Jonas had been in the library for half an hour when he heard that silvery voice behind him.
“Hello, Cousin.”
He turned with a smile, “Mine’s the pleasure, I assure you.”
Leigha crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, “I must admit to being surprised at your departure earlier today. I had not thought humans capable of such…creativity.”
Jonas chuckled, “I know very few who are.”
She regarded him for a moment, then dropped her arms to her sides and closed the door behind her. “So what is it you need, exactly?”
“Two things. First, I need to see your texts on the Demonic Presence.”
At that Leigha felt a chill run through her. He knew. Jonas had read the signs correctly, just as the Angelus predicted. And now he was here.
“And the second subject of inquiry?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“I need texts from the War.” Jonas said matter-of-factly. “And more specifically, I need texts pertaining to the Kholodym.”
Leigha frowned, “Why?”
Jonas' face grew grave, “Because not all their magic was purged from the land.”
Leigha shook her head, deciding not to ask any more questions for the moment. “The books in the front of the library are the most recent. If you’ll follow me, Prince Belgi.”
He followed his cousin, noting that the light became dimmer the deeper into the library they traveled. After a few minutes Jonas began to get a true sense of what comprised most of the space in the tiny palace.
They finally entered into a narrow room, the dust covering the tabletops providing some idea how frequently these rooms were used.
“Here,” she said, waving her arm along a wall, “are all the books dating back to the War. The ones referencing the Kholodym Dominion are at the back, those on the Presence are in this front cabinet. Is there anything else you require?”
“Yes,” Jonas said quickly, “I require that you stay here and help me.”
She looked surprised, “Really? I thought you’d rather be alone.”
Jonas shook his head, “I don’t know these books. It would take me ages to find what I’m searching for. I’d appreciate any help you could lend.”
Leigha shrugged, “As you wish. Grandfather said I was to help you however I could.”
She walked past him and began to pull volumes from the cabinet, “Any particular aspect of the Presence?”
“Yes,” Jonas said, trying to read the titles of the books she pulled, “anything that references the Cherubric Parchment.”
Leigha laughed and handed him a thick red text. “Here you are. The Cherubric Parchment, in full.”
Jonas' eyes widened, “I didn’t know a copy of this still existed.”
Leigha smirked, “That’s not a copy. As far as the rest of the world knows, it was destroyed in the last Age. And we’d prefer to keep it that way.”
Jonas sighed and nodded.
The angels had their secrets and they guarded them zealously. This was a core component of the Angelic Faith, but as such it was also incredibly dangerous.
The angels had spent millennia guarding the raw contents of the document, disseminating the pieces they deemed fit for mass consumption, while guarding some of its more controversial passages for only the most enlightened and educated of the fold.
The book wasn’t even supposed to exist, much less leave the sacred protection of the tiny island.
But he was a prince among angels, just as he was amongst the Ilyari, and in return for his discretion and silence, certain protocols could be circumvented.
The gravity of the moment was not lost on him.
Leigha watched him for a long moment, finally seeming satisfied that they understood one another. She returned to the shelves, moving farther back into the room, “What aspect of Kholodym Dominion is of particular interest?”
“I’m looking for information about something called the Zra-Uul.”
A cloud of dust fluttered up from where Leigha had dropped one of the ancient texts. She quickly snatched it up, dusted it off, and slid it back into its place. She looked at him curiously, then nodded.
“Very well. Come with me.”
CHAPTER 34
The Colors of Betrayal
THE DOOR BANGED open and Andariana stormed in, ignoring Sammul’s rising protest. She pulled back the curtains from his bed and gripped the front of his nightshirt.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
Sammul wiped the sleep from his eyes, startled at having the wards placed around his doors so unexpectedly shattered. “Whom, your Majesty?” he asked blearily.
She pushed him back onto the bed, “Don’t pretend ignorance. I don’t have time to play games. Now I want to know where they went, and I want to know now!”
“Majesty, if you’ll just be reasonable,”
“Reasonable?” she roared, “When half of Parliament vanishes in the middle of the night with nothing save a letter from the Chancellor citing ‘Unacceptable Doctrines of State’ as justification? Don’t you dare lie to me, Sammul. You were seen meeting with Perron yesterday. Don’t you dare pretend ignorance of this.”
Sammul had sufficiently woken now, and he fought to hide his own bemusement at the situation. “Majesty, I will admit that Chancellor Perron came to me for counsel yesterday. But I urged him to bring his grievances to your Majesty in as diplomatic a means as he was capable. I never dreamed he would simply vacate the Palace!”
“And go where, Sammul? Where would he flee? To his lands? The man controls half the Southern Plain. His home is not fifty leagues from Igraan! Surely he would not be so stupid as to run such a short distance from my winter estate! Unless, of course, he means to press a civil war, at which point he wouldn’t much care, now would he?”
“Majesty,” Sammul said, sounding scandalized, “surely you do not believe that members of Parliament would press a civil war over something so trifling.”
