Of Kings and Demons

by Han, George

  Victor nodded and smiled, and spoke.

  #

  “Is it too much for you?” Robin Ballard asked as he passed a glass of whisky to Governor Walter.

  “What do you think?” Walter said and he took a sip from the glass.

  “I thought I had outgrown it.” Robin said.

  “Outgrown what?” Walter asked.

  “Fantasy,” Robin replied.

  Walter sniggered. “Where would mankind be without the ability to dream and the courage to chase those dreams, Robin?”

  Robin shrugged. “Remember when we were in school? Communism had just collapsed. The change in the affairs of human civilization that we had never imagined was going to happen in our lifetime, happened.”

  “We won and all else went kaput.”

  “It didn’t happen by chance.”

  “Reagan had the guts …” Robin said

  “It wasn’t just Reagan, Robin. It was back to our Founding Fathers. Each President set the bar by showing courage and equanimity and embraced the values of liberty. That made any acts of that failed that bar unacceptable. Any future President that came into the White House has a standard to uphold. That made standing up to tyranny and unjust, in every part of the world, a part of our natural inclination, part of our moral fibre.”

  Robin paused “Yes, Mr President.”

  Walter cringed and waved it off before continuing “Andrew Jackson stood his ground against the bankers. Lincoln had the pluck to fight slavery and stood above all the inconsequential masses. He steered history. Roosevelt stood head and shoulder above everybody despite being confined to a wheelchair. Harry Truman looked like an ordinary bloke from the south, but he had extraordinary foresight and courage, and took a stand against the communists. Reagan or Nixon, they proved they were worthy standard bearers of the flag of liberty and democracy. They were all Kings of Men.”

  Walter paused and sipped his whisky, then continued.

  “Charlemagne, Peter the Great, Churchill, and all of the rest. Over the masses of humans, mired in ignorance, they were beacon of hope, steadfast in their ways, they fought all enemies of darkness; and they fought they own weakness. They were the anchors of hope for the besieged humanity and they provided humanity with their display of courage which set the precedent for all Kings of Men to come. That is inspiration for us all. That is why I ran for public office in the first place.”

  Walter shook his head. “Robin, I got cold feet last night, a coward. Got to admit it but I actually thought of giving it all up because of the attack.”

  “You did what any human would do.”

  Both of them heard the interruption and looked towards the door, the speaker was Eugene. His arms were folded and he looked self-assured.

  “Please do not let guilt reside in your heart, Governor.”

  “Angel…”

  “Eugene, please.”

  “Instinctive reflexes are for any ordinary man,” Walter said. “A sane man would give up at the first sign of danger to himself. Cowards run for cover at the first shot during battle. It is the extraordinary who will stand and fight, in the face of fire, in the face of death.”

  “You nearly ran away but you did not. Something in you kept you back. Now you must live up to your own definition of an extraordinary man and avoid cowardice.”

  “You are right.”

  “Make the right choice, and change the future.”Eugene said.

  “I will redeem myself. I want to prove I am worthy to stand next to those distinguished gentlemen.”

  “We will be proud of you.”

  “Could you tell us about yourself?”

  “Is that important?”

  “Yes, we are just like schoolboys who’d seen the first fairy.” Robin enunciated, nervousness weighing on his eyebrows. “We are keen.”

  Eugene sat himself next to the governor and began

  “I was born in times of turbulence when a member of my race was worth no more than a stack of hay. My name is Eugene Freeman, son of a farm hand. My father was a slave in a New Jersey. He worked long hours, and worked regardless of sunshine or rain. I helped him when I was about your age. It was a tough existence, but we were a lot luckier than other slaves. At least we had a roof and food we eat tasted like food. We were freed when President Lincoln signed the Act of Emancipation. Then the war came because there were people who felt we did not deserve the inalienable freedom of a human being.”

  “You fought in the war?”

  “No. I served in logistics, behind the battle lines, and I helped with the transport of food and medical supplies. My family was involved, my father and my uncle fought in Philip Sheridan’s regiment.”

