Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) (37 page)

“The reluctant
Wrath of God returns,” a musical voice said, filling the hall. “How pleased I
have been with your success, dear Thanatos, however limited is has been. When
you return, you must embrace your role if you are to bring us the help we
need.”

Ahead of them
all, raised on a dais seven steps above them, the Throne shone with a golden
radiance that nearly obscured the figure sitting within. Even Uriel gasped in
affront at the sight of Maya sitting on the Throne.

The Throne of
God was beyond description; even to immortal eyes, it was all but impossible to
accurately see and describe the seat of divine power. Still, despite its
brilliance, it neither blinded Uriel with radiance nor caused him any
discomfort. It was a comforting, embracing light. From experience, he knew that
the blessed dead experienced the same sensations, and no doubt the living
mortals – with the possible exceptions of Danner and Birch – would be unable to
penetrate the golden illumination to see the woman within.

“Maya, you
dare!” Mikal barked sharply. “No one may sit in the Throne except for the
Almighty God Himself.”

“I am Metatron,”
Maya said loftily, “and I speak for God. In His absence, I remain, and I sit
where I choose.”

“I never dreamed
even you would dare presume,” Mikal growled. “When I left on your ill-begotten
quest to slay mortals, you were still standing
beside
the Throne. That
itself was presumption, but this… this is sacrilege!”

“Sacrilege?”
Maya laughed, a musical sound that nevertheless carried an undertone of threat
and danger. “My dear Thanatos, I am Metatron. How could I possibly…”

“You are no more
Metatron than I am Thanatos,” Mikal said sharply. “I am Mikal, as I have always
been, and no longer will I fall prey to your lies and misguided influence.”

The light from
the Throne flared briefly, and Uriel saw Maya’s golden eyes flash dangerously.

“You dare,” she
hissed. Then she laughed and relaxed back indolently in the Throne. “Foolish
Mikal, if you insist on such trivial defiance, you seem to forget who holds the
power of Heaven. For ages untold, I have held sway, ordained by God Himself to
hold power in His absence. Since the dawn of mortal life, I have sought to
create the true paradise here, a world of only the purest good. God saw my
efforts and bade me take over Heaven when our poor brother Gabriel fell, and it
was through my leadership that the demons were driven out and Pleroma
sundered.”

“I seem to
remember Uriel and I playing no small part,” Mikal said, but Maya went on as if
he didn’t exist.

“With the
expulsion of evil, Heaven had its first chance to become something more, something
good, something pure. I have ever striven toward that goal, and I have finally
made it possible. God Himself has shown me the way, and God Himself keeps me
enthroned here. Could I even sit in His Throne without divine permission?”

Maya laughed again,
and Mikal looked at her with growing horror.

“What have you
done?” Mikal whispered. Uriel watched his friend sadly as Mikal came to realize
the extent of Maya’s corruption. He hadn’t dared tell his friend what he knew
or what he suspected, lest Mikal let something slip and tip their hand that
Uriel was amongst them.

“Ask yourself,
as an angel of God, from whence does evil spring in men?” Maya asked. “Angels
cannot do evil, for it is against our God-given nature. Demons cannot do good,
it is likewise against their Satan-spawned existence. Only mortals have the
capacity for both, and why? Because they can choose. Even in death, the blessed
dead have always created problems here, with their incessant bickering and
malcontent. Adhering to the most stringent policies of admitting them here,
still each soul contains within it the seeds of evil waiting to sprout.

“Good and evil,
guilt and innocence, they are only a matter of timing.”

Mikal’s sense of
horror grew as he finally saw what Maya had done.

“You’ve taken
away their free will,” Mikal said. His fists clenched and his body shook as he
fought to control the rage building within him. The six wings on his back
fluttered in silent agitation as though itching to flare and bear him into
battle.

“Not taken
away,” Maya said, shaking her head, “that has proved impossible so far. I have
merely extended my influence to, shall we say, dampen their inclination
to
choose, effectively restricting them from the more unpleasant facets of human
nature. Have you seen the blessed dead? They are all immensely happy here; most
barely even remember the drudgery and baseness of their former lives.”

