The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

She smiled. “No, but my brother is here and they’re offering housing and a fair salary for anyone who enlists. I spent everything I had on my ticket.”

  I noted her tattered cloak and dirty fingernails. She was a slummer, probably off the streets of Lohr. Lucifer was rallying the poor to fight for him with illusions of wealth. Heartless, but efficient.

  I didn’t respond, looking ahead. The line was getting shorter.

  “I wish you all the luck,” I said as a patrol guard waved me toward his booth. “Sorry, again.”

  The guard stuck his hand through a tiny hole in the window. I reached into my pocket, producing a boarding pass. He took it, glanced it over, and then glanced at me. I saw a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

  I had no belongings on me, nor did I appear to be in want of anything. I seemed like a normal, middle class citizen, and all the normal middle class citizens were in line to leave Avernai, being wealthy enough to buy their way out of the draft.

  “Purpose for your visit?” inquired the guard. He hadn’t asked the previous traveler that.

  “Enlistment,” I said, coolly.

  He studied my face, and my clothes. “You sure?”

  He was relaxed; a joke. I smirked.

  “I’m in need of a little excitement.”

  “Where are you coming from?” asked the guard, stamping my pass. There was no demand in his tone anymore.

  “Junah,” I said, thinking fast.

  He grunted, handing off my pass. “Hope the war is exciting enough for you. Don’t get killed before you finish training.”

  “Thank you.”

  I walked through the booth and into Avernai’s port terminal. The ambivalent smile on my face faded, replaced by a stoic frown. Behind me the woman I’d spoken to was getting detained for illegal transit because she couldn’t find her boarding pass.

  I entered the city, ignoring her cries and the pangs of guilt they caused. Not even three hours back and I’d already ruined someone’s life. Old habits.

  Avernai City was a baffling combination of Byzantium and Neolithic design. Not quite like old-Crylle, but reminiscent of it. It would have been a beautiful city, if not for the slums and dredges that filled its alleys and building stoops, stewing in the stench of burning garbage. Few civilian crafts soared overhead, and my frown turned from complacence to pity as I walked the streets, taking in the scenery.

  Most of the buildings were abandoned. Billboards atop them were flashing evacuation warnings.

  Lucifer was cleaning out this layer, it being nearest to Heaven and the most likely place of an attack. That explained the deserters, and also the draftees. They were building arms here to defend a first strike. The idea of Yahweh Telei and his angel army attacking anything still seemed so… confounding. Then again the Commander of the Argent Court was nothing like the boy I’d known. Time had stained him, too. There was no element crueler.

  Here was no place to wade in reverie, I had a mission to complete.

  I passed the recruiting station with my head down, having no intention of enlisting. Instead I followed the road that led to the spires of Avernai Parliament, devising a plan of getting by the guards stationed around the gate.

  The only plan I could think of would cost a few lives. So be it. Demons looked like Nehel, but they were nothing more than angels in costume.

  It was late afternoon, and there was a shift-change in order. Shift-change was an ideal time for any infiltration, as the guards were tired and distracted with the idea of being relieved from duty. They would be careless.

  Some were already congregating around the entrance—not at their designated posts—chatting about things that didn’t pertain to their jobs. I moved through an alley a little less than a block away from the parliament gates, emerging at a spot less manned.

  There was one guard that looked extremely bored. He’d slid his visor up so I could see his face, pulse rifle lying limp against his shoulder. I surveyed the perimeter; not another guard for at least two blocks. He would do.

  I whirred in front of him, and he jumped, grasping for his rifle.

  And then his head exploded.

  I grabbed the guard’s body and sprinted back into the alley, crouching behind a dumpster. There was a homeless man sleeping in a door stoop at the other end of the alley—or maybe he was dead, I didn’t know—and the commotion didn’t even stir him. I stripped the guard’s corpse and then myself, suiting up. I wiped the blood and brain matter from the visor with my coat, covering the body with it thereafter.

  I re-emerged from the alley, now an Avernai Parliament Guard.

