The God of Battles

by David Menefee

  “I don’t know. Maybe so. She has met my oversoul. Did she tell you about the oversouls?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I might be able to send her a message if she meets my oversoul. And she might be able to pass something back to me. We chovihanis are trained to talk with our oversouls, you know. They give us knowledge, visions, and power.”

  “Okay.” Enough sales talk, Nadia. She racked her brain for ideas. Come home, Angela? No. If Angela was on a mission, she would need help, not a needy girlfriend. Cassandra covered the mouthpiece. Simon was watching anxiously.

  “Simon,” she said. “Angela is fighting on the other side. Nadia might be able to reach her. What can we do to help on this end? You know about that stuff.”

  “Intel. She needs to know the bigger picture. If you’re right, and what she does is reflected here, she could use info from this world.”

  Cassandra nodded. That made sense. She uncovered the mouthpiece. “She needs to know what’s happening here. Do you know Eric?”

  “We’ve met.”

  Even now, Cassandra could hear the disapproval in Nadia’s voice. The biddy could be so old-fashioned. “Can you call him, please? He’s watching the news for clues. Whatever Angela’s doing is going to show up in the news. It’ll also show if there’s something sneaking up on her, I think. If he can pass that on to you, you can send that to Angela.”

  “I can do that.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  War in Heaven: Overture

  Home of Nadia’s Oversoul, Just Below the Overworld

  Nadia’s oversoul mused as she sat in her overstuffed chair on the grass outside her brightly painted Romani vardo. She considered what she knew of the Overworld, and her orderly, crystalline mind turned over the knowledge and experience she had gathered. Her friend, now known as Diamond Angel, may have become lost in that place, but without intervention, Nadia’s oversoul was unlikely to be able to rescue that ancient entity.

  Though she had no conventional sight, this was of no matter to an oversoul, and she stared with her penetrating insight into the campfire, seeking wisdom. She gradually became aware of the presence of someone of power to her left and turned her sightless gaze in that direction. Dark Eyes emerged from the dense woods surrounding Nadia’s oversoul, and her strength faltered in his presence.

  “My lord? I didn’t hear you arrive, or I would have greeted you more courteously.”

  He approached the fire, raising his hands to warm them. “So gracious. I like that about you.” He looked sidelong at her. “I need something from you.”

  She rose from her chair unsteadily, staring at him, drinking in his beauty. “Whatever you wish, my lord. I serve you now, as I have served you before.”

  He gestured to the fire. An image of Angela appeared in it. Above it hovered the form of Diamond Angel, flickering in the smoke that rose from the fire. He pointed to Diamond Angel. “This one has fallen under the spell of the enemy, Bald Eagle. She is now our greatest enemy. Yet… Angela rebels against the wishes of Diamond Angel.”

  Nadia’s oversoul gasped.

  He continued, ignoring her distress. “I will send you to Angela as she has now entered the realm of Bald Eagle and needs your guidance.”

  Nadia’s oversoul immediately turned and hobbled to the vardo. After rummaging in a pile of items near the hitch, she dragged out her walking staff and returned to stand by Dark Eyes. “I am ready.”

  “She must be reminded of who she is.” Dark Eyes gestured toward the darkness, and another man, resembling Dark Eyes but of lesser power, strode forth to stand near her. The newcomer was weaponless. “This one must be given to our friend. He bears a message that she will need, but he must go in disguise to the seat of our enemy’s power.”

  With that pronouncement, the newcomer’s body blurred at the edges then contracted until he seemed to vanish. A small stone rested on the ground where he had stood. Nadia’s oversoul stooped and retrieved the transformed angel. She muttered over it, adding messages of her own before hiding it within the folds of her shawl.

  Dark Eyes faced the fire and raised his hands. The earth rumbled as he gathered power. The flames roared high into the sky, and a vortex formed in their midst. Nadia’s oversoul walked confidently into the portal.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  Love Keeps Watch

  Then word is sent to Angel bright

  That mortal feet have scaled the height;

  ’Twas preordained her self and Self

  Will prematurely reunite.

