The Wrath of Angels (Eternal Warriors Book 3)

by Vox Day

  “Go, now!” Holli shoved Derek forward, and the tall boy ran forward. Holli ran beside him, ready to try and redirect an errant back-swing or an ill-timed retreat. But Khasar allowed the white knight to force him up against the wall, parrying each powerful blow only at the last possible second.

  And then the legendary sword was before them. Excalibur, which King Arthur himself had borne to glory and fame everlasting. Holli wasn’t much of a reader, but even she knew the stories, and she felt a little strange to be so close to something that she’d always assumed was imaginary.

  “It’s beautiful,” Derek whispered reverentially. And it was. The sword was simple, its stained blade was pitted and scarred, but it was beautiful too. The hilt was wrapped in gold, ending in two lions-heads baring their teeth under glaring ruby eyes. Several more jewels decorated the crosspiece and another, larger ruby was set in the pommel, but it was damaged somewhat, with several cracked facets. Derek stood before it reverentially, and his face was full of awe as he glanced at her and shook his head.

  “What do I do?”

  “Just grab it!” she urged him, watching warily as the two giant figures, shining gold and alabaster white, smote each other with abandon, their blows ringing through the chamber like thunder.

  Derek cautiously moved his right hand forward into the mystic glowing field, and touched the hilt with one finger, as if it might electrocute him. When nothing happened, he breathed a sigh of relief and closed his hand around the hilt. Without warning, the blade’s silver glow suddenly brightened into a golden sunburst, so bright that Derek had to shield his eyes with his free hand. From behind Holli, she heard the Keeper cry out with rage.

  “Defiler! Unhand me, thrice-cursed thief!” Empowered by his fury, the giant smashed a two-fisted blow that caught Khasar off-guard and sent him sprawling, then rushed towards Derek and Holli, his massive sword raised high above his head.

  “Khasar!” Holli screamed as the giant bore down on her, but she retained enough presence of mind to slip into quintus before she was cut in two. Thrown off by her disappearance, the knight stumbled and lost his footing as his blade met no resistance and smashed into the floor with a resounding clang. Confused and off-balance, the Keeper was momentarily defenseless and Derek seized his opportunity. With a great shout, he leaped forward and swung shining Excalibur as if he was an avenging, if half-naked, angel of destruction.

  There was an unearthly shriek when the blade burned through the embossed breastplate as if it was not armor but molten butter. Derek’s shout of triumph died in his throat, though, when the sun-bright glow abruptly dimmed, sending the room into darkness. A moment later, there was a loud crack and the ancient blade unexpectedly shattered into pieces. One shard flew backward into Derek’s unprotected shoulder; his cry of pain was drowned out by the agonized howl of the Keeper. The white-armored giant had fallen to his knees and a dark purple smoke was rushing from the ruptured breastplate, hissing like a steam from a teapot.

  What was going on? Holli wasn’t sure what was happening to the Keeper, but at least he wasn’t trying to hit her with that huge sword again. Then, as she looked at the jagged stump of the sword in Derek’s hand, another thought struck her. How were they going to kill the Mad One with a broken blade?

  Derek was clutching at his bleeding shoulder with the metal shard protruding from between his fingers. He, too, was staring at Excalibur in disbelief. Holli drew her own sword, it came crackling to life and its flames gave them enough light with which to see. Bright red-gold glitters marked the places where the other pieces of Excalibur had fallen.

  “What did you do?” Khasar roared at Derek.

  “How should I know? I thought this thing was supposed to be some kind of magic super sword, right? I have no clue what happened. One minute, it was slicing right through that guy’s armor, and then it just broke apart.”

  Khasar looked at what was now nothing but an empty suit of armor, but the armor was already cracking and pieces were crumbling and starting to fall off. The three of them were silent for a moment, watching as the armor disintegrated into a fine white powder before disappearing entirely. Then Khasar slapped his forehead. “No! That was no keeper, that was the spirit of the sword!”