  Easy enough.

  There was another guard standing where my victim had been stationed. I almost froze, startled, but kept a casual gait.

  “Where were you?” he demanded.

  “Taking a leak.”

  That didn’t seem unusual, thankfully. “Couldn’t wait another five minutes ‘til shift change?”

  “No, I saw you coming.”

  “Catch you tomorrow morning,” he muttered, and I nodded farewell, heading through the gate with the other off-duty guards, right into parliament.

  I followed the herd for a few hallways, falling back as they descended a set of stairs. Hanging left, I traversed a shadowy corridor in search of a vacant room with a computer. I passed a records office, but heard activity behind the frosted glass window. Continuing on, I caught a glimpse of a server room sign on a door at the end of the hall. The door didn’t have a window like the records room, and it was locked when I tried the handle. Servers had computers to run them.

  I turned the handle a little harder, forcing the lock with ease.

  Click.

  I was greeted with tile floors, cool air, the quiet whir of machinery, and a row of vacant computer terminals. Bingo.

  I sat at the middle terminal, recalling Nephilim’s username and password. Avernai was dilapidated and I would assume the same of its database security. The Celestial Court account wasn’t even flagged as a breach. In a matter of moments, I was back within the Plexus private archives.

  And then a rumble shook the parliament, accompanied by the sound of an explosion from somewhere outside. The lights flickered. I looked up.

  More explosions.

  Alarms sounded. A message blared from speakers in the hallway; all guards were to report to the gate.

  Fuck, really?

  I ignored the automated charge for now, too close to abandon my mission. All I needed was another couple of minutes, but I had to hurry.

  Heaven had come knocking.

  XI

  HEAVY RAIN

  Yahweh Telei—;

  “ONLY FOUR THOUSAND,” I whispered, watching clouds of argent jets blow Avernai’s gate into dust. “It’s a slaughter.”

  “A slaughter is good,” said Leid, watching too. “This will send a message to Commander Raith.”

  We stood within the protective glass walls of the Ezekiel navigation room, hovering ten thousand feet above the city. Frontline jets ceased their attack, retreating to our port. Ground assault poured over the wreckage, slaughtering demon soldiers scrambling to protect their city perimeter. Even up so high, I could still see blood running rivers down the streets.

  I turned away, unable to witness any more. My finger pressed the button on my headset. “Ground General Trede, remind your soldiers to avoid targeting civilians. The only bodies I should see are ones holding guns.”

  “Sir,” said Cereli, and then nothing more.

  Leid continued to survey the battle, not at all disturbed by the carnage. It was what she’d done for centuries, and had continued to do for me. For us.

  Four thousand against twenty; the odds were in our favor. It was all going exactly as we had planned. Storm Avernai and take the city—occupy their parliament and place Malphas Tremm into custody. Not an hour had passed and already half of our goal was met. Eventually Malphas would get cold feet as more and more of his soldiers fell, and he would flee to the cephalon. We had to reach parliamen
t before that happened.

  Cereli’s forces were halfway into the city, swarming over defending troops in an unrelenting wave of ammunition-fire. Black smoke billowed into the sky, obscuring the view.

  “She’s not going to make it,” I muttered, watching again.

  Leid said nothing, but her expression relayed agreement. She tapped her headset. “Zhevraine.”

  “Commander?”

  “Fetch the Archdemon.”

  Leid’s guardian emerged from the communications tower, gliding across the bridge. She was dressed in all black assassin-esque apparel. As Zhevraine boarded a transporter bound for a hot zone drop-off, she glanced up and nodded. Her image faded with the transporter as they disappeared into the smoke.

  I glanced at Leid, confused. “Can’t you two speak to each other inside your heads?”

  “Yes, but that would be rude. I am an advisor, and an advisor doesn’t keep her Commander out of the loop.”

  “Can we deactivate the cephalon?” I asked.

