Page 4

Chapter 4

Balancing the Scales

I waited until Galass was done voiding her guts along with the remains of her conscience before walking to the gallows and ascending the hastily assembled wooden stairs. The centipede nooses slowly strangling the angelics tried to attack me as I unwound them from their victims’ necks, but the curse I quietly cast upon them warped their aggressive instincts into something more akin to those of house cats curling up on a warm lap. Several of the centipedes began nuzzling my hands, which was more unnerving than when they were trying to stab me with their stingers. Even that, however, couldn’t compare to the stomach-churning enthusiasm of the Angelic Valiants I was freeing.

‘Bless you!’ they cried out in splendiferous harmony. The four of them, Auroral warriors of surpassing might, launched into a new song, no longer a lament but a triumphal anthem heralding the inevitable victory of the Lords Celestine.

‘Mind keeping it down?’ I asked, setting aside the last of the centipedes. The confused creature slithered down the steps of the gallows and into the desert in search of a life in this realm that had neither given birth to it nor had any place for it. There was an omen in there somewhere.

‘Rejoice, all of you!’ the tallest of the Valiants commanded the awestruck townsfolk below. He spread his arms wide as he shared the good news. ‘Today’s battle foretells of greater triumphs to come! No longer are you the wretched inhabitants of a forgotten town. Henceforth this pitiable settlement takes its rightful place as one small part of a magnificent, boundless city that will soon encompass this entire world. Arise, citizens of New Celestine!’

‘They’re already standing,’ I muttered, though it hardly mattered; Valiants have no measurable sense of humour.

Corrigan, joining me atop the gallows, shot me a questioning look. The next step in my cunning plan was apparently pushing even his ethical limits. Hells, the damned kangaroo was looking squeamish too.

This is the job , I told myself. You’re the only person alive who’s been attuned to both the Auroral and Infernal realms. No one else understands the cycle of never-ending carnage the Lords Celestine and Lords Devilish will unleash on our realm if they’re allowed to turn it into their personal battlefield.

‘I need a favour,’ I said to the leader of the angelics. ‘You know, as payment for rescuing you after you got your arses handed to you by a gang of demoniac grunts?’

The valiant frowned at my crass interruption of what would no doubt have become a rousing tale of Auroral supremacy once filtered through angelic oratory. ‘Righteousness is its own reward,’ he reminded me, ‘lest its lustre be tarnished by personal desires. You should know this, Cade Ombra, for are you not the last Glorian Justiciar?’

In theory, that was true. The other Justiciars were all dead andAlice didn’t count, since she’d never been formally inducted into the order and was, from a species perspective at least, ineligible to join. Fidelity, Dignity and the rest of my former comrades had been slain by the Seven Brothers, who left their still-living decapitated heads for me to find shortly before the brothers transformed themselves into living gates through which their Pandoral patrons had intended to invade the Mortal realm. Corrigan, Shame, Alice, Galass, Aradeus and I had risked our lives and defeated the brothers to prevent that conquest– only as soon as we’d triumphed, we’d discovered that our entire mission had been a ruse perpetrated by an innocent-looking– and totally evil– eleven-year-old boy named Fidick. He’d refashioned those same gates and allowed the Aurorals and Infernals into our realm so they could fight their long-foretold Great Crusade against one another, using Mortals for cannon fodder. If I ever met Fidick again, I was going to let Temper eat him, from his pretty little toes up.

‘Honoured Valiant,’ I began with a formal bow, ‘on my honour as a Glorian Justiciar, ’tis a righteous message that I beseech you deliver unto the Lords Celestine.’

The quartet of angelics went ominously silent. Without my former tether to the Auroral Song I could no longer hear what they were saying, but the familiar buzzing in my ears suggested they were at least debating the issue.

