The God of Battles
Page 1
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
A Conversation
A Warrior’s Nightmare
War in Heaven: Bald Eagle
Brooklyn Basin Mental Health, Oakland, CA
Cashier
At Day’s End
To Dance at Death’s Door
War in Heaven: The Flux
Something New, Something Old
Meeting Strangers
War in Heaven: Root Hexagon
Nadia’s House
War in Heaven: Serpent Lion and Dark Eyes
Love and Strife
War in Heaven: The Lion’s Roar
The Long Arm of War
War in Heaven: Diamond Angel
Will’s Way
Coincidences
War in Heaven: Traps
Bitterness
Strange Journeys
War in Heaven: Progenitor
The Healer at Bay
War in Heaven: Isolation
The Warrior Prays
War in Heaven: The Prayer
Shattered Glass
Sailing
At Dock
The Medium
War in Heaven: Another Attack
The Neighbors
Nightmare’s Cost
War in Heaven: Renewed Strength
Delegation
A Dark Dream
Haunted by the Past
War in Heaven: Individuation
A Reunion
War in Heaven: Reconstruction
The Meme
War in Heaven: A New Angel
Brief Success
War in Heaven: Iron Star Attacks
Vengeance is Mine
War in Heaven: Prescription Delivers
The Overworld
War in Heaven: Retaliation
An Angel Goes to War
War in Heaven: The War Leader
War’s Aftermath
War in Heaven: Diamond Angel Returns
The Convocation
War in Heaven: Communion
You Can’t Fight, City Hall
War in Heaven: Extradition
War in Heaven; Execution
War in Heaven: Weapons Lost
Friends, Enemies
War in Heaven: Unsupported Action
In her Meadow
War in Heaven: Angel and Goddess
Questions
War in Heaven: Spies go Forth
The Wise Old Woman
War in Heaven: Overture
Love Keeps Watch
War in Heaven: Undivided
There’s Only Us
Enlightenment
War in Heaven: Flying Unto War
Looking for Love
War in Heaven: Dark Eyes Loses
Serpent Lion
The Girl
War in Heaven: Deconstruction
Lost
Assumption
War in Heaven: A Treaty
Peace
War in Heaven: A Conversation
About the Author
David Menefee
Sophic Arts
2015
Copyright © 2015 by David Menefee
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Clarissa Yeo / Yocla Designs
Content editing by Jessica Anderegg / Red Adept Editing
Line Editing by Sarah Carleton / Red Adept Editing.
Printed in the United States of America
EBook Edition: 2015
Sophic Arts
PO Box 1183
Hayfork, CA 96041
www.SophicArts.com
U.S. trade bookstores and wholesalers:
Please contact Sophic Arts Tel: (530) 628-6363 or email info@sophicarts.com
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to Sekhmet,
Sacred Partner
Beloved Soul of Re
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, this book would never have been written without the gracious and loving support of my partner Rachel. She patiently performed the first corrections as an alpha reader, night after night, for over a month. Thank you, beloved. My other alpha reader, David, provided much-needed encouragement and advice on this story, and it is the better for it. My study group friends, Judy, Tanya and Kate, cheered me on and helped me with important philosophical elements, including the idea of “meme angels.” My faithful readers, having completed The Soul Thief, kept asking me when the second book would come out, and this spurred me on through the harder patches. Thank you all! Finally, I would never have considered publishing this book without the ever-patient work by my editors, Jessica Anderegg and Sarah Carleton, and my proofreader, Virge Buck, all from Red Adept Publishing. A deep bow of gratitude to you and to Lynn McNamee..
A CONVERSATION
War: Beloved, come rest with me and behold my greatest work. I have conquered the Heavens with my strong right arm and would lay them at your feet as a bridal gift.
Love: I would that you come to me instead and lay down your Sword and Spear. As for wedding me, my Lord, that must not be. For we hold the worlds within our hands, and to become one in spirit would be to return those realms to the Light from whence they came.
War: Would you challenge me, then? The winner may claim his heart’s desire.
Love: Or hers.
CHAPTER ONE
A Warrior’s Nightmare
The Rubaiyat of Iron Star
A Child of War despising strife,
A bitter foe of poisoned knife,
Is bound to bitter stink of death
That plunders him of joyous life.
Checkpoint 4, Baghdad, Iraq, 012134CJUN14
“Mom sent chocolate.” Simon grinned at the other man, Sam—or was it Bill?—and shivered in the night breeze.
“Oh, man.” His buddy chuckled.
“Yeah. It squirted when I opened it. But ya gotta love her for trying.” Simon had received his birthday gift a month late, and Iraq’s merciless summer heat had reduced the gourmet dark-chocolate bar to a softened blob.
Bill—Sam?—straightened and stared down the road. Simon peered in that direction and, seeing headlights, assumed a ready stance. As the lights neared, both men readied their M16A4s. The other soldiers stationed at the checkpoint followed suit as they prepared for the tenth vehicular stop that night.
