Apocalypse Rising (22 page)

I watch Robert and Haden fighting. Both of them are skilled, and evenly matched, striking and dodging around the edge of the magic circle. I remember Robert being much better with the sword, but it has been centuries since I have seen him and the Host has not been active for thousands of years. I do not recall Haden from before the Fall, but he holds his own. Robert's superior training begins to show and the balance turns in his favor. Fire and lightning erupts from the free hand of Haden, only to have it deflected by Robert's efficient use of the Power. The battle is a dance of brutal beauty that is rapidly coming to a close.

The look on Haden's face tells me that he knows the battle is lost. His brow furrows moments before he launches a furious barrage of attacks with blade and magic, forcing Robert to take a step back in defense. The Demon lunges for the stairs and makes it to the landing before Robert emerges from the wall of smoke, the edges of his robes burning, and with a long sweep of his sword, he cuts the Achilles tendon of the left leg. Haden screams and falls into the basement wall. Before he can do more than roll over, Robert is upon him.

Robert thrusts the sword through the Demon's right shoulder, pinning him to the basement wall. Haden screamed in agony as the Light infused blade cleanses his tainted flesh. “Bastard!” he yelled. “He promised me!” Tears stream down his face. “He said I would have a place of power.” His words were pleading; begging for understanding, but Robert is unsympathetic.

“You should have made your deals more carefully, Demon.” Robert withdraws his sword and with a single, clean motion, removes the head of Haden. Flames erupt from the stump of the Demon's neck and it burns the brick and mortar of the basement wall before the body tumbles over, and the last spark of life leaves it.

Robert leans over the rapidly decaying form of Albert's demonic assistant and wipes the blood from his sword. "You have to clean the blood off quickly or it will weaken the blade," he says as he turns back to us. "It is always gratifying to remove a Fallen from the universe. Wouldn't you agree, Reaper?"

"I suppose so, but I have never taken pleasure in doing so," I say as I stand and offer a hand to Accantha. "I can never forget they were once our brothers." She takes my hand and pulls herself up. Her legs shake beneath her, but she remains standing.

"They are filthy traitors and nothing more," Robert says. His lip curls into a snarl. "Father should have destroyed them at the time of the Fall rather than let their poison infect the universe." He takes a couple of steps toward us. "It is a problem I look forward to rectifying soon."

Robert takes another step toward us and my feeling of relief turns to worry. "The Demon said he was promised power, Robert. What was he talking about?" I keep my eyes locked on him while I search the room with my peripheral vision, trying to locate my sword.

"Not with me," he says as he takes another step, "but with Neville."

I stagger backwards. "No, that's not possible," I whisper.

"Who's Neville?" Accantha asks as she keeps me from falling.

The grin that splits Robert's face is filled with malice. "Neville was the Reaper's assistant," he says. "I would go so far as to say that they were even friends. I say they were friends because the friendship ended almost two-thousand years ago when the Reaper left his post for the life of a man." Robert wrests the tip of his sword on the ground and drags it across the floor as he walks toward us. The screech of steel digging a narrow channel in concrete is deafening; it drowns out all other sound but his voice. "You abandoned him, Reaper, and he was never the same for it. He jumped at the opportunity to live on this festering little planet when the prophesy was spoken." Robert shakes his head and says, "I don't know if it was in hopes of seeing you again or because he wanted to bear witness to your death."

Robert's words echo in my ears. I never considered how my departure would affect the others. Neville had been more than a friend. He was like a younger brother to me, and I taught him much of what I knew. He could easily step in to take my place if I was to die. He would make an exceptional Angel of Death. "I'm sorry, Robert, I didn't know," I say.

"Sorry isn't good enough, Reaper!" he yells. "I have spent centuries watching him search for you. Occasionally, he would find word of you in stories, but he never caught up with you. For a while I feared he would go mad, and perhaps he did. In time, he came to believe that you left because you knew the truth; the Father's love for us ended when he offered redemption to humanity."

“We were no longer favored, but we had matured. We are the elder shepherds to watch his flock. It does not mean he loves us any less,” I say “I left because I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help the people in a real way, not through a metaphor."

"It doesn't matter," Robert says as he stops walking.

Accantha and I are backed against the wall. "So what now?" I ask.

He lifts his sword and points it at my chest. "While the Father is away, the earth bound Angels will gain dominion over the world of man. We will reform the cosmos free from the spawn of Lucifer, where the mortal races will know their place and they will worship us."

"You speak of madness, Robert," I say. "You were there when the Morning Star declared his war upon the Creator. Is your plan any different than his?"

"Of course it is," Robert responds. "Lucifer would plunge the universe into darkness and see the mighty rule the weak. It would be chaos of the highest order." He places his hand over his heart and says, "We will rule with wisdom and justice. The weak will be cared for and order will reign supreme throughout the universe."

"As long as no one disagrees with you," I add.

Robert glares at me. "Order requires discipline, Reaper, so dissenters will have to be dealt with."

"I am glad that I will not survive to witness this perfect universe of yours." I pull myself up to my full height and keep my eyes locked on Robert. I am in agony, but I will not let Robert see it.

The leader of the Host's First Legion laughs and says, "Haden was correct. You can be replaced, but I will not let some half-breed take the position. No, I will become Death, and I will teach the mortal races to fear and respect the office once more." He steps close enough that it would be near impossible for me to dodge if he decides to strike me with his sword. "There's no need for a ritual. Killing you will transfer the title to me and will avert the Apocalypse."

I risk looking away and see Lilly still bound within the circle, but her gaze is aimed at the three of us. "Tell me, Robert, what was the prophesy that brought you and Neville here."

He opens his mouth to speak, but it is Lilly that answers. "Death will awaken from his slumber and the Horsemen will follow. Through his efforts the Apocalypse will come and the Lord will return."

