by J F Cain
The Archivist looked astonished by the question.
“It was the One that gave us these qualities, because It wished us to be free and to act of our own accord,” he reminded him.
“Be that as it may, right now both are being taken away, given that I cannot act based on my own judgment,” the Archangel said without revealing his displeasure.
“You have been following Its commandments all this time. Why is it bothering you now?” the Archivist asked, a sliver of challenge threading through his voice.
Gabriel looked straight into the eyes of the Source’s representative.
“Because I do not agree,” he answered honestly.
“Questioning is the beginning of growth, but it must be within measure, or else it ends up being arrogance,” the Mentor pointed out in a neutral voice.
A shadow of anxiety flitted through the Archangel’s eyes, but he didn’t allow the emotion to consume him.
“I do not consider myself superior to my Creator. But whatever thought I have is Its own, since I am part of It. I partake of Its essence and knowledge.”
The celestial general’s fleeting turmoil didn’t escape the Archivist.
“With this reasoning, are you perhaps shifting the blame to It?” he asked, purposely fanning his fear.
“No, but even if I am doing it unconsciously, then I accept the responsibility,” Gabriel replied courageously.
The representative’s intense gaze remained fixed on him for a long moment as he considered how he should answer.
“You are free to act as you deem fit. The Source expresses Its will, but It does not force anyone to follow it,” he replied blankly.
The Archangel regarded him silently, trying to discern what exactly lay behind his words.
Was this what It had commanded Its representative? To sow doubt in the minds of the high-ranking Celestials? “I would like to speak to It,” he said, thinking that he had to clarify Its intentions.
The Archivist unlaced his fingers and leaned back against the armchair’s backrest.
“I am sorry, but that is not possible.”
The celestial general wasn’t discouraged by the initial refusal.
“Sir, I definitely have to speak with It,” he pressed.
“Personal responsibility is the price you pay for the freedom you want, Gabriel. And, as you claimed just a moment ago, you are willing to accept it,” he replied, his voice tinged with sternness.
The Archangel lifted his gaze to the golden gateway at the back of the hall. Evidently, It did not want to talk to him, or to any other Celestial. It was keeping Its will hidden.
“Very well,” he said, his tone betraying his disappointment. He bowed, turned on his heel and headed toward the Archives exit.
Experiencing personal death has changed him; it has made him bolder, the Mentor noted as he watched the great celestial general depart.
In Elether, creative questioning was encouraged since it served to foster growth and led to the acquisition of Knowledge and the perfection of souls. Control of behavior through fear, which prevented spiritual advancement and required unquestioning acceptance and submission to enforced established orders, beliefs or ideas, was how Lucifer and humans worked. It didn’t belong in the celestial realm, which was governed by the principles of freedom, justice, and equality. Critical thinking was considered a virtue, and blind obedience was not justified as being prudent.
Yet, despite all the freedom of thought and expression, very few had dared to question the Source Itself, which tested the high Celestials from time to time. Aranes was one who had questioned It. Her intention to grasp the essence of the Timeless Being had set her on a course of assessing and examining everything concerning It. Believing free thought to be a basic condition of wisdom, she had overcome the fear and blind respect the other Angels felt toward It and had succeeded in gaining Its Knowledge. It was this great achievement that had earned her the position of Superior.
Now Gabriel was daring to take that step. The Source had foreseen that It would be questioned, and with Its stance It sought it. The Celestials had to evolve. That was Its will. Who will pass the test and not end up in Eregkal? The Archivist wondered, worried about Elether’s future.
In a remote part of Eregkal, inside a dark portico, four higher-ranking entities of the infernal realm had gathered to discuss a serious matter.
Demons could communicate mind to mind, but because they were worried that the Lord of the dimension might be able to hear their communications, the alliance’s Archdemons had decided to meet face to face when it was important. Even so, during these meetings they spoke enigmatically and made sure to monitor those entities that were likely to listen in. So if some invisible spy heard the discussion, he wouldn’t be able to tell what they meant exactly or to whom they were referring, since their words could be interpreted in many different ways.
