The door to the room opened as a larger incubus in studded leather with blue-black hair and a goatee stormed inside. He glared at Gavin, who was being restrained futilely by Axaniel. "What in Hell's flames is going on in here? Why does he keep screaming that?"
Axaniel tightened his arms around Gavin's chest, keeping the screaming incubus's arms pinned against the chair. "I don't know. Is it a name or something?"
Stephan's slanted orange eyes narrowed devilishly. "Yes. The Ka'taylin."
"The half dragon one?"
"The same."
Axaniel grunted as he shoved a large syringe deep into the side of Gavin's neck and injected the bluish liquid. "But I thought he had been eluding you for years."
"Well, if you can't find a single fish, what do you do?"
"Drain the pond?"
Stephan leaned against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. He licked his fangs until they shimmered in the lantern light. "No. You poison the pond to kill every last fish you can find."
"Meaning?"
"Are angels taught anything about genocide in Heaven?" Stephan asked with one eyebrow raised.
"You're not saying-"
"Yes, Axa. That is exactly what I am suggesting. After all, we cannot have those rune-skins leashing all of Eternal Eclipse's demons, now can we? I want the correct rumors to be spread to the correct places. Taverns, temples, plazas. Tell them of the false atrocities of those people. Hold on. I've got an even better idea. The ships that the demons used to attack Krenoa Island were Ka'taylin, right?"
Axaniel grinned. "I see where you are going with this. And I approve."
"Good." Stephan strutted up to Gavin, who had fallen into a fitful sleep. He took his covenant partner's chin in his hand and turned his head from side to side. "Sleeping finally, eh, darling? Well, I do hope you enjoy your momentary respite. I have big things planned for you, starting with that baby dragon of yours. Every dragon needs a mate, don't you agree? Sleep well, Gavin. I have a race of people to wipe off the face of the planet."
* * *
After a disappointing day of searching for Jaylen, Leader, and Zeriel, Jeremiah landed outside his tent near the training field to find all of his angels huddled in a quiet group near a smoldering bonfire. The sky was cloudy with the thick black smoke that lingered between the ground and the bright stars of early evening. The soldiers and recruits were standing in lines around the clearing, all at attention and all silent. If Jeremiah didn't know any better, he would have sworn it was a funeral pyre.
Before anyone noticed his presence, Jeremiah walked up to the group of his angels and tapped one on the shoulder. "What's going on?"
The angels jumped like they had done something wrong then formed a semi-circle. Each of them avoided eye contact, but stood with their wings slightly raised and their fists over their hearts. Something was going on.
Jeremiah counted them to find one missing. "Where is Dimtriel? Someone tell me what is going on immediately. What's with the fire?"
One of the angels with blue wings stepped forward from the sullen group and held out a single long yellow pinion feather. "You should have this, Commander."
Jeremiah took the feather with a shaking hand and brought it to his nose. He knew each of his angels by their unique scent. The earthy sweetness told him it was Dimtriel's feather. "What has happened to Dimtriel?"
"We flogged him as you ordered, sir. One hundred lashes."
"And?"
The angel looked back at the rest of the group for support, but they all simply stared down at the ground. A cold wind swirled around them all, causing their feathers to rustle in the silence. It was the only sound that broke the tension, but it was not enough to hide the angels' nervousness.
Jeremiah looked from one to another, scanning each of their faces for answers that they were more than unwilling to give. A sinking feeling grew in his stomach as it became all too clear that something horrible must have happened for all of them to behave the way they were. He cleared his throat then lowered his voice as he repeated his question, this time with more deliberate force. "Where is Dimtriel?"
The same angel with the blue wings who gave the feather to him mumbled something under his breath. "He died."
"Excuse me?"
"Dimtriel succumbed to his injuries and perished a few hours ago in the healer's tent."
"Is this some kind of joke?" Jeremiah asked, somehow clinging to the possibility that all of his worry might be for nothing. "Have you common angels taken up the human custom of joking and humor?"
"No, sir. We would never make jokes about something so grave, sir."
So it was true? "I don't understand. No Holy Angel could die from a simple flogging, much less one of Heaven's Guardian Angels. This is puzzling and . . . beyond regretful. If I had known . . . Never mind. Take me to the body."
"His body has already been burned, sir." The blue-winged angel said quietly. "That single feather is all that was kept."
"And his soul?"
"What do you mean, sir?" The blue-winged angels asked. "His soul was sent to Purgatory."
Jeremiah tapped his fingers against his chin. This was an interesting yet disturbing development. "No souls are being accepted into Purgatory at this time. Tell me someone traced his soul."
"I did."
"And?"
"It was captured and destroyed."
Jeremiah growled as his furor only grew. "If someone doesn't come clean and fully explain to me what is going on this instant, I will have each of you flogged as well!"
A younger-looking angel with pink wings and fluffy golden hair stepped forward. The desperation was reflected in his voice. "The truth is that we don't know. We sensed his soul leaving, but then it vanished."
"It should have lingered and allowed me to harness it, to take it somewhere for safekeeping until Purgatory is reopened. I don't understand."
