Of Kings and Demons (29 page)

“You have not changed a bit, that reckless
energy.” A soft and gentle voice, familiar from centuries of acquaintance,
wafted through the air. “Gentle wisdom is more important than brute force and
dark cunning. Have you forgotten your teachings by your former mentors?”
Michael looked towards his injured soldiers—Gwyneth, Maganus, and Jin and
nodded with a smile.

He turned back to Barbatos. “How have you
been, Darius?”

“Michael,” Barbatos continued in his
disbelief. “You are not supposed to be here.”

“Neither should you be, Darius.”

Barbatos struggled for a reply like a
helpless child.

“You have grown strong. I can see the
legions you now command.”

“I defeated your Angels, Michael, I am
better than them!” Barbatos gleamed with a child reporting his achievements.
“All of them.”

“This victory does not merit celebration.”
the Archangel asked. “victory over old friends warrant pride?”

Barbatos’s face swelled. “This is my day.”
He asserted with veins bulging at his temples.

Archangel shook his head. “My child.”

“What is it?” Lord Barbatos strained to
hear Michael’s reply, which was whispered.

“This is not the day for the Demons.”
Michael turned grave. “Not today, Darius,” he said in arctic coolness. “This is
just not your day.”

Before Barbatos could utter another word,
Michael opened his palms and an immense light from the portal grew into
explosive proportions as it swept across the land, sending crushing waves of
power. The white power obliterated all elements of darkness in its
path—Familiars, Demons, Gargoyles, and Trolls— melted like snow under the
blistering heat.

Barbatos was raised from the ground and
hurled like unwanted doll into the depths of the woods. Tried as he might, he
was powerless to halt the manifestation of Archangel’s powers. Soon a burning
sensation engulfed him. He was on fire, flames from the cauldron of Heaven, a
weapon so destructive that only Archangels are allowed to carry them.

Barbatos tried to extricate from the fire,
but it was futile.

Count Raum, commander of the armies, tried to shield himself as well but
was scorched. His armies vaporized as shearing cries for mercy were drowned by
echoes of agony.

Archangel Michael turned towards Castle Valmar and cast a wave. Instantly
a breeze of fire fell on the roof and consumed the structure premise like it
was made of paper. The fire turned it into an incendiary ocean that engulfed
the bastion of the Demons. Tremours shook the ground as all things dark and
evil were consumed by the powers of the Archangel.

After a brief moment, the Archangel
exercised his compassion and put out the fire. Then he snapped his fingers. In
quick procession, the surrounding lands, only moments earlier blanketed in
darkness, transmuted into thriving woods of green and gold, devoid of bloodshed
and carcasses.

Archangel Michael walked up to the Guardian
Angels, his trusted soldiers, Each of his steps brought a path of light that
cleansed the dirt, dust, and blood. With grace, he extended a hand to them. A
path of light fell on the Angels as their wounds healed and the traces of
battle on their faces faded away. Within seconds, the Guardians had regained
their halos and ambience of faith and strength.

They rose and bowed in thanks.

The Archangel turned to Sarah Springs who
was still clasped her hands in prayers. He looked on with benevolence for a
long moment. Michael turned towards Gwyneth, their eyes met momentarily and
then he looked at Sarah again. There was brief moment of communication and
Gwyneth nodded her understanding.

The Archangel then bent over and touched
the girl on the head. Instantly a halo grew over her head. Michael turned to
Mathew and blinked. He clasped his hands and touched Mathew’s forehead with his
pointer finger. The gaping wound on his chest healed and a light of serenity
displaced the grey of death. Mathew, however, remained still.

The Archangel nodded at his solders again
before he mounted his horse and withdrew into the portal. The screen of light
faded gradually and the winds died away.

In place of the dead woods, a blanket of red and blue flowers bloomed at
the first light of dawn. A chorus of chirping brought relief to the survivors
of the night of darkness. No one spoke as they adjusted to the dramatic turn of
events and drastic shift of their plight—from certain extermination to
last-minute salvation.

A miracle. Finally.

The remaining forces of the Angels—fairies
and dwarves—regrouped to take stock of their losses. There were healing
sessions for the injured followed by silent prayers for the dead. Amidst the
solemnity of mourning, there was much relief at a miraculous victory that had
seemed impossible moments earlier, but was eventually sealed by the act of a
insignificant human.

Amongst the scenes of emancipation stood a
sole figure, draped in the graying grief of bereavement —Sarah Springs. She had
been unmoved by the appearance of Archangel Michael, already deeply locked in
her veil of sorrow.

She had her hand in Mathew’s, and his in
hers, tightly as always was their bond. She rubbed away the stains of blood on
his mouth and rubbed his hands gently as a mother would do to her child, as she
searched his body for the warmth of a living being.

