by Han, George
“Defiance will not be rewarded, my child.” Barbatos locked his huge hand over Sarah’s neck, lifted into the air, and shook her. He looked at Mathew. “Your turn is next!”
Barbatos’s smack triggered Mathew who made a mad dash at the Demon Lord, sword in hand. Maganus and Jin tried to restrain him but he was beyond their grasp.
In the background, the silhouette of a grotesque being lurked, and emerged from the woods. A beastly cry that sounded like the hybrid of a lion’s roar and human’s shrill heralded its arrival. However it was the sound of the flapping wings that really caught the attention of the Angels.
“Manticore!” Maganus whispered in belated realization. He ran as fast as he could but the mutatio vox has sapped him dry. His legs gave way and he fell, too late save the boy, but in time to witness his demise.
Mathew was only a yard from Barbatos, poised to strike when the prized creation of Lord Barbatos wielded its scorpion-like tail. The stinger pierced Mathew’s back and protruded from his chest. His mouth was agape in agony in the midst of a drowning roar that echoed through the surroundings. Blood and tissues from Mathew’s body trickled down the tail and stained the grass a grisly red.
The spectacle of Mathew, skewered on the tail of the Manticore, robbed the breath of the Angels. They stood silent. Sorrow bursting through their veins and yet words failed them.
Maganus broke the silence with a long wail, a deep howl that echoed into the woods and roused even the trees. Gwyneth was on her feet. She clasped her hands, ready for prayer-spell but Jin stopped her.
“No.”
“I need to revive him.” She cried.
“Another exertion will certainly kill you,” he said. “And only an Arch Angel can resurrect those killed in battle, Gwyneth.” Jin reminded.
Mathew’s body was flung off the sting, dropped to the ground in a series of twitches before finally lying still.
Nobody, neither the Demons nor the Angels moved. With Sarah in his cuff, like a rabbit, he sauntered over his prized servant. He gave the Manticore a firm pat. His characteristic smirk burst into twisted chuckle. “Death to the fool, and he sure was one.”
However, Sarah struggled and her feet hit Barbatos on the chest. Shocked and insulted, Barbatos cast Sarah to the ground. Then he turned to the Angels and remnants of their allies. He directed his hands at them, and the forces of Demons and the circling gargoyles took the cue and advanced in unison to complete their annihilation of the forces of the good.
Barbatos spotted Queen Catherine, who was coordinating the battle. He hurled a bolt of lightning at the matriarch of Tree Fairies and turned her into ashes.
The latest casualties thickened Gwyneth’s moods “I summoned them and they came in fulfillment of honour. For their loyalty, they are paid with death.” She lowered her head, crossed her chest, and prayed for their souls
“Is that all you can do, Gwyneth?” Barbatos taunted as a winner would. He paced in front of the Angel and taunted her. “Can someone please give me a fight? A real fight!”
When the disconsolate Angels did not respond, Barbatos continued. “The next chapter of history will be written by us with the future of the human race altered. The era for the Demons has arrived. My Angel friends, your failure is complete. Do you have grace to congratulate me?”
He turned to Gwyneth and threw a taunt “Why are you eyes closed?”
“Seeing you in this twisted state always pained me. I shut my eyes the first time I witnessed your passage to darkness and submission to Lucifer. I don’t want to see you as you are now, blind to the good side and twisted beyond salvation.”
Gwyneth’s words brought about an awkward silence with Barbatos now at a loss for words. His mask of fury softened, for a moment, only a moment, and then the vintage frown took control again.
“You lost me a long time ago.”
“A failure you were.” Gwyneth nodded.
“Don’t quote me as an example of failure. I was your fault.” He jabbed an authoritative finger at the Guardian Angels, first at Jin, then Maganus. “All of you are responsible for these failures.”
“I know mankind had let you down in the past,” Maganus said with a tormented expression. “Back in the ages when we were your mentors, circumstances were unique. There were wars in Europe, Catholicism versus Protestantism, royals against royals and brothers fought brothers. We don’t decide, circumstances decide, Barbatos.”