“Trifling, Sammul? The suspicious death of one of the most powerful landed nobility, in combination with my unwillingness to press the point beyond summon the Lord Captain, is exactly the sort of thing Perron would seize upon. If he has been planning this, which I daresay he has, what better moment than the present to make his move?”
“But Majesty,” Sammul said patiently, “Lord Perron isn’t a member of the royal family. Even if he wanted to take your throne, the people of the realm would never stand behind him. He doesn’t have a drop of Belgi blood in him.”
“I know that,” Andariana snapped. “That’s what has me worried. If Perron is willing to take a risk like this, it means he’s either more foolish than I ever believed possible, or he’s found someone he thinks he can control. I don’t have to chase at phantoms to hazard a guess, either.”
“I’m afraid I’m at a loss, Majesty.”
She scowled. “Emelian Krasik was never executed, Sammul. And a madman may be unpredictable, but I daresay Perron is stupid enough to put one on the throne.”
Sammul stared at the Queen. How had such a thought even entered her head? Was it possible she was far more astute than he had ever believed?
“I want a statement issued to all the towns and cities where you sent the summons for Lord Captain Drago immediately. I need him more urgently than ever, but in his capacity as my Lord Captain, not as my prisoner.”
“Majesty?” Sammul asked, growing more alarmed.
“If Malak was in on all this, which I imagine he was, then he died a traitor’s death. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Lord Captain Drago, if he was responsible, has done us a great service by executing the late Lord of Relvyn, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Why…yes, of course.”
She breathed deeply for a moment, then nodded, “Thank you, Sammul. I…I apologize for the abrupt nature of my entrance, but I was rather taken with the shock of the moment.”
Sammul did his best to smile, “Quite understand
able, Majesty.”
“Well, good evening, High Magus.”
She swept from the room.
Sammul lay back against his pillow, vacillating between joy and despair. On the one hand, all their plans were falling beautifully into place. On the other, the Queen was far more intuitive than he had given her credit for.
It was only by lucky chance that Jonas was not also present, or Sammul would fear losing the scheme altogether.
Still, there was the chance that some enterprising fellow would deal with Drago for him. He could only begin to fathom his glee upon hearing that the Prince had dropped dead with his Knight. What a tragedy that would be!
Sammul smiled to himself. With any luck, Aleksei Drago would not set foot in Kalinor again for a long while. And by the time he made his way back, it would be too late.
Wherever Jonas had expected Leigha to take him, this wasn’t it. Rather than entering yet another dusty, time-forsaken storage room, the angel took him out of the library entirely. She walked back down the hall and into the office of the Angelus.
Jonas followed her, noting the surprised expression on Kevara Avlon’s face as her granddaughter reached into her bookshelves and withdrew a slender volume bound in pale blue leather. The front of the volume was marked with a curious emblem Jonas had never seen before.
“I believe this should prove sufficiently instructive.”
Jonas glanced down at the silver leaf on the front. He could hardly believe what he read.
The Properties and Constructions of Parasitic Energies. Jonas studied the curious mark that dominated the book's front. At first glance he’d assumed that the symbol had been tooled into the leather along with the lettering, but on closer inspection he realized that it had actually been tattooed onto into the flesh before the book had been bound.
“This….” he began softly.
“The binding is human.” Leigha confirmed, ignoring her grandmother’s scowl.
Jonas glanced up at his cousin, “I was actually going to say that this is Kholod. This symbol….” He had seen it only once before, in an ancient illustration kept in the depths of the Voralla, though it might as well have been burned into his mind’s eye.
At first glance it appeared to be a simple pictogram, an eight-pointed star rendered in red, bordered by a black circle. However, as Jonas examined the image more closely he realized that the symbol was actually composed of two separate four-pointed stars. One was long and thin, it’s black, needle-narrow points flaring to the four cardinal directions, puncturing the circle and dividing into four distinct arcs, each arc interrupted halfway by a black spike.
Each spike echoed the ordinal points of the second, smaller star, half the size of the first, but thicker, its center containing the core of its larger counterpart, while its points remained completely enclosed within the circle.
The symbol was remarkable for a variety of reasons, the most obvious being its base simplicity. Of all the symbols and diagrams Jonas had encountered during his studies, this single symbol remained the clearest, the most primitive in construction.
No symbol used to represent the Archanium, to teach Magus or angel, Ul'Brek or warlock, was comprised of so few elements. He had spent long nights in conversation with Ilyana and Aya about their own interpretations, but one common similarity had always been painfully present. This symbol existed wholly outside the Archanium.
Whatever it was, whatever it meant, there seemed no question that it was born purely from the occult practices of the Kholodym Dominion.
This was it. If the words on the page could be interpreted any number of ways, this symbol could not. Jonas knew that in his hands he held the answers he sought.
He smiled at his cousin, “Thank you for this. Could you please have this sent to my rooms with the Parchment?”
Leigha glanced uncertainly at her grandmother, who studied him for a long, tense moment before finally nodding.
