Angel of Darkness Books 6-10

by Mackenzie Morris

  "I am Ka'taylin, you know? Or have you forgotten that bit of information?" Karix tossed his staff to Liam. "Hold this. I'll leash the Dyvaes."

  As Karix worked on leashing the Dyvaes, Liam was instead focused on Stephan and the blue-winged angel in Liaxa's body who were hovering in the air outside the temple. They were staying there, watching everything as if it was some kind of show for their entertainment. Then their merriment turned to flashes of anger. A pulse of energy flashed through the air, sending the Dyvaes flying back into the sky, their screeching ripping across Liam's eardrums.

  Karix pointed directly at Stephan then ripped open his shirt to reveal a glowing white Ka'taylin rune shaped like a dragon on his chest. "I'm sorry, Liam. It's time. You've been a good rider and I owe you more than this, but you knew what you were getting into when you merged souls with me. Forgive me for what I've done to you. I love you, Liam."

  Liam quickly became enveloped in a thick shadowy blackness that pushed him down behind a bench. The air was sucked from his lungs as he tried to scream. Every vein in his body felt alive and electrified with a tingling pain. Roaring, screams, and the sound of crushing stone surrounded him until there was nothing left.

  The sounds and the surging light instantly vanished, leaving the temple in eerie silence. Liam stepped out from behind the wooden bench to see the light snow falling over the charred and blackened floors where even the embers had gone dark. Liam's breath fogged in the cold air as he shivered under his long grey cloak. He looked around at the emptiness where nothing moved aside from the light breeze that began to blow down from the tops of the nearby mountains. Stephan was gone. The blue-winged angel was gone. Most importantly and most disturbingly, Karix was gone. Not even the demon butterflies remained.

  Liam stumbled out through rubble and into the open area where he spread out his arms and looked up to the sky that was blanketed with thick grey rolling clouds. The snowflakes landed on his cheeks where they were slow to melt, his skin being so cold from the frozen air. There were no fires, no shadows, no magic energy of any kind. It was as if nothing had happened. "Karix?"

  There was no answer aside from the howling of the wind that picked up with the approaching blizzard.

  The first thing Liam thought to do was to find a way to get help. He couldn't stay stranded there. Without Karix, Liam had nothing, no way to get out of the mountain range before the storm moved in. Through all that he had dealt with during his childhood, Liam had never felt more alone than he did right then. He needed to get in touch with anyone who could help him. Liam remembered the vials tucked away safely in his belt pouch. With his fingers that had turned numb in the cold, he dug inside then extracted two red smoke vials. Even this far away, Jeremiah's scouts should have been able to see the red plumes and know that something went horribly wrong. Liam threw the vials down onto the ancient stones where they shattered. He watched the bright smoke flying up above him as he said a prayer to Sola.

  He continued praying in the only way he knew how as he lay down on the ground and curled up to conserve his body heat as best as he could. The sun was setting, and the temperature was rapidly plummeting along with it. Liam's words were heartfelt as he prayed, even though his language was crude and he was never one for learning the traditional prayers that the paladins and priests used in the temples. As the snow began blowing around him in sheets on the whipping winds, Liam knew he was dying. Little by little, he could feel his body shutting down. Was it from the cold? Or did it have something to do with what Karix had said to him before disappearing? Was it time? Was it time to pay his debt to Karix for all the help he had given him? If Karix was indeed dead, then Liam's turn was rapidly approaching.

  That only became more apparent as a sharp pain exploded on the top of his head. Bright blood trickled down the sides of his face as his dark green horns pushed their way out of his scalp and curled back towards his neck. All at once, green and black scales spread up his arms and legs. He was writhing in the snow as the itching covered his entire body. No matter how much he scratched at his skin, the sensation would not stop. The itching then turned to pain, sharp stinging pain. Liam screamed as his fingernails grew out into curved claws and his voice morphed into a powerful dragon's roar. He continued to roar into the night until he lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Day 9: Evening

  Vilyron Military Camp, Outer Ilyan, Central Vilyron

  Various Infantry, Angelic, and Allied Forces

  Sweet perfume wafted in the air as the graceful angel in the long pink dress hovered above the camp . . . laughing. Tarael's large hoop earrings glittered in the sparks of light that danced across the starry sky. He swung one end of his bladed chain as he rained down pure light magic over the field where Vilyron and Wolfekin soldiers were swinging their pikes and swords as high as they could send them, failing to reach the angel.

