Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3)

by Brian J Moses

  The path to the Hall of the Throne was open! The battle raged on around him, but a force of childris had cleared a swath of destruction through the ranks of the blessed dead, and now only a single flight of angels stood between Molekh and his goal. He rallied the demons around him and charged forward, eyes locked on the angel leading the final obstruction.

  Uriel and the Archangels stood before Molekh, vastly outnumbered but resolute in their determination to deny him access to the Throne. A battered female Dominion stood to Uriel’s left with Molekh’s severed horn hanging from a steel chain around her neck. Opposite her, on Uriel’s right side, stood an emerald-winged, saffron Seraph, and Molekh was both thrilled and terrified to see Mikal present and ready for battle. Two of the most powerful angels left in Heaven, but they would fall this day like all the rest. Nothing would deny Molekh his prize.

  Molekh grinned at the surging tide of balrogs and drolkuls advancing behind a wave of childris. The Archangels set themselves for battle and waited for the first line of childris to strike. Molekh risked a glance behind him and saw a second wave of demons in his wake. He laughed in malicious pleasure.

  When he turned back, his ferocious grin faded.

  Mikal and Uriel were farther away than they’d been a moment before!

  No, it was a trick, some last desperate ploy to confuse him. Molekh growled and shook his head, but it seemed for every step he took forward, he only got that much farther away from his goal.

  “What angelic trickery is this?” he bellowed. Uriel and the others gaped at Molekh in confusion as he was steady drawn backwards away from them.

  All around him, demons were charging forward, but the buildings were receding quickly as they passed backwards out of the city that was all but theirs. Molekh looked about frantically, trying to identify the source of this new threat, or to break the hallucination he was surely suffering.

  As he passed the outermost edge of the city, Molekh felt something was different in the aura of the immortal plane around him. He turned to look back and nearly screamed in frustration – and in fear. The gray, tainted ground the demons had left in their wake as they advanced through Heaven was gone, and only pure, white, holy ground was left behind.

  Impossible! The ground was an extension of Hell as it overtook Heaven, a physical manifestation of the will of Mephistopheles. The only way for it to suddenly vanish was…

  And then Molekh knew the truth. He no longer felt the will of the demon king, and he knew with sudden certainty that Mephistopheles had been destroyed. With him, however, went the power that had driven Hell forward to reunite with Heaven – without Mephistopheles’s will and power, Hell would be catapulted back to a separate plane of existence.

  The war was over. Molekh screamed in hatred.

  The demon lord gathered all of his power, every last scrap of strength from his āyus, and tried to halt the lightning retreat of the immortal plane, but his power was not that of the demon king. The pristine lands of Heaven sped by as every demon of Hell was drawn back to the immortal plane that was their home.

  Or perhaps not every demon.

  In the distance, Molekh saw a large force of demons standing firm in the middle of a broad plane. He used his gathered power to move closer to them, but still he moved at an oblique angle as the retreating power of Hell pulled him back to the fiery plane of mortal damnation. As Molekh drew nearer the assembled demons, he recognized a handful that stood apart from the rest, and he knew there would be no solace here.

  One demon seemed made of pure Hellfire, another was a massive, multi-headed reptile. A third demon – a naked humanoid with leathery wings – turned and saw Molekh. Their eyes locked for a moment.

  Azazel smirked and bowed mockingly to the bull-headed demon lord. No words were exchanged, but Molekh was painfully aware that whatever choice he’d refused, somehow these demons were untouched by the vacuum of power that drew Molekh inexorably back to Hell. He railed and screamed in rage, but only Azazel seemed aware of his existence.

  Ethereal mountains and lush, green forests raced past Molekh, and he realized they had crossed back into Lokka temporarily. He once again tried to exert his will, thinking that perhaps here – away from the influence of Heaven – he might be able to avoid the drag of Hell, but it was to no avail.

