"Terminal? What are you saying?"
"Incurable. Inoperable. Lethal. There is nothing I can do. There is nothing anyone can do. Judging by his sudden deterioration, I would say that he doesn't have long."
Zeriel started trembling as he placed his hand over his heart. "How long?"
"Jaylen Corrifus will be dead before he turns twenty. Two years. That is being generous."
"What do we do?" Trevor asked, smoothing his son's brown curls. "Can we still use him against Carvael? Dead kings can't rule kingdoms."
Zeriel's face turned red with anger. "How dare you?"
Trevor rolled his eyes. "How dare I what?"
"We can't use him. He's not a sword or a trebuchet. He's a human being, a human who is very close to my heart. I love him."
Jeremiah and Trevor were silent as Cael made tiny cooing sounds and played with his father's beard.
Zeriel continued. "And another thing. I don't want to hear about how you think he's going to die or how he's losing his mind. I messed up, okay? I was dealing with a lot back then that I was struggling to cope with myself. I made a mistake and now I don't know how to fix it."
"What did you do?"
"Jaylen is dying because of me. It's all my fault."
"What did you do?" Jeremiah repeated.
"I hid the demonic mark on Jaylen's back and told Oviel that he was pure so he would perform the soul awakening. I knew the entire time that Jaylen wasn't ready, that he had the potential to be corrupted. And I made Jaylen do it anyway."
Jeremiah looked stunned. "Why? By Sola's rays, why would you do something like that?"
"I don't know. I was scared."
Trevor clutched Cael to his chest then turned towards the tent flap. "I am taking Cael to his mother and I will be back to see what my warlock magic can do to slow Jaylen's deterioration."
Jeremiah waved his hand. "Fine. I do not normally condone the use of your magic, but I fear more harm will come of Jaylen's corruption than of your spells. Hurry back." After Trevor left the tent, Jeremiah stepped up to Zeriel and placed his hand on his shoulder. "From one angelic being to another, you have my sympathies. I've never had a paladin to train and to care for, but I have helped many paladin souls who came to Purgatory. They love their angels with so much dedication and appreciation for every little thing they ever did for them. I know that the good things you've done for Jaylen have far outweighed the few mistakes."
"But one of those mistakes is killing him. I've been nothing but a mistake. Even to this day, I continue to fail him."
"Do you have regrets?"
"What kind of question is that?" Zeriel asked. "One of the ones you ask the souls in Purgatory? Of course I have regrets. How could I not? Everything I do or have done comes back to harm Jaylen. All I want is to keep him safe and happy. But I can't even do that. I'm a failure as an angel. Maybe my father was right. I shouldn't have been born."
"Don't say things like that. This attitude will not help our cause, and it certainly won't help Jaylen find something enjoyable in his last months of life. Face the facts, Zeriel. You and I both know that the odds of Jaylen's soul being eaten by angels, true angels, is nearly nonexistent at this point. Even though the church the he has denounced was the false one, he is still marked as an apostate. The demons will undoubtedly rip his soul apart and fill Hell with his screams before he finally finds peace. You don't want his last few months alive to be hell as well, do you?"
Never. "No."
"Then don't make them that way. You have to be strong for him. Jaylen needs you. Don't tell him he's dying. Let him be blissfully unaware when the time comes. It's better this way, trust me."
Chapter 15
Carvael opened the metal door to the experimentation room in his underground compound where Axaniel, Sulstair, and Stephan were working tirelessly with Gavin. According to all the reports, things were not progressing as well or as quickly as they should have been. How hard was it for an angel, a necromancer, and a Nephilim to put a soul into a new body? Apparently much harder than any of them first thought. He stepped inside to see all three of them passed out at a table with empty whiskey bottles piled up underneath their chairs. Gavin was curled up in the corner looking like a mess of scraggly red hair and purple blood that was seeping from multiple scratches on his pale skin.
Without delay, Carvael stomped up to the table then slammed his fist on it as loud as he could. "Is he making any recovery?"
All three of them jumped out of their stupor. Axaniel fell backwards, sending black feathers to the floor. Sulstair glared at Carvael from his orange-yellow elven eyes.