  “We can, but the configuration panel is inside parliament. It has to be, since our jets already brought down the silos powering the city. There must be a backup generator in Avernai’s central house.”

  “You should tell Zhevraine—”

  “That’s her first objective.”

  Advisor my left foot. Leid was always twenty steps ahead of me. I might as well have handed her my Argentia crest. If only.

  I wouldn’t short-change this victory. It might be our only one.

  For weeks I’d been wracked with panic, and still the idea of being here seemed wrong. But surrendering Heaven would be worse. Lucifer had backed me into a corner; I had no choice but to fight. And by evening the angels would have Avernai.

  Only six more layers to go.

  XII

  CONVERGE

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  THE ANGELS HAD ALL BUT TAKEN THE LAYER, and the explosions grew fewer and farther in between. One explosion felt a little too close to home, and the subsequent alarm relayed a parliament breach.

  Time to go.

  I darted out of the server room, leaving the Nexus archive on the console screen. Didn’t matter now.

  Sprinting up the stairs, I stopped at the top for a moment to glance over the area map. Avernai Cephalon was in the eastern spire. I was in the north. That meant I had to cross a giant glass mezzanine and risk getting shot at. Awesome.

  I pushed my speed to its limit, blurring down the hall. Surely someone had seen me, but I’d been far too fast for a target lock, and they had probably stopped to scratch their heads, wondering what could move that fast.

  The cephalon was deactivated.

  On cue, all the lights died within the terminal.

  A demon was huddled in the corner, clutching at a portal pillar. He waved a gun at me. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I recognized his face.

  Malphas Tremm, Archdemon of Avernai.

  “Protect me!” he cried.

  Wait, what?

  I spun toward the entrance, just in time to see a silhouette blur into the terminal, coming right at me. I dove out of the way, and the blur changed trajectory at supersonic speed. Again, it lunged.

  I relieved myself to survival instinct and we became two blurs across the room. Within seconds I was pinned on the ground, my assailant’s arm crushing my neck, careful not to slice me with her scythe.

  Zhevraine.

  She stared down at me, stunned. I used this opportunity to kick her off and dash for the mezzanine. I didn’t even make it off my knees before I felt the barrel of a pulse rifle against my helmet.

  “Don’t move,” warned a woman. She wore full plate armor, but I was able to match a face to the voice.

  Cereli Trede.

  Killing her wasn’t ideal. I hadn’t wanted to reunite with everyone like this, but life seemed to always have a way of fucking you.

  I yielded, saying nothing.

  Zhevraine ripped off my helmet, and I exhaled.

  Cereli recoiled, almost dropping the gun. “Alezair?”

  I looked up at her, and she blanched at the sight of my Nehelian eyes.

  Malphas was still huddled in the corner, blinking at us.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded Zhevraine.

  “Getting some answers,” I said. “Until you crashed the party.”

  “What happened to his eyes?” asked Cereli, staring at Zhevraine. “He looks like a demon.”

  Zhevraine ignored her question, tapping her headset. “Commanders, we’ve got a situation.”

  She waited.

  “Qaira’s here, dressed as an Avernai elite guard. He was protecting Malphas Tremm.”

  “Was not,” I muttered.

  “Qaira?” repeated Cereli, abashed.

  “As you wish,” murmured Zhevraine, looking back at me. “Are you going to come quietly or do I have to drag you to the Ezekiel?”

  “You taking me prisoner?”

  “Yahweh wants to speak to you.”

  “Someone needs to tell me what’s going on,” said Cereli, annoyed at our avoidance of her.

  “You’ll be filled in soon,” promised Zhevraine. She nodded at Malphas. “Take him. We’ll talk on the ship. Where are your soldiers?”

  “They fell back at the bridge, waiting for my signal.”

  “Tell them we’re clear.”

  I stood, dusting myself off, trying to salvage what little pride I had left. Zhevraine walked alongside me, staying on edge in case I tried to run. Cereli dragged Malphas behind us, his wrists bound in ion-cuffs. Their confusion seemed mutual.