When they were done, their leader honoured me with a smile he clearly thought should make me swoon. ‘Exult in our gift,’ he sang. You learn to ignore that after a while. ‘Through us, the Lords Celestine have deigned to hear your plea. Speak, Justiciar Cade, and know that your words are being heard by those whose every breath is revelation.’

Glowing golden fingers appeared upon the shoulders of each of the Valiants: the famed guiding hand of the Lords Celestine– and proof that the smug bastards really were listening. The Valiants shimmered as they hummed in quiet harmony. Always nice to have a heavenly orchestra accompanying your entreaty.

‘Cool, thanks.’ I still wasn’t sure how best to convince a group of self-appointed divine beings to reconsider the holy war they’d been waiting to prosecute for thousands of years, but in precarious diplomatic situations, I find plain-spoken humility works best.

I knelt before the quartet of Angelic Valiants. ‘How shall I put this?’ I began. ‘You and your bosses sometimes have trouble recognising sarcasm, irony or, you know, expressions of free will, so I’ll speak in short sentences and try to be as literal as possible. You remember the warning we gave those Infernals right before we blew them all up?’

The angelics were staring at me. I think they’d just worked out I’d insulted them.

I ignored their shocked faces and carried on, ‘Well, that goes double for the Lords Celestine. Tell all twelve of those arrogant pricks that it’s time to pack their bags and fuck off back to the Auroral demesne. Find some other plane of reality to prosecute their prophesied pissing contest. Galass told them and I am telling you: effective immediately , the Mortal plane is closed for business.’

I looked up so the nearest valiant could hit me with the infamous Auroral Glare and see how little it bothered me. ‘Think you can remember all that? Or should I write it down?’

That flawless upper lip curled and I felt the faint whoosh of air as he gathered unto himself the blessings of the Lord Celestines in preparation for smiting me. Unfortunately for him, I’d had enough being smited for one lifetime and was about to smite the smug off his face when the Valiant behind him suddenly spoke.

‘Well, darn, Cade, that doesn’t sound friendly at all,’ she said.

Well, darn, Cade? Was that a hint of a drawl?

There were two problems right there: first, angelics don’t talk with a drawl, and second, they don’t use slang like ‘darn’. I didn’t waste time wondering why they hadn’t referred to me by my former Justiciar name, just enjoyed the respite.

I jumped to my feet and backed away, preparing to hurl the nastiest spell in my current arsenal at her, even though that risked revealing my true attunement and some very tough questions– when a third curious development revealed itself.

‘The hand!’ cried the leader of the Valiants, pointing.

The glowing aetherial fingers upon his comrade’s shoulder had begun to smoulder an ugly red. I didn’t know they could do that. The Celestine on the other end of that hand was certainly trying to pull away, but was now ensnared.

‘What foul magics assail you, Sister?’ the Valiants’ leader asked sternly, as if it were her fault.

‘ Sister? ’ she asked, lending the word an amused melancholy. ‘How can we who were never born claim kinship with one another? No mother’s womb held us, “Brother”. We were merely. . . fashioned by the Lords Celestine, destined to be servants without souls, our dooms forever etched in the emptiness of our creation.’

‘Blasphemy!’ declared another valiant, casting a scathing eye at me. ‘What Infernal perversion have you wrought, Fallen One?’

I really hate it when people call me that.

‘Hey, don’t pin this on me, friend. I’m just enjoying the show.’

The once-golden hand of the Celestine was now aflame, the fingers spasming in what appeared to be a futile and agonising bid for release.

‘Really, Cade?’ the possessed Valiant asked. ‘You always did strike me as something of an idealist.’ An amused smile came to her lips. ‘Only an idealist would be so arrogant as to presume he could stop a war foretold millennia before his birth and destined to last epochs after his death.’

‘Arrogant? I’m humble as a bumblebee and I’ve never been partial to prophecies. Who the fuck are you?’

One corner of the Valiant’s mouth rose. ‘A prophet, of course. Care to have your fortune told?’

