Mikal shook his head slowly as though denying something.
Guilt? Marc wondered. Responsibility?
“Heaven’s ranks are not what you think or hope them to be,” Mikal answered finally, his eyes flat and emotionless. His voice seemed odd as well – more detached. Admittedly, Marc had only known the Seraph for an hour or so, but something had just changed. “For centuries, we have held to a high standard of morality, admitting only those we deemed worthy enough to have their souls reside with us in immortal Heaven. Thousands upon thousands have been turned away, deemed not worthy and sent to Hell to pay for the blemishes on their souls.”
They all recoiled in horror, everyone but Birch, who looked out through flame-filled eyes and felt the fury building inside him – fury that was only partly his own.
“You fool! What have you done?” Kaelus-Birch said, shouting. He stood and positioned himself directly in front of the Seraph, who recoiled slightly, wings fluttering in alarm. “You have doomed not only your own existence, but that of every living creature in this world! Your negligence and elitism will be the cause of apocalyptic death and destruction on a scale you cannot begin to imagine!”
“They’re only mortals,” Mikal began.
Kaelus-Birch roared in fury and struck the Seraph across the face with a balled fist, sending the gray angel stumbling across the room. Mikal reeled and collided with a thick support pillar, then straightened and looked at the demon in anger and shock. His wings spread wide as he braced himself for a fight. The humans and denarae in the room watched the scene wide-eyed.
“The Mikal I once knew would never have uttered such a blasphemous betrayal against the Almighty and those whom He entrusted to your care,” Kaelus-Birch roared. “Uriel was right to cast down his sword, and you should have died before taking it up yourself. What happened to you, Mikal? I may have been imprisoned, but I still saw much of what went on in Lokka, thanks to Shaitan’s visits. Where is the angel who led the Epiphany to this world? Where is the Seraph who stood alone, sword and spear in hand against a thousand demons, all to protect a group of mortal children whose families had been slaughtered?”
Flasch leaned over to Marc without taking his eyes off the two immortals, and whispered, “What’s the Epiphany?”
“The first recorded arrival of angels to our world. It marked the transition between what historians call the Dark Ages and the Age of Lords,” Marc murmured, equally enthralled by the argument before them. “Centuries later, they returned, and it was they who inspired and recruited the first paladins, organizing the Prism to stand against demonic cults and eventually the unholy hordes that were preparing to strike against our world. Ancient texts mention they may not have been there with the full sanction of the Heavenly Hosts, but no one’s ever been able to verify that, until now maybe.
“Pay very close attention here, Flasch,” Marc said softly. “This is history in the making, and we’ve got trackside at the first meeting between an angel and a demon since the Merging War, and it’s between two of them that haven’t seen each other since the dawn of Creation.”
“You’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you?” Flasch accused.
“Why, yes, I am,” Marc said.
“I’m surprised you don’t have a stylus and paper out taking notes,” Flasch muttered.
Marc blinked and immediately began searching the room for an inkwell.
- 2 -
Mikal stared at the mortal shell before him, boring through the fire-filled eyes to the demon within. Even mitigated by the mortal host, Mikal felt himself drawn into shaishisii.[15]
Since the dawn of their existence, angels and demons had used the contest of shaishisii to determine who was the more powerful, and the lesser would naturally defer to the greater. Even angels within the same Choir could usually tell instinctively who was more and less powerful than they, but some were so evenly matched that shaishisii was the only way to determine who should yield to the other.
Beyond merely a contest to judge strength, shaishisii could be pushed further, and in some cases the more powerful contestant could dominate and control the thoughts and actions of the lesser. Mikal had used a lesser form of such domination to cause the mortals around him to ignore his presence when acting as the Angel of Death. Demons used the practice to force each other into abject slavery, creating what they called dishnara.
