He smiled inwardly, remembering when he had informed Lucias of that little snippet. His reaction had been over-the-top absurd. It had sent him into such a fit of rage that the Throne Room itself trembled.
“He is completely mad, then?” asked Ambriel.
“Beyond mad, I would say. It feeds his anger, or mayhap it just energises his derangement, but it also takes him into a world into which we hopefully will never have to venture.”
“Say, how you would know this?” asked the ever distrusting Sammael. At last he voices his doubts, thought Xaphan.
“It’s funny how you recognise that his sanity is diminishing,” he added.
“Lucias beheaded Count Glasya-Labolas, a founding member of the Malum Reges, for little reason other than he had angered Lucias. He toyed with him as a cat would a mouse, and then killed him in front of everyone as though it meant nothing. He is Lucias the Terrible, or whatever he chooses to call himself, but he is also King Lucias and makes everyone aware of his Throne title. He is the ruler of the Malum Reges, and has introduced new members, the kind who will pay homage to him and agree with everything he wants to do or say.”
“That in itself is not proof of his madness. It just shows him for the evil that he has become.”
“You could say that, yes, but I have witnessed his madness firsthand. I have been on the end of his madness, as you saw from the gashes I wore when I entered this room. He has become worse over the last two moons, and I can tell you there is nothing ‘funny’ about his descent into insanity. Just the same, Sammael,” he said, trying to hide his resentment, his own anger beginning to rise, “if you care to swop places with me, I am ready to leave the fires of Hell and take up a more relaxing pursuit. Perhaps raise a family like Forcas, safe within a castle.” He was fed up of this constant doubting of his loyalty.
Omniel repressed a chuckle. The very thought of Xaphan near children sent him into uncontrollable laughter. The noise echoed against the hot walls within the cavern, bouncing back into the room like exploding roman candles. Each burst of light hit those within the room, and the infectious laughter took hold, and they relaxed into the light moment.
Xaphan crossed his muscular arms across his chest, the smile still on his face. “You may be right. Perhaps children and I don’t go together.”
“Oh,” said Omniel, “I was not laughing at your inability to raise them. I was laughing at the fact they will run circles around you, and your life will no longer be your own. Now that is something I will pay with some of my feathers to see.” He laughed again, but his eyes remained on Xaphan’s face, watching this good Angel’s pain slip away.
Ambriel glanced over at Omniel and bobbed his head slightly, acknowledging agreement.
“This new council gives me grave concerns,” Omniel said, “especially given recent events.”
“What might they be?” asked Xaphan.
“Mairi has been discovered,” he answered.
“Did you ever think to tell us?” asked Sammael.
“I just did!”
Xaphan stroked his chin and mumbled, “That’s what that little creep meant by his last comment.”
“He mentioned Mairi to you?” asked Ambriel.
The air in the room became charged with a new force when Appoloin materialised in the room. His wings were ripped, and blood oozed from his chest. Omniel ran to his side, holding him before he fell to the floor. He began to clean his wounds with one of the feathers he had plucked from his wings.
“Why do you come to this meeting, Appoloin? You should be with your charge. She should not be left alone, certainly not with all the information Xaphan has just imparted.”
“I called this meeting because Appoloin told me two days past that Mairi’s location had been found,” Ambriel interrupted.
Omniel almost dropped Appoloin so stunned was he by Ambriel’s revelation.
“How could you wait this length of time before telling us?” Sammael asked furiously. Ramiel held Sammael’s arm. “Calm down. Give him time to explain. There is always a reason.”
“All very well for you to say, you who has fathered one of them.”
Ramiel groaned. “How many times have I to tell you—forget it, I refuse to go into that discussion again.” He let go of Sammael’s arm and walked to the opposite side of the room and lay his elbow on the burning wall, which hissed and sizzled as it turned from smouldering black to hot red. Ramiel grunted and rubbed his elbow, cursing silently.
“Stop bickering!” screamed Appoloin. The room hushed. Appoloin wore the face of a terrified Angel.