I glanced back at Alice and Aradeus to make sure they were ready for a fight. Corrigan and Shame had already expended a great deal of their magic against the Infernals, and Galass could barely stand. As for Temper, well, you know: bloodthirsty kangaroo. I reached into the pocket of my azure coat and fished out the smallest silver coin I had– it also made a decent conduit for spells– and tossed it at the feet of the possessed angelic. ‘Okay, lady. Tell me my future.’

Her initial silence made me wonder if the Lord Celestine with the burning fingers was trying to reestablish control over his minion– until the hand withered to wisps of grey and crimson smoke, leaving behind only a small pile of ashes on the angelic’s shoulder, which she promptly brushed away. ‘That’s better. Those Lords Celestine really need to get a sense of humour. Now, as for you, Cade– you and your. . . what are you called again?’

‘The Malevolent Seven,’ Aradeus said– and yes, of course he bowed.

‘The Malevolent fucking Seven,’ Corrigan corrected.

The angelic chuckled. It was a pleasant laugh, although for some reason it felt to me kind of like church bells tolling my imminent demise. ‘Well, my magnificent new friends, my prediction is that you’ll all live long, happy lives. . . so long as you learn to mind your own fucking business.’ Absently, she gestured to the other three Valiants. ‘Leave these numbskulls to their war. Trust me, it’ll be better for all of us in the long run.’

‘Sure. No problem.’ I raised my right hand. ‘On behalf of the Malevolent Seven, we hereby swear and avow to cease any and all interference in the war between the Aurorals and Infernals.’ I made a show of looking around the gallows. ‘If anyone’s got a pen, I’m happy to put it in writing.’

The possessed angelic laughed again. ‘You know, you’re funnier than you were back then.’

‘Back when?’

Golden curls danced across perfect rose-tinted cheekbones as she shook her head. ‘Ah, ah, ah. It’s ungentlemanly to expect a girl to reveal all her secrets on the first date, Cade. You’ll have to guess.’

‘How about a hint?’

She favoured me with a smile which was not at all angelic. ‘Fine, one hint. If you want to know when we first met, go and ask your old — ’

The leader of the Valiants was clearly getting bored. ‘Enough!’ he bellowed, drawing a glowing sword from a scabbard that hadn’t been at his waist until that very moment. ‘Whatever ruse the two of you are attempting, this blasphemy ends now !’

Fucking moron , I swore silently. Just like a valiant to completely botch an interrogation.

‘A ruse?’ the possessed angelic asked. ‘Destiny isn’t trickery, you silly boy. It’s inevitability. It’s preordained.’ To me she asked, ‘Did you know that another word for destiny is doom? Here’s an interesting fact that all those theologians somehow failed to include in their religious texts that claim to reveal the natural order of the universe: every sentient being creates three dooms for themselves. With each decision we make, we bring ourselves closer to one of those three endings.’ She tapped her chest. ‘This pretty little angelic here? Even without a proper soul she’s still got three different destinies awaiting her. Poetic, don’t you think?’

‘I prefer erotic poetry,’ Corrigan put in.

The possessed angelic shot him a saucy grin and cocked her hip suggestively. ‘Too bad death by excessive orgasm is only one of your three dooms then, handsome. The other two. . . well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Maybe if you’re especially nice to me I’ll let you pick which of them comes true.’

That was either an entirely inappropriate proposition to make in the middle of a stand-off, or a claim to a kind of power unheard of in any esoteric realm I’d ever encountered. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s not how destiny works,’ I broke in, in an attempt to goad whoever was possessing the angelic.

‘Oh? Shall we test that theory?’ Her hand dropped to her side, fingers weaving idly as if she were recalling an old song. ‘How about, instead of waiting to discover which doom awaits this particular angelic, we simply choose one and bring it to the here and now?’

A shadow began to form on the wooden planks beneath her feet. I glanced eastwards, confirming that the angle of the sun was entirely wrong for casting shadows upon the gallows.

