Uriel was silent for a long time, and Birch finally turned away and resumed his silent vigil looking out the window.
Finally, the Seraph said, “There is life here, Birch, but so sparse and tiny amidst the infinite vastness of Heaven that you’d never know unless pure chance brought you upon it.” Birch whipped his head about and regarded the Seraph with surprise. Uriel nodded. “There are places in Heaven where the taint of Hell lingers. We call them the Groves of Corruption, and you will not find them in any history book in the whole of the mortal realm. Few immortals even know of their existence. In these places, evil lingers and despoils the perfect goodness of Heaven, and they resist all attempts to overcome them. We can’t enter the Groves, and few can even see them. I’ve seen just three in the eons I’ve existed here, and from the outside at least, they look like a small forest from any part of your mortal world. Blink wrong, though, and they vanish from sight.”
“Where did they come from?” Birch asked in wonder.
“During the Great Schism, at the time when all was still Pleroma, large forces of demons and angels were killed on both sides of what was already becoming the dividing line between Heaven and Hell,” Uriel explained. “Occasionally when a large force of demons was slain on Heavenly ground, a Grove resulted as their taint seeped into the very essence of Heaven and defiled our half of the immortal plane. Nearly all of these seem to have faded with time, but it’s my opinion that the ones that have lingered came about from the destruction of a demon lord or prince.”
“And angels who died in Hell?” Birch prompted. Selti whined below him, but Birch was too enthralled to notice.
“The same, I imagine,” Uriel said. “We’ve never known for sure, but it makes sense.”
“Groves of Holiness,” Birch whispered to himself. “I wandered more than a decade in Hell and never even suspected such a thing.”
“There are few even here in Heaven who would tell you,” Uriel said. “Most of the angels who know of the Groves view them as strictly taboo, something to be ignored and forgotten.”
“Sort of like hybrids?” Birch said with a challenge in his voice. “Danner told me Mikal’s version of what happened, and I know much of the rest through my experience with Kaelus. Immortals trying to create half-breeds with mortals, with the denarae as the result.”
Uriel remained silent, his face unreadable.
“Half-immortals, that was your goal, wasn’t it?” Birch asked. “You wanted creatures like Danner was born and like I have become, at least at first. Were there other successes besides the denarae?”
“Yes,” Uriel replied with dignity, “but not on our side. The demons created the dakkans from dragon-stock, and millennia later we usurped them for our own ends. They unwittingly created the perfect mounts for a new breed of warriors devoted to God, the teiranon. The paladins.
“As for people?” Uriel shook his head. “At the time, the hybrids you’re suggesting, ones like you and your nephew, were impossible. It was tried, believe me. The angel heading the tests, Samyaza, tried everything from intercourse to blood-letting to find a viable method of hybridization. Mikal was adamantly against any experimentation with mortals, and I quickly joined my voice with his. I don’t deny that you and your nephew are powerful allies, and I don’t begrudge what you’ve become honestly, but we fought with every means available to see Samyaza’s experiments ended.”
Uriel’s shoulders slumped. “There were those who argued that the original test subjects, those whom you now call denarae, should be wiped out as well, and Mikal was foremost in their ranks. Suddenly he and I found ourselves on opposite sides of the sword, and ultimately I won the right to preserve their lives simply because I was the more powerful. They had no choice in their creation, and could not be held accountable for what they were.”
“The voice of justice,” Birch remarked quietly.
“Samyaza and his assistants even tried to restart his experiments during the time of the Epiphany,” Uriel went on grimly. “He claimed to have made some progress, and it took the threat of his destruction to force him to cease and return to Heaven. His few remaining test subjects were hideously deformed and begged for death, which was reluctantly granted. To my knowledge, none of his subjects survived his experiments.
“Now, it is forbidden to tamper so with mortals,” Uriel said firmly. “It is a sin.”
“And the punishment of such a sin?” Birch asked. His face was grim, and he knew already what the answer would be. Instead of answering, Uriel bowed his head and refused to meet Birch’s eyes. The Gray paladin nodded in understanding.
