Thornfalcon (The ARC Legacy Book 1)

by Matthew W. Harrill

  “The fallen? Like Satan?”

  “Yes,” Io replied, forestalling Samantha from leaping to the defence of her father. “His role was created as a response to the princes who forsook Heaven. I believe, however, that events surrounding my fallen brother have taken a complicated turn.”

  “What do you know about what lies beyond Hell?” Swanson leaned forward, eager for an answer.

  “I have no knowledge,” Io admitted. “It was not my mission to hunt fallen, nor comprehend the meaning of their choice and destination.”

  “And yet, you're here,” Swanson threw back at him.

  “I was shot out of Heaven by a beam of energy from your creation. When that happened, I fell, though not by choice. To Karael, I am a fallen angel and his mission is to end me. I have been saved twice by technology you have developed.”

  Swanson looked to Eva. “Helltech? It was supposed to be on lockdown.”

  “My fault again,” Eva interjected. “I allowed Clare and her team to trial the tech. I stand by that decision only because without it, my younger daughter wouldn't be standing here with us today.”

  “Eva the hero,” Thorsten Guyomard said, his tone deeply cynical. “Not exactly the villain Benedict Garias was, but you don't appear to have covered yourself in glory taking on his role. And what about your daughter, here?”

  “What about me?” Samantha took a step forward. “I came here seeking answers.”

  “And here you shall get them,” John Wolverton intervened, preventing Thorsten from unleashing more invective. “But please, Samantha, tell us of your story first.”

  “Briefly?”

  John smiled. “Succinctly.”

  Here goes, Samantha thought.

  “After Hunter's Ridge, I went to the devastation of Dubrovnik against my will to help, and was almost assaulted by the man who ran the cult in which I participated. I was saved by Io.

  “We then found that an ancient method of divination that worked a little too well on Io, bringing down the angel Karael on our position.

  “After finding secret notes in the book of divination, we travelled to Papua New Guinea to find the origin of the book. We were captured by Aeon Fall, met Porter Rockwell and were saved by a student who had some ancient navigations translated into GPS coordinates.

  “We escaped Aeon Fall and using the directions, found a lost tribe in the jungle who had the companion book to my own. We called down crows as a method of divination and Karael appeared again. I summoned my dad to distract Karael and the angel fell in an avalanche, as did the girl who helped us. And then we came here.” She took a deep breath. “I think that covers everything.”

  “Except that massive parts of your story were a set-up.” Swanson shuffled through some papers. “The girl you knew as Adreana Black was no student at the Pacific Adventist University.” He slid a photo across the table.

  Samantha stepped forward. 'Adreana' stood proudly at the right hand of none other than Porter Rockwell himself. “I thought she was an imposter,” Samantha stated. “Adreana was just a little bit too mysterious to be genuine. Not at first, mind you. She was nothing but helpful. Later on, her behaviour appeared a bit forced. I started to have doubts when she insisted upon Io having his fortune deciphered by the crows.”

  “And yet, you allowed this to happen?” The question came from Clare.

  “What was I supposed to do? We were in the middle of the jungle surrounded by hunters, many of who appeared less than cordial toward us. How were we to know what we were walking into?”

  “That's a child's answer,” Swanson spat. “Take responsibility for your actions.”

  The jungle felt a million miles away at this moment. “Okay. I should have refused point blank to even try. Io and I thought that between his strength and the ARC gun I carried, we could deal with Karael. Adreana appeared to know nothing about the gun. Her only familiarity with the technology was undoing the lock on Io's cuffs with a key.”

  “Would it surprise you to learn the coordinates she had you follow were entirely fictitious?”

  The question caught Samantha off guard. “You know this how?”

  Swanson pressed a button on a control in front of him; the wooden panelling behind him, split apart, revealing a screen. A map appeared, pale brown land on the blue sea, like a weather map. A series of red dots connected over the United Kingdom. “We got to work checking the lunar navigation as soon as you sent the numbers through. They don't relate to anywhere in the Pacific.”

