Ashes to Ashes

by Carrie F. Shepherd

“That I . . .” Iladrul felt himself tremble. He had heard the rumors that his mother had bedded this creature. And he had scoffed at those who had suggested he might be the Silver Mage’s son. “ . . . do.”

  The angel smiled at him and gave him a curt nod.

  “Especially wearing this bauble.” Iladrul swallowed again and grasped at the talisman that Emissary Lord Darklief had given him. Though he wasn’t certain why, he was hesitant to actually show it to the Silver Mage. “Do you know what it is?”

  The Silver Mage’s eyes narrowed as he reached for the thing. When he touched it, he pulled his hand away as though it burned him.

  “Powerful magic.” He muttered, his eyes widening and then narrowing again. “A gift from the Gods.”

  Iladrul swallowed before granting the Silver Mage a small nod.

  The Silver Mage’s eyes flicked upward again, meeting Iladrul’s gaze. “You may survive Lady Moira yet.”

  “Yes, my Lord.” He heard the tremble which laced his tone. “You say my father sent you?”

  “He did.” The Silver Mage sighed and turned away from him. It was a fluid, graceful movement that brought a tingle within Iladrul from his neck all the way down his spine. “He believes that I can teach you to use the powers that you hold within you.”

  “Do you believe this?” Iladrul whispered.

  When those damn silver eyes fell upon him again, Iladrul wished that the earth would open beneath him and swallow him. The Silver Mage assessed him for a long, torturous moment.

  Then, he smiled.

  “Oddly enough,” the angel said as he flicked his white wings behind him, “I do.”

  “Then I am your humble child.” Iladrul fell to his knee, raised his hand to his forehead and gave the angel the fealty he deserved.

  “That, my son,” the Silver Mage replied, his eyes flashing, “remains to be seen.”

  -14-

  Aiken approached the lands where Jamiason and his demons had made their camp very warily. He understood, all too well, that his was a presence which was not welcome here.

  In fact, his eyes hadn’t scanned the contours of Jamiason’s face since the day that he had watched Jamiason being dragged into exile by Michael and Metatron.

  Still. If he were to protect Jami’s elf, he had no choice but to go through with this encounter.

  As for the demons who would brand him a traitor, he cared little and less about them. They had lost his favor by their own behavior.

  As he walked down the rows of tents, searching for Jami, his nose curled in disgust. Each one of them, as had been reported, housed two elves, one boy and one girl.

  And, not a pair of them were getting up to what they had been forced together to do.

  “Asinine demons.” Aiken muttered under his breath as he passed one of the tents, flinging the flaps of it closed to give the couple within their unnecessary privacy. “Castrated boys and girls only lately come into their menses.”

  Seeing their faces, Aiken was suddenly furious with Iykva. He knew, without a doubt, that Jami had cast Aiken’s people into the roles of the right side.

  He continued on, his anger growing, until he came to a dark shape in the night. The shape bore no wings and smelled acutely canine.

  “Thamores?”

  The creature spun to face him. His yellow eyes flashed. As they did so, his lips curled into an unwanted smile. “Emissary Lord Darklief.”

  “That isn’t necessary and we both know it.” Aiken’s lips pursed. “What is the meaning of your presence here?”

  “Jamiason asked me to aide him in watching over these prisoners.”

  “These children.” Aiken hissed. “And Jamiason had nothing to do with any of it.”

  “Perhaps not.” Thamores’ yellow eyes flashed as they slid from side to side. “But would you speak these words too loudly?”

  “Of course not.” Aiken sighed. “Where is he?”

  Thamores’ lips thinned. “You’re the last person he wants to see.”

  “I’m overly aware of the details of the argument between myself and my Shitva.” Aiken snapped. “Where is he?”

  Thamores glared at him for a moment, sighed and then pointed at Jamiason’s tent.

  “But you won’t be welcome.”

  “Welcome or not,” Aiken grumbled as he passed the benandanti, “I will be received.”

