by M. R. Forbes
“Who, or what, in the soul of the Father are you?”
“I’m Gant,” he said. “I’m the Queen’s Champion.”
Azul’s eyes turned back to Rezel. “What game are you playing, Rezel?” he asked.
“It’s not her game,” Abbey said, her demonsuit shimmering as she faded into view. She was standing right behind Rezel, who stepped aside at her appearance. “It’s mine.”
Azul stared at her. The anger was obvious. So was the interest. “You’re the Sharder Prophet Thraven told me about.” He paused. “You called the surrender, then?”
“Nope,” Abbey said. “Rezel surrendered her forces to me.” She paused and then smiled. “Oh. Wait. I get it. You thought she was surrendering to you, didn’t you? I’m so sorry. It’s my mistake.”
Azul glanced at Rezel, and then back at Abbey. The rest of the soldiers rose from their prostrate positions, the Rejects among them. A moment later, the Asura Legionnaires appeared around the perimeter.
“What is the meaning of this?” Azul said.
“It’s a game, like you said,” Abbey replied. “So, you know my good friend Gloritant Thraven. How is the old shit these days?”
“He’s well,” Azul said, eyes still surveying the area around them. “He sends his regards.”
“How kind of him,” Gant said.
“Very,” Abbey agreed.
“He also said that he’s very sorry about your daughter.”
Abbey’s face stiffened. “What did you say?”
“Your child, Hayley. Oh, I know you thought she was safe with Captain Mann.” It was Azul’s turn to smile, and he did, widely and sharply. “She wasn’t.”
Abbey started to shake; her anger grew so quickly. “What did he do to Hayley?” she managed to get out.
“Nothing yet.”
“Queenie?” Gant said.
Abbey continued to shake. Her eyes began to blur, and she could sense the Gift moving within her, writhing like a serpent.
“What were you saying about a game?” Azul said, staring at her, enjoying her sudden discomfort. “I’d love to play.”
Abbey stared back at him. She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. She was overwhelmed with fury. “It’s called, I’m going to kill you,” she slowly hissed.
“Are you?” He backed up a step. “Very well. You’ve got the drop on me, I admit. We could just start fighting one another, but I propose an alternative. Let’s avoid the needless damage to precious resources. What do you say? The Light of the Shard against the Prophet Azul for control of Jumol?”
“No,” Abbey said.
“No?”
“I want more. Your ships. Your slaves.”
“You want my Unders?” He shrugged. “I don’t know why, but if you insist. And if I win, Gehenna is mine.”
“Fine.”
Azul smiled. “We have a deal.” He turned to his Immolents. “See that the terms are carried out.” They bowed their heads ever so slightly. “The rest of you, step aside.”
Rezel moved back with her Venerants. The Immolents left Azul’s side, giving him space and leaving him standing alone with Abbey.
“You don’t know what you’ve just agreed to, Cage,” he said.
Abbey closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She had always known this could happen. She had always known Thraven might get his hands on Hayley. She had done her best to prepare for it. Hearing that he had captured her was difficult, but not as difficult as she had made it seem. Hayley was a tough kid. Abbey was sorry her daughter had gotten caught up in this. She wished she could have made it all go away. But wishing didn’t make things happen.
Actions did.
She opened her eyes again. “You don’t know what you just agreed to,” she replied, backing away from the Prophet.
“What are you doing?” Azul asked.
“Ahem,” Gant said. Azul turned his eyes toward him. “I told you, asshole. I’m the Queen’s Champion.”
“He fights in my place,” Abbey said. “Enjoy. I know I will.”
“You expect me to fight this rodent?” Azul said.
“Hey, that’s rude,” Pik said. “He’s a freak-monkey.”
“Squirrel-man,” Benhil corrected.
“Do you guys mind?” Gant said, at the same time he drew his sword. He looked back at Azul. “Let’s do this.”
Azul sneered, a blade forming from his Gift. “I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to roast you.”
Gant responded by jumping at Azul, bringing his blade up into the Prophet’s face. Azul stumbled a step, parrying the blow. Gant flipped backward and landed smoothly, chittering in amusement.
“What’s funny?” Azul asked.
“Knowing that you’re screwed,” Gant replied.
Azul put up his hand, a gout of flame launching from it toward Gant. He didn’t even try to move, letting it wash over him, the naniates refusing to go near him.
“Uh-oh,” Gant said. “Got any other party tricks?”
Then he charged for real, slipping beneath Azul’s legs, slicing the Prophet’s left calf as he passed under, forcing Azul to a knee. He came up behind him, swinging hard to remove his head.
The Gift caught the blade, which wasn’t immune, holding it in place a centimeter from the flesh. Azul threw his elbow back, catching Gant and knocking him away, forcing him to leave the sword behind.
Azul turned around, throwing Gant’s sword back at him. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding it. It hit one of Rezel’s soldiers further behind them, killing the slave.
“Foul,” Pik yelled.
Azul ignored him, using the Gift to grab the nearby debris.
Abby cringed. She had expected Gant to finish him with one blow, not give him a chance to start throwing things.