  “But we were there. The second book? The hidden numbers?

  “The book may be real, but Adreana Black translated no navigation entries. These numbers point to an area in the south-west of the United Kingdom, near a town called Taunton. We also have records of repeated flights into the region where you were led. Someone was flying in supplies to that area monthly. The name we found logged at the airport was Vaitai. Does this name mean anything to you?”

  Samantha stepped back, deflated. “That was the name of the bookshop owner at the university. Adreana said his store was set on fire by anarchists.”

  “More likely she was covering her own tracks.”

  “The tribal elder said they were given supplies of a narcotic bean that helped them expand their consciousness and read the signs. The bean didn't grow in the highlands but could have been sourced from just about anywhere else in the country.” It all clicked. Samantha gasped and turned to Io. “It's you. This wasn't about a simple kidnap. It was about you.”

  “Explain,” Swanson requested.

  “If Adreana Black is Aeon Fall, and they are hell bent on exposing and bringing down ARC, why did they let us go? They had perfect leverage in keeping us locked away, hidden. Yet they hold us in a building that's an obvious target, send in one of their own to release us, and aid in our escape. They keep us away from a rescue by masking it as a perceived threat to our safety. And I fell for it, book line, and sinker.”

  A few people chuckled.

  Samantha struggled, as well, not to laugh at her pun. She continued, stone-faced, “When I first met Io, he was confused, had no idea who he was. Karael confirmed this. He was actually a little disappointed Io wasn't at full strength. He voiced the same opinion when we met the second time. He wanted Io at full-strength so he could do something to him. But what?”

  “He did appear to go down a little easily in Dubrovnik,” Clare admitted. “He was well armed, ridiculously strong. He seemed to want you to escape. As if you weren't quite ready. Ioviel, what weren't you quite ready for?”

  “Do you have the sword taken from Karael in the ruined city?” Io asked.

  “Mark, if you please?” Swanson turned to one of the lab-coated scientists, Mark Sellick, a bearded man Samantha knew, who stood behind Eva.

  Mark nodded, placing a locked security case, a metre or so in length, on the table. Two twists of a key and the case flipped open. Inside, resting on a cushion of sponge fashioned exactly for this weapon, was the sword.

  Io leaned forward.

  Mark snapped the case closed, watching Io.

  “The question you have to ask yourself, Swanson Guyomard, descendent of Jerome, is 'Do I trust this man with this sword?' ”

  “I thought you were an angel, Io” Swanson replied.

  “To you, until I pick up this blade, I am a man who may make bold claims, who has luckily survived encounters with a real angel. Do you trust me?”

  “It's not for me to say. Samantha, it's your decision to make. He's your charge. Prove to us that we are right to give you this responsibility.”

  Samantha felt a swell of pride. Despite everything, the admission of guilt by her mother, the crazy antics, the wild goose chase, they were still capable of allowing her the space to grow. She could taste the cynicism in the room. Io needed his chance. She stroked Io's rock-solid shoulder. “Io, take up the blade. I believe in you. I have faith in you.”

  Io reached out, his hand hesitant.

  “Take it,” she urged.

&nb
sp; His hand hovered above the blade for a second. A hum began to sound on the table. The case vibrated, twisting slowly clockwise as the hilt moved closer to him. It seemed to Samantha as though the sword wanted to be taken. Waiting just a moment longer, Io reached into the case and grabbed the sword by the hilt, raising it aloft.

  The hum grew in intensity and Samantha and others had to cover their ears. Shimmering at first, the blade was now a blinding white. Samantha turned her head, closed her eyes, and with hands over her ears, she could nonetheless feel the presence of another being in the room—one beyond the ability of mortal comprehension. Yet she turned to behold him. Ioviel. Angel, floating in the air on wings of purest white that glowed with a radiance that spoke of a purity mankind had never known. His true form finally unveiled.

  He stared back at her, and then at the sword glowing in his hand, saying “This should not be possible.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The glow faded. Io stood as before, wingless, human, dressed in a torn tee shirt and the slacks he had been wearing the day he had found her.

