Hope's Light

Chapter 18

by Erisian

Book 6

 

If you have yet to read the saga - the tale starts here:

Into The Light

Hope you enjoy!

 

Chapter Eighteen - Threads

 

“Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.”

This questioning statement, posed by the less-than-honest Falstaff to a young prince whom he had counted as a friend, had been a focus of one of the many rigorously assigned essays as part of my original high school’s English class and its focus on Shakespeare - bringing with it debates of loyalty versus duty, and upholding the law versus personal attachments. As a student with no intentions of working law enforcement, I had never believed I’d be faced with such a situation directly.

Except, of course, when safely contained within the crazy scenarios dreamed up by my lawyerly best friend, as we created drama and story to fill many a weekend afternoon and night with intensity of entertainment.

As for the young Prince Harry, his solution was to turn the phrase - and responsibility - back upon his friend:

“No, thou shalt.”

All this and more filled my thoughts.

The declaration of crimes echoing across the arena came to an end, the speech by the multi-headed frog in his fashionable red velvet doublet fading as he returned the immaculately scripted scroll to its official cylindric container.

Three prisoners, shoved roughly from behind, stumbled into position and were forced to lower necks towards the row of chopping blocks. Three dark-helmeted and armored executioners, each with differently ornate battle-axes specially sharpened for the occasion by magic and stone, stepped forward to ready simultaneous blows of finality, and the crowd’s mix of jeers and cheers fell silent.

Awareness, prodded by the departed angelic prince’s words, expanded perception of space and time.

Around the platform, warded shields of magic and intent shimmered to not only hold those within securely, but to prevent any incursion from without.

Each demonic duke, filled to their brims by the released energetic fuel from the suffering souls filling their bellies, also had raised their own protections - either personally erected or entrusted to robed sorcerers busily chanting at their sides. And each was restless within their secured boxes, tension flickering behind their varied menagerie of eyes and limbs.

Sweat beaded profusely upon the rolling brow of Duke Valgor, his thick fingers flicking nervously, heavy with rings bearing an unordered mix of opulent metal and gems.

Arrayed about the gladiator pit, tightly packed seats swayed with witnesses - souls and demons both - whose tempers, desires, and fears were as piles of the driest brush awaiting but a spark from which to send towering flames scouring across a countryside. Some, more intently focused than others, braced themselves with hard-fought training to be ready for sudden and violent action.

And under the central gray floor of chiseled rock permanently stained by the despair and visceral glory of its usual entertainments, a further surge of power had gathered, pulsing with tremendous potency as generated by the sum of crowd-cheered destruction exercised over countless cycles. Already its gathered might slipped upward as a rising circle of force to surround the arena entire.

Time held still. Time spiraled forward.

In silence, I saw all.

I saw a duke desperate to cover involvement in an affair which carried implications far outside his station, indeed beyond the small realm upon which he had carved a modicum of power and stability. His numerous failures became apparent as the sorcerer at his side pulled their protective working tightly around himself only.

I saw his contemporaries, fearful each of the other, putting aside such conflict to confront a greater fear triggered by a movement they had tried and failed to fiercely crush, struggling to find the means to end the threat of an idea, one if unchecked could overthrow all that they had built with which to survive an eternity.

And I saw a force of warriors, spread out as pockets amongst the crowd yet bound together by experience and solidarity, determined to use their might and skill to never abandon those who had fought beside them in victories dearly bought in shared blood and sacrifice.

My warriors.

As the brightest of sparks I descended, slipping between moments and through visions of what could be. Past streams of the greenest of balefires, their focused energies striking down protective barriers to scorch and melt all foes beyond. Past still-framed images of a burn-scarred and naked man charging towards the pedestal faster than all other eyes could blink, slicing everything before him with twin blades of purest steel gifted by a heavenly blacksmith. Past the hue and cry of mayhem enfolding at the exits, egresses which the guards could no longer grant access due to the rise of energetic barriers ready to incinerate any who dared cross.