“What has come to pass?” asked Ambriel.
“She’s been taken—he’s taken Mairi,” he uttered and fell to the ground. He held his head in his hands, then, frustrated, ran them through his long hair. He could not hide his fear and jumped up, striding from one Angel to the next, not seeing any of them, his mind lost in the sight of Mairi disappearing with Lucias.
Omniel called order to the room, and when all were silenced, he asked Xaphan to explain why he had told Lucias of the whereabouts of the Mistdreamers.
“I know Valerie is safe with Seere, but she is being observed by another Mistdreamer. I have tried to find out his identity, but he wears a glamour, one that is more powerful than anything I can break through, which leads me to believe he is not Fae, but one of us. I think him to be Angel.”
“But Valerie remains safe?” asked Ramiel hesitantly.
“Yes, she is very safe, apart from the sparks going off in their room, which could lead people to her… if they were able to get into the castle, that is.”
Omniel groaned aloud. “Please tell me no more. I do not believe I want to hear why there are sparks!”
A lighthearted moment to ease the tension helped all but Appoloin to relax.
“I believe, erm, I think…” Xaphan searched for the right words. “No, I’m fairly sure that they’re married.”
And that was it. The very same lighthearted moment blown to smithereens.
Omniel exploded. “Married!”
Feathers flew around the usually dark room, and light emanated and shot out from his eyes, which opened wide in horror.
“Has Seere not learned from Forcas, the disaster marrying a Mistdreamer can cause?”
Appoloin remained quiet, lost in thought. Ambriel also kept his mouth shut. An Archangel losing his temper twice in a row may have drastic effects throughout every universe, and with all the problems they still faced, perhaps it was not the best of ideas to share his happy news about his marriage to Mairi.
When Omniel began to breathe easier, Xaphan spoke again. “The good news is that Valerie’s memory is beginning to return. The bad news is, I refuse to be anywhere near her when it is fully returned.”
A hush fell upon them as Adramelechk flew into the room, his wings outstretched. Appoloin rushed to him, his face etched in worry.
“Tell me you found her,” he pleaded.
“Not yet, Brother, but we will not stop looking until she is safely returned to your arms, I promise you that.”
“Appoloin, I think you may have to explain what has happened to Mairi. Share with us the events leading up to when she went missing, and how you know she is missing.”
Appoloin drew a breath and explained how difficult Mairi could be, hoping that Omniel would not recognise his true feelings when he spoke of her. He continued with his explanation, saying Mairi had left the house. “She always wants fresh air,” he told them. Then, he described how he, together with the Guardian Angels, had eventually followed, only to see her in a trance, eventually disappearing with Lucias.
Adramelechk was focussing on his feet and shifted around uncomfortably. He had been unable to penetrate the haze of Lucias and protect his Mistdreamer and could not understand why Lucias had been so strong.
“There is magic afoot here,” claimed Xaphan.
Appoloin was beside him immediately, holding his shoulders. “You have knowledge of where she may be?” he asked des
perately.
“No, my friend, I am sorry. I have seen nothing of your Mistdreamer since you took her through The Veil. You missed what I said previously, when you were absent. I was interrogated by Lucias, and unfortunately, told him the whereabouts of Valerie, and that I didn’t know where Mairi was.”
“What was his response?” Appoloin asked.
“He said I wasn’t to worry about where she was, and that he was enjoying her regularly.”
“I am going to kill him,” Appoloin promised.
“Wait!” Sammael said frantically. “If he has Mairi, that means Valerie is left vulnerable.”
“How can you say this? It is Mairi who is in danger!” Appoloin said angrily. “We must find her.”
Sammael grabbed Appoloin’s arm. “Appoloin, think, if he has Mairi, then he knows Valerie is in Tír na nÔg—he knows she is with the Dragon.”
“The Dragon are being murdered,” Xaphan said, “and I am certain Lucias is responsible. He must have access to their world.” He turned to Appoloin, concern in his eyes. “I have to agree with Sammael. You need to get to Seere.”