  Eric sat on the edge of what he called his “entertain me” chair, his eyes on the huge flat-screen television. The president stood before Congress. His lips were moving, silently, his head turning left then right.

  Eric held his phone to his ear as he watched the news report. “Nadia, I don’t know if you’re watching the news.”

  “No. My TV doesn’t work anymore.”

  “Well, it looks like we’re going to war.”

  She gasped. “No!”

  “Yeah. Congress is… let’s see.” He turned up the sound and listened briefly. “The president called an emergency session to ask for a declaration of war. Looks like both parties are in agreement on this.”

  “Eric, I know you’ll find this hard to believe.” Nadia sighed. “It’s all connected with something Angela is doing. So, it’s very important for you to give me the details so I can pass them on.”

  He stood up and absentmindedly ran his hand over his shock of platinum-blond hair. “Actually, I believe you. Ever since we fought, I’ve felt something. Like the air is rumbling. I went to get some takeout, and there was fighting everywhere I looked. I can’t explain it.”

  “Tell me what’s on the news.”

  “Okay.” He went to the sideboard to refill his wine. “Apparently the terrorist group, the ISIL, has acquired biological weapons and is threatening to use them on European and American targets. So, the president is calling for a formal declaration of war.”

  “How soon?”

  “It could even happen tonight.” Eric shivered. “It’s like the whole world has accelerated toward doomsday.”

  The line was silent for a moment. When Nadia spoke again, her voice cracked wearily. “I’ve got news for you, too. The muskers—I mean, the cops—they’re rounding up Roma all over the place, and there have been riots. I think I understand why now. You and your gay friends might want to watch out.”

  “My God. Okay, I’ll spread the word. Is Angela going to be okay?”

  “I wish I knew. All I can do right now is pass on a message.”

  He set his wine down and massaged his temples. Angela had been secretive for as long as he had known her, so it was not surprising that she was out of reach. But that did not stop him from worrying. “While you’re passing messages, please tell her I love her and to be careful. And tell her I wish she’d call me.”

  “I will do what I can. When she can, I’m sure she’ll call you. Please call me if you learn anything new.”

  They said their goodbyes and hung up. Staring at the images of newscasters imploring, describing, being aghast, he thought about what Angela might say. She would probably talk about the overall societal tension and how everyone would benefit from hypnotherapy. He smiled a little at that, but then his heart sank as he thought about their fight.

  “Angela? Be careful,” he muttered.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  War in Heaven: Undivided

  Diamond Angel’s Palace, Bald Eagle

  A semicircle of warrior-angel battalion leaders was arrayed before Diamond Angel’s throne. Each of them blurred momentarily as it traveled to the front to gather information. One of the angels suddenly doubled over and vanished. Another angel took its place. The commander of these battalions stood by her side.

  “Report.” Diamond Angel stared abstractedly at the commander.

  “Shaken Fist has subverted two battalions of our own troops,” he replied. “It appears that they are mimicking
one of our consolidator weapons quite effectively.”

  She gestured peremptorily at a flickering, multidimensional map hanging, unsupported, in the air above the center of the room. “Send a new squad to this location. Shaken Fist has not repaired that vulnerability. It might be old, but it’s still valuable to us.”

  The angel blurred into an indistinct, vaguely humanoid blob as he carried out her order.

  “We cannot spare the forces to assist Lion or Rooster,” she continued. “However, I do not wish to lose contact with them. Double our communication links, and deploy two more of the older squads. The Communist Scare is going to serve once again.”

  Two more angel commanders blurred, each acquiring a rainbow aura tinged with red. Then their forms stabilized once again. Another angel entered the room and halted respectfully outside the circle.

  Diamond Angel signaled to the new arrival. “Security chief. Report.”

