by Marie Browne
As he raised the sword, I pulled my ’duster-covered hands out of my pockets and punched him in the face. His sword winked out of existence as he fell back spluttering and cursing. Weaving my way through the other angels I started racing in Keril’s wake. Michael’s shouts and Raphael’s laughter followed me across the floor. As I ran past I grabbed the Drekavak’s arm and towed him along with me
‘You bastard!’ Keril pulled his arm away then reached over and thumped me as we ran through the cathedral and back toward the bedroom. ‘You told him they were headed for Karonet.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I panted back at him. ‘I heard Gallard tell them not to bother going there – they had enough supplies, they were to go straight to …’ I shook my head ‘Gah, I can’t even remember the other one they said they were going to.’
‘You nearly gave me a heart attack, you shit!’ Keril huffed as he tried to run, shout at me and get over the after effects of a horrible fright.
‘Sorry I didn’t tell you, but I really needed an honest reaction.’ I concentrated on running.
As we ran around the altar and through the pentacle room, Belial and Zephaniah approached, leading 12 women in long black robes, with deep hoods covering their faces. Belial reached out to stop me as I attempted to run past. ‘Where’s Carly?’ he shouted.
‘Just going to get all of them now. Where’s Farr?’ I bellowed back at him.
‘I sent him back to look after them. Get them out. Take them outside. I’ll join you there,’ he said.
‘You go too.’ Zephaniah swung around and put a hand on his chest. ‘We’ll hold them.’ She gave him a gentle smile. ‘Get out with the others.’
Belial snorted. ‘Have you become so adept over the years that you can perform the ritual while under attack?’
The Abbess shook her head slowly and stared at the ground. ‘We’ll buy you some time at least.’
‘No! I won’t allow it.’ Belial brought his wings and his sword into being. ‘The only way to buy us enough time to escape is for all of you to die.’ His huge charcoal wings lifted as he shrugged. Rolling grey matter dropped silently from the tip of his sword, hit the ground and then crawled away to dance with the smoke that drifted from the altar. ‘I have enough nightmares haunting me already – I don’t need any more.’ Pushing her gently aside he strode away toward the altar room.
Zephaniah watched him walk away then, gathering up her priestesses, they followed in his wake. I noticed that she was smiling. The women began a musical, lilting chant.
Keril and I skidded to a halt outside Carly’s room. She opened the door, her face pale and worried – each freckle stood out in sharp relief.
‘What’s happening?’ She stared past us down the corridor.
I leant on the door frame and winced as I clutched my side; how can someone with my healing abilities get a stitch?
Keril spoke round my wheezing and gasping. ‘Angels,’ he said. ‘They’re here. Belial told us to get everyone out.’
‘How did they get through the gate?’ Carly gripped the door. ‘Where are they?’
‘Heading for the altar room,’ Keril replied as he moved down the hall, banging on doors. ‘They destroyed the silver gate.’ He winced. ‘Lucifer is going to be very upset.’
‘So how do we get out?’ Carly looked at me in a panic.
‘There’s a passage beneath us.’ Sarah appeared. She fumbled at her belt for a moment then handed a ring of heavy metal keys to Carly. ‘Take these.’ She pointed down the corridor. ‘Through the door at the end you’ll find stairs. Go down and follow the passage through the blocks. You’ll find an old black door in the corner of the big room. It’ll take you out.’
‘Come with us.’ Carly grabbed the girl’s hand. ‘You’ll be safe with us.’
Sarah gave her a hug then, pulling her hand gently away, pointed her in the direction of the door. ‘I need to be with my sisters. I couldn’t leave now.’ Her gaze rested on each of us as she intoned, ‘May you find your true way and may those with need find their way to you.’
‘No.’ I gripped the elbow of her robe. ‘I can’t let you go back in there.’
‘Let go of me.’ Her voice cracked on the last word. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘No, you don’t understand, they will kill you without even thinking about it.’ I turned to face her. ‘Look, you’re coming whether you like it or not – we don’t have time to argue.’
