Wayward Son
By Dabeagle
Chapter 16
“Gideon,” I whispered as the last of the shadows evaporated. My hand hovered over the place I'd seen him last, my mind flashing to the way the council members had swarmed him, centering their attacks. I glanced at Woolcott who was...smiling.
“All right we have to move fast, but not too fast. We have to get ready.” He glanced at me and furrowed his brow, “Your jaw all right? It looks like you took quite a pop.”
A mere moment later I was blinking and looking up, shaking my head while I dimly heard Woolcott muttering. I lifted my head and saw him slowly staggering to his feet, and Aila staring at us both open mouthed. I glanced back at Woolcott and saw him rubbing his own jaw as he turned to face me.
“You know, I've lived a long time. You think once in a while you brats would remember that and give me just the slightest ounce of credit! Just a hair of trust!” He narrowed his eyes at me, “And who taught you that disintegrating spell?”
“I saw you use it. Why the hell did they take Gideon? What kind of a fucked up plan is this?” My anger was pulsing through my veins, directly competing with the ache in my heart, and both had me back on my feet.
“A very simple one, and we are about to strike back.” Woolcott's eyes showed a touch of compassion, “I knew this was a risk, we all did, but don't think for a moment that I can't find my little darkling.” So saying he withdrew a small copper medallion from one of his pockets. “This is the mate to the one I gave Gideon and with it, we shall go directly to him.”
“Then let's go,” I growled.
“No. We must give them time enough to think they have made good their escape, and it will take a few moments for the trinket to charge. In the meantime, lets put our heads together.”
“They weren't nephilim.” Aila stated.
“Very good,” he looked at me and stage whispered, “Boobs and brains, who'd have thunk it?”
“Really? Right now you're going to be a pervert?”
“My dear, I never stopped. But, alas, you are right. My lechery can wait,” he winked, “For now.”
“Pig.”
“Focus people. Why does this information mean anything to us?” I growled.
“Simple Danny. It's like people with guns, they run out of bullets. They were using light weapons, similar to that half assed light saber you have there.”
“I'll have you know that is an exquisite and rare weapon!” Woolcott huffed.
“Yeah, well, doesn't look like you're getting it back.” I muttered as I looked down at it. During the fight or after, who knows? It had wrapped itself around my arm like a decorative band – wound down my forearm in a serpentine fashion.
“Interesting.” Woolcott muttered.
“Anyway,” Aila grumbled, “They probably used up most of their weapon damage in that attack. The council is normally made up of nephilim, but with Woolcott killing the nest last time they are probably trying to assess the nature of the threat before putting more here. I'm guessing these were thralls.”
“Okay, yeah, keep going. Just as if I know what a thrall is.” I rolled my eyes with impatience.
“Like mind control. Those people were the true believers, people so brainwashed they actually think the best reward they could have is dying for their belief; in this case their belief in the nephilim that is using them.”
“So here is the plan,” Woolcott said cheerily, “We're going to portal in where Gideon is, kill all but one and try not to get killed ourselves. Oh,” Woolcott smiled brightly, “And rescue the little barbarian. After all they are only human, what will they do, tremble in fear once they realize they have him? They are probably converting to shadow right now.
“All right, I'll open three portals, two of which are decoys. We'll go through the second one to open.”
“Why that one?” Aila asked.
“Simple, they were all men.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she muttered.
“Men think in threes.” He shrugged, “It's a what do you call it, natural law. Think about it, the strip club? Girls, Girls, Girls. Nude, Nude, Nude. Boobs, Boobs,”
“Yeah, okay, we get it. Males are morons.” Aila said through gritted teeth.
“Well, I don't think,” Woolcott began.
“Fine, second portal. Then what? What can we expect?” I interrupted.
“Well, obviously the portals will alert them, but which one we go through will be the surprise. You and Aila will be fine, since she's light and your weapon will absorb the light bolt. Locate and incapacitate, but” Woolcott held up a finger and his face looked deadly serious. “Keep in mind this is war. We do not put more quarters in if we die, so make every attack count.”
