Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) (74 page)

Mikal heard a
shout and saw Doriel out of the corner of his eye. The Dominion had a balrog on
his back, its whip wound about his arms and wings, pinning them to his side. A
drolkul faced them and was drawing back a black scythe, preparing to plunge it
into the Dominion’s chest.

Mikal spun and
hurled a hastily summoned spear at the drolkul, saving Doriel’s life at the
expense of opening himself to an attack by Iblis. He twisted desperately to
avoid the demon’s sword, but Iblis instead swung his shield and seared Mikal’s
left arm, knocking him to the ground. He rolled, but Iblis was just as fast and
followed with a kick that just barely missed Mikal’s face. His emerald wings
wrapped closely about him, Mikal kept rolling, Iblis chasing closely after him.

“Don’t flee,
Mikal,”
Iblis sneered.
“Better this than witness your precious Heaven
crumble to ash when Mephistopheles sits on the Throne of God.”

The demon prince
stayed with Mikal and threw streams of flame that scorched and burned the
Seraph, who barely withheld a scream of pain as Iblis’s flame clung to him and
began to break down his
āyus
. Their prolonged battle had weakened
him and the demon’s direct hits were now beginning to finish him off. In
desperation, Mikal looked for the Philion, hoping the healing waters might help
stave off destruction. The waters of Heaven gleamed like a promise… one too far
away for him to reach. Iblis was too close, his attacks too much for the
rapidly fading Seraph.

“You’ve
failed, Mikal,”
Iblis taunted him, sending another wave of fire after him.
“All
your efforts, all your powers, all your tricks, all for naught. Where you kill
one of us, a thousand more take its place. Where you create a mountain, we tear
it down. Where you move a river, we corrupt the land and drive it away.”

“You know,
Iblis,”
Mikal replied, closing his eyes and gathering his remaining
strength,
“that is a brilliant idea.”

With a wrench of
his will, Mikal bent the Philion and brought the River of Love immediately
below him, plunging him into the healing waters and extinguishing the flames
wrapped about him. Iblis was too close, the change too sudden, and the fiery
demon prince followed Mikal down into the water with a scream that drowned out
even the furious hiss of black steam that erupted from his impact with the
Heavenly water.

Under the
river’s surface, Mikal slowly opened his eyes and watched Iblis’s writhing
flames blazing only a few feet away. Rather than confront the demon, Mikal
fanned his wings and moved to the edge of the river to lay down on the bank. He
watched without expression as Iblis was slowly destroyed by the river, which
still boiled and steamed around the demon prince.

And then Mikal
witnessed the impossible. One instant Iblis was trapped below the surface of
the Philion, his
āyus
on the verge of being extinguished along with
his fiery flesh, and the next the demon had vanished completely. Water rushed
to fill the spot where he’d been moments before, and the steam immediately
dissipated without the demon’s incendiary presence.

“He could not
have translocated,” Mikal said wearily to himself in disbelief. “It’s
impossible, not from within the river.”

So focused was
he on Iblis’s miraculous disappearance, he didn’t see a flight of gremlins
streaking toward him, hoping to take advantage of his weakened state. Too late,
Mikal looked up and saw gleaming ebony talons that slashed into his flesh and
tore at his wings. He raised his sword and slashed ineffectively at the demons,
which darted about in the air and easily evaded his exhausted efforts to defend
himself.

Just then, a
young human clad in thick leather armor launched himself from a nearby
outcropping of stone and crashed into the flying demons, dragging several down
to the ground and hurling them into the Philion. The thickly muscled mortal
stood over Mikal and beat back the encroaching demons, which quickly regrouped
to face this new threat. However brave he might be, the man was obviously not a
paladin and would have limited success against the flying demons.

Still, he held
them off long enough that Mikal was able to gather a measure of his strength
and lend his own sword, and he stood to put his back to the human’s. The demons
screeched at the thought of such prey escaping them, and they immediately
swarmed down to attack.

