This Present Darkness (69 page)

Faces toward the east? There were many. Here a college administrator, there a Post Office employee, over here a family of potters and weavers, over there an insurance salesman. All over the town, certain people who knew a certain destiny and a certain sympathetic spiritual vibration stood silently, as if worshiping, their faces toward the east.

And there was no small stir around the big dead tree. Rafar rose from his big branch, his gamemaster’s seat of power, and stood on the hill, looking out over the little town of Ashton with his leering yellow eyes as his hordes of attending spirits gathered around him. His muscular arms rippled, his expansive black wings rising behind him like a
royal train, his jewels gleaming and glittering in the sun.

He too looked toward the east.

He waited until he saw it. Then his breath sucked in through his fangs like a gasp of surprise, but this was no surprise. It was the highest kind of thrill, a demonic exhilaration such as he felt only rarely, a precious and very ripe fruit to be enjoyed only after much labor and preparation.

His black-haired hand grabbed the golden handle of his sword and he pulled the blade from its sheath, making it sing and drone and shimmer with blood-red light. The attending demons all gasped and cheered as Rafar held the sword high, bathing the whole gathering in its sinister red light. The huge wings suddenly disappeared into a blur and with a rush of wind and a blast of power they carried him into the air, out over the wide valley, out over the little town, out into the open where he could be seen from any part of the town or any hiding place near it.

He climbed to a lofty height, then hovered, his sword still in his hand. His head turned this way and that, his body slowly rotating, his eyes shifting about.

“Captain of the Hosts of Heaven!” he bellowed, and the echoes of his booming voice traveled back and forth across the valley like thunder. “Captain Tal, hear me!”

Tal could hear Rafar perfectly. He knew Rafar was about to make a speech, and he knew what the demon warlord was about to say. He too was watching the eastern horizon as he stood hidden in the forest, his chief warriors beside him.

Rafar continued to look everywhere for any sign of his adversary. “I who have never yet seen your face in this, our adventure, now show you mine! Behold it, you and your warriors! For today I place this face forever in your memory as the face of him who vanquished you!”

Tal, Guilo, Triskal, Krioni, Mota, Chimon, Nathan, Armoth, Signa—all were there together, gathered for this moment, gathered to listen to this long-awaited oration.

Rafar continued, “Today I place the name of Rafar, Prince of Babylon, forever in your memory as the name of him who remains bold and stands undefeated!” Rafar took a few more quick turns, looking all around him for any sign of his archenemy. “Tal, Captain of the Hosts
of Heaven, will you dare to show your face to me? I think not! Will you even dare to assail me! I think not! Will you and your motley little band of highwaymen dare to stand in the path of the powers of the air?” Rafar threw in a derisive chuckle. “I think not!”

He paused for effect, and allowed himself a mocking grin. “I give you leave, dear Captain Tal, to withdraw yourself, to spare yourself the anguish awaiting you at my hand! I grant to you and to your warriors now the occasion to turn away, for I do pronounce that the battle’s decision is made already!” Rafar then pointed his sword toward the eastern horizon and said, “Look to the east, captain! There is the outcome clearly written!”

Tal and his chiefs were already looking toward the eastern horizon, their attention rapt and unswerving, even when a young messenger came soaring in with the news—“Hogan and Busche are free! They’ve—” He stopped in midsentence. His eyes followed every other gaze to the east, and he saw what so held their interest.

“Oh, no!” he said in a whisper. “No, no!”

At first the cloud had been only a distant fingertip of blackness poking up over the horizon; it could have been a raincloud, or factory smoke, or a distant, haze-darkened mountain appearing suddenly. But then, as it drew nearer, its borders expanded outward like the slowly emerging edge of a blunt arrowhead stretching slowly and surely across the horizon like a dark shroud, like a steadily rising tide of blackness blocking out the sky. At first, one direct glance could contain it all; in just a few minutes, the eyes had to sweep back and forth, from one end of the horizon to the other.

“Not since Babylon,” Guilo said quietly to Tal.

“They were there,” said Tal, “every one of them, and now they’re back. Look at the front ranks, flying multiple layers over, under, and within.”

“Yes,” said Guilo, observing. “Still the same style of assault.”

A new voice said, “Well, so far, Tal, your plan is working very well. They’ve all come out of hiding, and in countless numbers.”

It was the General. He was expected.

Tal answered, “And hopefully they are planning on a rout.”

“At least your old rival is, to hear him boast.”

Tal only smiled and said, “My General, Rafar boasts with or without
reason.”

