Two hours passed—enough time for Dariel and Keruel to leave the city, moving toward their assigned positions—and Gadriel’s troops began to slip onto the plain, taking their places in front of the rebels. Michael shook his head sadly. Lucifer’s schoolboys would awaken at dawn and see Gadriel’s legion drawn up in front of them and they would believe they were looking at the entire army of heaven. They would think they stood a chance.
But, in truth, even if Gadriel’s legion had actually been the entire army, Lucifer’s force still would not have been able to stand against it. And it was not the entire army, just a single legion. Lucifer’s boy-soldiers would find themselves outnumbered three to one, caught in a triangle, each side formed by a legion. What would they think, how would they feel, when they found themselves being crushed from all sides with no avenue for escape?
It would be a slaughter.
Michael watched as the fires in the rebel camp began to go out, a sure sign of an army settling in for the night. He smiled—Lucifer’s fires had served their purpose. They had made it possible for Michael’s soldiers to find the way to their positions in the dark.
***
Adryel and the others huddled by a small fire inside the deserted Institute, finishing the bread and cheese they had brought for their evening meal.
“Beliel, it’s time to move. You have the oil?”
“Of course.”
He pointed to eight containers of grease that had been stored in one of the wagons. They had hidden them under their robes as they trekked through the city. Those would have been difficult to explain to the guards had they been stopped, but they’d had no better way to transport the containers.
“Lord Lucifer’s office is at the top of the central tower. Soak that roof well, Beliel. If any oil is left, pour it on the roof of the Commons. Wave to me when you’ve finished, and I’ll signal when to set the fire.”
The Institute’s buildings, constructed of stone, would not burn, but the roofs were wood. They would pour oil across them and set the oil afire. Whether the wood caught or not was unimportant. The oil itself would produce magnificent flames as it burned, and the burning tower would be visible across the city. The alarm would be raised, the flames would frighten the population, and they would panic. Guards would be drawn off the wall, descending upon the school to fight the blaze.
As Beliel and three of his soldiers entered the tower, Adryel and the other five pulled cloaks around their bodies. She knew the city well and, once the alarm sounded, she would lead them through the back streets to the north gate. With the reduced guard and confusion in the city, they would be able to dash through the streets, overpower the remaining guards, and open the gate wide. Maliel would be waiting with an entire company of Beliel’s recruits. They would take control of the gatehouse, and the army would be free to enter. With surprise on their side, and panic in the streets, they would control the city before dawn.
It ought to work.
Adryel squinted as she watched Beliel working on the roof. She was barely able to make out his silhouette against the unusually dark sky. She paid the darkness no mind—it was to their advantage, after all. Instead she focused all of her attention on Beliel. She doubted others could see him as he went about pouring the oil, unless they were expecting him to be there, as she was. No, no one else would be watching.
After several minutes, she noticed Beliel step to the edge and wave his arms wildly, signaling that they were finished. She could just make out the others hurrying away, leaving Beliel to set the fire, which he was to ignite at midnight, as the last candles went out.
The army would move out as the first lights in the palace’s tower were extinguished, and Maliel would lead a small group dashing across the plain to seize control of the entrance. Adryel’s group would reach the gate just as Maliel’s troops arrived, giving the defenders no chance to regroup.
She was certain of their success—their moves had been well practiced. Before they marched on the city, while they were in the mountains, they had rehearsed again and again, marking off the distance between the Institute and the gate, filling the route with soldiers to represent the crowds who would have been awakened by the blaze, making certain they knew how long it would take them to reach the gate.
Adryel finally allowed her gaze to travel right, toward the palace. She caught her breath. Everything was dark. The candles had been extinguished already. Were they late? Had she missed the ceremony? Surely she had not been that focused on Beliel’s activities on the roof. . .
She looked around wildly. No lights were visible in any of the buildings that poked above the walls of the Institute. Why had she not noticed this before?
Adryel ran to the Institute’s gate and peeked through a crack in the boards that covered the opening. The entire city appeared to be cast in total darkness, except. . .
She wheeled around. Their fire seemed to be the only light visible in the city, making them a target. If someone had noticed it, though, soldiers would have been summoned. But none had come. They had been lucky. Again.
She hesitated. What would happen if they opened the north gate and Maliel was not there to fight off the guards? What if they were late, and the guards spotted Maliel’s squad waiting outside? Early better than late, she decided. They were armed with knives—while they could not hold off a sustained attack, she could cut a guard’s throat, and she felt certain Beliel and his friends could account for themselves. “They would likely enjoy it,” she sniffed.
As she looked back at Beliel, waiting on the roof, she heard the crier calling the hour.
“Midnight. Midnight.” His voice floated across the city.
She smiled and stepped in front of their small fire so that Beliel could see her. She raised both arms over her head, the signal to torch the building.
“Burn,” she whispered. “Burn.”
Beliel bent, struck a flint against a rock, and sparks landed at the edge of the tower’s roof. From the ground, Adryel could see them flare as they struck the oil. Beliel dropped to the next level and sent sparks flying across the roof of the Commons. Then he dashed for the ground.
