Celestial Wars Ch. 03

Feeling slightly more in control of my desperate situation, I pulled my legs up and underneath me. I lay my sword across my lap and adopted the meditation pose that the fae called 'The Stone that Splits the River.' My mind slowed as I lowered myself into the meditative exercise.

I took stock of all the wounds that had healed. I took stock of how much magic Vraiel and I had at our disposal. I took stock of the demon heart. It beat with its normal hypnotic pulsing.

I moved on from the heart, lest it take me from my meditation with its lurid impulses.

Then came a voice. It was so quiet and muffled, that had I not been in the hyperaware state that I was, I would never have heard it.

"Devnikolus." the soft voice said, "events have occurred that I cannot explain and there are schemes in motion that I cannot divine."

For a moment ... I thought I had imagined it.

"Did you here that, Vraiel?" I asked.

Vraiel ... for the first time in many centuries ... was stunned, and just a bit afraid.

"Vraiel?!" I called. "What is it?"

"My God ... why would he come here?" Vraiel said to himself. "What have we walked into?"

Vraiel was beginning to scare me and that sharp emotion rent me out of 'Stone Split River.'

"What is it! What was that voice?" I asked again, my tone taking on a hard, frightened edge.

"Archangel Michael is on the manor grounds," Vraiel said, his voice disbelieving. "There is high Celestial intrigue at work here, Daniel. Archangels and Demon Princes do not meet for anything less."

Surely Devnikolus wasn't planning to fight Michael, was he?

"We have to help him!" I sprang easily to my feet. The chains rattled, but at my full strength they did little to weigh me down. "Let's just blast our way out of this place," I said as I began to pull on greater amounts of our magic.

"We can't," Vraiel said, his voice tight with angst. "That voice that sounded so soft was actually a yell to shake the treetops."

"Oh. That must mean—"

"Yes," Vraiel thought. "We are nearly half a league under the earth. An army of seraphim could not force their way out of this pit."

I stood there for a full moment.

Then I screamed my frustration.

Chapter 16

The Confrontation

The Singers are the seven that tend to God's throne. They flitter about the Center Sphere, and chant the eternal praises of their Lord. When He does not sit the throne, the Light look to the Singers to lead them.

-Taken from Alexander Morningstar's 'Celestial Matters.'

~

Devnik

I jumped the full flight of stairs in my haste. I landed at the bottom as gently as an autumn leaf, as silent as a whisper. My movements might have been quiet, but my body was shaking with an eager, uncontained readiness

A brief pause took me as I reached out towards the oaken front door. Outside was the full light of the late morning. The memory of what had happened the last time I had stood under the sun's rays flashed vividly in my mind.

My chest itched as if it could feel the remnants of the cut Cariel had slashed across it.

I put my hand on the door, and heaved it open.

Light spilled across my face.

For a moment I had to suppress a deep seated instinct to flinch and cower in the presence of the Light's light. When I was composed, I cautiously I tried to take a step outside. I found my leg ready and able to move.

The daylight shield was working.

Now then...

***

Cariel

I sensed Devnikolus' presence blur past the door to the guest room.

He was going out there.

He was really going to go face Michael. It seemed almost surreal. It seemed unbelievable. For the vast majority of the Light, the Arch-Angels were all-powerful and unassailable.

One might more readily scold a thunderstorm for its actions than an Arch-Angel. One might more readily fight a mountainside than fight an Arch-Angel.

For a brief moment I worried. By all rights, I had held my own better than I had any right to in my fight against the Prince of Destruction.

Michael was so far above me in terms of power and position that it made my head ache.

I wondered why he was here...

Perhaps he was here to offer the aid he had once refused me?

I had met Michael twice before. Once, through Michael's friendship with my Celestial Superior Johoel.

The second was when I went to beg for my half-sister's freedom.

It had taken me two full days of begging and bartering before I was allowed entrance to the Center Sphere. When I had finally stepped into its golden halls, my meeting with Lord Michael had been brief.

He had told me that he could free Alarial from Devnikolus' control if I could get her to come away with me to a place where Michael would have time to meet us.

Was he outside because he had changed his mind? Did he now intend to help us?