  Jaylen watched the disgusting spectacle from just inside his tent as Zeriel finished strapping on his dented and scratched white plate armor for him. Made from dragon scales, it was durable and flexible while still providing adequate protection . . . even if it was beat up from Carvael's sword impaling him. Jaylen traced the clean gash that went all the way through the breastplate and he felt his bandaged stomach underneath. Another wound like that would leave him dead for sure, but he couldn't think about that aspect of it. There was a reason he chose to wear this armor that Carvael gave him instead of his normal chainmail. This way, he could prove a point.

  Zeriel cinched down the leather straps under Jaylen's arms that held on his pauldrons. He patted his back. "You're good to go, Jay. Go instill pure fear into Carvael's forces. Remember, you're dead to them."

  "That's the plan." Jaylen slid his tall helmet over his face then slowly stepped out of the tent.

  Jeremiah's angels were engaging Tarael high up in the sky as the soldiers on the ground were running around like ants, trying to avoid the magic that rained down on them. On the far side of the camp, Trevor was handing out newly-crafted swords and armor to the troops as they ran past. The remaining scouts were perched on the hills to the west where they readied their longbows to shoot flaming arrows at the angel.

  Jaylen's armor-plated boots sunk down in the soft clay and the mud as he ignored the blasts of light magic that exploded nearby. His eyes were fixed on Tarael. He turned his attention to the voice inside his head that was begging for attention. "Okay, Finalis. Your turn. I give you full control."

  "That's exactly what I've been waiting to hear!"

  Jaylen held out his arms as the power bubbled up inside his chest. All of a sudden, his eyes flashed with a glowing white power and Finalis's laughter escaped from his mouth. Bright ethereal wings spread from his back, carrying him into the tumultuous air. He drew his longsword from his waist, sending Hell's flames down the length of the blade. He pointed it at the effeminate angel and yelled at him. "Tarael!"

  Tarael turned around, blocking a shower of arrows with a glittering field of magic. He was so stunned at what he saw that his field vanished a second too early and he took an arrow to his thigh. It didn't seem to faze him, though. "Finalis . . . no. You're dead. Carvael killed you!"

  Jaylen chuckled darkly as he swung his flaming blade threateningly in front of him. "I can't be killed, Tarael. I'm Finalis. Or have you conveniently forgotten that? Now, Doran!"

  From behind the archers on the hills, all manner of bloodcurdling hissing, screeching, and howling preceded the pale-skinned beings that were crawling on their hands and knees. Their long tongues lapped the air as they panted and flashed their bright white fangs. Their red eyes peered out from the darkness of their black hoods as they raced towards the angel.

  Jaylen took his chance and flew at Tarael, slashing out at the angel's wings. There was impact and a flash of bright orange as Hell's flames singed the wings. White feathers drifted down to the ground as Tarael lost his balance and fell straight into the mass of vampires. Jaylen dove towards him, only to be thrown backwards with a slic
e from Tarael's chain. So he was still fighting.

  Even with his burnt wings and what appeared to be a broken leg from his fall, Tarael continued swinging his long chain into the crowd of ravenous vampires that was clambering over each other to get a swipe at the angel. The vampires dug their razor-sharp claws into the angel's tender flesh, ripping his dress to shreds until they all jumped at once. Tarael screamed as he collapsed under the mass of vampires who drained his blood from him.

  Doran held out his hand as he commanded his vampires. "Enough! Get off of him, you demons. Go back to the coven until I give you more orders."

  Reluctantly, the vampires withdrew their fangs from their meal then slunk away back over the hills, leaving blood-soaked feathers in their path. They moaned and gnashed their teeth together as they crawled along, shooting back haunting glances at the soldiers who stood there in shock at what they had just witnessed.

