Of Kings and Demons (28 page)

Mathew took a step forward.

“Mathew, he killed your granduncle and
aunt!” Gwyneth shouted

Mathew looked at Gwyneth, then Barbatos, and hesitated. Then Mathew
turned and rejoined his friends. He hugged Gwyneth and picked up his sword
again.

Lord Barbatos’s eyebrows thickened with
fury, his ego pricked by the rejection. “If this is your choice, humans, then
be prepared for the consequence! There will be only one outcome: annihilation.”
His booming voice resonated through the woods and sent waves of chill to all
beings within proximity.

The Dark Lord raised his right hand and
sent bolts of lightning in all directions, striking down the allies of the
angels, the dwarves and fairies. Within seconds the victims turned into heaps
of ash. Many allies of the Angels perished and Barbatos was ready to unleash
another strike. Then he stopped—a projectile landed right in front of him.

Barbatos froze for a moment. Then dread
dawned upon him as he identified the object. The severed head of Eberhard. Like
a distraught owner of a pet, his face underwent a dramatic change, from a
display of haughty arrogance to sorrow and finally eventual embarrassment.

His lips quivered for a moment, but only
for a moment. Then Barbatos was smiled as if nothing had happened. He picked up
the head and bowed. Then he shut his eyes and began to chant in deep tones.

Gwyneth turned to Jin. “He is going to be
very upset.”

Mathew added, “It must be Maganus.”

“Credit to him, but it is going to be ugly
for us all,” Jin whispered as he eyed Lord Barbatos, who was framed in a ring
of red light.

“Why?” Mathew asked.

“That is a grievance no dark lord will
forget,” Jin said. “Eberhard is his favourite. It was raised from six hundred
sixty-six souls of bloodthirsty warriors and murderers of the dark side. Now,
instead of one enemy, we are going to have six hundred of them.”

As the Angels watched in horror, Barbatos
transformed Eberhard’s head. In a trance, his face twisted in a mixture of
hatred and sorrow, Barbatos chanted as Eberhard’s head disintegrated into dust
and ashes. The fragments dissipated into the air and began to mutate and grow
like fetuses. First the head, then the limbs and the wings sprouted in a series
of creaks and croaks. Soon the form of gargoyles was completed, and the sky was
filled with blood-thirsty demons. The cacophony of spleen-splitting shrills gripped
the souls of all present.

“Dear all, the game ends here,” Barbatos
said. “You will pay for your stupidity. The Angels lose. The Kings lose.”

Barbatos directed his hands at Gwyneth like
an orchestra conductor would, and the hundreds of gargoyles, obedient
instrument players, took the cue and descended on the Angels.

Gwyneth pushed Jin away, took the front spot and clasped her hands in
prayers. “
Copiae copie of snow , audite meus dico. Copiae copie of tempestas
, audite meus dico
.” Forces of snow, hear my call. Forces of weather, hear
my call.

Jin grabbed Gwyneth instantly. “The spell
will paralyze you!” he warned.

“What choice do we have, my friend,”
Gwyneth explained. Her eyes were wet. “Tell Lord Michael, I tried my best.”

“You tell him yourself, Gwyneth.”

An obstinate Gwyneth pushed Jin aside and
proceeded with her spell.

A gale rose and grew into a tower-high
crescendo. It rolled towards the ensemble of dark forces like a gargantuan
juggernaut. Waves of snow fell upon the gargoyles. Upon impact, the snow burnt
onto the iron-grey hide of the gargoyles and familiars, melting them in the heavenly
snow amidst a cacophony of agony and pain.

Barbatos undid his robes and he, too,
clasped his palms in casting a spell. Within seconds, the slain gargoyles
multiplied in numbers and returned to action. They had been resurrected!

The exertion drove Gwyneth to the limits, and she dropped to her knees.
She was spent but her efforts wasted.

“My dear Angels, your resistance is
futile.” Barbatos said,

With their slouched shoulders and jaded
expressions, the Angels were a portrait of despondency. Mathew picked up his
sword and stood by the Angels, wielding the sword at the approaching gargoyles.
A fallen wing, a lobbed off limb and he was a figure of unfading courage.

Just then a figure bolted from the dark and
landed next to him.The new arrival brought much relief – a robust Maganus who
stroke his beard.