  Though Aiken didn’t see it, Thamores, who had always admired the God of the fairies, smiled faintly as he shook his head and returned to his post.

  -15-

  Paul felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise as the flaps to the tent opened and the smell of summer flowers permeated the room. He knew, the barest moment that he heard the flutter of wings, who it was that had come into their presence.

  As, it would seem, did James.

  His Maker flew around with his blue eyes wide, his lips pulled thin, and his nostrils flaring. “What in the name of the Thirty Hells are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to warn you.” Emissary Lord Darklief replied as his eyes flew from Jamiason to Paul. “You’re looking well, child.”

  “Thanks.” Paul muttered, knowing that small talk was the least of things that was required if Emissary Lord Darklief had actually broken the long bout of silence between himself and Jamiason. “As are you.”

  “Answer me!” Jamiason seethed. “You know you’re not welcome.”

  “Calm down.” Emissary Lord Darklief groused as he flung himself into the closest chair. “I come on a mission of peace.”

  “What peace?” Jamiason asked, his eyes wide and troubled with shadows.

  “You asked me to protect your elf?” Emissary Lord Darklief spat. “I’m here to do just that.”

  “What are you blathering about?”

  “Noliminan has taken an interest in him.” Paul swallowed the bile that had risen to his throat. Jamiason and his Gods be damned elf! “And is watching him very intently, by all accounts.”

  “Whose accounts?” Jamiason’s voice was trembling.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Emissary Lord Darklief snapped. As he did so, his eyes flicked to Paul. “You can be trusted?”

  “With my life.” James assured the God.

  “Very well.” His violet eyes returned to Jamiason. “If you don’t finish this, and soon, this will no longer be a mortal war. It will be a war amongst the Gods. You do understand this?”

  “The Gods never insert themselves into—”

  “A battle for the thrones has ensued.” Emissary Lord Darklief stopped him. “A battle between Gods far more powerful than I.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It matters not.” Emissary Lord Darklief’s eyes fell upon Paul again, causing him to shiver.

  “Dear Gods, Aiken.” Jamiason whispered. “Do you mean to suggest that you have spies?” Emissary Lord Darklief chose not to respond. “That’s treason!”

  “And just who are you?” The fairy asked as he found his feet. “To talk of treason? When you set your most powerful ally against your own people to protect that elf child from war?”

  “That’s different!” Jamiason cried. “The stakes are much higher where your meddling is concerned.”

  “Meddling which I do on your behalf.” Emissary Lord Darklief reminded him. “Take heed, Jami.” He said as he walked toward the opening of the tent to take his leave. “That’s all I’ve come to say.”

  -16-

  “Michael’s been exiled!” Uriel ran toward her husband, her green eyes wide and her nostrils flaring with anger. “Did you hear?”

  “What are you raging about, woman?” Metatron asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at his sister. “Why on which moon would Noliminan exile Michael?”

  “Because he fell in love with Raguel.” Camael shrugged as he reached for Uriel’s hand to pull her into his arms so that he could bring her comfort. “And yes, dear.” He kissed her forehead. “Haniel stopped by moons ago to tell me.”

  “Nonsense!” Metatron see
thed. “I won’t believe it.”

  “Believe it or don’t.” Camael grinned at him, not understanding the true depths of Metatron’s rage. “He’s being replaced by Lucias’ bastard.” He chuckled slightly at the fierce indignation that crossed the features of his brother’s flaming face. “Michael, it would seem, is now in the service of our father.”

  “Say you what?” Metatron seethed. The flames that made up his body exploded all around him. “You lie!”

  “Not a wit.” Camael shook his head. He had the better sense to take a step away from Metatron as the small room flooded with the smoke of his brother’s rage. “Lucias has offered King Noliminan a trade. The bastard monster for Michael.”

  “For Michael?” Metatron’s flared.

  “That’s what our brother claims.” Uriel nodded, her curly blonde hair dancing around her fairly made face. “Michael told Haniel so himself.”

  “For Michael!”

