by Han, George
Mathew put on the glasses again, and removed them.
“They are growing.”
Maganus studied the landscape environment with his naked eyes. “Mathew is right – it is a blanket of smoldering demonic presence.” He bit his lips as eyes rolled to Father Bellator and grumbled “This no longer looks one bit like the Delaware Reserves. More like the wastelands of central Europe during the Dark Ages.”
Maganus lit his pipe and said the grave tone of a ready warrior, “I suspect the Demons had already cordoned off this area and transformed the entire forest into the Diabolus Pulvis.”
“Diabolus Pulvis—Demons Arena,” Bellator explained to the siblings.
Maganus wolf-whistled and within moments later, the snowy-white Marz appeared. “My friend, it is Diabolus Pulvis. We are under siege. You must find Gwyneth. Do you have the powers to maneuver through the darkness?”
The snow wolf howled and nodded. Within seconds, it sped into the woods.
“Gwyneth?” Mathew asked.
“An Angel who had watched over you ever since you were a child.”
The siblings exchanged looks.
“We had never seen her.”
“Angels are not supposed to manifest themselves to their charges, Mathew. These circumstances in which you can see me are unique. The Demons are in a rampage.”
“In your moment of misfortune, they have watched over you. You do not walk alone, Mathew.” Father Bellator explained “Do not despair. What you had experienced was all part of the journey to groom you. All Kings of Men have experienced the same process, the same steps, in one way or the other.”
“Adversity is a good teacher?” Mathew sniggered “They always taught that in school but I had a raw deal from life and now we are stuck in this…”
“A story might help,” Maganus explained as they began their journey. “At the start of the last century, I had the mandate to protect and guide a King. He was an inspiring figure, young and charismatic. Despite his talents, and success in life, he was humane. He had his foibles, but he was fine man destined for a greater things. Then the Demons found him.”
Mathew took a deep breath.
“We thought he was in a fine position, strong and gifted and failed to take any precaution against the lurking Demons. They came and they took his health, and in no time he was down with polio and the rest is history. That is what I call a setback.”
Mathew considered the story for a moment, “That King was President Franklin Roosevelt?”
“You know your history well, Matt.” Maganus winked and guffawed. “Roosevelt never saw his physical handicap as a tragedy. It would have handicapped a mortal but not one destined to lead. Roosevelt was a strong King, too strong to be undermined by the Demons. He had the free will, the desire to shape his destiny, and that of his fellow human beings. His will overcame all adversities. His disability was nothing. Nothing” Maganus was emphatic.
“All great men seem to have their tragedies.” Mathew said.
“You will learn well. Misfortunes are designed to bring forth the positives, which are otherwise just buried gems in your soul. Mathew. Civilization progressed because the Kings were well-prepared by the adversities in their lives. Imagine if they have falter in the face of challenges, then the entire human race would have failed. Your hardships are nothing.”
“Are the Demons so intimidating?”
“They have inflicted terrible losses on the human race. You have witnessed their prowess in the last few days. Some of their attacks were well known, like the sad end of Julius Caesar. Some deaths will never be known; the details were obliterated from the annals of history because nobody lived to write them down.”
Mathew shook his head.
“Their deaths are never recorded because these potential Kings had yet to attain prominence and died as ordinary humans. Only us Angels, and those Demons, will know the significance of those individuals. There are subtle incidents which became obvious with focused thought.” Maganus patted Matt on the shoulder like a comforting elder. “History is a result of this never-ending tussle between Angels and Demons, and the Kings. The glorious ages are pages written when we are in victory, and the dark moments of history…belonged to the demons. We need you to help us write another page of glory.”
“We are ordinary people, Maganus.” Sarah interrupted.
“Mathew, Sarah, the annals of history is inked with blood and sweat, every story framed by courage; and every page is turned with immense sacrifice. They are forged by the hearts and souls of ordinary men and women, living and dead, who believed in their destiny and fought the dark side. Both of you have a chance to participate in history. Honour or burden, it is a matter of choice. In this current battle, the Demons have already taken down a number of Kings of Men. We need you to rise up to the occasion. Remember, nothing can overcome your free will.” Maganus continued.
“Free will,” Mathew said.
“Free will is sacred, Mathew. Demons deploy temptations to seduce men and enslave their souls. Sometime Kings are forced by circumstances to act in ways against the interest of their race and, thus, they advance the cause of the Demons. Demons are strongest when men are frail and weakest. Their strength feeds on the dark desires of men—greed, fear, and pride. The Demons fail when men are enlightened to be guided by their own free will. That grisly determination to set their own course in life and shape their own destiny is the best weapon against the Demons. Free will, Mathew. Remember.”
Mathew trekked on and said nothing.
Behind him, Maganus studied with deep concern. Despite his physical strength, he carried a brooding streak that hich might make him vulnerable. Sarah was quite different; beneath the façade of fragility, she exhibited a quiet strength and serenity—unusual for a ten-year-old.
Maganus turned to the girl.
“Sarah, you need rest.”
Sarah smiled. “Maganus, I can’t sleep.”