The angel with pink wings bowed a deep respectful bow. "Commander, please do not punish any of us for this. We only did as you ordered. It is true that we have no idea what is going on with Dimtriel's soul. We have no reason to deceive you. Interrogate us all you want, but you'll only get bloody and bruised angels who won't be good in a fight. We have no secrets, sir."
"Step back in line, Sacriel." Once the angel was back in line with the rest of them, Jeremiah placed his hands on his hips then began pacing across the frost-kissed dirt. "Listen closely to what I'm about to tell you all. I am truly sorry for what has become of Dimtriel. He was a good soldier, a wonderful guardian, and caring beyond what I have observed in many humans. He will be greatly missed. I don't . . . I . . ."
"Commander? Are you all right?"
Some warm liquid leaked from Jeremiah's eyes and trickled down his cheeks. He reached up to touch the foreign substance. What was happening? Looking around at the others, he noticed that they held the same surprise and shock as he did. Then it happened. Each of his angels exhibited the same symptoms. It was almost as if his eyes were watering from his allergies, but this was different. He couldn't stop it. The more he focused on the growing gnawing pain that filled his chest, the more the liquid poured from his eyes. Was he . . . crying?
"Commander, look!"
Jeremiah turned to where the angel was pointing to see Dystael, the blue-winged angel, doubled over in pain. "Dystael? Dystael, what is the matter?"
His question was soon answered when Dystael fell to his knees and let out a whimper. Three blue feathers drifted to the muddy ground. In their place, pitch black feathers grew. The other angels gasped and backed away from him. Some of them drew their bows from their backs, but none of them had time to nock a glowing arrow. One by one, they too collapsed in agony as their colorful feathers turned to black.
Jeremiah summoned his ethereal wings, only to gape in horror at what he found. Black. Swirling, misty black. There was a booming crack of thunder as lightning split the sky like the branches of a giant tree. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the white, purple, blue, yellow,
and green spheres of light streaking across the clouds. He wondered if it could have been mage-glow, but the light was too steady, too bright. It cut through he smoke and the clouds as it approached the ground. Then the first one landed a few hundred feet away, near the tree line. That's when he heard the first screams.
"Come with me!" He called out to his angels as he flew over the field and stopped near the crater at the point of impact. The tops of the trees had been snapped in half, splintered, and shredded as if by high winds. There, in the middle of the rubble, was the broken and lifeless body of an angel. From the amount of blood and the flashes of white bone that showed through the skin, it was clear the angel was dead and beyond saving. Orange feathers drifted down through the trees and came to rest around the area like slowly falling snow. Jeremiah began to panic as more shrill screams rang out through the forest. Flying up above the trees, he surveyed the damage and he covered his mouth in disbelief. Hundreds of craters dotted the field as far as he could see to the horizon in every direction. A blizzard of multi-colored feathers slowly descended as more bright lights sped towards the ground. Jeremiah had only heard of this in the Book of Holy Scriptures, but he instantly knew what this was. The angels were falling.
Chapter 7
The following afternoon, after the immediate emergency had been more or less taken care of, Jeremiah ignored the numerous questions from his angels that had been harassing him all day for answers as he stormed into the command tent where Nimiel was already busy collecting reports from the various birds that arrived with slivers of paper tied to their legs. "Give me a status update."
Nimiel, with newly blackened wings, shook his head as he scribbled some numbers in a log book. "The reports have come in quickly. Eighty percent of the Holy Angels have been thrown from Heaven and died. The ones who were already down here on Aldexa have turned into Fallen, black wings, mortality, emotions, everything. If I had to put money on it, I would bet that Carvael got rid of all the angels who didn't join Eternal Eclipse or who he distrusted."
"How many angels died in the fall?"
"Eight and a half thousand."
"Sola's flames!" Jeremiah removed his silver gauntlets then picked up a few of the yellow map markers from the table. He absentmindedly played with them as he tried to get his thoughts in order. "I was under the impression that Carvael had corrupted more than around one thousand to join Eternal Eclipse."
Nimiel pushed his sweat-slicked blond bangs out of his grey eyes and back up under the crown of black roses he always wore, then flipped another page in the book. "He did. But something must have happened for him to destroy all those who he didn't fully trust. He is thinning the numbers and keeping only the most elite and loyal members."
"Then that means that he is getting ready for an attack."
"More than likely." Nimiel took the map markers from Jeremiah and replaced them in the basket. "Stop fidgeting. What if your angels and my scouts see us with our feathers ruffled for no reason?"
"No reason? Nim, almost all of our angelic brothers have been killed overnight. If that's not a reason to panic, then I don't know what is."
"Brinx and I have this under control. She is out with my scouts and her spies. They should be close to Wolfekin by now. We will get answers from Queen Sela and Aiden one way or another. You know as well as I do that Wolfekin has to be involved in this some way. Queen Sela isn't one to shy away from taking advantage of a conflict. Once I receive a report from Brinx, we will make our next move."
Jeremiah watched the young seraph who was sweating and shaking as he went around the tent, frantically writing in the log book or sticking the map markers into the parchment. "Nim, how much have you slept recently?"
