Herald

by J Edwards Stone

  A large male with shoulders that looked like they belonged on a football field approached us. I recognized him from the evening he, Tristan, and Iris had found me in the warehouse district. I smiled at him but stopped short when I saw his expression. He was angry.

  “Guess you don’t care about what happened to Iris,” he nearly snarled, his metallic eyes flashing. I frowned as an uncomfortable anxiety rose in my chest. I had nearly forgotten what Iris had done. I knew I should be angry, given the fact she literally kicked me off a huge cliff, but I believed her later when she said she never meant harm and that she would have caught up with me if she hadn’t been pushed out of the way. Had the result been different, I may have felt differently. As it stood though, she had helped me find the greatest joy I’d ever known.

  “Greyson, give it a rest,” Chase said, standing in front of me protectively. I pushed him aside, not wanting him to interfere. I felt Greyson was very upset for someone I knew to be a friend, and I didn’t want to dismiss him so easily. I wanted to acknowledge his emotions, which in my mind were valid.

  “Are you part of her team?” I asked in quiet tones.

  “You mean was I part of her team?” he growled, and I frowned again.

  “I don’t want her to be punished, Greyson,” I said softly. “I’m not happy about what she did. I understand her anger about what happened to Patrick. If I could take it back, if I could do something to change the past, I would. But I can’t. I’m so sorry that it happened the way it did.

  But if you’ll recall, I wasn’t exactly a willing participant that night.”

  Greyson regarded me for a moment, still angry, but somewhat less so. He sighed as well.

  “I know that, I guess. I’m sorry. It’s just hard to accept Patrick’s death,” he said, the harshness of his voice no longer present. “He was my friend too. And Iris. . .Iris has been my team leader for a long time. She’s done a lot of good for our movement. It just doesn’t seem fair that she’s being punished.” He sighed again. “Though I admit what she did was pretty crappy, no matter what her intentions.”

  “I understand,” I said, walking closer to Greyson and looking him in the eyes. “I promise you, the next time I see Michael I will make the pitch on her behalf, okay? I will do whatever I can to help.”

  “Yeah, with your good buddy Michael.” I turned, not recognizing the owner if this voice. A woman, long black hair and a piercing in her nose, was regarding me with a look of pure distaste. I turned away, ignoring her.

  “I said I’ll do what I can,” I said tightly, closing my eyes and pushing my way through the crowd.

  As I walked, Chase stayed close behind me. Others spoke to me in warm greetings, some calling me Herald, others merely speaking words of support. I smiled at each of them as I passed, grateful for their warmth after the exchange with Greyson and that unpleasant woman.

  “Greyson and Patrick were good buddies, but that’s what happens when you’re on a team for a long time. You have to have each other’s backs, always, because Azrael’s group are really vicious. They are trained to hate. It’s really sad. If we could get to them first, before they get brainwashed,” he trailed off, looking sad suddenly. I said nothing, knowing there was nothing to say. “Anyway, don’t worry about Iris and those guys. It will sort itself out, and they’ll all get over it. It was a tough night.” I only nodded, understanding.

  Chase and I walked slowly up the path towards the Great Hall together, chatting quietly. It was such a welcome relief to speak to someone I could have been friends with in my human life. The normalcy of it was very comforting. Chase told me about himself – how he grew up on a farm, and I smiled at the thought. It didn’t surprise me, as I could imagine him with overalls and a pitchfork, stacking bales of hay – his red hair matching a red checkered shirt. I finally told him of my friends, Kaila and Gee, and how much I missed them. He rubbed my shoulder comfortingly, telling me he understood. Speaking about them in that moment was suddenly cathartic, and didn’t elicit the extraordinary pain associated with their memory. It was the most relaxed I’d felt since I’d arrived at the Citadel, and I was grateful. I smiled back easily at Chase when he looked at me.

