by C. L. Roman
“They’re stronger too,” Gant put in, then colored as everyone stared at him. “I uh, well, it was just a friendly wrestling match with Zam. Just fooling around really.” His grin turned rueful with the memory, “I thought I’d beat him easy, but he almost took me.”
Adahna shook her head. “Men,” she snorted.
“Wait, wait,” Phaella held up both hands, “you’re telling me they’re angels – all of them?” She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s just not possible.”
“Not angels, exactly, but the descendants of angels, yes,” Fomor responded.
Gant scoffed, “No way. Angels don’t procreate.” He looked sadly at Sena. “They can’t.”
“It is true that angels cannot reproduce as humans do, but our bodies are, in many respects, quite similar. A human/angel pairing can, and apparently has, produced children.” Fomor’s response, coupled with the newly understood evidence of their own eyes, left little room for doubt.
“It’s possible,” Adahna mused. “In the Shift, I’ve seen some interesting mixes. Most of them are long into what humans would term the future, but it will happen. Foxes and cats was the strangest one I saw.”
“We are not animals!” Sena burst out. “We don’t just—”
“Well, apparently at least one of us did,” Jotun’s mild tone did little to calm her agitation, but he continued. “Doesn’t mean anyone in this group is going to, but it is something to think about.”
“All of this is beside the point,” the captain’s flat statement brought everyone back into line. “One of the reasons the initial battle ended as quickly as it did was the decimation of Lucky’s army. Without sufficient troops he was unable to carry the fight beyond Par-Adis before being defeated. Since then he has been unable to recruit additional angelic troops.”
Fomor stood silent, looking deeply into each face in turn. It shook him to think that there might be one among them that he couldn’t trust, but if Bellator was to be believed, that was the situation. The idea bothered him far more than anything else he had been told. He thrust the unwelcome thought aside and continued.
“The humans Lucky has managed to bring to his side are too weak and too few to present any kind of real threat, though their number has been growing consistently. He knows they cannot fight against us directly, so he needs stronger warriors. He has no creative power, no way to start from scratch but if he found a way…”
“Human-angel hybrids? So what? It would take years, generations really, to build an army that way. You’re not seriously suggesting he’d try that?” Volot stood a little apart from the others, apparently too restless to sit still.
“Time wouldn’t mean much to him, just as it means little to us. He might think that Sabaoth would be reluctant to fight against an army with human bloodlines. He certainly finds the idea of turning Sabaoth’s precious ones against Him intensely attractive,” Fomor reasoned.
Volot was not convinced. “You give him too much credit. First, how could he know they’re here? We didn’t even realize it until you just told us. Besides, is there any doubt that he is finished? We saw his fire trail as he fell from Heaven. Nothing could have survived that.”
“Obviously many did. And Lucky was the strongest among them. Do not make the mistake of thinking him permanently beaten,” Adahna put in, her mouth twisting with the sour taste of irony. “He’s been damaged, yes. But in Lucky’s case the pain of defeat is likely to give him a taste for revenge rather than a lesson in humility.”
Fomor tapped the hilt of his sword with restless fingers, felt the weight of responsibility settle between his shoulder blades, and accepted it without question but not without doubts. “In any case, what Lucky plans, what he knows or doesn’t know, matters little. Our assignment remains the same.”
“But why—”
“Lieutenant Volot,” Fomor snapped out. “Of late you have developed a disturbing tendency to question orders as if you have lost faith in the command of this unit.” Fomor drew a deep, calming breath, deliberately unclenched his fists and continued. “Do you have an objection to this assignment?”
“No, sir. I have no objection to any assignment Jehovah Sabaoth might give.” He took several calming breaths of his own, sank down next to Jotun before continuing. “But to be banished?” He raked stiff fingers through his hair and gripped the skull beneath as if it might explode at any moment.
Jotun laid a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “None of us is easy with that Volot.”
Sena gripped Gant’s hand tighter, “Is it anything we didn’t expect though?” Ignoring Adahna’s indrawn breath she continued, “No, really. What did we think would happen? Did any of us doubt the consequences of our choice?”
“Sena is right,” Gant put his arm around her and kept her other hand tight in his. “If anything, Sabaoth has been merciful. Banishment is painful, but when you consider the alternative…”
The group was silent, depression creeping among them like invisible fog.
Finally, Phaella threw up her hands in mock exasperation. “What a bunch of whiny babies you all are!” Ignoring the indignant gasps and halfhearted protests of her companions she stood up and stretched like a cat in the sun. “Who wanted to go home anyway? I mean, we got a pretty good thing going here. Volot, I’ve seen that Shahara eyeing you like a prime cut of steak and Adahna, do you really want to walk away from Zam?”
Grinning over their obvious embarrassment, she stepped casually around the circle, gesturing dramatically. “We’ve got Jotun and that little Gwyneth person – hah!” Practically dancing with glee, she pointed at him as his eyes widened warningly, “You thought we hadn’t noticed! No need to give me that “wait ‘till I get you on the training field” look.” Out of the corner of her eye Phaella saw that the others were now having difficulty restraining grins.
