by Mark Tufo
“Do you feel powerful when you do things like that?” I mocked him as I swung for his neck. It was a gambit, the hope being that I could get close enough to use my secondary weapon and bury the head deep into some vital part of him. The blade nicked the bottom of his bent elbow; he thrust both his arms out, lifting me a foot off the ground and five feet back.
“How dare you! You insignificant pile of refuse! I care for you like you care for the cockroach that rummages through your walls. That is how far above you my station is. Your kind are nothing more than a tenacious infestation.”
“Funny thing about roaches.” I had stopped my backward progress. “Tough as hell to kill them and they terrify me.”
“Are you in any way implying that I should be frightened of you?” he scoffed.
He would have continued but I cut him short with both my words and my attack. “Not once in all my years of being alive has a cockroach ever drawn blood from me. Yeah, I’m thinking you should be afraid. And you know what? Now that you mention it, if you hate us so much, why would you bother to pretend to look like us? Seems pretty weird. Even on Halloween, I would never think to dress up as a bug, that’s just icky.”
(Privately, I couldn’t believe I had just said “icky” during a life or death struggle with an archangel. I remembered thinking I’d better win this so I could edit that out; I needed to say something more historical-worthy, and after I buried his ass that was exactly what I was going to do. Only it didn’t really happen like that.)
“Oh, wait.” It was like a revelation. (God, a pun now. Fine, it was a dawning.) “You chose to look like us so we would adore you. I’m sure your ugly, one-eyed googly-ass came down to check out people and they just ran to the hills screaming or chucking rocks and rotten fruit at you in the hopes that you’d go back where you came from. But then you have this great idea: We’re going to look like Golden Gods, and the people are going to fall in love with us! Again, another strange thing, because there is no bug I would want to fall in love with me. If I could just get the fuckers to leave me alone, that would be phenomenal.
“So, you know what, Gabriel? You talk a big game but you’re full of shit. You and your brothers are just petulant, petty, spoiled and jealous little bitches. Oh, boo-hoo, Maker has a new toy, let’s break it.” I would have twisted my fists at my eyes for added effect, but Gabriel looked like he was going to bust some blood vessels; retaliation was definitely on its way.
Mostly, the strategy to piss off your opponent is a sound one. Can’t say that was the case this time. He was swinging that sword around with a power I could not match. When his blade struck mine, I thought it had broken my forearm. I had to drop my axe so I could grip the hilt with my left hand as well. I parried with him, stopping the sharp steel high, low, and at a heavy thrust to my middle, but he was relentless. I was tiring and he was looking like Hulk Hogan of old, just getting his wind. I had been bitching about fighting polions; now I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.
“I have never fought a less worthy opponent. Kings have bowed down before me!” The words so forceful I could feel my internal organs shift around. “No humorous quip? Nothing funny to say, puny one?”
I could barely breathe. Saying anything besides “uncle” was a waste. I heard a thunderous charge and a booming “Ahhhhh!” It was Kalandar, charging in. As he struck the angel from the side, their swords, then bodies, collided as they were pushed some twenty feet from me. I would have loved to drop to my knees and collect myself; instead, I went to grab my axe. I shook my right arm, hoping to lose the pins and needles feeling I had. There was no doubt in my mind I had nerve damage. My body would fix it eventually; however, I did not have eventually. Gabriel had already recovered and Kalandar had been cut at least twice. This had to stop. No more beings were going to get injured on my behalf.
Gabriel was not nearly as big as Kalandar, but I looked like the baby brother attempting to play with his teenage brother and friends. Where was my mother, telling me to come home before I got hurt? With Kalandar and I squaring up against Gabriel, we were giving him everything he could handle and a slight hint better. But I was tired before I’d even started fighting him, and I’d not done anything to help that matter since.
Kalandar roared out as he took another slice, this time high up on the angel’s left leg. I don’t know how Gabriel was doing it; he looked indefatigable. Kalandar and I were both flagging–that was obvious. It was a do or die scenario, and even doing didn’t guarantee a victory. I ducked down under a sword swing designed to cut my head neatly off and dove for Gabriel’s feet. If he thought I was going to grovel, he’d miscalculated my humility. The nice thing about open-toed sandals was that when I buried that blade into the top of his foot, I didn’t have to worry about any of the momentum being absorbed by the leather of a boot. His wail could have leveled buildings. I don’t think he’d ever needed a trumpet to make the calls he had in the stories. His foot shot out and kicked me in the face, which I was only able to partially deflect with my hands.
I was sent skidding away. My nose, cheek, and possibly eye-socket were broken and bloody messes. Couldn’t see particularly well, couldn’t breathe right, and the pain was something bordering on crippling, but, like a boxer that had been knocked down, I preserved enough muscle memory for my body to attempt to rise. My brain, from the concussive forces applied to it, was all for taking a nap. My body, however, stumbled its way up. I tottered and swayed as I blinked away the blood. I swung my head enough to see Kalandar off to my side; he was staunching a wound to his mid-section. I turned farther; Azile was still crumpled like some discarded paper doll. The Landians and Talbotons were busily entangled with the polions, and even my addled mind knew that we were on the winning end of that battle, but what would it matter? The angels no longer needed the ploy of the invading demon horde; they’d shown their hand. They would run rough-shod over the land without anyone able to stop them. I took a shaky step; Gabriel’s head swiveled toward me. He gave the grimmest, most hateful grin I have ever seen.
