by Vox Day
“We’re doomed,” Lord Verchiel whispered. His fearsome Aspect faded, and in place of the lion-headed monster stood a long-faced archon, despair written in every line on his face. “There’s no hope. We must fight our way back through the Gate, or we will fall here.”
Although Baal Chanan and the other commanders refused to submit to Verchiel’s pessimistic counsel, they were clearly concerned. Nor did they appear to have any better ideas.
“Ahem….” Christopher cleared his voice. “Excuse me, but I have an idea, if you want.”
The Fallen commanders turned and looked at him as one. It was more than a little intimidating, and Christopher found himself swallowing hard.
“Who is this?” Baal Chanan growled, ignoring Christopher to glare at Kaym.
“He is called Christopher and he speaks in my name,” Kaym answered, unperturbed. “He opened the gate for us.”
Christopher couldn’t help grinning as he watched the sharp, disdainful looks quickly fade from the hostile faces surrounding him, replaced by respectful interest and curiosity.
“It was him?” Baal Chanan asked, looking surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought he had the power.”
“He doesn’t,” Kaym replied. “But he had the key, you might say.”
“Interesting. We must speak more of this later. Unfortunately, we have more pressing needs at the moment.” The Fallen general nodded his massive head at Christopher. “Go on, tell me of your thoughts.”
“Okay, well, when I heard that we were trapped, I got to thinking about how we could get out of this. And I realized that what we need to do is to arrange to attack them from both sides. See, it doesn’t matter if they outnumber us, as long as we outnumber them at the point of attack. I read a book on Caesar once, and even though he was almost always outnumbered, he always won.”
Baal Chanan looked at Kaym, who shook his head. They didn’t understand where he was going, Christopher realized. He spoke faster.
“Okay, well, forget that. The point is, Kaym said we have other legions waiting for us outside the other gates, right? So what we have to do is to launch a diversionary attack, and at the same time send a force to break through the lines in front of us. Once they're through, they split off, most of it loops around behind to make a flank attack, and a smaller group runs for the nearest gate to open it. The flank attack will get crushed, but it should keep the enemy busy enough to buy the time required to get to the gate and back.”
“Are you sure that you can open another gate?” Belphegor sounded as if he was afraid to be hopeful.
Christopher felt inside his robes for the golden key. It was still there.
“Yeah, I can do it.” He silently added, I think.
Baal Chanan made a strange face that pressed his tusks against his cheeks as he looked up at the devastated dome over their heads.
“Bah,” he growled. “I don’t like it, but it’s worth trying. The alternative is to sit and wait for them to run over us, and I like that even less. Kaym, you’ll go with him. Take as many fighters as you need. How many do you want for the diversionary attack?”
Christopher nodded eagerly. They didn’t need to believe in the plan, they just had to be willing to give it a chance.
“As many as you can spare without leaving your rear undefended. You’ve got to hit them hard enough to grab their attention. The breakout force shouldn’t be very large, just big enough to cut through their lines, and the group going for the gate should be small enough so they won’t notice us breaking away.”
“I am forced to wonder how one so young should come to such wisdom, when his elders lack it,” Baal Chanan said with a pointed glare at Verchiel, who had resumed his maned Aspect.
“Verchiel, you will lead the breakout force, subject to the command of Kaym and this… ah, Christopher, I believe was the name.” He harrumphed loudly. “I myself will command the diversionary attack. Belphegor and Im Barku, spread the word around your cohorts that we are to attack at once. When the trumpet sounds, we’ll hit their left with everything we have except for your cohort, Asmodel. Your job is to keep that other host off our back until we return to our lines.”
The Lord of Havoc turned to Christopher and Kaym as his commanders bowed and murmured their assent.
“Now go. Just get him to the Tenth Gate, Kaym, and may the Prince shine His light upon you, for whatever that’s worth. By the way, what did you want to see me about?”
“I wanted to put Christopher under your protection,” Kaym said.