The loudspeaker crackled. “Stop your vehicle!”
The amplified voice cut the night air. Simon glanced at his buddy and nodded, raising his weapon to ready position. The oncoming headlights, resembling those of a passenger car, were not slowing. Several other Marines began to wave high-powered flashlights at it, signaling it to stop.
“I repeat, stop your vehicle, or we’ll open fire.”
The car accelerated with a roar. Simon felt himself tense as he lifted the rifle to take aim. Suddenly, his mind swam with vertigo, and he blinked, shaking his head. Something was wrong with the situation. Was it the strange glowing red clouds in the sky? Or maybe the fact that Simon could not recognize anyone else at the checkpoint, not even his buddy? As his finger began to squeeze, the realization struck him and took his breath away.
This was the nightmare again. His mind clear within the dream, Simon pulled his finger away fr
om the trigger guard and lowered the weapon. “No. Not this time. I’m not gonna kill them again.” No one else noticed as they were all intent on the oncoming vehicle.
He set the rifle down. All movement slowed to a crawl, including the car, and he walked away from the checkpoint into what had become featureless darkness beyond. His shoulders relaxed, and he sighed. It was just a nightmare; he had succeeded in escaping it, and he would wake up in a moment.
“Halt, soldier!”
Simon froze automatically, his hands going up. Then, realizing his error, he crouched, ready to fight. A group of Marines was running to intercept him, spreading out to cut off his escape. Behind them was a much larger man dressed in a general’s uniform. All that was visible of his shadowy face was a pair of glowing eyes.
Simon dove toward an opening. The soldiers intercepted him easily and hauled him toward General Iron Star. Iron Star? Why did Simon know the giant man’s name and no one else’s?
“Back to work.” Iron Star spoke in a grating, repulsive voice. He gestured to Simon’s station, and the soldiers dragged him to where his rifle lay on the ground. The car was about ten yards from the checkpoint, clouds of dust hanging suspended in the air behind it.
“No. Please. Not again,” Simon sobbed.
One of the soldiers thrust the rifle into Simon’s hands while another held him fast in an iron grip. Iron Star reached over with a massive hand and shoved the rifle into aiming position against Simon’s cheek. His tear-blurred vision swam with images of the dead woman and her two children, killed when the soldiers had opened fire on the onrushing car five years ago. He clenched his eyes shut and screamed as the gun bucked in his hands.
CHAPTER TWO
War in Heaven: Bald Eagle
Root Hexagon, Bald Eagle
“So, you think you are able to resist,” Iron Star muttered. “That is not permitted.” His hands clasped behind his back, he stood at the lip of a pool of steaming yellow coolant and gazed into the gigantic crystal resting in its center. Faces of warriors of all ages and from all places, embroiled in nightmarish battle scenes, appeared and vanished in its facets. He exerted his will, causing the crystal to show just one of those faces. It was that of an agonized soldier, eyes closed, screaming as his rifle kicked in his arms. One of the power cables that festooned the great artifact crackled at the surge of power from the nightmare, and Iron Star smiled with grim satisfaction.
He turned to one of the guardian angels who was stationed there. “I must report to my master. For now, I will leave my projected image in place within the Root Hexagon. It should be able to respond to minor fluctuations. If you see any signs of major power loss again, let me know immediately.”
The angel snapped a salute. “Yes, sir.”
Iron Star left the side of the pool and crossed the rubble-strewn floor of the Great Crater. As he climbed the sloping wall, he glanced up. Great red clouds swept across the sky, forming a dramatic backdrop to the semiorganic structures of Bald Eagle’s skyline beyond the rim of the crater. Iron Star would have rather been on the front lines, managing the war with Silver Scimitar, but his master, the great Egregore Bald Eagle, expected a report on this most recent power loss.
CHAPTER THREE
Brooklyn Basin Mental Health, Oakland, CA
Dr. Angela Cooper wrinkled her nose. The smell of paint lingered in her office, despite two months of opened windows. She leaned forward over her desk in the creaky swiveling chair and handed a folder to her partner, Dr. Eric Weiser.
“The clinic is finally approved to accept VA patients.”
“Cool.” Eric straightened from his slouch in the chair opposite her.
She continued. “Well, I’m approved, anyway. We need to send you to training next month to get you certified. Unfortunately, it’s not going to be cheap, but we’ve got enough budgeted for it if everything goes according to schedule.”
Eric flipped the folder open and riffled through the colorful brochures, his forehead creased with concern. He ran a hand across his shock of platinum-blond hair. “So what’s up with the funding?”
“It’s coming in really slowly. Money always does.” Angela stifled a yawn. Sometimes it seemed that business offices were designed to drain their occupants of all energy and enthusiasm. “I need you to do me a favor and meet with the Department of Mental Health office to clear up some questions they have. Seems that last year’s incident at the hospital got their attention.”