Sarah stared at me for a moment and then placed her hand on top of mine. She said nothing but within seconds smoke began to pour through her fingers.
I yelped and ripped my hand from beneath hers. The skin across my knuckles was blackened and blistered.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she repeated, turning and walking away.
The sounds of shouting and the clash of weapons hastened our departure. Running through darkened passageways, I kept a firm grip on Graham’s sleeve while I listened to Parity who, guided by her brother, kept up a running commentary.
‘The women have surrounded the altar. Michael’s telling them that they are pure evil and that they should be wiped from the face of the planet. Belial has stepped out and Michael is laughing, taunting him.’
She stumbled slightly and Farr grabbed her, holding her tight to his body as we hurried along.
‘The smoke from the altar is dancing, getting thicker. The women have cut themselves and are pouring blood into the chalice. The deer-god moves …’
‘What?’ Graham stopped walking and turned around to face Parity. When there was no recognition in the seer’s blank white eyes, he turned toward Farr. ‘What did she say?’
Parity spoke on. Her dreamy voice gave me the chills.
‘He grows; he carries the statue of the mother with him. The women are still chanting. He is now tall, so tall. The smell of the forest fills the hall. Belial has challenged Michael who’s laughing. They fight but the archangel’s just teasing. He’s faster than this – he’s enjoying the pain he’s causing too much to want it to end.’
Carly stumbled. ‘Oh Dad,’ she whispered.
‘Belial is managing to keep him away from the women and Michael’s getting angry – he’s telling Belial that he’s a traitor, that he deserves everything that’s happened to him. He’s asking why he’s still alive – asking why he’s too much of a coward to end it all. Oh!’
‘What? What happened?’ Carly grabbed Parity’s arm, trying to find out what had caused the seer to stop. Farr gently removed her hand. ‘She can’t hear you at the moment,’ he said.
‘Belial’s hurt. He falls. Michael’s laughing.’
The seer fell quiet for a moment, her face astonished. ‘The Forest Lord is awake and angry. He screams and the angels concentrate on him. Sarah is pulling Belial behind the altar. The priestesses are using magic to still the angel’s wings, but it’s hard – they’re so strong. The women are becoming exhausted.’
Parity came to a complete halt. We all bunched up behind her and stood silent and still in the darkness.
‘The god is ignoring the angels even when they attack him. He’s marking the figurine with blood from the chalice. He has placed her at the very centre of the maze. There’s a lot of smoke.’
Carly whispered, ‘What about my father – is he all right?’
‘Carly?’ Holding her gently by the shoulders I turned her around. ‘I need you to get everybody out. I’ll go back for Belial.’
‘What can you do?’ She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.
I shrugged. ‘We can’t get Lucifer to where he needs to be without him and if he’s hurt …’
Carly chewed on a fingernail, distressed.
‘Go on.’ I gave her a quick hug then pushed her gently toward the Drekavak who nodded at me. ‘You and Keril get everyone a good distance away and hunt out Melusine. We’ll find you, I promise.’
‘The figurine is changing; it’s losing its glow as something comes from within, growing and … Oh it’s a woman. She’s laughing and she’s matching the
Forest Lord in size and height. They’re huge – he’s black, she’s white – two halves of the same coin.’
‘Come on, Carly.’ Keril nudged her, forcing her to look at him. ‘If he says he’ll meet us outside, he’ll make sure he does.’ The Drekavak gave me a long look then extended his paw, claws completely retracted. ‘See you in a little while.’ He nodded then laughed. ‘Go and slither your way out of yet another mess.’
I quickly grasped his paw but I didn’t really have time to answer that and I certainly wasn’t going to hang around to study my motives and refused to even think about them as I headed back along the passage at a quiet trot. Even before I was halfway there I could hear screams and the cracking sound of breaking wood.
As I stepped through the door, the beautiful pentacle roof shattered, showering me with glass. I hugged the side of the room and watched as a beautifully lethal rain of coloured glass shards tinkled and bounced around me. The huge deer-headed man casually plucked an angel out of the air, then slung it through the broken glass ceiling. The big grin that showed through his huge beard just confirmed this wasn’t the first angel to exit that way.
