Scars of War (Fate & Destiny Book 1), page 29
“It’s Threshmundir,” Gabriel said. “He’s in his husk now.” Trying to calm Zuriel, she quickly replied, “Don’t worry. You’re going to be okay, Zuriel, understood?” She didn’t wait for a response. Rather, she jumped straight into her main concern. “Do you have any clue as to where Thornes might be?”
Zuriel said, “I w-was going after his voice when I felt something grab me…”
Tck! The noise came from Gabriel’s mouth. The exasperation was beginning to show in her breathing. “Threshmundir is playing this game for all it’s worth.” Trying hard to see through the fog-like blind, she scanned anxiously for anything lurking about that might be ready to stab them in their unguarded backs.
“I can’t see a thing!” Zuriel said, anxiety in her voice. “We’ve got to find Thornes.”
“I know,” Gabriel whispered, trying to sound calm. “Believe me, I know, Zuriel. But we can’t get worked up over this.”
Though unable to see, Gabriel could still feel Zuriel’s pouting expression as she struck back with, “Look who's talking. I can literally feel the heat coming off your skin from how hot your blood is boiling.” Gabriel opened her mouth to object, but not before a voice stretched into her head again.
This will all be over soon.
Snap! They heard something break, a flimsy body in the hands of a behemoth. They stood silent, wishing they hadn’t listened. In the distance, they heard another crack and winced. With nothing left but to follow into the night, they rushed towards the noise in a fitful panic, keeping close beside each other so as not to be separated again.
“Thornes!” they cried out.
With little time to respond, Gabriel nudged at Zuriel and drew her blades. “Quick, Zuriel, lend me your strength.”
No other words were necessary. Zuriel could tell exactly what Gabriel was asking for. She did as she was asked, not hesitating in the route they had chosen. Understanding that Gabriel needed a direct link to her power, Zuriel closed in tightly next to Gabriel, her arms wrapped around her waist and wings encompassing them both. For a moment, they stood still, taking in whatever light there was left in the surroundings.
As they absorbed the life essence of the chamber, Gabriel felt the energy surging through her weapons. They glistened and glowed with a radiant silver before forging themselves into Gabriel’s fully-formed greatsword. For a few moments only, they had enough light to see the shadow of an angel in the clutches of a demon and the yellow eyes that retreated back into the darkness. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Gabriel shouted. “You’re not getting away!”
Together, they raised her new weapon as high as they could muster and slung down at the shadow below them. It raised a limb to block the attack, laughing deeply before realizing the intensity of the attack.
The two yellow orbs quickly peered down, seeing the light that still radiated against their skin. In an instant, Threshmundir recoiled in outrage. He cried out, relinquishing his grip on their angel friend. He wailed loudly, flailing rampantly against the darkened chamber, but the Pure Ones paid him little mind. With the only opening in sight, they took hold of their friend and shot towards the skies.
The living chamber shook and rumbled with the cries of its master, the walls of the chamber literally pulling in and swinging out like a human organ. The shaking was so violent, the ceilings above cracked and the walls screeched under the pressure of the demon’s rage. “Curse you, Pure Ones! Curse you to Hell!”
Frantic, Gabriel took Zuriel by her hand. “Look out!” she cried, pulling her two friends out of harm’s way, a part of the ceiling hurtling past them. From above, they could see the gateway out, the gateway that lead into the realm of the living. Breaths nearly as heavy as Thornes felt, they struggled to fly past the souls falling from the skies above like dive bombs overhead.
“Everyone okay?” Gabriel cried, her heart nearly jumping from her chest as another piece of the sky hurtled past them.
Zuriel shrieked in disapproval. “Thornes won’t wake! I knew coming here was a bad idea, I just knew it! This—!”
“No time for regrets,” Gabriel interrupted, but Zuriel had already lost herself in the panic. “Wake up, Thornes! Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
Pure Ones! A shriek bounced along the walls and into her head, but Gabriel dared not look behind them. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what was coming for them, how it looked and how angry it had become. This will be your grave, Pure Ones! Here, with me!
