Apocalypse Rising (16 page)

The hooded man took a couple of steps away from the outermost circle, and whispered, "It shouldn't be."

The girl's mumbling was the only sound in the room for some time as Tony tried to decide what he should do to shut her up. He considered beating her until she was quiet, but she made him nervous. She was a shell, a hollow vessel emptied by the priest on the far side of the room, and Tony knew when he was out of his league. It was time for him to walk away. "Screw this, Gabriel. I am out of here."

"You can't leave now," Father Gabriel said in a panic. He did not want to be left alone in the basement with her. She was supposed to be a regular girl, a junkie, nothing more.

"The hell I can't," Tony said. "I didn't sign up for this." He turned to look at the writing on the floor.

"At least put the hood back on," Gabriel shouted.

"Fine." Tony turned back to the girl, only to find her staring at him. She continued to mumble, but her eyes were alive, where they had been dead a moment before. "What the hell are you staring at?" he yelled at the girl, his spittle splashing against her face like garlic scented rain.

Lilly did not flinch. Her eyes stared at Tony and her lips moved, but she did not as much as blink. Tony slapped her hard enough to rock her head to the side. She turned her head back toward her assailant with the slow precision of a clock. When her eyes locked on his, her blood-smeared lips stopped moving. The mumbling continued.

Tony could not move. He wanted to move. He wanted to run from the girl and never look back. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he strained every muscle in his body. He fell to his knees, blood dripped from his ears and tears flowed from his eyes. He whimpered in agony.

The mumbling stopped and Tony regained control of his body. He fell backwards and scuttled away from Lilly, back through the mystical circle, leaving a mess of smeared chalk in his wake.

"Fool!" shouted Father Gabriel. "You have ruined the circle."

There was a loud snap, like the report of a gun, and the bonds that held the girl in place were broken, though she made no move. "Come to me, priest," she said. Her voice pure, but it was not her own. Hours earlier, he had talked with her at length and she had confided in him what Justin was. She was just a girl, but she terrified him.

He looked at the door and considered running, but he doubted he would make it. He walked around the edge of the outer circle, careful not to disturb the chalk despite Tony's mistake. He knew that circle would have to be redrawn and he did not want to make more work for himself than necessary. Father Gabriel stopped in front of the smeared portion at Tony's feet, and waited. Lilly's voice was soft, yet it echoed throughout the room as she spoke. "And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death."

Tears streamed down Father Gabriel's face as he whispered, "it's not possible. It can't be him."

Father Gabriel's eyes were drawn to Lilly's. They turned white as he watched, and he sensed a change in her. Whatever force had taken control was gone, but it had left its mark upon the girl's eyes. He made his way through the circle and knelt before her. "Child, are you okay?" he asked, forgetting his role in holding her captive.

She turned her blind eyes to him and said, "He is awoken."

The cavern is silent. I sense everyone in the room, but they are silent. The goblins are dead, most of them by my hand, and the elves are terrified. They invited a monster into their home and do not know what to do about it. I suppose they might attack if I had not shown myself to be on their side. I cannot blame them for fearing me.

The wizard escaped, but I suspect it was an automatic defense rather than a conscious attempt to save his own life. I can sense traces of teleportation magic emanating from where he stood moments earlier. He broke through the barrier and set me free. The backlash would have killed a lesser man. This Vandal bears remembering.

I float above the bodies of the fallen goblins and go to the crumpled form of Julius. I did not know him well, but I counted him a friend. I set down beside him and pick up his broken body. I know he is dead, his soul consigned to oblivion, but I would see his body given a proper burial. I walk toward the center of the room, pushing aside goblin corpses with my will, and set his body down at my feet.

"Stand back," I command as I focus my power and convert the blades and guns of the goblins into a funeral pyre of pine and oak. "Bring your dead to me," I say and the elves obey.

One by one I place their battered corpses upon the pyre until it is filled from one end to the other. I search my memory and find the funeral rites of the elves. With a wave of my hand, I clean their bodies and convert their tattered rags into the finest fabrics. Thick clouds of gun smoke become White flowers of every sort to decorate their hair and cover their funeral pyre.

"You honor them with the old ways," Gloriana says from behind me.

"They deserve nothing less," I say. "Your people have suffered for a long time, and these brave elves died fighting an enemy that was mine." I turn and look at her. "You know me for who I am."

"Yes," she says, "I remember you now."

“If I had known, I could have avoided all of this.” I keep my eyes on the fire, watching it return the bodies to the universe. “I chose to forget, and I would have been happy to remain ignorant, but my absence left a void that could not last.”

“My people do not fear you the way the younger races do, but your presence was missed.” Gloriana steps up beside me and places her hand upon my sleeve. “This is not your fault. I could have sent you away the moment Julius brought you to me, but I sensed as he did that there is something more to you than who, and what, you are.”

“I hope you are right, Your Majesty.” I feed my will into the fire and offer a silent prayer to the Father, asking him to offer comfort to their families.

“Make it so,” she says. “You are the master of your own destiny, but I believe you have awakened at this time for a reason.”

“You are mistaken, Elf Queen. My destiny is not my own. I spoke an oath to the father millennia ago, and now I must return to his service.” The pyre collapses on itself and the fire flares as it consumes the last remnants of the elves.

“Do you know where He is?” she asks?

“Of course, He is upon the Throne as always.” I say.

“Are you sure of that? Reach out to Him.”

