Of Kings and Demons (4 page)

“Whadahell is this?” The deep, booming
voice resonated through the limousine. For a moment, there was dead silence.
Nobody in the motorcade spoke.

“Guys, speak.” Walter Johnson, governor of
New Hampshire said, mellowed a tad.

There were some coughs before Mary Walkins,
one of his key aides responded. “It is from the White House.”

They were in the midst of the daily
briefing session before the governor was about to address the graduates of the
state university. Walkins was responsible for the daily information briefs and had
placed a security-warning memo issued by the White House as the first item.

Walter Johnson scanned the memo. “In the
last twenty-four hours, one senator, three top scientists, and fourteen
university graduates have been murdered?” He swore and then remarked. “Is this
some kind of terrorist attack?”

“We are not sure,” said Adam Conner, the
other aide briefing the governor. “The FBI is investigating and the National
Security Advisor has advised the president to put the national on Deacon 2.”

 Walter pronounced, with his face reddened
with anger. “Unacceptable. Outrageous loss of lives, and White House is waiting?
I am having none of this bullshit. It is obviously coming right at the United
States. A good president, a good commander-in-chief, would immediately meet up
with his FBI, CIA, and NSA directors and issue a coordinated statement and
integrate security measures.”

“May … maybe they are doing it now,” Adam said,
his voice quivering.

“Oh come on, do we—?”

Walter’s was interrupted by a strong cough.
It came from the man seated next to him; a man who had been silent for the past
fifteen minutes. The governor looked up and asked. “Robin?”

Walter Johnson addressed his senior
advisor, a friend of more than thirty years.

“Look, Walter, what are you getting upset
with them for? They hadn’t started the attack, and they are not from the White
House. We are all victims of circumstances.”

Walter bit his lips. “Sorry, guys. I have
flown off the handle again. It is just this White House…” The governor shook
his head.

“You know Cooper is one of the most failed
bastards to sit in the Oval office.”

Walter said. “Easy on the languge.”

Robin quickly retorted. “Look who’s
talking.”

“I am equally guilty.” Walter relented and
turned to Walkins. “Continue with whatever you have got.”

“The White House obviously thought this was
some kind of coordinated attacks. They are beefing up the security of all key
office holders across the country and that included you, sir.”

 “As if the couple of agents I have now are
not already a hassle,” Walter grumbled.

“Can we have some privacy please?” Robin
said, and the aides immediately exited the limousine.

When they were finally alone, Walter asked,
“What is it?”

“You know,” Robin said.

“What?” Walter demanded.

Robin held his stony expression a moment
before he relented and dropped his pretence. Walter knew Robin’s intention—he
was waiting for an answer. It was a difficult act, and Walter wished feigning
ignorance could afford him a way out of the awkwardness.

“You are crazy,” Walter muttered.

“Insanity is a key ingredient for great
endeavours,” Robin replied.

“Which great man of history are you
quoting?” Walter said.

“Me.” Robin gesticulated with his hands.

“Arrogant asshole,” Walter cried.

The rebuke left Robin chuckling.

“What are you laughing?” Walter asked.

“They say that birds of a feather flock
together,” Robin said.

Walter shook his head. “I have none of your
crazy scheme.”

“I am crazy. Don’t tell me you never
thought of running for—”

“The White House?”

Robin nodded. “Come on, Walter!”

The governor stared out of the window. “You
know …” he said, then paused.

“Know what?” Robin said.

“There are many candidates better than I
am.”

“Better than you? Who are you talking
about? Senator James Wallace? Patricia Wiley of California or Congressman Paul
Buchanan of Michigan?”

“They are,” Walter said. “Some leaders.”

“They are not even half of you on their
best days, and they ain’t got that many best days.”

“Don’t be derogative of others,” Walter
said.

“They are not good enough for the White
House.”

“What makes one good enough for the White
House? Listing a set of qualities degenerates the office. It is about something
special, so special you can’t just name it. It is about what is here.” Walter
patted left side of his chest. “You are not in a position to decide or judge
who is the right person, Robin. ”

“So tell me what matters in choosing the
right guy?” Robin asked. “I am dying to be inspired by someone to step out on
polling day to cast that sacred vote! After eight years of rot, and rudderless
leadership, I need some inspiration, Governor.”