“Excuses!” Barbatos cut the air with his right palm and in a rash gesture, unleashed a bolt of energy into the battling columns. His whimsical burst of anger wiped out all forms of life, Demons and allies of Angels, within a fifty-yard diameter. The cries of agony and tang of death drifted in the midst of the carnage.
“Anything else you want to add?” he asked.
Barbatos noticed Gwyneth eyes shifted to the corpse of Mathew Springs.
“The dark side has prevailed, Gwyneth.”
“You can never enslave the humans,” she said as her cheeks turned wet. “After we are gone, many more will carry the flag.”
“Your ignorance is unbelievable.”
Gwyneth sensed something. “What do you mean?
Barbatos glowed, smirked and then broke out laughing with the pride of the ownership of an exclusive secret.
“illa qui susurrat…” he whispered
“What do you mean?”
“Not even an Angel like you knew? Barbatos teased as the sight of Gwyneth’s painful ignorance warmed his ego.
Barbatos cleared his throat.
“I overheard a conversation between Archangels and they spoke of someone who will be great, somebody who will set the course of history for mankind for the next five centuries - quinque centum annis.”
“You heard the secrets.”
Barbatos nodded with pride that he had dropped a shocker.
“She is the true decider. She will be somebody great. Her whispers…”
There was a pause and then everybody, Gwyneth’s and Barbatos’s eyes fell on Sarah. Barbatos continued his rant. “All of you had thought the kingling I wanted was Mathew.” Barbatos glanced at the corpse of the lad “How wrong you were!”
“What do you mean?”
“Foolish.” Barbatos hissed with a dismissive hand.
“After she is dead, there is no purpose in your fighting anymore.”
The Guardian Angels huddled together, struggling with the truth. The Demon Lord was beyond elaborating the truth. He was prepared to wrap up the action. He summoned the remaining gargoyles and raised his hand, the drop of which will send the hundreds of gargoyles onto the hapless Angels.
As the Angels and Demons altercated, Sarah was prostrated, by the slain Mathew, in silent mourning, a picture of forlorn serenity. She has clasped her hands in prayer.
“Which of you would like to shed your blood?” Barbatos challenged “Which one of you?” he repeated.
The Guardian Angels, exhausted, strained to put on a stoic front. Barbatos’s moment of truth was the last straw.
The Duke of Demons continued his diatribe “Cowards, and I thought selflessness was your hallmark.”
“Let it be me.” A whisper.
Barbatos looked around. It was not Maganus, Jin, or Gwyneth.
Slowly, he turned and frowned at Sarah. “What do you think you are doing?”
She repeated, “Let it be me.”
“You want to die in their place?” Barbatos asked, and Sarah nodded.
“You pathetic little flower. Say that again.”
But Sarah continued to pray, her head bowed. “Take my life. You took Mathew’s, take mine, too.”
Barbatos chuckled. “Sarah Springs, your turn will come later. I need a spectator anyway.”
Barbatos turned to the Angels and raised his muscular arms. Sparks of lightning began to spew from his hands as a ball of red energy grew in his palms.
He scanned the Angels, trying to decide the first victim of his killer blow. “Maganus,” he said. “Real annoyance and
always like a leech, irritating and yet difficult to remove. More importantly, you have to pay for killing Eberhard.”
Then Barbatos lifted his head and glanced around. A gale had begun and the ball of energy in his hands began to shrink until it disappeared. Streams of light began to slice through the darkness and shone over the landscape.
Barbatos glared at Gwyneth. “This is one of your tricks!” But when he witnessed the similar bewilderment on the White Angel’s face, he paused. Maganus and Jin were equally dumbfounded.
Barbatos soon discovered the creator of the phenomenon - Sarah. A ring of light had enveloped her, and it was growing. Barbatos cuffed her neck and raised her like a hapless squirrel.
However, Barbatos’s desire was frustrated when streams of heat consumed his gloves and seeped into his skin. He dropped Sarah. He regretted not killing her much earlier.
Confounded, Barbatos watched as the fount of light spewed bolts of lightning. A portal was gradually being formed as a gale garnered such strength that even Barbatos found his foothold slipping as the winds beat on his flawless face. As he struggled, he witnessed Count Raum hurled from his mount.