Tired of being ignored, Selti transformed himself into a small, gray squirrel and scampered up Birch’s leg. When he reached his paladin’s shoulder, the dakkan shifted to a long-haired cat and deposited himself firmly in Birch’s arms.
“He doesn’t normally flaunt himself in front of others,” Birch remarked with some surprise. “He must like you.”
Uriel frowned at the dakkan-turned-feline.
“Is that normal behavior for a dakkan?”
“It’s normal for Selti,” Birch grumbled in exasperation as Selti writhed to make himself more comfortable, but still he pet the cat in his arms. Selti purred in satisfaction and even Uriel’s somber mood cracked at the clearly audible thrumming sound.
- 2 -
Michael listened to the heavy thudding of demonic feet and quickly mumbled under his breath a few phrases he remembered from his training days to fight back the anxiety and fear building within him.
“Fear must be accepted and left behind. Use your fear, let it become a weapon. Courage does not defeat fear, it changes it to action.”
“Fear must be accepted and left behind,” he repeated again, mouthing the words until he felt himself once again master of his body and mind. Michael took a deep breath to steady himself, and he was finally able to listen to the stamping footsteps with equanimity.
“We take our lead from you, Michael,” Brican kythed seriously into the Yellow paladin’s mind. “I can feel everyone’s anxiety fading just from listening to your thoughts and the calmness you’re exuding. I’m impressed.”
Michael replied with a brief word of thanks, then closed his eyes so he wouldn’t be forced to stare at the white mass that engulfed him.
Three platoons of Shadow Company were embedded within the cloudy earth of Heaven, buried beneath two feet of soft material that nevertheless supported the weight of thousands of demons as they tramped by overhead. The sound was muffled by the puffed-up walls and ceilings of their tiny enclosures, but it was nevertheless unnerving to hear such an overwhelming number of demonic creatures moving by so dangerously close.
It was Garnet’s idea, of course, adapted from something Gerard had taught them what seemed like years ago. During the brief skirmishes against Merishank, Shadow Company had hidden within the trees of a nearby forest and lured the enemy soldiers inside. Once there, the denarae platoons pounced from hiding and eliminated the human soldiers to a man, leaving only their screams to tell of their fate. The woods were quickly shunned by the Merishank soldiers, and only reluctantly would they come anywhere near the forest that hungered for their deaths.
Now, a full two hundred paladins – both living and dead – waited submerged beneath the earth of Heaven with the three denarae platoons dispersed amongst them to coordinate the attack. The paladins knew nothing of the denarae kything ability, but they trusted the mystique of Shadow Company and the word of its paladin commander. Garnet was fast becoming something of a legend within the paladin ranks.
Michael grimaced at the thought. He knew Garnet loathed the praise being heaped upon him and what Marc called “human idolatry”. The Red paladin allowed some of the awe and wonder to continue because it helped protect the secrets of the denarae and increased his influence and ability to operate as he saw fit, but Michael saw the cost it took from his friend.
A reputation is only as good as the present example, and Garnet knows it, Michael thought
morosely. As that reputation grows, so must the reality grow to match it. Someday that reputation is going to stretch too far and reach too high, and it will fail. We can all see it, but we’re trapped by necessity.
Around him, Michael heard soft rustles as paladins and denarae shifted in their place of concealment. He cracked an eye open and glared at the loudest man, who immediately subsided. The others around him followed suit, and soon the only sound was the steady chaos of tramping feet overhead.
“It’s time,” Brican kythed, and Michael’s pulse immediately quickened. “Relay to all group commanders. Ready. Steady.”
“Get ready,” Michael ordered in a low voice, then repeated Brican, “Ready. Steady.”
The sounds above them changed to a sudden eruption of screams. “Now!”
“Now!” Michael shouted, and the twenty-four paladins and half-platoon of denarae with him erupted from the ground as it flowed away from them like water. They leapt from concealment and cut down surprised ranks of damned souls and demons that confronted them. A hailstorm of angelic arrows had swept through the demonic ranks the instant before Michael and the others emerged, and the demons were left shocked and confused by the sudden assault from above and below.