A little too late for that, I thought angrily. Aid would have been welcome before I had this collar clenched around my neck.

***

The soulless man shifted slightly in his place by the windowsill... distracting me from my ruminations.

"You can't see the front garden from that window," I said, with some of my anger bleeding into my voice.

The strange human shrugged without looking at me.

"I don't particularly want to watch," he said mildly.

The man had been quiet and withdrawn since he had returned and told me about Devnikolus's sun shield and his plan to face Lord Michael.

I raised an eyebrow. "You watched me fight your Master," I said leadingly.

Jon laughed.

"Your Master too now," he said with a small smile. "Unless I've been mishearing since I got here?"

I didn't rise to his jest. I wanted him to answer my question.

When I didn't respond, he looked back at me and sighed.

"When my Prince fought you, there was a chance that I might prove useful," he said, his voice losing much of its mirth. "But against an Arch-Angel... I imagine I'd just be a liability."

I huffed at that, and pressed my shoulders against a wall. For a few moments I contemplated pouncing on this annoying human. I wasn't accustomed to hearing human sinners talk to me in such a manner.

But then...I thought about the punishment Devnikolus had given me when I attacked the Bra'rul. I thought about the chains, and the blows he had rained down on me. My body shivered and clenched.

"I want to watch," I blurted out suddenly.

Jon raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't recommend going outside."

"A window," I said quickly. "Where's a window I could watch from?"

Jon eyed me for a long moment. I could tell he didn't quite know what to make of me.

Something in that stare made me shift uncomfortably.

"Hmm," Jon said finally. "I haven't been to this manor in about four centuries...but I think the bathroom might have a high window with a discrete view of the manor's front grounds."

He gestured out the door, and then turned back to look out the window that wouldn't show him anything of the fight.

Without saying another word, I left the human to his brooding, and crossed into the hallway.

I was nearly to the bathroom when the door to the Master's chamber opened. Alarial stepped out, and neatly closed the door behind herself.

She turned, and froze when she saw me.

My half-sister's blond hair was an absolute mess...it looked like she had been the loser in a fight with her pillows. Her clothes weren't much better. She had slipped her old travel clothes on. A grass stain clung to the knee of her brown pants, and it looked like a few small specks of blue blood had stained her shirt at the shoulder.

"Are you going to watch?" I asked simply.

Alarial gave me a hard...scrutinizing look.

I could only imagine what she saw. I was dressed in a heavy red robe that Jon had found in the guest room dresser. I still felt slightly nauseous and unwell from Lord Michael's compulsions.

But more than that... I could feel the lingering shame of my display earlier. I had told a demon that I would love him if he satisfied my addictions...and she had seen it.

"Yes..." she said slowly, her silver eyes betraying her distrust.

I turned, popped the bathroom door open, and gestured for her to follow me inside.

The window was too high to see out of for someone of my height. Scowling, I grabbed the copper bathtub, and dragged it underneath the window.

"What are you doing?" Alarial asked from the doorway.

I put one probing foot on the side of the tub. It seemed it would hold my weight without tipping over.

"The human said this was the best window to watch from," I said, attempting to keep the ridiculousness of the situation out of my voice.

"And what?" she asked frostily, "Are we going to take turns standing on a wash tub?"

I edged my feet over, so that there was space for her to stand on the side as well.

Alarial tentatively stepped up onto the tub next to me...I could smell the Demon Prince's scent on her.

I tried to ignore the feelings that roused in me...and turned my attention to the grounds beyond the window...where a dark haired man dressed in a black waistcoat was slowly sauntering toward a copper haired man adorned in a simple white tunic.

***

Devnik

The wind was high in the tree branches as I walked slowly and measuredly down the garden path. The pleasant and unusual feel of the sun's warmth was at my back. Occasionally the breeze would swoop down and cut the heat with a tingling chill.

I felt all these things as I approached Michael. He was taller than me by an inch or two, and broader as well. His face was sharp and harsh, and framed by a ridiculous mop of bright bronze hair that curled every which way.

He was just what I expected...just what I had heard.

To his credit, he didn't attempt to do anything awe inspiring or magically intimidating.

