Authors: Nic Widhalm
The citadel had risen against the white-tipped Rocky Mountains, a shining vision of soaring towers and boy-hood dreams. The moon had hung low in the sky, closer to dawn than dusk, and the pale light had reflected brightly off the new snow draping the mountain stronghold. At the time Hunter had been too shocked for questions, and later too fatigued from training. Now, revisiting that memory for the first time in thirty days, Hunter wondered at the design.
Defensive? Maybe. Hunter had seen the fortress do some crazy things over the last month. But really, a castle? How did they hide it? The towers were forty feet high, for Christ’s sake. And was it smart, really, keeping everyone together like this? At least forty Apkallu had to be living under this one roof. Hash was always telling him to think strategically, so what was the value of making such a big target? Why put all your eggs in one basket?
“Alright, I know you want me to ask,” Hunter said. “Lose the ropes and we’ll talk.”
Something flashed in Mika’il’s eyes. Hunter wasn’t sure, and it had only been for a second, but…had he seen doubt?
“Hash is okay,” Mika’il said, abruptly changing the subject. “I knew you’d be worried, so I wanted to tell you myself. What happened to him wasn’t your fault, he wanted you to know that. You lost control…” She eyed the restraints. “Fortunately, we have a system for this kind of event. You’re not the first acolyte to lose control during a training session,” Mika’il paused and Hunter heard that same lilt in her voice. The same questioning, confused accent of words he heard in Hash’s voice the first night they met.
They’re lying to me. Why?
Mika’il pushed herself back up the wall, her knees coming together so fast Hunter thought he heard a click. She stared at his bonds, her body still pressed against the wall. “You never answered my question. Hash said that he told you to stop. Directly.”
Hunter shook his head, and let his eyes drop to the ground, trying to remember. “He couldn’t have,” he finally said, looking up at the tall Seraphim. “Hash has driven that lesson home many, many times. I could sooner disobey gravity than I could ignore a direct command. You know that.”
His head rocked back, his ears ringing loudly as Mika’il’s hand crashed into his face.
“Watch your tongue,
Power
,” She spat. “I have chosen to converse with you out of kindness, but do not mistake that for affection. You are not my equal.” Her voice deepened, her liquid contralto dropping to low bass. The room filled with liquid darkness.
“I am as far above you as the sun is to the earth,” her voice ground against Hunter’s ears. “I threw the Morning Star from his throne; I banished Gavri’el to the shadowed wood. I am as near to the Alpha and Omega as you will ever see!” The room had disappeared from Hunter’s sight, the queer darkness covering his eyes until every bit of light vanished. Devoid of sight, his ears ringing so loudly he was sure they’d ruptured, Hunter fought against a soul-deep terror, a fear that he was being driven from the world forever. That his last sense—the throbbing ache where his skin rubbed against the dry rope—was only a thin thread from disappearing.
“You may think your new powers make you a king in this place, but I am not of this world. I am not of sinew, blood, and bone. I am the trumpet that sounds
Armageddon.
” Mika’il’s words cracked like thunder, and Hunter cried out, tears running in hot channels down his cheek. This was it—the end. Not just of life, but of
everything.
This was how the world died.
And then light returned.
The liquid shadows pulled back, caressing Hunter’s cheek as they fled, and he was once again in the room with the gray walls. He drew in a long, slow breath as the world returned, thanking whatever god watched over him that Mika’il hadn’t decided on a long lecture.
“You will never question me again,” Mika’il’s voice floated through the room, soft as silk, hard as steel. Hunter looked up from the floor and saw he was alone. Somehow he had known the fluid shadows wouldn’t retreat until she left.
Hunter sat in the chair, staring at the blank walls, playing the conversation back through his head. But every time he thought he was getting somewhere, arriving at some epiphany, he discovered more questions. What Mika’il wanted, why he had been brought to this room, the restraints…
Why restrain me? She just said she’s as far above me as the sun.