But because no one could ever be sure that someone who seemed otherwise occupied with something important wouldn’t turn their attention elsewhere the very next moment, they not only spoke in code, they also all made alternate plans in case the first were exposed. In fact, they usually feigned interest in goals other than their own to mislead the spies. And the meetings the conspirators held as a diversionary tactic only increased the confusion. So the biggest problem among enemies or frenemies was, as in every war, to figure out their rivals’ movements.
Should the conspirators be summoned to report to the Dark Lord, they were prepared to give misleading interpretations. They knew that it was rather unlikely they would convince their intelligent master. But doubt, as well as other necessities that Lucifer was forced to keep in mind, would save them from annihilation.
The Archdemon Paymon’s second-in-command, the pitch-dark-skinned and fleshy-lipped Marchosias, crossed his arms—bare save for the bronze guards around his upper arms—over his black leather vest. His green irisless eyes regarded the two Archdemons across from him pensively. The former member of the order of the Dominions was intrigued by what the high-ranking entities has just proposed. If he accepted, he would have the chance to satisfy a major desire: to take his commander’s place. But the difficulty and danger the undertaking presented made him hesitate.
“I don’t think everyone will follow me. Many of them fear him,” he said, indirectly probing to see what the conditions of the agreement were, and to see how much the schemers were willing to help him.
The Archdemon Purson waved his hand in a gesture that downplayed the importance of the matter.
“That’s not a problem. When the time is right, you’ll be given the forces you need to subdue them and the one they fear. After that, they’ll defer to you.” The expression on his bestial face with its snake-like eyes, hairy cheeks, and big lipless mouth invited Marchosias to imagine the pleasant prospect of himself as the master, served by thousands of subjects.
The third entity taking part in the discussion, the stocky Sonnelion, had the bearing and aura of a warrior, clad as she was in a solid cuirass and stiff pauldrons. The former member of the order of the Virtues, now Adras’s deputy, had pinned her slit pitch-black eyes on the two Archdemons. Her face, like a cracked marble mask that distorted her former angelic form, was wary.
“It’s a big risk. What happens if they find out something before the operation?” she asked, her coarse voice a sign of an equally coarse nature.
“Our forces will be on stand-by. One word from you, and they’ll be at your side,” the Archdemon Gaap reassured her. The short gray hair and calm human-like demeanor of the former Dominion member inspired trust and made some forget that they were dealing with one of Eregkal’s highest entities.
“We’ll attack on all fronts at once and we’ll have surprise on our side,” said Purson.
“What if something goes wrong?” Marchosias rephrased Sonnelion’s question, wanting to make sure the ones who had thought up the scheme had eliminated all chances of failure.
“We’re prepared for all possible reaction
s. No matter what happens, we can deal with it,” Purson assured him with total confidence.
Disbelief was etched on Marchosias’ face.
“Are you sure? How are we going to deal with him?”
At the thought of Lucifer, a savage vengeful light gleamed in Purson’s eyes.
“He won’t be able to do much since he’ll be outnumbered in forces,” he answered viciously.
Sonnelion glanced suspiciously at Gaap, who was following the exchange silently, and then turned to look at Purson again.
“And if he finds power from somewhere else?” Her expression told them she was referring to Lucifer’s dynamic reappearance following the Celestials’ invasion.
Purson made sure that certain entities weren’t listening in on their discussion and then spoke openly so that he could convince the seconds-in-command to join the alliance.
“Where do you think he drew the power from? From the field we are maintaining while he’s busy chasing after her!” he replied, his deep voice full of enmity. “Are you willing to pay for his nonsense? How many times have you done it?” he asked and went on without waiting for an answer: “We’ve all paid dearly for his choices. Enough is enough!” he concluded, filled with ire.
Seeing the hesitation in the two deputies’ faces, Gaap waded in to help wear them down.
