by Han, George
The change of events compelled Jin to drop his bow and joined the action with his sword. It was uncharacteristic of Jin to use his sword unless circumstances warrant it, but lack of usage does not make him a lesser swordman.
With sharp strokes, Jin slew the first pair of trolls but had to battle the remaining four, who attacked with reckless brutishness and strength. Off to the side, Gwyneth watched with consuming apprehension. The Allies were being decimated despite their gallant fighting. Severed limbs and remains of slain bodies lay strewn about, blood and fluid peppering the grounds. Her heart ached. She tried to do her part but an acute pain erupted in her chest. She had not fully recovered.
As the fighting dragged on, a gale swept across the plain and a ball of dark energy, rimmed in red, descended on the battleground. Lord Barbatos had arrived, and had Sarah with him.
Their appearance brought a momentary hiatus in the battle. When Mathew saw
his sister, he cried. “Sarah!” He made a dash but was repelled onto the ground by Barbatos’s dark powers.
He struggled to his feet but Barbatos pinned him on the ground with an easy turn of his palm.
Jin, who had sliced the last troll, noticed Barbatos’s motion and sprinted towards Mathew. As Lord Barbatos unleashed a bolt of lightning, Jin arrived and spread his wings like a redoubtable shield and took the blow. The deflected energies blew away everything in their path and scorched all forms of life, familiars and fairies alike. Groans and moans filled the air as the beings were incinerated. Absorbing the blow had shattered his verve, and the handsome face of the Jin had turned iron grey; his eyes were listless and his lips pale.
Mathew struggled for words and choked back his tears.
“Now you know …” Jin struggled to say.
“Know what?” Mathew asked.
“Angels have wings,” Jin winked with a frail smile.
#
Maganus assumed Eberhard had been defeated, buried for good, and rushed off to rejoin his fellow Angels. The cacophony of combat had become deafening—the yelling and metallic clashes. He was eager beaver to join the action.
However he did not go very far when the ground shook. The earth tumbled and a dark form leapt over and crashed into Guardian Angel like a juggernaut. Maganus dropped his battle-axes.
It was Eberhard!
The gargoyle was battered, with greenish blood trickling from his temples, and one of the horns broken. However, the pugnacious ferocity in those raging pupils was undiminished; and he had Maganus pinned right beneath his foot. The sneak attack has hurt Maganus. Suddenly, he looked his age, centuries of grey and dust, the hair dishevelled.
“Maganus, your complacency is your fatal weakness.”
“Stay where you belong, garbage!”
“Piling earth on me is enough to keep me down? Your naiveté is unbelievable. I am much stronger than you think.”
“Heavi…er, you mean?” Maganus stammered, struggling under the sheer weight of Eberhard. “Perhaps you can let me breathe?”
“It’s over, Maganus.” Eberhard winked, jumped up and brought his full weight down onto Maganus’s chest. “Over!”
Maganus felt pain exploded within him and sensed fishiness in his mouth. Blood. It had been a long while since he had tasted his own blood. The Guardian Angel tried to roll himself away but Eberhard caught his plaited hair, yanked him back, and hurled him to the ground.
Maganus steadied his breathing, shut his eyes, and focused his mind in prayer. He shut out Eberhard’s curses. Gradually, the prayer rooted in his mind and took on a life. He felt a surge through his veins, his powers creeping back. Maganus murmured his command and summoned his allies, his trusted buddies.
Eberhard was too engrossed with his taunts to realize the ground was shifting. Within seconds, roots of trees, thick like tentacles from the Mother Earth, slithered over Eberhard and wrapped themselves around his limbs and torso.
The entrapped Demon tried to break away, but his power of flight was constricted. Maganus’s prayer to the forces of nature had been answered. If naiveté is my weakness, then Eberhard’s blind rage is his.
The gargoyle fought hard to break free but the tree roots held tight and dragged him towards the crater. Maganus swiftly got back on his feet but he struggled to catch his breath, between coughs and grunts. His legs ached as he limped away. He got no further than a yard when Eberhard threw his tail around Maganus’s neck, and jerked him back to the ground.
The Angel cried. “Return to where you belong!”