“I know I’ve certainly found a reason to stay. Even the good Captain—” A single glance at his face had her retracing her steps, “well, you get my point – it’s not like we’ve been given slop pot duty.” Her expression went from teasing to deadly serious as she reclaimed her seat, “The preservation of an entire blood-line is an important mission. Who knows what these people will be able to accomplish? We’ve been given a second chance, that’s nothing to be sad about.”
The quiet that settled over the group was thoughtful now and Fomor was grateful to Phaella for the boost to moral. Still, he kept his face stern. “Point taken, Phaella. And now, if playtime is over, perhaps we can return to the business at hand?” Since his tone was far more amused than his expression, Phaella didn’t squirm much, but she didn’t risk a reply either.
“Training guide for this type of duty,” Jotun stepped in, grinning fiercely as Phaella shot him a glance under her lashes, “is sketchy. We never anticipated having to defend against our own.”
Fomor agreed. “The little there is says we run silent. Stay invisible, do battle strictly in the spiritual arena. However, given the current parameters, that won’t work here.”
“No, the humans already know us,” Adahna concurred. “If we were to disappear now, it would trouble them. Might even leave them open to the Fallen if they came in disguise.”
“Will we be able to tell the difference?” Volot wondered.
“No way to know for sure,” Fomor responded. “I knew Bansh for what he was immediately, but he wasn’t trying to keep it a secret by that time. No telling what he looked like when he lured Nera in.”
So Cap, what’s the plan?” Gant asked. His and Sena’s fingers remained intertwined, but the tension was gone.
Fomor turned to the couple, intensely aware that out of the entire unit, these two had the least reason to see this assignment as anything other than a punishment. Stifling a sigh, he replied, “We continue as we’ve started, but we integrate. As much as possible we become part of the life of this village. We protect from the inside.”
None noticed the snake that slithered away from the encampment, or the bird like sh
adow that took to the air outside the oasis and flew, like a broken arrow, crippled but determined, into the western sky.
Chapter Ten
“I did not say it was impossible, only that we would have to ask permission.”
Three days had passed since Bellator had given his verdict and delivered their orders. Three days in which to formulate a plan of action. No more comfortable with the situation now than when he had begun, Fomor kept his eyes trained on the cave wall in front of him.
Having been reminded that they could manipulate the weather, he had begun to wonder what other elements were vulnerable to angelic control. A little experimentation had revealed the extent of their abilities far exceeded expectations. Maintaining their pose as artisans and merchants would be easier physically than he had anticipated, but there was still work to be done. He and Volot were working in the alabaster caves to increase their supply of raw materials.
The air in the cave was moist and cool, the light dim. Fomor smoothed his hand over the rough wall, seeking the edge of the deposit. The sound of Volot’s feet shifting on the sandy floor scraped and echoed as he struggled for control.
“You asked no permission before,” Volot grated, then compressed his lips and took an involuntary step back when Fomor whipped around to face him.
“No,” the air vibrated with the ferocity of his reply, “I didn’t and look where it has gotten us.” He gestured to the stark underground chamber. “Miners and merchants, banished, neither favored nor fallen. I may not be the brightest star in the firmament, but I learn from my mistakes.”
“We have no real connection here,” Volot protested. “Nephel suffers our presence, but if we reject his offer who knows how long that will last.”
Fomor shrugged. “Nephel has been patient so far.”
“What you say is true Fomor, but what if Sabaoth says no? How do we justify our continued presence if we are not part of the family?”
Fomor sighed heavily, “You have made your point. Marrying into the family will give us a permanent attachment, I agree. But we cannot move forward in such a way without permission. I will not risk angering Sabaoth again, nor making a move which I do not know the full wisdom of.”
Volot looked at his captain questioningly, but the other angel’s closed expression made it plain that Fomor would say no more.
The two turned back to the cave wall and worked in silence. Fomor found the edge of the alabaster deposit he had been working. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused his attention on the minute spaces between the smooth, almost creamy particles of alabaster and the rougher, slightly larger particles of common rock along that edge. There was a low level hum of sound as the stone softened at his touch, not melting but reforming. His hands glimmered into incandescence, became transparent as his gaze intensified and he slid slow fingers into the wall, cupping, shaping the alabaster gently until he felt it shift and detach. He lifted it free of the wall, leaving a rounded depression. He allowed the pale orb with its fine tracery of green and gold to harden in his hand before placing it on the growing pile of such stones already harvested that morning.
Volot frowned at the lumpier, darker sampling in his own hand. “How do you do that?” he asked, gesturing to Fomor’s stone.
Fomor shrugged. “Patience I guess. I tried doing it faster, but I wasn’t as happy with the results.” He grinned slyly at his friend. “Sometimes you just have to do things by the numbers, right?”
Volot suppressed a grin and made as if to throw the lumpy stone at the taller angel, cupping it back at the last minute. “Yes, well, so long as you do them, right?”
“Agreed. That’s why I sent Sena to Bellator this morning with the report. I detailed several courses of action, with intermarriage being the one most likely to produce the connections necessary to sustain the mission. I expect his reply by this afternoon. Hey!” he cried as a small stone whizzed past his ear, but Volot was facing the cavern wall again, slipping his hand carefully into the next deposit.
