CHAPTER 23
Semjaza did look impressive standing there before us. It seemed he was a natural choice to be our leader. He was certainly the largest of us all, rising just a bit above Mikhael who was standing beside him now. I saw him in a different light almost immediately.
I knew of his strength and size from the games that we had played before the seraphim came calling. I also knew that he had a penchant for being spontaneous and sometimes a bit impressionable. He would not have been my first pick, but if the archangels had chosen him then I must have been missing something. I had complete confidence in their wisdom. I would call him my leader without question.
My favorite brother was called next. Of all the others, he was the one that I spent most of my time with. His size and strength were both average among our kind, but I found his wit and intelligence second to none. He was always able to make me laugh. They named him Azazel and, along with Semjaza, declared him to be the second of twenty decarchs, or rulers of ten, that would lead the rest.
I was confused almost immediately. Was Semjaza then just one of the twenty? Was he the leader of the twenty? I had just, albeit somewhat reluctantly, accepted him as my leader, and now I was being told that either eighteen or nineteen more leaders were going to be named. But hadn't they said just moments before that he was first among the Watchers? I didn't dare ask; I didn't want to appear difficult, and part of me still thought that the archangels might explain further after all the leaders were picked. Instead, I listened intently so that I might know the name of my own decarch.
After Azazel, Mikhael continued naming those that would become decarchs. In order, they were Arakiba, Kokabiel, Tamiel, Ramiel, Danel, Ezeqeel, Barakiel, and Asael. Besides Azazel, out of the first ten named I knew only the one they dubbed Kokabiel. Again it was mostly his size that set him apart from the rest. He was not quite as tall as Semjaza, but he may have been a tad thicker-his muscularity was second only to that of Mikhael's. His hair was golden also, and few of our kind had light colored hair. He had always seemed pleasant and a bit aloof from what I could recall. I remember standing there hoping that I would be under his command, when a most unexpected thing happened. Gabriel pointed directly at me.
At first, I was sure that it was a mistake. One of my brothers must be standing behind or beside me, and it was he that Gabriel was calling over. Surely I wasn't going to be named a chief of ten. There was nothing that set me apart from the rest. I had no special skills. But as I continued to look at Gabriel, it became clear that it was indeed me that he wanted. I was a bit embarrassed as I took my first step in his direction.
The seraphim were all smiling as I drew nearer to them. No doubt they found the astonished look on my face amusing. But by the time I got to where they stood, my embarrassment had faded and excitement had replaced it. I had convinced myself that I was just as qualified to lead as any of the others that had been chosen. It was in the hands of the seraphim after all, and their reasoning was surely sound.
Mikhael and Gabriel each extended an arm and placed it on my corresponding shoulder as I entered their circle. Bliss rushed from their fingertips and completely filled me up. I never wanted to be away from them again. Raphael stood directly in front of me, and he was the first to speak.
"You seem happy brother. Were you hoping to become a decarch?"
"No brother," I answered. "I thought perhaps I was mistaken when I first saw Gabriel motion for me to come over. I still don't know why I was chosen, but I have faith in those that chose."
"We three did not choose you, brother," Gabriel corrected. "But we know why you were picked to be a decarch. It is obvious to all that know you, but perhaps hard for you to see yourself."
"You are the most complete of the two hundred," Mikhael continued. "You are one of the largest, one of the strongest, one of the smartest, and the most reasonable and measured of the entire lot. We, along with others, have watched you and all of your brothers interact with one another since the day you were created."
"We have particularly enjoyed watching you Armaros," Raphael remarked casually.
And just like that . . . I had a name. Armaros. Raphael made it seem magical, mysterious, and powerful all at once when it rolled from his lips. He was grinning, and wondering if I had caught on to his intentional slip of the tongue. I had. I liked the way it sounded when spoken aloud. Arm-a-ros. It was good to have a name.
"What does it mean?" I asked. My eyes were looking ahead at Raphael, but my question was directed to any of the three that cared to answer.
"That will be up to you Armaros," Mikhael answered. "Your name is a blank canvas that will be painted by the choices you make and the actions you take. You have shown promise since your creation though. And by not thinking of yourself as a decarch but still trusting in the decision to make you one, you have shown that you possess two more very angelic traits-humility, and faith."
"It may even be that you are the one Armaros . . . to go beyond what has been fated," Raphael interjected. After he told me this, Gabriel and Mikhael immediately turned me to face my brothers and introduced me to them as one of their leaders and the eleventh among the watchers. I had been dismissed. But I would not forget what Raphael had said to me.
I knew it was another intentional slip. There was a message in his words that was hidden from me, and from their actions, I could tell that the seraphim didn't want to answer any more questions. The more I was around him, the more I learned that Raphael quite often said things that were confusing at first, but would make perfect sense eventually. And it did . . . eventually. In this case, however, eventually seemed like an eternity. Now, it seems like an eternity ago.