Stephan stretched and yawned then went over to Gavin and rubbed his covenant partner's hair. "A bit. He was able to take a few steps on his own. Though, he then held out his arms and began flapping them as if he had wings and expected to fly up into the sky."
"Odd."
"Very."
Carvael raised an eyebrow as he looked at Gavin's bare arms and legs where the incubus had drawn strange small pictures. "What is this?"
"Gavin, what have you done?" Stephan asked.
"Do you know what that looks like?"
"Don't say it."
Carvael grimaced. "Ka'taylin runes."
Axaniel started picking up the bottles. "Sulstair?"
"Yes?"
"Where exactly did you get this soul?"
"It was from Sammy. You know that. He had no Ka'taylin lineage or anything."
"Did you check it?" Carvael asked, growing more and more frustrated with their sloppy work.
"Check what?"
"The soul, you idiot."
"I didn't believe there to be a reason to perform such invasive measures." Sulstair ran his bony fingers over his long pointed ears. "But I suppose I can do it now if you're that worried about it. I swear, you people are too worried about things. Sammy's soul was in pristine condition and very powerful. I could feel it."
"Then check it."
"Fine." Sulstair pushed his long straight black hair behind his shoulders then rolled up the sleeves of his neatly-pressed shirt. He stretched out his hands to Gavin and closed his eyes as a dark mist formed and surrounded the incubus. Sulstair grunted then opened his eyes and the mist faded. "Huh."
"What did you find?" Carvael asked.
"You were right. I'm an idiot. At this point in time, there are one and a half souls inside Gavin's mind and body. The half is Gavin. The whole soul is Xair Korvin's."
"The Ka'taylin."
"Yes, the Ka'taylin. Damn it all. Sammy's soul is gone. Apparently, our Ka'taylin friend managed to put his soul into Sammy's body without anyone noticing."
Axaniel laughed as he finished off a bottle of whiskey then stretched his black wings out. "How ironic. A demon with a Ka'taylin's soul. Can we do anything with this?"
"I'm not quite sure yet." Sulstair took a small notebook from his pocket and began scribbling in it. "Give me some time to research it and perform some more tests. The soul of a Ka'taylin is a powerful one, especially if there are numerous demons leashed to it."
Stephan rubbed his black-blue goatee as he grinned darkly. "I bet Xair is having a difficult time keeping those demons under control without his soul."
"I have a feeling he has done something truly inconceivable." Sulstair mumbled under his breath as he wrote. "I believe Xair Korvin hid his soul inside Sammy so he could instead have the souls of demons in him."
"Clever move."
Carvael shook his head at Axaniel. "Powerful move, but foolish."
"Carvael, any word from the Ka'taylin?" Stephan asked.
"Xair Korvin refused to help open the Draconia Lexicanum."
"Even faced with slavery?"
"It seems that freedom pales in comparison to loyalty. Pity."
"Can't you just go get him and bring him here?" Axaniel asked. "We'll torture him into helping."
"What kind of angel do you take me for? Don't you think that I've already thought about that possibility? The truth is, I do
n't trust anyone but my senior officers to deal one on one with a Ka'taylin of Xair's power. And it's taking all of you in shifts to deal with our incubus friend here. You've already screwed this up. What makes you think I would deliver my prize fighter into your hands and run the risk of him not being returned to me in top shape? Some cuts and bruises from whips as a slave is one thing. A total mind wipe and whatever else it is you've done to Gavin will destroy a delicate Ka'taylin. You know nothing of their race."
Sulstair ripped out a page then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it across the room to the table. "They're immortal."
"Only when it comes to old age. That's it. No one is touching my hothouse orchid. Oh, and that goes for Jaylen Corrifus as well. I don't know who did it, but someone has been tampering with his mind as well. Cease and desist before I quickly and efficiently separate your souls from your bodies. Is that clear?"
The all spoke in unison. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Now get back to work. I have to go taunt my little orchid again."