Ready to do his part, Maganus inhaled and pushed his broad torso forth,
pulled back his fists and roared “
Victoria ut Angelus.’
Victory to the
Angels!”

His vocals bred a tidal wave of decibels
that sliced through the advancing gargoyles and left a trail of corpses and
debris. The Demons recoiled like a wound animal and circled over Barbatos in
caution.

Maganus’s decibels hit Barbatos and sent
the Demon Lord edging back a few feet. The Dark Lord steadied his foothold with
a sharp and firm twist of his right foot. Barbatos was flabbergasted at the
defiance of his opponent, clasped his hands for another resurrection spell but
a sharp pain in his abdomen halted his attempt.

 Maganus teased. “How do you find my voice?
You might need a respite?” However, the taunt was Maganus’s final act of
resistance. The Angel puked blood and slumped by the side of his fellow Angels,
grey and short of breath.

Gwyneth checked on him. “You have aged.”

“So have you, Gwyneth.”

“Younger than you by half, all the time.”

“What do we do now? Gwyneth?” Mathew asked,
half kneeling by Maganus.

“Perhaps you would like to give us a
miracle?” She said

“Is this a joke?” Mathew asked “Only Angels
can. I am just a normal human.”

“The future King of Men has the powers to
perform a miracle? In a crisis, moments as such, they will be able to do so.”

Maganus’s eyes shifted to Mathew.

“Maybe that moment has arrived.” He
remarked.

As the Angels conversed, Lord Barbatos had
replenished his energies. The pain had subsided and he felt a wave of heat
warming his veins, the powers had returned. He marveled at his regenerative
powers, a testimonial to the power of the dark side.

Barbatos flexed his muscles as he eyed the
vulnerable Angels. It is time for the final move. He raised a hand, a casual
gesture and the waves of gargoyles took the cue. They besieged the Angels like
a loop of death, ready to drop anytime and strangle the victims.

Barbatos bent over to Sarah—who had her head
in her hands—and whispered, “Your friends are tired. They would not last very
long, Sarah. You want to witness their final scene?”

Sarah’s eyes widened with horror “Spare them please,” she said, her plea
barely audible as tears streaked down her cheeks.

“Persuade them to stop their resistance to
prevent unnecessary sacrifices,” Barbatos smiled with the smugness of a general
who was about to receive his enemy’s surrender.

Barbatos expected Sarah to crumple and give
the obedient nod but the girl shook her head. Within a split second, Barbatos’s
characteristic smirk vanished and an iron mask of anger dropped over his
aristocratic face. With a wave, he smacked the girl to the ground.

“Defiance will not be rewarded, my child.”
Barbatos locked his huge hand over Sarah’s neck, lifted into the air, and shook
her. He looked at Mathew. “Your turn is next!”

Barbatos’s smack triggered Mathew who made
a mad dash at the Demon Lord, sword in hand. Maganus and Jin tried to restrain
him but he was beyond their grasp.

In the background, the silhouette of a
grotesque being lurked, and emerged from the woods. A beastly cry that sounded
like the hybrid of a lion’s roar and human’s shrill heralded its arrival.
However it was the sound of the flapping wings that really caught the attention
of the Angels.

“Manticore!” Maganus whispered in belated
realization. He ran as fast as he could but the
mutatio vox
has sapped
him dry. His legs gave way and he fell, too late save the boy, but in time to
witness his demise.

Mathew was only a yard from Barbatos,
poised to strike when the prized creation of Lord Barbatos wielded its
scorpion-like tail. The stinger pierced Mathew’s back and protruded from his
chest. His mouth was agape in agony in the midst of a drowning roar that echoed
through the surroundings. Blood and tissues from Mathew’s body trickled down
the tail and stained the grass a grisly red.

The spectacle of Mathew, skewered on the
tail of the Manticore, robbed the breath of the Angels. They stood silent.
Sorrow bursting through their veins and yet words failed them.

Maganus broke the silence with a long wail, a deep howl that echoed into
the woods and roused even the trees. Gwyneth was on her feet. She clasped her
hands, ready for prayer-spell but Jin stopped her.

“No.”

“I need to revive him.” She cried.                          

“Another exertion will certainly kill you,”
he said. “And only an Arch Angel can resurrect those killed in battle,
Gwyneth.” Jin reminded.