“If they are killing Dragon, there must be Fae involved, and if they are, it can only mean one thing.”
Ambriel spoke quietly and sadly, “We go to war.”
“I must find Mairi!” Appoloin insisted. “I cannot leave her alone in the evil of Lucias. I have only one choice, and that is to kill him.”
Xaphan held his friend by the shoulders. “I respect your decision, and if I can be of help, just ask. You may get the opportunity sooner than you thought if we now go to war on Tír na nÔg!”
Appoloin grabbed Xaphan’s forearm, his hand circling his elbow, and their pact was made solid.
“I must go,” Xaphan insisted. “If I am gone for any length of time the Rat King is suspicious. I will work something out with Flauros, or discover what he wants of me, and will contact all of you as soon as I can.”
“Be safe, Brother,” Appoloin said, and pulled Xaphan into a ferocious hug.
Xaphan spread his wings. They were tinged with black, though some white remained on his feathers. His constant entering into Hell was destroying their goodness.
Omniel plucked a feather from his wing and handed it to him. “Keep this safe, Xaphan,” he said and planted it amongst his feathers. When the roots of the feather became fixed, his feathers changed to white. The Angels smiled in appreciation.
“I know you were of the opinion that because your feathers had become tainted that some part of your soul had gone that way also. My feather just proves you wrong. Your heart and soul are still pure.”
Xaphan was astounded by the Archangel’s generosity, but worriedly asked that his wings be returned to their previous black tinge.
“They are still of the tinge you speak,” he replied seriously. “We, your fellow Infidelibus and brother Angels, are those who can only see your true self. Go with care, my boy, and tell us soon what to expect. You now can speak directly with me.”
Xaphan was astonished. “I am dumbstruck. I thought the darkness was pervading my soul and that you all would believe me to be a demon.”
“We are all demons.” Adramelechk said. “What are demons, but Fallen Angels?”
“Go, Xaphan,” Appoloin insisted. “We will be there when you need us. You have battled too long on your own. It’s time for us to share the danger you have taken upon yourself.”
Xaphan opened his magnificent three-tiered wings. Their singing had been muted recently, but here, standing with his friends, as he stretched them wide enough to touch the walls, they sang loud and proud, the sweet song that was like a thousand bells tinkling as his feathers danced, preparing for flight.
He searched the faces of the Angels, his pact of The Infidelibus, and felt as one, then the ceiling opened, and all that was above him were the heavens. He soared through the clouds with a heart so content that when he found he was back in the pits of Hell, he could smile to himself when he saw the demented Lucias, dressed in full battle gear.
Yes, Xaphan would be ready, and not alone, for what was to befall all of them.
Chapter Fourteen
“You are going to battle?” asked Xaphan.
“You have decided to return?” Lucias replied.
He is demented, thought Xaphan, noticing that his eyes were flashing and rolling wildly, searching all around the room and all those who stood nearby. The Malum Reges were beside him, wearing full battle regalia.
“What say you tell me how my little present has been removed from your person?” asked Lucias as he ran a finger along the scar on Xaphan’s forehead.
“It was full of poison. Did you mean to kill me with that little ‘present’?” he sneered back.
“Are we to wait until this little tête–à–tête is complete, or can we move to make war?” asked Duke Vual.
Lucias glared at him, but Vual shrugged it off as though a small bug had landed on his coat.
“You did not tell us you were attempting to kill the Angel?” asked Flauros.
“That is my business, Flauros, not yours. Remember your position here, and that it is one that I gave you. Even The Conjurer was against you joining our Malum Reges.”
Duke Marchiosas was standing beside Flauros and momentarily leaned into him. Xaphan read his lips when he whispered “lie” into his ear.
“Why are you looking so surprised?” spat Lucias venomously.
