Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) (82 page)

“I’ll take
the insane charge, but kindly leave out stupid,”
Flasch thought to them.
Finally he was visible again, and at the same instant Trebor saw Flasch’s
violet cloak, he saw a daemelan reared back and already swinging a massive
sword at him. Trebor tried to warn his friend, but he’d seen him too late and
the demon was too fast.

“There are
some things…”

“Flasch…!”

“…even I
won’t d…”

Flasch’s mental
voice cut off as the demon’s sword caught him on his right hip and sent him
flying through the air. Agony carried through Trebor’s mental link with the
Violet paladin, but it wasn’t until the sensation of pain abruptly vanished
from his mind that Trebor cried out in despair.

- 5 -

Victory was
close – within sight! – and yet still too far away for Molekh’s liking. The
Hall of the Throne was just visible at the edge of his vision, but between the
demon lord and his target stood the combined might of the Heavenly Hosts, a
small army of paladins, and a lake of holy water teeming with dead souls.

Too many of
Molekh’s forces had been lost for him to attempt an all-out charge on their
goal, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before Mephistopheles
contacted him and ordered a status update. He hadn’t heard from the demon king
since before the battle had started the previous day, and there had been no
word at all since Malith’s sudden departure. Molekh might have been concerned,
but he knew all too well the power Mephistopheles had at his command, to say
nothing of the strength of the daemelans that protected him.

Whatever had
prompted him to recall Malith, the bull-demon was unconcerned and even grateful
for the chance at glory. Molekh was, indeed, the last demon lord or prince
present on the battlefield – Lotan and Nekushtan had abandoned the army, just
like the traitor Azazel had said. Molekh had turned over the demon prince’s
words to him, but had been unable to decipher what Azazel had been after. Their
rightful
master? A power greater than Mephistopheles’s? Impossible that
they would not know of its existence.

No, Molekh was
convinced he’d made the right decision. He bowed to no one, least of all some
phantom power of Azazel’s.

A balrog drifted
to the ground and knelt before Molekh.

“Great lord, all
units are in position for the assault,” the balrog reported, his horned head
bowed low. “They await only your order before attacking.”

“Pour the
Hellfire,” Molekh ordered. “Advance on my word only.”

The balrog sped
off to pass the message.

Large vats of
Hellfire had been brought forward, and now drolkuls used their superior
strength to tip the black-steel containers and spill out their infernal
contents. Demons were ready with long, metal chutes to channel the burning
liquid, which they guided and poured into the lake of holy water.

The meeting of
the two liquids created a vicious hissing sound and produced a thick wall of
billowing black steam, which effectively hid Molekh’s army from sight. Imps and
gremlins stationed themselves behind the resulting cloud and beat their wings
to push the hazy black steam forward. It only took a little bit of Hellfire to
create a pillar of ebony steam, so he cautioned the pouring teams to ration
their supplies. They only had so much Hellfire on-hand to use.

When he judged
the smokescreen was thick enough, Molekh passed the order to advance. Demons
moved forward cautiously, while the Hellfire teams slowly kept pace and poured
more of their precious cargo into the lake. The black cloud moved with them,
hampering the pinpoint accuracy of the angels as arrows began to sail into
Molekh’s army. Instead of every arrow striking a critical spot, now many only
managed to nick a demon’s shoulder or leg, and several even missed entirely.

With one
advantage nullified, Molekh signaled for crews of demons to topple more
buildings to give the army more room to maneuver. Under the cover of black
clouds, flocks of imps and gremlins surged forward and literally tore several
buildings to pieces. When an army of blessed souls rushed forward to attack
Molekh’s advance platoons, more imps flew in and poured small buckets of
Hellfire down on the mortals below, causing havoc in their ranks as they turned
into screaming pillars of flame. The blazing mortals hurried into the holy
waters, which only served to create more black steam to help Molekh’s army.