  “The civil war?”

  Eugene mused, “Momentous event. I read your history textbooks but none of them captured the despondency and darkness of that era. The nights are so dark and long that you doubt there will be dawn.”

  “Educate me, Angel. I am your student tonight.”

  Eugene mused, “I was reborn as an Angel, reborn on a night so dark that you wonder if you will see dawn again. The Union was losing, and casualties mounted; prospects of death lurked behind every passing second. The Southern generals were pushing the Union soldiers back into the north. It was the seventh day of September, 1858, we heard an intense cannon bombardment, and I found a couple of wounded Union soldiers in our barnyard. The owner had fled to Washington and only my father and a couple of others stayed on to look after the plantation. So we fed and washed those soldiers. It was a rough moment. One of them lost three fingers and another, one eye. We tried our best, but we are no doctors. Two days later, the Confederates came on horses.”

  Eugene paused, as if trying to digest a difficult bone. “There was a dozen of them, unshaven and hungry, they were ready to kill and burn. Pushed and shoved by their circumstances, they’d lost their sense of humanity, they were simply red-eyed Demons. They searched but failed to locate the Union soldiers. But they found us. They had my family and I bound and interrogated. And boy, though they were not great conquerors, they were great torturers.”

  “What happened then?” Robin asked.

  “My father was beaten like to pulp. They shot him first, then my uncle, one of our friends, his grandfather …” Eugene paused, tears in his eyes. “You will excuse me. It has been two hundred years, but I will never forget the moment when they shot my father in his temples.”

  “I am sorry...” Walter’s face crumbled in sorrow.

  “I hope my story will cement your will. Your sorrow will subside like the sea waves, and what is left is the golden beach, everlasting. I must finish, for your sake, governor.”

  “Thank you.” Walter whispered.

  “It was my turn eventually. They punched and kicked, but there is no way I would give away the locations of those Union soldiers. I played dumb. I thought they would give up at some point. I was wrong.”

  By now the atmosphere was saturated with melancholy. Nobody spoke but the silence was deafening.

  “They stabbed me. Once in the chest, then in the thigh, and then many more times all over. They were no longer interested in an answer, Patrick. They were just angry, and they just wanted to vent their frustrations. They just needed to assuage their anger by punishing my flesh. If my death makes them feel better, I am fine. So be it.” Eugene explained.

  Robin sniffed.

  “I knew I was dying when the sensation of pain faded, only to be replaced by numbness. Darkness came like a curtain gently dropped.” Eugene paused again. “That is death, the end for mortals, if you ever wonder what painful death is.”

  “I am sorry to ask, Eugene.” Walter murmured.

  The Guardian Angel shook his head. “Walter, you should know. It is only fair that knowledge comes with the kind of sacrifice you have shouldered. You need to understand what we are doing and knowledge lent meaning to your suffering and losses. I am happy to share. Time has already allowed me to acquire a sense of equanimity to handle such tragedies.”
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  “How do you manage to do that? The tragedies you encountered must have been awful.”

  “We remind ourselves that we are not alone in facing adversity. There are many who endured the unbearable. The Archangel raised those who suffered the worst pain and loss to be Guardian Angels because he wants us to guard and protect those who are going to endure those sufferings. We know what it is like, and we help to prevent the suffering from happening. When we fail, we try to make it bearable.”

  “I am grateful you recount your experience for my sake.”

  Eugene lifted his clothes. Ugly scars lined his torso.

  Both Walter and Robin were dumbfounded.

  Eugene explained. “Alastair, Captain of Guardians and one of the strongest in all realms—Heaven, Hell, or Earth was my mentor. As a result of my sacrifice, he gave me a chance to serve as a Guardian Angel. Alastair left my scars unhealed to remind me of the value of liberty and the purpose of my new role - there are oppressed souls out there that we must liberate. I must be steadfast in my mandate to save those who were like me, who might be in harm’s way. I swore to Alastair and Lord Michael I would never them down.”

  “Michael?” Patrick repeated. “The Archangel?”