She watched as the flames crept across the roof. Then, with a sound like the rush of wind, they erupted, engulfing the entire tower, flames shooting high into the air.
As Beliel reached the ground and donned his cloak, the roof of the Commons caught fire, sending flames ten meters high. Sparks mingled with the flames, and, caught up by wind, they dropped onto nearby buildings, igniting them too. Quicker than Adryel had thought possible, the entire Institute was on fire and the blaze was spreading beyond its walls. The entire city could go up.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The fire bells at the palace and the north gate rang wildly. Voices in the street called out, “Fire! Fire!” and screams were heard from those in nearby buildings.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
It was time to act. “Let’s go,” Adryel called as she led the others to the door through which they had entered. As they dashed down the alley and reached the square in front of the Institute, guards began to converge at the Institute’s front gate. The group clung to the wall to avoid exposure as they advanced down the street, away from the fire.
Angels were pouring out of the nearby buildings, some congregating in the street, some trying to escape, pushing and shoving as they rushed away from the burning structures. Children were crying and angels were screaming.
“The Institute is burning!”
“It’s spreading. We’ll all be killed.”
“Help us, help us.”
An older angel was knocked to the ground in front of Adryel. She stopped, intending to pick her up, but then stepped over her instead, not looking back. The rules had changed, she reminded herself. She pushed past the panicked angels and rushed away, toward the north gate.
Eager to avoid detection and needing to circumvent the mob that was beginning to form, Adryel led her small group along the darkened side streets. She pull
ed her hood back so she could see where she was going. It no longer mattered if she was recognized.
As they reached an intersection and turned right, her house loomed ahead. Like the others, it was dark. She scowled. What did it matter if it burned to the ground? It meant nothing without Ramael. She glanced toward the house again as she passed. It wasn’t completely dark, after all—a faint light flickered in one window. Someone was living in her house. So what? She shrugged. Let them burn too.
They stopped at a nearby wall, and Adryel addressed her group.
“When we turn this corner, the gate will be ahead, on the right, about a block.” She drew her knife from its sheath. “There should be only a couple of guards, given the time and the fire.”
As she spoke, a sound like thunder came from behind them. She turned to see the tower collapsing into the building beside it, sparks raining down on roofs throughout the student quarter of the city. It mattered not. She turned back to the group.
“Beliel, you open the gate. Maliel should be waiting.” She looked at the others. “Kill the guards.”
Then Adryel peered around the corner.
“Go.” She waved her arm. “Go.”
They rushed the gate, all arriving at the same time. Five guards whirled around to meet them. Adryel’s heart was pounding hard and she felt a surge of excitement as she threw herself at the closest one, pulling the blade of her knife across his throat, imagining him to be Michael.
“Halt!”
She heard the command just as something hard struck her across the back of her head.
***
Gadriel and Michael heard shouting below the wall. Turning, they found a squad of soldiers had cornered a group of angels in purple robes. A guard lay on the ground, his throat cut. One of the purple robes was down too.
They began pulling the hoods away from the prisoners’ faces. “It’s Beliel,” Gadriel gasped. “Rebels,” he shouted. “Take them into the guard house, and chain them to the wall.”
“What about this one?” A guard turned the purple-robed figure over on her back.
It was Adryel. Gadriel stiffened—at one time she had been his friend. “Her too. All of them. Lock them away.” He turned away.
Michael gave him a moment, then reached out to touch Gadriel’s shoulder.
He looked up, took a deep breath. “They probably set the fire,” he told Michael. “As a distraction.”
As Michael nodded, they heard a disturbance near the gate, metal striking metal, screams of pain, the neighing of a horse. He whipped around, straining to see what was happening.
“Rebels are attacking,” came the cry from the darkness. “Rebels at the gates.”
“Wheel left. . .There they are. Forward. . .Attack.” Commands rang out from below.
“I need to go, Lord Michael. What are the orders for battle?”
Michael gave a deep sigh. “Give no quarter. Kill them. Kill them all.”
Gadriel nodded. Then he spread his wings and floated to the ground. Michael heard him rallying his troops, relaying his orders.
“Gruel, support the left flank,” Gadriel called to one of his lieutenants. “Move out. Everyone, we’re under attack. . .Lord Michael’s orders,” he shouted above the confusion. “Kill the rebels. Kill them all. No prisoners.”
Michael stood quietly for several moments, his hands folded, listening to the fighting below. Then he stretched his arms out to his sides, the palm of one hand facing east, the other west. Rays of light shot forth from each hand, a kilometer in each direction, stretching to the ends of the north wall. He raised his hands above his head. The light followed, forming an arc around the gate, reaching high into the sky, far beyond the clouds. He dropped his arms, pointing north, across the plain, and the light surged forward, a solid sheet, turning the darkness of night into the light of day.
***
Lucifer’s head jerked up at the sound of battle. His fire alone continued to burn in the camp, all others having been extinguished. Still, he could see nothing beyond it.