Millennia ago, Mikal had been friends with Kaelus and knew he was powerful, perhaps even more powerful than Mikal himself. The instinctive comparison didn’t seem to work as well between angels and demons, and no one had ever even considered engaging in shaishisii with one of their immortal opposites, lest he lose control over his actions to demonic impulses. Even Kaelus and Abdiel were considered too risky by Gabriel, who had forbidden them to try.
Still, Michael thought he’d had the measure of his friend. Now, however, being drawn in through the mitigation of the mortal host, Mikal found himself matching his power against the demon within, and what he found nearly staggered him.
Kaelus was more powerful than ever before! The sheer force of will emanating from the demon, even contained and subdued by the shell of mortal flesh he wore, was enough to easily overwhelm the Angel of Death. The backwash of that power rippled through Mikal’s āyus, and for an instant it was as though he was waking from a horrible nightmare.
Something faded away, and Mikal looked back on his recent activities and was both sickened and horrified.
“What have I done?” he whispered, looking desperately at Kaelus. The fiery eyes gleamed, and Mikal felt the weight of his transgressions press down on him like leaden weights. The very essence of his existence buckled beneath their oppressive weight, and Mikal fell to his knees, his eyes still locked desperately on Kaelus’s.
Images came to him then, memories of intense pain and suffering. He suffered the aftershock of remembered agony, and his body felt as though it were being rent asunder. Mikal had never known pain such as mortals experienced it: mere bruising, broken bones, torn and bleeding flesh, burning, suffocation, drowning, disembowelment, and more. The tide of sensations threatened to drown him completely, until at last he managed to tear his gaze away from the flames.
Mikal found himself panting heavily on the floor, and still he could feel the lingering pain in his body, like a physical memory embedded in his immortal flesh from a past experience. He looked at Kaelus again, fearful of meeting his eyes, but he forced himself to look into the flames again. This time he felt nothing – the experience had seared through him and left him anesthetized to further affliction.
“How much did you suffer, my old friend?” Mikal asked.
“Not I,” Kaelus replied, using the mortal’s body. “I was too dangerous to risk torturing, for fear I might overpower my assailant and escape. The man in whom I reside, the mortal shell that has protected me, was trapped in the pits of Hell for six years of our time. If ever you’re tempted to think of mortals as frail, I suggest you think back on what you’ve just felt and ask yourself I you could have endured the same.
“Most people, looking into our eyes, see only a glimpse of what he endured,” Kaelus went on, “but you established a form of shaishisii with both of us, so you tasted a more complete experience. Be thankful we didn’t complete the link.”
“I saw the face of Shaitan,” Mikal murmured in fear. “He has met the Dark One.”
“As have I, Mikal,” Kaelus confirmed, “and while I cannot claim to know the mind of Evil, He has given me considerable insight into the workings of Creation itself and specifically to this war. I don’t know how much He has foreseen, but I know you and I both will have critical roles to play in the days to come.”
Kaelus extended a hand to Mikal and helped him back to his feet. They clasped only forearms and carefully avoided extensive contact with each other’s flesh.
“I need to know if I can count on you, old friend,” Kaelus said. He looked searchingly at Mikal’s face, seeking some sign of the former menticide. “You
weren’t yourself before, that much is obvious. Someone or something was influencing you without your knowledge, and that scares me.”
“It was Maya, who rules Heaven since Gabriel’s demise,” Mikal said grimly. “Only she would have the power to affect me thus, and so subtly. I never even realized her touch was in my mind.”
“I never liked that rosy-winged witch,” Kaelus grumbled under his breath. He looked at Mikal intently through his mortal host’s eyes. “I need you to be on your guard against external influence, and I’m going to need your support when we all get to Heaven.”
“To Heaven?” Mikal exclaimed. “How? You may be able to translocate there through the Binding, and maybe even that one,” he said, nodding toward the half-angel, Danner, “but these others? They are mortals and cannot ascend save through death.”
“The Merging was weakened enough by Mephistopheles that his armies were able to cross,” Kaelus said, “and now it barely exists since Hell has moved on. What of the Binding? Might mortals now be able to cross?”
