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Covalent City
THE COMMANDERS SAT at the massive table in the black and emerald Nexus staring at Barakiel as if they didn’t know quite what to do with him. He had fought in back-to-back battles for Remiel and Osmadiel, two battles in which the Corrupted had not appeared. This made it easy for him. He’d slaughtered demons with such inspired ferocity that it surprised even the ancient High Command.
Everyone at that table knew a warrior like Barakiel would normally be given his own battalion, but this was impossible. And perhaps the reason they regarded him with such perplexed expressions.
“Well, Barakiel,” Osmadiel said. “Once again, my warriors were honored to have fought beside you. I have not seen such a mound of stinking demon flesh in an age.”
“The honor is mine, high commander. I am learning how to work with your warriors. Our battlefield communication is improving. I think that was the key to the success of our plan.”
“Yes, it does take time,” Camael said. “And because Barakiel cannot be in every battalion at once, I would like to discuss how other units may be able to implement the same plan. You described it before as a ‘curling wedge,’ warrior. Could you explain that?”
“The warriors form a wedge with the strongest among them at the tip,” Barakiel said. “The wedge cleaves the horde in two, then begins to spread outward and curl up at the ends as lines surge inward from the flanks. When the different lines converge, the demons are bottled up. They must flee the way they have come, or be surrounded. Communication is crucial because the timing is different for each battle. If executed poorly, the tactic can leave warriors surrounded.”
“I understand,” Camael said. “High risk and high reward.”
“I do not think this would work at all with the Corrupted,” Galizur said. Barakiel tamped down the dirty look that fought to get onto his face.
I hate to admit when you are right, Galizur, because you are such an asshole.
“This is true,” Barakiel said. “I am sure Lucifer has tried to school his demons to avoid this trap, but they are too stupid to listen. The Corrupted fell before this tactic once. I do not think it will work a second time.”
“We will need ever-changing patterns to throw at them,” Camael said. “Barakiel, you seem to have a talent for it. Going forward, you will attend each meeting of the commanders to discuss such things.”
So this was the origin of the earlier perplexed looks? Barakiel almost laughed at the absurdity.
They want me to act like a commander, but without warriors. They want me here more and more but dare not end my exile.
With the danger of laughter over, Barakiel delivered the required words. “I do not know what to say, high commanders. You honor me.”
“We may also need to add another battalion to the list of those with whom you fight,” Osmadiel said. “Our forces still suffer heavy casualties and you have become much more than a potent sword. Your defiance of your father has become a source of hope that helps the warriors in their grief.”
“I will do whatever you need me to do.”
“With all respect, high commander, how much can we expect from him?” Remiel said. “No other warrior is required to shoulder back-to-back tours in the Turning or to switch from battalion to battalion. Fatigue and unfamiliarity could undermine his effectiveness.”
Osmadiel nodded, but from the look she gave Remiel she did not expect further protest.
“Barring some unforeseen circumstance, we will not require Barakiel to fight back to back again, but he will rotate into your battalion less often. He will fight more than other warriors, but nothing unreasonable. We will give him time to rest, and to meet his tactical responsibilities.”
“Given all this, the Council should end Barakiel’s exile,” Remiel said.
“That is not going to happen,” Galizur said. Barakiel kept his expression carefully neutral, but for once he was happy to hear the fool.
My exile is now my happiness.
“We understand we are asking a lot of your warrior, Remiel,” Osmadiel said, as Camael nodded in agreement. “Is there anything we can do to make your duties less burdensome, Barakiel?”
“Yes, there is, in fact. Allow me to have Pellus as my traveler again.”
“Absolutely not,” Galizur said. “Pellus does whatever he wants. We need someone who obeys Covalent Law to serve as your traveler.”
“Pellus is the only traveler who can cloak me. Right now, I am nearly at the end of the time I am permitted to remain in the Covalent Realm without his assistance,” Barakiel said. “More important, the autumnal equinox is approaching in the Earthly Realm. For many earthly centuries, Pellus has concealed my battles with the demons there. The complexity of modern human society makes it anything but a simple proposition. Do we really want another traveler attempting this? Does the Council relish the humans detecting a Covalent engaged in a fight to the death with a dozen demons in the middle of a city?”
“That would not be good,” Camael said, frowning.
“An adept can handle it,” Galizur said. “Pellus is not the only talented traveler we have.”
“But Pellus is the only traveler with experience performing this particular task,” Osmadiel said. “I am willing to ask the Council on your behalf, Barakiel.”