“Put quarters in what?” Aila asked.
Woolcott looked momentarily confused. “You know, like a video game. Extra lives?”
“When did video games take quarters?” Aila asked as she glanced at me. I shrugged and Woolcott looked stricken.
“SiniStar? Berserk? Pac-Man? Gauntlet?” He glanced back and forth at us and then his voice dropped into a weird, overly melodramatic cadence, “Blue wizard is about to die?”
“Dude. Can we get back to rescuing my boyfriend?”
“Ingrates. Fine, should have been enough time. Allow three seconds before coming through after me. Fights are won quickly; the longer we fight the worse our odds become that sheer numbers will turn the tide. Strike hard, fast and often.” So saying he twirled the medallion in the air, and with a quick spell and a wave of his hand the coins split into three and opened into portals. “Once more, into the breach dear friends!” Woolcott called out maniacally and charged through. I made it to one and a half before I dove through the portal.
I rolled as I landed, stumbling awkwardly since my body just wasn't used to acting like an action star. My serenity trembled but held as I took in the scene before me. This must have been a working farm once, a mostly open field next to a large dilapidated farmhouse with a matching barn and silo. Oh, and a whole mess of council thralls.
Buckets of them. And they'd reloaded.
A Light bolt streaked towards me and I raised my hand, my weapon coming to life and absorbing the streak of deadly light. I charged the group who was holding steady and firing methodically, in the idea that they were safer mowing us down at range. Using one hand to deflect bolts I stopped, raised my left hand and muttered Woolcott's disintegration spell. Shimmering light enveloped my hand as I kept repeating the chant. Rather than finishing and going silent it continued to build in intensity. The sparkle of purple, blue light suddenly left my hand with me physically pushing it away and releasing the power of the incantation.
The magic bolt surged forward at a downward angle, taking off a pair of thralls legs and hitting the ground with a thunderclap. Dirt sprayed into the air and, while hidden from view I screamed my rage and pain while closing the gap. Then I was on them. I felt the burn of a light blast hit my left arm, making it go numb and dropping uselessly to my side. It felt as if it were literally burning from my body and I shrieked in pain, and used it to fuel my frenzied combat.
The blade twirled with a life of its own, forcing my body into acrobatic contortions to keep up. When I spun and left my feet I tried to make sure my spinning feet hit someone's face each time. A fist got through my defense and struck me hard in the face. I felt my nose begin to bleed and my eyes water. I dimly heard the scream as the attacking thrall lost his hand to my blade, but my satisfaction was short lived as my feet were kicked out from under me and my breath rushed out of my lungs. Side burning and lungs gasping for air, I rolled and threw another disintegration spell taking a thrall right in the neck. His body fell, spraying arterial blood in a fan and still the fight raged.
Lighting flew, chaining from one thrall to another as Woolcott's staff flashed and spun. Aila danced between thralls, driving her staff through their bodies as if they were no more than paper tigers attempting to battle a volcanic flame. I screamed as a bolt of light glanced off my right shoulder, and continued screaming in agony as my right arm kept moving, possessed by the weapon. My mind, floating in pain and misery, began to erode my serenity to the point that it was a thread holding a great weight.
Then, through it all, I heard the scream. Gideon. The scream sent a chill deep into me, reverberating through my organs, my bones, my thoughts. With a leap I can only think of as Herculean I launched straight into the air, maybe ten feet, and came down with my weapon clenched in my fist and pounding the ground. A wave of light and dark energy washed out from my position, throwing my attackers back, cutting them down and and last breaking their position. The remaining thralls were retreating to the silo.
“I don't see him,” Woolcott panted as he leaned on his knees next to me. Aila was mute, her bright wings splashed crimson with spilled blood, her staff covered in gore.
“They are going to the silo, there must be something of value there.” I muttered. Aila surged forward and struck the silo's metal side and her staff bounced back as if hitting a rubber wall. A look of surprise flashed across her fearsome visage and as she readied herself for another strike I called out a halt.
