The Keys of Solomon (15 page)

Of all the possible scenarios that Kiel had envisioned, this was the least likely of them all. Among the Brethren, Orus was perhaps the nearest to the Runner in terms of intellect and cunning. A brilliant strategist, Orus had plotted more than one successful raid against the Host. Though Kiel maintained a healthy respect for the fallen angel's mastery of deception and subterfuge, he also knew the Principality had spoken the truth about one thing: As a warrior, Orus was no match for either Kiel or Nathan.

“Lies. Why would he offer aid?” said Nathan.

Kiel answered with a shrug. “I don't know. Regardless of his intentions, he's taken a great risk in coming here. Perhaps we should hear him out.”

Nathan sighed, then slumped his massive shoulders in acquiescence. “Do as you will. I can always kill him later. Grant him sanctuary.”

As Kiel performed the rite that would allow a fallen angel access to the sanctified grounds of the monastery, he watched Nathan from the corner of his eye. The celestial warrior smiled wolfishly and thumbed the edge of the Kiv.

*   *   *

Sanctuary. Asylum
. Two words seldom, if ever, used in the same breath with
Fallen
or the
Brethren
, titles referring to the same accursed traitors. A little more than one-third of the Heavenly Host, they had been cast down for aiding Lucifer's failed attempt at the ultimate blasphemy, the usurpation of God's throne. Kiel fully expected that number to swell in the very near future as a new usurper had arisen to challenge the Creator for the throne.

As Orus approached the building, Kiel tried to recall another instance in which the Host had granted one of the Brethren permission to tread upon consecrated ground.
The mechanism has always existed
, thought Kiel,
so surely it's been done. Surely
. However, he couldn't recall a single prior instance.
And so history is made
.

Orus, like most of his kind, wore a body that typified physical perfection. He was taller than Kiel by some few inches and more heavily muscled. Yet, both he and Kiel both knew that any physical confrontation between the two would end only in Orus's unmaking.

Orus stepped tentatively through the doorway and paused. When he didn't immediately burst into flames, his apprehension faded a notch and he gave Kiel a slight smile and brief nod of his shaved head. Kiel returned the nod, then led his sworn enemy through the common area of the small keep and into the kitchen. Orus was still smiling when he saw Nathan standing near the table, thumbing the edge of the Kiv. The smile evaporated and Orus took a quick step back. All color drained from his face.

“You guaranteed my safety!” The words were both a plea and an accusation. Nathan chuckled, but the sound was more akin to steel grinding against steel. His eyes, normally the color of quicksilver, were now pools of obsidian, and as cold as the depths of the Great Abyss.

“You would do well not to plant thoughts of treachery in my head, Orus.”

Kiel cast a disapproving glance in Nathan's direction, then stepped forward and pressed a mug of dandelion wine into Orus's trembling hands.

“You have our surety for as long as it takes to state your business.” Kiel nodded toward a chair on the other side of the table. “Sit.”

“Thanks, Kiel. I'm satisfied by your assertions.”

As Orus made his way around the table, Kiel nearly laughed aloud.
You despicable cur. You might accept my guarantee of safety, but you certainly keep one eye on Nathan. And maybe that's a prudent attitude.

Now seated, Orus looked at his surroundings. “I've always been curious about this place. Such stories about the former inhabitants … Although, I admit I can't understand why you choose to dwell in such a … an isolated location.”

“I think ‘primitive' is the word you're searching for,” said Kiel. “However it's really none of your concern. Besides, I don't think you would understand.”

Nathan spoke up, his voice soft but clearly full of venom. “What better home for the Host than ground sanctified by the sacrifices of righteous men? As for why we stay, the land is a haven, free of the taint. Until now.”

Emboldened by Kiel's guarantee of safety, Orus smirked. “Your anger does justice to Him. Like Father, like puppet, eh?”

Nathan pushed away from the table and stood. Rising to his full height of nearly seven feet, he towered over Orus. “Sanctuary or no, you will
not
make any reference to Him unless it is from your knees. Unless, of course, you are tired of living. Do you understand me?”

