The Armies of Heaven (5 page)

I pondered his plan. “Do you think four thousand men and horses can safely navigate the mountain?”

“Safely? If you mean can they make it to the other side alive, certainly. It’s two to three days through the mountain; you’ll be able to carry enough feed for the horses for at least that long, and the horses are bred for the heights. After that, there’s nothing much but farms and peasant villages until you get to Iriy. It will be up to our Virtues to commandeer supplies and lodging along the road. That will test their sense of fairness and honor. Once you reach Iriy, you will doubtless meet resistance from militias loyal to the queen, and the fighting will begin, but you should be able to make it to Elysium with minimal losses to engage whatever forces Aeval has left behind.” He looked piercingly at me. “Was that what you meant?”

I nodded, biting my lip, and Kae sighed. “Are you up to this, Nazkia? These men are counting on you. It’s time for you to grow up and act like a queen if you intend to be one.”

Anger flared in me at his rebuke. “Don’t you speak to me as if I were still your baby cousin. I know what my responsibilities are. I know what I’m asking of these men. It’s what I have to do and I will, but I don’t have to like the idea of good men dying for me.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Was it my imagination, or was he smirking behind that mask? It was almost as if he were deliberately ribbing me, which seemed so unlike the Kae of the present I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He picked up his notebook again. “My experience with command has taught me that well-trained soldiers can be relied upon to do anything asked of them, even extraordinary things, as long as they feel their contributions matter, as men. If you treat them like nothing more than means to an end, you’ll wind up with a weak, dispirited force, and a high number of deserters.”

He opened his book and began making notes in it once more. “I suggest you put Belphagor in charge of discipline, with Margarita as tactical commander. And while you
could
take four thousand men over the top of the Mountains of Aravoth, I wouldn’t recommend it. My plan was to send five hundred through the mountain with you, and the other thirty-five hundred northeast along the Empyrean border to the Central Rift to follow the Acheron from its source and meet up with you at Elysium. It will take them another week, maybe longer, but they’ll be in much better condition, and the losses will be fewer. You’ll have to seize and hold the palace until they arrive, but I’m betting the queen has left no more than the usual two hundred Ophanim to guard it.” He glanced up, with his pencil poised over the page. “Was there anything else?”

I regarded him for a long moment, anger fading into an inexpressible confusion of admiration and regret. Just as I was taking my leave, I seemed to be seeing a different side to him.

“There is one other thing. Thank you for all you’ve done here,” I said sincerely. “It means a great deal to me.” I left him staring after me.

As I headed back to the manor, the soft pink haze of the cherry orchard caught my eye and I cut across the lawn to see it one last time. The thaw had come late, and the trees were still laced with blossoms above the thick carpet of petals. I sat in the shade and spread my skirt beneath me, imagining for a moment I was still just Nenny, hiding from my sisters in a game of hide and seek. When I was very young, Kae had played these games with us, spending his summers in Elysium after Aunt Tsirya’s death.

I’d never felt more conflicted about my cousin—torn, as always, between bitterness and sorrow. I’d believed his suffering over what he’d done could never compare to that of the people he’d done it to, but seeing his reaction to the news about his child, I was no longer certain I could make such a claim. Perhaps he suffered more than all of us. He said he remembered every moment of it, locked within his own blood by Aeval’s calling, watching himself in horror. What must it be like to carry that memory? Far worse, I feared, than carrying my own.

A light breeze picked up the blossoms around me for an instant, stirring the scent of spring, and then scattered them along the dirt path. I sighed, wishing it had been the delicate dance of the syla. Today was Midsummer’s Day. If I were in the world of Man, I would see the ethereal creatures of the Unseen World if I looked closely enough.

“I wish you were here,” I whispered, not knowing whether I meant the syla, or my sisters, or my own Ola. “This task is too hard,” I told them all. “I don’t want to be queen. Why have you left me to do this alone?”

Padshaya Koroleva
.

I swore I heard it on the fluttering petals:
Fallen Queen
, the syla’s name for me. I stood and scanned the orchard, straining to see what might otherwise be unseen.

Cannot see.

This I heard quite clearly. “Where are you?” I cried.

Cannot see
, the wind repeated, and then I heard distinctly, “
Padshaya Koroleva
will come to
Polnochnoi Sud
.”