I could see the runes along the curved walls of the silo, dancing before my eyes. They were similar to the protective wards I'd seen Woolcott use, but somehow not the same. I looked hard, the writing swirling and disappearing as if in a mist, only to return. A small bit would make sense, be lost, and reform as even more that made sense. In perhaps less than a minute, I understood.
“It repels elemental damage,” I nodded at the silo while Aila tilted her head at me in puzzlement.
“How do you know?” She asked me. Her voice was flush with power, almost as if her vocal chords were made of a metallic substance.
“His serenity. It has taken the limited spell knowledge he has and used it to create a dictionary of sorts, a Rosetta stone to interpret other spells. Daniel,” He placed a hand on my shoulder and I turned my head slightly towards him. “It cannot stop the power of the plane.”
The scream arose again, muffled inside the silo. My blood boiled, my arm and shoulder burning, my jaw aching – and yet none of it mattered. The blood on my face, my blood, meant nothing. Serenity took a firm grip, I raised my hand and began the incantation. I sent beam after beam of the disintegration spell, destroying chunks and layers of the silo, watching it tilt crazily like some redneck tower of Pisa until it came crashing down. The dust swirled, and we three approached. Still thralls stood before us, firing their weapons.
My wounds blazed with pain, almost to the point of overwhelming me, but Gideon's screams drove me forward. My blade severed a head from shoulders and the hot blood splashed my clothes, my nostrils filled with the scent of violent death. Again the blade flashed and a hand fell with it's light weapon still tightly gripped, and then a mortal slash to the body opened the thralls stomach; his innards spiraling out as he tried frantically to push it back in with the remaining hand. It took only moments, and yet it felt like eons as Gideon's screams echoed in my ears. Still I could hear him in panic, in fear and in pain; but there was no sign of him. Woolcott bowed his head and lifted off his feet, the medallion spinning in the air in front of him, over his outstretched hand. Suddenly his mouth opened and I heard Gideon's voice, panicked and relieved; in pain.
“I'm below you! Take out the generator by the silo!”
I Glanced around me at the ruined walls of the silo, all that remained was a jagged circle of the remains of the wall. Aila began to destroy the remainder of the wall, and I began doing the same on the opposite side.
“Here!” Aila called and with a tremendous downward stroke, impaled the generator which arced electricity and burst into flame. Aila flew up into the air, and hung suspended from the flames. Woolcott threw another multicolored disc into the air, the shield taking hold mere moments before the generator blew. I ignored it and the heat it made as I scanned the floor beneath me. Woolcott muttered and wind cleared the area where the base of the silo had been of the detritus covering it.
“There,” I muttered as I grabbed an iron ring set into the floor. Gideon screamed again and the sounds of combat echoed up as the door came free. I scrambled down the steps to see Gideon in all his dark glory, wings tattered and bleeding from his side, his face and his chest. For all that his deadly twin blades were out, the shadowy kris slicing through the air as he battled the nephilim of light.
It took no more than a half second for me to wade into the fight and flank the light wielder. He used his staff to sweep my feet and then turn to defend against a clearly diminished Gideon, but my double bladed weapon forced me into a leap and then came crashing down with the grip on the top of the nephilim's head.
He staggered and my hand came down again, and again. It came down more times than I can count, and at some point I was no longer striking with the grip, no longer trying to incapacitate. The shadow side of my blade bit deep, pushed through and with a gasp the light wielder collapsed, the room dimming from his wound. Aila's grip pulled me away roughly, threw me against a pole in the middle of the room that dazed me as my head bounced off it. Woolcott muttered his stasis spell and the nephilim stopped wheezing and, I suppose, dying.
I didn't care. My eyes searched the room for Gideon. He was leaning against the circular wall, blood ran freely down his side and ruined flesh could be seen through the burn in his shirt. The same could be said of his chest and his poor damaged face. The skin was melted, burned back from a well placed bolt of light. I stumbled to him, my serenity shattering, and took him in my arms as he slumped into me. I held him as shadows swirled through the room, clouded my vision, and enveloped us both.