Sarah wept, initially in silence, then
aloud to release the wrenching sorrow that she had submerged during the
fighting. The White Angel walked over and gently wrapped her arms around Sarah.
“My dear …”

“Mathew is dead,” she said as rolls of
tears streamed down her cheeks. “Dead.”

Sorrow was not Sarah’s alone. Maganus staggered over to Mathew’s corpse
and wept quietly.

A stoic Jin joined them and said to Sarah,
“Mathew was selfless and placed our lives and yours, above his own. A lesser
man would cower in fear, but not Mathew. The human race should be proud to have
him as a kingling.”

“Mathew will be happy to hear that.” Sarah
managed to say in a frail voice.

“Mathew will be very happy to know you
performed the miracle.”

“What actually happened just now? Was that
…?” Sarah asked.

Gwyneth smiled. “He was the Archangel.”

“Archangel Michael?” Sarah asked, her face
filled with surprise.

Gwyneth nodded and Jin asked Sarah, “What did you do? You brought Michael
to come here.”

“I did not,” she said. “How could I
possibly bring him here? I simply prayed.”

“Sarah, this is unusual. God had forbade
Archangels from interfering with the affairs of humans, unless under very
special circumstances. His arrival was a miracle. You have performed a miracle.
That explains what Barbatos’s inferences about your special status.”

“I’d never expected…” Sarah said.

“Barbatos was right to be worried.” Jin
commented.

Sarah’s eyes grew in disbelief. “Me?”

“What did you prayed for?” Jin inquired.

Sarah hesitated before continuing.

“I wished I was the next to die after
Mathew. Living with the sorrow of losing Mathew was just like death. If anyone
should die, let it be me. I hoped I am next and then Barbatos would stop his
killing.” Sarah wept again. “I prayed to let it be me, pray my death could
bring safety for all of you.”

“The sacrifice.” Gwyneth beamed.

“However, your will to sacrifice brought
the miracle. That selflessness was the sole weapon that defeated the darkness
of Barbatos.” Jin observed.

“It wasn’t Mathew, Sarah,” Gwyneth
explained. “I had thought he was the kingling. But you are actually the one.”

Jin mused. “You little flower, are the
kingling.” 

“Is that important now?” Sarah asked.

The Angels exchanged looks and nodded in unison.

“Your brother died so that you can live.
The value of your life is doubly important now, both to us and to Mathew,”
Gwyneth explained.

“Mathew is gone.”

“He is not gone,” Maganus said and looked
to the sky. “He will be waiting.”

Maganus quickly added. “Mathew is not dead.” His lips formed a firm,
straight line. “I give you my word, he will live, again.”

His words caused the other Guardian Angels
to exchange questioning looks

Sarah bowed as she took Maganus’s hand in hers. “I will wait for Mathew.”

“For now, you must live on and live well,
Sarah. You must, for Mathew’s sake,” the White Angel said as they embraced.

Gwyneth stood up and held Sarah by her
hand.

  “My child, we need to go and see someone.”

  “Who is it?” Sarah asked as she wiped her cheeks dry.

Sarah was soaked in the dark shades of
sorrow when Gwyneth carried her off into full flight. They arrived at the
destination within a few minutes, and landed in a lawn of the facility.

Sarah checked her surroundings and looked at Gwyneth

“Is this a hospital?”

Gwyneth nodded

“I don’t understand.”

“Connect with your inner feelings, Sarah.
Your instincts will tell you the purpose for our visit.”

Sarah shut her eyes but soon opened them.

“My father? Is that so, Gwyneth”

The White Angel smiled as a ring of light
suffused over her and Sarah.

“Your intelligence is remarkable, and so
are your instincts. Trust them as you will trust me. They are your allies.
Guard them well though. They can be corrupted by the Demons.”

“I will, Gwyneth. Can I see my father now?”

Instantly, Gwyneth’s face twitched like she
had sensed something.

“Sarah, we better hurry. I sensed the
Demons.”

Gwyneth held Sarah’s hand and brought her to the second storey. They
found themselves standing at the head of a long corridor. Gwyneth stopped. She
realized most of the corridor lights were off except for the ward at the end of
the corridor.

Then she spotted the glow coming from the
ward. It was a glow of red.

“Gwyneth, what is wrong?”

“Demons.” She uttered.

“Is my father in danger?”

Gwyneth paused. She shook her head. “I
sensed there is something else, another force of the good.”

“Another Angel?” Sarah asked with urgency.

“Let us check the ward.” Gwyneth brought
Sarah, treading in small steps, until they were looking into the ward.
      The sight was quite unexpected for Sarah.