  He looked up once more at Azazel, but the demon prince had turned away. The army of demons moved away slowly, then they became hazy in Molekh’s eyes. When they disappeared entirely as the landscape passed by, he knew they had crossed into the mortal world.

  Molekh turned to face back toward Hell and saw a swirling black whirlpool of nothingness. He recognized that portal, he’d seen it once before, when Pleroma was sundered and Hell was cast into a separate plane of existence. All around him, demons were sucked into the void, and black flames licked the edges hungrily as Molekh drew steadily nearer to the gaping maw of nether.

  “No!” he roared, and the sound echoed back hauntingly as he was consumed by the flame-ringed vortex of black nothingness.

  - 3 -

  When Kaelus set them down in Heaven, he did not take them to Medina as they’d first expected. Instead, he took them to the Iridescent Gates. Garnet opened his eyes and saw rows of neatly lined-up bodies stretched out along the angelstone walls, and his euphoric grin faded quickly at the sight of so many dead comrades. Kaelus had apparently collected the bodies of the humans, elves, and denarae who had died in the harrowing journey through Hell, for Garnet recognized several bodies of men who’d recently died.

  Perklet was in this group somewhere.

  So was Garnet’s father.

  Dead or not, however, Garet appeared a moment later as an angel dropped him out of the sky. The massive Red paladin quickly strode over to embrace his son, and for a long moment, father and son remained silent. Then something crashed into them from either side, and Garnet realized they were under assault from the twins, who did their best to encompass both mountainous men in their own arms.

  Garnet laughed and caught his sister up in a big hug while Garet pulled Brad close. His younger brother had filled out during his training in Heaven, and he was catching up to their father in bulk. Garnet threw Anolla into the air and deftly caught her, then set her down laughing on the pristine white, cloudy ground of Heaven. Garnet hugged his brother, too, but when they parted, he started looking for another face. Brad cleared his throat and looked pointedly behind his older brother.

  “Garnet!” Gerard bellowed from somewhere nearby.

  Before Garnet could respond to his former commander, his feet were swept out from under him, and he crashed back onto the ground with a muffled thud. He looked up into the radiant but determined face of Kala as she gently placed a leather boot on his chest.

  “I think that means ‘stay,’” Anolla quipped.

  Garnet glared at his sister, then jerked in surprise as Kala knelt and straddled his chest. The warrior woman sat on his breastplate and stared at him expectantly.

  “Garnet!” Gerard bellowed.

  “Go to Hell, sir, I’m a little busy,” Garnet yelled back, his voice thick with mirth.

  “I’ve already been there,” Gerard yelled back, closer now. “I’m thinking of having medals made.”

  “Put me down for two,” Garnet managed to get out before Kala put her palm firmly over his lips. He looked up at her in surprise, but her palm was quickly replaced by her lips, and Garnet forgot to care about anything else.

  Somewhere in the world above them, Garnet was vaguely aware of his father talking.

  “Ah, Flasch,” Garet said. “Glad to see you came through safely. I hope you… hey now, see here!”

  Garnet looked past Kala’s head long enough to see that Flasch had ignored Garet and gone straight to Anolla, placed his hands on either side of her head, and was now kissing her very seriously. From the looks of things, Anolla was thrilled with the situation, despite her father’s sputtered protests. Then Kala demanded Garnet’s attention once more, and he lost track of t
he scene playing out overhead.

  Nearby, the other officers from Shadow Company – including Trebor – watched, bemused at their friends’ amorous good fortune.

  “There is an awful lot of kissing going on here, isn’t there?” Marc remarked.

  Danner nodded. “I’m suddenly missing Alicia very much right now.”

  “Must be nice,” Trebor said. “I’m still looking for someone.”

  “You’re dead, Trebor,” Danner said in exasperation. “What could you possibly do with a girlfriend?”

  “It’s the principle of the thing,” he said defensively. “Everyone else seems to have someone to hug and kiss.”

  Michael sighed. Brican glanced at the Yellow paladin.

  Without even turning to face the denarae, Michael said, “You even think about it, Brican, and I’ll tell your wife.”

