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Covalent City
THE BATTALION DISPERSED across the Great Plaza after the roll call that concluded its tour of duty in the Turning. Barakiel and Remiel walked off together, talking about the recently ended battle. No Corrupted had appeared. They surmised that because the dark warriors’ every attempt to kill Barakiel had failed, Lucifer had pulled them until he could come up with a different approach.
Yes, father. How many of your lackeys have I killed now? How it must rankle you.
The citizens walking on the plaza greeted the warriors and thanked them for protecting the Realm. Starstruck, they stared at Barakiel.
“I should stop being seen in public with you,” Remiel said. “It is giving me a complex.”
“I will be out of your hair soon enough,” Barakiel said, chuckling. “If only I knew where Pellus is. He is usually here, near this monument to the Guardians.”
A young apprentice traveler approached, marked by his green robes. “Excuse me, warriors, I am Roan. I have been sent by Pellus to fetch Barakiel. Pellus requires your presence in the Council Chamber, sir.”
“Well, then. As always, Remiel, it was a pleasure and an honor to fight by your side.”
“The privilege was mine.” The warriors grasped each other’s shoulders before Barakiel walked off with the young traveler.
“So, what is this about, Roan?” Barakiel asked.
“I have no idea, sir. Pellus sent for me and told me to fetch you.”
“He is a mysterious fellow, that Pellus.”
“He is a very powerful traveler. We all wish to be like him.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
When Barakiel and Roan reached the terrace outside the Council Chamber, it was filled with travelers of various ranks. Barakiel had never seen so many in one place. They conversed in an animated fashion, the Stream flashing sapphire over their heads. Pellus emerged from a crowd and pulled Barakiel aside.
“I have some wonderful news for you. You will be able to stay much longer in the Covalent Realm from this day forward.”
“What? How? Has the Council gotten over its paranoia?”
“Ha! No. I have devised a method.” Pellus explained that with the help of other traveler adepts, he had learned how to cloak the appearance and the energy signal of the Covalent. It had taken them a long time to create a cloaking structure stable enough to last, and it would take an enormous amount of mental effort to sustain it, but Pellus thought he was ready to try. He said the technique had been explained to the Council, and that Barakiel need only request permission to use it. Barakiel could then stay in the Realm for several turns beyond his battles or his time with the healers. Lucifer would not be able to detect him.
When Pellus had finished, Barakiel regarded him sternly. “Why did you not tell me about this? If you think this will keep me away from Zan, you are mistaken.”
“That is your reaction? I am quite stunned. I thought you would be pleased.”
“I would have been greatly pleased only a short time ago, but I cannot help but view your timing as suspect.”
Pellus sighed. “Barakiel, the other adepts and I have been working on this for phases. I did not tell you of our project sooner because I did not know if it would succeed and I did not want to disappoint you. I admit, I will be pleased if it keeps you away from this woman, but I cannot influence you. All I can do is give you other options.”
“Is that why you told me I should prepare to be away from home for more than the two turns of my battle? You thought I would be so excited.”
“I wanted to make you happy. I am disappointed I did not succeed.”
Barakiel studied his face. Inscrutable, as usual. But Pellus had never lied to him. Neglected to tell him things, perhaps, but never lied to him.
“What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice a little softer.
“Come with me before the Council and request that I utilize this technique. We should not delay.” Barakiel assented and they approached the great doors.
The request turned out to be an empty formality. The Council wanted Barakiel to fight more, and to remain longer in the Covalent Realm so he could meet with the commanders. Despite his father’s failures in having him killed, Lucifer had been slowly but surely outwitting the Council Forces. Some commanders thought he would have gained the city gates already if the Corrupted were not so seriously outnumbered. They wanted Barakiel to remain in the Realm so he could meet with them the following turn, over the vesper meal, though no one explained what they expected of him.
As he and Pellus descended to the Great Plaza, Barakiel could not help but feel a bitter amusement.
They exiled me because they feared the power of Lucifer inside me. Now they fear it is the only power that can withstand him.
In the Council Chamber, Pellus had begun to use his technique. The Council members applauded when Barakiel transformed into another Covalent before their eyes. Even more amazing, the vibrant energy that hummed through him at all times was suddenly hidden. When he and Pellus reached the plaza, the citizens no longer stared at Barakiel. They hardly noticed him, directing their respectful greetings to the traveler adept instead. To them, he appeared as a lesser warrior, the kind of Covalent whose duty might be to police the city.
Barakiel thought about the pro forma nature of his request. He realized its timing had been dictated by the Council. He felt ashamed that he had questioned Pellus’ motives.
“I am sorry that I accused you of using your announcement today to keep me from Zan,” he said. “And I want you to know this does make me happy. Extremely happy. I can get to know the other warriors better now, after having fought beside them for so long. I did not mean to denigrate your accomplishment. It is simply amazing. I should trust you, Pellus. You have always been there for me.”