* * *
The morning mage-glow turned to the bright yellows and whites of midday as Xair continued his search. He tore apart every inch of the house looking for anything of Dayxi's. His searching had yielded not much of anything aside from some scrolls of poetry, a book of translated ancient Ka'taylin runes, and three vials of an unknown glittering white substance that appeared to be a paste. The cabinets had been emptied, their contents strewn all across the floor, the table was overturned, and the water basin was taken apart. Xair should have given up, but something drove him to continue looking. He had no idea what it was that he was actually looking for, but he knew he did not dare stop.
Running out of ideas for hidden places, Xair went to his bed then fell backwards onto it, already exhausted. That's when he felt it. There was something hard and flat underneath the foot of the mattress where he normally wouldn't have noticed. He rolled over then lifted up the straw mattress to see the dented metal box with rusted hinges. It was light as he pulled it up and set it on the bed. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the lid. There was a strange small statue and a piece of paper inside.
Xair picked up the hand-sized clay figure that resembled the human form and examined it. Ka'taylin runes were carved into its back, but it was of a dialect that he was not familiar with. He set it down then unfolded the paper to see a sketch of a diagram for a similar clay person. The top of the paper had been written on. Soul Golem for Xair: Prototype Two. Purpose: The Storage and Quelling of Disembodied Demonic Souls.
For Xair? Xair had believed that Dayxi never thought of him after he left Ka'tayl. To know that his friend had been doing research to help him was comforting. To know that Dayxi knew about Xair's problem with the demons who no longer had bodies was unnerving. How did Dayxi know? Xair had not even began to practice that art of filling his own mind and body with demons and destroying their bodies until well after he had destroyed Ka'tayl. There was no way Dayxi could have known. Xair had only told Kato, and that was after Dayxi's death.
"I can help you with that if you'd like."
That voice. How did he get in there again without making any noise? "Go away, Caravel."
"That is not a nice way to greet a friend."
"You are not and will never be my bloody friend. Just leave me alone. I already told you that I'm not going to help you in any way. I don't care what I have to go through. You can't make me help you."
"Oh, but that's where you are mistaken, my Ka'taylin friend. I know so much about you and I can always find out more. I can discover what you hate the most. Then I can make all of your nightmares a reality. I can find out what you value more than anything on this planet. Then I can destroy them right in front of your face. But I don't want to do this the hard way. No. I would much rather compromise."
"The same way you compromised with Jaylen?" Xair asked, still studying the clay figure in the mage-glow that filtered in from the window. "Or with Vilyron or Krenoa Island? By slaughtering thousands of innocent men, women, and children? No, thanks. I don't do the mass killing thing."
"That's new for you, isn't it? Where was that conviction a thousand years ago?"
"That was a different case. I didn't want to do that. I was under your control. I am not a murderer."
"Oh really?" Carvael laughed and crossed his arms on his chest. "Tell that to the piles of corpses covering Ka'tayl. You were born and bred to be-"
Xair set the clay figure down. "Perfect. I was born and bred to be perfect."
"No, no, no. You have it all wrong. You were born and bred to be a killer. Everything in Ka'taylin culture is geared around pain, humiliation, and demons. They begin cultivating that inner hatred at that cutting ritual. You don't remember it being done to you, but I assure you that it had an impact on you. It opened the door for all the strict punishments, the intense pain from the runes seared into your skin, the coming of age ritual with the coals and the hole through your tongue, even your wedding day is bloody and painful when they cut out a chunk of your skin down to the bone to put that disk in. And think about it. During all of this, you work every day to hone your abilities to fight, to use magic, to summon demons, and to kill. You channeled all of that fear and suffering into making yourself more powerful. You needed that power more than anything in the universe. Face it, Xair Korvin. You were trained to be a murderer."
"So what?" Xair stood up and turned to face the archangel. "Maybe I was born and bred to be a killer. That doesn't mean I have to be one. What I've done in the past is in the past. I can be a better man than who I used to be. I will kill only those who need to be killed. And that starts with you!"
Carvael was too slow to dodge the bolt of electricity that snaked out of Xair's hand and seared through his arm. He drew his golden sword from his back and swung at Xair. But then he stopped and growled as he replaced his sword then grabbed onto his bloody and blackened wound. "You rune-skin bastard. I would kill you right here, but I need you too much. Good luck getting your soul back now."