“Oh, succeed in this and you’ll have it, Christopher. You’ll have it and more.” Baal Chanan laughed, a deep, unpleasant sound that reminded Christopher of rocks being crushed into gravel, and turned back to his commanders.
As Christopher followed Kaym out into the streets of Heaven, he could hear the Fallen general growling gutturally at his commanders.
“Now tell your accursed cohorts to fall back as soon as they hear the retreat, or I swear I’ll eat their souls even if they make it back….”
Chapter 8
Breath of the Cherub
Vere magnum habere fragilitatum hominus securitatum Dei.
—Seneca (Bacon p.19)
Christopher ducked under a sweeping two-handed swing, and the angel before him stumbled with the force of his miss. He thrust upward as he moved to the side, and his sword disappeared into the angel’s white robes. There was a brief flash of light that blinded him momentarily, and when he opened them, the angel was gone.
“Yaah!” he shouted. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it felt good to shout.
There was a huge explosion behind him and to his left, deafening even at this distance. Christopher winced and looked around as he rubbed at his ear, then realized that they were nearly through the Divine lines. Verchiel was on his right, roaring madly as he dispatched two lesser angels with his claws. Maybe he wasn’t such a coward after all. On his left, Kaym had changed Aspect again as he grappled mightily with a powerful archangel.
The archangel had both hands locked around Kaym’s throat and was zapping him with bolt after bolt of furious lightning. But the fallen angel did not clutch at those burning hands with his own, instead he transformed them into giant crab-like pincers. As the stink of ozone filled the air, Kaym’s big claws gripped the archangel by the waist. There was a snap and a flash of yellow, and the archangel was gone.
Christopher extended a hand, and as the pincers shrank back into their normal appearance, Kaym grabbed it and pulled himself up.
“That’s a good trick!” he said.
Kaym grimaced and rubbed his throat.
“Good thing too. He was stronger than I thought. Took me by surprise.”
“So use your sword next time, dude” Christopher jeered at him. “Hey, look! We’re almost through.”
As Kaym advanced on the last two angels standing between them and freedom, Christopher called out to Verchiel.
“Verchiel. Verchiel!”
“Lord Verchiel,” the giant winged lion shouted back, with a disdainful look on his face.
“Whatever.” Maybe Verchiel wasn’t a coward, but he was still a dim-witted jerk. “Look, we’re through. Now circle behind them and keep them busy while we make a run for the Gate.”
“So Baal Chanan has commanded me. I obey his will.”
Yeah, yeah, Christopher thought. Just so you do it. But before he opened his mouth to yell back at Verchiel, the fallen archon turned and leaped back into the fray, rending one angel with his claws as another perished before the shock of his bellowing roar.
“Okay, dudes, let’s rock!” Christopher shouted to the remnants of his strike force as the second angel fell to Kaym’s flaming sword. Fourteen of the warriors chosen by Kaym had fallen already, and there were only six left to accompany them to the Tenth Gate. He just hoped that six would be enough.
They ran as if Lord Michael himself were at their heels, pounding over the streets of gold like terrified horses. Beside him, Kaym blurred and shifted, tran
sforming into the shape of a fleet-footed gazelle.
“Change yourself!” he shouted at Christopher. “We must run faster!”
“I can’t! I don’t know how!”
“You don’t need to. Just feel the force of the power within you. Let it flow into you as you run. It will come to you if you stop fighting it!”
Christopher closed his eyes, picturing a horse in his mind and tried to feel the spark inside him. It was there, warm and pulsing, and he could sense that it was trying to expand. As his legs churned mechanically, he forced himself to relax, to give in to the fire’s inviting heat. At first it was uncomfortable, but it was not unbearable. It was kind of like jumping into a hot whirlpool after rolling in the snow. His skin burned at first, then itched, and soon the sensation was gone, replaced by a sense of ecstatic well-being.
“You did it!” Kaym shouted at him, and Christopher whinnied with triumph. He was a horse! How cool was that?