"Enough. I'm fine. Like you said, we have enough to deal with on our plates already."
"You are one of our highest ranking officials. You need to take care of yourself so you can do your job."
Nimiel hissed at him. "I'm doing my job just fine, Jeremiah. I'm having to work all hours of the day and night because no one is delegating the work to anymore. On top of that, I have been sending my scouts up into the mountains to follow Jaylen's trail. Without him, this entire thing falls to pieces." He stopped as the log book fell from his hands to the floor. He reached out and steadied himself on the corner of the table.
"Nimiel, this is serious. You are mortal now. You have to eat and sleep."
Nimiel took a few deep breaths then stood up straight. "Then you go search for our king. Oh, wait. You already did and you came back empty-handed. Everyone must make sacrifices for this cause."
"That doesn't mean you have to give your life because you choose to work over caring for yourself. Don't leave your scouts without a leader. We all need you."
"I already have a backlog of nearly four days' work. Jaylen left so much undone when he ran off."
Jeremiah slammed his fist against the parchment. "Damn it all. We need our leader. Has anyone seen King Jaylen?"
"I already told you, no. Leader is gone too. So is Zeriel. For all I know, they've gone off together to do something completely idiotic. The only person actually doing what they're supposed to be doing around this camp is Trevor, which probably surprises you just as much as it does me. He is close to finishing the construction of our forge. Then he will get to work on making our men some better arms and armor. That has been another of my many nightmares I've been sorting out. Do you know how awful it has been to get supply carts through those mountains? I would have them go around, but the snow is melting as the mage-glow grows brighter during the daytime. Where there once was a wheat field is now a swampy mess. Nothing is working in our favor right now, and I'm the one stuck dealing with it on my own."
"Why don't you go lie down for a couple of hours and let me take over? I'm fine. There should still be some stew and bread out there by the fires. Go get something to eat, Nim."
"We're equal rank, Jeremiah. You can't give me orders."
"No, but I can give you advice. You're barely sixteen years old. Let me take some of this pressure off of you."
Nimiel sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "Jaylen needs me."
"And you have done so much more than anyone else would have done. You've done well, Nimiel. Now it's time for you to rest."
Nimiel reached out to Jeremiah and took his arm, leaning most of his weight against him. "All right. Two hours."
"Four."
"Three."
"Deal. But make sure you eat first."
Nimiel slowly nodded his head before wearily shuffling out into the night. He was met with the host of angels who bombarded him with countless unanswerable questions, but he pushed past them without saying a word.
Jeremiah watched him through the tent flap, just to ensure that he wasn't secretly going to continue working on something out there. Then he turned back to the logbook and the map. Before he could get anything done, the tent flap was thrown open and a weary-looking Jaylen stumbled inside with dirt caked to his leather boots and splattered in his blond hair.
"I am here. Give me updates."
"Where have you been?" Jeremiah asked, both with concern and a slight twinge of reprimand.
"That doesn't matter. I saw the angels fall. I need details and I need a plan."
"Are you sure you're up for this? You know, being in your emotional condition and all?"
"My emotional condition?" Jaylen asked, running his hand through his hair and sending dried dirt to the floor. "My condition doesn't have anything to do with leading this country. I am your king, so you do as I say. This is clearly an emergency situation. Where is Zeriel?"
"We don't know."
"So he's not back, yet. He went to get Xair and Amari from Ka'tayl. Nothing to worry about. I'm simply surprised that Leader and I made it back before he did."
"Do you always speak of your friends behind their backs?" The black-skinned man with white hair stepped into the tent. His purple eyes glistened in the ball of mage-glow.
Jaylen smiled widely. "Welco
me back from Ka'tayl, Xair."
"Thank you. Amari is in our tent. She seems to have caught a sickness during the flight back."
"I hope it's nothing serious."
Xair glanced down at the floor. "As do I, my friend. As do I."
"I will have a healer visit her tonight. We cannot lose anyone from something so trivial as a cold."
"She seems to have a fever and small red bumps all along her arms and legs. There was a disease that spread among my people when I was little that had similar symptoms. It wiped out all the children of two villages who lived too far out to get the proper medications. My mother stationed guards around my room to ensure that I didn't leave for fear of me catching it. I pray it is not that. Sometimes the medicine didn't work if it had progressed too far."
Jeremiah cleared his throat and turned away from them. He was overwhelmed by those same troubling feelings he was the day before. He couldn't let them see him like this.
"Jeremiah? Are you . . . are you crying?" Jaylen asked.
"Yes! Ever since the angels fell and I can feel emotions, I just cry all the time. How do humans live like this?"
Jaylen covered his mouth in a feeble attempt to hide his giggling.
Xair's stern face showed his lack of entertainment. "Jaylen, ignore the bumbling seraph. I have important things to discuss with you. There is someone else-"
Zeriel entered the tent with a mischievous smile across his lips. "Hey, we are back."
"What do you mean we?" Jaylen asked.
"Uh . . . I love you, Jay. Don't hate me."
"What did you do? What in Aldexa did you do?"
Angel of Darkness Books 6-10 Page 30