Mikal frowned.
“No mortal has used the Binding in millennia, at least,” the Seraph said. “It was designed to keep mortals from crossing into Heaven, not to keep us from coming here or returning.”
“No doubt the same mentality that led to your accursed mission,” Kaelus grumbled. “Should it surprise me that no one thought to simply come here and ask the mortals for help? Work to release the stricture on the Binding, or perhaps just find out if they could cross the weakened Binding whilst still alive?”
Mikal shook his head. “None of us are thinking clearly, it seems. I was sent to identify and kill as many virtuous mortals as possible without revealing my presence. Had it not been for that stricture, I might have wreaked even further havoc.”
The demon nodded. “I suspect it was more than that holding you back, Mikal, something I saw during the shaishisii. Looking within you, some part of you still knew what you were doing was wrong and fought to minimize the damage. Why else would you stalk one person at a time in different locations? You studied your quarry to ensure their suitability, and you hid your presence by attacking one at a time. Had you been fully out of control, you likely would have walked into this inn and tried to slaughter every living thing. Your subconscious inefficiency probably saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives.”
Mikal nodded shamefacedly, then looked at Kaelus in concern.
“I’ve been here for days,” the angel said, “and the Binding was no doubt weakened even before my crossing. Can we be sure it hasn’t disappeared entirely in the intervening days?” He was clearly alarmed at the thought of being trapped in Lokka, cut off from his own home and the war raging there.
“Oh, it still exists,” Kaelus said confidently. “The Merging still exists, albeit in a much weaker form. I can feel it, and if the one still exists then so does the other. We could cross there, but we’re not trying to get to Hell just yet. You were the first angel to cross the Binding during the Epiphany, and it touched off a new age of mortal history. Now you can lead them back across to Heaven to prevent the extinction of every living mortal in this world. Where were you when you crossed?”
“Show me a map, and I will guide you to it,” Mikal said confidently.
Chapter 10
Do you know why paladins feel the urge to cross the Merging? It is because I summon them, looking for a suitable champion, and your God allows it. How many of your best and most-deserving warriors have crossed and never returned? Hundreds? Thousands? Think on that when you contemplate your supposedly benevolent God.
- Satan,
“Dialogues with Satan”
(from the secret memoirs of Birch de’Valderat)
- 1 -
They heard Garnet coming a full minute before he opened the door to the Iron Axe. It began as a distant sound barely heard, but quickly grew until everyone in the common room looked about in perplexity, trying to place the noise. Finally, it grew loud enough to clearly distinguish a deep, resounding laugh. Everyone stared at the door, first in curiosity, then in shock to see the Shadow Company commander – normally reserved and focused – with tears streaming down his face as he held the door open.
Mikal entered the inn first through the proffered door, a confused smile on his too-perfect face. Birch, Danner, and Marc followed the Seraph, all of them chuckling. Flasch entered next, a broad grin on his face. Garnet entered last, wiping the tears from his face as he quieted his mirth.
Michael and Brican looked at each other in surprise, then turned to stare at their commander and friend. The group split up and dispersed around the common room, and Garnet came over to sit at the table next to them. By the time he got there, they seemed totally focused on their ongoing game of Dividha. Surprisingly enough, Guilian was at their table too, but somehow even sitting next to them he still maintained an aura of being shut off and distant from everyone around him.
Alicia, Moreen, and a denarae woman whose name Garnet couldn’t place were sitting with them, and they were each holding a few cards in their hands. Someone had placed a large mixing bowl from the kitchen in the center of the table, and the bottom was covered with various types of coinage.
Danner walked over and gave Alicia a quick kiss on her upturned lips, then she returned her attention to the game at hand.
“Who’s winning?” Garnet asked.
“Tough question to answer,” Michael answered without looking up. He frowned at his cards, then put them face-down on the table. “Moreen has won the most frequently, but Brican here has accumulated the most cash, even though he’s technically lost most of his games.”