Maya stood from
the Throne and took two steps down the stairs toward them, leaving the radiance
of the Throne behind her. She raised her arms and her six pink-hued wings
spread triumphantly behind her, then she tossed her head and golden-silver hair
fell back over her shoulders. Uriel noticed absently that she was completely
naked, disdaining even the basic robes that most angels wore. Immortals had no
natural genitalia of any sort to expose – although they could simulate them if
they so chose, which few did. Even so, total nakedness was considered indecent.
Uriel had never stopped to question the taboo.

“Everyone is
pleasant, polite, and considerate of each other. There is no jealousy, no
treachery, no hatred, and no violence. There are no lies, no thefts, no
ill-thoughts, no sins of any kind,” Maya proclaimed proudly. “I have created a
world without fear, a paradise of contentment, and a garden of love.”

She stopped
halfway down the stairs, and now even the mortals could clearly see the
porcelain image of perfect beauty that stood before them.

“This is my gift
to all of creation, mortal and immortal alike,” Maya said grandly. Her voice
echoed in the cavernous Hall

- 3 -

Kaelus listened
to the self-righteous sermon, and his rage built swiftly. The fires of his eyes
blazed fiercely through the mortal eyes of his host, and as one – Kaelus and
Birch together – they seethed with rage over the words of the self-proclaimed
Metatron. Finally, the demon within Birch decided his time had come –
now
would be the moment of his exorcism, and the two that had come so far from the
depths of Hell would finally separate completely.

On the heels of
Maya’s grand proclamation, Kaelus roared his fury and forced himself out from
his human host. Birch threw back his head and his shout echoed the timbre of
Kaelus’s own bellow as he poured forth in a cloud of crimson. Kaelus allowed
his shape to fully form as he extricated himself from his host, and with a
surge of power he became wholly corporeal and dropped to the ground a few feet
in front of Birch. The Gray paladin staggered back and fell to his knees, where
he was immediately steadied by the Green paladin Perklet.

Kaelus flexed
his black, leathery wings and shook his fists, rattling the shackles that
remained from his captivity in Hell. He towered over the mortals in the room
with a physique a balrog would envy, and his ebony horns curved forward above
his forehead before swooping back over his head. His flesh was the color of old
blood, and Kaelus’s eyes burned with a blue fire, unlike the eyes of his former
host which still burned crimson. Weakened by the transition, Kaelus
nevertheless roared in furious joy as he momentarily reveled in his freedom.

When he focused
on the so-called King of Heaven, Kaelus grinned fiercely at her obvious shock
and fear. Maya stammered and fell back onto the stairs as she stared at Kaelus
incredulously and with growing fear.

“What’s the
matter, Maya, don’t you recognize me?” Kaelus rumbled. Behind him, he could
sense the amazement of the mortals and immortals he’d come in with, and mingled
with it was some understandable fear. Even knowing who he was, the sight of a
demon suddenly appearing fully fleshed would be enough to rattle any mortal.
Most of them had seen his discorporate appearance, but that paled in comparison
to actually being in his presence – the difference between a half-glimpsed
dream and abrupt reality. Despite having been imprisoned for countless eons,
Kaelus was still one of the most powerful entities in existence, and his
presence was
felt
by those around him.

“Kaelus?” Maya
whispered.

Mikal came to
stand beside him, and now all trace of the gray Angel of Death had finally
vanished. Mikal shone with a soft saffron glow, and his six wings gleamed a
deep emerald color. In his hand he carried a gleaming sword that emitted a
piercing white light.

“Indeed, my
brother has returned from his captivity,” Mikal said, laying a hand on Kaelus’s
shoulder. They both withheld a wince as they touched for the first time with
both in their true, unmediated shapes. Despite Kaelus’s inclination toward
good, he was still of the stuff of demons, and the touch of an angel was
painful to them both.

“You have
brought a demon here?” Maya shouted, regaining her feet as she recovered her
composure. She drew herself up in indignation. “Here, to the Throne of God, of
all places, and you have the gall to accuse
me
of sacrilege?”

