by S. L. Duncan
Afarôt walked to the top of the steps to meet the man in black. “Prepare yourself,” he whispered as he passed by Gabe.
“How?” Gabe asked, nearly in shock.
“You will know,” Afarôt said and then turned to the street. “It has been a long time, Septis.”
“Yes, Afarôt. Much too long,” Septis said. “Love what you’ve done with the place.” He motioned to the world around him. “Nothing like a constant state of war with which to decorate your paradise of peace and love.”
He approached a body facedown in the street and kicked it over. Blood spilled from the corpse’s mouth. Septis snarled as he wiped his dress shoe off on the dead man’s clothes. “This . . . meat doesn’t want paradise. Or peace. It wants war and destruction. Death and intolerance. Those rights are ours to claim. We now have title to this realm. They have chosen this; they have chosen us. You, most of all, should remember! That was the agreement.”
Gabe didn’t understand what was meant by agreement or why Septis acted as if he knew Afarôt.
“That was long ago,” Afarôt said. “Mankind’s mistakes do not grant you claim to this world.”
“Oh, Afarôt.” Septis laughed. “You’ll forgive us if we respectfully disagree.”
He raised his arms, hands empty as if lifting a heavy, unseen object from the ground. Suddenly, clouds grew low in the dark sky above Axum, and a buzzing sound filled the air accompanied by a vibration in the earth.
Tremors shook the ground as Gabe watched Septis strain against the unseen weight.
Around him, pockets of dirt burst from the ground, and millions of hornets streamed into the air. Septis lifted his hands high, controlling the insects as they converged into a swarm, then threw his arms forward toward Afarôt.
The hornets took after him like a guided missile.
Gabe watched, trembling as Septis used his power. Stricken with an unbearable fear, he backed away from the gates and ran toward the Temple of the Ark.
Outside the small building, Micah and his dad stood in the garden. Gabe could see terror in his father’s eyes.
He motioned to Gabe. “We need to find safety. Quickly!” He stepped toward the curtained entrance, pulling Gabe to the throne room.
But Micah did not move. Nor did her focus stray from Septis. “No, Joseph. This is our fight. Carlyle always said that if I reached down far enough, I’d discover the power inside me. If there is anyone in the streets left alive, I have to help them. You should seek cover, though. Take the ladder down to the tabernacle and seal the way behind you.”
A deep sorrow formed on his father’s face. He reached out and hugged Micah but only looked to his son.
Gabe understood. Embracing would mean acknowledging that it might be for the last time.
His dad’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Wait. The stone. Damn it. I nearly forgot. You’ll need it to complete the sword. It’s still inside.”
Without another word, Micah followed him through the entrance.
Gabe watched from outside, the red curtain held back.
“Bloody fool I am. Here it is.” His father retrieved the two pieces from next to the throne. “If ever there was a time to unite the two . . .”
Micah took the sword from his dad and presented the forked tip to him. He held up the stone tip. The grooves matched one another like lock and key, sliding into place and connecting.
The hilt seemed to pulse in her hands. “The energy,” she said. “It’s amazing. I can feel it flowing through me.”
Gabe took a step closer. The sword responded to its connection with Micah. She held it out from her body, and the blade glowed white-hot, showering the room in light. Even from outside, Gabe could feel the power emanating from inside the temple.
“Oh, my God,” his father managed, moving back.
The sword and the stone melded together as if being forged anew. Seams between the two pieces disappeared in a smoldering heat, becoming one. The engravings on the blade burned the color of fire. When it was over, the sword was united into a singular whole. The metal shined so bright it was as if it cast its own light. Engravings in the blade had disappeared to leave behind only one—the symbol of the archangel Michael.
Micah turned to Gabe. “I think I’m ready,” she said.
“I’ll be waiting for you both when this is over.” His dad put his hands on the altar and tried to open the door to the tabernacle. It wouldn’t budge. “Micah, I can’t get it open.”