That was the low sort of posturing that lesser demons and humans might take note of...but not me. Instead, he simply stood in the middle of my garden with his hands clasped behind his back. His face was stern, and slanted in an angry, disapproving expression.

But that was all the reaction my appearance mustered from him.

I stopped ten paces in front of him, and gave him my best smile. If he was not going to play the role of the righteously indignant angel, then I would happily take up the mantle of the mocking demon.

"So wonderful of you to drop in Michael," I said, layering my voice with false graciousness. "You must excuse my lack of hospitality. I would have made the servants put the tea kettle on had I known you were coming..."

The Arch-Angel cocked his head slightly to the side. His silver eyes narrowed.

"And yet," he said, "You are wearing a daylight shield. You must have known I was coming in order to prepare..." His voice was low and rich, but his tone was far too mild for an irate Angel.

"Are you insinuating that I have purposely not prepared any tea?" I asked wryly...trying to diffuse the nerves that this Angel inspired in me.

Michael frowned and waved a hand.

Suddenly, blue sparks erupted from Michael's fingers, and blurred towards me at a shocking speed. I barely managed to raise a hand in time and knock the spell away.

My skin fizzled and burned from where the magic had touched my skin. I shook the pain from it with a grimace.

"Speak respectfully Devnikolus," Michael said, with nothing more than faint disapproval. "Goading is far beneath us both."

I blinked once and nodded.

"Very well," I said as my magic healed my charred flesh. "I did know that you were coming."

Michael inclined his head and returned his hand behind his back, "Thank you," he said. "I appreciate your civility."

He paused then. The sun slipped behind a passing cloud, and my garden darkened briefly. In the distance I could hear a horse and cart trundling down the dirt road.

"Devnikolus," the Arch-Angel began, "would you please tell me why you killed a Judicar bonded Angel, and then killed Legionnaire sortie fifty-four?"

That was very direct.

I looked up at the sun. I estimated that fifteen minutes would be long enough in order to give Lucifer his half-hour. I just needed to keep him here a little longer.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," I said, surprising myself with the sincerity in my own voice.

Michael frowned. "So there is a scheme," he said evenly. "I wonder what could it be?"

"Perhaps I needed their deaths for a greater Working?" I suggested, hoping to keep him talking a few moment more...before the fighting began.

Michael shook his head, "No," he said almost too himself, "I don't sense that you've stored their essence anywhere." He paused, then said, "Could you have been trying to draw out Viriel? I know you have had encounters in the past..."

I nearly laughed aloud. I stifled it quickly. I doubted Michael would appreciate a laughing demon.

"Hardly worth my time," I said. "He was an amusing distraction over the years...nothing more."

The angel nodded. "Yes...quite," he said. "And then I cannot forget that you anticipated my arrival...that means that you've either given this plan a good deal of forethought...or you've had some sort of access to predictions of the future."

I stood still and silent. Watching Michael think was awe-inspiring. He hadn't been wrong yet.

"And then," Michael continued, "there is the fact that you have chosen to stand bravely against me...rather than slink into the shadows...as your kind is want to do."

I felt a brief twinge of irritation flicker in the corners of my mouth. Michael stood before me calmly and unafraid. A gentle breeze swept through the garden. The angel's bronze hair moved slightly in the wind. Above, the cloud covering the sun was blown gently away...and light bathed the manor grounds once more.

It took me a second before I was sure I could speak calmly.

"Perhaps I've found my courage," I said, biting back darker words.

"Courage can come and go," Michael said, as if he was conceding a point I had made, "But I've found that unless valor rests at the heart of who you are...then most have to have an underlying reason for finding fortitude."

I was beginning to find Michael's calm...irritating.

"Well," I said, "As I've mentioned, I fear I am going to be less than forth coming about my motivations."

Michael sighed. He fluidly lowered his stance. He brought his hands up and out from behind his back, and widened his fingers and thumb into a traditional magic casting stance.

"I had wanted to avoid this Devniel," Michael said softly. For a brief moment, I could detect the great well of pity and sadness Michael felt for me. He felt the sadness that only comes from looking on at a creature that has known heaven... and will never return.

