Archangel Evolution (27 page)

Gabriel led the army onto the battlefield.
Not in their midst or behind them, like some puppeteer who never
really got his hands dirty, Gabriel walked ahead of them, more at
the front than those on the front lines.

He had no fear, no concern for his own life.
Like so many battles he had been in before, he thought only of
victory. Defeat was a term used to describe his enemies’ futures,
foreign to his own life.

His finely tuned angel ears picked up a
slight sound, like a pin dropping to the floor. Only there was no
pin, no floor. From the corner of his eye he saw it: a flash of a
bright sword, a flare of fire from a burning staff. The sound had
come from another fight. Dionysus versus Clifford. Evil versus
Good.

He swiveled his head forward again, trying to
focus on the gleaming, marching angel army headed towards him.
Instead his thoughts fell naturally to Taylor. First to her looks:
her face, her hair, her smile. Then her personality: beautiful and
funny and kind and courageous. The horn had already sounded when he
realized that his feet had stopped moving.

The battle had begun.

“T
he birds are on
the move!” Kiren said.

Gabriel’s face melted from Taylor’s mind as
she snapped her head to the right to see four bright angels soaring
above the trees. Their direction was clear: the Warrior’s Plateau.
There was no doubt that Clifford was their target.

“As planned,” Taylor said.

Kiren leapt on her back as she spread her
wings. Chris disappeared.

Taking a deep breath, Taylor threw herself
off the branch, freefalling for a few seconds to gain momentum
before allowing her wings to catch a gust of wind and propel her
and her rider forwards and up. They gained altitude rapidly, moving
on an angle, not towards their enemy, but at a spot that their
enemy would reach in a few seconds, like a defending football
player rushing down the field to stop a ball carrier streaking down
the sideline.

One second, two seconds, three. Taylor
watched the nearest Archangel in her peripheral vision; she was
coming closer, closer, not noticing Taylor’s approach yet. Taylor
thought her name was Johanna. She felt Kiren’s hands tighten on her
shoulders as she prepared to leap from her back.

Just when she thought she would collide with
Johanna without her even noticing her presence, Johanna’s eyes
twitched to the left, widening as she saw that Taylor was nearly on
top of her. Kiren let out a scream as she launched herself from
Taylor’s back. Johanna swerved rapidly to the right and it looked
like Kiren would miss her target, but then she disappeared in
mid-leap, suddenly reappearing on Johanna’s back, using a pinpoint
teleport to clear the remaining distance she needed.

There was an explosion of fire and Taylor saw
Johanna start to fall from the sky, burning from head to toe. Kiren
remained on her back, landing quick rabbit punches onto her head
and shoulders. Johanna screamed in agony.

With the noisy attack on Johanna, the initial
element of surprise was expended, and the other three New
Archangels reacted to Taylor’s presence. They veered to the left,
honing in on Taylor’s flight path. Immediately she recognized
David, and her heart skipped a beat. He looked so much like
Gabriel. He was the first to attack.

Although the horn had sounded only for a
moment, it continued to ring through Gabriel’s head, helping to
clear his muddled thoughts for the first time since they marched
out on the battlefield. He had no thoughts of Taylor, or of
Clifford, or of destiny, or of victory. Also for the first time, he
took a look at his opponents on the other side of the field. That’s
when he saw the varied expressions on their faces.

Unlike the faces on his men and women—hard,
determined, ready—the faces across from him were different. Some
were hard, angry, but not in preparation for battle. Angry for
another reason. Angry because they saw so many angels rising
against them—all traitors in their minds. Other faces were
surprised, and some even appeared scared, or unsure of themselves.
Not in a million years would they expect an angel force of such
magnitude to join the demons in opposition. The last expression
Gabriel saw was sadness, as if the thought of fighting—and possibly
killing—so many of their brothers and sisters caused them great
anguish. Maybe they weren’t all evil, weren’t all lost causes. Just
confused, like he had been.

Gabriel knew what he had to do.

He stopped, raising his open hands to signal
for his troops to follow suit. There were some on both sides who
had already begun running, faces full of rage, hearts set on
killing, on destroying. When Gabriel stopped, both sides stopped.
Somehow he knew they would.

He spoke, his voice loud and clear. “Angel
brothers, angel sisters. You have been deceived!” He pronounced
each word slowly and crisply to ensure their meaning was clear.
“Dionysus has a plan, but it’s not what you think. He would have
you all think him a humanitarian, but he is not. He wants to
enslave humankind, destroy their right to choose, take their
freedom. He is a liar!”

Gabriel paused, waiting for a reaction. The
angel army began murmuring, low and rumbling, some speaking to each
other and others to whoever might be listening. “You’re the liar!”
a large angel on the front lines yelled.