After Carvael vanished into the air, Xair dropped to his knees from the sheer exhaustion of casting his magic. He had never experienced that before. It was draining and painful. Again, Krivel's high-pitched cackling echoed in his head. Xair grabbed at his hair. "Shut up, demon! Stop messing with my magic! It's not funny. I am your Ata-Lin. You must obey me!"
Krivel snickered. "You're the one on his knees."
The door to Xair's house was kicked open as Tapper and another slaver pushed a very young pure Ka'taylin girl without clothes into the room. Tapper forced her to Xair's bed then slapped her hard across the face. He grinned. "Xair, I think you know what to do here. Do your job. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." The slavers left, slamming the door behind them and locking it from the outside.
Still out of breath from his magic, Xair grabbed onto the cabinet and stood to his feet. He looked over at the girl on his bed who was pressed up against the wall as far away from him as she could get. She hid behind her hair and trembled. He held out a hand to her as he stepped closer. "I'm not going to hurt you. Zila ib'xen ale ne-itanu."
The girl peeked out through her long white bangs. "I don't speak that. I was born here."
"I see. Either way, you have nothing to worry about."
"They'll whip you."
"I don't care about my comfort. How old are you?" Xair asked.
"Nine."
"Nine? There is no way in Hell I'm doing this. Have you even had your first blood yet?"
"No, sir."
"You're still a child."
She nodded her head and held her knees to her chest defensively.
Xair watched the tears in her eyes and her quivering lips. He couldn't do that to her. It was sick. But he had to do something or they could punish her as well. He would take anything they dished out, but a little girl couldn't. Then he got a plan together. "Stay right there. Don't move. Don't make a sound. We're going to trick them, okay?"
"Okay."
Xair went to the table the
n found what he was looking for. A sharp quill pen. It wasn't the best thing, but it would have to do. Grasping it solidly in his hand, he placed the pointed tip against his skin then sliced through his arm inner forearm. He spread his blood over the girl's legs and the quilt below her. He knew it wasn't likely to fool anyone, but if there was any slight chance of getting out of this, then he would take it in a heartbeat.
After he was satisfied with his messy work, Xair wrapped his arm in a scrap of fabric then filled a wooden cup with water. He sat down on the bed next to the girl and held out the cup. "Drink. You look thirsty."
She hesitated at first, but she then gave a tiny smile and took the cup from him.
"So are your parents here?"
The girl finished drinking the water then wiped her lips on her arm. "No. They're dead."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"The big one with the scarred eye shot them. Yesterday."
Xair's heart ached. He wrapped the girl in his arms and brought her to his chest. "I am so sorry. That is horrible. I will do whatever I can to help you."
"I know who you are, Sultan Xair."
"Yes, that is me. I will help my people, all of my people."
The front door opened and Tapper stepped into the room. "Have you finished?"
Xair jumped up and bowed. "Yes, sir."
Tapper examined the blood then the girl. He turned to Xair. "Have you mated with anyone before? You have the disk in your hip that says you have."
"Yes, sir. I have."
"Then you have the basics down, right? You know what goes where and how it works, yes?"
Xair started feeling more uneasy. "Uh, yes, sir."
"So you are admitting that you deliberately disobeyed a direct order?"
He stared in horror at Tapper.
"Do you take me for a fool?"
"N-no, sir. Not at all."
"I gave you a chance to live a pampered life here, to have your own house, to not work with the other males, but you just lost those privileges. After you spend another day at the whipping post for your insubordination and deceit, you will be reassigned to the fields. They need plowing. Then you will be begging me to go back to being a breeder." Tapper yanked on the gold ring in Xair's ear, eliciting a pained whimper from him. "You look me in the eyes, rune-skin. I want this to really sink into your tiny dog brain. You follow orders or you die. I can bash your head against this doorframe right now then leave your rotting corpse for the buzzards if I want. No one would care. You are nothing. You are worthless. I care more about the mud on the bottom of my shoes than I do about you. What's wrong? Do my words hurt your pathetic subhuman feelings? Get used to it. Now, march to the whipping post."
Angel of Darkness Books 6-10 Page 38