Then there was darkness.
The sky was purple and inky clouds drifted lazily across the overhead expanse. I glanced around as I stood up to get my bearings. I was in an open field, the horizon unbroken by hills, mountains or dwellings of any kind. A warm sun lolled overhead, partially hidden by the drifting clouds. The field was cut grass, flat like a sports field, and it had a pleasantly cool feel under my feet. I glanced down and realized I was barefoot. Jeans and a plain white tee shirt were my attire, and as a breeze lifted my hair I glanced up to see Gideon rising from the soft grass and similarly dressed.
“Gideon, you're all right.” Joy filled my heart as I took steps towards him that seemed slow as if fighting through the air itself. Then I was next to him and his face broke out into a curious smile.
“Daniel,” he wrapped me in his arms and kept repeating my name. I returned the contact, comfort filling me as my body told me Gideon was alive and vibrant before me. He pulled back and looked at me with that curious smile still on his face. “How did you get in here?”
“I don't even know where we are,” I laughed, “And I don't care. You're all right; that's all that matters.”
“You being here will certainly make it easier, set my mind at rest.” He nodded as he broke the embrace but took my hand in his. “But this is really odd. No one has ever entered my healing before.”
“What do you mean?” I smiled at him, the happiness of seeing him whole making my chest feel lighter than air.
“This,” he waved his free hand, “Isn't real. I'm healing from the...” his voice trailed off and my hand went to his face, cupping his cheek.
“You're okay now.” I comforted.
“He was torturing me. I was afraid you'd be too late.” His voice cracked, the words a mere whisper.
“We were right after you, I'd never stop till you were okay. Never.” Tears filled my eyes as his closed slowly, his brown orbs revealed again and centered on me.
“I know.” He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands and then dropped to the grass with a grin, patting the space next to him. I plopped down on the grass next him and lay on my back wondering at the twilight colored sky and moments later he put his head on my chest, so reminiscent of our nap in his room that seemed like another lifetime ago. I idly ran my fingers through his hair and he sighed, using one arm to hug me.
“So this is what you see when you heal yourself?” I asked, trying to move away from the battle we'd just endured.
“Yes. When you learn to heal yourself you have to project a space you can feel safe and comfortable. It's safe because there is nowhere anything can hide, that's why it's so flat.”
“The grass?” I prompted, fingers continuing to flow through his silky hair.
“I had a phase where I liked baseball, the grass reminds me of that.”
I fell silent and just absorbed being with him, feeling the warmth of his body next to mine and the feeling of his arm so casually across my midriff. I grew eager to hear his voice again soon, however, and so picked up the threads of the conversation.
“How do you think I got here?”
His lifted his head and rested his body on his side, propped on his elbow now able to face me. “Because you're safe to me. If I had any thoughts of you being a threat, you couldn't be here.”
My mind was blown. The very idea of so much trust was enormous and yet gratifying. I decided to shift the conversation. “How about my clothes? I'd almost have thought I wouldn't have any.”
“Well, it's not the first time you've been here, sort of.” he grinned slyly. “I can control this place like I do a dream, so I can have conversations with people or do things within the scope of my imagination.” He smiled as he placed a hand on my chest, “The reason you're dressed this way is it's the way I remember you when I first really noticed you. To me, it was very sexy, even if it may not have seemed that way to anyone else.”
“I'm waiting,” I grinned at him. He smiled back, perhaps a tiny spot of red on his cheeks.
“It was after one of your baseball practices. I had stayed after to work in the library.” He laughed and shook his head, “I couldn't work at home because Woolcott was trying to work on the house defenses and made that little statue explode about five times a minute while he tweaked it.”
“Looks like an armored lawn gnome.” I smiled.
“Lawn gnome?”
“Yeah. People actually think they aren't creepy. Anyway, go an about me being sexy.”
