Of Kings and Demons (21 page)

“The civil war?”

Eugene mused, “Momentous event. I read your history textbooks but none of
them captured the despondency and darkness of that era. The nights are so dark
and long that you doubt there will be dawn.”

“Educate me, Angel. I am your student
tonight.”

Eugene mused, “I was reborn as an Angel,
reborn on a night so dark that you wonder if you will see dawn again. The Union
was losing, and casualties mounted; prospects of death lurked behind every
passing second. The Southern generals were pushing the Union soldiers back into
the north. It was the seventh day of September, 1858, we heard an intense
cannon bombardment, and I found a couple of wounded Union soldiers in our
barnyard. The owner had fled to Washington and only my father and a couple of
others stayed on to look after the plantation. So we fed and washed those
soldiers. It was a rough moment. One of them lost three fingers and another,
one eye. We tried our best, but we are no doctors. Two days later, the
Confederates came on horses.”

Eugene paused, as if trying to digest a
difficult bone. “There was a dozen of them, unshaven and hungry, they were
ready to kill and burn. Pushed and shoved by their circumstances, they’d lost their
sense of humanity, they were simply red-eyed Demons. They searched but failed
to locate the Union soldiers. But they found us. They had my family and I bound
and interrogated. And boy, though they were not great conquerors, they were
great torturers.”

“What happened then?” Robin asked.

“My father was beaten like to pulp. They
shot him first, then my uncle, one of our friends, his grandfather …” Eugene
paused, tears in his eyes. “You will excuse me. It has been two hundred years,
but I will never forget the moment when they shot my father in his temples.”

“I am sorry...” Walter’s face crumbled in
sorrow.

“I hope my story will cement your will.
Your sorrow will subside like the sea waves, and what is left is the golden
beach, everlasting. I must finish, for your sake, governor.”

“Thank you.” Walter whispered.

        “It was my turn eventually. They punched and kicked, but there is
no way I would give away the locations of those Union soldiers. I played dumb.
I thought they would give up at some point. I was wrong.”

By now the atmosphere was saturated with
melancholy. Nobody spoke but the silence was deafening.

“They stabbed me. Once in the chest, then
in the thigh, and then many more times all over. They were no longer interested
in an answer, Patrick. They were just angry, and they just wanted to vent their
frustrations. They just needed to assuage their anger by punishing my flesh. If
my death makes them feel better, I am fine. So be it.” Eugene explained.

Robin sniffed.

“I knew I was dying when the sensation of
pain faded, only to be replaced by numbness. Darkness came like a curtain
gently dropped.” Eugene paused again. “That is death, the end for mortals, if
you ever wonder what painful death is.”

“I am sorry to ask, Eugene.” Walter
murmured.

The Guardian Angel shook his head. “Walter, you should know. It is only
fair that knowledge comes with the kind of sacrifice you have shouldered. You
need to understand what we are doing and knowledge lent meaning to your
suffering and losses. I am happy to share. Time has already allowed me to
acquire a sense of equanimity to handle such tragedies.”

“How do you manage to do that? The
tragedies you encountered must have been awful.”

“We remind ourselves that we are not alone
in facing adversity. There are many who endured the unbearable. The Archangel
raised those who suffered the worst pain and loss to be Guardian Angels because
he wants us to guard and protect those who are going to endure those
sufferings. We know what it is like, and we help to prevent the suffering from
happening. When we fail, we try to make it bearable.”

“I am grateful you recount your experience
for my sake.”

Eugene lifted his clothes. Ugly scars lined
his torso.

Both Walter and Robin were dumbfounded.

Eugene explained. “Alastair, Captain of Guardians and one of the
strongest in all realms—Heaven, Hell, or Earth was my mentor. As a result of my
sacrifice, he gave me a chance to serve as a Guardian Angel. Alastair left my
scars unhealed to remind me of the value of liberty and the purpose of my new role
- there are oppressed souls out there that we must liberate. I must be
steadfast in my mandate to save those who were like me, who might be in harm’s
way. I swore to Alastair and Lord Michael I would never them down.”

“Michael?” Patrick repeated. “The
Archangel?”

“The great Archangel, Saint Michael,”
Eugene explained.

“Amazing.” Walter exclaimed.

 “My pain and loss is a small price to pay
for the lesson you learnt today. The sacrifices you made laid the bridge for
you to fulfill your destiny. The death of those around you will not be in vain.
All things good come after the sacrifice and pain. It will come.”

“You lived in a turbulent time, a turbulent
time of great men. I am nothing like Lincoln.” Walter shook his head.

“Lincoln created his own place in history.”
Eugene said. “You have to do the same.”

“Faith,” Walter repeated. “I guess that is
the only thing I have got now.”

The Guardian Angel stood to his full height. “It might be the only thing
you need now to make your decision.”

There was a long pause. Robin stared at
Walter Johnson.