  It saluted. “The security at the Root Hexagon has been breached, ma’am. We have deployed troops to investigate.”

  She lifted a hand to her chest for a moment. The underworld creature had arrived. “Let it be done,” Diamond Angel muttered.

  She focused her full attention on her security chief. “When you find interlopers of unknown provenance, bring them to me unharmed. Destroy only confirmed spies from one of our enemies.”

  The chief saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  It turned smartly and left the room. Diamond Angel returned her attention to her underlings. “Commanders, I will require time alone. You have your battle orders. Execute them, and await further orders.”

  They saluted and vanished. Diamond Angel leaned, placing an elbow on an arm of her throne, and rested her chin in her hand.

  War on Earth

  “Our new allies will help us penetrate their defenses. They have…”

  —

  “They’ve got better understanding of the enemy. That’s…”

  —

  “You can beat them. Not by being afraid of them…”

  —

  “With the new threat level, intelligence confirms…”

  —

  “Knowledge is better than ignorance.”

  —

  “We need to win, no matter…”

  —

  “Even if it means we…”

  —

  “We’re becoming more…”

  —

  “We’re like them.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  There’s Only Us

  Root Hexagon, Bald Eagle

  The soldiers escorted Angela as she climbed up the sloping wall of the Root Hexagon crater. She slipped a little on the rough scree. As she went, she surreptitiously studied her captors. They were bizarre in appearance and dress and, though winged, bore no resemblance to the angels depicted on earth. The majority of them looked like exaggerated versions of what she, in an uncharitable mood, would have called rednecks. They were all male, for one, with square faces, buzz cuts, and blotchy, sunburned skin. But beyond their physical appearance was an aura that conveyed the impression of racist ignorance.

  Arriving at the crater’s edge, she gaped. Something like a vast city sprawled to the horizon, but as she stared, she realized that the “buildings” were actually abstract solid forms: cubes, tetrahedrons, spheres, and more elaborate, organic-looking shapes. The colors red, white, and blue predominated, patterned in stripes and stars as well as more exotic forms. The buildings strongly resembled what would happen if an American flag were draped over every part of the architecture. If this were truly a world of memes, the materials used to build this city could have come from that flag.

  Corporate logos decorated many of the surfaces, as well, jarring in their incongruity. It was nearly impossible to judge the size of the shapes as there was nothing familiar to compare them with. Everything appeared to be in motion out of the corner of the eye, but the solid forms were stable when stared at directly. She sniffed the air cautiously. The stench of the crater was gone, replaced by a pervasive aroma of fried food, slightly nauseating. The place had a nagging, pervasive sense of wrongness.

  Angela and her escort clambered over the lip of the crater. They descended the shallower exterior and proceeded along a street toward a large, extremely ornate building. The three flag colors were everywhere, wound into dizzying patterns that seemed to twist beyond the normal three dimensions.

  As she marched, it was almost as if Angela were watching herself in a movie. A peculiar sensation of continuous déjà vu nagged at her, as if time itself were unstable. This reminded her of some of the sensations she had experienced when the Soul Thief had taken her soul. The surrealism of the place was getting on her nerves.

  Alongside her, a much taller person whom she believed was the commander of the “angels” watched the sky as they walked. She glanced at the soldier. “You still didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

  He returned her look impassively then resumed scanning the sky. “Ma’am. We are your honor guard, assigned to you by Bald Eagle. Ma’am.”

  “I don’t have an honor guard,” she snapped. “What is this place, anyway?”

  “Bald Eagle, ma’am.”

  “I thought Bald Eagle was a person.” She gestured all around her. “This looks like a city.”

  The soldier stared at her, and his steps faltered. “Bald Eagle is not a city. It is our master. Your master. Ma’am.”

  Angela heard a vast sound as if a giant were sighing. She looked all around for its source as her déjà vu intensified. Then she realized what had been bothering her about the “city,” and her stomach lurched.