“Demon or no,
Kaelus is as good and pure as any angel,” Mikal said forcefully, “and he comes
to help us in the hour of our worst peril.”

“He is a minion
of Shaitan!” Maya hissed, retreating to the Throne. She stood before the
glowing golden radiance and spread her wings wide as she raised her hands high.
“He must be destroyed!”

“Maya, no!”
Uriel called, forgetting himself as he dashed forward.

“Uriel!” Maya
cried. “You, too, have betrayed me? You betray the Throne and God Himself with
your decision!”

“I hold fast to
the virtues set forth by God with my decision, Pretender,” Uriel shouted
defiantly, but it was obvious Maya was beyond hearing any of them.

The Seraph
tilted her head back as the light in the Hall dimmed all around them. Maya herself
seemed to draw the light into her until she blinded them all with her radiance.

“Strike now,
before she draws too much!” Kaelus shouted. He sprang forward and six-inch
talons sprang from his fingers as he leapt toward the Throne. Mikal leapt
straight up into the air and swooped down toward Maya, while Uriel ran to
approach her from the side, the crystalline sword in his hand burning fiercely.

Kaelus reached
Maya first. He stretched out his hand just as she lowered her head and their
eyes locked. The dark-skinned demon was hurled back and hung suspended a full
six feet off the floor, completely immobilized. Uriel and Mikal stopped where
they were, similarly frozen.

Before Birch and
the other mortals could do more than grasp at their swords, Maya waved a hand
and they were engulfed in a golden wave of light that left them all paralyzed
and completely helpless.

Silence engulfed
the Hall of the Throne as Maya looked at the living statues assembled before
her. Finally she laughed – a haunting, musical cascade of sound – until her
voice echoed back and spilled forth from the Hall to fill the empty, holy city
of Medina.

The histories we have from the Great Schism were
handed down by the angels, and every scholar knows it is the victors who write
history. I have often wondered how a history from the point of view of the
demons would read.

- Dekken Raime, formerly of
the Orange Facet,

from the record at his trial
and sentencing (659 AM)

- 1 -

An eerie silence
descended on the Hall of the Throne. Maya’s golden eyes glittered in
satisfaction as she gazed on the motionless shapes frozen before her. She
smiled languidly in pleasure.

“Thank you,
God,” she whispered, staring upward, “for showing me worthy and proving your
benevolent wisdom. I will continue to carry out Your will, and will always…”

A sharp, muffled
sound cut her off abruptly, and her head jerked down to stare at the motionless
bodies that littered the floor. Her gaze narrowed as she peered intently. It
was impossible to think someone had escaped her power, and yet…

The sound was
repeated…There!

Maya made a
parting motion with her hands, and the living statues of men and elves slid to
either side, exposing an aged, balding, mortal human. He stood absolutely
motionless, one hand covering most of his face, and his eyes were focused off
to one side. Maya stared at him intently until finally the old man flinched
violently as he tried to suppress yet another sneeze.

“Oh, pardon me,”
the old man said, noticing Maya’s attention. He nodded once at her, then froze
in place yet again.

“Cease this
sham, foolish mortal,” Maya said ominously. “You aren’t frozen like the others.
Why?”

“Well of course
I’m not frozen,” the old man said without moving, “never said I was. But
everyone else seems to have stopped moving, so I figured there must be some
reason for it, so I should probably stop moving too, so they won’t feel bad.
Politeness, you understand.”

“I asked you a
question, mortal.”

“You did?
Terribly sorry, perhaps I didn’t hear you,” the old man said. “Could you repeat
it, please?”

“What is your
name, mortal?” Maya asked.

“Now that wasn’t
the question you asked, madam,” he replied, and finally he moved so he could
put his hands on his hips. “I guess I did hear you after all, and I even
remember your question. You asked me why I’m able to move. Now, which is it you
want to know?”

 “You try
my patience, old human,” Maya glowered, “and that is unwise. I am Metatron. I
am the Voice of God, and my power here is absolute. I could erase you in an instant.
Now answer me.”

“Voice?” the old
man said. “Isn’t it hard to hear when you’re talking?”