Michael was performing strike attacks at the white goddess. His flaming sword would open deep wounds on her huge hands and arms as she swatted at him like a wasp. He wasn’t happy when they closed again moments later. Raphael hung back and watched Michael batter away at the giant woman. He didn’t seem to be taking part in either the attack or the defence.
I looked around for Belial. Sarah was with him behind the altar – he lay still and pale and my stomach flipped. Another angel hurtled past, trying a surprise attack by leaping out of the rafters. With an almost lazy movement the stag-like god twisted his head and impaled it on one of his antlers. It dangled there screaming, blood trickled down the huge horns and over the god’s face and he glared wildly through the gruesome wet mask.
Sarah watched as I slowly paced along the wall. Keeping low I wasn’t noticed amid the noise and smoke. She nodded as I knelt down beside her. ‘How is he?’
‘He’s not going to be jogging for a bit but I think he’ll be fine.’ She smiled at me. ‘I’m glad you came back.’
‘I’m not.’ I ducked as one of the priestesses hurled a barrage of electric blue orbs across the altar toward the angels; each ball screamed as it flew overhead blowing chunks of masonry from the walls wherever it hit. ‘It’s terrifying in here.’ The ground shook as the horned Forest Lord screamed in fury. ‘What is that?’
She peered over the edge of the altar and stared up at the huge deer-faced being. She had such a look of devotion that I felt momentarily jealous. ‘We don’t really have a name for him.’ She smiled as, muscles bulging, he casually smacked an angel, sending it spinning into the wall with a puff of feathers.
I winced.
‘Some call him Cernunnos, some call him Baphomet, the Green Man or the Forest Lord.’ She seemed to be as proud as a mother watching a son and smiled again as she watched him casually flip a screaming attacker away from the forest of his horns. ‘But to us he’s just “God”. She watched the huge woman, her face twisted in contempt, batter angels into the rafters. ‘We don’t see her very often at all. She’s the real power – he’s her consort and changes with the turning of the year. She’s everlasting. They’re never seen together.’
‘But …’ I looked between the two; they were very obviously here together.
Sarah laughed. ‘That’s not really her. When her vessel animates it’s actually one of the priestesses that appears, infused with her spirit. I don’t know what it would take for her to really appear on this plane. It’s a huge honour to be chosen as her host.’
The avatar of the mother goddess created a tight, spiralling miniature tornado that picked up rubble, bricks and glass and sent it twisting toward two angels that, watching the devastation, had sensibly stayed out of the way. The wind, its voice echoing hers, gathered them into its spinning embrace for a moment then callously flung them into the wall. Feathers joined the debris that marked the wind’s course. Its task complete, the twister collapsed and vanished, leaving a couple of tattered, grubby feathers drifting through the smoke and dust.
Michael, taking advantage of the distraction, made his move. With a quick snap of his wings, he shot between the howling avatar and the angry Forest Lord. Snatching up the lifeless white statuette from the maze he headed toward the rafters. He held the vessel between both hands as he surveyed the destruction below him. As he dropped like a falcon from the rooftree, Zephaniah realised what he was intending and gasped ‘No!’
Three feet above the ground, Michael raised his arm and flung the statuette to the ground with all the force he could.
It exploded into a thousand tiny pieces that spun and glittered through the still rolling fog. Zephaniah screamed as the avatar, her effigy shattered beyond repair, became smoke. The women watched in shocked silence as Zephaniah, beyond reason, attacked Michael with her bare hands.
The archangel regarded the shrieking woman curiously for a moment, shaking his head in amusement as she pummelled and kicked at him. Eventually he became bored and with one backhand swipe knocked her from her feet. Zephaniah, her lip bleeding, struggled to rise to the attack once more.
Belial woke up with a grunt and fought against my restraining hand.
Michael laughed. ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’ Kicking the Abbess back to the floor he continued to kick her as she curled into a foetal ball.