  We passed the medical bay just as an Awakening team was arriving back, a large vessel holding a young vessel in his arms. The new one was trembling with fever, nearly oblivious to what was happening. His wings hung limply below him, giving the odd twitch. They carried him into the bay for tending, and I felt very sad again at the sight. I remembered the pain of the emergence of my wings, and I felt momentarily guilty that despite the unpleasantness I had gone through, it had been very short in duration. The others experienced true suffering.

  We arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall and passed through, intending to go to the library. I wanted to have a closer look at some works I had noticed before – scrolls and parchments that lined the enormous rooms from floor to ceiling. Chase had been telling me that some were quite ancient, scriptures of long-dead civilizations containing various forms of angel lore. I wanted to study them, to see how history unfolded from their perspective. I found I wanted to learn as much as I could about them - about us. There were also other forms of magic in the world, ancient good and ancient evil. Most of it was a closely guarded secret, but some information could be gathered in the books in the library. I asked Chase about other types of creatures. I wondered for the first time about the old woman who had led me to them in the warehouse.

  “Oh, she was a Watcher,” said Chase, casually.

  “A what?” I asked, looking at him. “Was she an angel?”

  “No, she’s part of an ancient Order of beings that came to be sometime after the Fall. I don’t know much, if I’m being truthful, but I know they are on the side of good. They are always watching for the newly awakened, sometimes sending us word on things of interest, things that Azrael had gotten up to, you see,” he said, looking at me, “they are responsible for sending word if Solomanta is up to no good in the area.” I was intrigued and listened as he spoke on about this and that, ancient temples, tribes that fought against Azrael, the list when on. I was surprised at how knowledgeable he was, that a keen intelligence thrived underneath his sunny and carefree exterior.

  As we passed through the hallway leading to the library, we turned the corner and I looked towards the doors of the war room just as they were opening. We both stopped, nervous. Michael strode out first, meeting my eyes. His face transformed when he saw me, and I felt my heart leap in response. Then he noticed Chase and our proximity to each other, and the look shifted quickly to something else. Stone. I hastily stepped towards him, still looking into his face. He spoke first.

  “We have made a decision.” The other archangels walked out, all bearing looks of severity and seriousness, while Michael continued.

  “We will take you to see the Guardians.”

  Chase gasped, and I turned to him, taking his cue and feeling suddenly afraid.

  “That’s never happened in my time,” he said quietly to me. “They have never risked exposing the Guardians, to revealing where they -”

  “That will be quite enough, Chase!” snapped Michael, and Chase immediately shut up, bowing his head. Raphael put a hand on Michael’s shoulder, a move I knew now meant to remind him to stay calm.

  “Larin, it is true, the Guardians are our last defence against the darkness,” Gabriel confirmed, “we go to their sanctum only under the most dire of circumstances. We feel strongly enough that the signs are true, that the prophecy has come to fruition.”

  “As you know, we believe you to be the Herald, Larin,” said Michael, gently. “It is not necessary for you to be afraid. The Guardians, like us, have existed since the dawn of time. They guard a great relic – a means of opening the celestial kingdom.”

  “The Disc,” I whispered, remembering the tale. Uriel’s eyebrows shot up, surprised.

  “Ah yes, my brother seems to have quite the propensity for openness when it comes to you,” he said, and M
ichael eyed him angrily for a moment, before turning back to me.

  “We have kept them hidden from Azrael since the beginning. If he were to find them, to find the sanctum and the means of freeing Lucifer or opening the Celestial Kingdom, the world would fall forever.”

  “Freeing,” I repeated, frowning at Michael. He stood up taller, striding forward and taking me by the arm, staring at Chase in annoyance as he did so. I felt frustrated, not understanding Michael, and angry that he was being so hostile to Chase, seemingly, my only friend.

  “Has Tristan returned?” asked Gabriel suddenly, looking at one of the guards in the hall. The guard shook his head, remaining at attention.

  “My lord, he has not.”