“His sick obsession with her is going to destroy us all,” he said in a calm, amenable voice. “The things he is doing and his lack of action make no sense. He’s going to destroy us all, yet again,” he repeated the threat to heighten the sense of danger.
Marchosias and Sonnelion seemed seriously troubled. The temptation to satisfy their aspirations was great. However, just as great was the fear of their cruel masters and Lucifer, who, if the operation failed, would make an example of them and annihilate them.
“I’ll think about it and let you know,” Sonnelion said.
The Archdemons turned their gazes on Marchosias.
“Same here,” he answered their wordless question.
Gaap’s gaunt face held an understanding expression.
“Alright, let us know what you decide,” he said calmly, but his fierce gaze warned of the consequences if news of the conspiracy leaked out.
The two deputies nodded and disappeared.
“What do you think?” Purson asked once he and Gaap were alone.
Gaap made sure the two seconds-in-command weren’t listening in and nodded emphatically.
“They’ll do it.”
“I think so too. But if someone has the guts to do something like that, he can definitely do it to anyone,” Purson said, his tone suggesting he would never turn against his allies. “You know, I’m also worried about that with the other two. I think they have the same intentions. We should be on our guard.” In fact, he was sure Beleth and Zagan would turn against them. Abriel he didn’t take into account, since he didn’t have a big enough army to fight the Archdemons’ coalition.
“I don’t doubt it,” Gaap agreed. “Nevertheless, we need them.”
“Yes … of course,” Purson replied, but his tone betrayed doubt.
His insinuation was clear to Gaap.
If he could have spoken freely, he would have really liked to ask his clever ally how, if things didn’t go as planned, he intended to fight the Archdemons Paymon, Asmodeus, and Adras, who were faithful to Lucifer and had over two hundred legions at their command.
“It will happen, if and when needed,” he said, leaving open the possibility of acting against their allies. But for now, he would do what was necessary to keep them united. He was the one who had set the plan in motion and he’d chosen his associates carefully, each one for specific reasons. He needed them all and didn’t want any rivalry between them.
Purson didn’t like his answer, but he didn’t insist. He changed the subject to find out something else that interested him.
“Why didn’t the other one come?”
Gaap understood he was referring to Estaria.
“She claimed she had an important job to do.”
“What job? The one she usually does with her master?” Purson asked, his innuendo tinged with a jealousy he tried unsuccessfully to hide behind his scornful tone.
“No. From what I understand, he’s up to something,” Gaap replied, choking back his frustration at his ally’s immature behavior.
“She was more difficult from the start. She’s really getting on my nerves with all her delays,” said Purson with annoyance.
“Don’t worry, the Sorcerer will convince her.”
Purson’s face contorted in a mocking grimace.
“I’m impressed! And who convinced him?”
“He suggested it himself,” Gaap answered.
Purson’s lipless mouth formed a sardonic smile.
“Rather daring. If the other one gets wind of it, he won’t know where to hide.”
Gaap shrugged indifferently, not commenting.
“Anyway! They can sign their own death warrant however they like,” Purson went on, feeling irritated. Let the job get done, and then we’ll see who gets to be Estaria’s master.
“Of course,” Gaap agreed. “So, we’ll talk again when there’s news.”
“Alright.” Purson gave him a curt nod in farewell and left their secret meeting place.
Left alone in the dark portico, Gaap’s thoughts turned to the Demons’ obsession with sex, which risked blowing their plan to pieces. Despite his phlegmatic temperament, this really irritated him because he often had to deal with the rivalries between his allies.
Purson wanted Asmodeus’s bitch, she wanted Abriel, and Abriel wanted Lyla, who Zagan had a thing for. Enter the cocktease Beleth into the mix, who also wanted the Sorcerer, and, if she ever found out the methods he used to get his job done, things could get dicey. And since Eregkal’s virgin princess had the most legions of everyone in the alliance, Gaap didn’t want to consider that eventuality. On the other hand, Abriel’s decision to convince Asmodeus’s second-in-command had unclear motives. But he couldn’t have refused his offer. He definitely had to ensure Estaria’s participation or her silence toward her master, whom she feared—and no one could blame her for that.