“The Midnight Court? How can I go to the Midnight Court?” I was a world away from the magnificent halls of the syla beneath the fairy mound at Tsarskoe Selo, and I was needed in Elysium. “Please. Where are you? I don’t understand.”

The sweet, heady breeze lifted every petal around me, every decaying blossom cast off by the greening twigs. They floated and swayed, rising as if by some puppeteer’s string, until the breeze dissipated and the petals floated down from the frosted canopy above like pale pink flakes of snow.

Chetvertaya
: Signs and Wonders

He heard the voice before he saw the vision. Brother Kirill knelt on the floor, deep in his morning devotion, when someone or something whispered in his ear.

Man of God
, it whispered. Kirill thought someone stood behind him, and he turned, but he saw no one in the doorway. He went back to his prayer and then heard it again:
Man of God
.

Trembling, he replied, “I hear you, Lord.”

“Open your eyes, man of God.”

He’d squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he determined the voice was real. He opened them cautiously and saw a shining, silver light before him, pulsing as if it breathed. The shape, though vaguely man-like, didn’t coalesce into anything solid. Kirill crossed himself and murmured the Prayer of the Heart.

“I have come to set a task before you.” The voice clearly emanated from the shining shape, though it had no mouth as such to move. The light sparkled like the facets of a jewel struck by the glow of fire. “I would appoint you the child’s protector,” said the angel—for Kirill was certain now he was seeing a real angel, not the deceivers who’d lied to him on Solovetsky, and not the devils who claimed to be Cherubim. In the depths of hell, he’d been sent an angel of light. God had heard his prayers at last.

“I am your servant.” Kirill bowed low over his knees. “But I don’t know where the child is.”

“I will lead you to him.”

“Him?” Kirill looked up, confused. “Not the girl? Not Ola?”

“The girl is strong, but the boy is weak. The girl remembers love, but the boy has known none.”

Kirill wondered whether the angel meant care and affection, or Love herself. He was beginning to feel a bit disoriented in the being’s presence, as if the angel’s light sucked oxygen from the room.

“When you find one, you shall find the other.”

Again, Kirill pondered the meaning. Did the angel speak of the children, or of Love, and affection?

“I will come to you again,” said the angel. “Keep watch in the night.”

For a moment, Kirill thought the angel’s appearance wavered and stretched before him, but it was his own perception. The room behind the angel, which he could see through its light, wavered the same as he collapsed onto the floor.

“Kirill!” Love knelt beside him, shaking him. As always, his heart quickened at her proximity. She clutched his hand when he stirred and blinked. “
Bozhe moi!
You scared the life out of me.”

“I’ve seen the angel of the Lord,” he said as Love helped him up. “It spoke to me, sparkling like a being of light.”

Love frowned. “There are plenty of angels here. I don’t think any of them are from the Lord.” She regarded him dubiously, as if she thought he was becoming unhinged. Perhaps it was best if he kept this to himself. “When did you last eat?”

He shrugged and shook his head.

Her frown turned to one of disapproval. “You need to attend to your body, Kirill, not just your soul.” She joined him as he sat on the bed. “Listen. I’ve just spoken to Nazkia, and she’s moving out at dusk with her troops for Heaven’s capital. I told her I thought it would be best if you and I went home.”

Kirill studied her lovely eyes of deepest brown. Moments ago, he would have rejoiced at this news. He wanted nothing more than to escape this godless land, and the prospects for finding little Ola were growing slimmer with every passing day. But with the angel’s words, he had a renewed sense of purpose. God had sent him to this dark place for a reason, to protect not only Ola but this other child who needed him as well. He couldn’t ignore this calling.

“What about Ola? We pledged to stay and find her.”

The deep brown eyes were sad. “I just don’t know what good we’re doing here. And Nazkia says it’s dangerous for us to stay.”

He didn’t want to disappoint her, so he said nothing, and she seemed to take this as agreement. “If we leave with the troops, we’ll have safe passage to the place where we can return below. I’ve told her we’ll go.”

Kirill nodded and smiled, putting his other hand over hers. “Of course. You’re right.” He would say anything to see the warm light in her eyes. Even a lie. Might God have mercy on his soul.