  “What?” Derek and Holli looked at each other.

  Khasar groaned. “When an item has been endowed with great power, it is possible for it to take on a sort of life of its own. Unless an object is of Divine origin, in which case the power is drawn from the Almighty, it necessarily derives its power from a spirit bound to the object. Given enough time, the spirit can escape that to which it has been bound. In this case, it would seem that a partial binding still remained.”

  “That means so nothing to me,” Derek answered irritably and Holli had to agree with him. “Khasar, what are you talking about?”

  “I mean that a house divided against itself cannot stand. The spirit was the sword! Well, the magic of the sword, anyhow. And to use Excalibur against its own magic, well, you saw what happened.”

  “I haven’t exactly used a lot of supernatural swords before. Didn’t you ever bother to think about this before? I mean, didn’t it even cross your mind when you saw the dude standing there?”

  Holli prodded the little pile of dust with her foot. She almost felt bad for the poor guy, or spirit, whatever he was. Or perhaps she would have if he hadn’t tried to chop her in two.

  Khasar threw up his hands. “I don’t know, I thought he was just your normal, everyday guardian! You have to understand, I’ve never seen anything like this before, I’d only heard a few tales here and there.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  The archon bent over and picked up one of the blackened pieces of the sword. “Obviously we’re going to have to fix it before we can use it to confront the Mad One. If it can be fixed.”

  What were the chances of that? Holli grimaced. You couldn’t exactly look in the Yellow Pages for a magical sword maker.

  Derek looked thoughtful. “Hey, how about this? Maybe we can look up that Wayland guy. He’s a swordsmith, right! If he can make a magical sword, then he should be able to fix one, right?”

  “Wayland. That’s the smith you mentioned earlier, the one who made some of the other swords you were considering as possibilities?”

  “Yeah, he made at least three of them. Siegfried’s, you know, the star of that Wagner ring thing, and for two other guys I can’t remember. One of them was the King of England, I think. I bet if anyone can fix it, he can. And he can’t be all that hard to find, I mean, what with your connections and all.”

  “If he is willing,” Khasar pointed out. “If he is still here on this isle, we will find him, although considering he’s almost surely Fallen, there’s no telling whose side he’s on. But it’s worth a shot. As it stands, I don’t think we’re going to accomplish much by throwing these at the Mad One.”

  Holli had picked up two of the shards and was fitting them together. It was hard for her to see what was so special about Excalibur. Even to her angelic eyes, there was nothing to indicate any supernatural power, what she held in her hands seemed to be just two jagged pieces of charred metal. She eyed them dubiously. Was the magic gone because the sword was broken, or had it broken because it never had any to begin with? “Do we have all the pieces?”

  “Better fit them together to be sure, then slip them in here,” Khasar said, bending over the Keeper and sliding the empty scabbard off his belt. “I’d just as soon not let the Lady of the Lake know what happened to her precious sword. We’ll just tell her we have what we came for and hope that she doesn’t ask too many questions.

  Chapter 30

  Searching for Mr. Smith

  Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened

  —Matthew 7:7-8

  “Do you think it’s a bad omen, that the sword broke?” Derek asked, co
mpletely out of the blue.

  They were sitting on a hilltop, leaning comfortably back against two thick-trunked birch trees while Khasar asked questions of the pretty, dark-haired naiad of a bubbling little brook that ran past an abandoned old smithy. This was their third lead on John Wayland Smith in three days; as it turned out, there were an awful lot of John Smiths in England and not even the angels they’d previously quizzed had much idea which one might be the semi-mythical smith, who apparently wasn’t advertising for business these days. Derek, however, was still obsessing about the sword. By this point, Holli was starting to wish he’d go back to talking about the crazy murderer two cells down or deliver another monologue about the evils of institutional food.

  “I mean, that just doesn’t happen. Ever. I’ve read a million books about a hero finding a sword, and I’ve never read one where he just accidentally breaks it. Sure, maybe the bad guy takes it away, or maybe only the one true heir of Isildur can wield it or whatever. But how can you break freaking Excalibur? It’s ridiculous. It’s just not possible.”