Shattering his composure was the sight of his legions of Familiars fading in gradual obliteration, dissipating in the winds like salt in water.
“Nooooo!” Barbatos wailed, his composure crumbled like his armies. “This can’t be.”
The portal doors were now opened and a shaft of light fell on Barbatos. “Sarah!” he called but the girl did not look up. Barbatos tried to summon the gargoyles, but his limbs were beyond his control and he could only watch as his army of gargoyles fell like burnt fowl.
Then he heard the pounding drums and blaring horns, a sound from a distant past, an ancient rhythm that resonated through his memory. So familiar. The beating of the wings and the galloping of horses confirmed his worst fears. In the portal he saw a silhouette that gradually grew into a figure. He knew the rider, a familiarity that triggered a chill in the depths of his hellish soul.
The winged horse, on which mounted a rider of emerged and wheeled around him. The horse eventually stopped by the side of the Angels. The light had become so powerful that Barbatos had to shield his eyes. Then, the light dimmed.
The broad-shouldered figure was taller than Barbatos. Clad in the knightly white robes, he was the epitome of simplicity and grace. His wings, handsomely endowed and creamy white, lent him an indomitable presence.
“Impossible!” Barbatos muttered and forced himself to look at the Arch Angel again. The Demon began to tremble as the figure drew closer, like a disciple facing his master.
“Michael?” Michael! He continued.
The Archangel’s thick, snowy-white hair flowed in the wind, his white eyebrows shadowed deep-blue irises that carried a solemn glaze, The immaculate cleft chin, proud nose, the tender lips and the unassuming airs, all vintage Archangel Michael.
Instinctively, Barbatos struck with his right fist but in a lightning-swift motion, the Archangel parried and held the hand by its wrist.
“You have not changed a bit, that reckless energy.” A soft and gentle voice, familiar from centuries of acquaintance, wafted through the air. “Gentle wisdom is more important than brute force and dark cunning. Have you forgotten your teachings by your former mentors?” Michael looked towards his injured soldiers—Gwyneth, Maganus, and Jin and nodded with a smile.
He turned back to Barbatos. “How have you been, Darius?”
“Michael,” Barbatos continued in his disbelief. “You are not supposed to be here.”
“Neither should you be, Darius.”
Barbatos struggled for a reply like a helpless child.
“You have grown strong. I can see the legions you now command.”
“I defeated your Angels, Michael, I am better than them!” Barbatos gleamed with a child reporting his achievements. “All of them.”
“This victory does not merit celebration.” the Archangel asked. “victory over old friends warrant pride?”
Barbatos’s face swelled. “This is my day.” He asserted with veins bulging at his temples.
Archangel shook his head. “My child.”
“What is it?” Lord Barbatos strained to hear Michael’s reply, which was whispered.
“This is not the day for the Demons.” Michael turned grave. “Not today, Darius,” he said in arctic coolness. “This is just not your day.”
Before Barbatos could utter another word, Michael opened his palms and an immense light from the portal grew into explosive proportions as it swept across the land, sending crushing waves of power. The white power obliterated all elements of darkness in its path—Familiars, Demons, Gargoyles, and Trolls— melted like snow under the blistering heat.
Barbatos was raised from the ground and hurled like unwanted doll into the depths of the woods. Tried as he might, he was powerless to halt the manifestation of Archangel’s powers. Soon a burning sensation engulfed him. He was on fire, flames from the cauldron of Heaven, a weapon so destructive that only Archangels are allowed to carry them.
Barbatos tried to extricate from the fire, but it was futile.
Count Raum, commander of the armies, tried to shield himself as well but was scorched. His armies vaporized as shearing cries for mercy were drowned by echoes of agony.
Archangel Michael turned towards Castle Valmar and cast a wave. Instantly a breeze of fire fell on the roof and consumed the structure premise like it was made of paper. The fire turned it into an incendiary ocean that engulfed the bastion of the Demons. Tremours shook the ground as all things dark and evil were consumed by the powers of the Archangel.