  “Really, Metatron.” Camael sighed as he casually placed himself between his wife and his brother. “You should be happy for—”

  “Happy?” Metatron took a step toward Camael, his eyes wide and his anger all consuming. “Happy?!”

  “Michael has served King Noliminan longer than any one of us but for Raphael.” Uriel tried, her voice holding a note of pleading within it as she grasped her husband’s shoulders far too tightly. “Camael is right. Michael deserves the reprieve.”

  “Michael doesn’t deserve the reprieve!” Metatron cried. “Nor does he want it!” Camael felt Uriel cringe behind him. His hackles rose as his instinct to protect his wife outweighed his love for his brother. “I wanted the reprieve. And have asked Lucias for her succor time after time only to be told to bide!”

  “Metatron—”

  “No.” Metatron seethed, his anger exploding around them all. Camael felt the hair on his brows singe; Metatron was that angry. “I will not stand for this.”

  “There’s nothing you can do.” Uriel whispered.

  “Isn’t there?” Metatron seethed, his body flaring again.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, brother!” Camael begged.

  Metatron merely glared at him before storming out of the cottage that Camael and Uriel shared, slamming their front door behind him.

  -17-

  Gorgon faced his father, his strange and murderous eyes hidden behind dark glasses, shivering. He had the better sense to be terrified.

  “I love you, child.” Loki whispered. “And I’m sorry for the path I must set you upon.”

  The snakes on his head betrayed him. They flew in every direction, hissing. Yet he forced the words all the same. “I am proud to serve the King of Lords.”

  Loki snorted.

  “Father.” Gorgon swallowed the bile in his throat. “I will not fail you.”

  Loki smiled at him and raised his hand to run it along the contours of Gorgon’s face. As he did so, one of the damned snakes that made up Gorgon’s hair wrapped itself around Loki’s wrist. The shame that Gorgon felt as the snake did this was overwhelming.

  Yet, his father, who had never admonished him for his nature, merely rolled his eyes and turned his neck to kiss the head of the snake that wrapped around him.

  “Gorgon.” Loki whispered. “Mind me child.”

  “Yes, father.”

  “You are mortal.” Loki raised his hand and brushed several of the snakes that were flying toward him behind Gorgon’s ear. “You have powers beyond those of your peers.” Gorgon felt his brow furrow. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  “No.” Gorgon choked back his fear. “Forgive me, father.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, child.” Loki sighed. “Just know this.”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t have to mind his every whim.” Loki answered forcefully. “Do you understand?”

  Gorgon shook his head.

  “You’re mortal, damn it!” Loki growled. “You aren’t an archangel.” Loki’s lips pursed. “He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  Gorgon frowned.

  “Don’t you understand?”

  “No.” Gorgon whispered.

  “You are blessed with a will of your own.” His lips thinned. “Your peers . . . aren’t.”

  “I don’t under—”

  “You are a member of Noliminan’s Quorum.” Loki said, unwrapping the snake that had wrapped itself around his wrist and kissing it on the head before pushing it away. “It’s true.” His lips thinned again. “But you are my son. And I love you.”

  “I love you.” Gorgon replied.

  Loki smiled.

  “Papa?”

  “If he orders you to do something that offends you,” Loki turned his purple eyes away from his son, “disobey him.”

  “Father!”

  “He can’t punish you!” Loki seethed, returning his gaze to Gorgon.

  “But he is the King of all Lords!” Gorgon whispered.

  “That may be.” Loki smiled tightly. “Disobey him all the same.” Loki looked swiftly away. “And protect your half brothers and sisters if you can.”

  “Half-brothers and—”

  “There are eleven others whose pillows rest alongside his throne.” Loki returned his gaze to meet that of his son’s. “Never forget that you are the only one who can, for now, protect them.”

  Overwhelmed by the understanding of the responsibility that suddenly crashed upon him, Gorgon swallowed.

  “Yes, Father.”