  “You then, go and inform the others there will be no assembly, and no pronouncements this evening,” Uriel said to the guard before turning to look back at me suspiciously. The guard nodded smartly and turned, walking quickly towards the end of the hall. His black wings shimmered as the moonlight filtered through the windows and fell upon the hallway. Despite the severity of the situation, I found myself thinking again at how everything in this place had a way of adding to the enchantment of the Citadel.

  Suddenly, there was a rush of noise and chaos, voices shouting and wings flapping wildly in our direction. We all stopped as a vessel I didn’t recognize rounded the corner with two others behind him.

  “My lords!” he cried, “Gideon is awake, and he is very weak. You must hurry!”

  The archangels leapt off the ground at once. Michael picked me up as he passed, taking me into his arms and carrying me out as he flew as though I was no heavier than a doll. I was so shocked, I had no time to react and merely stared up into his face, my mouth gaping. His grip was strong, protective, but I sensed great anxiety. He looked down at me briefly, giving me a strange look.

  We arrived at the gates of the medical bay, where the vessels were congregating, chattering amongst themselves in urgent tones. The Council members, me included – however involuntarily, landed at the doors.

  “Where is he?” barked Michael. They parted the way and we saw him, laying in the bed where a group of vessels had been congregating in concern for their friend. He was extremely pale with ominously black circles under his eyes.

  Gideon was dying.

  Michael and the others strode forward. Raphael arrived first, gently taking Gideon’s hand. Michael knelt beside him and moved away a wet strand of hair in a tender fashion that took me by surprise.

  “Gideon,” he said gently, “tell us your message.”

  Gideon looked at Michael with watery eyes, the light obviously leaving them. It was apparent in this exchange that there was a lengthy history between them, and I held back tears, watching the way they looked at each other. Gideon had been part of their family for a long time. I wondered about the things they had seen and done together in their quest to fight Azrael’s evil. And here, now, he was finally succumbing to that evil.

  “Michael,” he whispered. It almost came out as a wheeze, and he coughed, struggling for breath. Michael placed a hand on his chest, between the blood-soaked bandages. Gideon shuddered, gasping wetly. The corners of his mouth held fresh blood, and I could smell death was in the room with us. The other vessels were frozen, watching in great distress and knowing the truth of what was about to happen. I heard a woman’s voice sob and a gentle shushing beside her.

  “My friend,” Michael whispered back, and I saw him choke. My heart broke for his sadness, and I remembered the moment I watched Sam die. That feeling of helplessness, of desperation. It was overwhelming, and it was killing me to see those emotions play out on Michael’s face. I wanted to run to him but knew I was not meant to be a part of this.

  “Michael. . . the Guardians,” Gideon managed, taking a deep breath before coughing weakly. The archangels suddenly stiffened, leaning closer.

  “The Guardians. . . Azrael. . . he. . .found them. . . they have fallen,” he said, and his head drooped, his eyes closing once more.

  And forever.

  In the ensuing chaos at the Citadel, the Informant was able to send word, and Azrael stood at the meeting place, waiting impatiently. The side of the mountain was remote, but not so far as to cause the Informant’s absence to be noticed. It was extremely dark here, the light of the moon obscured under the heavy weight of the clouds that thickly shielded the sky.

  Azrael had come alone, not willing to risk others learning of the identity of the Informant, and so he stood, waiting. He walked to the edge of the cliff, holding his sword and dragging it lazily behind him, leaving lines in the sand.

  Back at Solomanta, he had told this Gideon of his culling of the Council’s beloved Guardians with the hope they would act exactly as they had done. Panicking, worrying that Azrael had gained access to the Disc and was conspiring with Lucifer to end the world. Creating enough confusion for the Informant to send back word.

  He remembered his siege upon the Guardian sanctum. Hidden in obscurity since the time before time, they were not expecting to be cut down as they were. Normally their magic would have protected them, but they had grown complacent. Confident in their Council’s protective measures, secure knowing that they would be hidden until the end of days. They could not be killed by normal means, by steel and force. The Guardians were creatures of great magic – but Azrael had something they did not. Lucifer’s sword. He used it to cut them down, one by one, though he could not open the seal to gain access to the Disc. He knew now where it was, and that was enough for now. Once his army was strong, he would make his move. He would find a way.