He looked down and saw flashing white hooves galloping over the hard metal of the streets, his unshod hooves beating out a fast tat-tat-tat-tat rhythm as they rushed towards the Gate.
Two angels stepped out to bar their way, but despite their drawn swords, neither Kaym nor Christopher hesitated for a moment. They charged recklessly towards the angels, and at the last moment, Christopher unthinkingly lowered his head.
There was a brief shock that staggered him, and the angel was gone, pierced through the heart by the sharp, twisted horn that had appeared on top of his head.
“A unicorn!” Kaym laughed savagely, clearly amused. He had transformed back into his Warrior aspect and run the other angel through with his sword. “Well done!”
The fallen angel suddenly unfurled a pair of giant black wings and rose into the air.
“We should be far enough from the fighting that we can fly without attracting too much attention now. Are you up to it?”
“Of course!”
Although the first transformation was tough, the second was much easier, and the pain and itching disappeared almost immediately. Flanked by three angels on either side, Christopher beat his wings furiously, hard on Kaym’s heels, determined to reach the Gate.
They were almost there when a hailstorm erupted without warning out of the clear blue sky. Bewildered, Christopher vainly tried to shield his head with his hands. It was a futile effort, though, as the pebble-sized chunks of ice smashed painfully into his arms and body.
“What’s going on?” he shouted to Kaym.
“I don’t know! I’ve never seen it storm like this in Heaven!”
Christopher grimaced. He’d been pelted by hail once before when he was a kid, and it wasn’t fun. Anything that could dent a car wasn’t something he wanted to hit his head. At least Kaym had a helmet.
“Isn’t that big thing up ahead the North Wall?”
“Just keep flying. It isn’t far now.”
But even as Kaym spoke, the hail stopped and a bolt of lightning arced through the sky, incinerating an angel behind him. The concussion of the following thunder sent a massive shockwave through the air that sent Christopher tumbling, hurtling wildly towards the ground.
“That didn’t come from above,” one of the angels shouted at him as he regained control of his wings.
“It’s behind us!” another screamed in fear.
“Everyone, down to the ground!” Kaym commanded. “We can’t fight a cherub in the air.”
Christopher was already nearly on the ground, having pulled out of his crazy tumble barely twenty feet above the shining streets of gold. This probably saved him, because no sooner had the little band of fallen angels begun diving for safety than a giant gust of wind came, catching the two highest-flying angels and sending them somersaulting madly through the sky. In moments, they were out of sight, their outspread wings helpless before the Great One’s mighty breath.
“We have to find cover!” Kaym yelled as his feet touched Heaven. “Run for that building over there.”
Christopher saw where the angel was pointing. Not a thousand yards away was a large building designed in the shape of a lion’s head. A broad series of marble steps led up to an arced double-door carved out of dark-grained wood. It was surrounded with a faint golden glow that Christopher didn’t like, but there was no time to argue. Christopher ran. At his heels were Kaym and the three remaining angels of their guard.
They didn’t make it. They were just reaching the steps when Kaym called out to them.
“Stop! It’s no good. We’ll have to fight here.”
Christopher was deeply tempted to keep running, but he fought down the cowardly urge, and turned to join the others.
What he saw nearly caused him to drop his sword in awe. The cherub was a gargantuan being, much bigger than the two he’d seen the night before. It was a glorious six-winged creature with a wingspan that was as long as a football field. It floated calmly before them, high in the air, all six wings spread out around a peaceful angel’s face. The cherub didn’t appear to be angry, it only looked a little bit sad, as if it regretted what it was about to do.
“Your presence here is forbidden,” it stated in a melodious voice. “The Lord Most High has named you exile and banned you from the Gates of Heaven.”
“Oh, shut up, Gonael,” Christopher was surprised at the familiarity in Kaym’s voice. “You know we weren’t exiled, we left of our own accord.”
“You know, we were just heading for the gate, actually,” Christopher added hopefully. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll just be on our way.”
“You shall not depart by the gate,” said Gonael, unamused. “Release your power, and I shall carry you Beyond on the wind of my breath.”
