Mission Log, Day 19, Tuesday, September 21st, 1999
We've spent the last full day travelling to Yellowstone to speak once again to the Roc, at Arashiel's request. I've certainly developed a fast skill with this activity called driving, but more importantly have gained even deeper understanding of the interactions of my fellow celestials and some of the events that transpired while I was preoccupied with Jackson White and Dinhabah. I will summarize some of my observations.
Matt returned with Arashiel and sat down to talk with Irad a while about their shared experiences of defending ethereals and humans from other angels. I did not join in the conversation; my fight against the Crusades to regain the Holy Lands was long over, and I did not like the grousing tone of the whole discussion. Neither of them care much for Malakim, for different reasons, especially Irad and his experiences with them in the Purity Crusades, which makes his supposed aid of Rook all the more suspicious. However, I believe I am beginning to understand his willingness to help us. The Tapestry offers him a chance to resurrect his word of Dragons by defending and even freeing some of his lost kin. Jael had already mentioned that all the dragons were dead. This seemed a unique opportunity for Irad to change that. Even so, he admitted that he "would be flayed" if the creatures of the Tapestry were freed and he failed to bring them into Hell's service. Who would do the flaying--Nightmares or Fate--I don't know.
Alaric arrived with the rest of the group, and we divided ourselves between his car and Jael's van, which Arashiel asked me to drive. So I shifted to my human vessel, only then reminded of her poor condition. The vessel was healing quickly thanks to Eli's generous Ofanite attunement; fingers worked, ribs flexed, just the fading bruising and closing cuts and scrapes to show for my potentially deadly fall. Unfortunately I did not go unnoticed. Matt asked if I needed any assistance healing-wise, which I declined brusquely. I don't know why I was so short with him, except perhaps his previous quizzing about my presence at the murder scene. No, it was something else. The more my companions dwell on my wounded vessel, the more likely they are to ask questions about how she came to be that way...questions I don't want to answer right now. My work with Jackson White is not done, and I don't dare risk the interference of some meddling albeit well-intentioned angel before justice is fully served.
Let me state now for the record that I did think to acquire weapons for my human vessel, realizing that my beloved axes remained in Giles' care. Nothing was readily available, however, and I resigned myself to teeth and fingernails and the occasional stabbing comment should we encounter opposition. Probably just as well, in hindsight...but more on that later.
We drove afternoon, evening, night, and morning. Discussions varied widely, but a few of them stick out in my mind which I will relay.
I soon realized that Arashiel recognized the potential hostility between Rook and Irad and kept them in separate vehicles. More surprising, however, was her manipulations to make sure Rook and Jael rode together, presumably to force them to "talk." I gather by her disappointment that this did not occur as planned. I still remain unclear as to what they needed to discuss, although it would be safe to suppose they faced the inevitable troubles of attempting a relationship. Regardless, this seating arrangement presented an opportunity to speak with Alaric about his mission in Boulder.
He was honest enough about it, saying he was along as a negotiator and the rest was none of my business. But it was the rest I was interested in. "Is this about Rook? Is he in some kind of trouble?"
Alaric merely shrugged. "Let's not analyze Rook. Ask him yourself."
So no headway on that front. I spent the next little while listening to Arashiel and Matt argue about whether she should go present a case to the council for protecting the Tapestry and risk having it confiscated, or unravel it right away before the council has a say in its future. Of course, you already know where I stand on that issue, but I generally kept my opinions to myself. Obviously Arashiel was struggling with the choice, and it had to be her choice, and my opinions were secondary to that consideration...for the moment.
But Irad had a curious take on the matter--something about Daspit's relentless pursuit of the Tapestry--that got me thinking. Daspit certainly seemed to be Hell's point man for nabbing the artifact, and quite possibly could be higher up in the ranks than I thought, issuing orders instead of just following them. In fact, I conluded that he had to be the Seller of Souls Gabriel prophesied, or at least its representative on the Earthly plane. I thought again of the TIC-TOC car and Victoria Strassen, both connected with the installation nearby called Rocky Flats, and resolved that no matter how this trip to visit the Roc went, I would eventually investigate the place and, if possible, take Daspit out of the picture. It was the only way to be sure the prophecy would be averted.
At the next rest stop, while some of the others went out to relieve themselves, I followed Alaric's suggestion and approached Rook. Without preamble, I asked, "Why are you in trouble with War?"