“Dodge the flames,” Gabriel demanded. “We will not be dying today.” Zuriel did as she was told, rushing alongside Gabriel with an increasingly heavy angel resting against her shoulders.
“Gabriel,” she huffed. “I don’t know how much longer I can go on.”
Gabriel snarled, “I will not tolerate this right now, Zuriel.” She could feel the load getting heavier and Zuriel’s wingbeat growing lighter, weaker. Fear crawled into her head as she looked up above them.
We’re almost there. Can we make it? She had an idea.
“Zuriel, cover our backs!”
Zuriel seemed confused, her mind already starting to flatline. “Our backs…?” She took but a moment to check behind them, but a moment was all it took.
Zuriel shouted at the top of her lungs. Gabriel felt a force so strong it carried her. “Holy Heaven on a blessed mother’s Sunday! What in Fate’s name is that wretched, creepy, scaly—WHAT—IN—THE—!” Gabriel stopped listening, fearing that Zuriel’s gibberish would go south. Still, it gave her great relief to see Zuriel gaining speed, especially considering how desperate they were to escape.
Feeling a breeze underneath, Gabriel could tell something had missed her legs as it swung at them. In a panic, Gabriel, too, quickened her pace. Heaven forbid Threshmundir should swing again.
Klink! She heard the noise from somewhere behind them. “The end of his chain!” Gabriel gasped, a sea of relief rushing over her terrified body. “Zuriel, we did it. We made it to the gates!”
“No…,” they heard the demon cry out. “NO! Blast these chains! Curse this curse! May you rot into nothing, Pure Ones, and burn, here in Hell! Just like…!” But his words were cut off as they shot through the gates.
At long last they’d reached the realm of the living. What had been above became straight ahead, to their left, the sky. Unable to adapt quickly enough to the change in dimension, they fell to the right, face-planting into the dirt as the rest of them slid against the ground. Gabriel could literally count the seconds on her fingers as they slid, to the point she began to wonder just how fast they’d fled.
When their bodies finally skidded to a stop, they sprawled out, exhausted, their hearts still pounding against their chests. Gabriel was the first to roll to her knees, sweat dripping down her arms as she reached to take off her mask. She could bear it no longer. With nimble fingers, she massaged her temples free of the stress and rubbed the base of her nose free of irritation. The tangles in her hair fell over her face, but she paid them no mind.
Seeing Gabriel had removed her mask, Zuriel pointed a finger in outrage. Wishing to discuss the Angel Code of Conduct with her friend, she inhaled deeply, ready to deliver one of her long and boring speeches about proper mission attire and conduct. After seeing the glare Gabriel struck her with, however, she decided against it, retracting anything she’d been about to say before it was said, her accusing finger going limp and dangling against her hand as it, too, had lost its backbone.
Though they had failed their own mission, Gabriel felt more at ease now after taking a moment to fulfill her habit of massaging the stress from her face. She took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. In that breath, nothing else mattered. They had made it out of Threshmundir’s clutches alive and learned all they needed to know firsthand. They had learned of his plan now in action, his curse still in place—for the most part, and even of the Foothold and its purpose. Gabriel understood they had much work awaiting them, but for now, she lived in that one second, catching her breath.
Turning to the silent and observant Zuriel, Gabriel cocked her head and said, “You really don’t do so well under pressure, do you?”
Zuriel edged closer to Gabriel, their faces nearly meeting. Then she quickly sprang back with a huff, arms crossed as she said, “You’re one to talk—!”
Gabriel waved her huffing off with a gesture that said talk to the hand and then shrugged. “At least we made it out in one piece.” She nudged Zuriel. “I must say, I’ve never seen you run so fast in my afterlife! It was almost as if Thornes wasn’t even riding our shoulders.”
Zuriel chuckled. “To be honest,” she admitted, “I had no idea I could move like that either. Thornes is a heavy guy. It felt like we were carrying two guys on our...backs…?”
Turning to check on their friend, they found a soul still squirming over Thornes’ unconscious body. “Freedom!” It snarled.
The tone of Zuriel’s voice shot up one octave. “What the—?” Gabriel spared no time drawing her blades and tearing into the soul as Zuriel screamed, edging away on her three good limbs. “Kill it! KILL IT!”
