged men or creaky grandmothers. You had to get authority over the spirit. So simple-sounding: use its name and give commands.

  "Silence!" Yoram squeaked. Both beings snickered. "Show me your forms. Lower your light."

  The angels regarded each other. "I will if you will," said the first.

  "We're bound by virtue of his infernal promise," said the second.

  The first said, "Half-bound. One soul, one promise. Two of us."

  Yoram said, "Enough! Show your forms. Now!"

  The first said, "Don't believe you're in control here."

  Despite their words, both figures dimmed until they appeared in recognizable shapes: tall, slender, vaguely androgynous, eyes and long hair flecked with gold. Each bore four golden wings and wore black, and each regarded Yoram with intent.

  "You're really young," said the first.

  "Not too young to commit," said the second.

  Yoram bristled. "Give me your names."

  The second's voice darkened. "Why do you ask my name? To make idols? Do you plan to worship me?"

  "No." Yoram swallowed hard. "I control you, not the other way around. Who are you?"

  The second said, "As you wish. We are Irin."

  The first shimmered uneasily. "We are not Irin."

  Irin. Yoram looked again at the scroll, struggling to remember his Hebrew lessons. Twin angels? Oh no—an incantation for two people to recite. No wonder he'd gotten two. He'd called one, but both heard.

  The second said to the first, "I heard how your master gave you a new name after you left me. But we both know what you really are."

  The first said, "You're the one who left."

  Yoram said, "Wait, one of you is fallen?"

  Despite standing with folded arms and a cocked head, the first seemed afraid and wouldn't look away from the second. "Think about it, Kid. You summoned us using a scroll of Solomonic magic that you stole from an old man who shouldn't have had it in the first place. What did you think was going to appear?"


  Yoram looked from one to the other, heart pounding. Now he really needed to get control over both of them. He didn't know much about adversaries, but you didn't want them out of your authority. "By the authority of God's name, I command you to obey me."

  Neither Irin moved. Good start. But even just standing there, the twins' spirits tore at one another, pushing reality sideways from itself, each vision on a separate axis when they should have been one. True twins: they resembled each others' forms, but what felt more identical were the spirits. The same abilities, desires, dreams—and yet one had fallen and one not.

  Now that he knew to look, Yoram detected differences. The air sparkled around the first one's ears like precious stones. The second one's garb seemed plainer, like a soldier's. The soldier-angel kept its gaze under strict control, its face set. The first seemed uneasy—no, worse than uneasy: horrified. Skittish. And as Yoram studied the pair, he had a sense that one was female and the other male.

  Yoram said, "Babylon is attacking Nineveh. I want you to destroy the Babylonian forces and save the city."

  The first said, "No!" and the second said, "Yes."

  Yoram turned to the first. "You can't refuse. You are under my authority!"

  The first said, "God condemned this city."

  The second said, "God has condemned this city before. Remember Jonah? In His Mercy, he will spare the city again because of Yoram's prayer."

  Again the vertigo, the tension of metal-on-metal.

  The soldier-angel sneered at the first. "Your forces caused this, Freak. No wonder you want to destroy it."

  Yoram said to the first, "So you're the demon?"

  "Of course he's going to say that," said the freak-angel. "But it's God's will that this city fall. That army has to come."

  The soldier said, "Quiet! I've seen God's face, and Yoram's call is His Will."

  The freak sparked the way contact with another person will spark if you've been touching wool. "You're taking advantage of him. He's just a child. Yoram," the freak said, "this is all to a purpose. If Nineveh falls to Babylon, Israel may eventually return to its homeland."