“And if we don’t?” asked one of the angels.
“Then I shall send you beyond the Beyond, cast out to join your brethren in the Outer Darkness.”
One of the angels made a move as if to step forward, and Kaym whispered to him behind clenched teeth.
“Don’t do it,” he threatened. “Or I’ll send you there myself!”
He raised both hands, and made a downward sweeping arc with his arms.
“Grab my hand!” he urged Christopher under his breath.
Christopher took it, and gasped as he felt Kaym draining energy away from him. His vision went red and faded momentarily, and when he recovered he was surprised to find himself still standing on his feet.
“Cursed one! I name you demon, destroyer, denied!” Christopher’s head was still spinning, but he understood that the cherub was furious at Kaym for whatever he’d just done. Come to think of it, he wasn’t too sure that he liked it either, as he tried to find his balance.
“Try me, Gonael,” Kaym challenged the Great One. “I am stronger than you think.”
The furious cherub formed its lips into a circle. It blew softly and effortlessly, and though its cheeks did not even bulge, the wind that issued forth from its mouth would have dwarfed even the deadliest hurricane. Howling and shrieking, the gale rushed down upon them, only to be deflected by the invisible shield of Kaym’s will.
For a long while the strange struggle persisted, Gonael blowing steadily and Kaym struggling to stand before its mighty breath. There was a moment when the shield weakened, and Christopher felt a warmly-scented breeze ruffle his hair, but Kaym fought back, drawing even deeper upon his own reserves and those of the spirits surrounding him. The breeze grew softer, and finally disappeared.
Christopher felt weak and staggered again as the draining suddenly stopped, and the angel on the other side of Kaym collapsed, then disappeared with a bang. As his vision cleared, he looked up and saw a look of stunned surprise on Gonael’s face. Surprise quickly turned to anger, and the middle pair of its wings transformed into muscular arms, each bearing a giant sword.
“The wicked shall not stand before the righteous. Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty!”
As the cherub’s words thundered through the sky, it furled its wings and dropped towards them like a stone, bo
th arms upraised to strike.
Yikes! As Christopher fumbled for his sword, Kaym and the two remaining angels leaped into the air to meet the onrushing giant. Kaym blocked one huge blade with his own peculiar sword, but the second slashed right through the other two Fallen, and they disappeared from Heaven with a wailing cry.
Finally managing to draw his blade, Christopher grimly spread his wings and jumped skyward. He swung his sword with all his might, using both hands, and he groaned with dismay as it bounced right off one white feathered wing. I’d sure hate to sleep on a feather pillow stuffed with those, he thought ironically as he struck again, but once more the blade bounced away with no effect.
Gonael was now using both swords in an attempt to overpower Kaym, who was being forced back towards the ground by the righteous fury of its assault. The fallen angel was desperately bobbing and weaving in the air, first ducking under one mighty swing, then deflecting another that imperiled his unarmored head.
“Do something!” he shouted at Christopher.
“Like what?”
Lacking any better ideas, he aimed for Gonael’s delicate face. He turned a backwards somersault in mid-air, then hurled himself upward with his blade pointed like a spear, coming up from below the cherub. But as he sped towards his target, a giant wing smashed into his side, a powerful buffet that took his breath away and drove him to the ground.
He managed to spread his wings enough to slow his fall and cushion what might have otherwise been a messy landing on the marble steps, but his weapon was gone. Frantic, he scrabbled on his hands and knees across the hard stone, trying to find his sword. It was nowhere to be found.
Dismayed, he looked up just in time to see Gonael strike Kaym, the huge blade catching one black-armored shoulder and knocking him off balance. Kaym’s helmet flew off, and he tumbled backward in a spinning arc that ended with a loud thud at the top of the steps, only a few cubits behind Christopher.
Christopher had no time to see if Kaym was still there, for the cherub had turned around and was now looking down at him. Its face was cold with anger as it raised one sword and pronounced a judgement upon him.