  Jaylen's wings vanished as he landed then slid his longsword back into its sheath. He stared at the mangled angel whose skin was drained of all color aside from the dozens of fang marks that spotted his body. He was obviously dead.

  Finalis sighed. "Well, that was anticlimactic. I was really looking forward to a long fight there, you know? Something of legends or at least children's tales. But that was just pathetic."

  "You're right. It was easy. Are we just that powerful now?"

  "We are powerful, but not that powerful. You should go examine the body. Something isn't right here."

  "It was too easy. Tarael is the most powerful angel I know aside from Zeriel and Carvael. I only hit him once."

  "Go examine the body." Finalis ordered.

  "Okay, okay. But you'd better be ready to take over again in case he's faking this."

  "Oh, no. You misunderstand my caution. Tarael is indeed dead. I can sense that his soul has left his body. I'm just curious as to why."

  Jaylen slowly approached Tarael's bruised and burnt body, his boots snapping the long pinion feathers that littered the ground. He ignored the cheering and celebrating of the troops behind him as he knelt down then lifted up the ripped silk fabric. That's when he spotted it. A large black symbol had been tattooed across Tarael's stomach. Why? The more he examined it, the more familiar it seemed. He had seen it somewhere before, but he couldn't quite place it.

  Jeremiah joined him then raised an eyebrow as he tapped his fingers on his chin. "Well . . . that is unexpected. That's Ka'taylin. But I don't know the dialect. See the sloping at the top of the rune? Normally that would be straight across. It's older than anything I've dealt with."

  "Is it Draconic?" Jaylen asked.

  "No. If it's what I think it is, we are in trouble." Jeremiah stood up then motioned to one of his angels. "Bring Jaycob to me. Tell him to bring his translation books. If anyone here can read this, it will be him. If not, we'll have to wait until one of the Ka'taylins finds their way back to camp."

  The angel bowed, but instead of leaving to fetch Jaycob, he pointed to the north. "Commander, one thing first. Smoke signals on the horizon."

  Jeremiah spun around then took out his spyglass. "Red. Who could be over there? That's so far away. The only force I had deployed in that area was . . . oh, Sola help me."

  "What?" Jaylen asked. "What is it?"

  "Liam and Karix."

  Jaylen stood up and wiped the angel's blood on his armor before removing his helmet. "Zeriel, can we-" He spun around, looking through the rows of soldiers and angels around him. Zeriel was . . . gone. "Zeriel? Jeremiah, where did Zeriel go?"

  He looked just as puzzled as he was. "I don't know."

  Chapter 7

  The rough blank walls were little solace to Xair as he sat in the back corner where a single ball of yellow mage-glow hovered up near the ceiling. There was nothing in the room except for a bucket, a weapon rack covered in various whips and canes, and a pile of squirming white maggots crawling on a bowl of oatmeal. Xair had eaten half of it like a dog on his elbows and knees with his face in the bowl, much to Sulstair's amusement. He didn't care, though. If he was going to survive, he needed his strength. Without a reserve supply of mana to eat, Xair's power had waned. It seemed even seraphs needed nourishment. He hadn't touched anything else in the place. His broken fingers were bandaged and the blood from his wounds had dried over his plain white cotton pants that Sulstair had dressed him in. He was wearing nothing else.

  Xair surrounded his arms and chest with his purple dragon wings as he traced Ka'taylin runes into the filthy slime that coated the floor with his bare toes. They didn't mean anything. They were just ways to pass the time until he made his move. He had been sleeping most of the time, storing up his energy so he could utilize every scrap of it to power his spells. The longer he waited and suffered, the more capable he would be once the time came.

  The cell door scraped along the stone floor as it was pulled open by Sulstair. He stepped into the room then shook his head as he leaned against the wall. "What are you still doing here?"

  Xair only stared back at him.

  "You're a seraph, Xair. Even enchanted golden chains can't hold you. And yet here you are, inside this cell where the door has been unlocked this entire time. You knew that, didn't you?"

  "Yes, I knew it was unlocked."