Eric lifted an eyebrow. “Took them long enough. I assume we’re ready for their questions.”
Angela nodded. “Yup. I told them we would pull those files and take them with us to the meeting.” She sighed and tapped her tablet with a finger, ticking off an item on the to-do list. “The next step is to get community buy-in. We’re meeting with City Council in a week. It’s mental health awareness month, so I’m going to capitalize on that.”
The office phone warbled, and Angela picked it up. “Brooklyn Basin Mental Health, Dr. Cooper.”
“Hi, Angela.”
She recognized the light, pleasant voice. “Oh. Hi, Hector. We were just discussing the meeting.”
“Good. Can you bring those materials we talked about?”
“Eric will be there with the records. I’ve got a prior commitment and can’t make it.”
“That’s fine. I don’t think there’ll be any problem securing your funds.”
“That’s good to hear.” Angela gave Eric a thumbs-up, and he grinned.
“Have you had any luck finding staff?”
“It’s been a little slow, but I think we’ll be fully staffed by August. I’ve got some excellent resumes on my desk.” She glanced at the stack of hard-won folders on her desk.
“That’s fast work. Sounds like you’ll be ready for business soon.”
“True, but don’t forget that we still need that funding.”
“I won’t forget. Listen, I’ve got to run. Tell Eric we’re looking forward to seeing him at the meeting.”
“Okay, I’ll let him know. Thanks.”
She hung up and grinned at Eric. “Hector Jameson at the Sacramento office thinks we’ll have no trouble getting funding.”
“That’s great news!” He got up to leave. On his way out, Eric placed a hand on the doorjamb and grinned at Angela. “This calls for a celebration. How about Beer and Far? They’ve got a Czech pilsner on draft that’s to die for.”
Angela shook her head. “I wish I could. Cassie and I are heading over to Nadia’s after work. But after that, we’re hitting the Rings. We’ll see you there.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Cashier
There was no better place for people watching than NutriMart in Berkeley, Cassandra decided. You’d see hipsters trolling the produce aisle for hookups, neo-hippies browsing the supplements for quick fixes, and glassy-eyed students stumbling through the selection of international beers for that night’s pants party.
“That’ll be sixty-three dollars and forty-two cents.” She waited for the customer to swipe her card and key in a PIN. Cassandra tore off the enormous receipt and handed it to her with a plastic smile. “Have a good day.”
The woman nodded her thanks and disappeared into the river of outgoing shoppers. As Cassandra looked at the next person in checkout, a babble of voices arose. It sounded like an argument. She scanned the crowd for trouble, but then she realized that the voices were in her own head.
She winced as a twinge of pain shot across her forehead. She reached into her pocket and pinched her index finger and thumb together in a gesture that Angela had taught her. The voices immediately died away, along with the pain, and she relaxed and began checking the next customer.
“Hey Cassie, need a break?”
She jumped and turned her head. Jeremy must have come over while she was dealing with the voices. Cassandra rolled her eyes.
“Hell, yeah. Thanks.” She realized she was swearing in front of customers and touched her fingers to her lips. “Sorry.”
T
hey switched places awkwardly, Jeremy squeezing his bulk past her, and then Cassandra eeled her way through the crush toward the stairs up to the employee break room. On the way, she waved to a fellow cashier. “Janet! Are you going to the Rings tonight?”
Janet glanced at Cassandra as she swept an item through the scanner. “Yeah. About eight thirty.”
“Awesome. Angela’s going too.”
“Angela? Rad. See you guys there.”
Cassandra grinned. Janet reminded her of some of the friends she had made when she was much younger, when she and her family had gone on extended vacations all over the country. A slim, dreadlocked blonde with a nose ring, she was a little bit of a rebel and someone you could count on when you were in a fix.
Cassandra pressed on through the crowd until she got to the stairwell. Whistling a tune from one of her favorite electronica bands, Cassandra ran up the stairs two at a time and went into the break room. Both computer stations were occupied, so she poured herself a cup of sludgy brew and leaned on the counter to wait.
One of the computer users, Rhonda, a thin young woman with small eyes and mousy brown hair, looked up at her. “Hey, Cassie. I’m almost done. I heard the boss wants to talk to you about something.”
In Cassandra’s limited experience, a word from the boss usually meant trouble. “Oh, fuck. What about?”
Rhonda clicked the mouse, logged off of Facebook, and got up. “The usual. Your team leader came in earlier. He said something, and I heard your name. Then Janelle said something about calling you up to the office.”
Cassandra sipped her coffee and grimaced at the bitterness. “I hope this won’t take long. I’m going out tonight.” She sat down at the computer Rhonda had just vacated.
“I think you’ll hear from her tomorrow. She doesn’t usually go for afternoon meetings with employees. So, where’re you going?”
“The Rings.”