Xaphan could not hide his shock as he scanned around the Throne Room. Gone were the Thrones, which normally sat in a circle. There was normally one for each demon member of the Malum Reges, with depictions of the beasts they became carved into the marble armrests. There were no shackled minions, and the Aubusson rugs were no longer spread across the sumptuous hematite floor. Instead, the decadent room was strewn with armed demons. Even the nine stained glass windows, which showed a scene of each of the Malum Reges, had been hidden. Steel bars covered them, blotting out the false light from Hell’s fourth realm.
“I had not noticed your legions were here. Who is it we go to war with?” Xaphan asked, still slightly in shock.
“We go to war with the Dragon. I want them all dead, and I will have my retribution on Seere. He is a poisonous snake that will be destroyed.”
Xaphan recognised the madness in Lucias, and it was worse than ever. He was dangerously demented; there would be no convincing him that his plan would not work.
“How do you intend to cross into Tír na nÔg? How is it we can battle when there is no hope of entry?”
“I have my own little weapon. She will be very handy when we cross forth.”
“I’m sure you do,” Xaphan said, desperate to appease the unbalanced man, “but I’d keep that in my pants until the war was over. You don’t want to frighten them all.”
The room echoed with snickering. A few outright laughs came from the ranks of lowly demons, but they were quieted with a quelling look from Lucias.
“How do we cross?” Xaphan asked again.
Lucias moved constantly, his body twitching agitatedly. His head jerked from side to side, and he could not remain in one spot for any length of time. So evident was his anger, he was on tenterhooks and could not stay still. Excitement, anger, frustration, and hatred all boiled together to make the man who now faced Xaphan.
“There is a tear in the fabric of The Veil, and we will enter through that opening. I already have my soldiers waiting on the other side, scoping the territory, but my special weapon will be what ends it all.”
“And your weapon would be?”
“I have the Mistdreamer. It will be she who will bring an end to it, and we will be glorious in the defeat of both Fae and Dragon. We will bathe in their blood and drain the magic to make us stronger.”
Xaphan didn’t miss the passing glance between Flauros and Vual. This obviously was not what they had signed up for, and they gave the distinct impression of being decidedly uncomfortable.
“Who will carry the Mistdreamer?” asked Fla
uros.
“I say it should be me,” insisted Vual.
“Stand down, both of you!” screamed Lucias. “You”—he pointed to Flauros—“will go nowhere near the Mistdreamer. You have already managed to cause dissension in the ranks. Your role,” he said as he sneered, “is to stand behind me, and my demons will guard my back, to ensure you are not tempted to use your knife against me and stab me in the back.” As he spoke, three demons carrying massive spears moved to stand behind Flauros, their spears poking him in the back. His back began to sizzle underneath the touch of the ironware.
“You dare to poison me?” asked Flauros furiously.
“I dare to keep you in the position to which you belong, and that will always be beneath me. Am I understood?” he yelled.
“Of course you are, my lord,” Flauros responded and took a step away from the demons’ spears. “I will keep your back, safe.” And your front open for anyone with a wish to kill you, he thought.
Lucias snapped his fingers, and the Demon first-class stepped forward. He was instructed to get the Mistdreamer and ignore any questions anyone else in the cells may ask of him. He bowed, but before he left, Lucias stabbed at the air in the direction of the Demon’s head. He stopped and shook it, then he slapped his ears. Turning, aghast, he mouthed words that did not come forth. When Lucias responded, the demon grimaced and moved his ear in his direction, for he was no longer able to hear.
“That will save any time.” Lucias chortled. “Even if they speak, you’ll not hear or be able to respond. You will hear only me, Demon. Now go, fetch the Mistdreamer.”
The demon walked through the hordes, some laughing at his distress, but most were concerned who next might fall victim to Lucias’s spite.
“Do you think he’ll remember all we asked of him?” King Amdusias whispered to Baal when the demons removed Cassiel from his cage.
“He is a very determined Mistdreamer. We will just have to sit and wait. He is still under the impression Biorna is the reason he has been held captive, and we cannot break through that mental torture. We can only hope that those stupid demons do what is expected of them.”
The Park Family: Mairi: Retribution Page 21