I lowered myself down into my own casting stance.

"I've never met you... and you never knew me when I bore that name," I said as I felt vitriol and pain crystalizing in my gut. "I forbid you to utter it."

"Very well," Michael said. "I must avenge those of the Light who have been killed. If I cannot do it with words, I will do it with actions. Let us be brave together demon."

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could utter a word, Michael twirled away from me. He whipped the back of his hand around and a wave of shimmering magic exploded outward at me.

The talking was apparently done.

I drew on my power. Red sparks fluttered as I shot both my arms up into the air. Earth from my garden rose up and in front of me like a shield. The clumped and matted wall of dirt flashed and was turned into a fine powder as Michael's spell connected.

Anticipating his next move, I pushed off on my left foot, and blurred away to my right...just in time to dodge a blinding gout of blue flames.

As soon as I touched back down to the ground, I pivoted, and jabbed both index fingers at my opponent and cast.

Twin red beams of demonic magic sliced towards the Arch-Angel.

Michael ducked underneath them both and rolled away. In a neat forward turn, he sprang back up to his feet, and pushed the heel of his palm at me with supernatural celerity.

A shockwave of wind hurtled at me. It wasn't a traditional spell, and it caught me wholly unprepared.

The gale hit me in the face with the strength of a tidal wave. It lifted me from my feet...and I somersaulted bonelessly through the air.

***

-Alarial-

A small rasping scream caught in my throat as I watched Devnik fly end over end before landing in a hedge. My breath fogged the dirty glass window, and both Cariel and I hastily wiped it away.

This was too much. When Cariel and I watched them talk for so long I almost convinced myself that there would be no fighting at all.

How foolish I was.

My Dark God burst out the hedge in a flurry of leaves. In each hand he held two glowing red orbs of magic. The magic radiating from Devnik's magic set my face tingling. I held my breath as I watch Devnik throw one spell after the other.

Michael dodged them both...and I cursed under my breath.

To my surprise, so did Cariel.

Without taking my eyes from the garden below, I asked, "Why would you hope for a Demon's victory? From what you've said, isn't Michael our salvation?"

I watched Cariel's grip tighten on the window sill. She leaned her head forward slightly, and strands of red hair fell over her shoulders.

"You heard what I said last night," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "you heard the shameful things I want the demon to do to me."

"Yes," I said with a little heat in my voice, "I did."

We fell silent as Michael unleashed a torrent of ice blue lighting at Devnik. I watched in horror as Devnik was forced to catch the spell with his hands. His face contorted with pain.

"Why doesn't he draw his sword and close the distance!" I yelled at the window, as if I was a spectator at a game of court tennis.

"They're fighting very traditionally," Cariel said, as if she were my teacher. "Beings of greater power begin by exchanging spells and taking the other's measure...when they draw swords...things will be different."

I watched Devnik take a glancing blow to his shoulder as Michael unleashed a fresh spell. Devnik was spun by the magic...and he barely dodge Michael's following attack.

"He's losing," Cariel said softly. A piece of the wooden window sill splintered in her grasp.

The anger I had carried against Cariel leapt up, like a new flame from a smoldering coal.

"Be quiet!" I screeched, as I forced my eyes from the garden. "There is no one more powerful than him!"

Even as I said the words I realized how desperate they sounded.

Cariel turned her head to look at me. Sorrow was etched on her porcelain white face. Now that she was looking at me, I could clearly see tears dripping down her cheeks.

Her voice hitched as she spoke.

"On any other day you'd be right..." she said slowly. "But right now...against that Michael...you're wrong...as wrong as you can be."

I grit my teeth. I wanted to claw Cariel's eyes for doubting Devnik...I wanted to do...something.

Cariel stepped down off the tub, and sat down against the bathroom wall. She leaned her head back, and she stared up at the ceiling.

"Michael will probably kill him," Cariel said her voice dull and listless. "If you're lucky, he'll forgive you and forge you another Aethling bond with a respectable Angel...as for me...hopefully he kills me quickly. I deserve no less for my failure...and my...desires."

I was about to respond to her...or attack her...when the bathroom door opened, and Jon walked in, looking about pale and angry.