Camael said he was willing as well. Galizur was outvoted.
“Thank you, high commanders. I will be of most use to you with Pellus as my traveler.”
The commanders discussed the logistics of this request, and decided sooner was better than later, considering the Council was in session above them as they spoke.
“Barakiel, go inform Pellus and wait with him at his chambers. We will notify you through the Conduit,” Remiel said. “He can cloak you while you wait.”
“Yes, commander.” Barakiel rose, bowed, and took his leave.
As he ascended the stone steps to the chambers where Pellus lived with Jeduthan, Barakiel tried to clear his agitated mind. Mates tell each other everything, which meant Jeduthan knew what Barakiel had said about her, that she was subservient and would betray Pellus if pressed, a terrible insult. Barakiel was not sure she would permit him to remain in her home.
What’s more, he could no longer avoid telling Pellus about Archibaud and the French police. Barakiel tried to distract himself with the beautiful installations of light and color the quickeners had placed among the structures piled upon the hill, but he could not stop his thoughts.
He knocked when he reached their heavy door. Pellus opened it and invited him inside with no trace of nervousness.
But then again, no one can ever tell when Pellus is nervous.
Jeduthan came out of the inner chamber shortly afterward. She greeted Barakiel civilly, which surprised him. At the site of her, he blurted out a frenetic apology. He told her about his terrible fear that something would happen to the woman he loved. How he grew angry and it made him stupid and unreasonable. And certainly, he did not mean what he’d said. It had nothing to do with her at all. He was trying to hurt Pellus. He’d wanted to hurt Pellus.
“I know, Barakiel.” Jeduthan smiled, perfectly calm. “I am happy that you apologized, and I accept. Pellus did not behave in his usual self-controlled manner, either.” Jeduthan grasped his hand. “Your situation is so difficult. The least we can do is offer you understanding. We are your friends.”
Blinking back tears, Barakiel kissed Jeduthan’s hand.
“I am the luckiest among Covalent, to have such friends,” he said. “Without Pellus I would be dead, and I am not only referring to the Corrupted. I would have met the Stream long ago without him. You are him and he is you. I am devoted to you both.”
“We know, Barakiel.” She squeezed his hand.
“I am glad you have come here,” Pellus said. “Now, everything is right between us. Do I need to cloak you?”
“Yes, Pellus. And as good as it was to offer that much-needed apology, there is another reason for my visit. I have persuaded the High Command to ask the Council to return you to your duties as my traveler. They will summon us when the Council has made its decision.”
“Excellent! Nothing persuades in the Covalent Realm like a mighty sword,” Pellus said.
“And few are more persuasive than yours,” Jeduthan said.
“I would venture to say none are,” Pellus added. “Let me cloak you. We will enjoy some spirits until we are summoned.”
The three friends sat drinking and discussing Jeduthan’s latest project to produce an updated history of the Artisans’ Guild. As Jeduthan and Pellus began to gossip about the sexual antics of a few warriors they knew, Barakiel stole looks at Pellus and turned away quickly when the adept met his eyes. He rubbed his forearm.
“My friend, you are telegraphing so much anxiety that I hardly need to rely on that little tell you have with your arm,” Pellus said. “What in all the realms is the matter with you?”
Barakiel took a deep breath. He considered his approach. “Uh, have I told you that Zan is good at her job?”
“Why are you saying this to me?” Pellus spoke in a wary voice.
“She found Archibaud, and he has told the French police about the false monks. Essentially, he gave them the same information he gave to us.”
Pellus raised his hands to his forehead, leaned back and groaned. “Demon take the FBI!” he said. Jeduthan gaped at him. “Did he tell them we were there?” he asked, shooting up off his seat.
“No. At least we can be thankful for that bit of good fortune.”
“Good fortune that will no doubt be very short lived!” Pellus rushed around in a circle. “As soon as the police find that compound, seemingly deserted in mid-meal, as soon as they find those repulsive films and photographs, they will question him again. Ah, this is terrible.”
Jeduthan went to him. She caressed his face. “Beloved, I have rarely seen you so distressed.” Pellus hugged her.
“I am all right, beloved, but this could turn into a serious problem.”
“I think you are overreacting,” Barakiel said. “How could they possibly find us even if they obtain a description? We did not arrive there by any human conveyance. We have no earthly connection to those monks.”
Disentangling himself from Jeduthan, Pellus took a step toward Barakiel and fixed him with a furious glare.
“Have I told you that Zan is good at her job?”