“History runs on the fuel of human passion.
The right man, the right candidate, with that burning desire and instinct of
doing the right thing, will step forward and make that decision, Robin. If any
of those men and women you mentioned has those qualities; it will happen. You
just need to trust Providence.”

“You had just given me the reason to vote
for you in 2020 to be our next president.” Robin said.

Walter threw up his hands in exasperation.
“I am not talking to you Robin. I am tired. I just want to be with Penelope and
the grandchildren. The last thirty years I have barely been at home for more than
a week. Now I want to make up for it.”

“You are going to abandon all of us then?
Exit politics and whole nation suffers a loss.”

“I am going to ignore you. Get out of the
car.” Walter said in jest.

Robin turned serious. “Just yourself,
Walter. Who is going to be on the centre stage if you leave? The seven dwarves?
You going to allow a motley crew to get into the White House and run this
country? Can we, or the world, afford another four years of disaster and
embarrassment?”

Walter was about to rebut when he paused.
He heard something in the background –
helicopters!

He knocked on the windows and immediately
the door swung open. Tim Jakes, his trusted head of security detail bent over.

“What is going on? Helicopters?”

“They had just beefed up your security,
Sir.” Jakes explained

“My security? What the hell is going on?”

“Sir it is Deacon 3. 2
professors at Yale had just been
assassinated.”

Walter turned to Robin, his face bursting
with alarm
, his mouth gaping
for words to express his incredulity
.
He needed answers.

*
             

The unusual phenomenon of an
early winter had brought on a mood of melancholy that accompanied the usual
sense of fear induced by all things uncertain. In the midst of an unexpected
rash of assassinations and murders, the weather only added to the atmosphere of
despair and intrigue.

There was much speculation in
the realm of humans about the weather, but hardly anybody had accurately named
the cause of it all.

Maganus was alerted by his
soldiers, animal friends of the assassination of Leo Kenyon. He knew the
prominent scientist is the charge of Gwyneth the Fair, the White Angel. The
unexplained spate of killings has brought him to the edge of fear, the looming
darkness that resided in his psyche, the psyche of all Angels. Touching that
darkness will impair the powers of Angels and Maganus had relied on his mastery
to steer clear of giving in to fear.

He checked the venue of the
assassination, the debris and the blood stains. Although the maimed corpse has
been removed, Maganus could sense the stench of death, fear, blood and the
sulphuric odour of a demon.

They had returned.

Maganus left the building, a
hurried man. He strolled down the environment. He had to find Gwyneth and he
sensed she has been here, and was still around. It had begun to snow, again.

He walked into the woods,
fording through inches of snow. He shut his eyes and prayed and then there was
a break of breeze and he sensed it.

He opened his eyes and saw a
silhouette of light.

She, the reason for the snow, was
seated on the sturdy branch of an aged tree. She seemed barely touched by snow,
epitome of grace and beauty. Her fair hair was plaited and rested on her
shoulders. Her eyes were illuminating with kindness, and she was smiling.

He smiled.

“Think you want to stop this
snow?”

She smiled again. Such coyness
that would melt any hearts. She eyed the spot next to her and Maganus got the
cue. Within seconds he had transported himself next to the Gwyneth.

He sat nicely and lit his
smoking pipe.

“Your bad habit.”

“Finally you broke the silence.
Gwyneth, your chill can kill.” Maganus remarked as he took a deep inhale and
spewed rings of smoke in a long drawn-out exhale.

“Smoking will kill you not my
chill.”

“This is something that made
immortality of an angel bearable.”

Gwyneth raised her eyebrows “
Don’t let Archangel Michael hear you.”

Maganus chuckled. Then there
was a silence before he spoke.

“So what is this chill?”

“I lost control of my powers.”
Gwyneth sighed

“You had an insight?”

The White Angel nodded

“A war is imminent and there is
a terrible loss of lives. Many Kings will fall…” She whispered.

“Kings of Men?” Maganus
referred to the anointed leaders of mankind.

Gywneth brooded and then
dropped herself onto the ground. The moment her feet touched the ground, the
snow rescinded and flowers bloomed in the spaces and soon greenery spread to a two-hundred
feet radius. The phenomena are manifestations of the essence of the Angels’ power
whenever they are on Earth.