  “You want to tell us what the little light show there was?” John Wolverton was on his feet, ready to pounce, although not as quickly as he was in his younger years.

  Samantha stepped to Io's side, placing a hand on his arm. She would lead here. “It's okay Io. You're safe here.”.”

  Io gave her a quizzical look and turned to the council. “I believe the metaphysical change I just underwent belies any rational explanation. Wasn't it obvious that my powers were restored? The sword is a conduit to the power of souls. I drew on that energy and regained abilities beyond those you would consider explainable.”

  “You're saying that you are now you a match for this Karael?”

  “Almost.” Io laid the sword back in the security box. “I believe you will want to keep that.”

  Swanson chuckled. “It hardly seems we would be capable of stopping you should you decide to claim it permanently.”

  Io grinned back. “True. But there is an item in this castle that I desire more.” He looked around the table of ARC heads. “You were there,” he said as he pointed at John, “as were you, and you.” Forrest Kyle and Gila Byron were singled out in quick succession. Io turned to Eva. “You were closest to my brother as he fell. Tell me of Metatron's fall.”

  “We decided long ago to keep such matters in the past,” Eva warned.

  Samantha arched her back, immediately wanting to jump across the table and throttle her mother. How could she remain so obtuse despite her recent admission of fault? She settled for glaring at her instead, and for a moment she caught her mother's eye.

  “That being said, Swanson, my fellow directors, you all have a record of our time spent with the man known as Janus. His exploits saved my life several times. His last intervention cost him his life and allowed us to rescue Nina. We were atop the citadel in a great mountain city called Forente-Lautus. A false signal tracing Nina led us there. We were trapped and he placed himself between a being known as Exerrocks and us, formerly the demon Belphegor, taken by the ice and reborn. We escaped, losing several of our team. As we were about to leave the city, a light shot out from the citadel above. It arced downwards, plummeting at incredible speed until—”

  “Until it hit the ground, doing incredible damage,” Samantha completed for her mother. “Io, what does that mean to you?”

  “This entity wasn't trying to kill Metatron. It was trying to convert him, to make him fall. He was part of the way there. What happened after?”

  “We rescued him from the impact crater. He was impossibly heavy. Dense might seem a better word. There was a lot more than a human body to him. Once we took off he whispered a few words. He told me he was my friend and that his name was really Metatron. Then he turned to ash.” Eva was now teary, her voice thickened as she added, “He just disintegrated there in my arms.”

  “The ashes of a righteous angel, killed defending others,” Io said. “What did you do with them?”

  “I gathered as much as I could and took them with me. I had one feather from his wings.”

  Io's face grew intent. “Was it black?”

  Eva nodded, afraid to speak.

  “Is that significant?” Samantha asked.

  “It is the key to his divinity, his essence. Father placed a black feather in each of us. It is the source from which our abilities stem.”

  “Father? You mean God?” Tricia Pelirrojo was clearly very caught up in the story.

  “I do. Eva Scott, you still have those ashes, do you not?”

  “How do you know?” Her mother turned to her, ready to accuse.

  “I felt them when I touched the sword. It's hard to not notice another angel nearby when I held onto such power.”

  “Karael?”

  Io shook his head. “Bound into a host, he will only come when summoned. I believe my death at his hands is the intent of others, and the ultimate outcome of their goals. They would not need me if they had Metatron's ashes, for they are one of the two ingredients of a Phaethon stone.”

  “What's a Phaethon stone?” asked Swanson.

  “A way back into heaven,” Samantha replied.

  “Well can't you just … you know … whoosh?” Swanson spread his arms, imitating a bird's wings.

  “Alas I have no wings,” Io turned his head to look over his shoulder.

  “But this black feather?”

  “I wish it were as simple as inserting a feather, Swanson Guyomard. There is a place in Heaven where angels are born made by our Father in the Angelforge. One cannot do such a thing alone. Your beam caused me to fall but I can't regain my wings on earth without considerable power. The only way back is through the use of the Phaethon stone. It makes a doorway, one, which I believe others want to exploit. Tell me, what do you know of the angel Metatron?”