Gloriana's response confuses me, so I try to contact Him. My mind flies to the edge of Heaven itself, but I sense a change. It has been ages since I have returned home, but I cannot imagine that the changes would be so great in such a short time. There is an emptiness that I do not understand. Heaven has always been a place brimming with light and life, with the Throne and the Father at its center, but today it feels hollow.

“He is not there is he?” Gloriana says.

“I…I don’t understand.” I stammer. “Where can he be?”

"That is the grand question," Gloriana said. "Being as removed as I am, I was unaware of His absence until I heard the rumors. I sought Him out, but my missives went unanswered. That is not so unusual that it would make me worry, but I tried a more direct approach, just as you did now, and I could not sense him within the confines of heaven." Gloriana looks down at her feet and shakes her head. "The Throne is empty and all but the dead are barred from Heaven"

"Only the dead may enter?" I ask as a plan begins to form in my mind.

Gloriana looks up at me, one of the few who will do so without flinching, and says, "Only the dead. The earth-bound Angels are stuck in their physical form, and those who were caught outside the gates, when He disappeared, have taken up residence in purgatory."

"Interesting," I say aloud. My mind races as I remember the last time the gates of heaven were locked. The Morning Star had rebelled and Heaven shook with the fury of battle until He cast the rebels out.

"You know," says Gloriana, "I think that your appearance is more than simple coincidence." She takes my hand and leads me away from the remnants of the funeral pyre. "How long have you been hidden away?"

"It has been nearly two-thousand years now. In another twenty years, I will have spent two millennia walking amongst mortal man." We stop at the tunnel entrance that led back to the elf village. I look back over my shoulder at the elves in mourning and the piles of goblin dead. "I should dispose of the filth," I say with too much venom.

Gloriana's laugh is like the chiming of a too small church bell. "You have done more than enough today. What you need is a cup of tea and a moment to think. You have been through a lot and the last thing you need is to go rushing off without considering the repercussions."

I reluctantly look away and let her lead me into the tunnel. I duck my head, noting that I have grown taller since my awakening, and say, "You are probably right. I have spent a lot of time running lately, but I haven't done a whole lot of thinking."

I follow her through the tunnels, into the village, and to her doorway. It feels like a lifetime ago that I stood before her door with Julius, but it was less than two days ago, and mere hours since Accantha led me to battle. "Accantha," I say, "is she alright? Did she survive the battle?"

"She did," Gloriana says as she opens the door. "She was injured, but few of the survivors were not." She walks inside and I follow. I remember her home being more spacious, but my perspective has changed since I left. Her voice cuts through my distraction. "I can summon her here, if you wish."

"No, that won't be necessary," I say. "I am glad she survived."

Gloriana leads me back to the room where I had slept and offers the bed to me. "You may sit and talk, or you may sleep, whichever you prefer." She leaves the room and I remove the armor and helm. I set it in a tidy pile at the foot of the bed along with the sword. The goblin blood that had stained it during the battle fell away on the walk to the village, so the elf-crafted tools of war gleamed brightly in the firelight. Gloriana returns and hangs a teapot from the stone hook above the fire. "It will not take long to steep. Do not worry," she says. "This is a much different brew from the last one."

I laugh and say, "I certainly don't need to be brought back to reality today. I am about as real as I can get right now."

"Yes, I would say you are," she says. I feel her feeding the fire with her will, speeding up the steeping process. The fragrant smell of herbs wafts from the pot as the water nears boiling. "That should do it," Gloriana says. She lifts the pot from the hook with her power and pours the tea into two, small, stone cups.

"Thank you." I sip from the cup, and the tea burns my lips as it enters my mouth. I could ignore the hurt, but my time amongst the mortals has taught me the value of pain. I am not a masochist, but pain reminds you that you are alive. Too many of my heavenly brethren go through their lives without feeling pain, and they forget they can be killed even though their lifespan is nearly infinite in length. It has been untold eons since the Angels have gone to war and our own immortality may be our downfall when we are called to battle next.

“Now that you remember everything, what will you do?” Gloriana asks as she releases the teacup. It floats there unmoving, as if it were sitting on an invisible end table.

I scowl at my teacup and say, “I don’t quite remember everything, at least not like normal.” I take another drink of tea and set the cup on the floor between my feet. “All of my memories are here,” I say as I tap my skull with my middle finger, “but they are filed away funny, like a library. If I know what I’m looking for it is easy enough to pull up the specific memory, but they don't come up by association.”

“Like the funeral rites of my people from ten-thousand years ago,” Gloriana says. She picks up the cup, takes a sip and returns it to the open air. She makes using the power look so easy.

“Exactly," I say. "I wanted to remember what they were, so I focused my thoughts and reached back to a time before I walked amongst men. The memory I sought for surged into place, filling a gap in my mind. It was not always like this. Back before I relinquished my position, my memories were my own and organized the way they were meant to be. This must be some sort of after effect.”

“Curious,” she says. “I don’t suppose there is any record of this sort of thing happening before.”

I focus my thoughts and search back through time to find a memory, but there is none. I was a special case. The Father gave me the right to return, but he refused it to all others except his one and only son. “There are no examples. I am a singular event in celestial history, so all of this is very new.” I shake my head and frown. “I wish I could speak with the Father. His advice would do me well.”

Gloriana laughed. “I’m afraid that you will have to get used to not having his advice. It took me a while to do so, but it can be…liberating.”

“I know something about that sort of liberation. I have rarely sought his advice during my time on this world, and when I did I do not think he heard it.” I drink the last of my tea and set the cup back on the ground. “But I have come back, and I would like a word with him, so I think the next course of action will be to figure out where he is hiding.”

“Perhaps,” she says, “but I think you are missing something.”