  “The great Archangel, Saint Michael,” Eugene explained.

  “Amazing.” Walter exclaimed.

  “My pain and loss is a small price to pay for the lesson you learnt today. The sacrifices you made laid the bridge for you to fulfill your destiny. The death of those around you will not be in vain. All things good come after the sacrifice and pain. It will come.”

  “You lived in a turbulent time, a turbulent time of great men. I am nothing like Lincoln.” Walter shook his head.

  “Lincoln created his own place in history.” Eugene said. “You have to do the same.”

  “Faith,” Walter repeated. “I guess that is the only thing I have got now.”

  The Guardian Angel stood to his full height. “It might be the only thing you need now to make your decision.”

  There was a long pause. Robin stared at Walter Johnson.

  “I will make the announcement at Capitol Hill.”

  Robin’s jaws dropped as he looked at Eugene, then at the governor again.

  #

  Chapter 33

  Success and Plans

  Over the centuries, Lord Barbatos had built a network of trusted servants and soldiers, secretly placed in the hierarchy of humans. Highly intelligent and well-placed in their respective fields, they came from various professions of finance, art, literature and politics.

  Boris Komorov is one of them; deep in worship of the dark side and unfailing in his support. The Komorov family was a staunch ally of the Demons, and Boris’s grandfather, Count Peter Komorov, was once a lowly servant in an aristocratic family in Kiev but went on to command his own battalion of soldiers during a royal campaign to crush a series of serf uprisings.

  Peter Komorov’s naked greed and ambition made him a perfect subject for seduction. After he had crossed over to the dark side, his clan had proposed. It survived the rise and fall of nations, dynasties, and regimes, through the world wars, the Cold War and the whatevers, and remained materially rich.

  They continued to own swathes of land in Europe, South America. and Africa, controlling mines, oil reserves, and gold. Just reward for loyal services to the Devil. They continued to be a trusted source of soldiers for the Demonic cause. Boris Komorov had inherited the family mantle after the demise of his father and continued their mission.

  After the session with Victor Palmer, Komorov hurried to a rendezvous with his master, carrying news that might delight his master.

  In Barbatos’s presence, Komorov hang his head low like a serf.

  “Speak, Boris,” Lord Barbatos commanded.

  “My Lord, Senator Palmer has agreed to our proposal.”

  “Positive news.”

  “My lord, our offer was too tempting for him.”

  “Greed and fear are always their cardinal weaknesses,” Barbatos commented.

  “Fear tipped the balance, my lord. The prospect of the destruction of his political career was too much to bear.”

  “You have once again lived up to my expectations, Boris,” Barbatos praised and

  continued. “Victor is the microcosm of the weakness of the human race. Fear of loss of all things material, fear of death.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Barbatos sauntered towards Boris. “And he really thinks he can be president?” Hubris will be his undoing. Pathetic, aren’t they? Humans.”

  “You are absolutely correct, my lord.”

  Barbatos smirked as he edged up to Komorov, his lips turned downward in arrogance. “Will he back out?”

  “It is unlikely, my lord. He is the willing victim in the spider’s web. Beneath his façade of strength is the usual matrix of weaknesses.”

  Lord Barbatos’s deep-throated laugh rippled through the realms of darkness. He examined Komorov. Despite being two hundred years of age, he looked strong and healthy. “You will be a key member of the human civilization in time to come.”

  “My gratitude, my lord. Without your guidance, I would have withered like the flower in the harsh desert.”

  “Flattery is a bad practice of the humans that you should not learn.”

  “It is also a necessary skill for survival, my lord.”

  “In moderation please, Boris. Now, go forth and continue with your plans. We will converse when the time is ripe.”

  Boris Komorov bowed low as he retreated from the domain.

  After he was alone, Lord Barbatos moved to a corner of the room where he had a map on the table. It depicted the terrain around his castle, and dotted with red flags which showed the positions of his armies. That reminded him of his next guest.