“You have been a brave girl, Sarah. I know all these things have been too fast and too much, but we will get out safe.”
“I just hope we can leave this forest.”
Maganus stroked his beard. “Trust me. I promised.”
“I wish you were here earlier. My Grandpa might have lived.”
Maganus’s smoking pipe had died and he relit it. The breeze had picked up, a much welcome respite from the oppressive silence of void. Maganus knew he had to face the direct question.
“Sarah, I am sorry.”
Sarah’s features softened. “I am glad you came. We could all be dead if you did not. Thank you.”
Maganus winked.
“Can I see your wings?” Sarah quizzed
Maganus chuckled. “Not again, Sarah. My powers became finite the moment I entered your arena. I can only use my wings with discretion.
“Then I can’t see them?”
“Well, I …”
Maganus failed to finish his sentence as Father Bellator’s cry for attention seized his attention.
Chapter 22
Temptation of the Soul
Victor felt manipulated like a puppet as the encounter with Joe Bianca rolled on, but he said nothing as Joe introduced Boris Komorov.
“Mr. Komorov, my pleasure.”
“Mr. Senator, mine as well.”
“You speak good English.”
“I spent a decade in London.”
“For education?”
“No. I am educated in Russia, but I spent time in the west for business. My wife is English.”
“Impressive. I hope she is well.”
“Yes. A paradoxical character as she voted for Labour but at the same time supports the U.S. Republicans.”
“Paradoxical? Then she is normal, like all wives.”
The laughter broke the ice.
Joe interrupted. “Mr. Komorov has always admired the Senator on his stand on Middle East and South Asia.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Victor said. “What businesses does Mr. Komorov run?�
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“Minerals to food, property to manufacturing, I am in all them,” Komorov said.
Victor smiled. “An extensive portfolio. However, I am not a businessman. How do you think I can possibly help you, Mr. Komorov?”
“Mr. Senator, I came not for business. I came for the politics.”
“Politics?”
“I am not interested in American politics. Your brand of politics can only be managed by talents like you. I am talking about Russia.”
Victor eyed the man warily. “I cannot offer any assistance of value when it comes to Russian politics. You have the wrong person.” Victor fidgeted and rose to his feet, but Komorov continued. “Senator, please be seated.”
”Mr. Komorov, you do not walk in here uninvited and—”
“Senator, you can help a great deal,” the Russian said and smiled.
“No. Mr. Komorov, you might have chosen the wrong candidate. Your domestic politics is an area beyond me.” Victor glanced at Joey.
“Power is built on many sources. Senator. You command a key resource that will be of immense help.”
Victor did not respond.
“You are chairman of an important subcommittee. You are a senior member of the party. Some say you are interested in the White House. No?”
“I don’t like ambiguity,” the senator replied.
Komorov sniggered. “Ambiguity reduces the strain of life.”
“What is your point?”
“Have you answered my question? You may or may not have heard of the Russian Liberation Party.”
Victor shook his head.
“I am a member of the party. We will be contesting the next general elections.” Komorov winked. “We, I, all of us, plan to win.”
“That’s a common dream for politicians, Mr. Komorov. Many times that aspiration is misplaced.”
Komorov shrugged. “I will win power.”
“Look! If you expect to leverage me financially or through my connections, you are wrong. Damn wrong! I am a member of the Senate of the United States of …”
“I do not need your money, Senator.” Komorov smiled. “I came in search for an ally, a friend.”
“An ally? I can’t fix your elections, Mr. Komorov!”
“That is not what I want.”
Victor shuffled in his seat. “You want my support in the committee?” He snorted in disdain “Maybe you are new to our political system, but we do not conduct our foreign policy with Russia based on one individual. My singular support, if it ever was forthcoming, is useless. Moreover, Mr. Komorov, presently the United States shares a cordial relationship with Mr. Putin.”
The comment drew a sly smile from Komorov.
“Mr. Putin has not been the same since his reelection to the presidency. Maybe he is older. Maybe he is more cautious? But he is definitely more dictatorial, Mr. Palmer.”
“You will be less dictatorial if your party wins? Whatever Putin may be, even if he is a threat, at least we are familiar with him.”
“After the recent missile defense shield deployment in Romania and Turkey, you cannot be naïve to assume the trust level was not compromised. The hostility is lurking and very real. As you work to groom democratic forces in the countries around Russia, the Russians are working just as hard to neutralize these threats.”
Victor stared into Komorov’s eyes “At least he is the devil he know and not the uncertain deep blue sea.”
Komorov leaned forward and continued “Senator Palmer, imagine this—a friendlier Russia, a powerful Russia managed by your friends. Would that not be ideal?”
“You want to be president?”
“We are all encouraged to dream. Did your presidents not always like to talk about the American Dream? I would like a Russian Dream, too.”
Victor sniggered “I don’t manufacture Russian dreams.”
“Mr. Senator, I am sure you would like to leave your mark in foreign policy. Domestic politics is not your forte.”
Victor shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Boris seemed undeterred by his curt remarks.
“One day you want to be president. No?”
Victor picked a glass and sipped.