She laid her hands on it and seemed to concentrate, eyes closed, but nothing happened. Micah turned to Gabe. “We need Afarôt.”
He didn’t hesitate and ran toward the gate, desperate to figure out a way to get his father to safety.
Afarôt was standing his ground near the steps by the road, holding his hands out to fend off the hornets. A barrier of white energy hung in the air, projected from his hands to create a shield against the attack, but it was not enough. He only managed to repel one wave as the swarm re-formed for another assault.
The hornets moved too quickly and maneuvered around the shield faster than Afarôt could expand its coverage, rendering it useless. He abandoned the tactic and ran to Gabe as the hornets gave chase. He turned and with a parting energy bolt from his hand sent the hornets retreating into the sky.
“Afarôt, it’s my father. Please, we can’t get him inside the altar. It’s the only place he’s safe.”
The Ethiopian was out of breath, panting hard. “I’ll see to him. You have the ring. Have faith in it. Have faith in yourself, and you will know what to do. Now is your time, so do not hesitate,” he said and turned toward the temple. “Micah, bring the sword! Bring the sword!”
Gabe was left alone to stare at his hands, hoping for a sign—anything that might help him use his power. Yet he felt nothing inside.
The swarm organized above him. He heard his father’s voice yards away, shouting behind the temple’s red cloth.
Micah pulled the curtain away from the door, peering outside. “Afarôt, we can’t open the ark!”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
No, Septis thought. The ark! He heard the girl’s words and recalled the device’s use from an age long ago. It had been the treasure of Solomon, kept in his temple along with what gave him his power—the ring. If they have found the ark, then they must have also found weapon, he thought. His confidence wavered, and for the first time, he felt his victory might be in jeopardy.
No longer concerned with healers and fledgling archangels, he maneuvered the hornets and sent them crashing against the domed building, but the effect was in vain. They scattered harmlessly into the air and turned back to dust.
A singular thought rang in his mind like the alarm sounding in the compound. They have the ring! They have the ring! No longer, he realized, could he toy with his meal. They had to die before the weapon could be used against him. But if I can obtain it for myself, I could rule over all, even Mastema.
Eyes closed as if in prayer, he called upon all the dark energy inside him. Shadows flowed back to him from the bodies of soldiers and the places hidden from the light cast by the towers and streetlamps. They found him where he stood and slithered up his legs and body, absorbing into his skin.
Septis could feel his power threatening to tear him apart as the shadows, fueled by the dark energies flowing inside the world, joined with his being, becoming part of him. Soon they could no longer be contained within his earthly shell. They came to the surface, churning over his skin in waves like an ocean in a storm.
Shock waves of invisible energy pulsated from his body, burning the air as they rolled out, hurling the remains of Afarôt’s soldiers into the air.
His rage focused on the building that housed the girl and Afarôt. Only Gabriel stood alone outside, but he looked lost, bewildered, and horrified by the display of power.
Gabe watched the streetlamps burst above the man, showering him with falling sparks. Septis seemed to be engulfed by a spinning darkness, like he stood inside the eye of
a hurricane. It whipped around his form, furious and angry.
But what worried Gabe the most was the intensifying rumble in the earth. His enemy no longer looked at him. Instead, all his efforts seemed focused on the temple, where his father and Micah were being helped by Afarôt.
As the shadow continued to build around Septis, the man lifted his arm and leveled it at the small building housing the ark.
Flashes of Yuri turning on Carlyle by the River Wear ran through Gabe’s mind. In an instant he was running toward the gated garden, desperate to reach his father and friends. He screamed in desperation, “Get out! Get out of the temple!”
Septis watched the boy run, laughing as the sensation of the power’s release became impossible to hold back.
A jet of dark energy and shadow erupted from his outstretched hands like a cannon and traveled in a continuous trajectory over the ground toward the temple. With a precision hit, it collided with the building, sending a concussive blast rolling out from the impact. The explosion threw brick and wood in every direction. Glass and metal shattered out into the compound, knocking Gabriel from his feet.
