The Sword of Michael - eARC (26 page)

Everyone except for me.

“I cannot Bind a Sword Bearer, Marius. But I can certainly bind everything you hold dear and love in the world,” Lucifer said.

“And I can call on the Light of the Creator here,” I said. “I hold the Sword.”

“Yes,” Lucifer said. “You can. You *may* be able to unbind them. Perhaps you should try?”

Otto strained against his chains, throwing his head violently from side to side in a silent no. I looked at them, the metal that held the chains and manacles together…the same metal that held Lucifer in place.

“Oh, I think you see the dilemma,” Lucifer said. “Are you thinking that if you unbind them…you might unbind me? Certainly a possibility. Though of course, then you’d have your allies and your woman. And the Sword. Shall we see?”

Otto struggled to Hitler’s amusement. Hitler saw me looking, and rattled the chain that held Jolene. I heard a hiss from the Shield on my back.

“Yes,” Lucifer said. “With both of them, you may be able to repair her. After a fashion. Though I don’t think you can do it here. You’d have to be elsewhere. Out of my Dominion. And you, of course, can go. But these others…they’d have to stay here. Much like Persephone and Hades, yes? Except all your beloveds will be in the one place where you can guarantee that they will endure undying torment till the end of days.”

Lucifer laughed, a peal of a gigantic bell.

“Shall we try the unbinding, shaman? Think of the story you will be able to tell. How you went to Hell and unbound Lucifer. I’d let you tell that tale, though you’d probably have to fictionalize it a bit. Maybe as an urban fantasy, that’s what they call it these days, yes? And of course, the world might change a bit…what say you? Shall we give it a go?”

“No,” I said. “I think not. I think I will contest with you, Lucifer. Because you are the Father of Lies, Lies in all things. If it’s true that I can unbind you, perhaps I can add to your binding. Or perhaps the Sword has other plans for you. Maybe this is your ending. What do you see, Fallen?” I held up the Sword, pulsing with blue light. “I see the Light of MIIIII-KAIIII-ELLLL!”

Lucifer screamed. Hitler fell to his knees and clapped his hands over his ears. The entire chamber shook and rocked; dust settled around us, and there was a huge clap as though of thunder. Lucifer tried to raise his manacled hands to his own ears, but the chains were too short.

“AAAAHHHHHH” Lucifer screamed, his torment echoing in the chamber.

I rushed to Otto, raised the Sword and slashed down on his chains. Sparks flew, but the metal was untouched. I tried it with Tigre. The same. I turned and went to Hitler, who cowered down in the fetal position, his hands pressed tight over his ears. I struck at the chain that bound Jolene.

Nothing.

For a long moment, Lucifer twisted against his chains. Then he opened his eyes.

“So now you know a little more,” he said calmly, as though nothing had happened. “The contest is not over. You must fight my Champion. If you win, you take your woman and your allies and you will leave. If you do not, you, the Sword, and your allies remain here forever. Except for one. I will release one to return to the Middle World, so that what happened here will be known to all. To all, Marius. You will serve as the object lesson to those who trifle with me and mine. And that one will bear witness. Do you understand?”

“I think you have the talking part done, Lucifer. Arm your lackey. He’ll need more than his sharp uniform and little mustache,” I said.

I was looking forward to kicking the shit out of Adolf Hitler. Seemed to me I might have missed that in a previous lifetime.

Loud peals of laughter, and Lucifer didn’t even try to hide the malicious humor in it. “You are such a fool, Marius. Such a tool. Your ego is such that you see yourself as an instrument in the Hand of the Creator…you are a tool for any who can get to you. You think the Creator has use for such a blunt instrument? I think not. I call forward my Champion to crush you. Now.”

I turned and faced Hitler. “You like movies, Adolf? Ever see that masterpiece
The Unforgiven
, directed by the one and only Clint Eastwood? Great line in there: “He should have armed himself, he’s gonna decorate his saloon with my friend.” So I’ll paraphrase Clint, Adolf, though I dislike mentioning you and him in the same breath: best arm yourself if you’re gonna decorate this chamber with my friends.”

Adolf leered at me, orclike in his glee. “Oh, I’ll see you crushed, vain mortal. I’ll see you ripped to pieces while you watch me rip your little toy here…” he rattled the chain. “And I’ll see you stripped of that Sword.”

I tipped the Sword and stepped to him. “You’re not much of a Champion, Adolf.”

“He’s not the Champion,” Otto said.

I spun on my heel, backing to keep Adolf in my peripheral vision while I looked back.

