Fallen (26 page)

“My son knows my feelings concerning his
sister,” Tiberius said. “He would not allow Black to do such a
thing.”

“My lord, I do not believe Sinister to be
aware of this heinous crime against our people. However, I saw the
girl imprisoned myself. Black has evidently won some of our people
away from you, Lord Tiberius.”

“What do you mean, Letan?” Tiberius
thundered.

“I barely managed to escape with my life
upon making this terrible discovery,” Tom said. “Some of our
warriors were part of this conspiracy against you.”

Tom was attempting to convey the direness of
the situation without sacrificing its believability. The counselors
could easily believe that Letan would flee for his life rather than
fight. Likewise, they knew that Black was treacherous to deal with.
If Charlotte had managed to make herself a target then the angel
would care nothing for any insult this matter caused Tiberius,
despite their agreement.

Tiberius rose slowly from his heavy wooden
throne. “Letan, you will show me where she is being held,” he said.
“I will go myself and see to this matter. One hundred of our
warriors will accompany us to the mortal world. My brothers, convey
this news only to our elite warriors at this time. However, if this
matter is as Letan reports, we must prepare for war.”

I followed Oliver through the debris strewn
streets of this nameless city conjured from the mind of Southresh,
blasting the undead hordes that he had set upon us. I launched
gouts of flame, morphed into various animal shapes, engaging them
in close combat, even creating multiple images of myself to
distract and confuse them. All were tactics I witnessed Oliver
using. Had it not been for the grave situation we were in, I would
have considered it the greatest training session I could ever
endure.

The sheer number of creatures coming at us
was beyond belief. Had I not already become somewhat familiar with
the fantastic nature of the world in recent days and my
extraordinary place in it, I would certainly have experienced a
heart attack and collapsed on the spot due to sheer terror.

Oliver produced a whirlwind that swept
hundreds of ghouls away. I raised the very street in reply using
Helios’s techniques, sending great chunks of pavement and zombies
scattering into the air. Oliver enveloped more hundreds in terrible
fire, while I brought water gushing from the mains, sweeping the
rotting corpses of Southresh’s soldiers away in a voluminous
tide.

By all appearances we were winning, even
despite the regularity with which more zombies appeared to continue
the attack on us. But Southresh’s patience had finally worn thin.
He would deal with us himself now.

He reduced his size as he took flight, a
great sword of fire appearing in his hand. He bellowed and raged
against us as he barreled down upon our position. He landed in the
street before us, cracking the pavement as he touched down with a
thunderclap, standing twice as tall as a man.

Standing toe to toe with a fallen angel was
worse than anything we had faced so far. Even though the nature of
this prison was such that Southresh could create his environment,
we were still able to utilize our power. Now, everything we threw
at him was nullified by his far greater strength.

A rain of fire left him unscathed. Lightning
he absorbed with little more than a tickle. Water was redirected.
Our illusions dissipated as soon as they were conjured. In every
way, this creature created by the hand of God was superior to our
best efforts.

I considered, only for the briefest moment,
an attempt to transform my person into some mighty animal form and
charge him head on. Stupidity itself. I abandoned the idea quickly
as every attack we mustered failed miserably.

Southresh raised his sword, stalking toward
us. He was growing tired of our feeble efforts, laughing at how
pathetic we were. In seconds, he would strike both of us down with
minimal effort. A scripture came to me from the recesses of my
mind—Jude, verse nine.

I mustered courage and faith, crying out
against the angel as he brought down his fiery blade.

“The Lord rebuke thee!”

His sword fell, clashing with another
ethereal blade of light. The mysterious, nameless angel that had
helped me days ago after my father’s murder stood between us and
Southresh. His heavenly sword moved so quickly that its form
blurred in my vision.

Electrical discharges exploded from their
weapons each time they clashed. Peels of thunderous noise pounded
our ears as these two angels battled for supremacy. However, I
cheered for the one who was clearly going to win. In this contest,
Southresh was already backpedaling against a mightier foe.

Southresh’s fiery blade flew from his hand,
smashing through the wall of nearby building, leveling the
structure with a great explosion. Southresh made a final attempt at
hand to hand combat, but the good angel backhanded him away. Now,
he stood with his sword of light held rigid at Southresh’s exposed
throat. The fallen angel might not be able to die in the sense that
I understood it, but he clearly feared what damage could be done by
this opponent.

The good angel turned on Oliver and me, his
hand outstretched. Before I could thank him, a flash of light
erupted from his palm with this cry. “Seek the Mystic!”

We were yanked away from the world that
Southresh had created for himself in this prison of Tartarus.
Through the void we flew much faster than we had come. A blazing
tunnel of light surrounded us. When it dissipated, we were standing
within a meadow. A forest stood tall and imposing around us.

I did not recognize our surroundings, but
apparently Oliver did.

“He has sent us to the Elder Wood,” he said
happily.

I had no idea what that meant, but I sighed
with relief just to be free from Tartarus.

The angel’s heavenly blade of light hovered
over Southresh’s throat.

“I yield,” Southresh cried. “Do not torment
me further. This place is enough.”

The sword dissolved from the good angel’s
hand.

“Do not ask pity from the one who knows no
pity,” the angel spat.

Southresh looked up at the one who had
beaten him. He had heard that voice before, but the appearance was
wholly different. He stammered, confused.

“Master?” he asked.

The angel of light looked down upon him. A
smirk crossed his lips.

Southresh gathered hope, coming to his
knees. “Master, I don’t understand. Why did you save them from my
wrath?”

The angel of light looked around at the
world of Southresh’s making. He sniffed, not entirely pleased. Then
he looked down at Southresh prostrate before him.

“Enjoy your prison,” he said.

Southresh cried after him, but the angel of
light had already vanished.