Orus gave Nathan a weak nod, then averted his eyes. Again Kiel suppressed a laugh. As a Domination, he was of a higher angelic Choir than either Nathan or Orus, but it was Nathan that Orus clearly feared. And rightly so. Nathan was an ultimate machine of war, and the Kiv was a nightmarish weapon in the hands of one such as him.

But enough of this.
“You said you have information.”

“Yeah. And I'm sure you're wondering why I would share it with you when it means I'll be an outcast among outcasts.”

Kiel smiled. “The question did cross my mind. After all, such a thing has no precedence. Not once since the Fall has a Brethren approached the Host and offered or requested aid. Why now?”

Orus took a sip of the wine. “Excellent. Extra dry and crisp. I suppose it's the spring water, eh? A subtle hint of blackberry and smoke. You make this?”

Kiel shook his head, then nodded to Nathan. “His handiwork. Now answer my question.”

Orus took a second sip, then set the cup to the side. “I'll warn you in advance, you won't believe me. Not that you should, of course, but you're really going to have trouble with what I'm about to tell you.”

Nathan smirked and said, “I
can
believe that much. Now talk before I run out of patience.”

“Easy,
muer maistirad mac tire
.”

Nathan's eyes narrowed. From the mouth of a Brethren, the ancient Gaelic title was little more than base profanity.

Orus continued as if unaware of Nathan's growing anger. “Great Master of Wolves. Some of the Brethren still refer to you by that name, did you know? But I digress.”

Orus turned in his seat and looked at Kiel. “The truth is that I
am
tired of living. And don't mistake me. I have no desire to die by Nathan's hand, though it's clear enough he'd like nothing better. But before I face the Void, I'd like to settle some old scores. By helping you, I help myself.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Is that it?” said Kiel.

Orus seemed to relax for the first time since entering the monastery. “Something like that. You see, unlike my Brethren, I freely admit that I made a grave mistake. My resentment of man got the best of me. Still, I've managed to carve out a nice niche for myself, given the circumstances. I'm not exactly contented, but for the most part life has been decent. Live and let live, that's not a bad creed for my kind.”

“A lie,” said Nathan. “Another and I'll remove your head from your body.”

“Oh, I don't deny that on occasion I've been instrumental in attacks against the Host. But I did only what I needed to in order to survive. The Runner is a severe taskmaster, as you might well imagine. I wasn't ready to ignore his orders and incur his wrath.”

“So what's changed?” asked Nathan. “You expect us to believe that after all these millennia you've only now developed a conscience? Or maybe you've finally discovered a backbone within that human form, and you're no longer afraid of your lord. Is that it?”

“My lord? No, he was never that. He was, however, by far the most formidable of our number. I assume you know that he was directly responsible for the pact with the Nine Princes of Sitra Akhra and Legion? It was his idea to flood this world with demonic entities. He sold us on the idea by using the premise that he could break the will of these hairless monkeys and finally subjugate them.”

“Of course we knew,” said Kiel. “Only the Runner had the power and motive necessary to broker such a deal.”

It was true. The world of Sitra Akhra existed on a plane so far removed from God's grace, love and righteousness were unknown concepts. The malevolent creatures that dwelled upon that plane, collectively known as Legion, were ruled by the Nine Princes, horrific demons of incalculable power. Only another supernatural entity of similar power, a being such as the Runner, could hope to bargain with the Nine.

Orus continued, “Ah, but what you don't know is why. His arrangement with the Nine went much further than facilitating an invasion of minor demons. In reality, he gave up on the notion of subjugation of mankind long ago. It was never his intention to simply alter the Veils. He wanted them destroyed, giving the Nine unfettered entrance into this world.”

Nathan leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. Kiel noticed that at some point during the exchange, Nathan had sheathed the Kiv.

“Ridiculous,” said Kiel. “He knows that should even one of the Nine cross over into the world of man, the universe and everything in it would unravel. Only Heaven itself would survive. It would be suicide and the Runner loves himself far too much.

