Tail of the Dragon

by Timothy Reihm

  Chapter 32

  Maleyan walked down the marble hallway between four guards, one fore and aft and one on each side. The precise footfalls of his escorts echoed down the corridor in a fixed rhythm. He realized he had fallen into step with them and paused just long enough to allow his stride to alter, creating discordance.

  They were, of course, Seraphim, under Barman's command, but he could not distinguish their auras. In fact, he had been unable to see any other angel since returning, in restraints, to the Eternal City. It was a terrifying new reality of his life as a prisoner.

  The passageway terminated at a pair of golden doors, which swung open as they approached, spilling light at their feet. The guard leading their procession broke sharply right and he continued alone, suddenly unaccompanied, into the circular chamber. There, seated at a simple glass table, was Quemel.

  Their eyes met and held. He instinctively tried to reach out to his oldest friend and mentor, but found he couldn't read him or his thoughts. Like his auragraphic perceptions, this ability was no longer available. He was no more aware than a mere telmid and felt just as helpless.

  Maleyan took the open seat opposite Quemel. His friend hadn't changed. There was no depreciation in that confidant gaze, no look of resolution on his angular face. In fact, he looked strangely contented.

  Quemel's hands rose slightly above the surface of the table, fingers waving almost imperceptibly. I have a way out of this. I have an army ready to free us and the Kingdom.

  Maleyan looked around the room, noticing that they were not alone. Barman and Hasdiel, the celestial scribe, were whispering nearby. They hadn't detected the signals. Even if they had, he realized, they would be unable to decipher the message.

  He remembered how insistent Quemel had been, back on Apenia, that they create a secret means of communication not dependent on psycophonics. It had seemed, at the time, like a paranoid requirement. Now, he was thankful for his mentor's intuition.

  Quemel's hands moved again. Remain silent. No exceptions. Remain silent. Maleyan sighed and signaled his obedience. It was a relief to follow orders again.

  Barman and Hasdiel turned and approached the table.

  'We are here today to address a horrible crime. Quemel and Maleyan, you are charged with the murder of Bol, a native under your charge during your tenure on Apenia. You are charged with conspiracy to undermine the Kings and their laws. Maleyan, you are further charged with the murder of Eltoth, Sitter of the High Council of the Yolenes on the planet of Yabler. And also with an attack on the rightful representatives of that world.'

  Barman finished relaying the charges and turned to Quemel.

  'Quemel, of Choir Cherubim, how do you respond to the charges against you?'

  Maleyan looked at his old friend whose eyes starred straight into his own, resolute and determined. A long moment of silence hung in the chamber.

  Finally, Hasdiel placed a titrane volume on the table and began writing. When he finished, Barman turned and addressed Maleyan.

  'Maleyan, of Choir Cherubim, how do you respond to the charges against you?'

  He looked back at Quemel, reading the warning and accusation in those eyes. Fingers moved deliberately. Be strong! He clenched his jaw and starred at his own hands as he duplicated the sign.

  'Very well. You are committed to your obstinacy and treachery and there is no grace left for you. You are hereby sentenced to death. You are no longer worthy of the title of angel. Your names shall forever be attached to your heinous crimes and that damnation is yours forever. You are a bane and a curse, demons, harbingers of sorrow and woe. You will be consumed in the purifying fire of judgment one week hence. Celestial scribe, please make record of this proceeding. From this day forth, you will be permitted to speak with no citizen of the Kingdom. Take a few minutes to say your goodbyes to each other. They will be your last words to anyone.'

  Hasdiel completed his annotations and closed his book with an ominous clap. Together, he and Barman left the room, door banging shut behind them.

  As the reverberation faded, Maleyan opened his mouth to speak, but a wave from Quemel silenced him. They sat still for several moments. Then, something changed in the air. A shimmering bubble descended over the pair.

  'I had to make sure they can't overhear what I am about to say,' Quemel explained.

  'How did you do that?'

  'There are many things these fools don't know. That is just a small example. It sounds like you were busy while we were apart, but never mind that. I have much to tell you and little time. On the day of our supposed execution my army will strike. When you hear the trumpet blast, be ready to join the battle. They have you blocked, but I'll take care of that. I'm uncertain of the size of the force, but we must hit hard and without mercy. We use all means at our disposal.'

  'How did you manage to put together an army?' Maleyan interrupted.

  'I have had couriers transmitting information for months. We were recruiting, stockpiling weapons and developing strategies.'

  'Who is we? I couldn't find anyone willing to help among my old friends.'

  Quemel smiled. 'You never understood the importance of gathering secrets. I have acquired many through the years. That allows me to do many things, including raising an army. Besides, our cause is just and our truth makes us too strong to be controlled. Our enemies are soft. They suppress anything that could make them strong.'

  'So you are training others in the use of dark energy?'

  'To a limited degree. You never give away all your secrets, but I've shared enough to insure victory.'

  Maleyan was amazed. He had spent months pleading, running and failing. After that creature had fallen to her death, he fled Apenia. Quemel tried to tell him that wasn't the way, but, for once, he hadn't listened. He'd been wrong. His mentor had accomplished all this while imprisoned in Mount Kol itself. For the first time in months, he smiled.

  Quemel, noticing, asked, 'Why are you smiling?'

  'I recently spent a long night crawling through underground tunnels and jumping at my imagination. I should have listened to you,' he replied.

  Quemel acknowledged the compliment, then looked quizzically at him.

  'You couldn't find any sympathizers on the worlds you tried?'

  'Oh, there were plenty who believed in our cause, but none willing to commit themselves. Which makes me wonder who you can be so certain of your army?'

  'I let it be known that I have records of all sorts of reprehensible behavior hidden throughout the city that will come to light should they fail to fulfill their obligations.'

  'How did you manage that? What if the documents fall into the wrong hands?' Maleyan asked.

  'Do you remember the piece I composed during the Grind investigation?'

  Of course. You turned all of the records into a musical piece that you played for the investigators. You confessed and they thought you were just a horrible composer. It did sound truly awful,' Maleyan laughed.

  'Well, unless the arella who finds it knows the cypher or is a musical genius, it will be nothing more than a collection of dreadful compositions. But only you and I know this.'

  'And where do you have this treasure hidden?'

  'In various locations, but a majority are at the estate of our old friend, amongst his vast collection of sheet music. He is, of course, completely unaware of this fact. And though he fancies himself a musician, we both know that he is a novice at best. It is way beyond his abilities musically, as well as mathematically.'

  The doors slid open, interrupting their conversation. Instantly, Quemel let the barrier dissolve and the two returned to stony silence. A retinue of guards entered the chamber and surrounded each prisoner. Maleyan looked over at Quemel who gave him a last sign- Be strong.

  He smiled at his friend and was led away.