“It’s a question of strategy,” Brican said, flicking a quick glance at Garnet. “The Hero’s Gauntlet versus Satan’s Gambit. Moreen has been playing heavily to win, and she’s been controlling the deck nearly every hand for the last half hour. So while she’s busy racking up the coins by winning, more people hedge their bets by betting to lose, and by larger and larger amounts as time goes on.
“Enter, me,” Brican said, writing down a number on a small slate he kept hidden from everyone around him. He dumped a fistful of coins in the mixing bowl in the center of the table.
“I’m making no secret of what I’m doing here,” Brican explained. “I’m betting to lose, and so far I’ve managed to get a crap hand consistently enough that I’m doing rather well for myself. I may have to give some of my winnings to Moreen at the end, though,” he added, winking at her. “Without her taking and winning the high road so much, the bet-to-lose pot wouldn’t be nearly as worthwhile. I almost feel like I owe her something.”
“You know, without a strong Hero-style player,” Marc said from a nearby table, where he’d been listening, “Satan’s Gambit can’t work. It just isn’t worth it.”
“It’s strategy,” Brican said.
“It’s crap,” Michael muttered. “I’m still convinced Brican’s using the Denarae Trump technique.”
“What’s that?” Marc asked. “I haven’t seen that in any of the rules or strategy books I’ve read.”
Michael turned to look at Marc, then rolled his eyes and sighed. Danner shook his head, and Garnet chuckled.
“What?” Marc asked, confused.
“We have got to get you out of those books more often, brother,” Garnet said. He turned around and shouted, “Janice! Come grab this booker and show him something of the real world.”
“Yes, sir!” Janice called back, throwing Garnet a mock salute.
Marc turned to look at Garnet in perplexity.
“You’ve obviously overworked yourself lately and strained that wonderful brain of yours,” Garnet said. “Go enjoy yourself for a while, Marc. That’s an order.”
Before Marc could reply, Janice appeared at his side and dragged him off toward their apartments.
“Oh, you’re a fine one to give that kind of an order,” Brican said. “I can’t wait for the day someone gets the chance to tell you to go, ah… enjoy yourself.”
&n
bsp; “Hey, yeah, when are you going to get a girl, Garnet?” Danner asked. “We were all talking about it the other day, and Flasch is starting to think you’re a little bubbly in the boots.”
“Flasch is what?” the Violet paladin called from across the room where he was sitting at a table with Deeta and a few of the denarae from his platoon.
“Nothing, Danner’s being an ass,” Garnet called back.
“Righto.”
Danner was grinning impudently at Garnet when the Red paladin turned back to look at him. While Garnet was pleased to see his friend enjoying himself for once – Danner’s mirth had often been a bit subdued ever since Trebor’s death, and recent events hadn’t helped any – he wasn’t terribly pleased at his friends treading all over such a frustrating issue for Garnet.
“Oh, leave Garnet alone,” Alicia said, elbowing Danner in the hip.
“He’ll meet the right woman eventually,” Moreen said, dealing out a final card to everyone at the table. “We just haven’t found her for him yet.”
“What is this, a conspiracy?” Garnet asked.
“We’re just looking out for the welfare of our glorious leader,” Brican said. He frowned at his slate, then wrote a number down and tossed his entire pile of coins into the bowl. Alicia whistled in amazement while Michael stared and Guilian scowled. The pile of coins in front of him was noticeably smaller than anyone else’s except Michael’s.
The final bets were made, and Brican smiled as he laid down a hand consisting of absolutely nothing worthwhile. He had no more than two cards in any of the five suits, no two cards had the same number, and his highest card was the seven of Beasts.
“You have a knack for amassing large piles of crap,” Michael muttered.
Everyone else turned over their cards, hoping against hope someone would outwit Brican. Moreen was the last to play down her cards.
“Okay, let’s see how much she beat us by this time,” Alicia said with a sigh. She looked at Moreen’s cards and did a double-take.
Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) Page 13