Smirking, Volot gently withdrew a glowing sphere, “I see that you were right – all it takes is patience.”
Later that evening Fomor and Adahna were walking along the path that joined the encampment and the village. The logistics officer was attempting to brief her captain on local marriage customs.
“I’m telling you Captain, this is not a simple arrangement between two people. In fact the desires, and even the welfare, of the bride and groom are secondary considerations at best.”
“Surely you are joking. The couple will be joined for life, in the most intimate of relationships! How can their needs be secondary?”
Adahna halted suddenly, causing Fomor to stop as well. “I am not joking. Marriages are used to create alliances between families. Then the alliance may be called upon in time of need against a common enemy, for instance, or in the formation of a trading partnership. Bonds of kinship are taken very seriously Captain. That is why this plan of action will be successful.”
Fomor nodded. “It will seem natural for us to remain here and to be directly involved in the life of the village. I understand that, but what is this about paying for one’s bride?”
Creases formed above the lieutenant’s eyes, “There is a strange sort of logic to it. Women are valuable in that they are the only ones who can enlarge the family directly by producing children. Further, their homemaking efforts free the men to do the work of provision and protection.”
“Well enough, but you said something about a – what was it called? A dowry?”
“Yes, the household goods, normally, that a bride brings to her new home. This will be more problematic for us than the bride price. Thanks to that alabaster deposit you found, we won’t have any trouble showing that we can provide for Danae and the others. Showing that Phaella and I have the wherewithal to be good wives may be more difficult.”
Fomor snorted. “That is ridiculous. You and Phaella should be wary of getting the poorer end of that bargain.”
Adahna hid a smile but continued in a business like tone, “That may be, but we are asking for five marriages. This is very unusual, maybe unheard of. Nephel may be reluctant to bind his family so strongly to ours.”
Fomor grumbled, but Adahna continued as if she had not heard.
“Remember, to him we are merely homeless merchants whom he assisted out of the goodness of his heart. What we have to offer must be significant if we are to have any hope of acceptance.”
A wolfish grin crossed the captain’s face. “Don’t worry Adahna, I believe we have more to offer than you might think.
Moments later the two met with Nephel in his home. Reclining on soft pillows in the warm glow of a brazier, the three waited as Naomi, Nephel’s first wife, served tea and oat cakes before seating herself at her husband’s side.
“You honor us with your visit, Fomor.” Nephel inclined his head and smiled.
“As you do us with your hospitality Nephel,” Fomor replied. “I was not sure of your customs in discussions such as this. I am honored by the presence of your wife.”
“As am I by your – sister?” Nephel raised one black brow in question, relaxing when Fomor nodded agreement.
None of the captain’s tension showed in his face. He kept his voice calm, his manner relaxed as he replied, “Yes, the matter I wish to discuss involves several of my brothers and sisters. Therefore, I thought it good to have Adahna here. I have always found her council valuable; as I am sure you have found Naomi’s.”
Naomi quickly covered her mouth with her hand, but did not speak. Nephel simply nodded, saying nothing, though his eyebrow shot nearly to his dark hairline.
Fomor took a casual sip of his tea. Mistake number one and we haven’t even brought up the subject in question, he thought. If I make it through this alive, marriage will be a walk by the Crystal Sea.
“Perhaps you should tell him of our desire, brother,” Adahna interposed softly, eyes steadfastly studying the pattern of the carpet under her knees. Naomi’s eye
s danced above her hand and Nephel’s other eyebrow joined the first.
Fomor stared hard at his lieutenant, but she did not meet his gaze and he turned back to Nephel. “Perhaps it might be best if we began our discussion alone?”
Nephel’s eyebrows resumed their customary position and his expression became politely, patiently inquiring. Naomi murmured an excuse about seeing to supper preparations and exited the room with haste while Adahna stared at the captain in consternation before following her hostess from the room.
Fomor closed his eyes a moment and, for the first time in his two thousand years, seriously considered abandoning the field of battle. Instead he gathered his courage, took a calming breath and started over. “I believe it would be to our mutual advantage to create a strong alliance between our two families.”
“I have come to see you as a good man Fomor, and value your friendship. However – and forgive me for saying so, I mean no offense – I can see no advantage to my family in allying with yours.”
The corners of Fomor’s mouth tipped upward in a slight smile, “Yet this is not a new idea to you, I think.”
Nephel waved the comment aside. “Come now,” he said, not unkindly, “You must admit, even the land your encampment rests on was a gift.”
“True, you did agree not to oppose our settling on the far side of the oasis. The gift of your friendship has great value to us. We have decided to make our settlement a permanent one and have, even today, begun building our dwellings there.”
Nephel said nothing, only waited. Fomor took another slow sip of his tea and continued. “We would be honored, Nephel, if you would consider the possibility of joining our two families through marriage.”
The women entered with the main course of bread and cheese served with small medallions of grilled goat meat. Nephel was silent while they seated themselves and served portions to the men, then withdrew slightly to serve themselves.