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ERAN, LASZIO, AND JEDIAH coasted low to the ground when a thud and a groan prompted Eran to stop. Laszio’s wings had given out. “Captain, wait,” Eran called.
Down on his hands and knees, Laszio clutched his abdomen and coughed up gold between scratchy rasps. Eran pushed past his wrist sprains to lift Laszio up by the shoulders. Laszio leaned into him, limp and delirious. “Sir,” Eran said. “He can’t go any farther. Not like this.”
Jediah hurried back. Though his face was once again covered by the cloak, his exposed eyes showed concern and agitation.
Laszio jerked himself awake. “Nonsense, I can—” He lifted on one knee but promptly fell. He curled in, and his hand attempted to pinch the gash closed.
Jediah shook his head. “We have to keep moving or he’ll catch up to us.”
Eran thought back to their encounter with the scarred demon. Despite hailing from the ministry kind, he was fast, efficient, cruel. “Captain,” Eran realized, “You called him Elazar... by an angel’s name.”
Jediah’s eyebrows dipped.
Eran hesitated to ask. “Did you know him?”
“Why do you ask me this now?”
Eran flinched, startled by the sudden sharpness in Jediah’s voice.
Jediah’s gaze darted about before falling back on him. “This is not the time,” he said in a much quieter tone.
Eran nodded, accepting the answer, but in an unsettled, intimidated silence. He never knew this side of his leader existed. It stung like a slap to the cheek.
Jediah’s eyes softened. His hand rubbed his scabbard buckle as if to ease some underlying stress. “I’m sorry, Eran. I’m sorry.” Kneeling down, he gripped him by the shoulder. “Take our brother straight to the third realm while I get the others. We’ll meet you by the Crystal Sea.”
Noting the regret in his apology, Eran took his captain’s hand and gave him a smile. “Yes, brother.”
Jediah shook both his shoulders. “Stay safe.” He took off without another word, but what had transpired between them lingered behind.
Eran looked to Laszio and found him sharing the same concerned look.
***
Rain drizzled softly around Nechum and Alameth. The two rested in the silence after they had talked a while. To Nechum’s comfort, the angel of death had calmed, seeming much more at ease around him than anyone else. The coloration of his eyes returned to normal, and Nechum now understood the full message they were speaking.
“Prepare for landing!”
Nechum twisted around to see Akela skid, then tumble onto the road. Jedd, who rode his back, had jumped into a gentle breeze, and landed with all the grace Akela lacked. The two friends laughed as one helped the other off the wet ground.
Nechum laughed with them. “Are you both okay?”
Akela and Jedd grinned and stood shoulder to shoulder. “We’re fine.” Akela said as he waved an arm.
“Fit as a fiddle,” Jedd added with a thumbs up.
Jediah curved in from the sky. “There you all are,” he breathed.
Nechum’s empathic sense lurched, and he clutched his breast against the potent anguish that seized it. Searching Jediah’s eyes, he discovered they were haggard. The golds were snuffed out, and the lacquered browns were spotted black.
Jediah’s words were rushed. “Our mission’s been compromised. We have to leave now.”
Akela balked. “Compromised? How? What does that mean?”
Jediah gripped Alameth’s shoulders and lifted him to his feet. “It means, our enemies know we’re here.” He then got into Akela’s face. “Which means, we have to go.” Jediah turned to Jedd. “Sorry, I wish we could have met under better circumstances. Truly. But before we leave, we need you to analyze something for us.” He snapped his fingers and opened his palm to Akela, who promptly gave him the vial. Jediah handed the bottled ash to Jedd. “Akela says you can identify it. We need to know where it came from.”
Jedd squinted as he rolled the vial between his fingers.
Nechum watched Jediah anxiously scan the fields and wanted to shrink into himself. He seemed to expect some vicious animal.
Jedd’s mood brightened. “Ah, ha. I got it.”
“Knew you would,” Akela said, as he nudged Jedd’s arm.
“Good,” Jediah said, “So where’d it come from? Which country?”
“It’s from no country,” Jedd replied.
“Then where on earth?”