In one end of the ward, she saw Seraphina,
in her the tattered robes of purple,

hand extended in an exertion of powers. She was
shrouded in a circle of scarlet-red light.

On the bed, a man was turning
in a struggle to break from a strange and 

invisible force. Around the bed were four nurses, two
on each side of the bed. One was lying by the side of the bed, in a pool of
blood, a streak of which was flowing towards the door, towards where Sarah was
standing.

She shrieked but Gwyneth gently covered her
mouth and signaled her silence with a finger. None of the nurses or the man on
the bed reacted to her cry. They were invisible to the humans.

Sarah’s attention was consumed by the
plight of the bedridden man, her father.

“Gwyneth, can you please do something? I
think my father is suffering.”

Gwyneth smiled.

“Worry not, my friend.”

“Why?”

“Look at the nurses.”

Sarah did as told and spoke after moments
of observation.

 “There is a ring of light glowing over
them.”

“That ring is keeping Seraphina
at bay, Sarah. The seductress is a formidable demon and it is not possible for
normal humans to stop her. However the nurses are exceptional people. By their
profession, their selfless dedication to their patients, they have accumulated
an ambience of piety and good. This explains the white light. They are blessed
and guarded by the Holy Essence.”

“She cannot overpower them. But my father…”

“Seraphina’s powers are hurt by the
destruction of the Valmar. However I think the nurses might need a boost.”

Gwyneth smiled and flashed her
elegant pointer finger.

“
Semita of lux lucis”
Path
of Light.
She mumbled.

Sarah turned her sights to the patient and
the nurses and found the small rings of light augmenting until it formed an
umbrella of white light. Seraphina began to buckle under the power of good and
light. She fell to the knees and groaned in pain.

At this moment, Gwyneth flicked her pointer finger and a ball of white
energy hit Seraphina and flung her against the wall. The wall was torn asunder
as the seductress flew into obscurity.

“Gwyneth, you beat her!”

“The nurses did. I merely gave her a
helping finger.”

Sarah giggled, her first moment of joy for
that night.

“Sarah dear, I think it time for a reunion.”

Gwyneth touched the girl on her forehead

“Go now. John Springs will be able to see
you.”

“Now? You want me to meet him. I…he…”

“Fret not, Sarah. He will know your
identity.”

Dusk had arrived and a path of sunlight
began to stream through the shattered walls as Sarah walked up to the bed. John
Springs had sat up, recovered well enough to realize the presence of the new
arrival. There was a moment of silence as they exchanged looks. Then delight of
from recognition set in and Father and daughter hugged, for the first time.

At the sight of the embrace, Gwyneth turned
away. In case, Sarah noticed her tears.

*

He limped, the injury in his legs made it
impossible for him to walk as fast as he would like. He had sustained a gaping
wound in his right leg. As he dragged his feet through the ground, a trace of
green was drawn out, the blood of a demon. The self-assured profile had
crumbled into the humbled silhouette of a loser. The proud knight of darkness
was tainted with the dust and soot of his catastrophe on the battlefield at
Valmar. Count Ivan Raum knew of a secret path in the forest and, as the Angels
took stock from their apparent victory over the Demons, he left without being
detected. Despite the fires in the forest, Raum braved the heat and searched for
the remains of his superior—Barbatos—who had been trounced by Archangel
Michael.

After an intensive search, and braving
detection by the forces of the Angels, he found two fingers in gloves, pieces
of cloth, and a ring. The sight of final item caused him much apprehension. The
ring had been cast in pristine white silver that illuminated in the dark. The
outline of a unicorn, the symbol of the Guardian Angels, was engraved on its
face. Barbatos must have kept the item since the days when he was under the tutelage
of the Guardian Angels, Raum mused.

The Demon kept his findings in a velvet
glove and placed it into an inner lining of his robes. With his remaining
strength, he cast a spell that provided him with invisibility. It took him
hours to reach the station for Demons on Earth, a location that Barbatos had
passed to him during an earlier meeting.

In the event of a botched operation, they
were supposed to rendezvous at 12400 Cinnamon Street, New Jersey. Although
Barbatos was reticent about the actual nature of the base, Raum, through
conjecture, deduced that he might be meeting a messenger, envoy, or
representative of the Overlord of Hell, Lucifer.

He found the place to nonchalant and
modest—a convenience store in a suburb south of Valmar. Raum trod with caution
as he entered the store, trepidation exuding from every step made. His intended
audience has probably sensed the bad tidings already.

An attendant stood behind the counter, and
he appeared busy with his coins. The doors snapped shut after Raum entered. At
the sound of the door closing, the man dropped the coins and lifted his head.

