“You have brought a demon here?” Maya shouted, regaining her feet as she recovered her composure. She drew herself up in indignation. “Here, to the Throne of God, of all places, and you have the gall to accuse me of sacrilege?”
“Demon or no, Kaelus is as good and pure as any angel,” Mikal said forcefully, “and he comes to help us in the hour of our worst peril.”
“He is a minion of Shaitan!” Maya hissed, retreating to the Throne. She stood before the glowing golden radiance and spread her wings wide as she raised her hands high. “He must be destroyed!”
“Maya, no!” Uriel called, forgetting himself as he dashed forward.
“Uriel!” Maya cried. “You, too, have betrayed me? You betray the Throne and God Himself with your decision!”
“I hold fast to the virtues set forth by God with my decision, Pretender,” Uriel shouted defiantly, but it was obvious Maya was beyond hearing any of them.
The Seraph tilted her head back as the light in the Hall dimmed all around them. Maya herself seemed to draw the light into her until she blinded them all with her radiance.
“Strike now, before she draws too much!” Kaelus shouted. He sprang forward and six-inch talons sprang from his fingers as he leapt toward the Throne. Mikal leapt straight up into the air and swooped down toward Maya, while Uriel ran to approach her from the side, the crystalline sword in his hand burning fiercely.
Kaelus reached Maya first. He stretched out his hand just as she lowered her head and their eyes locked. The dark-skinned demon was hurled back and hung suspended a full six feet off the floor, completely immobilized. Uriel and Mikal stopped where they were, similarly frozen.
Before Birch and the other mortals could do more than grasp at their swords, Maya waved a hand and they were engulfed in a golden wave of light that left them all paralyzed and completely helpless.
Silence engulfed the Hall of the Throne as Maya looked at the living statues assembled before her. Finally she laughed – a haunting, musical cascade of sound – until her voice echoed back and spilled forth from the Hall to fill the empty, holy city of Medina.
Chapter 20
The histories we have from the Great Schism were handed down by the angels, and every scholar knows it is the victors who write history. I have often wondered how a history from the point of view of the demons would read.
- Dekken Raime, formerly of the Orange Facet,
from the record at his trial and sentencing (659 AM)
- 1 -
An eerie silence descended on the Hall of the Throne. Maya’s golden eyes glittered in satisfaction as she gazed on the motionless shapes frozen before her. She smiled languidly in pleasure.
“Thank you, God,” she whispered, staring upward, “for showing me worthy and proving your benevolent wisdom. I will continue to carry out Your will, and will always…”
A sharp, muffled sound cut her off abruptly, and her head jerked down to stare at the motionless bodies that littered the floor. Her gaze narrowed as she peered intently. It was impossible to think someone had escaped her power, and yet…
The sound was repeated…There!
Maya made a parting motion with her hands, and the living statues of men and elves slid to either side, exposing an aged, balding, mortal human. He stood absolutely motionless, one hand covering most of his face, and his eyes were focused off to one side. Maya stared at him intently until finally the old man flinched violently as he tried to suppress yet another sneeze.
“Oh, pardon me,” the old man said, noticing Maya’s attention. He nodded once at her, then froze in place yet again.
“Cease this sham, foolish mortal,” Maya said ominously. “You aren’t frozen like the others. Why?”
“Well of course I’m not frozen,” the old man said without moving, “never said I was. But everyone else seems to have stopped moving, so I figured there must be some reason for it, so I should probably stop moving too, so they won’t feel bad. Politeness, you understand.”
“I asked you a question, mortal.”
“You did? Terribly sorry, perhaps I didn’t hear you,” the old man said. “Could you repeat it, please?”
“What is your name, mortal?” Maya asked.
“Now that wasn’t the question you asked, madam,” he replied, and finally he moved so he could put his hands on his hips. “I guess I did hear you after all, and I even remember your question. You asked me why I’m able to move. Now, which is it you want to know?”
“You try my patience, old human,” Maya glowered, “and that is unwise. I am Metatron. I am the Voice of God, and my power here is absolute. I could erase you in an instant. Now answer me.”
“Voice?” the old man said. “Isn’t it hard to hear when you’re talking?”
Mara glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Enough, mortal, you waste my time,” Maya said dismissively. She snapped her fingers and said, “Be gone.”
The old human remained motionless. Moreover, he remained. Maya stared at him incredulously, but the mortal stared back with guileless innocence.
“You should be gone,” Maya whispered in spite of herself.
“Why would I want to do that?” the old man asked, his head tilted quizzically.
“Who are you, mortal?” Maya demanded. “No more evasions.”
“My name is Trames,” the old man said, extending a hand, “pleased to meet you. Or I guess I’d be pleased if you weren’t really you, but since you really can’t help that, I’ll have to make do. Hmmm, that’s sort of catchy,” he said, trailing off as he hummed softly to himself. His proffered hand fell back to his side, forgotten.
After a moment, he shook his head and stared at Maya as though realizing she was still there.
“Now that I’ve answered your question, will you answer one of mine, madam?” Trames asked brightly.
Perplexed by his odd behavior, Maya could only nod.
“What is the opposite of love?”
