Herald

by J Edwards Stone

  “Larin,” Michael said, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Michael.” At this point, my voice little more than a whisper. “Lyric. . .Robert. . .saved me. . .” I tried to say, but I was hushed.

  “Do not try to speak,” he said, flying us downwards.

  “No,” I struggled against the exhaustion, forcing my lids to stay open. There was more to say. I caught his eye and saw his look of profound relief, mixed with concern and upset at my appearance. But I was alive, and I knew he rejoiced at that fact. It warmed my heart, as I felt joy of my own. The feeling of being in his arms made all my ordeals feel as though they were dreams. Something surreal. The only thing that mattered was being with him now.

  As I ceased resisting and gave in to sleep, I knew for the first time in my life I was safe.

  He had hoped never to return to this place.

  Scowling in anger and disgust, Azrael picked his way through the obstacles that lined his path down to the pool that harboured the creature within. His senses allowed him to avoid the most treacherous sharp rock and fragments that lined the passage, and the smell of rot and decay led him the rest of the way.

  The dripping in the distance echoed familiarly, and the stagnant air resisted his passage as though an entity with its own consciousness and intention. He pushed forward, every step igniting his ire further. He was furious to have to come back to this place. Furious that the stupid girl had resisted his gift to her, to take a place of high standing among his officers in the army that would be victorious when the time came to bring down the world. He had his suspicions on the instrument of her escape, but he could not cull his commanders indiscriminately until he had time to replace them. Ephreim, in particular, who thought he had fooled his master in denying his involvement in her disappearance, would eventually pay his dues at the end of Lucifer’s blade. Azrael would not abide by treachery, but the creature’s need for approval would keep him useful until the time came that he would be replaced.

  Azrael scowled again, angrily thinking about the Herald choosing the wrong side. She was a fool.

  She would be made to learn.

  He arrived at the pool below where Leviathan dwelled and waited with a sense of impatience. Soon enough, the waters churned in a predictable fashion. The creature would want a prize, its greed, other than its mere existence, the only constant it knew.

  “. . .What have you brought us. . .”

  “. . .a gift. . .”

  “. . .give it to us. . .” the creature whispered. The voices rose, unearthly and chilling. Azrael held up a hand, silencing Leviathan shortly.

  “I’ve brought you no gift, creature, yet you may be close to a great prize. Tell me now, has the Herald returned? Will she give me the means of freeing my brother?”

  There was silence as the creature considered, the tentacles coiling lazily under the surface. One arm escaped the murky depths before slamming down again into the thick liquid, the wake splashing noisily upwards. Azrael reached up and flicked a drop of the poison off his face, making an expression of disgust. Lucifer’s sword lay in its place at his hip, and he felt the creature’s hunger for the thing.

  “Tell me!” Azrael demanded, wanting to leave this place.

  Leviathan hissed, withdrawing angrily back into the pool. It was offended at the fact that Azrael had arrived empty handed, that he asked such a question of great import without paying a toll. Yet the creature knew a greater prize was within its grasp. Leviathan snarled cruelly, and if he could have grinned, he would have.

  “. . .bring us. . .”

  “. . .Azrael. . .”

  “. . .bring us its wings. . .and we shall tell you. . .”

  “. . .the wings. . .”

  “What we know. . .of the Herald. . .” Leviathan whispered, the coils withdrawing into the deep. It had laid its claim. It knew what it wanted. A great prize, it would be, the wings of the Herald, if this was what she was.

  “So be it,” said Azrael, turning away.

  I had finally fallen into a fever, demonstrating I was not immune to ravages of the body. Though it was different from the one I had endured at the time of my awakening, this one was equally unpleasant. This fever was my body trying desperately to heal itself, to overcome the physical and mental assaults I had endured in the city of fire. I was told in soothing tones that my wings, the areas damaged by the ropes from my initial capture, were infected. I caught myself wondering briefly if I would lose them, much like any other gangrenous appendage after a serious injury. The thought had made me only feel more ill, my constitution rebuilt after the change from human to vessel to reject the thought of any offense to my wings, although the damage had already been done. I was assured they would recover, that I needed to rest, and all would be well. I hoped they were right.

  I was tended to in my chambers. They had wrapped my wounds with clean bandages, alternating between hot and cold compresses on my face to make me feel better as my body struggled to put itself back together. Most of the first days after my return were a blur as if watching events unfold around me from a great distance.

  Michael stayed by my side when he wasn’t called away on Council business. In my delirium, I would call for him when he wasn’t there, and sometimes when he was there. I cried as they changed my bandages, laying salves on the angry parts where my wings were inflamed. Moving them even involuntarily caused great pain and I would moan, but then my mind would blink back to the reality that I was whole, that I could have wound up as Gideon, and I would feel relief that no matter how uncomfortable they were, they were still attached to my body. I couldn’t bear the thought of being without them, though they had only been a part of me for such a short time.