“I will make the announcement at Capitol
Hill.”

Robin’s jaws dropped as he looked at
Eugene, then at the governor again.

#

Over the centuries, Lord Barbatos had built a network of trusted servants
and soldiers, secretly placed in the hierarchy of humans. Highly intelligent
and well-placed in their respective fields, they came from various professions
of finance, art, literature and politics.

Boris Komorov is one of them; deep in
worship of the dark side and unfailing in his support. The Komorov family was a
staunch ally of the Demons, and Boris’s grandfather, Count Peter Komorov, was
once a lowly servant in an aristocratic family in Kiev but went on to command
his own battalion of soldiers during a royal campaign to crush a series of serf
uprisings.

Peter Komorov’s naked greed and ambition made him a perfect subject for
seduction. After he had crossed over to the dark side, his clan had proposed.
It survived the rise and fall of nations, dynasties, and regimes, through the
world wars, the Cold War and the whatevers, and remained materially rich.

They continued to own swathes of land in
Europe, South America. and Africa, controlling mines, oil reserves, and gold.
Just reward for loyal services to the Devil. They continued to be a trusted
source of soldiers for the Demonic cause. Boris Komorov had inherited the
family mantle after the demise of his father and continued their mission.

After the session with Victor Palmer,
Komorov hurried to a rendezvous with his master, carrying news that might
delight his master.

In Barbatos’s presence, Komorov hang his
head low like a serf.

“Speak, Boris,” Lord Barbatos commanded.

“My Lord, Senator Palmer has agreed to our
proposal.”

“Positive news.”

“My lord, our offer was too tempting for
him.”

“Greed and fear are always their cardinal
weaknesses,” Barbatos commented.

“Fear tipped the balance, my lord. The
prospect of the destruction of his political career was too much to bear.”

“You have once again lived up to my
expectations, Boris,” Barbatos praised and

continued. “Victor is the microcosm of the weakness of
the human race. Fear of loss of all things material, fear of death.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Barbatos sauntered towards Boris. “And he
really thinks he can be president?” Hubris will be his undoing. Pathetic,
aren’t they? Humans.”

“You are absolutely correct, my lord.”

Barbatos smirked as he edged up to Komorov, his lips turned downward in
arrogance. “Will he back out?”

 “It is unlikely, my lord. He is the willing victim in the spider’s web.
Beneath his façade of strength is the usual matrix of weaknesses.”

Lord Barbatos’s deep-throated laugh rippled
through the realms of darkness. He examined Komorov. Despite being two hundred
years of age, he looked strong and healthy. “You will be a key member of the
human civilization in time to come.”

“My gratitude, my lord. Without your
guidance, I would have withered like the flower in the harsh desert.”

“Flattery is a bad practice of the humans that you should not learn.”

“It is also a necessary skill for survival,
my lord.”

“In moderation please, Boris. Now, go forth
and continue with your plans. We will converse when the time is ripe.”

Boris Komorov bowed low as he
retreated from the domain.

After he was alone, Lord Barbatos moved to a corner of the room where he
had a map on the table. It depicted the terrain around his castle, and dotted
with red flags which showed the positions of his armies. That reminded him of
his next guest.

Count Raum, dressed in the warrior armour
of black, appeared shortly, and bowed in obeisance. “What is the state of the
operation around America?”

“The familiars and other forms of demons
have submerged themselves into the seas of humans and will commence their
subversion. Soon, there will be an increase in crime, as men give into their
anger, fear and greed.

“How is the preparation for our scheme?”
Barbatos asked.

“They are ready, my lord. We have the armies of Familiars and Demons, and
goblins of the woods ready.”

“Prepare your army well, Count Raum.”

“Yes.”

Barbatos walked up to Raum, his boots clicking with each step.

“You said the same thing when you took
three legions of Familiars to hunt down the Springs siblings.”

“My lord—” Raum was silent.

“Do not let failures become a habit. It is
a bad habit to grow.”

“Victory will be ours eventually.”

Lord Barbatos shook his head. “You have one
last
chance. Prove yourself, Ivan.”

Barbatos paused and tightened his lips as Count Raum remained bowed,
looking at his own feet.

“Look at me!” Barbatos ordered. Ivan
obeyed, raising his head in slow motion.

“If you fail again, your replacement will
be here in no time.” Barbatos’s eyes narrowed as the irises burst into flame.

The glimmering stars in the skies were the
only assistance Gwyneth enjoyed in the charting her course. Her senses had not
fully recovered and astronomy was her next-best ally in finding her
destination. Taking the North Star as reference, she headed west to the valleys
as hinted by Prince Vassago. Her flight was smooth, with no physical
discomfort. She could not help but said a prayer for Vassago.