“Yeah, well, I was leaving through the locker room since it let out at the back of the school and was closest to the road. You guys must have just showered and were getting dressed,” he grinned at me, “Your hair was still wet and you were only partially dressed. I don't know,” he sighed and put his hand on my chest, “Sometimes jeans and a white tee shirt are just a good look. Sexy.” He leaned in for a quick peck.
“Hmm, how long will this last?” I shot him a lascivious look.
“Time passes differently. It's probably been a day at least, maybe as many as three for us to be awake and talk this long.” He glanced up and pointed to a spot in the sky that seemed thin, almost opaque. “We'll be out of it soon. That's the ceiling in our room.”
“I like that,” I smiled and leaned my head back. “Our room.” So we lay in silence, his head returning to my chest and my hand stroking his hair as the sky gradually resolved itself into the darkened room where we'd made love for the first time.
“Oh thank God,” Aila kept muttering as I opened my eyes to find myself locked in an embrace with Gideon, the same position we'd been in when the lights had gone out. “I've never seen anyone inside his healing before, I thought...well I didn't know what to think.”
“How long have we been out? I am starving!” Gideon placed a hand over his stomach which gurgled loudly while we separated.
“Woolcott should be back anytime, he went to get pizza and wings. He was right you were getting close to being done.”
“How long, Aila?” Gideon asked again.
“Four days.” Was the quiet response.
“Were we successful?” I asked. “The last thing I remember is trying to kill that nephilim, and I don't think any thralls were left alive.”
“The nephilim is still in stasis, more or less. He needs healing badly if we're going to get anything from him.” Aila held up a hand, “And as much as I want those answers three days ago, you need to eat first and get some strength back. Woolcott's been busy while you guys were...gone.”
“Busy with what?” I felt my eyes narrowing involuntarily.
“Well, he didn't want to take chances doing nothing with Azrael and Lucifer hanging over our heads,” she shrugged, “I agreed so we went back to the battle site to see if we could learn anything more.”
Gideon leaned his back against the wall and I adjusted to sit next to him. Aila crossed her legs and sat opposite us. Gideon waved his hands asking silently if they had found anything.
“What we found was...way more than disturbing. Considering the battle, it shouldn't have made me as sick as it did.” She shook her head, “But what I saw was just barbaric.
“We started by searching the thralls bodies for trinkets, clues of any kind indicating who they served but that was pretty useless. We found light weapons and meaningless symbols, but nothing of a more personal nature. That room they put you in though, that was pretty telling.” One shimmering tear of light dripped down her cheek.
“It was a chamber of unmaking, wasn't it?” Gideon asked. Aila nodded slowly. “So the torture was just the beginning.”
I took Gideon's hand as Aila responded. “The generator powered the panels in the wall, making sure there were no shadows in the room for a human dark to use to repair or escape. The floor and ceiling even had lights, so when you were tied in the center you could gather no extra strength.” More tears dripped from her eyes, pearls of light leaving a glowing trail on her cheeks.“Oh Gideon, you must have been terrified.”
“I was.” He nodded, “But I knew you were coming for me.” His grip tightened on my hand, “I knew it.”
“So I gather this chamber isn't for anything good but...what was the purpose?” I asked.
The door pushed open and Woolcott strode in, pizza boxes stacked high and a pitcher of glowing water in hand. “Welcome back, welcome back.” he sang slightly off tune. Three confused stares met him and he stopped in place. “Welcome Back Kotter? Theme song? Oh really, you three are putting me on!”
I helped Gideon to relive the burden of the food boxes, eating hungrily and trying to remember not to eat too much too fast. Abruptly I thought of Woolcott's long ago admonition about how difficult it was to get glowing water out of the carpet and burst out laughing. I set my pizza down, barely, and simply laughed at the absurdity. Gideon grinned at me but just kept eating. Woolcott and Aila clearly thought I'd lost my mind, but it only made it funnier.
“Well, that chamber is no more,” Woolcott informed us as he snagged a slice and began to eat. “I found dust from at least three, maybe four dark nephilim. So those that originally attacked the house were militant about their goals.”
“Why didn't he cut me down then?” Gideon asked, “Why the torture and questions?”