Past the triggering of the trap intended to consume guilty and innocent alike.

Wings, bursting with blinding need, spread wide before the prisoner’s pedestal to sweep all such possibilities aside. Crouching on manifested knee before the central captive, a prisoner’s eyes met mine, and with a word time was granted for us alone. All else became stuck, held motionless as a perfectly frozen tableau across a wide tapestry of color and emotion - even his daughters were caught in the middle of lowering towards stones awaiting their vulnerable necks.

To him only I spoke.

“Hello Vance.”

One eye widened, as the other no longer could. With hands still bound behind, the tall fiddler upon knees straightened his back - lifting head away from the stone block. “Ahh. And here I had begun to doubt you would ever return. Please, milady, forgive this lapse.” Raspy was each breath, and trembling was the stubble above a lip where a proud and glorious mustache had once reigned.

“I fear there is more to forgive than that, my friend.”

“Friend? With a single word you dare encourage an old and ravaged heart.” He coughed, then swallowed the bloody phlegm the spasm had produced. “Yet we both realize the complexities of the present exceed such a concept.”

“Do they? Granted it is true that this is not my realm.”

“Interference across domains is troublesome, be it between sovereigns, nations, or realities. Is it not?”

“You understand. Except I believe all this was arranged deliberately in order to bring me here.”

“Oh?” He suppressed a second cough. “Again I beg forgiveness, as I must thereby admit limitation of vision - for your presence, I daresay, is the exact opposite to the desires of these dukes.”

“It is, especially as they schemed to destroy as many of mine as they could - regardless of cost. Which is precisely why my spirit was bound to arrive, a truth understood and calculated upon by those who allowed these events to coalesce as they have.”

Weary shoulders slumped. “Alas. I should have realized. The Sarim: do they intend to fight you?”

“No. Many wish to hide behind my wings in the hopes I may defend them against the wrath of Heaven.”

“Is such a threat from Above imminent?”

“I do not know. But it is possible.”

He blinked, and a fresh trickle of blood dripped below the battered eye. “Can you help us? Or at least…free my daughters? Allow me to take the blame for whatever is required.”

“Should I do so, such an act would be considered an acceptance to crown and rule.”

With a rasp-filled laugh, he gave a painful yet tender smile. “Alas. For your fair spirit never desired power, yet here authority corrupts all who grasp at it. And I…I may indeed prefer death than to ever witness such within you.”

“Witness? Witness…” The Light in the wings flared upon an idea. “If there was a way to thread these dilemmas, would you take it?”

“My hands are literally bound. I can take but nothing, only bow to inevitability.”

The bitterness in his words choked at my throat and chest as well as his. “Not so. For you can choose to answer me but one question, though it test pride and loyalty against aiding in taking the full measure of events - and thereby possibly untie that which bind my own.”

“Then ask, my most precious friend.” He inhaled, straightening again as his will struggled to shove tiredness and injury aside. “But be warned: always are there consequences for knowing too much.”

I considered, and my voice echoed within the seized pocket of time. “Vance of the Lilim, your guilt in trafficking in the forbidden tinctures harvested from the Tears of Beliel is clear. But now do I ask: did you engage in this activity at the orders of your mother, Lilith the Victorious, or at the behest of Abagor, Prince of the Maschitim, and overseer of this realm?”

Unflinching were weary eyes as he met my gaze. “Only to you would I offer such confession: I know not her purpose, but yes. The vast majority of the waters were indeed received by my illustrious mother and moved elsewhere. As for Prince Abagor, I possess no proof of his involvement. However, either he and his are entirely incompetent, or they too were aware.”

Nodding, I reached decision. “Then, dear friend, may I act.”

Rising above the center of the arena while clad once again in leather armors of white and gold, light flared brighter still as time was allowed to flow once more. Stretching forth a hand, all the bound energies from below threatening to detonate and destroy not only the fighting pit and surrounding stands but also a wide chunk of the entire city, flowed at my command. The tainted colors by which its power had been generated swirled together to be cleansed within shimmering brightness until an orb more blinding than the Spark above hovered over my star-marked palm.