Mathew’s body was flung off the sting,
dropped to the ground in a series of twitches before finally lying still.

Nobody, neither the Demons nor the Angels
moved. With Sarah in his cuff, like a rabbit, he sauntered over his prized
servant. He gave the Manticore a firm pat. His characteristic smirk burst into
twisted chuckle. “Death to the fool, and he sure was one.”

  However, Sarah struggled and her feet hit Barbatos on the chest. Shocked
and insulted, Barbatos cast Sarah to the ground. Then he turned to the Angels
and remnants of their allies. He directed his hands at them, and the forces of
Demons and the circling gargoyles took the cue and advanced in unison to
complete their annihilation of the forces of the good.

Barbatos spotted Queen Catherine, who was
coordinating the battle. He hurled a bolt of lightning at the matriarch of Tree
Fairies and turned her into ashes.

The latest casualties thickened Gwyneth’s
moods “I summoned them and they came in fulfillment of honour. For their
loyalty, they are paid with death.” She lowered her head, crossed her chest,
and prayed for their souls

“Is that all you can do, Gwyneth?” Barbatos
taunted as a winner would. He paced in front of the Angel and taunted her. “Can
someone please give me a fight? A real fight!”

When the disconsolate Angels did not
respond, Barbatos continued. “The next chapter of history will be written by us
with the future of the human race
altered
. The era for the Demons has
arrived. My Angel friends, your failure is complete. Do you have grace to
congratulate me?”

He turned to Gwyneth and threw a taunt “Why
are you eyes closed?”

“Seeing you in this twisted state always
pained me. I shut my eyes the first time I witnessed your passage to darkness
and submission to Lucifer. I don’t want to see you as you are now, blind to the
good side and twisted beyond salvation.”

Gwyneth’s words brought about an awkward
silence with Barbatos now at a loss for words. His mask of fury softened, for a
moment, only a moment, and then the vintage frown took control again.

“You lost me a long time ago.”

        “A failure you were.” Gwyneth nodded.

“Don’t quote me as an example of failure. I
was your fault.” He jabbed an authoritative finger at the Guardian Angels,
first at Jin, then Maganus. “All of you are responsible for these failures.”

“I know mankind had let you down in the
past,” Maganus said with a tormented expression. “Back in the ages when we were
your mentors, circumstances were unique. There were wars in Europe, Catholicism
versus Protestantism, royals against royals and brothers fought brothers. We
don’t decide, circumstances decide, Barbatos.”

“Excuses!” Barbatos cut the air with his
right palm and in a rash gesture, unleashed a bolt of energy into the battling
columns. His whimsical burst of anger wiped out all forms of life, Demons and
allies of Angels, within a fifty-yard diameter. The cries of agony and tang of
death drifted in the midst of the carnage.

        “Anything else you want to add?” he asked.

Barbatos noticed Gwyneth eyes shifted to
the corpse of Mathew Springs.

“The dark side has prevailed, Gwyneth.”

“You can never enslave the humans,” she said
as her cheeks turned wet. “After we are gone, many more will carry the flag.”

“Your ignorance is unbelievable.”

Gwyneth sensed something. “What do you
mean?

Barbatos glowed, smirked and then broke out
laughing with the pride of the ownership of an exclusive secret.

“
illa
qui
susurrat
…” he whispered

“What do you mean?”

“Not even an Angel like you knew? Barbatos
teased as the sight of Gwyneth’s painful ignorance warmed his ego.

Barbatos cleared his throat.

“I overheard a conversation between
Archangels and they spoke of someone who will be great, somebody who will set
the course of history for mankind for the next five centuries -
quinque
centum
annis
.”

“You heard the
secrets
.”

Barbatos nodded with pride that he had
dropped a shocker.

“She is the true decider. She will be
somebody great. Her whispers…”

There was a pause and then everybody,
Gwyneth’s and Barbatos’s eyes fell on Sarah.  
Barbatos continued his rant. “All of you had thought
the kingling I wanted was Mathew.” Barbatos glanced at the corpse of the lad
“How wrong you were!”

“What do you mean?”

“Foolish.” Barbatos hissed with a
dismissive hand.

“After she is dead, there is no purpose in
your fighting anymore.”

The Guardian Angels huddled together,
struggling with the truth. The Demon Lord was beyond elaborating the truth. He
was prepared to wrap up the action. He summoned the remaining gargoyles and
raised his hand, the drop of which will send the hundreds of gargoyles onto the
hapless Angels.