“Takes thirteen of them to channel the burning spell,” Aila replied quietly. “It's the most powerful single group spell the light has. A group of twelve could eventually bring a dark nephilim down, and the reverse is true as well. But to be sure, to completely remove them...”
“To erase them from the book, as if they never were, it takes thirteen.” Woolcott nodded.
“So...wow.” Gideon looked down. “Their hate runs so deep.”
“I made a thorough inspection of our captive and found something interesting. A marking.” Woolcott stated conversationally, and then promptly shoved the rest of the slice in his mouth effectively silencing him. The rest of us ate in anticipation of his next words, hoping it would lead us to our next step.
“I recognize the symbol on his sleeve, and it all makes sense now.” Woolcott glanced at each of us melodramatically. “It's always a woman, in the end.”
“Are you about to be a pig again?” her eyes narrowed at Woolcott's stricken expression.
“My dear, it's the nature of things. Even the vast litany of evil that men do usually traces back to a woman,” Woolcott smiled, “And people think money is the root of evil.”
“I'm going to amputate your nut sack in thirty seconds if you don't start making sense,” she growled.
“I rest my case!” Woolcott laughed. “In any case, time for more history.” He held up a finger and assumed a quizzical look, “you recall that angels are the polar opposite of demons?”
“You said they degrade into them, their version of being fallen.” I recalled.
“Indeed, and so there have been other things to point our way as well. Lucifer noted that change and being interested in it 'prevented the fall' as he put it. So that explains his longevity, that he remains interested in the world around him. Now,” He shoved an empty pizza box aside and opened a new one, “You recall he also said that Azlea's fall had been slow and that she seemed to be on the cusp?”
“So she's been decaying and is nearly a demon.” Aila surmised.
“Yes, but what is more interesting is that she didn't descend right into blood lust and child sacrifice. She seems to be playing a more ambitious game and it explains Azrael's decision to remove her before she gets worse. I think even he doesn't know the true extent of her decay; but that begs a far larger question.”
“Demons can't inhabit this world without the hate, how is she able to stay here?” Gideon wondered.
“That's what I was wondering, to a tee and I have the answer.” Woolcott sat with a Cheshire cat grin while the rest of us wondered about the answer. Suddenly I had it.
“Azlea started the light and dark war. She's pushing the light, using their hate to keep herself here and from slipping out of this world.”
“Yes, that would be it exactly. Who knows how long she's been a demon, looking angelic on the outside but demonic in her core.” Woolcott sighed deeply, “There is one part that hasn't revealed itself to me yet. This war with the light users has been so successful the dark is far less numerous; with so few to oppose them how does she plan to keep the hate going against no physical threat? It's proven among people that with no present danger their ability to stay on guard degrades over time.”
We finished the pizza and wings and headed back to the common room where Seth slept still, unaware of the trouble brewing around him. Nearby on the floor lay the wounded nephilim of light, obviously battered and if he were awake, in an enormous amount of pain. Gideon slowly circled the prone figure, studying the damage I'd inflicted. I wondered how he felt about healing someone who had tried to unmake him. After studying him for perhaps five minutes Gideon gathered in the shadows and began to heal.
I walked over to the others and quietly continued the conversation we'd left behind with the empty pizza boxes. “So where does this leave us? Azlea would have been hard enough to catch as an angel, more so knowing what she really is. I can't help but think we really didn't gain anything; we're certainly no closer to finding Michael.”
“In that you are mistaken. Our light friend here will not have to answer our questions, instead he will answer to Azrael. Then he will have his answers, us having led him to Azlea, and we getting the information to find Michael or Raphael.” Woolcott shrugged his shoulders, “At least that's what I hope.”
“You think Azreal will break the bargain? I thought that was really bad for them?” Worry laced my voice, the uncertainty dancing on the shell of my serenity.
“No, it's not that. You see he didn't say we had to deliver Azlea, only to find her. I'm betting this little creature knows where she is and that, with Azreal's prodding, he'll deliver. My gamble is in the idea this will be enough.”
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