“What of the Strongman?”

“By the shape of the cloud, I would say he precedes it by just a few miles.”

“Having possessed Kaseph?”

“That would be my guess, sir.”

The General looked carefully at the approaching cloud, now a deep, inky black and spread like a canopy across the sky. The deep, rumbling drone of the wings was just becoming audible.

“How do we stand?” the General asked.

Tal answered, “Prepared.”

Then, as the sound of the wings grew louder and the shadow of the cloud began to fall across the fields and farmlands beyond Ashton, a reddish tint began to spread through the cloud as if it were burning from within.

“They’ve drawn their swords,” said Guilo.

WHY AM I
so afraid? Sandy wondered.

Here she was, holding Shawn’s hand, going up the front steps of the Administration Building on campus, about to meet some people who had to be the real keys to her destiny, her stepping-stone to real spiritual fulfillment, to higher consciousness, maybe even to self-realization, and yet … all the talk could not remove a nagging fear she felt deep within her. Something just wasn’t right. Maybe it was just a normal nervousness such as one would feel before a wedding or any other very significant event, or maybe it was that last remaining shred of her old, discarded Christian heritage still holding her, pulling her back as if with a leash. Whatever it was, she tried to ignore it, overcome it with reason, even use relaxation techniques she had learned in her college yoga class.

Come on, Sandy … steady breaths now … focus, focus … realign your energies.

There, that’s better. I don’t want Shawn or Professor Langstrat or anyone to think I’m not ready to be initiated.

All the way up the elevator she talked and prattled and tried to laugh, and Shawn laughed along, and by the time they reached the
third floor and the door numbered 326, she thought she was ready.

Shawn opened the door, saying, “You’ll love this,” and they went in.

She didn’t see them. To Sandy, this was only the staff lounge, a very pleasant room with soft carpet, leather-upholstered couches, and massive burl coffee tables.

But the room was occupied, very densely and hideously, and the yellow eyes glared and stared at her from all around, from every corner and chair and wall. They were waiting for her.

One hissed out asthmatically, “Hello there, child.”

Sandy extended her hand to Oliver Young. “Pastor Young, what a pleasant surprise,” she said.

Another let out a long, drooling snicker and said, “I’m very glad you could make it.”

Sandy gave Professor Juleen Langstrat an embrace.

She looked around the room and recognized many of the college faculty, some of her own professors, even some business people and blue-collar workers from around town. There, in the corner, stood the new owner of what used to be Joe’s Market. These thirty people looked like a cross section of Ashton’s best.

The spirits were all ready and waiting. Deception showed her off like a trophy. Madeline was there, smiling wickedly, and beside her, or it, was another demon accomplice, with loop after loop of heavy glistening chains draped over his bony hands.

IN THE CLOUD,
the myriads of demons were haughty, wild, drunk with the anticipation of victory, of slaughter, of unprecedented power and glory. Below them, the town of Ashton was a mere toy, such a very small little hamlet in such a vast countryside. Layer upon layer of spirits droned steadily forward, and myriads of yellow eyes peered down at the prize. The town was quiet and unguarded. Ba-al Rafar had done his work well.

A series of harsh screeches came from the front ranks of the cloud—the generals were calling out orders. Immediately the demon commanders on the fringes of the cloud relayed the orders to the swarms behind each of them, and as the commanders flew out from the cloud and began to drop downward, followed by their countless
squadrons, the edges of the cloud began to wilt and stretch toward the ground.

IN THE LARGE,
formally furnished third-floor conference room, the regents began to gather. Eugene Baylor was there with a pile of financial records and reports, smoking a cigar and feeling chipper. Dwight Brandon looked just a little somber, but he was conversational enough. Delores Pinckston was not feeling well at all, and only wanted to get the whole thing over with. Kaseph’s four lawyers, very professional, sharp-as-a-whip types, came in smirking. Adam Jarred strolled in and seemed more concerned with going fishing afterward than with the business they would be conducting. Every once in a while, someone would look at his watch or at the fancy clock on the wall. It would soon be 2 o’clock. Some were feeling just a little nervous.

The evil spirits that had come into the room with them were feeling nervous also—they realized they would soon be in the presence of the Strongman. This would be their very first time.

ALEXANDER M. KASEPH’S
long, black, chauffeur-driven limousine entered the city limits and turned onto College Way. Kaseph sat in regal splendor in the back, cradling his briefcase in his lap and taking a lustful look out the tinted windows at the beautiful town passing by. He was making plans, envisioning changes, deciding what he would keep and what he would remove.