But Gant didn’t seem impressed. He started walking back toward Azul in a nonchalant, dance like stutter step that left her waiting for him to start snapping his fingers. Could Gant snap their fingers?
The Prophet released the stream of debris, sending it hurtling toward Gant. Gant didn’t even look at it. It came near him, veering away at the last second, surrounding him but not touching him.
“It won’t hurt me,” Gant said. “No matter how hard you try.”
“How?” Azul said.
“I don’t know. Just lucky I guess.”
He moved in, jumping at the Prophet, hitting him hard in the chest with his fist, bouncing to his arm, kicking him in the face and swinging around to his back. He produced a second, smaller knife from his boot, bringing it around and putting it against Azul’s neck.
“It would have been a lot easier to cut your head off with the sword,” he said, dragging the blade across the Prophet’s flesh.
Azul cried out, his body flaring into flame, which exploded outward toward the crowd.
Abbey lifted her hands, reaching out with the Gift and driving it back, keeping it contained. She could see Gant sitting on the Prophet’s burning shoulders, the flames traveling across him. Azul wrenched the blade out of his hands, sending it to the ground. Gant responded by holding on and twisting his neck, cracking it.
Azul fell, momentarily paralyzed by the damage. The Gift would heal it quickly.
“Gant,” Abbey said, pushing her Uin to him. Maybe it was cheating, but Azul had cheated first. He would have burned as many as he could if she hadn’t stopped it.
Gant caught the weapon, spreading it as Azul woke up, turning over on the ground to look up at Gant, just in time to see the blade drop on his neck, slicing cleanly through.
The flames vanished.
Gant jumped off him, leaning over and breathing hard for a second. Then he straightened up. “How was that, Queenie?” he asked.
“Great,” she replied. “But what was with the little dance?”
“Dramatic effect.”
“Wait a minute,” Benhil said. “If you’re totally immune, why don’t you just kill Thraven? What the hell are we even doing here?”
Abbey approached him, leaning down to kiss him on the head and eliciting a soft purr. Then she knelt beside Azul. His blood was flowing onto the pavement, thick with the Gift.
She stared at it. There would be consequences. She knew there would. There already were. She had accepted Lucifer’s Gift back into her system. She had let it take control, the same way the Seraphim Archchancellors had. The same way Charmeine had. She understood now that they had never succeeded in creating naniates to match the ones he had made. They have used Lucifer’s Gift as a base, not the Blood of the Shard. They had tainted themselves with it. They had tainted the Focus with it, beyond the ability to cleanse it completely.
That was why she had seen Lucifer’s face in it. That was why she could use it now.
The Shard was dead. Gone. Useless. The Light was ineffective. The dying ember of a lost demi-god. There was only one power in this universe.
Lucifer’s power.
The only difference was in the soul of the Gifted. Good, evil, in-between. Some could control it. Some could resist it, at least for a while. And some like Azul or Thraven gave in completely.
If that was the case, were they really running the show?
She had her ships, thanks to Rezel and Azul. She had her crew in the Freejects and whichever soon to be released slaves would agree to join them. She had the Covenant and the Focus, and she knew how she wanted to use them.
There was only one more thing she needed.
“Queenie?” Gant said, noticing her lingering gaze at the blood.
“He has Hayley,” she said, looking at him.
“I know.”
“I have to do something.”
“I know.”
“It will make me stronger.”
“It will make you into a monster.”
“If you can’t beat them, join them?” she said, smiling weakly. She didn’t want to become what Phlenel had shown her. But knowing what she knew now, what choice did she have?
“I’m with you,” Gant said. “Forever.”
She felt the tears run from her eyes and down her cheeks. These were decisions no one should have to make. These were days no one should have to live through.
She leaned down over Azul’s body.
Then she drank.
45
Belial felt the change the moment the Prophet Azul was killed. He didn’t need to see it to know it was so. He had been connected to the naniates for longer than any other Seraphim alive, save for one. He had been there when the Shard had tried to speak to them of the glory of their mission, and the sanctity of the Covenant.
He had heard the words. He had witnessed the actions.
He knew it all for the lie it was.
It was a shame so many of his brothers and sisters had been unable to see the truth. It was a shame they had been forced to manipulate the data to prove their point. Yes, there had been plans to build a new Elysium Gate and return home. But what the Seraphim didn’t know, and couldn’t know, was that the One wouldn’t welcome them home if they should ever return.
He would destroy them.
They had taken the design for the Gate not to trick their people, but to save them. There would be time to build the Gate later, and when they did, they would be sure to have enough of an army, enough control of the naniates, enough of everything that the One would be the one to fall, and the Seraphim would finally be free.
Millions of humans would die, it was true. So what? Humans were the One’s design, as were the others. The Plixians, the Atmo, the Rudin. They were tools and had always been intended as tools. First for the One, and now for the Nephilim. For the Seraphim. They were the true race, not the Unbelievers who still thought the One would raise them to a new understanding of the universe. There was no higher understanding.