  “We’re not that hard up, cousin,” Trebor said, trying to keep a straight face.

  “I was going to suggest that there are some rather attractive female angels and blessed souls wandering around here right now,” Brican said blandly, “and that with everyone feeling so generous and happy, even you two might score yourself some snuggles. But,” he shrugged, “just forget I said anything.”

  Michael and Trebor immediately found something important that required their attention in the direction of a large contingent of female angels. Danner poked Marc in the side, leaned closer and murmured, “Is it me, or are we all starting to act a lot like Flasch?”

  “It’s the euphoria,” Marc replied. “Makes everyone act sort of like an idiot, I guess.”

  “Ah, hence the resemblance.”

  - 4 -

  Birch stood alone in a sea of milling angels and mortals, absorbed in his own thoughts. All around him, humans, denarae, elves, and a few halflings rejoiced in collective relief at having survived the impossible war. Angels of every Choir joined in the revelry, and it was a scene of lively celebration – of Life!

  Still, the Gray paladin stood silently. The men he might have spoken with were busy elsewhere, and all the angels with whom he normally associated – and Kaelus as well – had vanished on some mysterious mission. He thought he knew their goal, and he did not envy them the task ahead.

  No more did he envy himself the decision he knew he would soon have to face. As always, the two pillars in his life strained to draw him closer, but moving toward one seemed to inevitably draw him away from the other. Finally, the path he had fought for, bled for, and even died for, did indeed lay ahead of him.

  At his feet, however, another path diverged from the one that carried all his hopes and dreams. On this road lay only duty, devotion, and anguish.

  Birch slowly wandered away from the reveling throng, passed beyond the Iridescent Gates, and stopped at a secluded expanse of the angelstone wall. Trembling, he fell to his knees and stared at the benignly glowing sky overhead.

  “You cannot ask this of me,” Birch whispered. “After all I have done in your name, after all I have faced and endured, how can you ask this of me, Lord?”

  Only silence answered his desperate plea.

  Birch heard soft steps behind him – two pairs of footsteps – but he didn’t turn. One he recognized from years of association, the other he guessed by the weight of the tread.

  “Birch,” Garet said softly.

  Without turning, Birch murmured, “I’m praying, brother.”

  The footsteps stopped.

  “You feel it, too, don’t you?” Gerard said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “You know what we’re being asked to do.”

  Silently, Birch nodded. Gerard knew better than most what was being asked of them all, of Birch especially.

  “I don’t understand, Birch,” Garet said. “I feel… I don’t know. There’s something looming ahead.”

  “It’s a choice, Garet,” Birch replied. He still hadn’t turned to face the two dead, Red paladins. Knowing what he now did about the White paladins and their fates in Hell, it was impossible to keep bitterness from creeping into his voice. “It’s a choice we never should have had to make.”

  - 5 -

  In a remote corner of Medina, in an empyrean virtually untouched by the ravages of the vanished demon horde, Mikal led a small group into a large room occupied by a lone Seraph. The waters of Heaven had never touched this room during the flooding of the city, and no demon had come within a mile of the building it lay within.

  Uriel entered behind Mikal, followed by Kaelus and one of the Dem incarnations. The three angels and the demon faced the lone Seraph, an unclothed female with pink wings and an unfaltering aura of righteousness and superiority that she wore like armor. A small throne stood atop a dais identical in all but scale to the layout in the Hall of the Throne, and she stood before the seat in self-assured defiance.

  “Maya,” Mikal said somberly and without preamble, “we have come to pass judgment on you.”

  “Judgment?” the Seraph laughed. “On the Metatron? This from the one who still consorts with a demon.”

  “We have come to pass judgment on you,” Uriel said stoically, as if the other Seraph had not spoken at all.

  “I stand as witness,” Dem said, “that the judgment be fair, fitting, and just.”

  “I stand as witness,” Kaelus repeated, “that…”

  Maya spat at Kaelus’s feet with an expression of loathing.