  "Then why stay?" Sulstair asked. "What is this? Do you feel the need to punish yourself for something you've done? Is this a severe form of self-hatred? Or do you like being kept in a cold cell with no bed and maggot-filled oatmeal to eat? Well? Tell me."

  "What do you want with me?"

  "I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing? Are you hoping that Jeremiah and his little army of angels will come find you? Are you pretending to be his little spy? Say something. Anything."

  "What do you want me to say?" Xair asked, eyeing him closely. "I'm here where you wanted me. Have I not been an obedient prisoner?"

  "Stand up and come with me. I have something that you want to see."

  Xair managed to stand up, catching himself with his elbows on the wall. He had zero ability to use his hands, but he wasn't about to show weakness. After all, he was still a pure Ka'taylin man. And he would always be proud of that. To further show his pride and his determination, Xair held out his hands to the elf. "Aren't you going to shackle me?"

  Sulstair raised an eyebrow as he held the cell door open for him. "Friends don't put friends in shackles."

  Xair scoffed, tossing his head to send his white bangs out of his eyes. "I never claimed to be your friend."

  "That is true, but when a person has every opportunity to kill me, but chooses not to . . . he would have to be at least a tiny bit friendly. You could have killed me when I made you kneel on the floor and whipped you last night. I didn't even restrain you. You could have killed me when I humiliated you and hurt you like I did. Xair, I've been torturing you and abusing you in ways that I wouldn't treat a dog, but you took it. I was trying to see how far I would have to go to make you break. Why didn't you stop me?"

  The truth of it all was simple. Yes, he had been hurting. Yes, he had had been humiliated beyond belief. But it wasn't enough to break him. It would never be enough. Xair turned to look directly into the necromancer's orange-yellow eyes. "You can't break a man who has already been shattered."

  "You know, I like you. I always have, Xair. You're not weak and whiny like Jaylen or Zeriel were before their deaths. I want this to be the beginning of a true friendship."

  "I thought I already told you we're not friends."

  Sulstair snapped his fingers to send a shadowy ball of light into the air in order to illuminate their way. "And I already told you we are as close to being friends as you're going to get. You wouldn't still be here if you didn't want something from me. I'm not stupid. Even I can't stand up against a seraph. Actually . . . I take that back. I can't stand up against most seraphs. There is one."

  "One? One what?"

  "One seraph that I can deal with. He's young and has no idea what's going on. That's who I'm takin
g you to see."

  Another seraph? A young one? As Xair shuffled down the crumbling hallway close behind Sulstair, he tried to think of who could have become the next seraph to take Nimiel's place. And a young seraph at that? Xair had thought that Nimiel was far too young to be a seraph, so anyone younger than that would more than likely end up being a liability instead of a valuable ally.

  Once they turned around a corner, Sulstair stopped outside a darkened cell and motioned inside where a very young Ka'taylin boy was curled up on a cot. "Look what I found in Tivareshen. You know him, right? Is this what you stayed around here to see? Did you know I was keeping him down here?"

  Xair gasped. Of course he knew him. Those giant purple eyes and braided white hair were undeniable. Xair watched his brother sleeping on the cot, his tiny body heaving as he breathed. His eyes were fluttering open as he was lost in dreaming. The chains binding his ankles and his wrists were bigger around than his thin arms. It was clear the boy was not in good condition. He was wearing only the same cotton pants that were too big for him, leaving his very emaciated torso visible. Little ribs were protruding through his black skin that was glistening with a sheen of sweat. The shackles around his ankles had been crushed somehow and had cut into his skin.

  "Well?" Sulstair held out a key towards Xair. "Don't you want to free your brother?"

  Xair finally reached his point of necessity. He could have dealt with more whippings, starvation, or anything else that Sulstair could have put him through. But not this. This was the one thing that could still break Xair Korvin. "What do I have to do to get Ulon out of there?"

  "Take me into the Vilyron military camp."

  "No deal."

  "Why not?" Sulstair asked with his hands on his hips. "We both want the same thing, Xair. We want to be left to our own free will without any influence from Carvael. Simple, right? You need my help just as much as I need yours. We don't have to be friends, okay? Think of us instead as being business partners."