Thief

by Greg Curtis

  A sense of peace built up in him, allowing him the freedom to relax for the first time in too many months. He closed his eyes, and shut down the rest of his senses, the better to know the strange sights and sounds that began to assail him.

  It was like being in the darkest most comfortable place he could imagine and then hearing the soft soothing voices of loved ones, almost as though they were inside him. And he saw images too, images of faces, kindly loving faces. He smelled scents he’d not known since childhood, and relived pleasant memories.

  And all the while as he did this, he knew he wasn’t alone. He would never be alone again. Sherial was there with him, experiencing what he experienced, and passing on her love. As he saw through her, so she saw through him.

  The heavens somehow glowed around them, a magnificent blackness filled with love and glory. He saw without eyes, heard without ears and felt without skin. Yet its very nature was a paradox. For though he could see no light he sensed that he bathed in it. There was no heat yet he soaked in the warmth of it all. His ears heard nothing, but the void sang its beauty right through him. His mere human senses were in no way a match for this place.

  Mixed in among the universe, there were sparks of brightness, glowing like stars, communicating, rejoicing and loving. Slowly he understood that they were others present with them. Angels some of them he was sure, while many were completely different. He suspected there were titans present, their brightly burning life energy searing him with its heat. There were other beings too, totally different from anything he had ever imagined, perhaps even from what he could understand and yet all he saw were their souls. What their actual bodies looked like he couldn’t even begin to guess and wasn’t too sure he wanted to. Yet despite their differences, all were truly the same, bound together by their goodness and love.

  Swiftly it became too much for him, and he knew he could not survive much longer. He was far too small and weak, like a mouse at a human dinner party. Yet it was all he wanted. Only Sherial kept him apart he knew, protecting him from what was far too great for him, and he accepted her wisdom reluctantly. The mortal, business part of his mind told him that dead, he would not accomplish his ends, while his desire told him Sherial was where he wanted to be anyway. And so slowly he withdrew into her instead, using her strength as his own, as she wanted him to.

  He showed her his plan, in its fullest detail, though she knew much of it already, and through her others - many others - saw its complex yet simple nature. And they too understood what was required. Mikel felt their acceptance almost as though he was a teacher and his class had mastered the times tables. Through Sherial he felt many of them almost gasping mentally, wondering why they hadn’t seen something so simple, while others laughed at the simple poetry of it. Best of all he felt Sherial’s admiration of his plan and his mind, and he couldn’t help but flush with pride.

  But the minds of those others were far greater than his, and in a split second the class itself became their own teachers while he was left behind to wonder at their progress. Many of them took their own understandings out of what he had begun, their thoughts exploring the ramifications to the nth degree, far beyond his ability to follow. Beyond Sherial’s also. Some perhaps even beyond the titans’.

  He felt the lightning fast and yet delicate probes of their thoughts as they questioned his determination, and just possibly his sanity. His mind was an open book to them, yet it didn’t feel like an invasion. It felt more like family, concerned about their little brother, gathering around, asking questions and trying to help. Which, Sherial told him, was exactly what it was.

  Many of them began to act, though he suspected some of them decided on their own plans of attack, modifying his as simply too primitive. He didn’t mind that, finally understanding he could trust their judgement over his any day. Once that might have been intolerable, might have rankled, but in the last twenty four hours he had learned just how little he really knew, how foolish he could be and just how wise and good they were. If Sherial trusted their judgement, so did he.

  Better than anything else that day, he felt for the first time an acceptance by many of them that what they were doing was right. It was well and proper that this be tried. There was also a feeling that the plan could work, although none would have wagered money on it. Then again, none of them would wager at all. And their reluctant, grudging admission that there was perhaps a chance, a good chance that this would succeed, was more to him than he could have said. It gave him hope.

  It wasn’t all good news though.

  Through him Sherial too understood the plan more clearly, knew the dangers better, the ones he had specifically prepared for, and became afraid. Something no angel should ever be. He felt her fear for him, her fear that he might be killed or worse, and for the first time, he realized, she understood the concept of mortality. For Sherial was a young angel, not much older than himself, relatively speaking. And as an angel she was an immortal. Death in the human sense for her was not and never had been an option. One day she would simply move on, as and when the Lord decided. Yet she was in love with a mortal, for whom death was certain, was far too soon and in his case, never very far away.

  It was a bitter pill to swallow, and he tasted it with her. Death for him was something he had long ago accepted. A concept he even enjoyed, for the danger was what added spice to his life. He had never concerned himself with what came after, nor with even when it might come, soon or far. Only the fate of those he left behind really bothered him. And even that had mainly been a monetary matter. What would so many survive on without him?

  “One of these days”, he told her, “No matter what else happens, I’m going to die.” He told her it as gently as he could, finally understanding how serious a thing death could be. How terrible for those it left behind, and he cried with her as she had to accept his mortality. He didn’t want to leave her, ever. But his nature and hers meant there was no choice.

