This Present Darkness (9 page)

Guilo looked down at his sword. Was it now shaking in his hands? He made a point of holding it still, but he couldn’t help staring for a moment at the blade, still gashed and discolored from the last time Guilo and Tal had confronted this Baal-prince from the ancient times. Guilo and Tal had struggled against him twenty-three days before finally defeating him on the eve of Babylon’s fall. Guilo could still remember the darkness, the shrieking and horror, the fierce, terrible grappling while pain seared every inch of his being. The evil of this would-be pagan god seemed to envelop him and everything around him like thick smoke, and half the time the two warriors had to maneuver and strike blindly,
each one not even knowing if the other was still in the fight. To this day neither of them even knew which one finally delivered the blow that sent Rafar plummeting into the abyss. All they remembered was his heaven-shaking scream as he fell through a jagged rift in space, and then seeing each other again when the great darkness that surrounded them cleared like a melting fog.

“I know you speak the truth,” Guilo said at last, “but … would such as Rafar come to this place? He is a prince of nations, not mere hamlets. What
is
this place? What interest could he possibly have in it?”

Tal only shook his head. “We don’t know. But it
is
Rafar, there’s no question, and the stirrings in the enemy’s realm indicate something is in the making. The Spirit wants us here. We must confront whatever it is.”

“And we are not to fight, we are not to resist!” Guilo exclaimed. “I will be most fascinated to hear your next order, Tal. We cannot fight?”

“Not yet. We’re too few, and there’s very little prayer cover. There are to be no skirmishes, no confrontations. We’re not to show ourselves in any way as aggressors. As long as we stay out of their way, keep close to this place, and pose no threat to them, our presence here will seem like normal watchcare over a few, struggling saints.” Then he added with a very direct tone, “And it will be best if it not be spread that I am here.”

Guilo now felt a little out of place still holding his sword, and sheathed it with an air of disgust.

“And,” he prodded, “you do have a plan? We were not called here to watch the town fall?”

The lawn mower roared by the windows, and Tal guided their attention to its operator.

“It was Chimon’s task to bring him here,” he said, “to blind the eyes of his enemies and slip him through ahead of the adversary’s choice for the pastor of this flock. Chimon succeeded, Hank was voted in, to the surprise of many, and now he’s here in Ashton, praying every hour of every day. We were called here for his sake, for the saints of God and for the Lamb.”

“For the saints of God and for the Lamb!” they all echoed.

Tal looked at a tall, dark-haired warrior, the one who had taken him through the town the night of the Festival, and smiled. “And you
had him win by just one vote?”

The warrior shrugged. “The Lord wanted him here. Chimon and I had to make sure he won, and not the other man who has no fear of God.”

Tal introduced Guilo to this warrior. “Guilo, this is Krioni, watch-carer of our prayer warrior here and of the town of Ashton. Our call began with Hank, but Hank’s presence here began with Krioni.”

Guilo and Krioni nodded silent greeting to each other.

Tal watched Hank finishing up the lawn and praying out loud at the same time. “So now, as his enemies in the congregation regroup and try to find another way to oust him, he continues to pray for Ashton. He’s one of the last.”

“If not
the
last!” lamented Krioni.

“No,” cautioned Tal, “he’s not alone. There’s still a Remnant of saints somewhere in this town. There is always a Remnant.”

“There is always a Remnant,” they all echoed.

“Our conflict begins in this place. We’ll make this our location for now, hedge it in and work from here.” He spoke to a tall Oriental in the back of the room. “Signa, take as your charge this building, and choose two now to stand with you. This is our rest point. Make it secure. No demon is to approach it.”

Signa immediately found two volunteers to work with him. They vanished to their posts.

“Now, Triskal, I’ll hear news of Marshall Hogan.”

“I followed him up to my encounter with Guilo. Though Krioni has reported a rather eventless situation up to the time of the Festival, ever since then Hogan has been hounded by a demon of complacency and despair.”

Tal received that news with great interest. “Hm. Could be he’s beginning to stir. They’re covering him, trying to hold him in check.”

Krioni added, “I never thought I’d see it happen. The Lord wanted him in charge of the
Clarion
, and we took care of that too, but I’ve never seen a more tired individual.”

“Tired, yes, but that will only make him more usable in the Lord’s hands. And I perceive that he is indeed waking up, just as the Lord foreknew.”

“Though he could awaken only to be destroyed,” said Triskal. “They
must be watching him. They fear what he could do in his influential position.”

“True,” replied Tal. “So while they bait our bear, we must be sure they stir him up and no more than that. It’s going to be a very critical business.”

Now Tal was ready to move. He addressed the whole group. “I expect Rafar to take power here by nightfall; no doubt we’ll all feel it when he does. Be sure of this: he will immediately search out the greatest threat to him and try to remove it.”

“Ah, Henry Busche,” said Guilo.

“Krioni and Triskal, you can be sure that a troop of some kind will be sent to test Hank’s spirit. Select for yourselves four warriors and watch over him.” Tal touched Krioni’s shoulder and added, “Krioni, up until now you’ve done very well in protecting Hank from any direct onslaughts. I commend you.”

“Thank you, captain.”

“I ask you now to do a difficult thing. Tonight you must stand by and keep watch. Do not let Hank’s life be touched, but aside from that prevent nothing. It will be a test he
must
undergo.”

There was a slight moment of surprise and wonderment, but each warrior was ready to trust Tal’s judgment.

Tal continued, “As for Marshall Hogan … he’s the only one I’m not sure about yet. Rafar will give his lackeys incredible license with him, and he could either collapse and retreat, or—as we all hope—rouse himself and fight back. He’ll be of special interest to Rafar—and to me—tonight. Guilo, select two warriors for yourself and two for me. We’ll watchcare over Marshall tonight and see how he responds. The rest of you will search out the Remnant.”