“You don’t look so well, favored son,” he smirked.
“Been better,” I told him as I rested on my sword. Two teeth fell out as I spoke, another I swallowed with a cupful of blood.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked.
I didn’t have a clue. Was he mad that I was actively dying on my own? I was about to ask him that when two strange, yet vaguely familiar beings bracketed me. My vision was so foggy and my brain so fuzzy, I was convinced I was hallucinating.
“You do not look so well,” the guardian on the right said.
“Should we kill him for mercy’s sake?” the one on the left asked.
“Give him the beast, Orderg.”
“Stonemar, I am so hungry, though!”
“There are hundreds of them; you can spare the one.”
“I will not soon forget this,” Orderg said as he dropped a still twitching polion in front of me. Can lead a vampire to a blood bank; doesn’t mean he will make a withdrawal. But that wasn’t the case here. Sucking liquefied spam through a cherry-flavored straw would have held more appeal than the taste of that beast’s vital fluid, but it had enough of what I needed that I could continue the fight.
“Can you go on, Michael?” Stonemar asked.
I guess I looked confused. “We like it here.” The guardian gave something that resembled a smile. “We have chosen to make it our home.”
“I would prefer to eat your buffalos far, far from this place, but that means we must first win this battle; I will do as Stonemar says we must.” I turned to listen to Orderg.
“You do not belong here!” Gabriel shouted. “The gate is your domain!”
“We grew weary of it, angel. We longed for more,” Stonemar replied.
We advanced as one. My head still swam, but I had enough wits about me to fight. Gabriel assumed a ready stance; he looked like Errol Flynn fighting a cast of extras. Swords blurred; ringing steel was all that could be heard for miles. We could n
ot get an edge in, but I still felt as if this was our war to win. I felt that way right up until the most feared warrior of all time joined his brother’s side. Maybe it was just me, but if we were a balloon…we hadn’t been popped yet, but someone had rapidly let the air out of us. Deflated, I suppose would have been an easier explanation. Michael sneered at us, clearly annoyed. He kicked out with his foot and sent Orderg tumbling away while Gabriel brought his hilt down upon Stonemar’s head. The demon’s knees buckled and he fell over. I now found myself squaring off against two archangels.
“Fool,” Michael said. “Look, brother. He is too stupid to fall to his knees and beg for mercy.”
“He is no fool; he realizes that there is no mercy to be found here,” Gabriel answered. “Slowly,” he told Michael as the other raised his sword over his head to strike. “I want this to be excruciating.”
“As you wish.” Michael lashed out so quickly I hadn’t realized I’d been struck until I felt the blood freely flowing from my side, running down my leg.
My axe fell from my hand as Gabriel pierced my left shoulder; I cried out as he removed the blade just as quickly. Michael followed his brother’s lead and did the same to my right. I was still standing, but I had nothing left to defend myself with.
“No life left to live…and no afterlife. Why do you not beg?” Michael looked truly curious. “They always beg; perhaps it is mute?”
Gabriel slashed his sword across my chest. My skin flayed open like baked mud on a dried lake bed.
“No, no, no!” I cried when I looked down. It wasn’t the wound; it was Linnick. She had been struck. “Please, no,” I said, doing my best to grasp her small body.
“He begs now. That is better,” Michael said.
“You didn’t deserve to go like this,” I whispered to my pocket companion.
She grabbed my finger weakly with her hand. “You are the best friend anyone could come to know, Tallboat.” Her tiny head fell against my palm. “Oh, Linnick,” I sobbed. I hardly felt Gabriel’s sword as it plunged deep into my midsection. I doubled over and fell to my knees when he removed it, though.
“Do you wish his head?” Michael asked as he tightly gripped my hair and wrenched my skull up with his hand.
“You will not!” Stonemar had recovered and was fast approaching. Honestly, I didn’t give a fuck how it ended at this point; with my head, without, I was done. Orderg was coming in from the other side. My head sagged as Michael let go.
“It matters not. You are too late,” he said.
“ENOUGH!” Maker boomed; the sky ripped open.
Stonemar and Orderg immediately went to a knee. Michael and Gabriel were scared, though they defiantly stood.
“This world is ours!” Michael shouted.
“Yes…it was, for a time,” Maker said. “But you cared naught for it. The earth was never good enough for you, Michael, this you know. I made another who might appreciate it; only then was your interest piqued. I should have long ago seen the jealousy you all harbored. I was blinded by my love for you, for all of you. I let you meddle in their affairs for ages; I mistakenly thought you had their best interests at heart. But no, your own hearts no longer beat with worship and tenderness. There was no empathy within any of you, only apathy. You found ways to keep my creation constantly at their brothers’ own throats, hoping that they would eventually kill each other so you could regain a treasure you never wanted to begin with.”
