To Reign In Hell

by Steven Brust

  Abdiel screamed again as Satan's hand found his throat. There was a flash of movement from Raphael's arm, and Satan dropped without a sound. Raphael stood breathless, tears at the corners of her eyes, holding the chain which held the star.

  "I had to," she said. "He would have—"

  "It's all right," announced Michael. "Help Abdiel return to the Palace. I'll take this one with me." He indicated Satan on the ground before him.

  In an instant, Beelzebub was past him, standing over Satan's body.

  "Thou shall not," he said.

  Michael flung his cloak back. "Can you stop a Firstborn, small one?"

  "Art thou faster than my teeth, Firstborn?" They considered each other for a moment. "I guess we'll find out," said Michael softly.

  Harut, from leagues away, felt it.

  He stopped and wondered at the sudden tears that came to his eyes. He concentrated for a moment and felt where it had come from. He changed direction accordingly and started walking again. The stick he used to guide himself made little sound against the soft dirt. His feet made less.

  He wondered why he suddenly felt that some of the freshness had gone out of the air.

  He made himself walk a little faster.

  "Hold, Michael!"

  Without taking his eyes from Beelzebub, he said, "What is it, Raphael?"

  "Can he best you?"

  Michael chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "It's possible," he said.

  "Then what? What about Abdiel?"

  "Then it's up to you."

  "And if I fail? We must protect him, Michael."

  "What about you? Help me now with this one."

  "I... can't, Michael. I can't hurt someone like that."

  "Hmmph. You did well enough with Satan."

  "That just happened. It was different."

  "You mean we should leave these two here?"

  "We must."

  "Our task was to bring them back."

  "Maybe. But in a sense, we have accomplished our task, have we not? We have found out what we wished to, at least in part."

  Michael thought this over, then nodded. "If we leave, what will you do, four-legged one?"

  "Why dost thou defend—"

  Abdiel whimpered, and clutched at Michael. "He's going to spring! Help me!"

  "Answer my question," said Michael.

  Beelzebub nodded. "Thou hast answered mine full well."

  "I'll ask once more, small one. What will you do if we leave with our friend?"

  "I will wait until the Lord Satan awakes."

  Michael nodded. "All right then, we'll leave. When he awakes," Michael gestured at Satan, "tell him there will be another time."

  "An he were awake," said Beelzebub, "like words would he give unto thee, Lord Michael."

  "I'm sure of it."

  Michael turned his back on Beelzebub. "Let's go, then."

  Abdiel stood. He looked fearfully back at Beelzebub. Michael and Raphael each took one of his arms and assisted him back down the road.

  Michael looked back once and saw the eyes of Beelzebub fixed on him like the coals of the furnace of Asmodai.

  "Well, now, isn't this a fine-looking troop?"

  "Get out of our way, Mephistopheles."

  The one addressed opened his eyes wide and quickly stepped out of the way.

  "My apologies, Lord Michael. May I be of assistance?"

  The three of them walked past him, Michael and Raphael each holding an arm of a pale and shaking Abdiel.

  "Yes," said Michael as they passed. "If you see Satan, hold him for me. If you can't hold him, tell him to keep looking over his shoulder. One day soon, I'll be there."

  They continued down the road.

  "Odd," thought Mephistopheles. "Why is Abdiel overacting?" After some thought, he decided to continue traveling south.

  "Beelzebub!"

  "Who art thou? Ah! Harut. Thou mayest approach, an thy intentions toward the fallen be not evil."

  "My intentions aren't evil. The fallen?"

  "Ah! Thou canst not see. I had forgotten. My Lord Satan doth lie at my feet."

  "Satan! He's hurt then!"

  "Certes is he hurt. He lieth not on the road by my choice or his."

  "What happened? Should I get Raphael?"

  Beelzebub made a sound that could have been a laugh. "Methinks that Raphael needs us least of all."

  "What happened, Beelzebub? Ah! His face is warm. What's this?"

  "Where he was struck, Harut."

  "Struck? I don't get this. Struck by who?"

  "Raphael."

  "Raphael! You sure?"

  "Harut, it doth hurt me to tell thee, for he was thy friend more than mine, but—"

  "Who?"