Otto’s chains were gone. His mouth had returned. His recent scars vanished. And he had grown to the size of your standard Demi-Demon. Satan’s Sword was held firmly in his hand. The shredded clothing he’d worn had disappeared to be replaced by what looked like a gladiator’s loincloth, bound at the waist with a golden belt that looked like the Ouroboros.

“Otto?” I said.

His eyes were still human. Sad and trapped. But determined.

“Yes, my friend,” he said heavily. “I am Lucifer’s Champion.”

Chapter 32

“Otto! No!” I said.

My other allies strained at their chains, helpless in Lucifer’s Dominion.

“I’m sorry, Marius,” Otto said.

“How is this?” I said.

Hitler laughed. “What a fool you are, Winter. You’ll have all eternity to ponder that question.”

“You fought beside me, you saved my life and my soul, Otto,” I said. “How is this?”

Lucifer laughed and laughed. “Pride goeth before the Fall, as was written, little shaman. Welcome to your undoing, your binding, and the celebration of my unbinding.”

I raised the Sword. “I think not, Fallen. Otto?”

“He is a Betrayer,” Lucifer said. “He always Betrays. It is his purpose, his method, his reason for being. He betrayed Hitler, he betrayed me, ultimately he betrays all who trust him. And he is so, so trustworthy, is he not? Trustworthy enough for you, to be at your side, to make sure that Sword made it all the way down here, past all the Guardians, past all the Trials, to be sure that it arrived safely…here. Right here. Where I called it and where I need it.”

Laughter, demonic beyond demonic.

“How else to get a Sword Bearer here? Were you more experienced, you would have known how to use the Power of the Sword to fetch your little wench back, but no, you always go for the drama, don’t you, Marius? Something about the romantic appeal of storming into hell with your allies, like the Rangers at Normandy, or the Charge of the Light Brigade, or Mad Dog Shriver’s last stand…so you had to bring it here, all the way here, where I can call upon it…once your dead fingers are pried from it…to unbind me and mine. So that we may return in triumph to the Middle World, pour out of the portals to reclaim all that is rightfully ours, and to do so long before my Brother realizes it. Possession is nine tenths of the Law, yes?”

Demonic laughter.

“So to speak,” Lucifer said. “So to speak. So. Champion. Shall I tell them of your seduction? How you were seduced? Or would you like to tell it? I might enjoy hearing you relate the details of your downfall—pride, fear, love of a woman, love of children…all the good things that make up a good man, turned and corrupted—you are one of my finest pieces of work, Otto Skorzeny. Courage turned and twisted…so brave in facing me, so craven in your downfall…but like someone else said, It’s all biology for those of you born into the meat. And you are all meat on my table…”

Demonic laughter, deep into the marrow of my bones.

“What say you, Champion? Would you like to explain to your friend, your friend of many lifetimes? Did you know that, Marius? Otto here was your lieutenant in the Guardians of the Faith, you oh-so-elite in the Service of the Light, in Atlantis…he ran with you, beside you, without question, to your death…and his. Life after life, the two of you met and partnered, faced death down together, saved so many lives…and always the seed of resentment, the hatred well hidden that leads to betrayal, deep in Otto’s heart. You’re always so blind to those you choose to befriend, Marius—you overlook what it’s like to be in your shadow always, to be the second banana (an appropriate metaphor for an reasonably intelligent ape) to you—to watch you save the day and sail away with the fair maiden…each and every time.”

Lucifer reached as though to stroke his chin, came short because of the chains.

“Perhaps not this time,” he said. “Perhaps Otto will walk away with a reward. Otto? Would you like the woman? A bit damaged goods, I’m afraid, but perhaps you can put her right. So to speak. Would you?”

Otto trembled. Was silent. Could not meet my eye.

“Ah,” Lucifer said. “The humiliation of the strong made slave. Something he should be used to by now. You would think wouldn’t you? How about you, Marius? Are you ready to be made slave? I have so much you could do around the place…”

Otto.

I raised the Sword. “He’ll be freed either way, Lucifer. You cannot bind the Sword. Nor me. Not while I draw breath and the Sword has Light.”

I advanced on Otto. “I’m sorry, my friend.”

“As am I,” Otto said. “I am so sorry. No matter. If it is meant for me to win this day, I will see Jolene released and returned. I swear this.”

“Be silent, slave,” Lucifer said. “You can promise nothing. Do as you are told.”

“You *promised* me!” Otto shouted. “And I hold you to that!”

Lucifer smiled and licked his lips as though savoring a particularly tasty treat. “Oh, well, there is that. First you must defeat the Sword Bearer…Champion. And of course you’ll have your reward. I promise.”