Grinning, Jedd shook his head. “It’s not from earth.” He held the bottle in front of his nose and peered closer at the specks. “This ash has the sedimental makeup of a moon from the outer rims of this solar system. The humans called it Io, and it’s one of ninety-seven moons that orbit the planet Jupiter. Volcanically active.”
“Volcanically active?” Jediah’s posture stiffened. “Wait. Do you mean to tell me it’s covered in volcanos?”
Jedd chuckled. “The entire moon.”
“But do you know which exact volcano this is from?” Jediah pressed.
Jedd frowned, and his eyebrows slanted upward. “Eruptions, earthquakes, lava flows, avalanches; Io’s landscape is in a constant state of flux. It literally never sleeps. I’m sorry to tell you this, Captain, but navigating a place like that is near impossible. Few landmarks last more than a day.”
Nechum felt woozy just thinking about such a writhing hell-bed.
Jediah rubbed his chin. “So. Malkior has become a needle hiding in the biggest haystack.”
“Well,” Akela said. “At least we know which haystack he’s hiding in.”
***
Powdered sand under Eran’s boot padded his weary feet. Eran breathed in the cleansing, scented air. The Image Bearers called it heaven. Angels called it home.
Time did not exist in the third realm, yet the sky had its phases. Human minds may not comprehend a day jeweled in midnight’s elegance nor a night as radiant as an afternoon, but it was so. For it was God’s glorious light, not a sun nor a moon, that lit the land in unending splendor. Tonight the sky hinged in a twilight unlike earth’s. Indigo, melded with velveteen violet, clothed the sky in night’s royal garb, yet no true darkness lingered. Gradient patches of dawn’s rosy yellows and baby blues swirled in pastel clouds.
Laszio clung heavily to Eran’s shoulders, but Eran didn’t mind it much. They both were below-average in height for soldiers anyway. His wings cradled him easily, but he’d carry him to Hell and back on a busted knee without wings if it came down to it. Eran didn’t want to be anywhere without him. Honestly, he didn’t even know where he’d be without Laszio’s gumption. He never seemed able to get beyond the thinking stage whenever he strategized on his own. It always took someone as small as himself, yet twice as rambunctious to spurn the confidence he so lacked for action.
Eran heard Laszio sigh—the first contented sigh he heard from him in weeks. These last few days were rough on them both, after all. Carrying him to the nearest stone, he used his wings to lower Laszio onto a comfortable spot.
He checked Laszio’s gash. Around the wound’s edges, the faintest golden flickers worked in slow repair. They plinked with a light tinkling sound like chips of broken glass fixing themselves in reverse. The gash indeed had shrunk a bit, unassisted, but now that Laszio was home, the process would surely hasten.
Eran sat down beside Laszio to take in the view while he rested. The Crystal Sea lapped the pearled shores in lulling tones. With starlight in every drop, its tiny waves peaked with diamond crests that sprayed glittering colors whenever they clashed against the beach, yet the main body of water itself laid still, smooth as a silken mirror.
Eran attempted to unwrap his wrist straps. He tried picking at the first fastener knot, but to even loosen one loop fired up his sprains. He bit down on his lip, determined to continue tugging the tie inches at a time.
Laszio’s hands cupped his. With a light touch, he pinched the leather ties and pulled the ends apart. Eran hissed through his teeth but relaxed the second the stiff wrist brace no longer pressured the cramps. Laszio then uncoiled the second wrap.
“Thanks,” Eran replied. He stood up and walked to the water.
“Don’t mention it,” Laszio said.
Eran’s knees sank into sand as white as a fresh blanket of snow. A few grains slipped into his boots and massaged his shins. He dipped his wrists into the cool waters as they rose and fell. Their healing purity seeped into his soaking hands.
Eran gazed left, up the highest hill to the golden city. Long had the Trinitarian God prepared it. New Jerusalem, the soon to be capital of a new heaven and earth, was the first fruits of the Saved’s inheritance. This perfect jewel, fastened atop a gardened mountain, gleamed with a gold so purified it was transparent as glass. It outsized a continent, with its dazzling towers pointed high like hands of praise. The River of Life, which fed the Crystal Sea, flowed along the paths into its twelve gates, and the highest Citadel, God’s Temple, crowned it with His richest glory. Even from that distance, Eran could hear the multitudes in song that rejoiced within. The city yet waited for the full number of its citizens to come.