  “…that the judgment be fair, fitting, and just,” the demon finished grimly.

  “You cannot pass judgment on me,” Maya said forcefully, trying to project her will on them. Of them all, only Dem might have been susceptible to her influence, but shielded by the others and with his other two incarnations safely elsewhere and beyond her reach, the Dominion just stared at the naked Seraph, untouched by her power.

  Uriel slowly drew his sword from the sheath at his waist and held it to one side, blade pointing toward the vaulted ceiling. The Sword of Light glimmered as flames raced up the edges to engulf the crystalline blade, and the room glowed with the light from the powerful weapon.

  “Maya,” Mikal said, drawing her attention from the flaming sword, “your actions nearly resulted in the destruction of Heaven itself and the extinction of every living thing in existence.”

  “There is no…” she began, but Mikal continued relentlessly.

  “You corrupted the Power Camael and betrayed everything we hold dear in your petty bid to reclaim power by causing the capture and near destruction of the demon Kaelus, then commander of all the Heavenly Hosts.”

  “It is not I who am corrupted…”

  “You tried to dominate the minds and wills of both angels and mortal souls entrusted to our care, subduing their free will in your misguided ploy to inflict a paradise of only your own making on the rest of Heaven,” Mikal said. “Furthermore, you presumed to sit upon the Throne of God and used its powers to advance your own twisted plans. Your ineptitude can be forgiven, but your willful treachery and sin leave no doubt in our minds as to the nature of your punishment.”

  Maya stayed silent and stared at Uriel’s sword in growing apprehension.

  “I gave Camael a choice,” Uriel said quietly, “and he took what was arguably the most difficult path of those offered. Still, his fate will pale in comparison with yours, Maya. I promised him you would face justice, and I’m here to carry through that vow.”

  “Have you come to kill me, Uriel?” Maya said disdainfully, unknowingly echoing in arrogance the question Camael had put to him in contrition. Her sneering expression was marred by the fear evident in her body and face. “Will you strike me down as the Angel of Death as you once did Alanna, the sinful Archangel?”

  Uriel shook his head.

  “Your actions do not deserve death,” he declared solemnly. “When we enact the wrath of God’s punishment, it must ever fit the nature of the crime, lest we stray into the realm of sin and vice, destroying the very justice we seek.”

  Maya bared her teeth in triumph, but the expression quickly faded as she s
tared at their grim faces. She drew back from them and sat in her small throne with as much dignity and assurance as she could muster.

  “What is to be my fate?” she asked, unable to mask a tremor in her voice.

  “Anathematization,” Mikal answered.

  Maya stared at him in shock. “You can’t,” she whispered. “You can’t.”

  Mikal and Uriel joined hands and murmured words no angel had ever thought to hear in the whole span of existence. The sentence they passed had never before been contemplated, and it would never again be imposed on another heavenly being unto the end of time. It was indeed a fate worse than mere death.

  Even Kaelus had to firm his resolve to see through the fate they imposed on Maya. It was only by keeping firmly in mind all she had done, all she hoped to do, and all she still was that he maintained the will not to interfere at the last moment.

  “You can’t,” Maya gibbered again in terror. Her eyes darted about frantically, seeking some escape, but the curse being pronounced upon her held the Seraph fast. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.”

  Mikal and Uriel finished intoning their dreadful sentence and stared resolutely at Maya.

  “You can’t do this!” she shrieked. “You can’t send me to Hell!”

  Uriel let go of Mikal’s hand, stepped forward, and raised his flaming sword high over Maya’s head. The Anathematization curse bound the victim with only one avenue of escape – through the void of nether and into the infernal plane of Hell. Still, they could not force her out of Heaven without her cooperation, even unwilling as it was. As the Sword of Light raced down to Maya’s neck, her instinct of self-preservation overrode all other options and – aided by the power of the curse laid on her – Maya screamed in horror and vanished from sight an instant before Uriel’s sword sliced through her throne.