  Chase had spent much time with me, though he would only hold my hand and sit beside me while Michael could not be there. I was very happy that he had let his anger go from the last time we had seen each other and he had discovered that my heart was with another. There was something different about him, some underlying happiness I couldn’t understand. I was glad for it though and found his happiness made my ordeal somewhat less uncomfortable. His light was contagious, and I felt very peaceful in the moments it was just him and I in the room together, and I would be able to sleep.

  I don’t know how long it had been since I’d been back, but one evening I opened my eyes and found I could think somewhat more clearly than before. I looked towards the window and saw it was dark outside, and there was a gentle breeze flowing into the room that made the firelight dance around the walls in a merry fashion.

  There was a rustling and Michael came to my bed, looking into my eyes with relief. “The fever has broken,” he whispered, taking my hand gently and raising it to his lips as he used the other to feel the side of my face in confirmation that the fire inside me had receded. I smiled at him weakly, though my heart leapt strongly in its familiar fashion when I felt the softness of his touch on my skin.

  “Michael,” I whispered, my face crumpling. I cried, the act of doing so still eliciting pain. My face was no longer swollen, but the tears burned the areas with gashes that had not yet healed. I thought again to the horrors I had witnessed, to what I had been forced to endure, but more than that – to the guilt that I had nearly given myself over to the blackness Azrael had tried to coax outward. No matter how much Ephreim had deserved to die, he had been unarmed. I had nearly murdered him in cold blood. With glee. The pain of that knowledge was more hurtful than the pain of my physical wounds.

  Michael mistook my distress for physical pain, and he anxiously looked over my body to see if there was something he could do. He took a cool cloth and put it gently against my face and neck, patting delicately. I stopped him by putting my hand on his. He looked at me worriedly, wondering what he should do.

  “I nearly. . .” I gasped, trying to find the words to explain. “I nearly believed him. Azrael.” I sobbed. Michael looked at me in confusion before a light went on behind his eyes in understanding.

  “They call Luci
fer the Father of Lies,” he said quietly, “though Azrael could easily compete for the title. You have nothing to feel guilty for, Larin,” he whispered. “I’m sure he told you a great many things to get you to question your place in this story. You must let it go. You are here, now, and that shows the strength you had inside you. I am sure he promised you much, but you rose above it all and stayed true to who you are.”

  “Who I am.” I sniffed, regaining control somewhat. Michael’s words took some of the bitterness out of the memory, but the guilt remained. “Who am I, exactly? I’ve never been anyone I would call particularly ‘good,’ Michael. My life before this was all about survival. I’ve always known there was something. . .inside me. . .that wasn’t. . .that is. . .” I struggled for the words. Michael watched my face quietly, knowing I had to get it out. “. . .bad,” I finished in a whisper.

  Michael smiled and squeezed my hand. “We are all capable of darkness, Larin, but whether we give over to it determines who we truly are. I told you once that your heart would guide you. That the choice to follow the path of darkness or the path of light would be yours to make. You made the choice in Solomanta. You are not ‘bad’,” he said, looking into my eyes to convey the depth of his meaning. “You are a good-hearted soul, Larin. I believe this to be true. I believe you would continue to choose the path that leads to righteousness.”

  I turned my head away, closing my eyes.

  “I have seen your goodness, Larin, I have heard of your kind words to the young vessel,” Michael said, and I knew he was referring to Neesha. “I saw you run to help another young vessel at the training cliffs who had fallen, despite all the eyes upon you. I have seen your humility. You have bravely attempted to accept the fact that you may be the Herald and the potential responsibility that comes with it. You have never sought power, and I know that you would never be one to abuse it. It is your spirit that will continue to win over others, that will garner you loyalty in the days ahead. It is what will make people love you. There is only one other. . .who. . .” he frowned, struggling for words. I continued to regard him quietly, letting him finish. “There was only one other who commanded my affections. Once, long ago. She had your heart, and I see her strength in you now.” He finished the last part quietly, searching my face and struggling himself to say something more.

  “It is. . .why I love you. . .perhaps more than I ever thought possible,” he said softly.

  I looked into his eyes, absorbing his last statement. He loved me.

  He had told me once I reminded him of someone from his past, someone I presumed to be a former lover. I wondered what had happened to her, but I felt that at that moment she was truly gone. I felt his feelings for me were true. I wanted to prod, to ask more questions, but something inside my heart told me not to, and to leave that piece of his past quiet.

  I still did not feel worthy of the love of such a creature as Michael. But I saw he meant his words, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek and linger on my chin. Michael reached out a hand and gently wiped it away with his fingers, leaving a line of fire after his touch. I felt my body stir with desire, but below it, a sensation so strong I lacked words to describe it. It could only be. . .love.

  I had felt a quiet joy at his words, and everything I had endured in my life, in Solomanta, all of it melted away in that moment.

  “I love you too,” I whispered, and meant it with every fibre of my being. I loved him more than I had words to describe, so I tried to convey it with my eyes. Michael smiled softly and leaned forward, kissing my damaged lips gently so as not to cause further pain. I closed my eyes and sighed with happiness. He withdrew and brought my hands again to his lips, keeping his eyes closed.