Eran drew his wrists from the lapping waves. They were dry and quite restored, save for a stubborn kink that had yet to sort out. Memory of the injury linked back to the scarred demon and Jediah’s troubling behavior. Eran frowned. Anger, worry, confusion all tugged him around till he was lost, not knowing what to think or how to feel about it.
Determined to clear his mind, Eran cupped the jeweled waters and took a drink. He then splashed his face. The water shimmered particles that moisturized his cheeks. Then he combed his wetted fingers through his black hair.
“Got some leftover for me?” Laszio asked in good humor.
Eran chuckled. “One second.” Opening his wings, he flew inland to the closest tree. Its silver bark reflected its fluttering, orange leaves that were forever caught in the painted fires of Fall. Eran’s eyes traced an emerald ivy vine that rose to the highest branches. There, he spotted the tree’s largest lilies. Their petals of mother-of-pearl cast pale hints of blue, pink, and green. Selecting one, Eran flew back to the shore and dipped it into the sea.
He walked it back to Laszio, careful not to spill, then trickled drops out of the cupped petals into Laszio’s open wound. Laszio winced, but the final space in the shrinking gash zipped closed.
Eran offered him the flower cup. “Here.” As Laszio took the first gentle sips, Eran returned to the sea to soak his wrists again. After considerable silence, Eran still obsessed over the events from less than an hour before.
“I’m worried about Jediah, too,” Laszio finally said.
Eran froze but then acted unaware of his friend as he tended to his hands.
“We need to do something,” Laszio persisted.
Eran sighed in frustration. “Laszio, don’t.”
“What?”
“You know ‘what’.” Eran shot him a warning look over his shoulder. “Your invasive meddling.”
“It’s not meddling It’s an intervention.”
“An intervention Jediah doesn’t want.” Eran twisted around to better face Laszio.
“Interventions aren’t wanted. They’re needed,” Laszio argued. “You saw that look on his face, Eran. He’s hurt and scared. More than he’s ever been in his life. I know you feel it as I do.” Laszio rubbed a hand over his chest where a human heart would be.
Eran shook his head. “Whatever Elazar is or was to Jediah is none of our business.”
“That demon has blown our cover, Eran. As far as I see it, he’s made himself very much our business.”
Eran stood up but failed to find a counter argument.
Laszio tipped his head and cocked his eyebrow. The one braided lock of hair, the one meant to match Eran’s as a symbol of their bond, swung freely.
Indignant, Eran crossed his arms. “We don’t really know what’s going on, Laszio. Elazar might be an exceptionally strong opponent, and nothing more. And even if Jediah is locked in an old grudge match with him, what could we possibly do about it?”
Laszio leaned forward with that usual fire in his eyes that so often motivated Eran to do anything. “Keep Elazar as far from our captain as possible. Put an end to his menace.”
“You know perfectly well we can’t kill him, Laszio. What we are cannot be vanquished but by God alone. He’ll just keep coming back.”
“Then we don’t let up!” Laszio retorted. “We just keep knocking Elazar down as many times as it takes. We can’t let this go, Eran. Lucifer hired that demon on purpose.”
“What makes you think that?”
Laszio huffed. “Are you seriously telling me that Jediah and Elazar’s confrontation was a coincidence?”
Eran couldn’t respond.
Irritated, Laszio rolled his head. “Oh, come on, Eran! Read the signs! It was a set up! All of it! You don’t expect me to believe someone as smart as you didn’t figure that out.”
Eran’s eyes closed. He suspected it, but didn’t want to admit it—especially when he was the one who convinced Jediah into helping Jedd fight that storm. “Yes,” he sighed. “Yes, we were baited.”
Laszio gave a solemn nod. “Exactly, and this Elazar? Lucifer called him in for one reason and one alone: to destroy our captain, and I hate to admit this, Eran, but... I think he possibly could.” Wings drooped, Laszio turned his gaze toward the alabaster pebbles by his feet, and for a moment, only the tender surf had a voice. “Jediah has done so much for us, Eran... so much. So stopping Elazar isn’t something I feel we should try. It’s something we must do... or at least... that’s what I must do.”