Nathan paused and looked out through an open window for a moment. When he turned back to Orus, his ebony eyes were glassy and his tone was subdued. “It breaks my heart to admit this, especially to you, but I'm not so sure any of us can survive Legion, as it is. Too many have crossed over. While the Host and Fallen kill one another off, the demons embed themselves in the planet like some lethal parasite.”

Kiel flashed a warning glance, but Nathan ignored him and continued on. “The ranks of lesser demons, once numbering a few hundred, have now swelled to the thousands. Hundreds more, powerful lieutenants and Greater Demons, are organizing, gathering small armies of lesser minions and human thralls. As it is, we barely manage stalemate. Had even another hundred crossed over before the Offspring closed the Veil … No, the Runner has always been bent on the conquest and rule of humanity. Why should he now decide to turn the planet into a charred ember and take his own life in the process? The notion is insane!”

Orus shrugged. “We asked ourselves that very question. Believe or not as you like, but none of the Brethren, including Theoneal, had any idea of the Runner's real intentions. Not until it was nearly too late. Our conclusions match yours. The Runner
is
insane. Nuttier than a sack full of drunken monkeys, as the old saying goes. In his insanity, he betrayed us all.”

The answer was too simple, too convenient.
And that's why it nearly worked
, thought Kiel, as reality dawned.
Orus is telling the truth. How close did we come to losing all? Had it not been for the Offspring …
“Where is the Runner, now?”

Orus laughed. “I suspect he's still running. Some of the Brethren are a little put out with him, as you might imagine. Many of his former disciples now pursue him day and night, but no luck yet, I'm afraid. Frankly, I'm not so sure they really want to catch up with him. We all know what he becomes once the blood lust takes him over. I think only a few really hunt him in earnest.”

“When they're not hunting us, you mean,” countered Nathan.

“You've got me there,” admitted Orus. “But keep in mind, we were at war long before the Runner surrendered to madness.”

“Fine,” said Nathan. “You can't—or won't—tell us where he is. In fact, you haven't told us anything useful to this point. Knowing the Runner is crazy doesn't exactly aid our cause. We were already looking for him, as you well know.”

Orus grinned. “So don't be so eager to find him, Nathan. Don't take this personally, but you aren't his match. But I digress.

“Perhaps you'll consider this of some value. The Brethren are divided. Violent conflicts are a daily occurrence, and more than one of my ill-destined kin now dwell in the Void as a result. Some of us understand the consequences. Had the Runner's scheme succeeded, it would have meant the end of us all.

“Of course, some of the Brethren are still persuaded the Runner never intended to destroy Earth, and that he only intended to use Legion in order to subjugate humanity. They still honor the alliance brokered by the Runner with Legion, and work to break mankind's will. This rift that divides the Brethren grows wider with each passing day.”

Kiel considered this for a moment, nodding to himself. Maybe this was useful information, after all. He would pass it on to the rest of the Host as soon as this meeting ended.

“This is good news!” said Nathan. “With his own forces divided, the Runner wouldn't chance another attack on the Veils.”

“You would think so, wouldn't you? Even though I adamantly oppose the alliance with Legion, I've gone along like the good little conspirator. I've committed terrible atrocities in order to gather this information. Think of me what you will, but remember that I brought the information to you of my own free will. If and when I'm discovered, my life is forfeit, and trust me when I say that I actually look forward to the day.”

“So very noble of you,” said Nathan in a dry tone. “Get on with it, Orus, and then we'll judge the value, if any, of your sacrifice.”

Orus paused for a moment, and Kiel thought the haughty fallen angel was posturing for effect. He almost said as much when Orus continued, “The threat to this world is much greater than you think. The Runner still intends to destroy mankind, and despite the rift among the Brethren, you may believe he may well have the ability to do so.”

Orus had his full attention now. “Tell us,” said Kiel.

Orus reached for his cup. “Legion has stolen the Lesser Keys of Solomon.”

Stunned, Kiel looked at Nathan, then back at Orus. “How? How could this happen?”