Whatever happened, Gaap planned to get her back. Not because he was in love with her, but for her unquestionable powers. Estaria had been his second-in-command for thousands of years after the Fall, until the negative energy of human evil and malice created the cold-hearted entity that assumed the name Asmodeus. The usurper had risen rapidly through the ranks and, after taking over from his predecessor, he had also schemed and taken Eregkal’s most able deputy from him. When Gaap had protested about the grasping vulture’s behavior to Lucifer, the Dark Lord had indirectly but clearly supported Asmodeus. The new Archdemon had been giving him more power than the rest and he hadn’t wanted to aggrieve him. However, he had been forced to when he was faced with all the higher entities’ displeasure and realized that his protégé had become a danger to him too.
Gaap had never forgotten the Dark Lord’s actions. And that wasn’t the only thing he held against him.
CHAPTER 8
Night had shed its darkness on the mountain range. Under the clear starry sky, a sparse mist spread its veils among the naked trees in the forest, and the frigid cold had formed a fine coat of ice on the yellowed leaves moldering on the ground.
Estaria stood with Asmodeus near a set of railroad tracks bisecting the forest.
Behind them, a hundred armored Demons and Fiends were deployed among the trees. A deep silence had stolen over the forest. The dark Ethereals’ presence had spread a subtle terror and the few creatures of the animal kingdom not hibernating had fled in fear. The only sound was the wheezing of the old train as it approached.
Asmodeus slanted his eyes toward his deputy. The dark energy of her symbiotic armor stirred agitatedly.
“I see you’re a little stressed,” he taunted.
Estaria avoided his gaze. She didn’t agree with her master’s decisio
n, but she was forced to obey.
“I want to be prepared,” she said with a scowl.
Asmodeus knew why she was worried, but he didn’t care.
“As you wish,” he said, his smile dripping with mockery.
He watched emotionlessly as the train approached a bend and then focused his gaze on the track in front of him. Obeying the will of the powerful Archdemon, the bolts that kept the iron rails in place began to rattle in their holes. Slowly but surely they began rise up, until they shot up and out. As if a powerful invisible hand was pushing them, four sections along the one rail shifted from their position and slid onto the sloping shoulder on the side of the track.
When the train came out of the bend, the shocked driver saw disaster approach. He pulled the break lever at once but couldn’t stop the train in time. The engine fell into the gap, briefly dragged along on the one rail and was derailed, pulling five of the seven coaches onto the shoulder. In a pandemonium of noise, the coaches collided and dragged over the gravel on the shoulder, raising a cloud of dust. Under the impact, metal crumpled, glass shattered and fragments were hurled everywhere. The passengers were flung out of their seats, and some even catapulted through the windows.
Not a moment later, in all the chaos, the glow of Celestials appeared across from the deployed Demons. In the front stood the Archangel Anael, beside her Hope, and behind them one hundred white-clad Angels in their dazzling armor.
As if in wingless flight, Asmodeus floated to the top of one of the derailed coaches.
“Welcome, Anael, to the start of a new era!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide.
The Archangel’s eyes flashed with tension. She knew that this would be a difficult fight.
“Back off, Asmodeus. You’ve caused enough trouble already,” she retorted.
“Make me,” the Archdemon taunted her. He felt so confident about his power that he wasn’t even wearing his symbiotic armor. His black leather trench coat flapped around him, making him look bigger than he was.
Estaria and a team of ten Demons appeared next to their leader, with dark energy flowing from the swords in their hands. The Angels conjured their bright swords and leaped onto the coach. The battle of the transcendental forces began with the dark entities’ battle cries and the unearthly sound of ethereal blades clashing.