  “Would you shut up about that already? Anyhow, it would take a lot more than a sword to make you a hero. You’re a criminal, remember?”

  Derek scowled at her. “If I ever forget, I’m sure you’ll be happy to remind me.”

  “Whatever. Look, I’ll settle for a happy ending where we don’t all end up dead.”

  “Along with half of Europe. Again. What is with these Fallen idiots? It’s like all they want to do is kill people.”

  Holli bit her tongue and looked away. It was hard not to come back with the obvious retort. If anyone would understand, you’d think it would be him. But he was thankfully oblivious to her sudden silence.

  “Anyhow, this whole thing isn’t so bad for you, ‘cause at least you can see what’s going on. If it wasn’t for that thing under the lake, I could almost swear you’re just pulling my leg about all this.”

  “You could see the werewolves just fine.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He looked around the hillside and rubbed at his chest. “That was a lot of fun too. Thanks for reminding me. And then, I suppose there was the whole thing with the demons and those monster wolf things they were riding. You know, this world is a much, much weirder place than I’d ever imagined. No one would ever believe us, assuming we survive long enough to tell anyone.”

  “My brother would. So’d Jami.”

  “You’re probably right.” He picked up a piece of grass and bit off the white part on the bottom. “Hey, how did your Dad’s chemo go?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t called them yet. I used up my calling card last time.”

  Derek frowned, then reached into his pocket and withdrew a new card, still in the cellophane. “The phone’s in my backpack over there. Someone should be up by now, it’s eight-thirty their time.”

  Holli wordlessly took the card. She didn’t want to call her sister, it was so much easier to not think about what was happening on the other side of the Atlantic, but she knew she should. She found the pre-paid Motorola Derek had bought in London and thumbed the power button. There was plenty of charge, so she sighed and tore open the calling card, scratching off the silver material that obscured the numeric code.

  Jami answered on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Anybody miss me yet?”

  “Holli!” Jami sounded delighted despite the morning frog in her throat. “No, Paulus and Aliel are still messing with everybody’s heads. Sometimes they have me pretend to take a nap and then walk around in your clothes, I guess that makes it easier for them. I think Christopher is a little suspicious sometimes, but he’s too busy with Rachel to stop and think about it. “

  “Kinda handy being twins, huh?”

  “Yeah, totally. What’s going on over there? Is it still as crazy as you were saying?”

  “Crazier. I probably shouldn’t say too much, but there’s a lot more going on than I’d ever imagined. Christopher would be having a ball with all this stuff.”

  “Oh, that’s bad! I’m just glad you’ve got Khasar with you. Scratch behind his ears for me.”

  “When he’s a lion or when he’s not?”

  “Ha ha.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad he’s here. I just wish Aliel was too.”

  “Hey, I have to tell you something. I broke up with Jason!”

  “No! Are you okay? What happened? Did he cheat on you?”

  “No, it was nothing, really. I’m fine. It’s just, the whole thing, it didn’t seem very important right now.” There was a moment’s silence that was perfectly understood on both ends of the line.

  “Daddy’s not doing so well,” Jami finally broke the ice. “His hair isn’t falling out, so he’s happy about that, but he’s throwing up a lot and he’s losing weight because he can’t keep anything down. Mom’s trying to be brave and hold it together for our sake, but she cries whenever she’s alone.”

  “Oh, Jami.”

  “I know you wish you were here, but honestly, I’m glad you’re not. It’s… it’s just not good. There’s nothing good about it.”

  Holli nodded. She could feel tears filling her eyes but she didn’t know what to say.

  “Tell Daddy I love him,” she whispered. “As me.”

  “Yeah, well…” Jami’s voice cracked, then she cleared her throat and tried again in a firmer tone of voice. “I did. He thought I was you. He told me that you’re his favorite, Beautiful. Of course, he says that to all the girls.”