After a brief moment, the Archangel exercised his compassion and put out the fire. Then he snapped his fingers. In quick procession, the surrounding lands, only moments earlier blanketed in darkness, transmuted into thriving woods of green and gold, devoid of bloodshed and carcasses.
Archangel Michael walked up to the Guardian Angels, his trusted soldiers, Each of his steps brought a path of light that cleansed the dirt, dust, and blood. With grace, he extended a hand to them. A path of light fell on the Angels as their wounds healed and the traces of battle on their faces faded away. Within seconds, the Guardians had regained their halos and ambience of faith and strength.
They rose and bowed in thanks.
The Archangel turned to Sarah Springs who was still clasped her hands in prayers. He looked on with benevolence for a long moment. Michael turned towards Gwyneth, their eyes met momentarily and then he looked at Sarah again. There was brief moment of communication and Gwyneth nodded her understanding.
The Archangel then bent over and touched the girl on the head. Instantly a halo grew over her head. Michael turned to Mathew and blinked. He clasped his hands and touched Mathew’s forehead with his pointer finger. The gaping wound on his chest healed and a light of serenity displaced the grey of death. Mathew, however, remained still.
The Archangel nodded at his solders again before he mounted his horse and withdrew into the portal. The screen of light faded gradually and the winds died away.
In place of the dead woods, a blanket of red and blue flowers bloomed at the first light of dawn. A chorus of chirping brought relief to the survivors of the night of darkness. No one spoke as they adjusted to the dramatic turn of events and drastic shift of their plight—from certain extermination to last-minute salvation.
A miracle. Finally.
The remaining forces of the Angels—fairies and dwarves—regrouped to take stock of their losses. There were healing sessions for the injured followed by silent prayers for the dead. Amidst the solemnity of mourning, there was much relief at a miraculous victory that had seemed impossible moments earlier, but was eventually sealed by the act of a insignificant human.
Amongst the scenes of emancipation stood a sole figure, draped in the graying grief of bereavement —Sarah Springs. She had been unmoved by the appearance of Archangel Michael, already deeply locked in her veil of sorrow.
She had her hand in Mathew’s, and his in hers, tightly as always was their bond. She rubbed away the stains of blood on his mouth and rubbed his hands gently as a mother would do to her child, as she searched his body for the warmth of a living being.
Sarah wept, initially in silence, then aloud to release the wrenching sorrow that she had submerged during the fighting. The White Angel walked over and gently wrapped her arms around Sarah. “My dear …”
“Mathew is dead,” she said as rolls of tears streamed down her cheeks. “Dead.”
Sorrow was not Sarah’s alone. Maganus staggered over to Mathew’s corpse and wept quietly.
A stoic Jin joined them and said to Sarah, “Mathew was selfless and placed our lives and yours, above his own. A lesser man would cower in fear, but not Mathew. The human race should be proud to have him as a kingling.”
“Mathew will be happy to hear that.” Sarah managed to say in a frail voice.
“Mathew will be very happy to know you performed the miracle.”
“What actually happened just now? Was that …?” Sarah asked.
Gwyneth smiled. “He was the Archangel.”
“Archangel Michael?” Sarah asked, her face filled with surprise.
Gwyneth nodded and Jin asked Sarah, “What did you do? You brought Michael to come here.”
“I did not,” she said. “How could I possibly bring him here? I simply prayed.”
“Sarah, this is unusual. God had forbade Archangels from interfering with the affairs of humans, unless under very special circumstances. His arrival was a miracle. You have performed a miracle. That explains what Barbatos’s inferences about your special status.”
“I’d never expected…” Sarah said.
“Barbatos was right to be worried.” Jin commented.
Sarah’s eyes grew in disbelief. “Me?”
“What did you prayed for?” Jin inquired.
Sarah hesitated before continuing.
“I wished I was the next to die after Mathew. Living with the sorrow of losing Mathew was just like death. If anyone should die, let it be me. I hoped I am next and then Barbatos would stop his killing.” Sarah wept again. “I prayed to let it be me, pray my death could bring safety for all of you.”