A flight of
paladins on dakkans swept down from the clouds and decimated one of Molekh’s
aerial companies, but he shrugged off the losses. Most of those killed were
damned souls anyway. He detailed another company wielding cursed crossbows to
cut them out of the sky, and the imps gleefully shot friend and foe alike as
they rained death on the paladins.

The Beast moved
ponderously closer and snatched up several paladins who weren’t quick enough to
evade the grasping tentacles. Showers of blood fell on the demons below as the
Beast squeezed each mortal into a shapeless pulp.

On the ground,
Molekh gave the order for a platoon of childris to advance. The insectoid
demons were a strong asset on the ground, one which he had largely saved for just
this moment. When Heaven’s defenders would be at their weakest and most tired,
the childris would charge into their ranks with lightning speed and cut them to
shreds. Molekh almost wished he could be there firsthand to witness the carnage
they would create.

He bellowed in
laughter and saw tiny tongues of flame leap from his bovine lips. Molekh would
be standing in the Hall within hours, and Heaven would fall at last.

- 6 -

Birch stood
woodenly between the demon king and Kaelus, who had not moved since the two
paladins had entered the room. He felt Mephistopheles’s power crushing down on
him like a fist, forcing him to physically submit to what his will would never
allow. The demon was controlling Birch’s body now, but not his mind.

God!
Birch pleaded.
Help me! I need you now as never before. Give me the strength
to fight him – to resist! I trust you, Lord, and I know you will not let me
fail.

Even as he
prayed in desperation, Birch was assailed by doubts. Why was there no response?
No sign from God? Birch had always been loyal to God, to whom he’d pledged his
life, even going so far as to denying himself the one thing he wanted above all
else because he felt it conflicted with his duty to God. How could God not come
to help him now, when he so desperately needed the divine strength?

No! God has
led me here and placed His trust in me. I am not a child to expect my father to
swoop in and save me from a bully. I will trust.

He took another
step.

How did
Trames resist?
Birch practically screamed in his mind as he took another
step toward Mephistopheles.
God, lend me the strength!

He took another
step and, despite the silent scream of anguish and resistance trapped within
him, Birch started to kneel. The steel of his armor clanked as his limbs jerked
into motion. He stared fixedly at the ground, willing it to repel him.

“Kneel, mortal,”
Mephistopheles hissed in malicious delight. “Kneel before me.”

Birch’s right
knee touched the ground and his hands curled into fists as he placed his
knuckles on the bone floor. Every fiber of his body howled in defiance and
strained against Mephistopheles’s power, but he was unable to so much as blink
without the demon king’s power allowing it.

He knelt in
silence for a minute, then for another as Mephistopheles stared down at him in
pleasure.

“Now, mortal,”
the demon king whispered, and a suppressed shiver rippled through Birch’s body,
“look into my eyes and know true despair. I shall show you my mercy. I will not
torture you right away, as I once thought to. I can hold you like this for
eternity, trapped in a show of submission that will last until time itself
crumbles and dissolves into the nether. Look into my eyes and see the fate of
eternal acquiescence.
Your
fate.”

Birch’s head
lifted, and his burning gaze turned to the enthroned King of Hell.

Their eyes
locked.

Immediately,
Birch felt himself caught up in a whirlwind contest of wills as he reacted
instinctively and fought back against the strength of Mephistopheles’s
āyus
.
The demon that had become a part of Birch battled against the demon king –
he
,
Birch, battled the demon king in a contest he’d never before experienced
directly. He’d felt it once as a periphery effect when Kaelus had been within
him, but that was a pale shade compared to the force of a direct, hostile confrontation.

Shaishisii
.

The contest of
immortal will and
āyus
raged between them, and it was with a
profound sense of shock that Birch realized he was holding his own against the
King of Hell.
How?!?
Mephistopheles had been the most powerful demon in
existence since the dawn of time, and he’d only grown stronger since then. How
was it that the fledgling demon within Birch, who had only been genesed a
handful of months ago, was standing up to the lord of all demons?