“Come with me!” Eberhard bawled in protest.
Maganus failed to rip the gargoyle’s tail away and realized he had one option left, a painful one. He had to execute his own mutatio vox. Clenching his fists, the Angel willed the transformation. Ripples of energy sent the trees into sway, the grounds shaking. Within moments, his white wings grew and expanded to their full majesty, while his biceps and fists swelled. The Angel’s white eyebrows thickened, and a white light burned in the depth of his soul.
Maganus clasped his hands and summoned his battle-axes. His trusted weapons flew into his hands. The Angel roared ‘Vox of Polus’ and rose to his full height. Summoning every ounce of his energies, Maganus delivered a cutting swipe at Eberhard and severed the head of the obdurate beast.
#
“Darius, I counseled moderation,” Gwyneth said as she staggered towards the Duke of Demons. Lord Barbatos ignored the plea, his eyes focused on the battlefield where his Demons had gotten the upper hand.
“Darius. Mercy,” she pleaded, and nearly tripped.
Father Bellator held her before a terrible fall.
Jin limped right behind, grey and spent from his exertions. The blow he had taken for Mathew had broken him.
“Are you fine?” Gwyneth asked Jin who manage a lame nod.
She turned to Barbatos who stood like a victorious Roman Caesar, hands on waist, shoulders squared and lips curled etched in arrogance. The ring of dark energies completed his impregnability. Her former protégé had won their contest of powers. He was much stronger than all of them. Yet, there was scant joy for this is not the achievement she had envisaged for him.
A wind blew and soon snow fell, melting into the puddles of blood and turned the terrain smudged red.
“Gwyneth, calm yourself.” Barbatos said. “The snow is really a sign of your weakness.”
“Darius…”
“You must get used to the name Barbatos, only he can achieve all these. Only he, knight of first class in the kingdom of Hell, can deliver this victory.”
“This is not what I taught you…”
“Yes you had, Gwyneth. You taught me that traditions are for the ancient majority. The future belongs to the enterprising minority.” Barbatos asked as his eyes narrowed into slits of hatred. “You guided me well. Very well.”
Gwyneth was dumbfounded, she was helpless against Barbatos’s eloquence. The Demon Lord stepped forth. “Are you despondent? Thinking of your past mistakes?”
Gwyneth was silent.
“History is for the dead. I am born to rewrite history, Gwyneth!”
“Is it worth it?” Gwyneth asked.
“A new age for the Demons,” Barbatos declared. “A new age for man.”
“You will never win,” Jin said.
Barbatos smiled. “History is being rewritten as we speak.” He smirked as he surveyed the carnage. “Do you think you can leave Valmar alive? The kinglings have to die here no matter.”
Jin added, “Mercy, Barbatos.”
“If you lose them, your struggle will have no meaning. I have made a correct move, my old friends. Your fear validated my observation.”
Gwyneth spoke in a flagging voice. “This struggle goes on regardless of the outcome of this battle. Even if we all perish, there will be other Angels ready to continue this fight. You have forgotten the root of our existence, Darius. Being raised from death to be a guardian of the Kings, sacrifice is the essence of my existence.”
Gwyneth p
aused and then coughed in fits, throwing up blood.
An unperturbed Lord Barbatos retorted. “Gwyneth, the human race is weak, ungrateful, ignorant, and yet greedy beyond imagination. Your love, mercy and forgiveness did not cure them of their imperfection.”
“Their imperfection means they need us, not you. Only the Demons can offer them the true path.”
“We will stop you.” Jin added.
“Continue in your delusion, Jin.”
“And you in yours,” Father Bellator said.
Barbatos eyed the priest with disdain, then flicked his pointer finger and sent him against the trunk of a nearby tree. Barbatos’ sheer power sent off a ripple of force that was felt by all who watched agape as the priest rolled onto the ground, lifeless.
Gwyneth shut her eyes in exasperation. “You are not going to win.”
“It is beyond you now!” Barbatos cried. “The flame of human civilization is flickering and their darkest hour is upon them. The tipping point will arrive soon; deaths of your Kings and kinglings will have serious implications for them. My scheme will succeed.”