  "Ariel."

  "Ariel? What does he have to do with this?"

  "Harut, Ariel is no more."

  "What?"

  "He hath been struck down, e'en to save me. A traitorous blow from a hidden spot did fell him but hours ago."

  Harut tried to speak, but found he couldn't. Tears welled in his eyes and a lump in his throat.

  " 'Twas Abdiel who struck the blow, but Michael and Raphael aided him, for they protected him when the Lord Satan and I would have torn him asunder for his deed. 'Tis an evil day, Harut."

  As Satan had done before, Harut, on his knees, covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

  When Mephistopheles found them, something told him to be careful—that this wasn't a time to be snide or sardonic. Maybe it was the way they stood, huddled over Satan who lay stretched on the ground. Maybe it was Harut, who knelt with his face in his hands. Maybe it was Beelzebub, who glared and said, "Come no closer, or thou shall feel my teeth, black one."

  Mephistopheles came closer, steadily, and said, "I mean you no harm, Beelzebub. Nor do I mean to harm the Lord Satan. Tell me what has happened."

  "Wherefore?" shot Beelzebub.

  "He should know," said Harut in a whisper. "He was a friend of... of..." His voice trailed off and he covered his face again.

  "I was a friend of whom?"

  "Ariel," said Beelzebub.

  "What do you mean, was?"

  "Ariel hath fallen."

  "What do you mean, fallen?"

  "He will not rise again. Abdiel hath destroyed him by a blow of the flux, which he did aim at me."

  Mephistopheles stood, staring. His mouth formed the word, "No," but no sound came forth.

  Beelzebub looked down then and said, "He stirreth!"

  "What is this?" demanded Michael.

  "My Lord, these are the Thrones of the Lord Yaweh, Lord King of all Heaven."

  Michael studied the small, thin archangel before him. "Your name is Raziel, isn't it?"

  "Yes, Lord."

  "Where did you get all that about Lord King of Heaven?"

  Raziel cocked his head, as if this weren't a fit question to come from the lips of a Firstborn.

  "It's what we call him," he said.

  "We? The Thrones?"

  Raziel nodded.

  Michael shook his head. "I don't understand this, but never mind. I'll find out."

  Raziel stepped aside, and Michael, Raphael, and Abdiel took the steps up and into the palace. Inside, they found more angels standing in the hallway. These had spears and stood in front of the door to the throne room.

  Michael located Gabriel among them and said, "Who are these angels, and what are they doing here?"

  "My Lord, these are the Cherubim," said Gabriel.

  "That doesn't answer my question. Why are they here, blocking my way?"

  "None may pass, Lord Michael, save at the Lord Yaweh's request."

  "This is outrageous!" he roared, and was reaching for Gabriel's throat when Raphael said, "Peace, Michael. This is Yaweh's Palace, and he may do as he will, here."

  She turned to Gabriel. "Please tell the Lord Yaweh that Michael, Abdiel, and I have arrived with news."

  Gabriel turned to an angel at his side and nodded to him.

 
The other bowed and departed.

  "I don't think I like this," said Michael. Raphael only shook her head.

  "What happened, Beelzebub?"

  "Thou hast taken a blow to thy head, milord."

  "Well, that explains why it hurts so much. From whom? Or what?"

  "The star of Raphael, milord."

  "Oh. Yes, she was sort of on top of me, wasn't she? Did I do anything to Abdiel?"

  "Naught more than affrighting him, milord."

  "That's a shame."

  "Verily, milord."

  "How did you make out?"

  "I spake with the Lord Michael, milord. We did argue upon thy body, and where it should be."

  "I see."

  "We did compromise our differences, at the end."

  "Compromise?"

  "He left, thou didst remain, and Abdiel didst escape with an whole throat."

  "I think you did well, Beelzebub."

  "As best I could, milord."

  He looked around, and nodded at Harut and Mephistopheles. "What are these two doing here?"

  "Mourning, milord."

  Lucifer found a stone beside a fast-flowing stream. He lifted it up, and, from a pocket in the sand beneath, he picked up a rod of scarlet light by its handle of gold. He looked at it, nodded his approval, and attached it to his belt.