Unbidden, various answers and rationales cycled through Maya’s head.
“Why do you ask?” she replied, not willing to give in and justify him with an answer.
Why am I holding this ridiculous conversation? Maya wondered silently, then she answered herself. Because he is immune to my power, and I must understand why. Is he a demon from Hell even more powerful than Kaelus? What or who else could resist me so?
Trames shrugged.
“It’s one of those things I’ve just always wondered what God had to say about it. I have a list somewhere, I think. Anyway, I figured that asking the Voice of God would be the surest way to know something,” he said. “Perhaps I was wrong.”
Maya glared at him.
While she was thinking, Trames had wandered closer to where several of the mortals and immortals were frozen. He leaned closer to the gray-cloaked paladin and whispered in his ear.
“What are you doing?” Maya demanded. “Get away from him.”
Instead of complying, Trames turned and gave her an impish smile as he held up one finger as though instructing her to be patient. He whispered something else, then turned away and walked toward a blue-cloaked man who bore a family resemblance to the older paladin.
“I’ve read many history books,” Trames said aloud as he crossed the hall, “and some even that dealt with the history handed down from immortals regarding the Great Schism. It’s an impressive tale, the triumph of Heaven over Hell, good versus evil.”
“I was there, mortal,” Maya reminded him. In spite of herself, she was curious what the old man would do and say next. She had to understand how he resisted her power! Just as a test, Maya once again exerted her will in an effort to obliterate the mortal, but he continued prattling on without any sign that he’d noticed a surge of will that should have permanently wiped him from the face of Heaven.
“Of course, of course,” Trames said, nodding and smiling. “One thing I came across mentioned how the forces of Hell moved as a coordinated force, as though one mind guided them all.”
&nb
sp; “The will of Mephistopheles,” Maya spat in disgust. “The King of Hell guided the actions of every twisted demon who swore allegiance to his evil ways until he eventually ruled them all. He dominated their minds and controlled them all as one.”
“Not all of them,” Trames reminded her with a significant glance at Kaelus, who still hung suspended in the air. “Abdiel and Kaelus. What made them different?”
Trames stood next to the young, blue-cloaked paladin and whispered in his ear. He glanced at Maya and actually winked at her, then whispered a few more words before he turned to face the Throne where Maya still stood.
“They didn’t submit to his will,” Maya answered him grudgingly. “They maintained their sense of self, despite Mephistopheles’s tremendous power and influence. They were too powerful for him.”
Trames nodded. “No doubt.”
Why, then, did Maya get the distinct feeling Trames didn’t believe that explanation?
“Meanwhile,” he continued, “the angels of Heaven fought like a well-coordinated force, but each was an individual. Every angel enjoyed that sense of self, and it proved tremendously effective and considerably more powerful. The result?” Trames gestured grandly. “Heaven triumphed and Hell was expelled. One King learned his lesson, and since that day demons have enjoyed individuality on a level they’d never before experienced.”
“How do you know this, mortal?” Maya asked shrewdly.
“Not all the immortals who left histories behind were angelic in nature,” Trames explained. “The Myein[20] in particular once guarded libraries of texts sacred to them. Much can be gained by studying the tomes left by demons, if one is careful.”
“Heresy!” Maya hissed. “Blasphemy!”
“Probably not,” Trames shook his head, then he shrugged, “but then you’d probably be much happier if we didn’t go into that just now. Especially when there’s even more interesting things to discuss.”
“Such as?”
“The answer to your second question, or maybe it was your first,” Trames said, frowning. “I forget. That part of our little chat was very confusing.”
Maya clenched her fist in frustration. This mortal was trying her patience. Immune to her power or not, he was still a mortal, and a solid blow would put him down like the lowest of beasts.
“Get on with it, human,” Maya said darkly. “You were talking about why you seem to be immune from my power.”
“Was I?” Trames looked surprised. “I suppose I was. Funny, that.” He looked at her and noted the stormy expression on Maya’s face, and he quickly moved on. “Yes, well, as to that, it comes down to a question of choice and belief. My friends here, from the Seraphim to the humans and elves, even that demonic fellow over there, all believe in the superior strength of immortal power. Immortal power stems from God, or even Satan if you will, and nothing is more powerful than the divine, yes?”
Maya nodded. She glowered at the comparison of the Dark One to the Almighty, but remained silent so as not to interrupt the old man, in the hopes he would soon get to the point.
“And yet here I stand, untouched by your attempts to freeze and vanish me,” Trames said, snapping his fingers, “suggesting there may be something to trump even that power. Yes?”
“Greater than the divine power?” Maya laughed. “Now you do tread on heretical grounds, mortal.”
“Heresy or no, here I stand,” Trames pointed out again, and Maya’s laughter immediately died off.
“Then what is this greater power, mortal?” Maya demanded, then added in her own thoughts, And how can I obtain it?
“That which neither divine power possesses, but I think both crave in their own way,” Trames said. “It is that which I think both angels and demons possess, but their very act of having it prevents most from knowing it. And it is that greatest power that sets mortals apart, because we not only have it, but we know we have it, and that makes it that much more powerful, should we so choose.”