Without the stability of his other half the god had begun to lose form. He shrank and I could see the outline of the altar through his body. The dark statue still on the altar began to tremble. As Michael dealt with his shrieking high priestess, the Forest Lord looked toward Sarah and there was a moment that passed between them.
Without hesitation she stood and, head held high, walked confidently toward him.
Michael, engrossed in his subjugation of Zephaniah, ignored her.
‘Lord.’ Sarah called up at the towering figure. ‘I accept your offer with all my heart.’
He stared down at her. Slit golden eyes reflected the fog and the candlelight, while his huge horns cast strange branching shadows onto the wall of the altar room.
Sinking to her knees, Sarah drew a long curved knife from her belt. Taking it in both hands she drew a deep, shuddering breath. The horned god gave her a gentle smile then leant forward to kiss her gently on the lips.
The priestesses, obviously realising what was coming next, pulled themselves together then threw everything they could at Michael. Balls of blue fire hissed as they rained from the ceiling, whirling stone blades and simple symbols that glowed white, so bright it was almost impossible to look directly at them, sped from the hands of the women to strike at him.
As she pulled away from his lips Sarah thrust the knife deep into her breast. Blood flowed over the god’s hands. He stared at it for a moment before catching Sarah’s body as it crumpled. Lifting her in his arms he held her gently as her body began to shimmer and shrink. Within seconds he was, once again, holding the white figurine of the sheela-na-gig that was the vessel of the goddess. Laughing and young, renewed by the sacrifice Sarah had made, the Forest Lord solidified and expanded once more. He placed the new statue carefully onto the altar then turned to watch Michael who was still viciously kicking Zephaniah every time she tried to move.
The look on his face made me very glad that I was hidden behind the altar. Michael, feeling the deity’s attention on him turned incredulously to face the renewed, perfectly healthy and vastly irritated Forest Lord. The archangel’s gleeful grin fell quickly away but even under that baleful gaze Michael drew his sword and attacked. Laughing, the deer-god waited until he was within reach then merely caught and held him. As Michael screamed and cursed everyone else became still and watchful. The furious archangel struggled and howled, spitting curses and threats into the god’s face. The ground shook as the giant form stepped toward the altar. Picking up the white statue he folded Michael l
ike clay and gently pushed him through the opening of the white vessel he had just created.
The sudden silence that took most of us a little by surprise was broken only by the occasional shifting of rubble, the tinkle of falling glass and the heavy breathing of 13 rather shocked women. Nodding in satisfaction, the Forest Lord turned and surveyed the damage to his home.
Raphael stepped from behind a column and walked slowly through the devastation. He looked neither left nor right but halted in front of the god who raised his eyebrows in a question.
Deer-faced deity and classically beautiful angel regarded each other in silence for a moment. Eventually Raphael tilted his head in a deep nod of acknowledgement. First to the Forest Lord, then to Zephaniah and then to the women still crowded behind the altar. ‘I think we’re finished here,’ he said. The angel gazed around the devastated hall. Broken lesser angels groaned and stirred in the rubble and glass. ‘There are some wounded that I would like to take, if I may?’
I feared the deer-lord would refuse, but after a moment he slowly nodded and with a wave of his hand indicated that Raphael was free to take the angels and leave. We all watched as, with the mobile supporting the more seriously injured, the little group headed toward the door. Raphael stopped at the headless body of William and bowed – he seemed to be struggling with his thoughts. As the last angel departed Raphael turned to face the Forest Lord once more. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. Without another word he walked into the dusty sunlight. The great door swung shut behind him.
Zephaniah, finally confident that all attacks had ceased, groaned and climbed to her feet, dabbing the blood from her split lip with the hem of her robe. The Forest Lord began to shrink. At about eight foot he rolled his shoulders, stroked the new sheela-na-gig vessel then began picking his way across the rubble toward Zephaniah who, her hand to her mouth, was staring at William’s smiling severed head with tears in her eyes.
Standing beside her, the deity stroked her hair. He turned and nodded to two of the priestesses who went to deal with the body.
The deer-headed being turned Zephaniah to face him and patted her hand, then led her to the altar where he pointed at the jar.