The Rise of the Fallen (The Angelic Wars Book 2) (46 page)

The judge
had stepped back to give Sariel room when he took on his true form,
and now he brought out his phone and tapped in a code.

The iron
slab quivered and then with a scream of metal rubbing on metal, rose
up steadily and disappeared into the ceiling.

Sariel
looked down at the judge.

“
Close
it when I leave.”

Judge Hawkes
nodded. “God go with you, Sariel. And with Christopher.”

“
He
always does, my friend. He always does.”

And he
opened the door, stepped out and slammed it behind him.

Sariel stood in front of
the doors to the castle. Behind him, he heard the thick iron shield
slide down again inside and seal off the inhabitants.

At least I know they're
safe, Chris thought with some relief. Too bad I'm not.

The archangel walked
forward a few paces and stood at the top of the broad steps that led
down to the parking lot below. The night was still dark and moonlit,
with no hint of the impending sunrise, but Chris could smell the
cool, sweet scents in the pre-dawn air.

There was the smell of
grass and earth and a hint of the flowers that would burst into bloom
when the Sun's light kissed them. It was one of his favorite times of
day and he drew strength from how much he loved it, especially here
at Valiant, and how he wanted to protect it from what the forces of
evil would do to it.

I love it too, Chris.

Where are they?

They are here, the
cowardly wretches. They are holding back, debating whether they
should attack or flee. I may have to draw them out.

How?

Watch and see.

Sariel
walked down the steps slowly, his heavy body making the ground shake
a little at each footfall. His broken wing dragged behind him, a dead
weight.

When
he reached the bottom, he walked forward until he was standing fully
revealed under the light post in the middle of the parking lot, next
to the silent fountain.

“
I'm
here, you spawn of evil,” he roared. “You know who I am
now, don't you? What reward would your damned master give you for my
head? Well, here it is. Come and take it, if you can.”

Sariel
looked through the darkness and Chris realized that would have been
totally black to his own eyes was merely dim and gray to the
archangel's.

He
could see weird, misshapen figures far back amongst the trees that
lined the parking lot; slinking, crawling low along the ground. Their
movements were jerky and unbalanced. And they made sounds, sounds
that Chris was sure only an angel's ears could have heard.

High
pitched screams and sobs. Cries of loss mixed with insatiable hunger.
If Chris had been himself, he might have vomited at how wrenching
those sounds were.

What are they?
he asked, horrified.

The damned, my friend.
Humans who sold their souls for riches and pleasure on Earth. And who
now serve their master's pleasure for all eternity.

Oh God. All eternity?
Listen to them! They're in agony.

If they are, then they
richly deserve it.

Chris
couldn't believe the coldness in the archangel's voice as it echoed
through his mind.

Deserve? No one
deserves...that.

Don't they? They chose
Hell, Chris. They chose the Pit. Only those who choose Hell end up
there. Didn't you know that?

Wait, what? You mean
sinners don't go to Hell?

Only if they choose to.
If they ask for our Father's forgiveness at the moment of their
deaths, and recognize their sins, they are not damned to dance to a
demon's tune forever. So feel no pity for these...monstrosities.
Besides, you are not hearing pain. You are hearing hunger.

Hunger for what? Oh
damn. You mean for us.

Brace yourself.

And
out of the darkness they came, in a tide of claws and teeth and
unstoppable appetite. Hell's vermin, like rats swarming on a victim.
They came and they came and they came. Chittering and squealing and
hungry for angelic flesh. Chris wondered fleetingly if the others
could see what was happening from some monitor inside the castle.

Sariel
raised his sword and it burst into flames of white and silver. The
pack of monsters screamed in pain as that pure light swept over them,
burning as it cut through their ranks. They burned and they screamed
and they died in untold numbers. Chris was sickened and would have
turned away if he was in control of his own body.

But
he was forced to watch as Sariel waded into the slaughter, his arm
tireless, his sword a butcher's blade.

Some
of the squealing demons attached themselves to his bare arms and
legs, but Sariel shook them off. The bites and scratches they
inflicted were mere annoyances to the archangel and he ignored them.

How
long it lasted and how many there were, Chris couldn't tell. But at
last the final beast lay squirming, burning with holy fire, and the
night was still and quiet again.

How
much longer until sunrise, Chris wondered. The sky was still dark
with no promise of the new day, but somehow he could feel it. Slowly,
almost stealthily, dawn was coming.

The
ground around Sariel's feet was covered with ashes and piles of
bones. There was very little flesh in the remains. Chris knew that
demons used the bodies of the dead as vehicles for their damned
souls. And this was all that was left. The worst part was the smell.

It
was the stench of putrescence, of decay. A mingled smell of rotten
meat and the odor that rises from a pool of swampy water when you
scrape off the scum on top. And it lingered in the still air.

Is that it, Sariel?

Of course not. That was
simply their first wave. Cannon fodder.

I don't understand.
They must have known that even that many of those things would be no
match for you. Why bother having them attack?

The damned souls in
Hell are legion. Sending in hundreds is nothing to them. It was
simply a test.

Chris
saw what Sariel saw and he would have gasped out loud if he could
have as the charred remains of their attackers began to collapse,
fall apart and turn to dust.

A test of what?