To the crowd, to the demonic dukes, and to certain intermingled and precious warriors did my voice boom out:

“Hear me!!” Pausing, I let the echoes fade into the arena’s stunned silence before continuing. “I, Amariel of the Light, declare that these three prisoners are now taken exclusively into my protective custody! For they are witnesses to violations beyond those committed by demon, Lilim, devil, or soul. Furthermore this crowd is to depart - peacefully and without restraint! None are to die here this day, lest my righteous wrath be unleashed in full measure!”

The ball of intense power pulsed, and strands of lightning flashed outward to rip asunder the demonic shields protecting and imprisoning the pedestal, dukes, and the arena itself.

No one dared argue after that. In fact, the entire stadium and everyone in it - guards around the prisoners included - sank to knees and bowed heads instead.

Okay, so many in the crowd fainted or collapsed into curled balls of frenetic tears and choking sobs.

Hmm. I may have overdone it.

Too bad.

Focusing on the chains binding my friends they fell away, the anchors to the true names of angels woven into the metal maintaining the energetic restrictions pulled free, like ripping open a paper envelope by a simple application of will.

Before the loops of steel even hit the stones, Yaria was in motion. Spinning, a fist lashed towards a would-be executioner’s helmet-protected head.

The strike did not land. A glow of power held her arm a mere inch from deadly contact to the kneeling guard’s temple.

“No, Yaria.” My voice cut across the platform as she struggled against the impermeable force. “If you must seek vengeance, it shall need wait for another time.”

Eyes of deadly night flashed with a rage darker still, but she finally nodded and the glow holding her was allowed to fade. She then knelt by her sister, for Ruyia had huddled against the ground with trembling arms tightly crossing her exposed and naked chest.

Vance also moved to Ruyia to try and gather his daughter into an embrace, but she flinched, scooting back across the stones to get away - much to his shock and additional concern.

“Don’t, Father,” said Yaria, who wrapped arms around her sister instead. “A man’s touch is the last thing she needs.”

Pain of the truth of that filled his face, and he nodded in sad acceptance even while hands ached to reassure she whom he loved.

As Yaria helped Ruyia to her feet, with Vance standing helplessly besides them, I turned to scan the pedestal and stadium beyond. All other entities on the platform remained fixed in place, eyes lowered to avoid being blinded by the wings - some even raising forearms to attempt to block the permeating glow.

But there was one standing now behind me, clad only in boots and loose grey cloth. I had not seen him approach, and smoke wafting away from the soles of those boots spoke of the incredible speed by which they had crossed the arena’s pit before climbing the stairs to stand so close.

A smile creased scarred lips from under a thin hood and my heart melted.

“Twitch!” I almost leapt across the space between us to grab him in a hug, but his raised hand stopped me - and he pointed towards a massive gate set before steps leading up into the stands. Said gate was suddenly gripped by several massive tentacles and simply lifted free of impressive yet insufficient hinges.

A one-eyed and two-storied tall giant in black Japanese-style armor - frightening ogre mask included - casually tossed the gate aside with two of four tentacles. The demon-forged metal kicked up a massive cloud of dust where it hit - a good fifty feet away.

I smiled. “That the exit plan?”

My scarred friend standing at the top of the platform’s stairs nodded, and with an amused bow gestured for me to lead our way.

Behind the giant known as Balus stood a number of other armed and armored demons, all grinning and trying to peer past with rising excitement.

And upon their bodies - be it a limb, chest, or even forehead - each bore a shining star matching that which burned across my palm.

Floating higher into the air, I hovered above the Lilim and Twitch as they then crossed the dirt where many a gladiator had fought and died. As they made their way up into the stands, they passed by the box where Duke Valgor and his mistress, the spidery Duchess Ruchinox, still sat. The Duke’s many-horned head hung low, burying itself into the folds of many chins, and despite the inner raging malevolence and boundless pride, he wrestled against primal fear and avoided my gaze.