There was only life and death, and in creating new life, the One had sought their eventual death.
How was that fair, or right, or just?
It wasn’t.
Belial knew the time had come. The Father had made many Promises long ago, and they were Promises the Father intended to keep. The pieces had all been set into motion, the long game coming, not to an end, but to a beginning. This was where it all started, not where it concluded.
The war against the One.
The war to regain Elysium and from Elysium the rest of the multiverses where the Seraphim had been sent. Where the Seraphim had gone to live as slaves to the Shards and eventually fade away into obscurity.
Lost.
Forgotten.
Alone.
He bowed his head at the thought, holding his hands over his eyes to catch his tears.
So many had fallen. There had been too much time for weeping. That time was ending, too. The Covenant was here, and there were promises to keep.
Belial wiped his eyes, and then rose and walked the length of the shrine. Smooth rock and flickering candles flanked him on each side in decidedly low-tech reverence. The Father had asked that it be so, that they remember the basest of who and what they were, without the trappings of ease that came with ever increasing knowledge. It reminded them to look inward. To seek the truth within themselves. It bolstered their resolve.
He wasn’t without compassion. It wasn’t the fault of the humans and the rest their creator had betrayed his original chosen race. The One had come to the Seraphim not out of benevolence, but to use them, manipulate them, and enslave them so subtlety that most of them couldn’t see it.
The tool wasn’t to blame for the actions of its handler.
Not that it changed the fate of the tool.
He reached the end of the shrine, coming upon a long, raised box. A dozen opaque tubes ran in and out of it, and while their contents were invisible Belial know what each one was for. The top of the box was nearly as opaque, but a close enough inspection revealed the outline of a face beneath a frosted-over transparency.
He placed his hands on top of the device, which responded by displaying an interface beneath his palms. His eyes scanned it quickly. Once this was done, there would be no turning back.
There was already no turning back. The time had come. His days as Caretaker were about to end.
He tapped on the surface, initiating the release sequence. Text streamed across the surface of the device as all of the protocols were run one after another, ensuring a successful exit. Then the device began to rumble, deep and low as the temperature inside started to rise.
Belial watched the system for a few minutes, and then stepped back, retreating nearly halfway down the shrine, joining his hands and bowing his head. His heart pounded, his excitement building.
It had been so long since he had spoken to his oldest friend, and his oldest friend had been able to speak back.
The device continued to operate, the tubes around it suddenly filling with thick red liquid. It was delivered to the internal cavity, filling the capsule and enveloping the figure inside.
Belial’s skin started to tingle, his Gift responding to the sudden flood of naniates within the chamber.
As he had known when Azul was killed, he was acutely aware of when his friend was brought back to life, lifted from the stasis that had held him for so long.
And then, suddenly, the rumble subsided, and the shrine was silent once more.
Belial didn’t move. He remained fixed; head bowed, hands clasped in front of him across his dark red robes. He couldn’t see the top of the capsule slide apart. He couldn’t see the hands that gripped the sides for leverage. He wanted to look, but he didn’t. To do so would prove a complete lack of faith.
And he had always been the most faithful.
“Belial,” the voice said. It was deep and strong. The voice of a leader.
Only when he was called did he look up. He felt the lightest touch of fear at his friend’s appearance. In the years that had passed, he had forgotten the toll the naniates had taken and the way they had cha
nged him.
“Father,” Belial replied, smiling. “It is time.”
Chaos of the Covenant Book Seven, Queen of Demons, is coming soon. Want to know when it’s out? mrforbes.com/queenofdemons
Author’s Note
Welcome back! And more importantly, thanks for reading Good Intentions. Since this is the penultimate novel in the Chaos of the Covenant series, I really hope you’ll be back at least one more time for the final novel, Queen of Demons, where all of the chaos that’s been building over the last six books will come to a head. It’s going to be awesome!
From the A Little Bit Confusing Files - Covenant vs Covenant. I realized this when I went back to italicize the ship names. If you thought it was a formatting error, hopefully it wasn’t. When it’s in italics I’m referring to the Shardship, when it isn’t, I’m referring to the written Covenant (either the Seraphim or Nephilim version).
You probably noticed that Gant made a few obscure references to things over the course of the book, in an effort to prove to himself that he was losing his intelligence (is he really?). I figured I’d put them down here in case you had any interest in digging in a little deeper:
1. Maitotoxin - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maitotoxin - a poison with one of the longest chemical chains of any molecule.
2. Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birch_and_Swinnerton-Dyer_conjecture - a currently unsolved problem in the field of number theory. If you can figure it out, you can claim a $1,000,000 prize :)
3. Euler’s Number - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E_(mathematical_constant) - one of the most important numbers in mathematics. My wife challenged me to fit this into the story. Mission accomplished.
Since you’re on book six, you’ve already read my pleas for reviews multiple times already. If you’ve left a review on any or all of the prior books, thank you, thank you, thank you. I honestly do appreciate the time you’ve taken to put in a few good words for me. There are over five million books on Amazon now, so every little bit helps me to stand out from the crowd.