  -18-

  The dathanorna watched the copper haired creature and his party pass through its forest with an empty belly and base desires. Though there were plenty of other creatures in its forest, none smelled as juicy and sweet.

  It licked its lips and, in its wolf’s form, which it was most comfortable wearing given it had been the form Lucias had given it as a babe, stepped lightly toward the edge of the tree line.

  “Be wary, Iladrul.” The silver haired angel said as he looked right and left. “We’ve entered the forest of the lost dead.”

  “Yes, my Lord.” The sweet young thing said, looking over his shoulder with a strange expression upon his fair face. “Are we in danger?”

  “We shouldn’t be.” The angel replied, his tones low. “But one never knows when walking amongst the children of Hades.”

  The dathanorna smiled, despite itself. The angel was right. Many a man or woman who had entered the boundaries of its forest had run mad.

  “Just be wary.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  They walked on.

  The dathanorna followed.

  -19-

  When the door opened and Loki stepped through, Aiken started. His violet eyes grew round and his thick lips split into such a grin as would never, again, be duplicated by any living creature. As for Ishitar, he merely looked at Loki with tired interest.

  “You’re home!” Aiken flew to his feet and ran to his friend, taking him in his arms in a warm embrace. Loki bore this with a tight, embarrassed smile.

  “Why is it that every time I step through these doors after a bout of absence I’m molested by a fairy?”

  Aiken laughed. He wasn’t the child he had been when he had last pounced on Loki in this manner.

  “Because I’ve woken from a dream.” Aiken grinned and kissed his dearest friend on his cheek. “And this time, you’ve come home to save your Sam.”

  “My Sam.” Loki swallowed and pulled away, planting his hands on Aiken’s shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. “He survived Noliminan’s terrors?”

  “He did.” Ishitar replied, standing and walking toward the pair, his hand extended. Loki released Aiken and shook it. “For a wonder.”

  “How are you, boy?” Loki asked, smiling slightly.

  “Well.” Ishitar cocked his head. “How is your mortal son?”

  “Well.” Loki grimaced at the question. “For now.”

  “Good.” Ishitar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I hope you’re hungry. Aiken
’s made a fine stew.” Loki returned his gaze to Aiken, smiling. “And, anticipating your return today, I’ve made you one of my pies.”

  Loki’s face split into a wide grin. “I’ve missed your pies.”

  “Have you?”

  Aiken, turning his eyes in Ishitar’s direction, clenched his teeth lest he frown.

  -20-

  “All of our ships!” Iykva screamed at Paul. “Burned asunder!”

  “You can’t have expected them to not bar our passage.”

  “Jackanapes!” The demon replied, spinning and storming toward the tent in which he meant to lay his head for the day.

  Paul turned toward Jamiason, trying not to smile.

  “Don’t smirk.” James muttered as his eyes turned to Thamores. “Any word from my twins?”

  “None.” Thamores shook his head. “Not a peep.”

  James’ lips thinned.

  “I’m certain they’re safe.” Paul tried to assure his Maker. “They are, both of them, cunning.”

  “Perhaps.” Jamiason shook his head. “What do we do now?”

  “Convince Iykva that the best course is to head for home.” Thamores suggested. “We can’t cross the sea. And we can’t back trace our steps.”

  “The only means for going home from here without back tracing is the Forest of Spirits . . . ” Paul whispered. “We can’t possibly—”

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of ghosts.” Thamores scoffed.

  “Unlike you,” Paul snapped, “I’m mortal and will be damned when I die rather than raised up as a God.”

  Thamores grinned at that.

  “The spirits can’t harm you.” Jamiason replied irritably. “And Thamores is right. If we back trace, the fairies will destroy us. As much as I want the elves to win this war, I don’t want my people eliminated.”

  “Should we speak with Chiron?”

  “He’s moved his herd south.” Jamiason shook his head. “They only promised me the one battle.”

  “Of course.” Thamores sighed. “My wolves frightened them.”

  “They are a Heavens’ bound race.” Jamiason’s smile was thin and tight. “And not at all on our side.”