“Enough prattle, mortal,” Maya snapped.
Trames shook his head sadly. “It’s free will, Maya,” Trames said. “I choose to believe you cannot and will never have power over me, and so you never shall.”
- 2 -
Listen to my words, you know you can. I am free to move, just as you will be in a moment. You’ll understand when you can move, and when you realize you’re free, you’ll know what to do.
The whispered words burned into Birch’s mind, and suddenly he found he could hear and see again. Rather, he realized that had never stopped seeing his surroundings or hearing the words being said, his mind had just been encouraged to reject these sensations. A subtle trick on his mind, but an effective one.
Birch listened in amazement as Trames continued talking to Maya. The Gray paladin was still incapable of motion, so his eyes were locked on the glowing Throne and the unclad angel standing before it.
“I’ve read many history books,” Birch heard Trames say. The old man was out of Birch’s field of vision, but the Gray paladin listened intently as Trames went on to explain his reading and interpretation. Based on what Birch knew from his experience with Kaelus, the old man was correct in his evaluation of the war and its aftermath.
Moreover, Birch read the implied connection Trames was drawing between the Hell of old and the state of modern-day Heaven. Maya was very close to imposing the same dominance of will that Mephistopheles had once used ages ago.
“One King learned his lesson,” Trames said.
But you have not, Birch mentally filled in the unsaid words. An interesting insight. Just who is Trames? Birch wondered.
He listened as the conversation went on. Trames suggested a power greater even than God’s, and Birch was torn between a built-in revulsion and eager anticipation. Every moment of his past, every bit of training and indoctrination he’d received in the Prism rebelled against the idea of a power that could thwart the divine. No mere mortal could overpower an immortal through sheer will.
And yet every fiber in his being screamed, Here! Here is the answer! Here is what you have been searching for your entire life! This is what is missing!
“It’s free will, Maya,” Trames said sadly, and suddenly the universe around Birch warped and altered as hidden knowledge was unlocked in his mind. Time slowed and stretched as he existed in the instant between one heartbeat and the next, and he knew!
I am. I am. I am. I am.
The words pulsed through Birch with the presence of an existence more powerful, more immediate, and infinitely more…existent, was the only word he could grasp to describe the feeling. Whatever he touched had a form of existence so far beyond anything his mind could comprehend, he was the tiniest grain of sand drifting through the infinite ocean of its presence, trying to understand the concept of being wet. It was everywhere at once, and yet it was nowhere. It was the heartbeat of eternity, and so much more.
I am. I am. I am. I am.
Was this God Himself that Birch was experiencing? Had he somehow touched a small part of the divine?
Just as suddenly as it had come upon him, the presence vanished in an instant and Birch was left feeling insignificant and alone. He reached for that feeling again and found a warm blanket of total love and benevolence that wrapped around him so completely he was tempted to let is soothe his pains and banish the nightmares in his mind. And yet, as complete and eternal as that love felt, it was a pale shadow to the overpowering presence he’d just felt.
What was that feeling?
Birch!
His heart beat once. The sound thudded in his ears like a kettle drum, and suddenly Birch was in motion again, his timeless thoughts shoved to the side in the immediacy of Now. His muscles completed the last command given by his mind, and his sword leapt out of its sheath like a thing possessed as his legs lunged forward toward Maya. At his side, Birch was aware of his nephew likewise in motion.
Before them, Maya stared at them in fear and shock. She recovered quickly and waved her hand, and a surge of sheer wi
llpower washed first over Birch then Danner. The attack did little more than warm his chest, however, and Birch’s charge continued unhindered.
“How is this possible?” Maya screamed as she leapt up to stand on the Throne. Her legs were spread with one foot on each golden armrest, and she pressed back against the shining backrest as she stared at the two approaching paladins with naked fear. Birch was unable to discern any further details about the Throne, but then his attention was fixed entirely on the frightened Seraph standing atop it.
“Because we choose it to be, Maya,” Birch rumbled as he and Danner simultaneously slowed to a deliberate walk. He set his foot on the first step leading to the Throne.
“Everything I have done has been for a better world,” Maya protested. “Why should you resist me? I have done only the will of God. The mere fact that I can and have done these things is a sure sign of His approval.”
“Then perhaps this should be a sign that He wills this to be, also,” Birch suggested with a grim smile. The two paladins stepped up to the second step.
“You ordered the slaughter of innocents.” Danner’s blue cloak rippled as he spoke, despite the lack of wind.
“They were needed,” Maya yelled as they pressed on to the third step. “Which is more important, the continued existence of Heaven, or a few paltry mortal lives?”
Birch stared at her a moment, absorbing her rationale.
Beside him, Danner murmured, “A country that’s saved at the expense of every basic principle of liberty isn’t worth living in.”
“What’s that?” Maya demanded.
“Just a lesson I learned during my training,” Danner replied. “A lesson in justice. Perhaps you should consider taking the class, you might learn a thing or two about the virtues you profess to uphold.”
Birch and Danner took another step toward the Throne, then another. Danner’s cloak gleamed a rich, brilliant blue as the light of the Throne touched his shoulders.
Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) Page 28