  “The scribe,” Alexander Steadman said. “The voice of God, communicating His will because Gods voice is too much for lesser beings to hear.”

  “The scribe part is true,” Io admitted. “The second part is more of a metaphor. Metatron was a conduit for prayers, and prayers being answered. When his spark was extinguished, the conduit vanished. Heaven ceased receiving prayer, and those worthy of reply were never heard.”

  “Your God is dead.” Jeanette Gibson, normally a vocal force at Council meetings, spoke up. She grabbed Swanson's control and pointed to the screen. A series of Aeon Fall propaganda posters began to cycle across the screen. “You're saying Aeon Fall know this as well? Are you saying this is all a set up?”

  “Porter was there when Metatron died. He saw what happened, knew I took the feather and ashes.” All turned to Eva. “What was it Karael said, Io? That you weren't ready?”

  “Those were indeed his words.”

  Eva stood. “Swanson, Gila, John, Forrest. Would the four of you please join my daughter, Ioviel, and me in my quarters? The rest of you will have to beg my indulgence. I'll fill you in when we're done.”

  Without waiting, Eva left the room.

  Samantha followed, Io on her tail. “What are you doing, Mom?”

  “The honourable thing, sweetie. I'm no better than Benedict Garias, whatever my intent. I wanted a portal to reach your father. John Myhill wanted to tap the soul energy that powers everything in Hell. When we found out his intent, I had him thrown off the team, and he walked straight into the arms of Aeon Fall. I made a promise to my friend Janus, whoever he really was. If this is restitution to any degree, then it's a start. Heaven needs to know of his fall. He asked if ever I had the chance to pass on word of his fate that I should do so. I never thought the opportunity would present itself.”

  They passed along stone hallways carved from the bedrock beneath the headland, made habitable with underfloor heating and atmospheric lighting that emitted a permanent soft glow. The musty smell was suppressed by air conditioning, but it was never quite gone, a reminder they were essentially living in a hole.

  After the brief walk, Eva stopped. “
I make no excuse for anything you may see.” She turned back and opened the door to her chamber. “Please, won't you come in?”

  The room was dark, the lighting muted by an excess of art all over the walls. The wall above her mother's bed was covered from end to end with a giant mural depicting the earth surrounded by a double helix of blue gas.

  “You didn't know about this?” Io asked in hushed tones.

  “Mom always came to us, stayed with us,” Samantha answered. “I've never been in here before.”

  “The view of earth from Hell,” John Wolverton said, admiring the mural. “Eva, that's stunning. Now I know what you spent all those hours doing apart from everybody else. I never knew you could paint.”

  “I've had a lot of time to learn. Ioviel, do you recognise this view?”

  “I do,” Io replied. “In what you have painted as a nebulous gas around the earth, I see as the countless souls on their way to Heaven. Your representation is nevertheless accurate. How did you come to see this?”

  “It is what you see when looking up from Hell,” Forrest Kyle, who until now had been content to observe, spoke up. “I understood it to be part of their perpetual torment, an eternity of being able to see the earth, yet never within reach.”

  Samantha noted the haunted look on his face.

  John placed his hand on Forrest's shoulder. “We all lost someone close to us on that mission, Son.”

  “That was the inspiration for the sky sling,” Eva said, her eyes lost in the picture. “Were it not for my girls, I'd have found a more permanent solution to finding Madden. It might have been Hell but there was a beauty there to be found beyond anything on Earth.”

  Samantha crossed the room to a frame containing a t-shirt. “Daddy rules,” she read aloud.

  “Your t-shirt from New York, Sammy. It was only a few years after the mission and Nina wanted to see the Manhattan Henge, where the sun sets exactly in the middle of the East-West streets of New York. She always had a proclivity for seeing the unusual in the mundane. It probably never occurred to most people what occurred around them. Most people reacted to us with amusement, a few older citizens with scorn. The rest ignored us. People have all sorts of weird slogans on shirts nowadays.”