But not his mistress.

Rising slowly on many legs, eight dots of deep scarlet stared upward. “Angel.” Not attempting any illusions, her voice was as a steel file across iron.

“Duchess.”

“You have ascended far beyond being but a Nephelim.”

“The self-imposed limitations I struggled against when last we met have lifted.”

“Ah.” Limbs shifted, and moving higher she spoke again. “To what court do you convey these prisoners?”

“They are no longer your concern.”

“With utmost respect, I disagree.”

The Duke reached out with bulging fingers, trying to pull her back down. “Forgive my Duchess her impertinence, oh angel!”

She hissed and shrugged away his touch. “Fool! Your existence depends upon it!”

I paused in the air. “And therefore does yours as well.”

“Naturally.”

The glow surrounding us brightened as I examined her. “I intend to investigate further. There is more at play here than the petty politics of you and yours. What such may portend for this realm and those upon it remains to be discovered.”

A spider leg pointed. “You too were declared allies with the accused. As well as with myself.” It was clear she was trying to convey that if they were implicated - so also would I be.

“Allies, yes - but within limited scope regarding the conflict which was at hand. Though I offer this to honor our previous relationship: you both were meant to die this day. Betrayed by the Ducal Council and others closer still.” I turned meaningful attention to the sorcerer abasing himself behind them. “And I withdraw my protective declaration from the one who would have allowed your destruction.”

If spider eyes could widen, they would have. Instead, with incredible speed, a leg flashed out and the sorcerer collapsed unconscious.

I highly doubt he even saw it coming.

Working quickly, Ruchinox wrapped her victim with thick strands of sticky webbing. “This one will inform us of all, but will live - for we in turn shall honor your words. You have our deepest gratitude, angel.”

Of course letting him live was in truth a much crueler fate. For to these two, while honor was at times a useful coin, mercy was not. Nor was it among the qualities of the souls churning within them, selected and continually twisted to suit the dreadful hosts.

Leaving them to do as was their nature, I caught up with the group climbing past the spectators. More and more of the souls in attendance openly stared - while the demons kept eyes firmly averted.

Including those that were set to guard the entrance to the arena, past which the three battered and weary Lilim stumbled while surrounded by an armed escort of warriors. On the road paved with a multitude of polished stones as they swept past the stadium, a recognizable stagecoach pulled by rather large graxh (looking like plump alligators crossed with even fatter hippopotamuses) had its door opened by a tall Lilim dressed much like a ninja in black form-fitting armor that yet allowed flexible and graceful movement.

Approaching the coach, Vance stopped to look up. “My lady, we are in your custody. Where would you have us go?”

With a quick pulse along the lines of power that bound my warriors, I understood enough of their plan. “Load up with your daughters and let all proceed to the originally intended destination. I shall escort and prevent any ill-conceived interference.”

And that’s exactly what we did. They boarded the coach, the crew formed up around, and I flew directly above to startle everyone in the city we came across - causing many to also fall to the dirt once their spirits recognized just who exactly they beheld.

Quite a few held up arms imploringly as well.

To a large warehouse did the graxh pull the coach, and Balus raised its tall door. To great relief, what lay behind was not what had haunted dreams since the last time I’d seen the lifting of such doors.

No, instead a wide portal crackling with emerald energies awaited to whisk everyone away. Vance insisted his daughters go first, then followed himself - and one by one so did the rest of my pledged warriors.

Until only Twitch and I remained.

Hovering down, I landed before him as wings folded into place across my back.

He didn’t hesitate, for this time no self-doubt interrupted his clear intent.

Without a word he stepped forward, pulling back the hood from fire-scorched features. Yet with beautiful twinkling eyes he leaned in to embrace me with a kiss filled with passion and inner-leaping joy - one I returned in full.

His lips were still incredibly soft.

 

 

Thanks for reading...and especially for commenting!

- Erisian