“That’s the second time you ask.”
“So it is true.” Boris asserted.
“The future is tricky. Maybe
“I don’t expect maybes from a future president,” Komorov said.
Victor put down his glass. “You are quite a pusher, aren’t you?”
“I simply wish to contribute. I am sure you are well aware of your own strengths. However, if that day should come, I am sure the future President of the United States hopes to have a friendly Russia.”
Komorov cranked his neck and gesticulated. “Together we can construct a new era.”
Victor applauded. “Very impressive rhetoric.”
“I am learning from the best. You are a great speaker in the Senate.”
“You done your research but I am not someone who jumps into a dark pool whenever I had nothing better to do.”
“Caution is good. A great leader usually is a careful one.”
Victor stood to his full height. “I’ve had quite enough to drink. Help yourself if you need more.” It was a veiled dismissal.
“Mr. Palmer, thank you for your hospitality. I am sure it is only fair that you think about my proposition. It offers an opportunity to shape the new world.”
Victor smiled. “I have little interest in your agenda but I wish you well.”
“The future is ours, Senator! If you find courage to take the first step and ...”
Victor kept a straight face and began to turn away.
Boris Komorov spoke aloud to Joe. “Mr. Victor is in a hurry? Is it because of Maxi Oil?”
Victor stopped. “What was that?”
Komorov stood and flashed a confident smile. “You’re losing sleep over Maxi Oil?”
Victor inhaled and struggled to ensure his wild anxiety did not show on his face.
“I can handle that, Mr. Boris.”
“You invested about forty million in the company, and if the lawsuit goes against you, you end up with half-a-billion in liabilities.”
Victor’s jumped to his feet. “What is it that you want?”
“I came with good intentions. I would like to offer a deal.” Boris explained.
Victor’s deep breathing was audible in the silent room. After a long moment, he spoke. “A deal?”
“Breathe easy my friend,” the Russian said. “I am here to strike a deal for the future. I am not here to hurt you, Victor.” Boris smiled and helped himself to another martin.
“How can you help?” Victor asked.
“I can solve your problems and help you realize your dreams. You are so promising. You must run for president.”
Victor felt a little heady.
“I smell fear in you.” Boris was cool and crisp.” Please relax. We can collaborate. There are such synergies.”
Palmer sensed the hook in Komorov’s words. He shut it out. He bit it.
“What do you want me to do? Sell my country? You might as well shoot me now!”
“Come on. You don’t have to sell the country. We are all patriots. We love our countries.”
Victor clenched his fists. “Come clean with it, Mr. Komorov.”
“Being in the White House is your teenage dream, Victor. You wrote to your father.”
Victor was taken aback. How did the Russian know? I’ve never told anybody.
“I want a friendship, as I explained,” Boris Komorov continued, toying with his glass of red wine.
“Friendship cannot be wanted, it has to be built. I am not interesting in selling friendship.” Palmer spoke.
“Mr. Senator, I have to remind you great enterprise can only be accomplished with courage to take risk. You got to make a bold move to be the United States President.”
Victor wondered “Am I negotiating with the devil?” His eyes scanned the Russian. He could see a dirty deal being of
fered to him on an outstretched hand, and probably a pair of horns on the Russian’s head.
“Your silence is consent for me to elaborate.” Boris was cocky and continued
“I want your support in the coming elections. America has to support my party, one way or the other. We can work on this.”
“You can buy outcomes with your wealth.”
“I can buy the entire Dumas, but that would be too dangerous. If the president senses his hold on power is threatened, that will be the end of everything.”
“I can be helpful?”
“Your presence will lend the legitimacy. You know congressmen, and you control a caucus. For all your assistance I will settle the legal suit for you, and with that, the hundreds of millions of possible damages.”
“You think this is payment for services?”
“No. Just a gesture of friendship.”
Boris Komorov’s enticing voice resonated through the study room like a slippery serpent that slithered round Victor and kept his chest tight and heart pulsating.
He mulled the Russian’s offer and in a split second voiced his decision.
“I regret to say that your visit has been in vain. I can’t give you the friendship you want.”
He stood and headed for the door.
“Senator, you only have one chance.”
Victor stopped and clenched his fist.
Chapter 23
Mounting Troubles
The Guardian Angel responded Father Bellator’s cries and found him racing towards a real and stark threat. The menace was not immediately visible, but Maganus’s sharp senses picked up the presence of Demons. He took the cue from the Bellator’s wary glance and gauged the location of the lurking danger. It was a ball of fluid darkness, and Mathew was just next to it.
As Maganus raced over, the youth was abruptly pinned to the ground by a violent force. Matthew yelped as slices of red appeared on his shielding arm. The Guardian Angel raised his hands over the boy and cried his prayers. An umbrella of light fell over Mathew, and the illumination brought Mathew’s attacker into form, inch by inch.
The Angel watched agape as a three-headed canine—the Cerberus, guardian of the gates to Hell, materialized in full pouncing rage with rage-inducing eyes. The demonic beast was guardian of the gates of the underworld. It must be Raum who brought them to earth!