  She would be better off without him he thought, for as a mere human he could only bring her down. But he knew he didn’t have the strength to break it off with her, even if he had wanted to. Nor he knew, did she. Nor did they want to. It was merely something they had to live with. He simply had to make his time with her, however long or short, the best that he could.

  Others broke into their sorrow, for there should be no pain in heaven, and they tended for Sherial as she cried, while for him the universe went dark. He knew he was slipping into unconsciousness, his only remaining defence against the power and glory of the choir. And as the welcoming darkness enfolded him, he only asked for them to comfort Sherial.

  Hours later he awoke once more, lying on the cool green grass. How long had he lain there he wondered, feeling the warm sun beginning to set on his back? It had seemed like only minutes, but surely lasted nearly the entire day.

  He forced his cold, tired and stiff muscles to return to life, and dragged himself back to his knees, wondering at the unusual silence.

  Where were the others, he wondered? Had they too somehow been caught up in this tidal wave of emotion? Somehow he doubted it. Were they then still walking towards their rendezvous with their equipment? That too seemed unlikely. Surely the angels wouldn’t have left it more than a few miles away. Far more likely he decided, they were playing with it. Testing it out, seeing what damage they could do.

  Even as he thought it, a whoosh grabbed his attention, and he watched a witch shoot past on a broomstick, tailed closely by a space aged fighter plane. Distant yowls came to his ears and he knew more animals too had joined their cause. The joy as the others played was infectious, and rising he laughed out loud. For the first time in ages, things were actually going according to plan. He just hoped it was his.

  As he rose, beside him he found the artefacts. Mechanical things, mystical things, indescribable things, an entire junk shop of curios - all he knew, in some way brought to help him. These were the protective devices he had asked for. The products of hundreds, perhaps thousands of
worlds, each with their own distinct understanding of the universe. Some would hopefully protect him against the weapons of those worlds, weapons that the demons were sure to have and use. Others perhaps would help him to hide, while some might help him to open locked doors, or confuse. None were weapons, for angels didn’t believe in violence.

  He reached for the closest, a glowing sphere of light and found to his surprise it had no substance at all. It was just light. Even as he reached for it, it in turn seemed to reach for him, and in an instant he divined its purpose. It would protect him against particular types of weapons simply by being on his person. He accepted it gratefully, and in an instant it was gone, its light merging somehow with his own atoms.

  He reached for the next, an amulet of some sort, and grasped immediately that if he should wear it around his neck, it would grant him some form of invisibility, though whether to people or to detection devices he wasn’t sure.

  And so it went on. As he touched or even reached for any of the devices they in turn told him what they did, what they were, and he accepted them to him. In many cases he found he didn’t even have the concepts to understand what forces they used, what knowledge they were based on, but it wasn’t important. All he had to know was that they would protect him, or conceal him, the two things he had asked the angels for.

  He wondered idly, what other things some of the gifts might do, knowing that the gifts the host had brought him were based on their own advanced understanding of what he would face, an understanding greater than his own. But he also trusted them. He would find out, maybe, and it would all work out perfectly. The angels and the titans would have done a marvellous job.

  By the end of that time, night had fallen, and he found himself so weighed down by the assorted artefacts that he could barely stand. Sherial was still distant, lost in her pain, and once more he sent her his love and a message of hope. But he wouldn’t intrude on her grief, knowing sadly it was for her to come to terms with. He could not help her, though it hurt him to admit it. He could only love her, and hope.

  Standing, he discovered the workshop, his workshop, a mere twenty or so meters behind him, and staggered towards it. But instead of being an underground complex, his workshop was now above ground, though an awful lot of the earth surrounding them had come with them, to make up the walls and ceilings. He had visions of his home, or at least his gardens and gym collapsing into a giant crater left by their removal, though somehow he suspected the titan would have thought of that. He hoped so.

  Walking in through a doorway, which an underground tunnel would have led to had he been in his own home, he reached instinctively for the light switch and in surprise found it working. Electric light filled the room, illuminating his benches and piles of equipment. How Atal had achieved that minor miracle he had no idea, but he didn’t care. He was grateful.

  Briefly he was overwhelmed by the sense of the familiar as he surveyed his main workshop. Everything was exactly as he remembered it, exactly as he had left it so many months before. It was a part of his home, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to simply sink into his chair and pretend that nothing outside this room existed. But only for a moment. For in a very real way he understood he had always been home. His home was his work wherever that might be, and he had work to do.

  If there was light then there was surely also power he guessed, and even as the thought crossed his mind he powered up the computer. Sure enough, he had his entire network there with him, and its thousand and one databases and libraries lay at his fingertips. Here he had the facilities to make use of these gifts. To turn them into the tools of his trade. For that was what he did best, taking other people’s technologies and using them for his own ends.