Barakiel could not help but laugh. “Yes. Zan will know instantly,” he said. “But she loves me, so there is that.”
“Yes, she does,” Pellus said. He gave Barakiel a look so mournful that the smile died on his face.
He knows I will tell her everything.
“Please do not worry,” Barakiel said. “If Zan confronts me, I will deny it. She cannot prove anything.”
Pellus retained his mournful look as Jeduthan rubbed his back.
“I think you are disingenuous, saying that to us, warrior,” Jeduthan said. “You are trying to reassure Pellus, but we all know you would never sincerely talk about Zan in that manner.”
Barakiel lowered his eyes. “No. I would not.”
“All right,” she said. “Let us forget these high emotions and solve the problem. My brilliant Pellus, I know if you give it but a moment’s thought, you will see the solution. What does Archibaud have to gain by telling the police about your visit? What might he gain by keeping his mouth shut?”
With a grin, Pellus seized his mate to give her a passionate kiss. Barakiel grinned in turn. When Pellus released Jeduthan from his embrace, she joined in their beaming.
“Ah, Jeduthan, I love you,” Pellus said. “Here is what I shall do. I will pay a visit to Archibaud, concealed until I am alone with him. I will give him a large sum of money to refrain from mentioning us to the police, and a second large sum of money if six earthly months pass and I am satisfied he has held to the bargain. I will tell him that any word to the police about our previous visit is likely to result in your rather large frame upon his doorstep.”
“I think he will see the wisdom in keeping his mouth shut.” Barakiel’s grin got wider.
Half a turn had passed by the time the message came through the Conduit. As he and Pellus walked the stone pathways to the Keep, Barakiel ginned up his confidence.
If they want my help they will grant my request.
The Council invited them to sit once they were admitted to the chamber, its shimmering pillars halfway through their endless cycle of formation and disintegration. Barakiel thought the seats might be a sign of his new status. Abraxos regarded him with a sour look.
How unfortunate for you, Abraxos, that I am the best fighter in the Realm.
Ravellen addressed him when the greetings were finished. “Well, Barakiel, here you are again. Though I must admit, it is disconcerting to interact with you when you are cloaked.”
“It is disconcerting for me as well, Madam President.”
“Yes, I can imagine. Now, down to business. As you know, the High Command came here to make a request on your behalf, an unprecedented turn of events. After much discussion, we have decided to grant your request subject to a number of conditions.”
Barakiel maintained a serious air, though he wanted to hoot in congratulation.
I am in good company. I can see the smile in Ravellen’s eyes.
“First, Pellus, your rank will not be restored,” she said. “You may earn it back eventually, in a manner to be determined by the Council and the Guild.
“In addition, when Barakiel fights in the Turning, you will report to the Council attendants and remain in the Keep until the battle is over. We fear you may be tempted to safeguard your beloved warrior again.”
“I assure you, that is not necessary,” Pellus said. “My mate knows I very nearly did not make it back. I have promised her I will not do it again.”
“I believe you,” Ravellen said. “But appearances are critical. We do not want other adepts to try the same thing. I shudder to think what Lucifer would do with an adept he had abducted from the battlefield. And to be honest, the citizens need to see that the Council can control you. This request was granted by a slim majority. Without this measure, permission will be withdrawn.”
“Well, you cannot make it clearer than that, Madam President,” Pellus said. “I understand. Thank you for your candor.”
“That is not all,” Abraxos said, the sour look still fixed on his face. “You will no longer be free to go to the Earthly Realm whenever you please. You will travel there in fulfillment of your duty and nothing more. Do not forget that we have the means to check on you, Pellus. If you violate this condition, you will no longer be allowed to serve as Barakiel’s traveler.”
“With respect, who decides what is in service of my duty?” Pellus asked. “I am the steward of Barakiel’s wealth in the Earthly Realm. I have many reasons to go there beyond his battles at the change of seasons and to shuttle him here.”
“The Council has voted that Ravellen will decide,” Abraxos said, stiffly. “You will inform her of the reason for every trip.”
Pellus nodded. “As the Council wishes.”
The adept studiously refused to look at Barakiel.
He is afraid I will burst out laughing.
“All right, fine Covalent,” Ravellen said. “You have your permission and your conditions. You may leave now. Good luck in your battles, Barakiel. Hopefully, you can help another battalion the way you have helped Osmadiel’s.”
“I am confident that I can, Madam President.”
You will not regret this, Ravellen. We know we have you to thank.