Pellus stopped walking and stared at him, blinking. Barakiel stared back.
Is he getting emotional? Well, that’s a first.
“I want to always be there for you,” Pellus said. “I am the only one who understands how difficult your life has been, what it has taken for you to bear it. I am the only one who understands how well and honorably you have done so.”
This time it was Barakiel who became emotional, and he was far less able to hide it. He grabbed Pellus in a vigorous hug.
“What in all the realms has gotten into you?” Pellus protested, looking around. A lesser warrior would not bear hug an adept.
“You must know I consider you family, Pellus,” Barakiel said. “You must meet Zan. I have told her about you. How you were my mother’s friend. How you looked after me. You are the only family I have.”
Pellus looked stricken and touched at the same time. He sighed. “Very well. I will meet your human. I must admit, I am curious to meet the woman who could so enthrall the mighty Barakiel.”
The warrior erupted in a laugh filled to brimming with joy, such was his surprise that the adept had agreed. “You will see, Pellus. When you meet her, you will understand.”
The adept gazed at him for a pulse or two, his expression unreadable. “Come along now, Rainer,” he said, surprising Barakiel by using his earthly name. Pellus explained there were rooms he could use close to where Pellus lived with his mate, Jeduthan. Barakiel said he looked forward to seeing Jeduthan again. He had visited with her only a handful of times across the endless turning.
“She will be happy to see you as well,” Pellus said.
The commanders had arranged for the vesper meal to be served in the lesser dining room of the Keep. Barakiel tried not to gape at the splendor as Remiel introduced him. He wondered what the greater dining room was like if this was the lesser. The walls were covered in diamonds. They sparkled in the gentle twilight that seeped in through the narrow windows. Three columns of obsidian speared down from the ceiling, their points shooting pale pink light onto a snow-white marble table set with simple black plates. Luminous gray orbs were stacked in pyramids along the center of the table, small sculptures created by some quickener.
They must dine this way all the time. I highly doubt this is for me.
Barakiel sat at Remiel’s right hand. She had briefed him before they arrived. This meeting with the twelve battalion commanders had been convened at the request of the High Command, three Warriors of the Rising who made most decisions regarding the war subject to the authority of the Council. From their absence, Barakiel could only assume they did not waste their time with low-level meetings.
Remiel had also warned him he would be questioned about his time in the Destructive Realm when he’d tried to save his mother. No other warrior had spent so much time in Lucifer’s savage kingdom.
After Barakiel escaped his father those many phases ago, the Council debriefed him, asking a thousand questions. For the most part, he dutifully answered. In return for his candor, the Council banished him. Now, it wished to open his wounds and watch him bleed. Again. Though he’d tried to hide these sour thoughts from Remiel, she knew him too well.
“I know this will be difficult, Barakiel,” she’d said, “but the surest way to end your exile is to make yourself indispensable.”
Aside from the fact that Zan made him happy in exile, Barakiel doubted Remiel was correct. Banishment was too effective a means of control.
As the kitchen artisans served the food, Barakiel surveyed the commanders. They chatted and stuffed their faces with tarim bread, a delicious concoction that seemed fluffy and inconsequential, but was filled with nutrients. He stole glances at Kalaziel, the tawny-haired commander Remiel said would question him. Possessed of a sunny charisma, she could pull more from her warriors than they knew they had. She was also among the handful of commanders Remiel counted as friends.
All of the commanders were competent. The High Command would quickly relieve them of duty if they were not.
The artisans proudly rolled out dish after dish, most of which Barakiel hadn’t tasted in an age. They ladled out belnen, a glowing orange soup that made him feel alert, cooked from a fungus that grew on the underside of rocks. They served hunks of roasted meat cut from the haunches of chukka beasts, Wasteland creatures the size of a three-story building, fierce enough that the hunter warriors could rarely kill them. The meat came with the pickled bark of azum, trees so black and gnarled that a human would place them in a Halloween landscape, rather than think to harvest them.
Whatever happens, at least I will have had this feast. I miss Covalent food.
While they ate, the commanders asked Barakiel about his exploits on the battlefield, and what it was like to be cloaked. They asked him nothing about the Earthly Realm, which surprised him. When they had finished eating and sat sipping their root wine, Kalaziel began the questioning in earnest.
“Barakiel, our main reason for inviting you here was to ask you about your journey to the Destructive Realm.”
“Yes, my commander informed me.”
“Good.” Kalaziel’s warm caramel eyes lit up with her smile. He could see why they had chosen her to question him.
“During your debriefing, you said that Lucifer has a Keep. How did you find your way there?”