§

Four thousand Virtues waited on the road beyond Pyr Amaravati while the shortest night began to fall over the green highlands of Aravoth. Kae had chosen those most capable of adapting and thinking on their feet. He didn’t know them all individually, of course, but he was well acquainted with the captains of each company. He’d assembled all the troops and run them through exercises to give any spies the impression it was an ordinary drill, and the rest had fallen back as if to re-drill when the Empyrean brigade prepared to depart.

With his parting orders, he sent the Elysium-bound troops on their way on the northern road toward the wasteland of the Empyrean, keeping behind two elite companies in whom he placed absolute faith—the escorts for Anazakia and her party.

Kae waited near the stables as her party mounted up, frowning at the sight of Lively approaching from the manor in her traveling clothes, her belly now quite prominent in front of her. At least Anazakia wasn’t foolish enough to expect her to ride. He’d provided a platoon of infantry to walk with the girl and watch out for her, but it was madness for Anazakia to insist on her inclusion.

Lively surprised him by kissing his cheek. Both outcasts and mistrusted at Pyr Amaravati, they had formed a sort of friendship over the last few months.

“You take care,” he told her huskily, hoping she would attribute the strangeness in his voice to his damaged larynx. Oddly, now that he knew what had happened before he’d killed Ola in his madness, it was no longer so painful to see the signs of Lively’s healthy pregnancy. He only hoped it would remain so.

Margarita seemed to have been assigned as Lively’s escort. He nodded to her as she took Lively’s arm and headed out to the road. He noticed the baby’s father carefully avoiding them as he and his demon lover set out on foot as well. Kae suppressed a smile of grim satisfaction at the picture of obvious awkwardness these traveling arrangements created. Anazakia would have her hands full before she was anywhere near civilization.

He was surprised by a hand on his shoulder, and even more surprised when he saw it belonged to Belphagor. He glanced past the demon and saw the half-Seraph glaring daggers at him from across the drive.

Belphagor gave him a calculating smile. “Vasily’s advised me against this, as you can see. But after all we’ve been through together, in light of the loyal service you’ve given to Anazakia, I thought we ought to part amicably, if it’s possible.”

Kae had no idea how to react to the hand the demon extended. When he shook it awkwardly, Belphagor gripped his fingers and leaned in close. “If you’ve steered her wrong in any way, you can bet your last breath I’ll be back to make you pay for it.” The demon didn’t let go, his grip becoming painful. “And one other thing. I know I declined when you first arrived at Pyr Amaravati aching for a beating. Normally, I have a policy of reserving such intimacy for those I care about. But in your case, considering the similar intimacies we’ve already shared, I must confess I would dearly love to beat the devil out of you—if you’ll pardon a terrestrial expression.” He gave Kae a deceptively placid smile. “So when this is all over, if you’re ever in Raqia, do look me up.” With a final squeeze of his hand that Kae thought might actually break the bones, Belphagor released him. “Good luck in your endeavor. And I mean that sincerely.”

Outwardly, Kae gave the demon no more reaction than a mildly raised eyebrow as he returned to his companion. Behind them, Anazakia approached on her mount and he raised his hand in salute to her.

She ignored the gesture. “The forces have been deployed for the Empyrean?” When he confirmed it, she gave him a brusque nod. “Then may the wind be at your wings.” It was the traditional celestial expression of luck.

He flinched at the unpleasant memory this evoked, one forgotten until now, from the night of the Solstice Conflagration when he’d been badly burned. Aeval had used him to stave off the flames overtaking the palace, tearing his element from him in the form of literal wings he hadn’t known he possessed. They’d been made of a sort of rushing but self-contained water, towering behind him and over them both in an arc of indescribable agony as she stretched them back. She’d given him the cold kiss that controlled his blood and the wings had frozen in place as the advancing flames rushed at him, dispelled only when they touched his ice.

He awoke from that pain her consort no more, but the scarred and mutilated man he was now, her field marshal, with no memory of his former service to her. And he’d remained in that blissful amnesia until Anazakia had released him from Aeval’s control, unleashing all his unhappy memories in a violent cataract.

He called after her as she turned her horse about toward the road.

She looked back, and he nearly gasped at the image she struck in the low evening light. The bright curls hanging over her shoulder looked dark, like the golden molasses that had been Omeliea’s. She was so like her sister, yet her own woman now, grown into an elegant grace he’d somehow failed to notice in his self-absorption and self-loathing.