Gabriel made quick work of the abomination, tossing its mangled heap through the gate. “Calm yourself, Zuriel. It just hitched a ride. It’s harmless.”
“You're kidding me,” Zuriel exclaimed, shaking her head wildly. “That thing was touching me the whole time. That sick, nasty thing dug its grimy little sausages for fingers into my robes? The nerve!” She fell over. “I can’t believe it. I really was carrying two people. Geez.” Then she cringed in pain, her hand over her leg.
Gabriel hadn’t noticed until now but thinking back, she did recall Zuriel complaining about something having gripped her. Looking to see how bad the damage was, she realized Zuriel’s leg had been charred black. “Zuriel,” Gabriel said, startled, “are you okay?”
Zuriel bit her words back in a quivering whimper before reassuring Gabriel of her health. “I’m fine. I must have dragged the wound along the ground, is all.” Then she looked at Gabriel. “Say, you don’t look so good, yourself.” She held out an arm, placing a hand on Gabriel’s forehead. “You feel warm and your breathing is off.”
Gabriel shook the hand from her head. It was her turn to say, “I’m fine,” but Zuriel wasn’t buying it. She turned Gabriel to look at her back.
“Your wing!” she gasped. “You’ve lost one!”
Gabriel huffed, still shaking her head in denial. “I’m fine, Zuriel, but I have to admit, it’s really doing a number on me.” Now curious, they checked their wounds more closely.
Silence.
They didn’t know what to think, or even how to act. The demon’s grip had burned them both badly. Even with the flames long put out, the wounds grew, still burning. It felt as if they were still in the clutches of the demon, their injuries growing more painful with each second they sat idle. “These marks!” Zuriel breathed. “They’re...eating at us?” Hesitant they checked on Thornes.
Eyes wide, Gabriel called out for her friend, who had been gripped from the neck down, his entire body charcoal. Patches of skin clung to him. There wasn’t much else left. Fear echoed in Gabriel’s mind. Into her very soul.
“How long does he have?”
Rushing to action, they quickly took their friend back onto their shoulders and rushed for the skies. “We need to get to Heaven, now!” Zuriel cried.
“We need the healing fountains!”
15
AN ARTIFACT EQUAL TO HELL’S FLAME
Seraph took pleasure in gazing down at his destination, a city known for its communications and radio towers. Obscura. Here, the Envoys broadcasted their platforms and spammed their brainwashing shows. It was a wonder, then, that Seraph had never heard of the Envoys until leaving his home. He shrugged, recalling that both Melany and Zephyr had been keen on keeping him in the dark all those years. He’d always wondered how he could have been so dull-minded. Then again, he knew that it had taken a demon to open his eyes in the end.
Not only was Obscura the perfect place for the Envoys to broadcast their allegory—Seraph planned to utilize the radio towers for his own purpose. Broadcasting carnage, rebellion, and fear—this was what Seraph had planned to do here.
He planned to rummage through city after city until Jeremy decided to come out of hiding, but something told Seraph that it wouldn’t take much more than Obscura to get the job done. The Envoys had already been cut off from communications with a few cities, including Sombrenburg and Vicerah. Rumors were already spreading of a new threat to their politics. There was no doubt in Seraph’s mind that they would want to put down any rebellion as quickly as possible.
“This is it,” Seraph said with a devilish smirk on his face. “Obscura!”
Zephyr looked disappointed. Staring down, the city didn’t seem as big as Vicerah or even Sombrenburg, but Seraph assured him of its importance.
“This city may be smaller,” Seraph explained, “but it plays a key role, nonetheless. And being smaller in size means less resistance.”
Zephyr frowned, a hand to his chin in skepticism. “Could the size indicate lack of firepower?” Seraph waved his caution away. “This place is valuable to the Envoys. That’s why they had Maximillian Sharpeye watch over it. But…” the scaly head of a serpent surfaced to spew a soul—Maxie’s soul. “Sad to say Maxie is no longer with them. Their connections have been cut off since the day we overtook Vicerah.