Gwyneth the Fair, the White
Angel, folded her wings and studied her environment. Her white robes, of pearly
pristine, was a fount of light that sent darkness away and gave life to nature.
From behind the bushes, a handsome creature of white fur, her trusted
companion, Marz, the white wolf emerged.

Leo Kenyon had been her best.
She found him when he was just a boy in a poor neighbourhood of Chicago. He
looked just like any other kid on the street, but there were characteristics
common to only Kings—that quiet strength, faith, and sense of purpose. Now he was
gone. The manner with which he was taken away underlay her emotional imbalance.

She crossed her chest and
murmured a prayer. Marz winced in empathy, and she stroked his head in return.
They shared a telepathic chemistry that dated to the first day the wolf had
been adopted.

“Good old friend.” Maganus had
joined them and patted the white wolf on the head.

“Were you alerted by the
cross?”

Maganus was referring to the
golden cross carried by all Guardian Angels.  The cross acted as a sensor to
detect the presence of darkness and the location of demons and will glow upon
the detection of darkness.

Gwyneth nodded.

“I was in the Acadian forests
in Canada when the Golden Cross glowed. It was  a heavy green. Then there was a
subtle prick in my heart”

Gwyneth remembered it was like
her inner reservoir of power, silent and asleep in the depths of her soul, had
been disrupted and waves began to churn. Once the inner tranquility was
disturbed, her powers were also significantly enhanced. This was paradoxically
a gift and a curse. Her powers, when disturbed, could be amplified and become a
potent weapon against the enemies.

In the fraternity of Guardian
Angels, they were all individually blessed with powers associated with the
seasons and weather. Gwyneth had hers linked to the winter and the snow. Her
emotions were intertwined with her ability to manipulate the snow and wind.
Through the centuries, Gwyneth had been learning techniques on the mastery of
her negative emotions of grief, anger, and displeasure, very much like taming
wild horses.

If she failed, and there had
been notable incidents of failure, it could bring a climatic catastrophe that
ranged from bouts of snowing to a cataclysmic snowstorm that could last for
days.

Hence the snow.

Gwyneth usually masters her
emotions well. However, of late, the emotional disturbance had intensified and
that meant only one thing - the ascendancy of darkness.

The Demons might be returning.

Although the Demons had been
incessant in their efforts of subversion of the human race, their battles had
always been behind-the-scene, conducted in the arena of the hearts and minds of
man. Outright attacks had been rare in the past three hundred years, since the
contest for Europe in the nineteenth century.

The Demons chose their targets with
caution. If they undertook a blatant attack on the Kings, it was only because these
Kings would frustrate the Demons’ efforts to control the realm of Earth, domain
of the human race.

Leo Kenyon has been deemed to
be the key to the future of the human race and by his elimination, a key link
in the train of events leading to a certain positive outcome in history would
be eliminated. History will be rewritten and the balance between good and evil
gravely upset with unimaginable consequences for the realm of Earth.

Gwyneth could remember two recent
examples—the assassination attempts on Ronald Reagan and John Paul II, when the
Demons orchestrated attacks on the Kings to further their cause. Both the
American president and Catholic pope went on to bury Communism and relieved
millions from unimaginable catastrophes.

Historians have written
hypothetically on the change of the course of history brought about by the
triumph of capitalism. Little could they imagine the consequences for humanity
had the two Kings of Men failed and Communism was allowed to continue. Human
civilizations would have faced cultural and economical stagnation within
decades.

After the Demons were defeated
in a major battle with the Angels in the previous century, such outright
attacks had ceased.
What will be the significance of this sanguinary attack
now? War between Angels and Demons going to return?

“You must not let your feelings
get ahead of you.”

“My emotions are hard to manage
at times. Wild mares. The insights are like vapour.” Gwyneth looked around.
“Moreover, you can see what they have done.

Maganus shook his head. “We have
seen worse and we triumphed. I know Leo Kenyon was one of the most promising
Kings, and you had watched over him since he was a child.”

“Maganus, it not just my
emotional attachment to Leo. I fear for mankind. Do you know the significance
of this attack? They are going for all the kinglings.”