With all his power released, Septis felt a sense of euphoria wash over him. He staggered slightly, winded from the effort, and steadied himself to survey the damage of his wrath. Smoke billowed up from a pile of rubble in a clearing where the temple had once stood. Almost certainly, everyone who had been inside was dead and all the dangers of the ark had been quelled.
Septis approached the steps leading to the gate. He mastered control of his growing excitement, remembering his mistake in New York when he’d been too quick to celebrate his victory. The mission, after all, was still incomplete. Gabriel remained alive.
Not for long.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
The ringing in Gabe’s ears was real this time, the hurt beyond that of any bruise or kick to the chest. He tasted blood, felt the cold electricity in the nerve endings of torn flesh. Blood trickled into his eye from a gash on his brow.
He lay on the ground amongst the debris of the former building. Gabe tried to sit up, but a knifing sensation in his arm traveled over his body. Then he saw stars and heard a cry of pain—his own. His right arm folded in an unnatural way, and he collapsed back to the ground.
It was broken. Badly.
Yet despite the severity of his injuries, he focused on what remained of the temple. Nearby, amongst the wreckage, he could see his father, thrown from where the temple had stood. He lay unmoving on top of a mangled and twisted part of the temple’s steel gate. Memories of the future given to Gabe by the Entheos Genesthai found their way into his mind. Adrenaline surged through his body as he was struck by the realization—the vision had come true. His father was dead.
Gabe pushed his body into action, ignoring the debilitating pain in his arm, and crawled to his dad. As he approached he could see dust and smoke moving away from his father’s mouth.
He’s breathing, Gabe thought. Tears filled his eyes from the relief.
His dad opened his eyes. He made eye contact but didn’t move. Run, he mouthed.
From the street, laughter bellowed out into the night from Septis. The sound was getting closer.
Scanning the wreckage, Gabe saw a wisp of black hair dancing amongst a pile of rubble entwined with uprooted plants and flowers in what had been the garden. He used all the strength he had to overcome the pain in his broken body and tried to get to his feet but buckled from the pain. His knees gave out instantly, unable to support his own weight. He managed to catch himself before collapsing and stumbled to Micah. Under a large slab of wall he found her, hair spread out on the ground and matted with blood, her sword gone, likely buried amongst the rock and debris.
She gasped for air, and Gabe could tell she was dying. All the color had drained from her face. She choked and coughed up blood, which trickled down her chin.
Gabe wiped it away. “Hold on, Micah. Please hold on. Everything will be okay,” he said.
Her breaths came in short and fading gasps. Her eyes met his and told him everything. She didn’t have long.
Gabe bent down and tried in vain to move the slab. It was as big as a person. He grabbed it with both hands and gritted his teeth through the torture of using his lame arm, but it was impossibly heavy and would not budge.
Tears streaked down the dirt on her face. It was a familiar look, not unlike the one Gabe had seen in Carlyle before Yuri struck him down. The same feeling of helplessness to stop the inevitable consumed Gabe.
She knows.
“No,” Gabe said, falling back to her side. Tears flowed uncontrollably down his face. “Please stay with me, Micah.”
She reached up and touched his face, as if telling him it was okay.
Micah’s eyes widened as the end took hold. In an attempt to draw in one last breath, she opened her mouth, struggling to find air. Then her eyes rolled back. The moment seemed to last a lifetime. Finally, her jaw slacked and her eyes shut.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Something inside Gabe came alive, coursing through his veins like the warmth from the Entheos Genesthai.
In his refusal to accept what was happening to Micah, he felt himself surge, change. Anger turned to strength and found its way to the muscles in his body. “You’re not leaving me,” he shouted.
Gabe grabbed the slab again with his one good hand. The concrete crumbled in his grip. With enormous effort, he hurled the slab into the air, freeing Micah’s broken body.
He didn’t waste a second trying to make sense of anything, and in an instant he was on top of Micah, breathing air into her lungs. Her chest rose and fell with every breath he put inside. After a moment he stopped. Nothing happened. Her eyes were still open, vacant.