  Azrael’s confidence was growing. He was so close. He was still harvesting most of the newly awakened creatures, and he knew as he stood on the cliffside they were all being trained at that moment – indoctrinated and conditioned to destroy the Citadel and any others who stood in his way. His army would be stronger than the one that rose against the Council at the time of the Fall.

  He grinned to himself, enjoying the memory of taking Gideon’s wings and sending him back with such a dire message. The havoc it would have wrought. It was a delicious thought, and Azrael smiled again, delighting in his memories of the creature that screamed and begged for its wings to be spared.

  “Excellency,” said a quiet voice, his figure obscured and appearing only as a shade in the darkness beyond.

  “Tell me,” said Azrael, wasting no time.

  “She is the Herald, of that the Council is sure,” said the voice in hushed tones. “She flew, on her maiden flight, unguided. She lacks the fever. She is the first among all of the vessels to have ever been so,” it said.

  “An aberration?” asked Azrael, though his interest was piqued. “What else makes you think this creature is the Herald?”

  “Excellency, the Council thinks the signs align. In addition to her remarkable differences, the awakening of the vessels in such great numbers leads them to believe she heralds the coming of the seraphim.”

  Azrael snarled now, turning away. He knew the risk in awakening the army would potentially trigger the return of the only ones who could defeat him and Lucifer. . . when he found him. When he freed him. Until this point, the seraphim’s return had only been a whispered rumor from the mouth of a dying prophet. He’d never given it much weight before, but now he realized there was a very good possibility that the seraphim could return. He had to get that Disc.

  Azrael paced, thinking quickly.

  “I must away,” said the Informant, “I have already been gone too long.” Azrael was about

  to flap his hand, dismissing him, when he suddenly turned.

  “Bring me the girl,” he hissed. There was a moment of silence, and then an acknowledgment.

  “As you wish,” said the voice.

  Azrael smiled as the sound of wings grew further away. If the girl had the means of awakening the seraphim, the odds were good she had other powers he could exploit. He would capture this Herald, and then he would know what to do.

  He would br
eak her.

  The evening Gideon died was a blur.

  There was an incredible flurry of activity. I was taken back to the war room with the archangels, where they discussed the possibilities and implications in frantic tones. Tristan had already returned and was bent over the great table with the others, studying the map closely in their attempt to ascertain how Azrael had come to discover the Guardian Sanctum.

  “We cannot risk going there now,” said Uriel in urgent tones. “This could be a ruse to try to find the sanctum. For all we know at this time, the Guardians are alive and well.”

  “It’s possible, Uriel,” said Gabriel severely, “it is also possible that there is an informant who awaits our panic and rush to find them. It is too much of a risk. We would be followed, surely.”

  “Perhaps the Order of Watchers would know,” said Uriel, “we should seek out the Priest.”

  “They have told us nothing of this evil, brother,” Raphael replied, “we would have learned of this if they had information.”

  Tristan nodded. “We conferred with them to find Gideon. They had no knowledge of any other actions of Azrael’s army. They remain vigilant, and they will send word if they feel there is something that requires our attention. We know Azrael’s spies hide at our borders, awaiting their chance to find something of use. Any action we take will surely be watched and reported.”

  This met with much heated debate, plans proposed and nixed, objectives discussed and rediscussed.

  Michael had been largely silent, pacing around the table and nodding here and there when spoken to, though it was clear he was lost in thought.

  “Michael,” snapped Raphael, “we should put this to a vote. Do we travel to the Sanctum? Your input is necessary here.”

  The others all stopped and turned to their leader. Michael put his hands behind his back and walked to the head of the table. His picked up a dagger embedded in the map at some point of interest and inspected the thing in his hand. He suddenly threw it, and it hit the back wall, sinking deeply into the stone. The others looked at him in shock, I did too.