  Lilith studied it for a moment. "What is happening, Lucifer?"

  "I don't know, Lilith. But I was threatened in Yaweh's Palace. Asmodai was also threatened. I'll not allow myself, or you, to be threatened and harassed."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Now? As I told you, we're going to visit Asmodai. Beyond that I don't know. Whatever we're forced to, I guess."

  "This is worse than a Wave."

  "I know." "Will it end?" "It'll have to end." "I wish it were over, then."

  He shrugged, looking through the forest that separated him from Asmodai's home.

  "Welcome, Michael, Raphael. And you as well, Abdiel, though I wonder about your behavior."

  "Yaweh, what does this mean?"

  "What, Michael?"

  "This!" He gestured around him at the impassive angels who surrounded the throne, each holding a long, heavy, double-bladed sword.

  "It means, Michael, that I no longer feel safe. I need to have angels near me to protect me from those who would destroy the Plan. I don't think I need to name names."

  "Do you really think they would harm you?" asked Raphael.

  "I know they would. Two of them, Asmodai and Lucifer, tried to force their way in."

  Michael and Raphael looked at each other. "Are you sure they would have harmed you?" asked Michael.

  "If they'd wanted to talk, they had the opportunity to do so when I requested to see Lucifer. And if you'd seen them, you would have known that they had no intention of talking. For a moment, Asmodai was in here. I won't try to describe the look he gave me."

  "I see," said Raphael.

  Michael's lips tightened. He turned away from the throne and covered the distance to a glass case in three long strides. With a sweep of his fist, the glass shattered. Heedless of the damage he did to his hands, he swept away the remaining pieces, reached in and took the sword. Still without a word, he strode out of the throne room.

  Yaweh, Abdiel, and Raphael watched him leave.

  "I suppose," said Raphael, "I'd better tell you what happened."

  Mephistopheles left without committing himself to anything or giving a definite answer as to where he was going. His last words were to warn the others away from the road itself, thus leaving them with the impression that he was with them.

  Mephistopheles couldn't commit himself yet. Not only did he not know which side was right, he wasn't sure what the sides were.

  That, he decided, was the first thing to find out. He felt free to leave because Harut had promised to tell Leviathan about Ariel. For that he was grateful. That was a task he didn't care for.

  On reflection, he realized he might have many tasks ahead of him that he wouldn't enjoy, no matter which side he ended up on.

  He set himself one task, however, that he would relish, and all it would take to perform would be a minute, alone, with Abdiel.

  "I understand most of what you have told me," said Yaweh at last. "But, Abdiel, how did you come to leave here, where you were safe?"

  "I don't know, Lord. I just had the feeling that I should be with Michael and Raphael—that they were going into danger without knowing it." He shrugged. "Unfortunately, I found Satan first. Fortunately, he hadn't found them."

  "Raphael," Yaweh said, "is there anything to add?"

  "No, Yaweh. That's everything."

  "All right. Raphael, you can go if you like. Abdiel, please stay for a while."

  "Of course, Lord."

  Raphael bowed her head a bit, then left.

  "How may I serve, Lord?" asked Abdiel.

  "First, know that from now on, you will be taking over the task of the Lord Satan, who has refused it."

  "Then the Plan goes on?"

  "Yes!"

  "I am glad, Lord. And I'll do my best to live up to the trust you have shown in me."

  "Good. And I have another mission for you."

  "I am ready, Lord."

  "Gather together the two hundred angels that I call Thrones, whose chief is Raziel. Tell Raziel to come and see me, for I have something special for him to do. You will be the new chief of the Order of Thrones."

  "Yes, Lord."

  "The first thing I want you to do is to find Satan."

  Abdiel swallowed. "Find Satan?"

  "Yes. And bring him to me, whether he wishes to be brought or not. Find a way to secure him, if necessary."

  "Very well, Lord."

  "Good."

  "May I make a request, Lord?"

  "Of course, Abdiel."

  "I'd like to rest, first. The events of the day..."

  "Of course. Tomorrow will be soon enough, Abdiel."

  "Till tomorrow, then, Lord."

  "Till tomorrow, Abdiel."