We had been walking for an hour before we
finally stopped at a bubbling brook running through the forest.
Oliver looked on while I knelt down to cup its cool water in my
hand and sate my growing thirst.

“That brook marks the boundary of the
elves,” he said.

I stopped sipping the water immediately,
dropping it back into the stream as if a serpent had bitten me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea.”

Oliver chuckled heartily. “I didn’t say it
was forbidden to drink of the water,” he said, kneeling down to
take a drink for himself.

I relaxed then. “Are these Tom’s
people?”

“Elves, yes, but I’m not sure what clan Tom
originated from. There are quite a few.”

We sipped from the stream. The water was
cool and refreshing. We were glad to be out of Tartarus, though
neither of us had actually voiced that feeling. The mood between us
was lighter now, a palpable feeling of relief.

“Where are they?” I asked, wiping my
chin.

“The elves you mean? I’m sure they’re
already watching us. Difficult to spot. They’re quite good at
camouflage.”

We stood there for a moment without saying
anything. Oliver gazed out into the forest ahead, waiting.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” I asked, beginning
to step over the stream to the other side.

Oliver grabbed my arm in an iron grip.
“Wait,” he said.

I stepped back awkwardly, trying to maintain
my balance without falling into the water.

“Patience is not only a virtue, Brody,” he
said. “In the Fae realm it might just save your life.”

Oliver gestured to the opposite bank of the
stream—the place where my foot had nearly come down. A wooden arrow
shaft with black feather fletches quivered slightly where it had
penetrated the earth. I stood still, wondering at how close I had
come to feeling the deadly sting of that arrow.

“We will wait here,” Oliver said. “They’ll
let us know when they are willing to let us cross over.”

He sat down on a nearby stone. A steaming
cup of tea appeared in his hand. Oliver gestured to another stone
near his. I made a gesture of my own, and both stones became wooden
chairs. Oliver chuckled to himself.

“Well, if you’re going to make a picnic of
it,” he said.

A little table appeared between us with a
plate of pastries sitting on a silver serving tray along with
another cup of tea. I picked up the cup and a pastry, taking a
bite.

“Delicious,” I reported. Actually, I was
feeling quite famished after all of our fighting in Tartarus. “But
how long do we have to wait?”

Oliver raised his cup to his lips with a
smirk. “As long as it takes.”

Almost an hour passed before we were given
any indication as to the intentions of the elves. At least the
pastries had been good. I had even conjured a bit of roasted
chicken which I shared with Oliver. We discussed some of our battle
in Tartarus; with Oliver delighting in my progress. He offered some
helpful tips and insights on the general nature of the Fae
realm.

Without fanfare, the brook stopped flowing.
Oliver looked over at it. “Ah,” he said. “It appears we may now
cross over.”

We stood up as I observed the stream. It
looked as though the water had simply been shut off somehow,
leaving a wet stream bed. Our chairs reverted to the rocks they
were before, and the little table with our food and cups
disappeared entirely.

“Is that it?” I asked. “Just the stream
drying up?”

Oliver crossed over. I followed warily,
glancing at the arrow that had been shot my way an hour ago. Once
we stood on the other side, the water flowed along the stream bed
once more.

I turned to find Oliver already well ahead
of me heading through the trees. I jogged a moment to catch up then
kept pace.

“Don’t announce it, but I would like to see
how many of our friends you can spot,” Oliver said.

I scanned the forest as we walked.
Admittedly, at first, I saw nothing but trees, leaves in the wind
and butterflies playing upon the breeze. But then, as I
concentrated, my perception began to change. Human forms were
outlined against the bark of tree trunks, leaves and butterflies
became tiny people with wings—sprites if I knew my mythology.

Squirrels and rabbits scampering at a
distance were actually spies with glamours wrapped about them to
hide their true nature. The world around me became utterly
different—magical—but far more dangerous than at first glance. I
looked sidelong at Oliver. He was wearing a smirk.

“See anything interesting?” he asked.

I simply nodded.

“Good,” he added.

We continued walking until we arrived at a
village hanging among the treetops. I made the effort to reduce my
sight and was rewarded with a view that no longer revealed the
little town in the trees. A little more concentration, and it
appeared to me once more.

“How do we get up there?” I asked.

“The same way any good magician does,”
Oliver said, snapping his fingers.

We disappeared from the forest floor and
reappeared on one of the boardwalks twisting its way through
several massive tree trunks. Before I could even speak, I noticed
half a dozen bows aimed at us. At least three elves held swords to
my throat. Another three had Oliver in the same way. We couldn’t
move without impaling ourselves.

“It would be unwise for either of you to
move, or speak unless I give you permission,” one of the sword
elves said.

We took his advice and waited.

“What is your business here, outlanders?”
the elf asked.

I looked at Oliver. This was his show. I was
only along for the ride.

“We have traveled far in order to seek
council of the Mystic,” Oliver reported.

“No one sees him,” the elf replied, his hand
tightening around the hilt of his sword.

Just then, a runner appeared, carrying a
message. He observed the situation and hurried to the lead elf who
was presently interrogating us. The runner handed the elf the
message which he read. He then glared at us.

“Looks like he’s been expecting you,” the
lead elf said.

He turned and started walking away from us.
The others prodded us, motioning for us to follow him.

A winding path of interwoven branches led us
away from the town in the treetops. This tunnel of sorts appeared
to have grown this way, interlocking vine-like branches so that we
felt secure as we walked along. The elf warriors escorting us kept
their weapons ready to strike us down should we decide to make a
run for it.

We were finally deposited within a temple
that resided inside a great hollow tree. At first, I thought lamps
illuminated the temple’s inner sanctum. However, upon closer
inspection, I realized that this light was given off by peculiar
clusters of bioluminescent mushrooms growing along the walls.