“I wanted to thank you.” He took hold of the horse’s bridle so she couldn’t pull away until he’d had his say. “You’ve never asked for it, but it must be said: you saved my life. One I don’t want, perhaps, but you did an amazing thing for me just the same, giving back mine after I’d destroyed nearly everything of yours. What I’ve done can never be forgiven, nor would I want it to be, but you’ve been kind to me, which I don’t deserve, and I don’t know how to thank you.”

She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, and perhaps he had.

“You will be a great queen, Nazkia. You already are. May the wind be at your wings.” He turned away before he could see whether her eyes held scorn or pity. He couldn’t bear either.

§

Love put her arm through Kirill’s as they followed Vasily and Belphagor. The atmosphere as the battalion headed into the mountains was almost festive. The strangeness of the hour and the initial silence of the procession soon gave way to a kind of giddy, nervous whispering, and as they turned off the main road to Aravoth onto the one that wound through the mountain, it became an animated banter. After all the planning and waiting, something was finally happening. Within a few short weeks, the troops would be in Elysium, claiming it for the House of Arkhangel’sk.

Lanterns were lit once they left the pass visible from below and filed up the narrow road—those on foot, two abreast, followed by those on horseback in single file—dotting the mountainside with pale, phantom orbs of light.

Love smiled as Belphagor teased Vasily into giving him a piggyback ride for a few meters. Vasily outweighed the shorter demon by at least fifty pounds, and Belphagor clearly enjoyed it when the man he affectionately called “boy” demonstrated his far greater strength.

The battalion marched until an hour or so after midnight, finally setting up camp in a wooded glen deep in from the narrow mountain road. In these heights, the wind was fierce, and she and Kirill took shelter in a small tent together, bringing to mind the journey they’d made across the frozen Empyrean when the Cherubim had taken them to Gehenna. Kirill’s cloistered existence at Solovetsky hadn’t prepared him for creatures whose faces shifted into different, monstrous aspects and spoke with four voices at once, who could fling a man from one end of the world to another with a flap of their wings, or for a Heaven with an eternally circling river of fire at its crown.

Love lay staring at the canopy over their heads, unable to let her mind rest. Kirill was fast asleep, seeming much more at peace since she’d told him they were going home. She wished she hadn’t had to lie to him. She meant to go with him, but not to stay. Kirill might never forgive her for abandoning him, but he would forget her in time, and he’d be happy again in the world he understood. He could return to a life of service and purpose, and his belief in a sacred, loving God, no longer tempted by her to sin.

Once in Russia, she intended to contact the Romani underground and try to persuade them of what she’d seen with her own eyes. The Malakim might have impressed her people with their talk of Heaven, but she’d been here herself. If she could just make them understand the stakes involved, and what the Malakim really offered.

After nearly an hour of sleeplessness, Love gave up and decided to get some air. She climbed out and stood hugging her arms under the thick blanket of stars. There were far more here than she’d ever seen back home, though strangely the constellations seemed the same; she would have expected a sky completely alien to reign over Heaven.

Love sighed. She’d give anything for a cigarette.

A crunch on the pine carpet startled her. She peered into the darkness as Lively emerged from the woods.

The demoness paused before coming forward. “Baby’s pressing on my bladder all the time now. I wish he’d move.”

“It’s a boy? You can tell by magic?”

Lively shrugged. “Not by magic. I just can.” She pressed her hand to her lower back and groaned. “All this walking. I hope I get used to it.”

“I was surprised you were part of the contingent. You’re due in a couple of months, aren’t you?”

“Three. But I have work to do for Anazakia.”

Though mad with curiosity over what kind of work Lively could be doing, Love didn’t pry. If Anazakia wanted her to know, she’d have told her about it herself. Still, the idea that Anazakia was enlisting magical aid in overthrowing the queen was intriguing. “I don’t suppose you brought your cards with you?”

“I did, actually. I always take them with me.” She regarded Love curiously. “Did you want another reading?”

Love glanced back at the tent to be sure Kirill was still sleeping. “Well…it would be good to keep in touch with my friend.”

“Let me get them.” Lively turned toward her tent, but the flap opened and Margarita climbed out.