“Now, ‘Nolla!”
the mortal shouted, and a spray of water shot forth from the stone outcropping,
dousing the demons with the waters of the Philion. The gremlins screamed in
pain and broke away, but some were so doused with the Heavenly water they
crashed to the ground and struggled weakly against destruction that clung to
their flesh and ate away at their being.

In a moment, the
air was clear and Mikal and the unknown human were safe. Mikal slumped to the
ground and allowed the healing waters of the Philion to wash over his lower
half. He quickly drew strength from the river, enough so that his own
āyus
was no longer in danger. Time and further healing would restore him, but for
the moment Mikal was relieved that he still existed.

He allowed the
young mortal to help him to his feet. Mikal stretched his wings and ruffled his
feathers in agitation, but he was too weak to do much more than that.

“What’s your
name, human?” he asked.

“Bradley, sir.
Bradley jo’Garet,” the human replied. “That’s my twin sister, Anolla, up
there.” A young female human jumped down, part of a sprayer still in her hands.
Her smile radiated from her like a beacon of youthful exuberance.

The angel
smiled. “I might have known. Well, Bradley jo’Garet, you just saved me from a rather
embarrassing fate. History might think less of a Seraph who was brought down by
a group of mere gremlins.”

Mikal stared at
the Philion and searched for some sign of Iblis, but the demon prince had
vanished without a trace. He would have felt it had the demon prince been
destroyed.

Hariel and
Doriel flew down and landed next to Mikal and the mortal twins.

“Mikal, the
demons are in full retreat,” Doriel reported with a smile. Hariel was as
somber-faced as any Power, and she quickly glanced at Mikal’s wounds as though
verifying the Seraph wasn’t about to expire before their eyes.

“Doriel, harry
them as you see fit, but do not take any risks,” Mikal told the Dominion.
“We’ve won this fight, but there are many more to come, and we’re going to need
every angel and moral we can keep alive.”

The two angels
flew off, and Mikal turned to Bradley and Anolla, who stood silently waiting
for him.

“Come, young
mortals,” Mikal said with a tired smile, “I’m sure your father will be as
pleased to hear of your valiant rescue as I will be to tell him.”

Why do we always feel there is too much or too little
time? Why is there never just enough?

- Trames,

“O Musings” (976 AM)

- 1 -

The poisonous
taint of the demons was now visible on half of the surrounding horizon. Gray
filth polluted the once pristine surface of Heaven, and some reports even said
that some angelstone had succumbed to the demons’ presence. Heavenly crystal
from the tainted lands no longer broke neatly into evenly faceted chunks, but
rather shattered into amorphous shards that were as twisted and revolting as
the taint that infected them. So far the waters of the rivers had gone
unpolluted, but many wondered if it was only a matter of time.

High atop the
tallest tower in Medina – directly over the Hall of the Throne – two Seraphim
stood and surveyed the encroaching foulness with grim foreboding.

“It’s been
nearly two months since they crossed,” Uriel said. Mikal nodded. “We have no
way of knowing if they’re even still alive. No contact at all.”

“We have to hold
for as long as possible,” Mikal said. “We need to give them time.”

“How much more
can we give them?” Uriel asked incredulously. “Have you looked at the sky,
Mikal? The demons will be at our walls in a week, two at the most. Once they
reach Medina, there’s no telling how long it will take for them to break
through and take the Hall.”

“Then we give
Birch those two weeks and however many days more we can squeeze from our
defense here,” the other Seraph replied. “I remember Mephistopheles from the
old days, and he will not have changed much. He is impatient, and that will
push Malith to take the city as quickly as he can. He’ll make mistakes, and
we’ll slow him down.”

“He can
afford
to make mistakes,” Uriel countered. “He outnumbers us at least five-to-one.
Much of that is damned souls, but still, the odds are nothing short of
staggering. And there must still be countless more demons and damned souls in
Hell he can call on, should it become necessary.”

Mikal stared at
the gloomy horizon and closed his eyes slowly. The faint saffron tint of his
flesh seemed to glow in soft pulsations as he considered.