  “I had nearly lost my mind when I learned you were taken,” he said. “I have lived a long life, but I have never felt a reason other than my divine purpose one for continuing to fight. For continuing to struggle through a war seemingly without end. Yet you gave me another reason to continue to the battle. I would have sundered the earth and heavens themselves to get to you.” I wondered why his words made him sad, but I saw a sadness there, under the surface.

  “I considered the possibility that I was no longer fit to lead. I very nearly stepped down from my place at the Council in order to search for you in earnest. Now that I have found you, found love in another - I find it is more important to me than anything else in this world. Perhaps even more than the purpose I was built for. It frightens me,” he admitted and sighed. I frowned, looking back at his face and withdrawing my hands to take his and squeeze them reassuringly. It was my turn to comfort him.

  “Maybe that’s the worthiest goal of all,” I ventured. “Love. Maybe, in the end, it’s the people we love that make this war worth fighting. You aren’t any different from anyone else with a heart, Michael. Just as I’m prepared to fight for my friends. I love them. I know I have to do whatever I can to protect them. Maybe this is the first time that you’ve understood that there is more to life than just the black and white dichotomy of ‘goodness and evil.’ There are faces to it. We fight for who we love just as much as what we love. Maybe more.”

  Michael looked at me in surprise, then smiled, nodding. “You are much wiser than even I have given you credit for,” he said. I smiled back at him, and I reached my hand up to touch his face. He grasped my hand and brought it up to his cheek for me, and I marvelled again at the softness there.

  We stayed that way for some time, smiling at each other in the firelight. The war had changed. Not the war of the world around us, but in our hearts. We knew now that we were fighting for each other.

  The days passed, and I steadily regained my strength. I stayed bedbound for some time, despite my pleas to get up. Michael and the others refused to let me wander, to let me leave my room. I grew annoyed with Michael, insisting I needed some air. He would tell me it wasn’t safe, that I wasn’t ready. I knew it was protectiveness more than pragmatism, and we had argued.

  “I’m better, Michael, I need to get outside!” I had insisted, trying to get out of bed only to have him shake his head in refusal, pushing a gentle but firm hand against my shoulder to keep me down. “I’ll go with Chase,” I said, looking over his shoulder to see if he had come back. He hadn’t, and I knew he was spending much of his time these days with Lyric. I had discovered that she was actually his sister, had also undergone the awakening, although Azrael’s minions had gotten to her first. I felt great joy for his joy at their reunion. Chase had been carrying himself with considerable glee, and I found it contagious. He’d always been a great companion in the early days, his sparkle for life something that drew me to him when I had been lost and confused. Now it was even more pronounced. Despite his hurt at my rejection, he had overcome it, his good heart unable to hold onto any negativity for long. Lyric had much to do with that as well, and I remember seeing Chase’s propensity for cheer in her. I looked forward to getting to know her in the days to come.

  Both Lyric and Robert had been interrogated but being Chase’s sister had helped the Citadel to accept her. They were given limited privileges on the Citadel grounds, despite still being viewed with suspicion and caution. Defectors were not unheard of, but they were few and far between. Azrael kept his power through fear and intimidation. Those who tried to escape were usually caught, and punished. The Council were not prepared to believe entirely that they were not spies, and Lyric and Robert were not given free rein around the grounds yet.

  “No,” said Michael, firmly, answering my earlier question. I knew he was not threatened by Chase, that he understood my complete devotion was to him. I saw it mirrored in his eyes, and there was no questioning our feelings for each other. But I was still bothered by his inability to tolerate Chase in large doses, and it seemed to spill over to me spending much time with him.

  “Michael,” I said in warning, but he shook his head.

  “It is not safe, Larin. You’re not ready. You need to regain your strength.”

  “Michael, it’s perfectly
safe! What could possibly happen to me here?” I demanded, looking at him in annoyance.

  “Exactly what happened before,” he said simply, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I had forgotten. There was still an informant around. They had never discovered who had captured me in the first place. I swallowed, wondering who it could be, and realizing it was true.

  “What if we don’t ever find out who it is? I don’t want to feel like a prisoner here too, Michael. I didn’t care for it much the first time someone kept me somewhere against my will,” I said, swallowing. “and I would rather take my chances. I promise you we will take every precaution.” Michael sighed, coming to sit beside me and taking my hand.

  He had told me of his visit to Lucifer, of the fact that the Guardians had been confirmed dead. The Council had heard no news of anything since, no leads to help them discover who the Informant was, or what the death of the Guardians would mean for us in the future. The Disc still appeared to be safe behind the great seal that protected it, but without the Guardians to protect it, or to instruct them on how the Herald would be involved now that her existence was likely confirmed instead of something of legend, there were still many questions about how to proceed. They had taken several great chances in seeking answers, and there was still the fear there were more dark surprises around the corner. It was what made my safety even more important in the days to come, he had explained. I understood, but I still felt frustration in my situation. I couldn’t live like this for long, I had argued.

  The other Council members visited me as I recovered, Raphael and Gabriel both genuinely happy to see I was well. Both had offered their services for whatever request I may have that they could fulfill. The most surprising visit had been Uriel, however.