“My father’s realm is disorienting. I found my way because he wanted me to, though I did not realize this at the time. I have no idea how he accomplished this.” Barakiel wished he had a better answer. “When I escaped, I stumbled upon the edge of his realm and I followed it, using it to keep me from going in circles. At the edge, I could feel the energy of the Turning enough to move toward it. I was in a blind terror, and faster than my pursuers.”
“You say the Destructive Realm is disorienting. Explain this, please.”
“Nothing is fixed. Or rather, it does not seem to be. To journey there is to feel like you are falling and shifting when you are not. Sometimes, you can see a landmark, such as a mountain or a lake, but a moment later it may disappear. I cannot say I understand, but I do not think the mountains or the lakes actually disappeared. I think they moved, or the land moved. Sometimes, the ground would tremble and demons would rise up from the soil, vast fields of them. When they had separated themselves, the landscape would shift again.”
“The demons did not attack you?”
“No. I assume it was because my father was calling to them.”
“Perhaps you should tell us how you came to be in the Destructive Realm, for the commanders who may not be well acquainted with the story.”
Barakiel gripped the tops of his knees under the table.
As if any of them are not well acquainted with the story.
A long time had passed since he’d spoken of these events. He wished he could say a long time had passed since he’d thought of them.
“I went to the Destructive Realm to rescue my mother. I thought she needed me.” He sipped his root wine, not wanting his voice to betray his emotion. Remiel shifted uncomfortably beside him. When he did not speak right away, Kalaziel prompted him.
“If you could expound on that, please.”
Gripping his knees tightly enough to cause pain, he resumed.
“After Lucifer was driven from the Realm, my mother pleaded with the Council for leave to raise me. Because she had powerful allies, we were left alone, but most members of the Council treated her like a criminal, her every move watched, her duty taken from her.”
Bitterness had crept into his voice. He closed his eyes to calm himself.
“Yahoel left when it became clear I could take care of myself. She went to her mate. I was not surprised. She and my father had bonded in Union. She must have suffered every turn she was away from him, and there was nothing left for her here.
“Several phases after she left I received a message from her. She asked for my help. She told me my father was hurting her.” He drew his hands into his lap and looked down at them. “I should have been suspicious. I actually thought I could rescue her.”
The commanders silently waited for him to continue. When he looked up, some showed compassion in their eyes. This surprised him.
“She did not want to be rescued. When I made my way to her chambers, she welcomed me. She said welcome home. A few pulses later my father entered the room. I knew she had betrayed me.”
“I am sorry,” Kalaziel murmured. “Your father. Was he much changed from when you had seen him as a child?”
Barakiel stayed silent with his head down for a few pulses.
How can I tell them about Lucifer? No matter what I say, they will not understand. Not fully.
“Yes, he had changed. It was more than his loss of Balance. His energy felt different. Hungry, virulent. His skin was pale, and his eyes—” Barakiel took a few breaths before he faced Kalaziel again. “They held the same sharp intelligence, but also a terrifying emptiness. Not an absence. More an emptiness that devours everything it encounters. As soon as I saw him I knew my mother had been devoured.”
When Barakiel resumed speaking, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I could feel it. He influenced her mind.”
“Did he try to influence your mind?” Kalaziel asked.
“You know very well that he did. I told the Council all this when I first returned.”
I can never tell them how he seeks me still. How I can hear his voice when I am weak. When I fall into self-pity. Not even Pellus knows.
“How is it then, that he did not succeed?”
“Is that the point of this gathering?” Barakiel leaned forward in his seat. “To probe my loyalty?”
Kalaziel slid her eyes to Remiel, who answered him. “Yes, warrior. If you are to participate in our tactical meetings, even in a limited way, you must be vetted.”
Barakiel glanced at his commander.
No doubt the High Command ordered her not to tell me. They wanted to see my unvarnished reaction.
“I do not know how he failed to influence me. Perhaps you should ask one better versed in these matters. Perhaps someone who has not been exiled to the Earthly Realm for an age.”
“This is necessary, warrior,” Remiel said, obviously not amused by his remark. He glanced at her again, then focused on the diamond-encrusted walls.
“My mother was Lucifer’s mate in Union,” Barakiel said, not even bothering now to keep the pain from his voice. “Their minds had become one. She must have opened herself to him. They had a special bond.”
“You are their progeny,” Kalaziel insisted. “You must also have a special bond.”
“I had a special bond with my mother.” Barakiel spoke slowly, enunciating his words as he raised his chin to glare at Kalaziel. He freed his anger. His hatred. “He took her from me.”
You think I would spy for him? He murdered my mother. He abused me, and I have been paying for his treachery my entire life.
“He had no special bond with the Corrupted, yet he controls them,” said Praviel, the newest battalion commander, a thick-set warrior given to festooning his robes with absurdly ornate brooches. According to Remiel, Praviel had objected vociferously when the High Command suggested Barakiel participate in tactical meetings.
