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The Turning
BARAKIEL SHOUTED with exhilaration as he hacked his way through a dense swarm of demons in pursuit of the fleeing Corrupted. Lucifer had thrown everything he had at them this turn. The dark lord must have surmised that Osmadiel’s weakened battalion was the most likely to allow a breach in the defensive lines. But he had not accounted for his son, who exploded into battle like Balance incarnate.
The other warriors caught his fire. Wordlessly, they followed him and fought as they never had before. They forced back the swarm and fell upon the Corrupted, blades flashing. Barakiel’s blue sword sliced through dark warrior after dark warrior, leaving them to be finished by his comrades as he turned Lucifer’s own strategy against him and sought to collapse his formation.
Having slaughtered his way to his goal, Barakiel saw that Osmadiel was ready. She took her squad of warriors and rushed in from the left flank, amid the ferocious din of swords meeting axes. The demons were no more than a forest of flesh to be felled. The formation would collapse at any moment. Barakiel shouted again as he leaped and spun in midair, bringing his legendary sword down to split open the skull of the dark warrior in command of Lucifer’s forces.
The battle became a rout. When it was over, the warriors assembled in the bloody aftermath. Osmadiel traveled the lines, praising her warriors for their skill. When she came to Barakiel she tilted her head, taking his measure.
“And you. Such kinetic perfection.” She leaned in close so no others would hear her. “No wonder there are those on the Council who fear you.”
Covalent City
The battalion gathered on the Great Plaza after the battle. As news spread of the most successful battle the Council Forces had waged in some time, the citizens came out to cheer and congratulate them, many pointing at Barakiel as he walked beside his fellow warriors, his armor covered in the black blood of the Corrupted. Barakiel felt proud as he walked among the fanfare.
I will show them that failure in battle is not who I am.
Warriors had fallen, but Barakiel suspected Osmadiel would hold her solemn words for later. Now, they would feast. They would revel in their skill and cleanse themselves of sadness so they could take this success into the next battle like a shield.
When the warriors were assembled and roll call had been taken, the high commander stood before them.
“Hail, warriors. This turn, we have routed Lucifer’s forces.” Osmadiel’s voice boomed through the Conduit to roll across the plaza. Her battalion roared in response. “The citizens, in their gratitude, are preparing a grand welcome home. This turn, we shall feast in the Hall of the Ancients!”
The battalion roared again before the warriors moved off to shed the stink of battle. Barakiel approached Osmadiel to take his leave.
“High commander,” he said, bowing. “I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity to redeem myself. I am in your debt.”
“Do not be ridiculous. I am in your debt, you splendid creature. You will sit by my side in the Hall of the Ancients and we will toast to the grisly pile of corpses we left behind us in the Turning.”
“With respect, high commander, I cannot. Pellus is no longer my traveler, and he is the only one who can cloak me so that I may stay longer in the Realm.”
Osmadiel blew air forcefully from her lips. “Ah, yes, the Council’s lame excuse for keeping you from us. As high commander, I give you permission to attend uncloaked. Lucifer is not going to mount an incursion this turn, not after the way you feasted on the brains of his Corrupted.”
“Ha! That is a gruesome image.”
“I have a flair for such things.” Osmadiel threw her arm around him. “Now come with me. We will send word to Remiel to join us and we will act like fools while our duty allows it.”
Table after table of eating, drinking and laughing warriors filled the cavernous Hall of the Ancients. Their joyous energy sent strokes of bold color tearing along the walls. The quickeners gathered and used that energy to produce spirited music for the feast. Sitting between Osmadiel and Remiel at the high commander’s table, Barakiel turned down yet another invitation to slip out later to the chambers of a warrior.
I wish I could tell them I belong to another.
“How many is that now, Barakiel?” Remiel asked, an impish gleam in her eye.
“I have not kept track.”
“I count eleven,” Osmadiel said. “Mostly female. I cannot understand why you did not accept that last one. She is among the most beautiful unmated warriors in the Realm.”
“That she is, high commander, but attending the feast uncloaked is one thing. I do not think even you could give me permission to remain for the purposes of a tryst.”
“Ah, such a waste,” Osmadiel said with a sigh. “But then again, rumor has it that only the Sylvan Three are good enough for you.” Remiel choked on a swig from her goblet as Osmadiel continued. “Yes. I am sure it takes all three of them to handle you.”
“I am not coupling with the Sylvan Three.”
Osmadiel’s face turned sober. “Speaking of the Three, they certainly outdid themselves when they healed you, judging from the way the power flows through you now.”
Barakiel glanced at Remiel then met Osmadiel’s gaze with a studied lack of expression.
“Yes. I am grateful beyond words.”
“Here is what I do not understand.” Osmadiel leaned in. “How was it that you entered battle in the last phase so weak you could not kill a single Corrupted? What is the explanation?”
Quashing an impulse to evade the high commander’s stare, Barakiel kept his breath even.
“Stranger still,” Osmadiel continued, “in your very next battle you deal so much death that we rout your father’s forces.” She leaned in further so she would not be overheard, her green eyes like lasers. “I can only conclude that you were severely out of Balance during our previous battle.”
Barakiel’s expression did not change.
“Were you?” she demanded.
“Yes, high commander.”
“And it was not caused by an event in the Covalent Realm?”
“No, high commander.”
“So, would you mind telling me how you lost Balance?”
“I would rather not, high commander.”
“That is unacceptable, warrior.”
“Please, high commander,” Remiel said. She reached toward Osmadiel with her hands palm up. “With the utmost respect, I ask you to forego an answer. I know why Barakiel lost Balance, and I assure you, he did not become so afflicted due to any vile purpose or action. His actions were honorable.”
Osmadiel wore a thoughtful expression as she scrutinized the battalion commander. “You must give me more assurance than that, Remiel.”
“Barakiel was defending the weak, high commander. Some men in the Earthly Realm were slaughtering innocents. He stopped them.” Remiel placed her hand on her warrior’s shoulder as Osmadiel inspected him. He held her eyes to show he had nothing to hide.
“Your commander trusts you, Barakiel. And evidently, you trust your commander.”
“With my life.”
“Lucky for you, I also trust your commander,” Osmadiel said. “I will forego the details, and your secret is safe with me. I did not get to be high commander by misjudging the quality of my warriors.”
“You honor me,” Remiel said. “I am at your disposal for anything you may need, as is Barakiel.”
“Anything you may need, high commander,” echoed Barakiel, showering her with thanks.
“Judging from the battle this turn, I need your tactical mind as well as your sword. We all do. And yes, you are welcome. Now drink up. I promise to shield you from the many warriors attempting to seduce you.”