He flexed again, testing the rope, but it didn’t budge. He considered reaching for his paradox, using his gift to break the bonds, but it just sounded…exhausting. As it was he could barely keep his eyes open. Barely focus on the wall. Barely keep asking…
In the darkness Hunter slept.
And in the darkness he
dreamed
.
Twisting too late, his nose collapsed as Hash’s elbow connected brutally with his face. Snaking his left foot behind the older man, Hunter pushed forward, hoping to throw his mentor off balance and take the fight to the mat.
“Dammit, Hunter! Stop
thinking
!” Hash shouted, easily avoiding his pupil’s lunge and stepping behind to deliver a painful flick at Hunter’s back. “Your mind is human, but not your instincts. Trust them.”
Hunter caught himself as he fell, trying to gain his footing before Hash reached him, but too late he felt his teacher’s leg snap into his stomach. His breath exploded in a loud gasp. He tried to breathe, couldn’t, and saw Hash pull back his leg for another kick.
Don’t think. React
, Hunter told himself. But for the life of him he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think of anything other than trying to breathe. He convulsed silently, his mouth opening and closing like a fresh-caught trout. He resigned himself to Hash’s heavy boot.
But the kick never came.
After the moment passed and Hunter was finally able to draw a deep breath, he looked behind to see Hash standing easily, eying his student with disappointment. It had only been a week since Hunter began his training, but that didn’t keep Hash from expecting the impossible from his student. Once you’d arrived at the fortress, Hunter learned, things moved quickly.
It was a fortress, Hunter had been surprised to find, despite the fairy-tale facade. Stone corridors crisscrossed the edifice, connecting with smaller outposts within the keep and the inner courtyard. The front of the castle was guarded by a massive steel gate, serviced by two broad-shouldered Powers. Hunter still remembered the first day they arrived, watching in amazement as the two men lifted the massive gate, allowing Hash’s limo to pass underneath. Once through the enormous entry-way the interior was surprisingly modern—though the exterior belied an archaic, medieval culture, inside the fortress teemed with technological wonders.
Exiting the car, Hunter had walked through a tall, metal scanner that reminded him of the security checkpoint at an airport—only this device released a quick, dry-smelling puff of air instead of a beeping. When Hunter reached the other side of the checkpoint he saw that the guard’s computer screen was showing a full scale image of Hunter’s skeletal structure, including projections of assorted colors rippling from the computerized body. When Hunter asked Hash about the ripples his teacher just shrugged. “Aura.”
Everything was a little different in the fortress. Even though it had only been a week, Hunter had already grown accustomed to the full-body, “aura” scans, the prescient, mind-reading lunch menus, and the practice rooms that changed dimensions and surfaces whenever Hash snapped his fingers.
As if to drive the point home, the short, muscled man snapped his fingers and the walls smoothly contracted, the floor turning from a padded surface to a light wood grain. The lights dimmed, and the scent of forest pine saturated the room.
Hunter slowly pushed himself to his feet, his nose throbbing mercilessly—although Hunter had already learned the simple trick of locking away pain, it still took him several minutes to move the sensation to the forgotten part of his mind—and rested in the chair that rose from the ground. Not a separate stool, but a short, continuous run of light-brown material that joined seamlessly with the wood floor. It was like something out of a bad sci-fi flick. Only with angels.
Hash leaned against a table, the sides connecting seamlessly with the wall, and shook his head. “You know what I’m going to say.”
Hunter shrugged. “So, maybe don’t say it then?”
“Hunter, you’ve got to stop acting so damn
human
.”
“I know, I know. It’s just, well, I’ve been human my whole life, you see.”
Hash’s lips twitched, but his eyes were serious. “Smart ass,” he growled. “You’ll be laughing real hard the first time you meet an
Adonai
outside these walls.”
Hunter shrugged again. He hadn’t known Hash very long, but this was the fifth time in a week the older man had beat Hunter to within an inch of his life, and after going through that a few times you get to know a guy. Hash seemed more than frustrated—he seemed confused.