  “This place…” She gestured all around her with a shaking hand. “It’s alive. And its name is Bald Eagle.”

  She stopped walking, and the commander and his contingent paused. She took a deep breath, planted her fists on her hips, and stared up at him. “What’s your name?”

  He saluted. “Ma’am. My name is Sergeant Texas Tea, ma’am.”

  She choked back laughter. “Texas Tea? What kind of ridiculous name is that?”

  “Ma’am?” The expression on his face was solicitous rather than offended.

  “Never mind.” She refocused her mind on the immediate questions at hand. “Where are we going?”

  “I am bringing you to the War Leader.” Then the sergeant’s head lifted, and he snapped a hand up. The troops went on alert, raising baroque weapons or bare hands that crawled with electrical fire.

  A muttering, grumbling voice became audible, coming from a short distance ahead. Around a corner shuffled a robed and cowled figure, and Angela took a sharp breath. Nadia’s oversoul? Here? Angela’s legs were weak with absurd relief.

  The soldiers aimed their weapons, and Angela panicked. “No! Don’t fire!”

  The sergeant raised his hand again, halting them, though not all lowered their weapons. As the woman neared, Angela noticed the pale fire flickering on her body.

  Nadia’s oversoul halted, prevented from coming nearer by Angela’s escort. She cackled. “Such handsome boys. Such brave boys. And I am an old woman, making you afraid.” She peered intently at the sergeant. “Creature. It would be wise of you to stand aside.”

  Sergeant Tea stared at her, indecision flickering over his face, and Angela could almost hear him weighing the question of whether to attack or not. Angela gestured for him to make way. He stepped aside. The oversoul approached Angela and, from within the folds of her garment, took out a small, rough stone and held it in the palm of her hand.

  “What’s this?” Angela swayed on her feet with sudden vertigo.

  “Take it, dear. Hold it in your hand, and think of your friends.”

  Angela accepted the stone and clenched it in her right fist. She visualized Cassandra bending over the couch. Was Angela’s body here or lying cold and still at Simon’s place?

  Then images flashed into her mind. Nadia had sent them to Angela through the stone, passing on what was happening on earth. The
visions unfolded like vivid memories: Cassandra sat nearby, watching over Angela. Scenes of war in the Middle East scrolled by followed by rioting in Oakland. Police raided members of the gay community as well as Roma.

  Finally, a singsong phrase leaped into her consciousness. Turn, turn, turn away. I will never go astray.

  The stone crumbled into sand in her hand. She dusted off her palm and stared at nothing, caught by old, warm memories of her childhood amongst the Roma. Those reminiscences provided a surge of strength she had not realized she needed. She smiled at the old woman.

  “Nadia? That was brilliant.”

  The woman chuckled. “I am Nadia’s oversoul. Now that I’m here…” She peered with sightless eyes all around, brandishing a gap-toothed grin at the soldiers. She cackled and fixed Angela with that blind, disconcerting stare. “I’ve got a new name. You can call me Crooked Staff.”

  She poked Angela’s sternum with a gnarled finger. “Someone’s waiting for you, dear. Best to move along.” Her body fuzzed at the edges then shrank as if she were retreating down a long tunnel. She vanished.

  Angela noticed that another soldier was conferring with the sergeant.

  Sergeant Tea turned to her. “Ma’am.” His voice was brusque, his expression grim. “Intel reports that she’s a spy from Dark Eyes. Bald Eagle has ordered that she be destroyed. Ma’am.”

  Angela glared at him. “You hurt her, and you die.”

  He bristled but then saluted. “Ma’am. The War Leader is waiting.”

  Entrance to Diamond Angel’s Palace, Bald Eagle

  Angela and the honor guard approached the ornate entrance to the huge building at the end of the street. Angela’s eyes ached when she tried to examine the carvings surrounding the doorway. They swam in and out of focus, but she found that if she relaxed and stopped trying to look closely at them, they stabilized, although something or someone was preventing her from interpreting those markings.