Hatred and rage in Otto’s eyes. His scar pulsed with his heart beat. He turned towards me, raised his sword in the classic salute. “On guard, my friend. May this unfold as it is meant to.”

I raised my Sword and he lunged forward. I parried in fourth and ducked aside wishing for an additional foot on the end of my blade—which immediately appeared.

“That’s a useful attribute,” I said.

And I prayed silently that the hand of Michael guide his Sword as I crossed blades with Lucifer’s Champion, my friend and ally, Otto Skorzeny.

And our blades went snicker snack, snicker snack. Lunge, riposte, beat, parry, cut, back to the garde, repeat as needed; Otto was by far the more experienced fencer, and the blade of Satan had an energy of it’s own, the red fire against the blue light, but my hand was guided by something, Some One, much larger than myself, whose wisdom and guidance and experience and love flowed through me, quenching the rage that had roiled in my heart, rage at the twisting of a good man what was that story and how had they done that and how could I have missed this and tortured those I loved most and the lesson was seared into my soul, the only way to defeat the Dark Forces was to keep Love and Light in one’s heart always, to move through the rage and the anger to the still white calm space within, where a Hand much greater than ours would wield the weapon without passion, without hatred, without anger and as the blades whirled around us, a ring of steel, a mesh of razor edges and needle points it was as though there were a movie overlaid over us, images of lives past
Otto giving a briefing in his Wehrmacht uniform, me in an American paratrooper uniform listening intently
the edges bound as he beat the blade and lunged at my face, narrowly missing it as I ducked and back cut at his hand
the two of us beneath the Eagle of an Imperial Legion, marching through the hinterlands of the Empire
and Otto enraged, hammering with both hands like an axe down on my upraised Sword, for I would not bring the Shield into play despite Jolene’s pleadings
the two of us in frontiersman’s garb, accompanied by an Indian warrior band, stealthing alongside a red-clad British detachment,
somewhere in the American wilderness
and an unexpected kick to the chest, not enough that he be good with the steel but deadly with the integration of blade and hand and foot at close quarters, far better than me, Marius, but it wasn’t me, Marius, in this fight it was the
two of us in vinyasas, speeding over the land, and raining fire down on the assembled troops on the plains below us…

“MIIII-KAIIII-ELLLL!” I shouted.

The Sword gleamed with blue fire and hammered on Satan’s blade, knocking Otto to his knees. I returned his kick with one of my own, straight under his blade and into his chest, knocking him back, stumbling and tripping—and then I held, my blade high.

“Otto! Fight him…” I said.

He scrambled back to his feet. “I cannot. I cannot. He holds what I hold dear. As he does with you. I’m sorry, Marius…”

He charged me, changing his fencing style to a whirling scythe like approach of figure eights, hacking and hacking at me. I couldn’t meet that, ducked to one side, slapped at his blade and thrust into his side, felt the Sword cut into meat, searing with blue light.

“Aahhh!” Otto shouted. He slashed, bashed the Sword away, slashed at my inner arm, nicking me and drawing red blood, human blood, that ran down my arm and spattered across the black floor. My wound closed and, for a moment, a part of me exulted that man, I was *just* like Wolverine.

Never get cocky when you’re fighting the Champion of Belial, especially when it’s Otto Skorzeny, one of the modern masters of special operations and deception.

He hesitated as though injured far worse than he was, and then back cut impossibly fast with his edge. I ducked back, lunged forward, watched him dance back and beat my blade down and come in the high line, aiming for my collarbone with a lunge designed to pierce my subclavian artery. I felt the tip touch me, stumbled back, and fell.

Flat on my ass.

Otto didn’t hesitate. He stamped in and pressed the tip of Satan’s Sword directly against my neck; the length of it gleamed with fire barely contained, lit his eyes with red highlights.

Pinned.

Me, that is.

“Otto,” I said. “Fight him. Fight it down. You can do this…of anyone, only you…you can do this.”

He stared at me.

Lucifer/Belial’s laughter pealed throughout the chamber. “Oh, how elegant! My Champion, pinning my Brother’s Champion, and the appeal to his Higher Nature…how perfect! Marius, you missed your calling…you should have been an author of penny romances, a writer of soap operas, something of that sort…how dramatic! Is this the denouement? Do tell!”

“Otto,” I said. “You must do this. Only you can. Together, we can find those he holds…we can free them…but you must be the one who fights free, I cannot do it for you…”

“Why!” Otto shouted. “Why? You help everyone else, why not me? Why can you not do it for me?”

“Free will, brother,” I whispered. “You must choose, or unchoose. I cannot do it for you.”