  Count Raum, dressed in the warrior armour of black, appeared shortly, and bowed in obeisance. “What is the state of the operation around America?”

  “The familiars and other forms of demons have submerged themselves into the seas of humans and will commence their subversion. Soon, there will be an increase in crime, as men give into their anger, fear and greed.

  “How is the preparation for our scheme?” Barbatos asked.

  “They are ready, my lord. We have the armies of Familiars and Demons, and goblins of the woods ready.”

  “Prepare your army well, Count Raum.”

  “Yes.”

  Barbatos walked up to Raum, his boots clicking with each step.

  “You said the same thing when you took three legions of Familiars to hunt down the Springs siblings.”

  “My lord—” Raum was silent.

  “Do not let failures become a habit. It is a bad habit to grow.”

  “Victory will be ours eventually.”

  Lord Barbatos shook his head. “You have one last chance. Prove yourself, Ivan.”

  Barbatos paused and tightened his lips as Count Raum remained bowed, looking at his own feet.

  “Look at me!” Barbatos ordered. Ivan obeyed, raising his head in slow motion.

  “If you fail again, your replacement will be here in no time.” Barbatos’s eyes narrowed as the irises burst into flame.

  Chapter 34

  Journey back

  The glimmering stars in the skies were the only assistance Gwyneth enjoyed in the charting her course. Her senses had not fully recovered and astronomy was her next-best ally in finding her destination. Taking the North Star as reference, she headed west to the valleys as hinted by Prince Vassago. Her flight was smooth, with no physical discomfort. She could not help but said a prayer for Vassago.

  Rarely, in the history of their war, had a Demon crossed the line to assist an Angel. In the chronicles of Heaven, which recorded the ancient events of the realms of Heavens and Hell, such incidents could be counted with a pair of hands. Although both classes of supernatural beings had originated from the same source—they were originally angels—they were now as incompatible as fire and water.
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  The treachery of a Demon can never be forgotten and Gwyneth did entertain the notion that Vassago harbor shady motives. However, after much deliberation, her inner voice triumphed, and she trusted the Demonic prince. Gwyneth was only a whisker away from expiry and the Prince did not need to deliberately walk her into any trap.

  She also remembered the realm of Hell was never a unified monolithic entity. There were various sects jostling for favours and powers. Lucifer wanted it that way; it ensured that he stayed on top of the seething seas of darkness, as the Demon Lords competed against each other. Lord Barbatos could be, as the prince had said, amassing powers by advancing a new agenda against humanity.

  She hoped the doubts can be resolved at her destination.

  Gwyneth thought of Maganus and Jin, and sped up in her flight, eager for a reunion.

  However, suddenly, a warm sensation caressed her heart—a familiar sensation. There was a long howl coming from the breadth of the landscape. Gwyneth swooped in over the edge of the woods and noticed a familiar silhouette. It was Marz, the white wolf and his howls were deep in longing.

  Gwyneth landed, and by the edge of the woods, both master and companion enjoyed an intense moment of reunion. Gwyneth felt the soft fur, which offered an amiable feel after the chill of the primate forests.

  “I thought we would never meet again. I came so close to losing you forever,” she said. Then Gwyneth turned solemn. “Tell me. Is Maganus alright?”

  Marz responded in a series of whimpers.

  “What happened?” Gwyneth asked. “Tell me.”

  The wolf whispered into her ear.

  “A terrible battle between the familiars and Maganus’s sodalitas ?” Gwyneth crossed her chest as she interpreted Marz’s whispers.

  “The kingling with Maganus?”

  Marz nodded.

  “Alas, an epic tussle is about to begin,” Gwyneth whispered as she stood. “I must head for the valleys to the west. Marz, inform Maganus of my whereabouts.”

  The snow wolf edged up closer and whispered again.

  “A young girl has been taken?” Prince Vassago was honest.

  Marz’s information added to the burden of worry in her heart. “I must leave now. Search for any Bellators you met and direct them to Maganus.” Gwyneth stood and stretched her wings, but before she took to the sky, a thought burst into her consciousness.