“All lies!” yelled another. “Demons are
scum!”

Gabriel shook his head. “No! You have it
wrong, backwards. These angels behind me have heard the truth, have
seen evidence of the truth, and now they believe. Will you listen
to what they have to say? Will you listen to their message?”

A group of five or six bulky angels broke
from their ranks and approached Gabriel. Their hands were open and
arms extended, a sign of peace. Gabriel’s heart leapt in his chest.
The impossible suddenly seemed possible. No more blood spilled, no
more death, no more fighting.

Three of the angels led the way, two
following close behind. When they were within two steps of coming
face to face with Gabriel, they stopped. “We will listen,” the
angel in the middle said calmly. His words were friendly, honest.
“And so will my friends,” he said, moving to the side to create an
opening for the two angels in the rear.

As the hole opened up, Gabriel caught a glint
of steel as two blades were thrust at his chest.

A basketball-sized orb shot from David’s
hands. It would be an easy block, just an initial volley. Taylor
fired her own orb to seek and destroy the incoming missile. Prior
to impact, however, David’s orb split into three, one meeting
Taylor’s and exploding violently. The other two danced around the
explosion and reformed into a larger orb. It was too late, she was
too surprised. The orb contacted her chest, sending blades of pain
through her entire body and throwing her backwards through the
air.

As she fell, she tried to block out the pain
and regain control, but found that her wings refused to obey her
commands, like when she was first learning to fly. She spiraled out
of control, holding her breath as she prepared to crash onto the
hard earth. And then Chris was there, holding her hand.
Twisting-spinning-funneling: They reappeared on the Warrior’s
Plateau, where Chris set Taylor onto her feet.

Only problem: She couldn’t feel her legs.
They collapsed, knees buckling. Her brain commanded her arms to
break her fall, but they ignored her, flopping like rubber, as
useless as dead fish. She smashed face first onto the dust.

Chris knelt beside her. “Are you alright?” he
asked.

Before she understood his question, she heard
the fierce twanging of steel beyond him. Looking around his shadowy
form, she saw Dionysus whirling his sword like a baton, recklessly
pushing Clifford back towards the edge of the cliff. The old demon
wielded his staff with skill, blocking each blow with precision,
careful to ensure he didn’t lose a finger in the process.

“I’m fine,” Taylor lied. “Help Clifford.”

Chris nodded and left her. Every cell in her
brain struggled to regain control of her muscles, but it was as if
she were paralyzed from the neck down, only able to twist her head
from side to side.

Pinned to the ground, Taylor was aware of a
presence approaching behind her. She closed her eyes, not wanting
to see Death.

Although his body had relaxed, his mind had
not. Realizing the danger, Gabriel’s mind forced his torso to bend
backwards, forced his hands to the ground. As if in slow motion,
Gabriel saw the twin swords slide past above him with barely an
inch to spare.

His quick mind was already three moves ahead,
and his body obeyed. Kicking upwards heavily he caught each of his
assailants in the head with a boot while springing back and away to
safety. Vertical again, he saw that his maneuver had knocked the
angels to the earth and dislodged their swords. While they
struggled to regain their feet, Gabriel drew his own sword and
rushed to them, picking up one of their swords as he passed it.
With a deft flick of each wrist, Gabriel pointed the blades to each
angel’s neck.

Under ordinary circumstances Gabriel would
have killed them immediately. It wasn’t that he was coldhearted or
enjoyed killing; rather, it was the law of war. Kill or be killed.
No mercy. No second chances. And yet he paused, watching his
adversaries carefully. The three angels that had escorted the two
assassins made no move to help their fallen comrades. The downed
angels’ eyes were wide with terror, convinced that their last
breaths were moments away, maybe less. Gabriel realized that this
was a life-changing moment. Kill them and he could carry on the
tradition of war, a tradition started by Dionysus. Spare them and
perhaps things could change.

It was a risk.

If he didn’t kill them, one of them might
kill him or someone he loved. His destiny seemed to hang on the
very edges of the swords he wielded.

With a sigh, he retracted the swords, tossing
one to the ground next to its twin and returning his own to its
scabbard. He said, “We do not wish to kill anyone. Please, let us
speak as equals. Allow us to share our message of peace.”

He extended a hand to one of the attackers.
“Please, my brother, take it.”

Hesitantly, the angel extended a hand as if
Gabriel’s touch might burn him or send an electric shock through
his body. Instead, Gabriel grasped his hand firmly and pulled him
to his feet. Then he did the same for the other angel. “My
brothers,” he said to them. “I have a remarkable story to tell you.
Can you convince the rest of them to listen?” He gestured to the
army standing behind them.

Instead of responding, one angel said, “Why
did you show us mercy when we would not have done the same for
you?”