“Can you feel it, Zephyr? Obscura’s people, they’re in the dark. They’re anxious, worried and missing some of their men, too. Their defenses are like swiss cheese. There are just too many holes for them to plug.” Seraph clenched a fist. “We’ll use those openings to make our way to the towers and we’ll pick off any stragglers along the way. Once we’ve made it through, we’ll broadcast the rest of Obscura’s destruction over the radio. This is one broadcast I doubt any Envoy leader would miss. Jeremy the Elusive won’t disappoint us.”
Zephyr nodded slowly, still uncertain. “Say he does get the signal? What happens after…?”
Seraph nonchalantly looked to the clouds above. They were coming in from Sombrenburg, from the southwest. If he hoped to put his plan into action, he would need to prepare before the oncoming storm. He wasn’t about to let a little wind delay his plans any further. Already once they had gotten in his way and it had cost him a sibling. “When Jeremy receives my little invitation, I think he’ll send a small army of thugs, just like our small army of thugs...only more of them, perhaps? I doubt he will take any risks.”
Zephyr gasped. “His army? But I thought you planned to avoid Envoy firepower if possible?”
Seraph nodded. “Of course. I expect his armies to come, but I don’t expect us to be fighting that army.”
Zephyr wasn’t sure he was following, and Seraph didn’t want to fill him in. Still, Zephyr couldn’t help but ask, “What, then, do you plan to do, Seraph?”
The boy sat in the question like a child in his toy room. Then he held his arms out, feeling for the pretend piano he wished to orchestrate. It was like a game he had played before, only this time, it wasn’t a piano or even a game he would find in his toy room. No, these were different from the toys he had played with in the past. These were living, breathing pawns being lined up like lambs to the slaughter, all on his command. He chuckled, rolling around in the question Zephyr had posed, and then said playfully, “I could let you in on what I plan to do, but that would be telling!” He turned to Zephyr with a bipolar mesh of playfulness and bitterness in his voice. “Our family is all too adept at keeping secrets, isn’t it?”
With that, Zephyr froze in silence. He knew Seraph’s answer wasn’t enough to satiate his queries and he also knew that their followers would need a more direct answer from the boy. He wanted to question Seraph further, but the undertone in Seraph’s voice felt just like the time the child had posed the dear question to Zephyr—Are you with me? It was Seraph’s way of demanding obedience and trust from his servant, and Zephyr didn’t plan to disappoint. There was no reason to irk the child further, knowing his mind was wrapped around something else entirely, around vengeance and not spite. With that, Zephyr kept his mouth shut.
Growing impatient, Seraph turned to his followers, all hesitant as he motioned them toward the edge to look down on their target. “What do you guys think?” Seraph asked. “Do you think it’s time to spread the gospel of pain?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I think it’s time, everyone! We’ll be invading Obscura soon enough.”
A silence loomed over the group along with restlessness in most them as they raised hands in objection. “Isn’t our doing this like asking Jeremy to kill us?” one of them even asked.
“In a way, yes,” the boy responded, to their shock. Seraph knew what Zephyr was thinking. They need an explanation, Seraph. But Seraph didn’t have too much time left. The clouds were gathering over the horizon. The skies had already grown dark again, awaiting the cries of the storm to fill the calm breeze that now graced Seraph’s face.
“How?” an ex-Envoy begged. “How can we go through with this? Some of our friends are down there. We know people here. We have families here!” Seraph cocked a head at that one. “And I had a family in Sombrenburg,” he hissed. “It’s gone now.” He turned away, saying lightly under his breath, “It’s nothing now, nothing but ashes and dust.”
A few more blurted out complaints, irritating Seraph even more. “The Envoys will wipe us off the face of the Earth. Please reconsider.”
Disbelief bounced around in Seraph’s head. Had they not seen his prowess? The testament to his power? He had bent the very fabric of reality. Was that not enough?
Seraph was beginning to lose himself. It wasn’t bad enough he had a headache already, one that swirled and swished along his head with the voices of Greer’s meals. Now he had to listen to voices outside his head, too. Fair to say, he wasn’t too happy.