“I’ll see to it.” she said simply, tucking both volumes under her arm as she left.
“Well, Jonas, are you satisfied?” Kevara Avlon asked, sitting back in her chair.
Jonas considered, “I can’t tell you. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”
She sighed, “As you wish.” And then she paused as she considered her grandson. “I see you’ve been paying attention.”
Jonas nodded gravely, “I’m pleased to see that I’m not the only one. I trust you’re taking the proper precautions?”
Kevara Avlon shrugged, “What can one do beyond a certain point? I’ve sent guards to watch the Cathedral. But enough books speak to the inevitability of our situation.”
Jonas' face darkened, “What are you talking about? Just because two gates have been opened in no way means that the Prime Gate will fail.”
The Angelus waved her withered hand at the shelves on either side of her. “There are prophecies in these books more ancient than you can imagine, and all point in the same direction. The Demonic Presence will be freed one day or another, it’s just a matter of when.”
Jonas could barely contain his horror, “Are you telling me that you’re resigned to the fact that this…this Pilgrim will succeed? That you’re going to allow him to free the Presence?”
Kevara Avlon scowled, “Don’t be obtuse. The Prime Gate still retains its seal. But don’t trust so deeply that the One-God won’t allow such a thing to come to pass, either. I sincerely doubt the entire Host could stop a Magus who’s managed to open the first two gates, especially if he has the Prime Key. Such a man has not come along in one thousand years, but if the One-God sees fit to permit such a thing now, so be it.”
“You understand,” Jonas growled, “that such blind faith only weakens you. As I recall, you’ve trusted such things in the past, and they have consistently failed you. But this time, your dogma goes beyond mere idiocy.”
The Angelus rose angrily from her chair, but Jonas fixed her with a glare so malicious that it gagged the words forming in her throat.
“I sincerely hope the rest of the world doesn’t pay the price for your complacence.”
He turned and walked from the room, finally coming to a halt at the edge of the Fount itself.
“Your words hurt her more than you know.” Malachai said from behind.
Jonas clenched his jaw and turned to regard his grandmother’s consort, “You’ll forgive me if my sympathy is limited.”
“She’s only doing what she thinks is right. It’s all she’s ever done.”
Jonas narrowed his emerald eyes, “Good intentions won’t rescue her when the Demon comes for her soul, nor will they stir my compassion.”
With that he shifted and flew across the Fount in a burst of wingbeats, returning to his human form the moment his feet touched solid ground.
Jonas turned and favored the older angel with a parting nod.
He sighed, pulling his mind from petty insults and anger too old to hurt any longer. If these books contained what he hoped, they would go a very long way in aiding his understanding of what Ilyar now faced. What the world faced.
Jonas turned on his heel, deciding it might be best to discover where his rooms were. He’d had as much of this sordid family reunion as he could safely tolerate.
While he’d first thought to find lodging in the city, the amenities of the Basilica had beckoned all too soon. After all, as the third-born Cherub himself, he apparently commanded quite auspicious quarters.
In short order he found the Offices of Residence. Upon presenting his name, Jonas was immediately led to a large suite overlooking the river. Two unassuming angels guarded the doorway, but neither acknowledged Jonas as he moved to open the door. He thanked his guide, then stepped inside and bolted the door behind him. No sense wasting time.
The books he had selected were already lying on a small marble table beside a divan near the large picture window, giving him the impression that his cousin saw a similar urgency in their situation.
&n
bsp; The small hours of the morning crept upon him before he even realized the sun had set. He was both hungry and exhausted, but he knew there was something more important that he needed dealt with.
It seemed an eternity since he’d last spoken with Aleksei, and now he desperately needed his Knight’s advice. More than that, he missed the man he loved. He wondered where he was, and how he was getting on.
Jonas laid down on the divan and closed his eyes. And then he began to search.
While distance did not exist within the Archanium, he still had to deal with the massive expanse of physical space that separated him from his Knight. At the moment, all he knew was that Aleksei was somewhere very far to the south.
Hours slipped by, but Jonas was resolute. He had done this many times before, though never from so far away. But while the distance seemed enough to cripple him, their bond was stronger than most.
What at first seemed like the glow of a candle began to burn brighter. The closer he got, the easier it became until he was practically flying towards his Knight’s sleeping mind.
“Aleksei.” he whispered.
A world opened up around him. Massive expanses of empty space fluttered out from under his feet and enveloped him in colorless mist.
Jonas concentrated.
Were he closer, it would have taken a mere thought to shift his environment from Kalinor Palace to Aleksei’s farm, to anywhere he could imagine. But strained as he was, Jonas decided it was best to use the room he currently occupied. Its image was freshest in his mind, and it required the least of his energies to replicate.
“Aleksei.” he whispered again. “Aleksei, I have need of you.”
He hated having to use the age-old phrase, the one he’d first used to lure the man to Kalinor. It felt so long ago that he had sought out a stranger. A stranger who had turned out to be the most important person in his life. A stranger he now loved deeply.
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