  “Shut up, James!” Holli was crying now, but silently.

  “He’s fighting as hard as he can, Holli. I don’t know if he can beat it, the doctors won’t say, but I think he’ll make it at least another month or two. Do you know when you can come back?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now.”

  “Yeah, well, I love you.”

  Holli sniffed. “I know… I love you too.”

  “Anyhow… someone’s coming! Gotta go, bye!”

  Holli heard the sound of a door starting to open, then there was a click and the line went dead. She stared at the phone for a long moment, then wiped her eyes with her fingers and returned the phone to the backpack. When she tried to return the calling card to Derek, though, he refused to take it.

  “Keep it, I bought it for you.”

  “You did?”

  “Who do I have to call, the warden? I don’t think so.”

  “Oh.” Holli stared at him a moment, taken off guard. “Um, thanks. Thanks a lot.”

  “No problem. Hey, I was wondering… I mean, I couldn’t help but notice… I mean, it sounded like your dad isn’t doing so good. I thought maybe you’d want to pray for him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to pray for your dad to be healed, to be saved. We can do it together, you and me. Right now. Two or more and all that, right?”

  Holli forced herself to look at the boy—at the man—who’d murdered her boyfriend, her schoolmates and his own best friend. He was a confessed killer, and he was holding out his hand to her. His face wore the same arrogant, superior expression that it always did, but she could see uncharacteristic sympathy lurking behind the cold blue eyes. Hatred for him and love for another fought a brief, but vicious battle inside her breast; in the end it was love that won the day. Holding on to her hate simply wasn’t worth the price of Daddy’s life.

  “Yeah, that’d be okay,” she said quietly, taking his hand.

  She didn’t know how long Khasar had been standing behind them, keeping a respectful silence, but when Holli lifted her tear-stained face after the last amen, he cleared his throat to draw their attention.

  “Wayland was here, as recently as twenty years ago. The angel of the brook said that he left for the city then, and she gave me an address in Nottingham, of all places.”

  “Like, the sheriff?”

  “Yes.” Khasar shrugged. “It’s not far from here, perhaps an hour or so by car, but only fifteen minutes if we fly. Derek,
I suggest you stay here in this pleasant little place while we check it out. You’ve got the cell phone, so if it turns out to be anything significant, I’ll call you and you can bring the car down.”

  Derek placed his hand behind his head and leaned back against a good-sized birch tree. “That sounds like a good deal to me. I don’t see what this Smith guy would be doing in the city anyhow.” Holli met his eyes, and although she didn’t say anything, a momentary smile pulled at the side of his mouth and he nodded. “No problem, blondie.”

  Nottingham wasn’t at all what Holli was expecting. There was no great forest in which you’d expect Robin Hood to be hiding, although the castle was impressive and made for an interesting sight as they flew up from the south. It certainly didn’t look like the sort of place you’d break in easily, especially not with the two giant demons in dragon form who patrolled the skies above it.

  “What’s going on inside there?” she asked Khasar.

  “Who knows. It’s just another Fallen stronghold, probably has been for centuries. Now, let me see if I can get my bearings. She said that Saint Mary’s was off directly to the east of the Castle, then we need to go a block or two south to the canal, which has got to be right there.”

  Khasar laughed at the surprised look on Holli’s face. “There’s no spirits who gossip so much as water spirits, Holli. They all roam about, and they’re much more inquisitive than dryads or the spirits of the mountains and meadows, who tend to be a little more self-centered. If you need to find out something, always start with the naiads.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They landed without attracting too much attention, and began to walk along Nottingham’s attractive waterfront. They passed a few stores and tourist traps, a doubtful-looking Chinese restaurant and a large newspaper building as Khasar peered at the street numbers, not all of which were marked in obvious places. Finally, he stopped in front of a large two-story building, with a tasteful green exterior. Underneath the street address, gold letters spelled out THE SMITHY. “I think this may be it,” Khasar declared.