Barbatos’s words reminded Gwyneth of her dialogue with Prince Vassago, and his mention of Barbatos’s scheme.
“You need them for your scheme of domination?”
“Perceptive.”
Barbatos’s eyes were already on Sarah and then Mathew.
Gwyneth shook her head. “No.”
Jin nodded. “Gwyneth, he will not change his mind. The only option now is to fight him. Sacrifice is necessary.”
“Sacrifice? Is it worth it?” Mathew asked.
The others snapped their heads around to stare at the boy.
“Mathew?” Jin said.
“I’m sorry, Jin. It is just so heart-breaking to witness these sacrifices. I have seen enough blood lost, and I do not want you to sacrifice for us.” Mathew was grim-faced.
J in smiled. “Sacrifice is the essence of all things good and great, Mathew. Nothing, no great human achievement, is possible without sacrifice.”
“Mathew!” Lord Barbatos interrupted. “Aren’t you interested in saving your sister?”
“Don’t listen to him, Mathew!” Jin said. “He is highly manipulative.”
Barbatos sniggered. “Listen to Jin and give up your sister. Sacrifice her and join the Angels in a lost cause.”
Mathew stood glued to the ground, immobilized by Barbatos’s taunt. Seeing his success, the Duke of Demons continued. “You can save your sister if you join me. Let me guide you. A path of glory is waiting for you. That is your true destiny, not the one designed by Heaven.”
“He will kill you, Mathew. Don’t,” Gwyneth said.
However the Demon interrupted. “Mathew, think of your future. Your heart pines for your fellow friends, doesn’t it? It can all stop, and I promise that your friends will all leave these plains, alive.”
Mathew took a step forward.
“Mathew, he killed your granduncle and aunt!” Gwyneth shouted
Mathew looked at Gwyneth, then Barbatos, and hesitated. Then Mathew turned and rejoined his friends. He hugged Gwyneth and picked up his sword again.
Lord Barbatos’s eyebrows thickened with fury, his ego pricked by the rejection. “If this is your choice, humans, then be prepared for the consequence! There will be only one outcome: annihilation.” His booming voice resonated through the woods and sent waves of chill to all beings within proximity.
The Dark Lord raised his right hand and sent bolts of lightning in all directions, striking down the allies of the angels, the dwarves and fairies. Within seconds the victims turned into heaps of ash. Many allies of the Angels perished and Barbatos was ready to unleash another strike. Then he stopped—a projectile landed right in front of him.
Barbatos froze for a moment. Then dread dawned upon him as he identified the object. The severed head of Eberhard. Like a distraught owner of a pet, his face underwent a dramatic change, from a display of haughty arrogance to sorrow and finally eventual embarrassment.
His lips quivered for a moment, but only for a moment. Then Barbatos was smiled as if nothing had happened. He picked up the head and bowed. Then he shut his eyes and began to chant in deep tones.
Gwyneth turned to Jin. “He is going to be very upset.”
Mathew added, “It must be Maganus.”
“Credit to him, but it is going to be ugly for us all,” Jin whispered as he eyed Lord Barbatos, who was framed in a ring of red light.
“Why?” Mathew asked.
“That is a grievance no dark lord will forget,” Jin said. “Eberhard is his favourite. It was raised from six hundred sixty-six souls of bloodthirsty warriors and murderers of the dark side. Now, instead of one enemy, we are going to have six hundred of them.”
As the Angels watched in horror, Barbatos transformed Eberhard’s head. In a trance, his face twisted in a mixture of hatred and sorrow, Barbatos chanted as Eberhard’s head disintegrated into dust and ashes. The fragments dissipated into the air and began to mutate and grow like fetuses. First the head, then the limbs and the wings sprouted in a series of creaks and croaks. Soon the form of gargoyles was completed, and the sky was filled with blood-thirsty demons. The cacophony of spleen-splitting shrills gripped the souls of all present.
“Dear all, the game ends here,” Barbatos said. “You will pay for your stupidity. The Angels lose. The Kings lose.”
Barbatos directed his hands at Gwyneth like an orchestra conductor would, and the hundreds of gargoyles, obedient instrument players, took the cue and descended on the Angels.