Either way, I had been named and I now had other things to concentrate on besides some obscure words muttered to me in haste. Although I would never forget them, I was decarch now, and I was sure that would entail some responsibility. I was determined to make the seraphim pleased with my ability to lead. As I walked over to where the other decarchs stood I began to think of ways to do just that. The answer became apparent soon enough.
After the last of the chiefs of ten was named, a very serious brother whom the archangels named Sariel, the naming process was expedited for the remaining brothers. The seraphim separated and walked amongst the one hundred and eighty that were left. They touched each of them on their shoulder and spoke their name aloud but once. Fortunately, all seemed to be paying close attention to the archangels, so no name fell upon deaf ears. Once they were all named, the seraphim motioned for the decarchs to spread apart. As soon as we were sufficiently separated, they sent nine of the remaining and freshly named brothers to each of us, and training ensued.
I decided straightaway that my first act as chief of ten would be to attack whatever training they threw at us with all the zeal I could muster. The nine others under my command seemed like a willing enough bunch, and it was important to me that they did well. The only way that I knew to ensure that happened was to lead by example and hope that they followed. If the seraphim deemed me unfit as a decarch, it wouldn't be from lack of effort.
Weapons training was to be the first order of business for my group of ten. We, along with four other troupes, were led a fair distance away from the pool to a spot where many two handed swords were stuck neatly into the ground in a perfect circle of fifty. I didn't know how long they had been there, but by now we were accustomed to things simply appearing in our once pristine residence, so the swords were no cause for disquiet. Without having to be told, we formed a circle of our own-one each behind every sword. There we awaited the direction of Mikhael, who had led us over and now stood in the center of our circle of soon-to-be warriors.
"Your sword shall become an extension of you," he began. "It is the only weapon that you should ever wield. These blades, like yourself, are made from bits of the Uncreated; therefore, you and they are one and the same, and you shall treat them as such. They have been formed by the Principalities who reside near the middle of the earth and labor under the watchful
eye of Cerviel their chief. They will not break, and they cannot be destroyed, but be careful how you wield them. They are one of the few items that can actually cause you significant harm.
I stared at the sword before me with new found respect. I knew of the Principalities-Gabriel had explained that they were angels from the third sphere who function as soldiers and artisans-and I understood that my great sword would be perfect. I wanted to pick it up so badly, grip the cruciform hilt in my hand, and feel the power and balance of its thrust. But I wouldn't . . . not yet . . . not until Mikhael told me to.
He reached over his right shoulder with his right hand and placed it under his raiment near the center of his massive back. With one graceful pull, he unsheathed his own previously hidden blade and revealed it to the rest of us. I could see right away that the only noticeable difference between his blade and my own was the color. While my sword, along with all the others in the circle, was brilliant silver, Mikhael's appeared to have a coppery hue that ran the length of its blade. It too was brilliant, and when he held it before us his entire persona changed. No longer did Mikhael the kindly teacher and mentor stand amongst us. Instead, Mikhael the warrior had come to light.
"You may remove your swords from the grass," he said. "Afterwards, I want each of you to take three steps backwards in order to create space between yourselves. You will need room in order to practice with your blades."
I pulled my sword from the firmament and held it closely before my eyes in order to inspect it more carefully. It was unscathed. Even the tip that I had pulled from the grass held no residue or blemish. I didn't know what was beneath that grass, but I had expected at least a smudge of something to be clinging to my blade.
I had also expected Mikhael to say more. He didn't. Instead he began to execute a series of very basic looking maneuvers with his sword. He would switch from one hand to two hands, from circular swings to stabbing thrusts, and then finish with a dodge and counter motion. At first I only followed with my eyes, but soon I was mimicking his every move with my own sword. The exercises felt very natural. The blade was comfortable and lighter than I expected. I felt like I had been created to wield this weapon.
As I continued practicing, I began to hear the sounds of my brothers nearest to me doing the same. Remembering the promise that I had made to myself, I interrupted my own training for a moment in order to look about and be sure that all who called me decarch were exercising also. They were. I was pleased, and my confidence in our group of ten grew as I saw the determination in their efforts. Satisfied, I returned to my own training just as an angel that I had never seen before plummeted into our midst. He was followed by a sound and a wind that together seemed they might rip our world apart.
I never looked away. Most had shielded their faces or turned away from the heart of the circle when he landed, but I had seen the angel racing down upon us and was not surprised when he touched down. His entrance neither startled nor impressed me. I was, however, interested. Already I knew that he was very different from the others.
There was no smile on his face as he straightened himself up to his full height and looked around the circle. In fact, as he turned and inspected us all with his chin jutting into the air a bit, he seemed quite unimpressed with the lot of us. That feeling was not mutual. I disliked this angel almost immediately, but I can't say that he was unimpressive.
His wings were the grandest of them all. He had six sets of them that he kept semi extended as he moved towards Mikhael. They decreased in size from top to bottom and emitted a silver brightness so intense, that it was hurtful to behold. Only after he completely relaxed them was I able to fully open my eyes.