Paladins cut a quick swath through the thickest concentrations of demons while the denarae concentrated on the damned souls. Michael stayed with his half-platoon to deal with the odd demon they encountered.
“Michael, relay from Garnet,” came a kythe from Eshtin Seratol, Michael’s first squad leader. “Shift left and cover Marc’s right flank. I’ll be there in…”
Eshtin’s mental voice was cut off suddenly and a burst of pure agony ripped through Michael’s head and nearly brought him to his knees. Sparing only a thought for his slain squad leader, Michael called orders both verbally and mentally to his men. Within seconds, they had moved to Marc’s flank and arrived just as a wedge of thick-muscled damned souls charged forward. The denarae cut them to shreds in minutes, then Michael received word to disengage and back up the paladins again.
Overhead, angels flew in battle wedges and rained glowing blue arrows down into the melee. The bolts of heavenly power struck with perfect accuracy, and Michael’s life was saved more than once as a screaming creature was struck down from above before it could attack him. Waves of leather-skinned, flying demons flew out of the clouds to confront the angels, with hordes of the damned behind them. Once-mortal souls had been twisted into grotesque shapes with bat-like wings, and they crashed into the angelic ranks with little regard for strategy or their own safety.
To Michael’s eye, it almost looked like they were deliberately flying to their deaths.
Suicide soldiers? He wondered as he lopped the head off a land-based damned soul. The beastly creature didn’t even attempt to dodge the blow, it just charged headlong at Michael until felled by a swift stroke of his blade.
“Michael, help left.”
He immediately complied and saw a denarae hard-pressed by a drolkul and a damned soul who was almost as large as the four-armed demon. Michael swiftly stepped in and sheared off two of the demon’s arms in one stroke, then nearly sliced it in half across the chest as the screaming monster turned to confront him. The demon vanished in a cloud of black smoke, through which Michael lunged to impale the damned soul.
A paladin on dakkan-back swooped low overhead and cut down two creatures who were plummeting toward Michael. He waved a quick thanks to the unknown paladin, but the warrior was already speeding off toward another cluster of creatures threatening the skies.
Another call for help came, and Michael spun to answer the mental cry.
- 3 -
Kaelus received the reports from the field with a grunt. Through a tenuous link he still shared with Birch, the demon could feel his mortal counterpart’s frustration and anger. Kaelus sympathized, but spared only a moment of such thought for the man. Birch’s role was a necessity dictated by the tactics of their enemy, and he was the best man for the job.
For the past month, Kaelus had relied on Gerard’s assessment of Malith and continued advice communicated through angelic conduits. Gerard could see the same perfect contour map as Kaelus, and when the Sarim in Kaelus’s tent spoke, the demon could almost hear the mortal’s own voice with its roughshod language and harsh observations.
Still, there were differences. Hearing the words, “Damn those motherless bastards and the filth-laden, mongrel bitches their fathers spawned upon!” in the sweet, soft tones of a Sarim angel lost some of the pure feeling Gerard’s voice carried in person.
Based on the dead paladin’s tactical assessments, Kaelus kept Mikal and Garet mobile, using them for lightning strikes and to support the special operations of Shadow Company. Birch and Uriel, meanwhile, were to put up as strong a show of defense and retreat as they could manage – fortifying and holding wherever possible, but always pulling back a little further and always leading Malith’s forces in the same direction.
Ultimately, every force at Kaelus’s disposal currently fighting in the field was acting as nothing more than a decoy. Sooner or later, Malith would notice that he was being subtly herded by the ever-present temptation to destroy Birch’s forces, and he would examine the movements and attacks that took place elsewhere in Heaven.
Then his eyes would fall on the seemingly random, but always devastating attacks his forces suffered whenever they encroached on a particular area of Heaven. It was there that Shadow Company concentrated their attacks when not otherwise engaged, and it was there that Mikal and Garet struck with such force that they left no survivors to tell tales.