“You lie!” Robert yells as he turns toward Lilly.

Accantha dives to the right, grabs the sword she had given me and rolls back up to her feet before Robert even knows what is happening. She lunges forward, the sword poised to slip beneath his breastplate, but Robert knocks the blow aside with his sword. He pivots on one foot while lifting the sword up high, before he turns the momentum back around and brings the blade down upon the wrists of the elf. Her scream shatters the air as her hands hit the floor.

“No!” I reach out and step forward, but stop when Robert grabs her, pulls her back to him, and holds his sword to her throat.

“She’s not dead yet, Reaper, but she will be soon unless she gets some help,” Robert growls. “I’ve heard the elves are miracle workers when it comes to healing. Perhaps I can get her to them in time. What do you think?” Robert lifts his sword a little more and Accantha tips her head back to keep from having her throat cut. Blood drips from the stumps where her hands used to be, but she has stopped screaming and looks ready to faint.

“I’m going to kill you, free the oracle, and take my friend home,” I say.

“I have a name you know,” Lilly shouts.

“Not now, Lilly.” I want to smile at her interruption, but smiling is just not in the mix at the moment.

“You must think an awful lot of yourself if you think you can take me, Reaper. You have no weapon, no power, and no chance.” Robert lowers his sword and flings the barely conscious elf across the room. She hits the floor with a sickening thud. “So let’s end this shall we? I’ll gladly take your head, and if you don’t resist I’ll even take her back to her people.”

“I can’t let you do that,” I say. “Leave now and I won’t end your existence.” I assume a fighting stance. I know I do not stand a chance against Robert, but I have to try.

“Very well then,” he says. “I would like this to be more sporting, but I prefer certainty over sportsmanship.” He lunges forward, intent on a quick kill. I step to the side, dodging most of the strike but taking a long cut along my ribs. “Very good, Reaper, I see you still have some skills, but it does not matter.” A swing of the sword sends me falling backward, and I am no more successful dodging this attack than I was the last. I fall to the ground bleeding from both wounds, and scurry back as Robert advances. “All too inevitable, Reaper,” he says. “Back before the rise of man you may have beaten me in a fair fight, but this is not then and this is not a fair fight.” Robert flips the sword around and grips the hilt with both hands. “I would say it is time to meet your maker, but you’ve met him and we both know that death won’t take you to him.”

Time stills as the sword descends toward my chest. I feel cold, knowing that I cannot save my friends, and that traitors will succeed. “I’m sorry, Father,” I whisper in my thoughts.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” says a voice so familiar, yet nearly forgotten. “You have not failed me. You have been away for a long time as men judge such things, but I have not yet exhaled since you left. All you need to do is remember.” I remember the words spoken to me by Julius just days ago.

“I am trying, but I am confused. My memories are scattered and I cannot sort them out.” I would give anything at this moment to be with Him, to stand in His light.

“Stop trying to remember the past,” the voice says. “You were created for action. Do what you feel is right and the rest will follow.” When the words stop, I know the voice is gone and I am alone once more. I smile, knowing that I am never truly alone.

Robert’s face is etched with shock when his sword is deflected to the side, its point buried in the basement floor. I use the Power to create a ball of force that sends the traitorous Angel flying backward. He manages to hold onto his sword and drags the tip into the floor to help him slow down before he hits the wall on the far side of the room.

I use the Power to help me stand and keep me from falling back down. I slam the butt of my scythe on the ground and the room shakes. “Thank you, Robert. I have been struggling to remember who I am and what it means to be the Angel of Death. Thousands of years have passed since I have held my scythe, and do you know what makes it special? It is not a simple weapon forged by man, elf or Angel; it is an extension of my own being, so summoning it is simply an act of will.” I whirl my scythe about with one hand, an old exercise designed to loosen up the muscles, and finish by striking the handle on the floor once more. “You said that you thought I might best you in a fair fight back before man’s ascendency, but I think you overestimate your own abilities.”

“Very well,” Robert growls, “let’s see whose confidence is more deserved.”

He charges at me across the confined space of the basement and I brace for the impact. When our weapons collide the air fills with sparks and the screams of tortured steel. Our blades clash, neither of us gaining an advantage as we battle around the edge of the circle. Robert is healthy, well practiced with his sword, and the confining space of the church basement makes the longer reach of my scythe a hindrance.

I need space if I am going to defeat the warrior Angel. I try to think of a way to get him up the stairs without putting myself at his advantage, but nothing comes to mind until I remember the advice given by the Father. I was made for action. I trust in my instincts and I let them guide me. I draw the Power into myself hoping to fuel some inspiration, but the quantity I am bringing in is so much that it becomes visible to the naked eye as long ropes of undulating light. Robert attempts to do the same, but I strike with my scythe and sever the ropes as quickly as he can form them. “I don’t think the Father would approve of your use of the Power anymore,” I say. “You may recall that he doesn’t like to share with traitors.”

The more I keep Robert from the Power, the more he tries to touch it, until he is no longer trying to strike me and is focusing his efforts on preventing my attacks. “Stop that,” he says. “I’m not a traitor. I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“Who are you to say what needs to be done? What makes you, Neville, or anyone else wiser than the Father?” I demand. “I once thought that I knew better, that I could do more here on earth, than was being done by Heaven, but I know now that there is nothing we can do without him. He has a plan that encompasses all of us in its design. He is an engineer of surpassing brilliance, and we are all lovingly crafted cogs in his grand machine. To think that any of us is more capable is an act of unsurpassed ego.” I siphon off a bit of the Power I have collected to knock him backward. I look at Lilly, who watches us intently. “A good friend of mine helped me understand that.” I point the shaft of my scythe at Robert and say, “It is a shame that you did not have such a friend.”