What was happening?
He leaned around the fire, determined to find out.
The walls now stood in silhouette against the flames that were consuming the Institute and, it seemed, a good portion of the city. He spotted a figure standing above the north gate, Michael, surely. As he looked, Michael stretched his arms out to his sides.
“So, now you want light,” Lucifer snarled. “We’ll see.”
He raised his arms above his head, with his palms facing outward. He turned them and then clapped four times.
Thin black mist began to rise from the ground beneath his feet. It spread up and out as if two hundred angels stood behind him waving the large fans, two meters across, that the cherubim carried in procession before Adonai.
The mist became smoke. The smoke rolled and rose, flowing across the camp, blotting out the sky as it grew thicker and blacker. Lucifer lowered his arms, pointing toward the city, and the cloud began to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until it was if the fastest steed in the city was galloping across the plain, dragging the cloud behind him.
The wave of light pouring from the city accelerated, hurtling toward the cloud. The plain beneath the light was lit as at noonday, and Lucifer could see the army of heaven arrayed before the city walls.
Lucifer’s troops were dashing forward, swords and spears raised, battle cries echoing off the wall. Michael’s army waited, shields up, weapons drawn. The gates were not open and Maliel’s company was nowhere to be seen.
As the armies met on the plain, the light and the cloud collided in an explosion that rocked the ground on which Lucifer was standing. The white light splintered into a myriad of colors, and sparks rained down on the armies below.
For a moment, the light held the cloud at bay, and the cloud barred the light from further advance. Then, slowly, very slowly, the cloud began to yield.
As the light rushed above Lucifer’s army, he heard shouting from his left and, turning, found Dariel’s soldiers advancing on his flank from the northeast, pushing his soldiers before them. Shouts came from his right and his head whipped around to see Keruel’s legion dashing across the plain from the northwest. Caught between the two, his army could only move south, toward the city, and Gadriel’s legion was planted firmly in front of the walls. Lucifer’s army had no out.
“Ami, Mia,” he called. “We’re leaving.”
As the three legions moved to crush his troops, rather than stand his ground, Lucifer made ready to flee.
Relegated to the Pit
Michael stood at the city gate, watching as Keruel approached, leading Lucifer. His arms were bound behind his back and his feet were hobbled. Keruel grasped one arm and his lieutenant held the other. Nevertheless, Lucifer walked proudly, his head held high, his chest out.
“I’m not a child who needs to be led around,” he snapped as they neared the gate and he shook off his captors’ hands. He looked down on Keruel, contempt written on his face. Behind him, other soldiers were dragging Ami and Mia, who screamed, kicked, and cursed at their captors.
Gadriel walked out to meet them. “What part of your orders did you fail to understand?” He barked, his eyes flashing. “What could possibly be misconstrued in ‘Kill them. Kill them all,’ I wonder.”
“They were trying to escape. When we cornered them, Lord Lucifer laid down his sword and all of them raised their empty hands above their heads. Had any one taken a single swing, they’d all be dead, but. . .” Keruel lifted his hands in helplessness.
“There are others,” another soldier said, gesturing around the field. “They gave up. They simply quit fighting. Killing them seemed to be—”
“Obeying your orders?” Gadriel was clearly fighting to control himself. “I’m certain every power did as he had been told to do,” he growled. “These difficulties only arise when angels are included in the ranks.”
Shaking his head, Gadriel looked across the plain. Michael followed his line of si
ght. The battle had lasted barely an hour. It was long over and the day was beginning. Soldiers, angels—likely to Gadriel’s further dismay—were dragging other prisoners toward the city.
“Put them there.” Gadriel pointed to a spot in the middle of the north road, about twenty feet beyond the wall. “On the ground. Guard them.”
It was Michael’s turn now to shake his head as he watched Lucifer refuse to sit. But he smiled when the soldier kicked Lucifer’s legs from beneath him, forcing him to the ground near Ami and Mia, and then bound him so he could not get up.
As Gadriel turned toward the city, Michael strode away from the gate.
“Prisoners?”
Gadriel shrugged. “I’m told they surrendered. The angels decided it made no sense to kill unarmed rebels. . .Disgusting.”
Gadriel made the word angels sound like an insult. Michael smiled. “You are right. They should have obeyed their orders. However. . .our orders have changed.”
***
Adryel sprang to her feet as she awoke, only to be yanked backward by the chain locked around her right ankle. She crashed against a stone wall.
“Ow,” she screamed.
She sat for a moment, rubbing her arm where she had struck the wall. A spot on the back of her head ached, and she winced when she touched it. Where was she? What had happened?
Gradually, she started to remember turning the corner, dashing toward the gate, her knife drawn. She had seen five guards—more than she had expected—but there were ten in her group. As she had cut one guard’s throat, several others had dropped from the wall, she’d heard a voice behind her, then all had gone black.
Now, light filtered into the room under the heavy wooden door, and she decided it was morning, or later. There was no sound, so if there had been a battle, it was over. She was chained to a wall, so. . .
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