His hands trembled. His face was drawn in the fierce Teutonic visage of the Odinic warrior. Ready to thrust.

“I’m sorry, Marius. It is my nature. I have to…”

I knocked his sword aside and rolled clear, came up with the Sword ready. “No worries, Otto. I know what it’s like to be a slave to my nature.”

There was no hesitation, for the Sword had a mind and a life of its own. Steady pressure, constantly banging and cutting pressing Otto back all the way to the dais, his back pressed against the metal and I lunged and when he ducked his head, as I knew he would, I flipped the blade and slapped him hard with the flat, stunning him for just long enough for me to round kick his knee and yank him to the ground, lever the Sword of Satan out of his hand and now we were reversed. He was pinned, and I held my Sword and his, one to his neck and one to his chest.

“It’s one of the Great Lies, Otto,” I said. “The Lies of Belial, Lucifer, Father of Lies. The Lie that you can never undo the Covenant he forces on you. That the contract is irrevocable. That’s the Lie, Otto. He cannot bind you. He tries. But he cannot. What he holds of you can be released. Can be set free. And you can be the instrument of your own Freedom. Remember when you entered my house, Otto? I asked you. And you said you were of the Light. You would not have been able to enter were you not. The Light of the Son of the Light that is Lucifer is Dark. And you are not. You are of the Light.”

I leaned on the blade and stared him right in the eye. “Choose.”

“I cannot. I cannot,” Otto choked out.

I waited. I stared. Even Lucifer was silent.

“Yes,” I said. “I see that you cannot. And I cannot make that choice for you. So I must take your life.”

“Yes,” Otto said. “You must. I am sorry, Marius.”

“So am I, Otto.”

I leaned on the blade.

Then lifted it and stepped back. “Get up.”

“What? You cannot, Marius! You must finish me!”

“Ah, I don’t think so. Get up.”

Otto scrambled to his feet.

Lucifer bellowed. “FINISH HIM!”

“You don’t give me orders, Lucy.” I handed Otto the Sword of Satan.

“We can either go on with this or you can join me, Otto. Together, we can do this.”

He held the Sword, looked up at Lucifer looming above him.

“Remember who I hold!” Lucifer-Belial shouted.

“I do,” Otto said. He turned to me. “I choose the Light of the One.”

“That’s all I needed to hear, brother,” I said.

I raised the Sword. “I call upon the full Power of the Mighty General of the Lord’s Host, I call upon the Archangel MIIIII-KAIIIII-ELLLL!”

A blue blast of light, the heart of the sun made even more brilliant, burned inside the chamber.

White light poured out of my chest, and there in the chamber was the likeness of a mighty archangel, illuminated within and without, Michael, standing before his bound brother—

—Lucifer screamed in rage

—Hitler curled up in a ball

—the chains binding Jolene, Tigre, Burt, First In Front exploded into blue sparks.

I grabbed the blinded Jolene by her hand, the Shield slung over my shoulder, Tigre knelt and we all leaped on her back.

“Get us out of here, Tigre,” I shouted.

The Archangel Michael stood between us and his bound brother. Blasts of atomic red and blue between them.

Tigre bounded down the long passageway to the doors.

“Marius, the…” she began.

“Doors?” I pointed the Sword and the bolt of blue lightning that came from up shattered the doors and Tigre sprang through the rubble of the collapsed doors.

Inside there were brilliant flashes of blue and red, red and blue, and parts of the tunnel collapsed, hiding that within from those of us without.

Dust settled, though the rock itself pulsed with the fury exchanged inside.

“He is still bound,” Otto said.

“Yes,” I said. “And still Lord of this Dominion. So we need to call on some help…”

I knelt. I held the Shield in one hand, the Sword in the other. Otto led the blind Jolene to the Shield, where she grasped it with one hand, and Otto held the other. Tigre leaned against the German, and First In Front grasped her shoulder in one hand and held out the other for Burt to perch on; he spread his wing to touch my shoulder.

We were in Circle.

“I call on you, Father, Mother, Creator God, Great Spirit, Holy Spirit, Goddess…I call on you, Jesus the Christ, Light of the Creator Made Flesh, and I call on You, Mother Mary, Queen of the Angels, First Among Healers, and I call on the Mighty Archangels of the Presence, Raphael, Archangel of Healing, Uriel, Archangel of Fire, Gabriel, Archangel of the Call, and Michael, Archangel of Protection, I call on you and I ask for your help on behalf of your beloved daughter, Jolene, I ask that she be joined once again and be made whole in accordance with your Divine Plan, that she be healed, and that all of those who have traveled this road in Service to the Light of Creator God be healed and made whole…”