Rarely, in the history of their war, had a
Demon crossed the line to assist an Angel. In the chronicles of Heaven, which
recorded the ancient events of the realms of Heavens and Hell, such incidents
could be counted with a pair of hands. Although both classes of supernatural
beings had originated from the same source—they were originally angels—they
were now as incompatible as fire and water.

The treachery of a Demon can never be
forgotten and Gwyneth did entertain the notion that Vassago harbor shady
motives. However, after much deliberation, her inner voice triumphed, and she
trusted the Demonic prince. Gwyneth was only a whisker away from expiry and the
Prince did not need to deliberately walk her into any trap.

She also remembered the realm of Hell was
never a unified monolithic entity. There were various sects jostling for
favours and powers. Lucifer wanted it that way; it ensured that he stayed on
top of the seething seas of darkness, as the Demon Lords competed against each
other. Lord Barbatos could be, as the prince had said, amassing powers by
advancing a new agenda against humanity.

She hoped the doubts can be resolved at her
destination.

Gwyneth thought of Maganus and Jin, and
sped up in her flight, eager for a reunion.

However, suddenly, a warm sensation
caressed her heart—a familiar sensation. There was a long howl coming from the
breadth of the landscape. Gwyneth swooped in over the edge of the woods and
noticed a familiar silhouette. It was Marz, the white wolf and his howls were
deep in longing.

Gwyneth landed, and by the edge of the woods, both master and companion
enjoyed an intense moment of reunion. Gwyneth felt the soft fur, which offered
an amiable feel after the chill of the primate forests.

“I thought we would never meet again. I
came so close to losing you forever,” she said. Then Gwyneth turned solemn.
“Tell me. Is Maganus alright?”

Marz responded in a series of whimpers.

“What happened?” Gwyneth asked. “Tell me.”

The wolf whispered into her ear.

“A terrible battle between the familiars
and Maganus’s
sodalitas
?” Gwyneth crossed her chest as she interpreted
Marz’s whispers.

“The kingling with Maganus?”

Marz nodded.

“Alas, an epic tussle is about to begin,”
Gwyneth whispered as she stood. “I must head for the valleys to the west. Marz,
inform Maganus of my whereabouts.”

The snow wolf edged up closer and whispered
again.

“A young girl has been taken?”
Prince
Vassago was honest.

Marz’s information added to the burden of worry in her heart. “I must
leave now. Search for any Bellators you met and direct them to Maganus.”
Gwyneth stood and stretched her wings, but before she took to the sky, a
thought burst into her consciousness.

“It is a trap.” She whispered. “The girl is
bait.” Her voice thickened “Magnus is walking into a trap!”

She paused and then said. “We need to
summon our old allies.”

Marz ears stood and his eyes brightened as
his tail wagged.

Marz edged closer as Gwyneth explained. “To
the east of the woods, on the highlands, there are ancient tribes who are
allied to the Angels. They are tribes of battle dwarves. God-fearing, they are
our friends. Invisible to the eye of the average human being, they can only be
seen by one of us. Go to them and summon them with the mention of my name.”

Gwyneth then removed a wrist brace, a brace
made from the snow crystals that originated from the depths of the Antarctic
seas. Every Guardian Angel possessed an ornament to symbolize a persona, and
the snow crystals were hers.

“They will know I sent you,” Gwyneth said
as she strapped it around the Marz’s

left front leg. “After you have located the dwarves,
go down the river, into the beds of meadows where

centuries-old mushrooms grew to the height of adults. When you are there,
seek the audience of wise old Queen Catherina of the Forest Fairies. Gracious
and wise, she has been the guardian of these woods. Bring them. We shall
rendezvous at the valley to the west.”

Gwyneth gently stroked Marz’s head. “Take
care, Marz.”

The snow wolf nodded and, with whirlwind speed, melted into the depths of
the woods.

#

Marz galloped through the woods like blazing lightning. His speed was
extraordinary and only specie from heaven could achieve that. He maneuvered
first through the thick woods, then crossed the flat plains and up a hill.
After that he found himself looking down at acres of thick forest. It was the
heart of the reserve, away from the outer zones, and a virgin region, seldom if
ever visited by man.

The towering heights of the trees bore
testimony to the age of the forests. The thickness showed it was largely
unmolested by the human race. Marz slowed his pace as he studied his
environment for any life forms. It was almost dawn and paths of light from
oozing through the crowns of trees, formed patches of light on the ground.

Suddenly, he sensed something. It was not
pleasant but it was not dark and certainly it did not come from the demonic
armies. It was just something alien to Marz. Before he could size up the presence,
he heard a whistling sound.

An arrow!

Marz leapt into the air and got out of harm’s way. The arrow sunk onto
the trunk of a tree, two yards from Marz. The white wolf flashed its teeth as
it confronted the archer.

However, unseen by him was net thrown over
him. When it came, he could not react in time. Fear, chill and total darkness
soon enveloped him.

                                                          #