In that moment,
Birch realized the truth about the demonic essence within him and was forced to
admit what he’d resisted all along. Something Perklet had tried to tell him.
The
āyus
was part of Birch, not something dwelling within him as
Kaelus had been. There was no fledgling demon, there was only Birch himself,
now part demon, and it was
Birch
who was defying the demon king’s power
and standing firm against him.

I already
have the strength I need,
Birch thought resolutely.
God has already
provided the means. Now it’s up to me to use it.

Mephistopheles
glared at Birch with a look of pure hatred tinged with confusion and even a
trace of fear. The demon king had obviously not been expecting such a contest,
not with a mere mortal, and he never would have conceived that it would be such
a struggle. None had stood directly against him since the days of the Great
Schism.

The two demonic
āyus
battled incessantly, each striving to conquer the other to gain dominance and
control. Birch wondered how Danner would fare, since his angelic
āyus
was holy against the evil of Mephistopheles’s accursed
āyus
– would
it help or hinder him? Given the choice, Birch would still pit himself against
the demon king, if only to spare his nephew.

His thoughts
sparked.

Choice.

That ability
to choose is the greatest power a mortal or immortal creature can ever have. It
gives you power over your self and can give you power over others.

The words came
back to Birch and burned across his mind as though written in Hellfire.
That
was the answer.
That
was how he stood against the demon king – why his
immortal
āyus
was as strong as the most powerful demon in
existence.

Free will.
Choice. Good. Evil. Absolute.

I am. I am. I
am.

Birch felt the beating
pulse of a greater existence throbbing through him, and for the first time
began to truly understand the path of choice Perklet had tried to show him. He
stopped
trying
to understand the concept of the Absolute, and suddenly
it made sense to him. He ceased trying to narrow and focus his mind and instead
acknowledged that the truly infinite existence, the Absolute, was both
impossibly complex and yet perfectly simple at the same time. It was paradox,
existence and non-existence combined. The source and the end of all things at
every instant of infinity. It simply
was
.

Good and Evil.
They were one and the same, indistinguishable from one another while part of
the Absolute. A single thought – if it could be called such – by the Absolute
had created the two polar opposites, and as opposites they could not co-exist.
The entire universe came into being for the sole purpose of giving the two
ethical opposites a place to exist apart from each other, perhaps while the
Absolute idly mused on the meaning of morality.

God and Satan
came into being as manifestations of the two, less than the Absolute but
infinitely greater than anything that would follow. From the two divine
entities sprang the first immortals, again somewhat less than their progenitors
but greater than what would eventually spring from them in turn.

Mortals. Life.
The point in existence where Good and Evil came full circle and rejoined, but
still not perfectly coexistent. The resulting creatures – living, sentient
mortals – had to have the ability to choose between them at every instant of
their existence, holding both potentials within them but always holding them
apart through choice. The means of that choice was the freedom to
make
that choice.

I am. I am. I
am.

Absolute. Evil.
Good. Choice. Free will.

Birch’s eyes
blazed with hellish flames and Mephistopheles was hurled back as though struck
by the fist of God Himself. The steel throne toppled to the ground and slid
down from atop the bone dais, leaving the demon king stranded in disbelief and
sudden fear.

Daella
disappeared momentarily and reappeared close to where Danner stood, now
corporeal as a beautiful woman clad in form-fitting armor and armed with an
array of blades. Her human appearance was marred by a pair of short horns and
small leather wings. She reached forward as though to hold a knife to his
throat, but recoiled as Danner sucked in a deep breath and jerked into motion.
Suddenly freed of the demon king’s power, Danner’s sword leapt to parry a wild
lunge from the demoness, and he immediately turned the attack back on her.
Daella hissed at him and attacked again, this time with more deliberate skill,
but Danner was able to hold her at bay.