Sooner or later, that complete silence would shatter upon Malith’s awareness, and he would see the hidden promise of Kaelus’s command center, which was supposedly being protected under a veil of death and secrecy. Malith would then either swing his entire force that way or – more likely in Gerard’s estimation – try some sort of subterfuge to allow a breakaway force to approach as close as possible, then strike swiftly in the hopes of overrunning the command post.
Kaelus, of course, was nowhere near that perceived center of operations. His command was mobile and stayed on the move almost constantly. When and if Malith did strike the baited area, they would know long beforehand and appropriate steps would be taken to close the jaws of a massive trap that would annihilate whatever Hellish forces were sent.
The latest report from Gerard regarding his training camp was encouraging: in addition to training the dead who had never before wielded a weapon in war, Gerard promised an elite force of paladins culled from those he’d taken with him to assist in training. Even better news, though, was his update on the progress of their proposed trap.
“It’s not going anywhere near as swiftly as I might have hoped,” Gerard had reported only an hour before, “since there seems to be a surprisingly small number of dwarves and gnomes up here. Give us another two weeks or so and it will be everything I promised.”
Kaelus made sure no demonic forces reached a position where they could oversee the site of the trap, and he himself stayed clear of it, obeying some inner premonition that his presence there at any time might be disastrous. He had no reasons for the warning, which he felt was akin to what mortals called a “gut feeling”.
At the moment, Kaelus had settled in at the heart of Heaven’s weapon-making, the Anvil of Heaven. Here it was that Dem, perhaps the most powerful of the Dominion angels, plied his trade as the master blacksmith of Heaven. Dem was unique among all immortals in that he was not truly a “he” so much as a “them”.
Kaelus stepped from his tent and nodded at two pairs of elves who stood guard outside. One pair immediately fell in step behind him while the other remained to guard the tent. Signals were passed, and before Kaelus had gone a dozen steps, El’Siran had arrived and was at the demon’s side.
“We visit the Anvil,” Siran said as a statement of fact.
“I need to consult with Dem about an innovation Garnet passed on,” Kaelus said. “Flasch
came up with the idea of freezing Heavenly waters in the shape of arrowheads for mortal weapons, which might serve as devastating weapons against the demons. Arrows marked with the holy symbol do worthy enough damage, but arrows that strike with the watery essence of Heaven and unleash it within the demon’s body…”
Kaelus trailed off with a vicious grin.
Siran nodded professionally. “I’ve noticed that hot things stay hot here and cold things cold,” the elf said in a detached voice. “There is no true temperature here, so ice may stay ice if crafted properly.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Kaelus said, and they both fell silent.
Kaelus appreciated the elf’s verbal restraint. Too many mortals, he’d found, felt the need to fill silence, but not Siran. The elven commander was a warrior to the core and a man who had no room in his body or mind for frivolity. Necessity was a way of life for him, the way of a man who was complete in and of himself.
In the meantime, Siran’s silence gave Kaelus a chance to think away from the pressure of his command tent. In there, his mind was focused solely on the war and how he was going to stop Mephistopheles’s general. Away from the tent, however, his mind turned toward other, potentially more disturbing, matters.
Eons of captivity had given Kaelus little else to do besides observe mortal lives and contemplate his own thoughts. His observations of the mortals came at the hands of none other than Satan Himself, Kaelus’s only companion throughout the ages. Whether by coincidence or design, the toll of those long centuries upon centuries of conversation and contemplation were bearing fruit within Kaelus in ways he’d never anticipated.
And he didn’t think Satan had anticipated them either.
Kaelus was aware as never before that he possessed some of the same gift that previously was thought only to exist in mortals. He had free will, and he could choose the good or evil of his actions. Moreover, he had slowly come to realize that he always had chosen, no matter what the rules of immortal dogma said. During the Great Schism, only he and Abdiel had resisted the call of Mephistopheles, and despite their demonic origins, the pair had what he considered a goodness that equaled that of any angel.
Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) Page 35