An ally of Abraxos.
The other commanders seemed surprised that Praviel had spoken. Kalaziel threw him a deadly look, but he charged on.
“Many of us knew the Corrupted before the rebellion. They were arrogant and power mad like your father, but they were hardly the aberrations they are now. How is it that he could poison their minds so thoroughly, yet his own son emerged from his lair unscathed?”
The glare Barakiel turned on Praviel was so filled with venom that the commander blanched.
“Willingness,” Barakiel said. “And loyalty. These warriors admired my father. Loved him even, when they were still capable. When they fled to the Destructive Realm to escape the Council Forces, its poison must have begun to work on them all.”
“They were like your father? Filled with that same hungry emptiness?” Kalaziel asked.
“No. They had been devoured, like my mother. My father was different. He bent the emptiness to his will.” Fear washed through Barakiel along with his memories. Sweat rose on his skin. “He is the one who devours.”
Kalaziel scrutinized him for a moment.
“And we are left to wonder still,” she said, “why he did not succeed in devouring you.”
“The Council believes my father seeks my death or enslavement because one day I could challenge him.” Barakiel sipped his root wine, focusing on the garnet color tilting in the crystal goblet as he weighed his words.
“Perhaps the same quality of mind that allowed Lucifer to become the Lord of Destruction resides in me.” He straightened and scanned the table before he met Kalaziel’s gaze. “But I serve Balance, and I serve the Realm. If you are not convinced of that by now, words are not going to convince you.”
The commanders exchanged glances. Barakiel caught Remiel’s eye. She was plainly angry, but he did not think her anger was for him.
Grimacing, Kalaziel flicked her head as if to shake away unpleasant thoughts. She took a swallow of her root wine. “He wanted that quality of mind. He wanted you as his ally,” she said.
“Yes, I believe so. He offered me his power. I played along until I had the chance to escape.”
“Why did he not sense your subterfuge?”
“He did sense my subterfuge. I was never alone. He waited for the power of Destruction to creep into my mind, to make me vulnerable. Like my mother. Like the Corrupted. He wanted to devour me. It did not happen. I was grieving for my mother, a vicious, biting pain. I think it saved me. You must understand, its origin was love.” Barakiel tried to remain impassive, but he knew his eyes betrayed him.
“How did you manage to escape?” Kalaziel’s voice had grown gentle.
She believes me. I wonder if the others do.
“At that age, Lucifer underestimated me. He left me in the custody of Zadkiel, a Corrupted. I killed him.”
“I remember Zadkiel,” said Hagith, one of the oldest commanders, who had not stopped chewing his lip and glaring at Praviel until that moment. “A skilled and fearless fighter, but treacherous. He would undermine his fellow warriors to gain the commanders’ favor.”
“He gained my father’s favor. He was among the three Corrupted my father chose to implement his commands.”
Kalaziel spoke in a faraway voice. “A High Command of Destruction.”
“A poor imitation,” Barakiel said, shifting in his seat. “They may have dared to offer their opinion occasionally, but my father’s control was absolute. I think the only one he ever listened to was Melembec.”
“Yes. You said during your debriefing that Melembec was one of the leaders,” Kalaziel continued. “The Council thought he had been killed.”
“His mate saved him. Razael, the third Corrupted in Lucifer’s twisted High Command. She dragged Melembec from the battlefield. The two of them, uh, they are disgusting.” Barakiel gulped some root wine, then coughed. He began to breathe heavily.
“Are you all right?” Remiel asked. He managed to nod.
“You told the debriefers you had spent time with Melembec and Razael, but you refused to say anything further. Why is that?” Kalaziel asked.
“It was too painful.”
“I am sorry, Barakiel, but you are going to have to tell us about it now.”
Remiel placed her hand on his arm. She didn’t know this story, but he was glad of her touch as he prepared to speak. He told himself this was his duty, that he had no choice. He kept his eyes fixed on his deep red wine.
Speak calmly, in a strong clear voice.
“My father left me with them. They would bind me. Melembec would rape me while Razael watched. Or he would penetrate her while she put her mouth on me. I could not control myself.”
Barakiel struggled to keep his voice even. Although it had taken a long time, he’d made peace with his trauma. He tried not to think about it, but now that they’d forced him to, he felt the bindings cutting into his flesh. He felt the powerlessness and pain as he heard Melembec’s grunts. The shame when Razael made him respond, made him give her that part of himself.
If I can give that to Zan, only to Zan, every time I love her I will be cleansed.
A few of the commanders curled their lips in revulsion. The Covalent were especially repelled by such violence.
“I am sure Lucifer gave them leave to do that to me,” Barakiel said. “He sought to break me. He did not succeed.”
Let this teach them even more that I would never serve my father.