“You should be farther along,” Hash muttered, his eyes distant. Then the older man shook his head, his frown melting, and said, “Lunch time!”
Hunter jumped to his feet and followed Hash as he exited from the training room into one of the many corridors that ran through the fortress. “Hash,” Hunter said from behind his teacher, trying to ignore his cracked ribs and keep up. The bones could be taken care of after they ate, right now there was something the younger man had been wanting to ask his mentor for a long time. “Does God exist?” Hunter blurted.
Hash stopped. “What?” He squinted at Hunter. “What kind of question is that?”
“Just…curious,” Hunter said lamely.
Hash’s eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at Hunter. “Okay,” he said finally. “I guess you deserve to know. You’ll find out soon enough anyway, and Lord knows I was curious as a boy in a whorehouse the first time I came here. Let’s see, God...”
“Did you know him?” Hunter asked with a hushed voice.
Hash snorted. “’Course not. Shit boy, whaddya think, we just remember who we are one day and that’s it? Just a chronological picture book in our brains? I’ve been reborn at least twenty-five times, and those are only the ones I know about. This incarnation is the first time I’ve awakened. When you’re Apkallu you learn pretty damn quick that your memory is one more human thing that’s going to break down someday. Best not trust it.”
“But you remember some things?” Hunter prodded, trailing Hash as he continued walking toward the mess hall.
“Sure, yeah. I mean, look, it’s different for everyone. Some just remember sensations, like perfumed air, or cold steel through their gut. Kershiel once told me he remembered the taste of an ice cream flavor that’s never been invented on Earth. Most of it’s just throw-away stuff.”
“I see,” Hunter said, even though he didn’t.
“Me? Always battle. Even in my past lives I would get a glimpse of it now and then. Same with you, probably. Soldiers are always the same.”
Hunter thought about the times he had seen the red sky, the muted screams, the clash of steel on steel. He had always known they were more than hallucinations, but…memories? Maybe Hunter had been the one causing those screams. Or maybe the one screaming.
“Anyway, you want to know about God…that’s a little more complicated.” They had reached the mess hall, and Hash stopped talking as they walked up to a series of small windows that ran horizontally down the wall like teller stations in a bank. Approaching the window, Hash pressed his palm on the short counter and waited for the glass screen to open. After a few seconds the glass ascended into the surrounding stone, and a steaming plate brimming with fettuccine and thick, creamy Alfredo sauce appeared. Hash grabbed it without comment and moved aside as Hunter replaced him, pressing his hand to the same spot. He wondered what he’d be dining on today.
The window rose smoothly, revealing a wide porcelain bowl on the other side, steam rising in thick, fragrant clouds. Several wontons floated in a clear orange broth, and Hunter felt his stomach rumble. He hadn’t even known what he wanted, but now, the rich scent of lemongrass and beef filling his nostrils, he couldn’t imagine eating anything else . This happened at every meal, and Hash said it only got better with time. Once the windows learned your personal tastes they were close to prescient.
Hunter grabbed the bowl and joined Hash at one of several open tables. Like the training room, they rose from the floor in perfect unity, melding seamlessly with the light-gray stone base.
They were mostly alone in the hall today, with the exception of two tall young men who occupied a table in the corner. Hunter recognized the larger man as another Power, though he couldn’t remember his name. He hadn’t seen the man’s companion, a smaller, thin fellow before, but he looked like a Principality. Hash said all Docs wore glasses.
“So,” Hash said as he tucked into the fettuccine. “Where were we? Right,” he said as Hunter opened his mouth. “God.” Hash shoveled a spoonful of pasta into his mouth, chewing loudly, then picked up a glass of milk that had been waiting at the table, and drank deeply. Setting the glass down, Hash continued: “You ready for the awesome truth? No one knows. I guess the Seraphim might, or they’d like us to think so, but…hell, I’m betting even Mika’il’s in the dark when it comes to the big guy.”
“But we’re
angels
.” Hunter said, looking up from his soup. “We’re supposed to work for him.”