Gwyneth pushed Jin away, took the front spot and clasped her hands in prayers. “Copiae copie of snow , audite meus dico. Copiae copie of tempestas , audite meus dico.” Forces of snow, hear my call. Forces of weather, hear my call.
Jin grabbed Gwyneth instantly. “The spell will paralyze you!” he warned.
“What choice do we have, my friend,” Gwyneth explained. Her eyes were wet. “Tell Lord Michael, I tried my best.”
“You tell him yourself, Gwyneth.”
An obstinate Gwyneth pushed Jin aside and proceeded with her spell.
A gale rose and grew into a tower-high crescendo. It rolled towards the ensemble of dark forces like a gargantuan juggernaut. Waves of snow fell upon the gargoyles. Upon impact, the snow burnt onto the iron-grey hide of the gargoyles and familiars, melting them in the heavenly snow amidst a cacophony of agony and pain.
Barbatos undid his robes and he, too, clasped his palms in casting a spell. Within seconds, the slain gargoyles multiplied in numbers and returned to action. They had been resurrected!
The exertion drove Gwyneth to the limits, and she dropped to her knees. She was spent but her efforts wasted.
“My dear Angels, your resistance is futile.” Barbatos said,
With their slouched shoulders and jaded expressions, the Angels were a portrait of despondency. Mathew picked up his sword and stood by the Angels, wielding the sword at the approaching gargoyles. A fallen wing, a lobbed off limb and he was a figure of unfading courage.
Just then a figure bolted from the dark and landed next to him.The new arrival brought much relief – a robust Maganus who stroke his beard.
Ready to do his part, Maganus inhaled and pushed his broad torso forth, pulled back his fists and roared “Victoria ut Angelus.’ Victory to the Angels!”
His vocals bred a tidal wave of decibels that sliced through the advancing gargoyles and left a trail of corpses and debris. The Demons recoiled like a wound animal and circled over Barbatos in caution.
Maganus’s decibels hit Barbatos and sent the Demon Lord edging back a few feet. The Dark Lord steadied his foothold with a sharp and firm twist of his right foot. Barbatos was flabbergasted at the defiance of his opponent, clasped his hands for another resurrection spell but a sharp pain in his abdomen halted his attempt.
Maganus teased. “How do you find my voice? You might need a respite?” However, the taunt was Maganus’s final act of resistance. The
Angel puked blood and slumped by the side of his fellow Angels, grey and short of breath.
Gwyneth checked on him. “You have aged.”
“So have you, Gwyneth.”
“Younger than you by half, all the time.”
“What do we do now? Gwyneth?” Mathew asked, half kneeling by Maganus.
“Perhaps you would like to give us a miracle?” She said
“Is this a joke?” Mathew asked “Only Angels can. I am just a normal human.”
“The future King of Men has the powers to perform a miracle? In a crisis, moments as such, they will be able to do so.”
Maganus’s eyes shifted to Mathew.
“Maybe that moment has arrived.” He remarked.
Chapter 42
Sacrifice and Miracle
As the Angels conversed, Lord Barbatos had replenished his energies. The pain had subsided and he felt a wave of heat warming his veins, the powers had returned. He marveled at his regenerative powers, a testimonial to the power of the dark side.
Barbatos flexed his muscles as he eyed the vulnerable Angels. It is time for the final move. He raised a hand, a casual gesture and the waves of gargoyles took the cue. They besieged the Angels like a loop of death, ready to drop anytime and strangle the victims.
Barbatos bent over to Sarah—who had her head in her hands—and whispered, “Your friends are tired. They would not last very long, Sarah. You want to witness their final scene?”
Sarah’s eyes widened with horror “Spare them please,” she said, her plea barely audible as tears streaked down her cheeks.
“Persuade them to stop their resistance to prevent unnecessary sacrifices,” Barbatos smiled with the smugness of a general who was about to receive his enemy’s surrender.
Barbatos expected Sarah to crumple and give the obedient nod but the girl shook her head. Within a split second, Barbatos’s characteristic smirk vanished and an iron mask of anger dropped over his aristocratic face. With a wave, he smacked the girl to the ground.