Raum knew the face. The deep, expressive
eyes, the bushy eyebrows of red, and the large ears belonged to a man so
distinguished that one is compelled to be submissive upon sight. The high
forehead and the thick grayish hair completed the aristocratic frame of the
Dark One—Lucifer.

The man looked mundane in his flabby
attendant uniform. However, Raum knew that dressed in a suit, the man could
pass off as a CEO, a political leader, or a doyen of any human realm.

God’s Angels were his own creation and
indeed each looked the epitome of all goodness that He had wanted in man.
Lucifer had been God’s favourite before he fell to Michael’s sword.

“My lord,” Raum managed in voice that
quivered so badly that he might be mistaken for a wimp. The proud knight of the
darkness whispered. “My lord.”

The man at the counter shook his head.
“You.” He snapped his fingers and within a second Raum found himself kneeling
in front of Lucifer, whose clothes had transformed into in a suit of black and
red. “Imbecile!”

“My—”

“Enough. Your address in your present state
is more of an insult than honour. Please, just shut up. Shut UP!”

Raum dropped his head. “We failed you …”

Lucifer swept his arm and hit Raum’s messy
hair.

“Where is Barbatos?” The silky voice of the
Dark One threw a blanket of pins onto Raum.

The Knight of Hell flinched, then reached
into his robe and produced the velvet glove. He emptied the contents into his
palm and raised it for review by his master.

Lucifer picked up the fingers. “At least we still have some capital to
rebuild him.”

“Really?” Raum had forgotten himself and
exclaimed with joy but swiftly returned to his position in deference.

A moment of silence followed as the Dark
Lord picked up the ring.

Raum raised his head. “Barbatos kept—”

“Shhh!” Lucifer was irritated.

Raum held his tongue as Lucifer pored over
the ring, taking in every detail of the artifact from Heaven.

“The silly child. Barbatos. He still kept
this memento from those Angels.”

Raum swallowed.
Is that an expression of
anger or compassion?

Lucifer shook his head as the ring of fire
over his head grew. “Sentimentality. That paralyzed his full powers as a Demon.
What is the point, my child?”

With eyes shut, lips tight, the Dark
Supremo spoke with grit. “There will be a day of reckoning. Mark my words.”

#

Miami, Florida

“My granddaughter, Elisa once asked me,”
Victor Palmer narrated with fatherly voice. “Why did you choose politics? Why
did you choose such a busy life?”

Victor Palmer paused and looked around the
convention room of Sheraton Miami, where 500 pairs of eyes trained on him, with
growing anticipation.

“I was surprised, that she only just
asked.”

A ripple of tentative laughters.

“I said to her, as a grandfather would be
to his eldest granddaughter, and grandparents do not lie to their grandchildren
- I want to serve.”

Thunderous applause broke up instanteously.
The society of retired teachers, Florida, is known to be sympathetic the
Republican cause and highly supportive of the senior Senator. Their chairman,
Paul Milton was on the Palmer reelection committee and has good network amongst
the teaching community. When Victor was deliberating over a suitable platform
to announce his decision, the timely invitation provided him with that
opportunity.

“Now I had served this country as senator
for close to a decade, another decade before that as mayor. You might be
curious like Eliza if I am tired and would like to take a back seat.”

There was silence as cameras flashed away.

“The answer is no. I am ready to serve this
country and you better be sure the word ‘retirement’ has been purged from my
dictionary.”

Thunderous applause.

Victor Palmer looked around the room, his
eyes touched those of Boris Komorov for a second and roamed the room.

“I asked to be forgiven for my past
mistakes. I asked for your patience I had not been perfect in the past. No man
is perfect, and Victor Palmer is not.”

Applause.

  “I asked for your continued support as I embark on a new journey, a
fresh phase of my life, as I continued to serve this country, this nation, my
family and yes, Eliza my granddaughter!”
              The audience applauded with whistles.

“Our great country is facing enormous
challenges and to surmount them, solve them, we need strong leaders. We do not
flinch from our difficulties we do not run away.”

Murmurs of approval were heard.

“Humanity looks to us for inspiration, for
leadership and for our friendship. We do not say ‘no’.”

Waves of
yeses
were heard as Palmer
nodded in emphatic fashion

“And so I stand ready to offer that
leadership to my country and me people.”    There was silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby
announce that I am seeking the highest office of the land, of our beloved
country, the United States of America. I am running for to be the
President
of
the United States.”

The next two minutes was an uninterrupted round of
applause as Victor was joined by his wife on stage. He looked around the room,
beaming and waving.
How could he ever think of leaving politics? How could
he ever allow himself to be defeated by Maxi Oil? Such overwhelming display of
love and affection…