As he approached Mikhael I could see that he was almost the exact height and build of our teacher. He looked bigger than all of us though because of the extra bulk of his tremendous wings. I could tell he was aware of this distinction by the way he stood painfully erect once he reached Mikhael.
The hair on his head was beyond dark. It was a blue-black color with very little curl. He wore it long like most of us, but instead of letting it hang loosely about his shoulders, he had it pulled back tightly away from his face and woven into a single braid that fell perfectly into the crevasse between his wings. His skin had a red cast to it. It wasn't apple red, but it looked like perhaps he was burned a bit by the sun. I remember wondering when I first saw him if that was his usual color, or had he flown to close to one star or another.
His face was handsome, but not kind. The cleft in his prominent chin was very distinguished. His cheekbones were high and prominent also. He was lacking any roundness or fullness; his face was all angles and severity. I can't remember anything worth noting about his eyes.
All of my brothers were watching along with me. They had quickly recovered from the shock of the angel's entry, and were now sauntering over to their original positions. The circle was soon complete, and it was maybe a little tighter than before. Fifty pairs of eyes looked upon the two seraphim that stood near the center of it. None of them knew what to expect.
"Starting without me Mikhael?" the angel asked. His voice was intoxicating. I found myself wanting him to say more. Fortunately, he also seemed to like the sound of his voice and was happy to oblige. "You know that our new brothers would benefit from my knowledge of all things relevant to their eventual posts. Especially the sword. I have no equal with a blade. They should see me with one. I think it would behoove them to do so. Don't you Mikhael?"
I looked to my teacher for his reply. He wore a look of defiance upon his face. His answer was a bit too long in coming. "Perhaps Sammael," he said. "But I'm afraid that our brothers don't-
"Viceroy," the angel called Sammael interrupted. "I am to be called viceroy by all. Even you Mikhael."
Our teacher's grin returned when he heard the heightened tone of Sammael's voice. It was more mischievous looking than normal. I knew then that he had deliberately provoked the other seraph. This bantering between the two was apparently nothing new.
"Perhaps viceroy," Mikhael stressed. "But I'm afraid that our brothers don't even know who you are, seeing as how you have never visited them before . . . viceroy." I didn't know if Sammael caught the sarcasm in Mikhael's voice. If he did, he chose to ignore it, but it was there. His lack of respect for Sammael was obvious. I was surprised to see two seraphim behaving this way. I remember thinking that perhaps I had been holding them too high above the rest of us. Maybe I had been naive putting them on a pedestal, and they were not so different from us. The thought was as uncomfortable as the tension that hung thick in the air, making us all a bit uneasy. Not one of my brothers nor I knew where this was headed. Conflict was a stranger to us all.
Sammael turned away from Mikhael and began to walk slowly around the inside of the circle. He looked into the eyes of each of us as he passed; his air of superiority was in full display as he began his introduction.
"Forgive me," he said in an overly dramatic fashion. "Forgive me for not neglecting all of my heavenly duties so that I could be here to hold the hands of you two hundred Watchers. Forgive me for not being here when good Mikhael, dear Gabriel, and sweet Raphael first enlightened you and explained about how things are done here. But I'm sure that they mentioned something called the 'celestial hierarchy' to you, did they not?" He stopped where he was and spun around so that he could see all of us. I found myself nodding in answer to his question. Many of my brothers were doing the same.
"Good," he continued. "Then you will be able to better understand just who I am. My given name, as you heard from Mikhael here, is Sammael. But you are to call me viceroy. That is the title given to me by the Uncreated. I rule heaven in his stead, and like God, my true name is not to be uttered.
I was first among the winged to be created, a fact that has never set well with Mikhael here. I am spawned from fire-the heart of God-and only particles of the Uncreated exist within me. Over four hundred million angels answer to me either directly or indirectly, and I take my responsibilit
ies very seriously. The celestial hierarchy they told you about, well that begins with me. I am at the top. You are at the bottom. I have looked upon the face of God. You shall never see it. So once again, forgive me Watchers for not being here when your teachers deemed it appropriate that I should be."
As he finished his introduction, he also completed his walk around the circle. He was back near Mikhael who looked as if he was about to deliver his own monologue. But he didn't. He swallowed whatever it was he wanted to say, and forced himself to remain there, his grin still apparent. Sammael managed a grin of his own as the two faced off.
"Shall we demonstrate proper sword technique for our new brothers?" the viceroy asked.
"I think they would find such a demonstration highly educational . . . Sammael."
The viceroy drew his sword from over his shoulder before Mikhael even finished speaking. He made no attempt to hide neither the anger spreading across his face nor the determination in his movements. This latest insult would not go unpunished. I feared my teacher would be cleaved in half as the viceroy, who never slowed the motion of his sword as he pulled it from its scabbard, swung downward in a great arc-his blade directed at Mikhael's forehead.
The Peacock Angel: Rise of the Decarchs Page 35