  He flexed his hands, cracking the knuckles loudly in the quiet night. It was, he realized, going to be a long night. Probably a long week. A week such as a thief like him could only dream of.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  “The Angels were all singing out of tune,

  And hoarse with having little else to do,

  Excepting to wind up the sun and moon

  Or curb a runaway young star or two.”

  ~Lord Byron

  It was like an electrical storm raging through his body, bolts of lightning firing randomly in all directions, and yet despite the chaos, noise and confusion there was also a certain order there. As though each and every lightning strike was in harmony with everything else. Mostly. He watched rather than felt it.

  “Watch and feel.” Abrax was talking to him, mind to mind through Sherial and Sabrina, the big lug’s own guardian angel, and he knew both of them were streets ahead of him in understanding the wild man. But he did as he was told, trusting in their knowledge and goodness.

  He watched the show, trying to understand. The lightening blasts must have been his nerve impulses, travelling to and from his muscles, yet he saw nothing that looked like a cell, or anything else his biology teachers had ever told him of. Instead, they were simply blasts of pure energy, running through a diffuse pinkness, - his flesh?

  “Iss strong, no. Iss basics of life.” Instinctively he felt the wrongness of that statement, and through Sherial knew that she questioned it too. Abrax too was making again the same mistakes he and the others had, believing that the knowledge of the created could match the creator. This was the basics of biological life, not life in the sense of souls. He said nothing knowing Sabrina would doubtless explain that to the big lug. Then again, perhaps he was underestimating him. Abrax too had thrown off the brand with the others. In doing so he too had surely learned even if his language skills hadn’t improved.

  “Start at start. First must see shape of life. Learn shape, then smooth it.” Even as Abrax told him what he had to look for, he saw it, or perhaps Sherial did. Either way he understood the shape of the energy flows. And yet it wasn’t a true shape. It was more a system of corridors down which the lightening flared. Most of the bolts seemed to move in distinct pathways, like cars on roads, and yet here and there the odd bolt seemed to cross the median strip, launching into oncoming traffic or out into the unknown. Neuronal misfires? Could neurons even misfire? He put the questions out of his mind, and concentrated.

  Even as he concentrated on a particular flow, it seemed to strengthen, though he in no way seemed to either touch or direct it. It was more as though the energy blasts themselves felt his awareness of them and made sure they didn’t put a foot wrong.

  “Are you doing that?” He asked Sherial, and yet he knew that she wasn’t, not really. Nor was he. It was instead both of them, somehow working in harmony, neither knowing where one began and the other ended, and neither one caring.

  They concentrated on one flow after another, watching them change from a rush hour stampeded of confused cattle, to a more orderly progression of motorists. It was fascinating to watch, and Mikel lost all awareness of time.

  Here and there they came across a kink in the flow, a right angle in a road that couldn’t be crossed except very slowly. Yet even as they found them the energy streams changed before their eyes, quickly becoming smooth curves, allowing the flow to move once more. Pinched nerves?

  At last it was done, and he could feel the entire motorway system pulsing smoothly, for perhaps the first time in his entire life, no traffic jams and snarl ups holding anything back.

  “Iss clear, no? Must do daily. In time be normal.”

  “Am I stronger now?” He didn’t feel any different, and somehow he couldn’t believe it could be as simple as that.

  “Little. Did well. Must build new flows. Takes time. Need eat well, rest well, concentrate. Always.” And on that note the session abruptly ended.

  Mikel came too to find himself lying on the soft grass, alone. Behind him he heard noises and knew Abrax was already up and waiting for him. He obliged, rising to his feet and was surprised at how smoothly he did so. Normally there would be aches and pains, stiffness and the inevitable brief loss of balance as he swayed a little. This time t
here was none of that. He didn’t really feel stronger, just better coordinated. But he accepted it with good grace, guessing it would take many years to use all of Abrax’s knowledge.

  “Now try bars.”

  Mikel did as he was told, beginning with the parallel bars he’d built out of tree branches. Rising quickly to his starting position he suddenly found himself grabbed. Before he could even act a burning sensation opened up all along the outsides of his arms as he balanced on them. It was like having a knife run all the way down the long muscles.

  Looking down he saw Abrax was using a small stick no larger than a pencil, with a rounded end. He was pushing that end in hard, running the length of his long muscles. Had Abrax been merely a normal man it would have hurt, but he was using his own incredible strength, pushing each and every muscle fibre until it reached the very extremity of its breaking point. Pain did not go far enough to describe what he experienced.

  Mikel wasn’t given time to react. Sherial was with him even as he started to get mad, telling him this was all a part of it, the strengthening. Immediately he shelved his anger knowing she was right, and that even if she hadn’t been he would have obeyed her wishes anyway. Two more lines of pain were drawn along his body, this time along the abdominals, running from his ribs to his groin. And then more traceries across them. Dimly he realized Abrax was tracing the lines of his muscles, running their full length, making sure that not a single millimetre was left unscathed.