Struck by the sincerity in his best friend’s words, Eran stared at his wrists and re-lived the battle. Elazar, this new enemy, was practiced, swift, and powerful. He had Jediah at his mercy and decommissioned both of them in seconds. What else was such an enemy capable of?
“Besides.” Laszio’s tone dipped dark and deep. “I don’t think we’ll have much choice in the matter.”
Eran’s energy pounded in his chest.
“Elazar is hunting us,” Laszio pointed out. “And he’s going to haunt our every step until he gets Jediah, whether we like it or not.”
Eran scowled and balled his hands into fists. “Then by God’s grace, he won’t get far.”
***
Elazar stood on a fallen maple covered in wood chips. He chuckled at Captain Zivel, who limped up from behind. “You look gorgeous.”
Despite missing a quarter of his face, Zivel had recovered enough of his mouth to manage a grotesque snarl. “Need I remind you that you failed too?” he slurred.
Elazar fingered the hilt of his dagger. “And yet neither you nor your troops could stomp two of Jediah’s boot lickers as I instructed.” He turned to him. Rage narrowed his working eye. “What part of ‘lead Jediah to me’ meant blast him out of the sky?”
Zivel lengthened his back and puffed his splintered chest to emphasize his superior height. “You know full well I was more than capable of handling him myself.”
“All evidence to the contrary.” Elazar motioned a hand over the carnage Jediah’s lightning inflicted on Zivel. He then laughed and shook his head. “Zivel, your blinding ego is twice as comical as I remembered. You always were the most unbearably pompous of my associates when we ruled the southern regions. Now that inflated, entitlement of yours turned you from a big ham to a meat-headed dullard.”
“Why you!” Zivel threw a punch.
Elazar leaned. Still missing most of his right side, Zivel hit the ground face first, and Elazar shook his head at such a disgraceful, sloppy effort. “And to think I actually helped you become a god those bloodthirsty Aztecs could worship.”
Zivel roared, jumped up, and charged again. This time, Elazar dodged and slashed with his knife twice. His skill sheared off Zivel’s nose yet spared the eye.
Crumbling, Zivel screamed foul curses and covered his face. He then spun around, and with his crimson energy dripping down his mouth and chin like magma, he sputtered drops as he spat. “Our Master, Lucifer, shall hear of your insolence!”
Rolling his eye, Elazar made a miffed chortle. He shifted his focal energy from his chest to his hands, and he launched shields to strap Zivel down. They arched his back over a fallen tree trunk like a human sacrifice tied to a pagan altar.
Leaning into his face, Elazar’s empathic sense trembled with excitement at the raw panic it drank in. He forced Zivel to stare into his ruined eye. “Now get this straight,” he growled. “Lucifer is not my master. No one is. And you? You’re just a loudmouth bug.”
Elazar plunged his knife in deep. Zivel’s opened mouth stayed silent, unable to elicit any scream to justify. Going off ancient memory, Elazar pictured the demon as a mortal, one the likes of which those puny, sinful humans once sacrificed to him ages before. He carved a sizable cavity where the human heart would be. Warm liquid stained the knife’s hilt and seeped between his fingers as he submerged the dagger further. He yanked it out. Red speckled his face, and a thick drop hit the corner of his lip.
Elazar licked it. The hot, crisp flavor of energy hummed down his throat. He imagined Jediah’s taste upon his tongue next.
***
Jediah sought immediate solitude. The only trouble in heaven for an angel were the troubles they brought with them, and he didn’t want his plaguing the others—not after such a harrowing experience. He needed time alone. In prayer. Just him and his King. He must sort this out... for everyone’s sake.
Jediah hid himself beneath the orange dome of a towering tree. Rich light filtered through the leaves like stained glass in his sanctuary. Preparing himself to speak to the Lord from a genuine place, Jediah finally let the grief in. He unbuckled his sword. It fell several feet, clattering down the limbs. His shoulders drooped under the weight of his own feathers—each quill a stone. He had his unfurled wings wrap himself in a blanket of soft down and lay back to nestle his head against the trunk.
“My Lord and my God,” he began. Jediah swallowed. His chin quivered, and he covered his eyes as they began to sting.
He didn’t know what to say.