Maganus put aside his pipe and,
as he always did, stroked his plaited hair while he dispensed advice. His
mannerism smacked of nonchalance. However, it was actually a deep-seated
confidence and equanimity, traits he possessed because he was less emotionally
attached to the kinglings.

Kinglings collectively referred
to the young of mankind who had been chosen to be Kings of Men, leaders of the
human civilization. They would be specially mentored, trained, and guided. A
special destiny, a train of events would be designed as a baptism of fire,
mapped specially to develop those individuals. To prevent subversion by the
Demons, they were mostly born into obscurity, away from the wicked eyes of the
Demons until they were old enough to fend for themselves.

“I worried about a pair of
kinglings. Earlier I had met the defenders, the Bellators and they have set out
to find a pair of siblings.”

“Siblings?”

“They were under my charge.
Strangely after Kenyon’s death was known, they were on my mind. My intuition
tells me things are not that simple.”

“War over two kinglings?”

Gwyneth hesitated. The chill
returned

“I fear the worst.”

“Fear is our
greatest enemy. It was fear that led many a king to switch to the

dark side. It was fear that drove mankind
to the brink of destruction. It was fear that created the malaise of confidence
that retarded the progress of civilization. We must not let the same dark
feeling take root. Never.”

Gwyneth took a deep breath.

“Breathe, if you must. A puff,
I can offer?” Maganus lifted his pipe but Gwyneth only smiled. Maganus’s humor
was always the light to drive away darkness, and bring hope to her despair and
spring to her winters.

Gwyneth mulled.

“What moulds humanity?”

“That’s obvious.” He was smug
“Ideas.”

Gwyneth nodded “Notwithstanding
human leaders steered the course of civilization, aided by us, it is ideas that
drove these Kings, and attract followers to  their cause.”

Gwyneth paused.

“Within the next fifty years,
mankind will arrive at a critical juncture of their evolution when confusion
and moral decline is prevalent. New ideas that evoked memories of the golden
ages will be needed to revive human civilization and drive them forward.”

“And the siblings are going to
be part of it…” Maganus mumbled.

“Obviously somebody from the
dark side knew about them.”

There was a stony silence and
the Guardian Angels exchanged looks

 “It is someone we know.”

Gwyneth smiled at their
telepathic chemistry. It amazes her. A heavy silence followed. Maganus spoke
first, his walnut-sized eyes narrowing into slits of contemplative light. “I
have not seen
him
for ages.”

Gwyneth was silent.

“Let waste no time.” Maganus turned
to Pologus. “Help me, my friend.” The fowl nodded and darted off like a
thunderbolt through the window and into the night.

Pologus was a celestial being
that had served the cause of the Angels and Kings since the Dark Ages. It used
to be a war fowl of a noble German chieftain and served in numerous battles
against the dark forces of Demons. However, Pologus was killed when the
barbarians massacred the entire tribe of its master.

Maganus found the carcass and
raised Pologus from death with his breath. The hawk possessed the ability to
trace sources of danger and track down the presence of Kinglings.

Pologus returned soon and
circled the air, then with a shrill rested on Maganus’s arm. The fowl whispered
in his ear, and Maganus turned to Gwyneth and Father Bellator. “Pologus failed
to find anyone. We will need more help.” He then dug into his tunic bag and
pulled out the Celestial Compass, the
complector
, a trusted tool.

It looked like an ordinary
compass. The cover was metallic and bereft of design. But once it was flicked
open, the ordinariness stopped. Compasses were used to locate bearings and plot
directions, but the Celestial Compass was used to track the location of the
Kings and reveal the presence of Demons.

There was only one needle, but
it did not point north. Instead, the needle indicated the location of the
Kings. On the edge of the compass, in place of the bearings, there were twelve
golden beads that glowed to indicate the strength of the presence of Kinglings
or Angels. The minerals were harnessed when the first continents were formed
from the larva of the grand volcanoes.

After much scrutiny, Maganus
spoke, uncertainty laden in his voice. “The needle is unstable and oscillating
between the southwestern and western sectors.”

“The Demons have jammed our
compasses.” Gwyneth muttered.