  “Siding with the demons?” she asked, near-whisper.

  “I’m siding with no one.”

  “Why are you dressed as an enemy soldier?”

  “I told you, I was trying to get some answers.”

  “Answers to what?”

  I didn’t respond, and Zhevraine let the topic die, realizing there was more to this equation than she’d thought.

  ***

  The angel command ship, Ezekiel, was an image to behold. Nearly the size of central Avernai, it loomed over the capital, casting the city in shadow. The ship’s architecture was reminiscent of the Ark—what I could remember of it, anyway—crafted into a molecular illusion of spheres and luminary halos, rotating slowly over the hull.

  Avernai’s streets were teeming with corpses—mostly demon, salted with a few angels. Blood ran in streams between my boots, the smell of death and jet fuel permeating the air, brought in by the wind and smoke. Cinders and ashes fell like rain, and I kept my head lowered to avoid their singe.

  A transporter awaited Zhevraine, Cereli and her soldiers’ returns at the border waystation. As we ascended toward the command ship, I watched angel soldiers directing demon refugees out of the wreckage and to shelter inside the station. Apparently Yahweh’s game plan was to deliver hospitality to those whom they conquered; a little angelic ambivalence. Mercy and honor went a long way during war. Maybe he hadn’t changed so much after all.

  Or maybe Leid had advised him to play nice.

  I kept my head down as we boarded, too afraid to see who had come on deck to witness our arrival. As we were led into central headquarters, I caught a glimpse of Adrial in my peripherals, standing by the door as Zhevraine forced me inside.

  For a second, our eyes locked.

  Adrial said nothing as Malphas and I disappeared into the main corridor, but I could sense suspicion behind his gaze. It bothered me.

  Cereli and her guards led Malphas down a separate hall, while Zhevraine guided me toward an interrogation room. I squinted against the fluorescent lights as she gestured to the table and two chairs in the center of the room.

  I didn’t budge.

  “I’ll be right outside should you try anything,” she warned, shooting me a look.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “No,” she said.

  She left without another word. I heard the door lock behind her; not that that would stop me from e
scaping, but Zhevraine certainly could. She was a seasoned guardian, double my speed and strength. Having no other choice, I sat on one of the chairs.

  Leid was here somewhere. Here on this ship, undoubtedly aware that I’d been captured. The idea of her walking through that door quickened my pulse. This wasn’t how I wanted to see her again. This wasn’t how our reunion should have gone.

  I hadn’t wanted a reunion at all—only to learn what had happened after Sanctum’s fall. Coming to The Atrium was a mistake. I’d known that, but the transcendental pull had left me powerless in its grasp.

  Footsteps echoed through the wall. I heard an exchange of words from behind the door. The handle jiggled, and I braced myself.

  My first visitor was not Leid, but Yahweh Telei.

  I exhaled, relieved. As much as I didn’t want to be here, I did have a few things to say to him. Our gazes locked as he sat across the table. He wasn’t a boy anymore, but a young man scarred and unflappable. Dressed in a suit and mantle adorning the crest of Argentia, something I had last seen worn by Commander Raith, he had the look and demeanor of Archaean Commander. Impressive, nonetheless.

  “We meet again, Qaira Eltruan.”

  As Alezair Czynri I hadn’t felt nostalgia at hearing his voice, deeper and authoritative, sucked dry of youth and naiveté. It reminded me of all the things I’d lost—time, especially.

  I reclined, building a stony façade.

  Unfazed by my lack of response, he smiled. “You already told Zhevraine that you haven’t allied with the demons, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “Your war is the least of my concerns.”

  “Then what are you doing in Avernai?”

  “I’m not telling you anything until you give me what I’m due.”

  Yahweh tilted his head. “And what do I owe you?”

  “An apology.”

  Amusement wicked across his face. “You want an apology for almost killing me?”

  “An apology for using my blood will suffice.”

  His amusement faded quickly; now he looked at me with dark revelation. He’d figured out what I was doing here.