Another of the Valiants pointed. ‘Why. . . why is the shape contorted like that?’

‘Haven’t you been listening?’ the possessed angelic asked. ‘That’s one of her three dooms. Six hundred years from now, she goes mad with grief and attacks a fellow Valiant, only to be slain by a sword through her stomach. Angelics being such useless creatures, my question is, why wait?’

Without warning, she’d spun on her heel and was extending both palms to the sky. Golden talons long as curved daggers burst from her fingertips as she drove them into the other Valiant’s eyes. He screamed in agony, limbs twitching until they lost all strength. She held him upright, the fingers of one hand still embedded into his eye sockets.

‘Now, you. . .’ She gestured with her free hand to the leader of the Valiants. ‘Well, not you specifically, since you were never going to live another six hundred years. No, you’ll be dead in about two minutes. But for now, go ahead and take the place of the Glorian Justiciar who executes her. He draws a blade just like the one you’re holding. Now listen– this part’s important– as he stabs her in the belly, he shouts in righteous fury — ’

‘May the Void take you, traitor!’ the leader of the Valiants bellowed as he impaled the angelic he’d called ‘sister’ only moments before.

Back when I rode with the Glorian Justiciars, I’d witnessed the damage Celestine-blessed blades inflicted on everyday, run-of-the-mill psychopathic wonderists on a rampage. The weapons burn with fiery golden curses meant to purge the opponent of their sins– which is bad enough. In practice, it’s rather more gruesome: the sin literally burns through the unfortunate victim, melting their flesh like candle wax until it drips from their bones.

What I’d never seen was the result when one angelic Valiant stabs another with a ‘blessed’ sword.

‘What. . . what is happening to her?’ asked Galass, looking nauseous. ‘It’s as if her skin is — ’

When a blood mage is too horrified to finish a sentence, you know it’s got to be pretty bad.

Angelics are forged from raw ecclesiasm, the stuff of consciousness which, according to Corrigan, screwed up what would’ve been a perfectly peaceful universe by bringing sentience into being. In the case of angelics, that ecclesiasm was purified by the Lords Celestine, making these beings incapable of sinful acts in body and mind, since their every thought is bounded by the twelve Celestine Virtues of humility, justice, abnegation, rationality and so on.

The angelic being without sin, the golden blade should have passed cleanly through without leaving so much as an unsightly scab– except, this particular angelic had been possessed. We’ll have to ignore the fact that possession should have been impossible, since Valiants are perpetually attuned to the Auroral Song. Anyway, whichever power had enabled the wonderist possessing her to burn away the guiding hand of a Lord Celestine was now waging spiritual war against the angelic’s own nature.

As the lead Valiant’s sword pierced the chest, droplets of melting flesh sloughed from skin and muscle, only to then slither back like hissing snakes. The Auroral blessings were tearing through what they perceived as the sin permeating the angelic’s very bones: skin crackled like paper dropped in the hearth, sinew sizzled into ashes and one by one her exposed ribs popped open like fingers being pried apart. I hadn’t known until then that angelics had hearts, or that they looked like flowers, the petals unfolding as they died, revealing a delicate golden butterfly whose wings burned away into nothingness before the last grey flakes drifted down to the ground. And all the while, the dying Valiant was smiling at me.

‘We’ll see each other again,’ said the wonderist as the Valiant’s tongue was turning to ash inside a pale jaw no longer clad in once-flawless skin. ‘Three more times before my bosses order me to kill you.’

One benefit of having witnessed any number of atrocities in my relatively brief career as a wonderist was learning not to waste time on disgust or despair. ‘What bosses?’ I asked quickly. ‘Who are you working for? What do they wa — ?’

‘They want peace, Cade,’ she replied as the ruined body she’d possessed slumped down to the wooden platform, perfectly filling the contorted, unnatural shadow waiting for it. ‘Just not the peace you were hoping for.’