“Then we make it
as hard as possible for them to come anywhere near Medina,” he said finally,
“at least not without getting their feet wet.”

Uriel stared at
him in shock.

“You’re not
seriously suggesting…”

“I am,” Mikal
said fiercely. “We flood the city. I’ll raise the surrounding land to create a
bowl and redirect the Philion to fill it, and any damage it incurs be damned.
I’d pull down every building myself if I thought it would protect the Throne in
some way. Gather whomever you need and seal the library, but don’t waste time
on anything else, not even the Hall of the Throne. We can rebuild the entire
city if need be, but not if we don’t survive.”

He opened his
eyes and glared at Uriel. “I don’t like it any better than you, Uriel, but the
rivers are still our best defense as long as they remain inimical to the
demons. I’ll never be able to submerge the whole city, and this is a delaying
tactic at best. Eventually they’ll figure out a way to drain the waters or
corrupt them, I’m sure, but even that will buy us time while they puzzle
through it. In the meantime, Dem relocated his forges here, and he’s been
working on weapons and more of those gnomish pumps. We have hundreds of them
now and will have more by the time we need them.

“We flood the
city and station pumping crews about the city with flights of angels to keep
them safe,” Mikal told him. “I want the Archangels airborne every instant
helping wherever you’re needed the most. Whole companies of the blessed dead
have practiced underwater maneuvers, thanks to the trap we laid, so I want them
prowling the bottom of our new lake and attacking from below while you attack
from above. The demons can’t follow their retreat into the water, so there’s no
need for standup fights. Hit-and-run across the entire city on such a scale as
those Hellish beasts have never dreamed.

“We haven’t lost
very many of those paladins who recently crossed over to help us, and they all
have dakkans. Take them airborne and unleash them under Garet’s command. He
best understands the aerial tactics of his brethren, and he’s proved more than
capable thus far. God as my witness, we’ll attack these monsters from land,
sea, and air, and we will hold them for a whole
year
if we must to give
Birch and the others the time they need.”

Uriel stared in
amazement at the passion in Mikal’s words. The emerald-winged Seraph was normally
more reserved and even-tempered, and it was easy to forget the strength of the
fire that burned within him.

“I have every
faith in Birch to free Kaelus, and in them both when they face the demon king
himself,” Mikal said. “I’d hate to have them return triumphant only to find
Medina in rubble and a demon prince sitting on the Throne.”

Uriel studied
Mikal’s face a moment longer, then he grinned. “I won’t let it happen if you
won’t,” he said. He saluted and spread his wings to fly away.

Then he paused
and peered over his shoulder.

“What will you
do while I’m passing the orders?” he asked his old friend.

Mikal closed his
eyes and knelt on one knee.

“Pray.”

- 2 -

Despite the
general feeling of rest and energy, the combined army of paladins, elves, and
denarae had to wait three days before they could safely leave the Grove of
Holiness. The demons prowled the area, incessantly searching for their escaped
quarry. Birch had been correct in that the demons couldn’t even see the Grove,
so as long as they stayed within the confines of the trees, scouts could track
the demons’ movements to ensure they were long gone before the expedition moved
out.

After that, time
dragged by even more slowly than before, this time punctuated by the occasional
rush of adrenaline as they worked to avoid the occasional demon patrol. As the
only dakkan present, Selti stayed airborne whenever possible in the shape of a
small animal to spot the demons at a distance, and Birch exerted extra effort
to speed them around any areas where fiends lurked. Only once did they have to
stop and fight a small pocket of fast-moving imps. They took the demons by
surprise and slaughtered them within minutes. Selti brought down the last two
who tried to fly away to raise the alarm. It was hoped that the battle had been
so fast that a definite message hadn’t gotten out. All the same, they left the
area as quickly as possible.

Another week
passed, then another. The terrain they covered ranged from desiccated desert to
snow-swept plains – they struggled to endure blistering snowstorms one day, and
the next there was nothing in sight except the cracked earth under their feet
and the molten sky overhead.

Still another
week had passed before Birch announced they had reached their next destination.