  He made a deep bow and left. He had gotten what he wanted—and, unfortunately, more than he wanted. But, at least for the moment, he had survived.

  "Well, not bad, eh, Sith?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "From the bottom to the top in one day?"

  "Oh. Yeah."

  "Seraphim. I like it. It has a nice sound to it."

  "Did you see the look on Asmodai's face, Kyriel?"

  "How could I miss it?"

  "Well, I don't know about you, but I wasn't sure about the whole thing."

  "Why not? There were ten of us, plus Uriel. Why worry?"

  "I don't know, but I was worried."

  "There's strength in numbers, Sith. Remember that."

  "I suppose. What do you think about the Thrones setting out after Satan?"

  "Well, I wouldn't like to be there, I'll admit."

  "Oh? What about strength in numbers?"

  "It isn't that. It's—well, I still think of him as on our side, if you know what I mean."

  "Hmmmm. Kyriel?"

  "Yes?"

  "You're right."

  "Yeah."

  "But you know what it means, don't you? We aren't on our side anymore."

  Lucifer and Lilith met Mephistopheles outside of Asmodai's door. They looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, Lilith said. "Good day, Mephistopheles. What brings you here?"

  He shrugged, never taking his eyes off Lucifer. "Oh, the usual. War, rebellion, strife, death. That sort of thing. And you?"

  "Answer her question, dark one," said Lucifer.

  "Answer mine, light-bringer."

  "I'll answer it this way: if you intend to harm Asmodai, you will have to deal with me first—or afterwards. Is that clear to you?"

  "Clear enough. If you intend to harm Asmodai, I'll look the other way. But if you don't, I have news for him that may concern you, too. Okay?"

  Lucifer spat. He took a step toward the door and y
elled down, "Asmodai!"

  They waited for a moment, then the small, strong archangel appeared from below.

  "Hello, Asmodai," said Lucifer. "This one," he gestured toward Mephistopheles, "says he has news for us. Do you want to let him in?"

  Asmodai shrugged. "Sure. All of you can come in. Find chairs. Get as comfortable as you can, considering."

  They did this. Lucifer turned to Mephistopheles. "All right, speak."

  Mephistopheles studied his thumbnail. Then he said, "Do any of you know Ariel?"

  There were nods from all around.

  "Then you should know this: Abdiel destroyed him today."

  "What?" cried Lucifer, standing.

  Lilith and Asmodai registered shock.

  "As near as we can tell, Abdiel was trying to get Beelzebub, and Ariel interposed himself. He used his own illiaster to send out a blast of some kind. I wouldn't know much about that. It destroyed Ariel instantly.

  "If it matters to any of you," he added bitterly, "it was over quickly."

  There was silence. Then Lucifer said, "What happened to Abdiel?"

  "Nothing," spat Mephistopheles. "Michael and Raphael helped him get away from Satan and Beelzebub. Raphael struck Satan as he was attacking Abdiel."

  "What I'd like to know," said Asmodai slowly, "is how Abdiel learned to control his illiaster that way. There aren't many other than Firstborn who can do that."

  Lilith looked at Lucifer, her face without expression. Lucifer hung his head and was silent.

  Yaweh studied Raziel. Raziel met his gaze honestly and frankly. Yaweh nodded after a while and spoke: "I am told that I am now called King of Heaven."

  Raziel nodded. "Yes, Lord. You are."

  "Whose idea was that?"

  Raziel blinked a couple of times and brushed a blond forelock out of his eyes. "It just seemed to happen," he said.

  Yaweh nodded. "I do not wish to be King of Heaven, Raziel."

  "Lord?"

  "I do not wish there to be a King in Heaven, Raziel. We've never needed one."

  "Excuse me, Lord, but—may I speak?"

  "Of course."

  "If there are those who oppose you—"

  "Exactly! If there are those who oppose me, and who oppose the Plan, then we need a king. If there are those who oppose me."

  "I don't understand, Lord."

  Yaweh leaned forward. "I feel that I can trust you, Raziel. That is why I made you Chief of the Thrones, and that is why I now want you to do something else for me."

  Raziel studied him. "Anything I can do, Lord," he said.