Our resolve, perhaps?
Our strength and the strength of the sword? Who can say? But look,
beyond the trees where those vermin were hiding.

Chris
looked as Sariel did. The darkness faded as the archangel
concentrated and Chris could see several shapes, bigger and heavier
looking than the minions they had faced, making their way slowly
forward.

Now what?

Now we face the real
Fallen. Their second wave.

How many?

Just three.

Three? But that's
not...

Sariel
cut him off.

Get ready.

And
then the trees parted and three figures stepped on to the flat
surface of the parking lot.

Chris
stared, repulsed, at the trio who watched Sariel with something like
glee.

They
were hairless and covered with running sores that mingled together on
their bodies to form strange tattoos. They had wings, but they
weren't feathered and bird-like, the way an angel's were.

They
were leathern like a bat's and they trailed behind them on the
ground, as useless as Sariel's own broken wing.

The
Fallen on the left had only one eye, red and gleaming. The other was
a gangrenous wound, greenish with rot.

The
monster on the right had a filthy bandage over its eyes, and its
mouth was full of misshapen, broken fangs. It smiled a horrible grin,
like a living skull.

But
it was the creature in between these two that caused Chris to whimper
silently.

Like
its companions, it was covered in open wounds that almost spelled out
words in some unknown, godless language. Where its eyes should have
been was only smooth flesh. And on its head was a cage of some dull
metal, lead perhaps, that had been pounded into its skull and bled
freely. It looked like a mocking copy of an angel's halo.

The
two creatures on the ends held clubs that were embedded with many
hooks and jagged blades, all covered with rust and dried blood. The
demon in the middle was holding a sword that was black and covered in
glowing runes.

“
So,
you've finally crawled out of your hole, archangel,” the
monstrosity in the middle said in a voice that reminded Chris of
nails grating across a chalkboard. The voice was laced with both
hatred and a horrible anticipation.

Its
companions chuckled and burbled with glee, bloody flecks of saliva
dripping from their mouths.

Sariel's
booming laughter cut them off.

“
I
think we all know who crawled out of what hole, you damned traitors.
If this is how my brother rewards those who followed him into Hell,
I'd say that it was a poor trade for the delights of Heaven.”

The
three of them hissed and spluttered with fury.

“
You'll
soon know real delights, Sariel,” the demon answered. Their
leader, Chris assumed. Or maybe it was the only one who could
actually speak.

“
When
we bind your soul and cast it into the Pit for our Master's pleasure,
you will learn the true delights of punishment.”

They
began to advance, slowly dragging their crooked bodies forward and
raising their horrible weapons.

“
I
think not,” Sariel replied coldly. “Like those others,
you are simply here to test my strength.”

He
raised the sword and it blazed anew, making the three demons flinch
in its glare.

“
Come
then. Let me relieve you of your pain.”

The
trio screeched with ear-splitting screams and suddenly ran forward.
They were abruptly moving almost too fast to see. Too fast for Chris
that is. Not for Sariel.

He
jumped back, spun to his right and leaped forward, making the three
attackers stop and pivot to face him. The demon on the right brought
its weapon across its body, almost catching the archangel on the
side.

But
Sariel brought his sword down and blocked the blow and the weapon
flared brightly, cutting through the demon's attack and sheering its
weapon in half. And taking part of its arm with it.

It
fell back with a wail and its two companions attacked as one,
swinging their weapons furiously. But Sariel wasn't there.

As
fast as the demons were, the archangel was faster. He dodged to the
side and then leaped forward, ending up behind the stumbling group,
and sheered off the head of the first demon that had attacked him.

It
fell to the ground and began to burn, writhing silently as it bled
black blood. The others turned and continued their attack.

This
time Sariel feinted to his left and, thinking that he was going to
leap by them again, both demons turned in that direction, and then
realized their mistake too late.

Sariel
simply stepped forward, swung his blade around in a furious blow and
split the one-eyed demon in half. Like its fellow, it fell to the
ground and began to smolder.

The
last of the Fallen was the leader. It stopped and stared sightlessly
at Sariel, hissing furiously, crouched low to the ground.

It's going to spring!

I know
,
Sariel replied calmly.

And
it did. It leaped high in the air, its wings flaring up behind it,
making it look like it could actually fly.

It
swung its hideous weapon downward as it flew over Sariel's head and
he raised the sword to counter. Sparks flew and the clang of the
weapons echoed sharply across the parking lot.

As
it landed and began to turn, Sariel darted forward. The demon managed
to spin around half-way before the blade, trailing silver flames,
impaled it. Instead of a scream, it whimpered aloud and fell to its
knees, its useless blade dropping from suddenly weak fingers.

Sariel
stood over it and watched with something like detached interest as
the sword burned its cursed flesh. The demon writhed and cried. When
it tried to grab the blade that protruded from its chest, its fingers
burned off cleanly and, this time, it did scream.

The
archangel leaned forward and stared at the area of its face where its
eyes should have been.

“
I
release you from your pain, my former brother,” he said
quietly, his voice now compassionate. “Go now into oblivion.
There will be no rebirth.”

The
creature didn't answer, but its wailing ceased and Chris thought that
maybe it nodded slightly at Sariel's words. And then the archangel
ripped upward with the sword and left the burning mass to slowly be
consumed.