He tried breathing into her mouth again. Her chest filled with air once more, rising and falling with his efforts. He pulled away and waited. Still, nothing.
“Damn you, Micah. I can’t do this on my own.” Gabe’s emotions overwhelmed him, and he beat his fist against her chest several times before diving back on top of her and blowing air into her mouth as hard as he could.
Micah’s body shuddered, and Gabe felt her cough into his mouth. He pulled back, and her eyes rolled and fluttered shut. Her chest rose and fell, drawing a breath. It was weak, but she was breathing again.
“Poor girl,” Septis said, watching from the street. “She is broken, can’t you see? Very doubtful that she’ll make it. Shame, I suppose. She was quite beautiful.”
As Septis approached, Gabe’s rage refocused on his enemy. He turned from Micah and pulled himself to his feet and faced him. If those he loved could be saved, he had to end this now. I have power. Use it, he told himself.
Gabe lifted his good arm, his hand covered in Micah’s blood, and held it high like Yuri had done under the bridge in Durham and like Afarôt had done in the temple. He willed something to happen, but he was met with only silence. No bluish-white energy shot from his hand. Nothing struck Septis but another howling fit of laughter.
“Stupid boy. Do you really believe yourself to be an archangel? What lies have been laid upon you? You are a fraud. Many battles I have witnessed with their kind, and be assured, friend, you are not of their pedigree.”
Gabe stood helpless, hearing the demon’s words echo his own doubts.
And yet a voice in his head told him to believe. “Have faith in yourself,” she said.
Septis moved for Gabe so quickly, there was little time to react before he was seized and lifted from the ground by the throat.
“I will eat your souls before the day is done. I’m especially looking forward to hers.”
Gabe kicked his legs in the air and fought to breathe as Septis took measure. His other hand opened, palm aimed point-blank at Gabe’s chest. Shadows swirled like vapors of smoke around his fingers.
With his good arm, Gabe gripped the wrist of Septis and tried to pry off his hand. He looked to Micah on the ground below and fought to free himself. A tingling sensation came aliv
e on his skin, electrical, and not unlike the feeling he’d experienced when the soldiers had threatened them upon their arrival to the church. His clothes became charged with a building static.
Septis seemed mildly amused. “Is this the extent of your power? Pathetic.”
Electrical currents traveled over Gabe’s body. Small arcs of light leapt from his clothes to his captor’s like tiny bolts of lightning. On his finger, the stone hidden under a swath of blood sparked.
Septis grabbed the wrist and turned it. The ring caught light cast from the gate tower, which had been toppled by the temple’s explosion. It glistened through the blood on Gabe’s finger. His enemy’s eyes narrowed in a moment of confusion from the jewel’s sheen.
Gabe also studied the ring, unsure of what was happening. It was warm on his finger, radiating power into his hand, up his arm, and into his body. He felt like he’d received a double shot of adrenaline after an overdose of caffeine. His muscles tightened, and he felt as though he could bend steel if he wanted.
The confusion in the face of Septis turned to something else. His eyes grew wide as he apparently recognized the weapon on Gabe’s hand. The demon gasped, and his mouth fell open in disbelief.
Gabe recognized the look. He’d seen it many times over the past days.
Fear.
All his doubts quieted in his mind. All the promises made by his father and Afarôt were now confirmed in the terrified eyes of his enemy. The engraved pentalpha began to glow. “It seems you are the fool,” Gabe said. “I am the archangel Gabriel, friend.”
The power grew inside Gabe, lit by the flame of hatred he felt for his enemy and what he’d done to those Gabe loved. But unlike the restraint he’d attempted with the soldier, Gabe allowed himself to lose control of the power. The electricity dancing over his clothes became a furious swarm of arcing bursts of lightning, his body a live wire. Like his vision before, his skin started to glow. It covered him like a glaze of liquid light and expanded outward, a barrier of humming energy, becoming something more. Something powerful and physical but raw and undeterred.