“Whether we wanted it or not, Maker, it was not within your right to take it from us to do as you chose!” Gabriel shouted.
“Not my right? I handed you a jewel–a jewel that I crafted with my two hands, a wonder that took me time immeasurable to forge, and left you to steward it. And how did you repay me? You helped create misshapen, lumpen things to plague the world, to infuse it with a sickness that could not be eradicated: demons, creatures born with the express purpose to kill and to lead humanity down a treacherous path! Yet even they have turned against you. What does that say to you?”
“You have broken the covenant, Maker. Even you are not above paying for that transgression!” Michael shouted.
“You’re right.” Maker sounded heartbroken. “And pay I will. I will mourn the loss for all time. Jinn!” he called out.
“I cannot remember the last time I have seen the light of day,” Jinn said. “Are you sure, Maker?”
“I am,” he replied.
Jinn strode over to me. “Pity.” He was looking down at me. “I do believe you would have made an amazing addition to my world. You are always welcome to visit. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday; come. We have much time to make up for.”
Gabriel and Michael’s heads both turned to Maker. “You cannot!” they screamed in unison before their bodies began to dissolve into a black nothingness.
Jinn nodded to Maker before leaving in similar style. Maker had five tears rolling down his face; he collected each one and placed them in his pocket before he, too, vanished.
Chapter 31
Mike Journal Entry 13
Maybe it was Azile, or Benjamin; could have even been the gate guardians. I knew it wasn’t Kalandar, but that was all I knew, as someone moved me. Day was rapidly turning to night; this was a death vigil. People came in to visit, to pay respects, some to pray.
I was done. The two archangels had beaten me down; just thinking of living seemed beyond my capabilities. Win, lose, live, die; they were just randomly scattered words in a book full of them. I was not too blind to see that the story of my life was coming to a close, and it was not going to be me who decided whether it had a significant conclusion or not. You know, I say all of that now, and some may be for dramatic effect, but at the time, that’s what it felt like. I did not think I had the capacity for any greater feelings; again, I was wrong. I lay face up. The waning sun shone through a window and upon my closed eyelids, my breathing was shallow, and there was a certain serenity to knowing this was it. Yes, I was scared, when I thought on it at all, but when you’ve done all you can do, what’s left to fear? When the faint light that bled through darkened, I figured I was on my way–and then she spoke.
“I have waited a long time for this, Victor.” A wolf had somehow been allowed in.
Maybe I said: “Eliza;” more likely, I didn’t. I couldn’t register a shit to give, right up until she shoved that knife into my chest, hilt-deep. I heard cries of alarm and surprise all around me. I sat up from the force of the strike, my eyes wide open, staring into the twin black pools of evil with which she stared back at me. Her lips were upturned at the corners, her mouth slightly open; her elongated canines sought purchase. She made sure we were locked onto each other securely as she twisted the blade. I cried out in pain–there was sweet relief for a moment as she pulled it free, only to plunge it into me again and again and again. Fifty, sixty, maybe a hundred times she struck. I was dead after the fifth. I watched passively from above as she savagely ripped into my corpse. Azile was struggling to get to me. The strange demon, Stonemar, swatted Eliza away. She rolled to a stop some twenty feet from us, got to her feet, and hissed. She wanted to feed, but Stonemar and Orderg stayed over my body and others ran to my aid. Eliza knew this wasn’t a battle she could win. She took one last long, satisfying look at my unmoving body and left, a satisfied laugh coming from her as she did so.
Azile came to a staggering halt by my head. “No, no, no,” she repeated over and over as she placed my head on her lap and wiped the hair from my face. Wasn’t a surgeon or a witch in the world that could repair all that was wrong with that broken and bloody vessel. I was going to miss them all, well, maybe not Tim because he was psychotic and scary, but yeah, the rest of them for sure. As I ascended, I slowly turned so I was once again facing the light. Instead of the darkened tunnel pierced by a faraway glow that I had experienced once upon a time at the beginning of my story, this time the light just got brighter and brighter. I figured I would simply dissolve within the supernova that was forming. I was at peace.
&
nbsp; “The train station again?” I stood from an all-white bench. I had on a toga, of all things. I pulled the fabric back enough to see my feet. “Sandals? Maker, there’s no way I’d wear sandals!”
“You did good, Michael.” He appeared in his familiar “old man” countenance, but today he looked a lot older, though possibly less wise, if that makes sense.
“Is it over?” I asked, turning to face him.
“Except for the crying, just about.”
“What now?” I went over to sit next to him.
“I shall bring you to my house. There are many there who would like to see you. Your loved ones have missed you.”
“I’ve got a question.”
“I think I know what you’re going to ask. Do not think of your existence up here as a single, continuous thread, but rather a thick, richly interwoven tapestry.”
“Like two thousand-count fine Egyptian cotton sheets?” I asked.
“If that somehow helps you comprehend your existence, then yes; that will work. Your many ‘selves’ can continue among any of these lines or offshoots, taking lefts, rights–even going backward. The other important people in your life, Tracy, your children, your friends, it will be the same for them. Wherever their tapestries intersect with yours is where you exist together.”