Tal drew his sword and held it high. The others did the same and a forest of shining blades appeared, held aloft in strong arms.

“Rafar,” Tal said in a low, musing voice, “we meet again.” Then, in the voice of a Captain of the Host: “For the saints of God and for the Lamb!”

“For the saints of God and for the Lamb!” they echoed.

COMPLACENCY UNFURLED HIS
wings and drifted into Stewart
Hall, sinking down through the main floor and into the catacombs of the basement level, the area set aside for administration and the private offices of the Psychology Department. In this dismal nether world the ceiling was low and oppressive, and crawling with water pipes and heat ducts that seemed like so many huge snakes waiting to drop. Everything—walls, ceiling, pipes, woodwork—was painted the same dirty beige, and light was scarce, which suited Complacency and his associates just fine. They preferred the darkness, and Complacency noticed that there seemed to be a touch more than usual. The others must have arrived.

He floated down a long burrow of a hallway to a large door at the end marked “Conference Room,” and passed through the door into a cauldron of living evil. The room was dark, but the darkness seemed more of a presence than a physical condition; it was a force, an atmosphere that drifted and crept about the room. Out of that darkness glared many pairs of dull yellow cat-eyes belonging to a horrible gallery of grotesque faces. The various shapes of Complacency’s fellow workers were outlined and backlit by a sourceless red glow. Yellow vapor slithered in lacy wisps about the room and filled the air with its stench as the many apparitions carried on their hushed, gargling conversations there in the dark.

Complacency could sense their common disdain for him, but the feeling was mutual enough. These belligerent egotists would walk on anyone to exalt themselves, and Complacency just happened to be the smallest, hence the easiest to persecute.

He approached two hulking forms in the middle of some debate, and from their massive, spine-covered arms and poisonous words he could tell they were demons who specialized in hate—planting, aggravating, and spreading it, using their crushing arms and venomous quills to constrict and poison the love out of anyone.

Complacency asked them, “Where is Prince Lucius?”

“Find him yourself, lizard!” one of them growled.

A demon of lust, a slithery creature with darting and shifty eyes and slippery hide, overheard and joined in, snatching Complacency with his long, sharp talons.

“And where have you been sleeping today?” it asked with a sneer.

“I do not sleep!” Complacency retorted. “I cause
people
to sleep.”

“To lust and steal innocence is far better.”

“But someone must turn away the eyes of others.”

Lust thought that over and gave a smirk of approval. He dropped Complacency rudely as those who watched laughed.

Complacency passed Deception, but didn’t bother to ask him anything. Deception was the proudest, haughtiest demon of them all, very arrogant in his supposedly superior knowledge of how to control men’s minds. His appearance was not even as gruesome as the other demons; he almost looked human. His weapon, he boasted, was always a compelling, persuasive argument with lies ever so subtly woven in.

Many others were there: Murder, his talons still dripping with blood; Lawlessness, his knuckles honed into spikelike protrusions and his hide thick and leathery; Jealousy, as suspicious and difficult a demon to work with as any.

But Complacency finally found Lucius, the Prince of Ashton, the demon who held the highest position of all of them. Lucius was in conference with a tight huddle of other power holders, going over the next strategies for controlling the town.

He was unquestionably the demon in charge. Huge to begin with, he always maintained an imposing posture with his wings wrapped loosely around him to widen his outline, his arms flexed, his fists clenched and ready for blows. Many demons coveted his rank, and he knew it; he had fought and banished many to get where he was, and he had every intention of staying there. He trusted no one and suspected everyone, and his black, gnarled face and hawk-sharp eyes always carried the message that even his associates were his enemies.

Complacency was desperate and enraged enough to violate Lucius’s ideas of respect and decorum. He shoved his way through the group and right up to Lucius, who glared at him, surprised by the rude interruption.

“My Prince,” Complacency pleaded, “I must have a word with you.”

Lucius’s eyes narrowed. Who was this little lizard to interrupt him in the middle of a conference, to violate decorum in front of these others?

“Why aren’t you with Hogan?” he growled.

“I must speak with you!”

“Dare you speak to me without my first speaking to you?”

“It is vitally important. You’re—you’re making a mistake. You’re bothering Hogan’s daughter, and—”

Lucius immediately became a small volcano, spewing forth horrible cursings and wrath. “You accuse your prince of a mistake? You dare to question my actions?”

Complacency cowered, expecting a stinging blow any moment, but he spoke anyway.

“Hogan will do us no harm if you let him alone. But you have only lit a fire within him, and he casts me off!”

The blow came, a walloping swat from the back of Lucius’s hand, and as Complacency tumbled across the room he debated whether or not to speak another word. When he came to rest and regathered himself, he looked up to see every eye upon him, and he could feel their mocking disdain.

Lucius walked slowly toward him, and towered over him like a giant tree. “Hogan casts you off? Is it not you who releases him?”

“Do not strike me! Only hear my appeal!”

Lucius’s big fists clenched painfully around handfuls of Complacency’s flesh and snatched him up so they were eye to eye. “He could stand in our way and I won’t have that! You know your duty. Perform it!”

“Well I was, well I was!” Complacency cried. “He was nothing to fear at all, a slug, a lump of clay. I could have held him there forever.”

“So do it!”

“Prince Lucius, please hear me! Give him no enemy. Let him have no need to fight.”

Lucius dropped him on the floor in a humiliated heap. The prince addressed the others in the room.

“We have given Hogan an enemy?”

They all knew how to answer. “No indeed!”