As the Angels and Demons altercated, Sarah
was prostrated, by the slain Mathew, in silent mourning, a picture of forlorn
serenity. She has clasped her hands in prayer.

        “Which of you would like to shed your blood?” Barbatos challenged
“Which one of you?” he repeated.

The Guardian Angels, exhausted, strained to
put on a stoic front. Barbatos’s moment of truth was the last straw.

The Duke of Demons continued his diatribe
“Cowards, and I thought selflessness was your hallmark.”

“Let it be me.”
A whisper.

Barbatos looked around. It was not Maganus,
Jin, or Gwyneth.

Slowly, he turned and frowned at Sarah.
“What do you think you are doing?”

She repeated, “Let it be me.”

“You want to die in their place?” Barbatos
asked, and Sarah nodded.

“You pathetic little flower. Say that
again.”

But Sarah continued to pray, her head
bowed. “Take my life. You took Mathew’s, take mine, too.”

Barbatos chuckled. “Sarah Springs, your
turn will come later. I need a spectator anyway.”

Barbatos turned to the Angels and raised
his muscular arms. Sparks of lightning began to spew from his hands as a ball
of red energy grew in his palms.

He scanned the Angels, trying to decide the
first victim of his killer blow. “Maganus,” he said. “Real annoyance and always
like a leech, irritating and yet difficult to remove. More importantly, you have
to pay for killing Eberhard.”

Then Barbatos lifted his head and glanced
around. A gale had begun and the ball of energy in his hands began to shrink
until it disappeared. Streams of light began to slice through the darkness and
shone over the landscape.

Barbatos glared at Gwyneth. “This is one of
your tricks!” But when he witnessed the similar bewilderment on the White
Angel’s face, he paused. Maganus and Jin were equally dumbfounded.

Barbatos soon discovered the creator of the phenomenon - Sarah. A ring of
light had enveloped her, and it was growing. Barbatos cuffed her neck and raised
her like a hapless squirrel.

However, Barbatos’s desire was frustrated
when streams of heat consumed his gloves and seeped into his skin. He dropped
Sarah. He regretted not killing her much earlier.

Confounded, Barbatos watched as the fount
of light spewed bolts of lightning. A portal was gradually being formed as a
gale garnered such strength that even Barbatos found his foothold slipping as
the winds beat on his flawless face. As he struggled, he witnessed Count Raum
hurled from his mount.

Shattering his composure was the sight of
his legions of Familiars fading in gradual obliteration, dissipating in the
winds like salt in water.

“Nooooo!” Barbatos wailed, his composure
crumbled like his armies. “This can’t be.”

The portal doors were now opened and a shaft of light fell on Barbatos.
“Sarah!” he called but the girl did not look up. Barbatos tried to summon the
gargoyles, but his limbs were beyond his control and he could only watch as his
army of gargoyles fell like burnt fowl.

Then he heard the pounding drums and
blaring horns, a sound from a distant past, an ancient rhythm that resonated
through his memory.
So familiar.
The beating of the wings and the
galloping of horses confirmed his worst fears. In the portal he saw a
silhouette that gradually grew into a figure. He knew the rider, a familiarity
that triggered a chill in the depths of his hellish soul.

The winged horse, on which mounted a rider
of emerged and wheeled around him. The horse eventually stopped by the side of
the Angels. The light had become so powerful that Barbatos had to shield his
eyes. Then, the light dimmed.

The broad-shouldered figure was taller than
Barbatos. Clad in the knightly white robes, he was the epitome of simplicity
and grace. His wings, handsomely endowed and creamy white, lent him an
indomitable presence.

“Impossible!” Barbatos muttered and forced
himself to look at the Arch Angel again. The Demon began to tremble as the
figure drew closer, like a disciple facing his master.

“Michael?”
Michael!
He continued.

The Archangel’s thick, snowy-white hair
flowed in the wind, his white eyebrows shadowed deep-blue irises that carried a
solemn glaze, The immaculate cleft chin, proud nose, the tender lips and the
unassuming airs, all vintage Archangel Michael.

Instinctively, Barbatos struck with his
right fist but in a lightning-swift motion, the Archangel parried and held the
hand by its wrist.