"I'm not." His reaction to the sudden question was unnervingly muted.
"Then why is Alaric here?"
"He's here to assist me as a negotiator."
Stick with the party line, eh? "Yes, so I've heard. You don't think there's anything more to his visit?"
"His business is his own."
More evasion. I pressed him, as much to get a reaction out him as the truth. Where were Rook's facts, opinions, assessments, even his drive to seek information and take action to further the mission? Nothing. Bland. Blah. Passionless. Uncaring. Not his responsibility. What in Heaven's name happened while I was away? Had his relationship with Jael done this to him? I was appalled, and eventually told him, "I don't know you any more. I don't know what happened to the gung-ho Malakite I knew at Sand Creek."
"I assure you I'm doing everything I can, considering every time I try to organize this group I am countermanded and undermined and out-voted by everyone including you."
I blinked, surprised. I remembered the conversation he spoke of, the one about telling each other our abilities, the one I disagreed with and said as much. I never dreamed that he might still be dwelling on that. But I squared my shoulders and pressed on. "I am sorry if I did not lend you support when you needed it. But I maintain that the War is still going on, Rook, and it requires everyone's fullest effort. You have quit!"
He denied as much with the fervor of a cud-chewing cow, or an Elohite. I don't know if he even took to heart anything I said. Eventually I backed off, merely asking him if he would consider ways to track down and destroy Daspit when we returned to Boulder. Once again, no enthusiasm, or even false interest, just a wan acquiescence that both infuriated me and chilled me to the bone. Defeated, I turned away to see the others watching--and likely listening--with keen interest.
None of them asked me about the encounter later, as if they already knew something was wrong and wanted to see how I would fare with him. And something was definitely wrong. How long had this been going on? How had I not noticed it? Was this what he and Jael were supposed to talk about? Has he completely retreated from the world in other areas, or just where his Heavenly duties are concerned? Without knowing, I'd say he was dissonant, a warrior who refuses to partake in the war unless expressly ordered. He would probably say there is nothing to fight, no demons to kill, and therefore he has nothing to do. But I say there's more to the War than demon-killing. Any action which draws humanity closer to Heaven and sets Hell back is worth taking, even if it means giving flowers to stranger as Matt does, or lifting heavy hearts with a little spontaneous fun like Arashiel does. Granted, not every act produces a tangible positive result, and many of them may have almost no effect in the long term. But for Rook to think that his only duty to Heaven is to go about the business of smiting a few paltry demonic grunts while Lucifer plots the eventual downfall of the soul of all humanity is downright selfish; all the glory and none of the hard work that goes into day-to-day angelic living. Allah, forgive his pride! How could I have not seen it before? His behavior toward Creation and Flowers? It isn't just about not understanding them, but about believing that they are less important to the War because they don't leave a trail of demonic corpses in their wake. And of late, he looks at himself and sees the same thing. No bodies, no usefulness. Of course! He gravitates toward me in this group because he sees our functions as being similar, as physical tools in the War. When he helped me track down and destroy that Soldier of Mutilation in Colorado Springs, that was probably the closest he'd come to fulfilling his "purpose" since he took this assignment. I am reminded of our first encounter in the Groves, his stiff politeness toward some old burned-out Ofanite who didn't want to fight Earthside against the demonic hordes anymore. I expected it out of a fledgling. I didn't expect it now out of a centuries-old world-wise warrior.
Now he's beginning to make sense. He chooses not to engage because A) His feelings are hurt that we did not like his early suggestions, and now B) He sees these decisions as relating to something other than demon-slaying and therefore unworthy of his attentions. No, there's more to it than that. Not exactly unworthy of his attentions, but beyond the limited scope of his percieved function, and therefore best left to those who "know best," just as he feels decisions of tactics and defense and other martial considerations should be deferred to him. So when we balked at his skill-sharing suggestion, he took it as an attack on his ability--and right--to make those suggestions. Now he apparently feels that he's made his stab at teamwork with non-Malakite, non-War, non-evil-smiting angels and since he can't lead us to do things his way, he can't do anything at all.
Even now I shake my head; I have probably only scratched the surface of what troubles him. Nevertheless, a sullen Malakite is never a good thing.
We arrived in Yellowstone after dawn this morning and wove our way one ever-narrowing roads deep into the heart of that great wilderness. Bah! What kind of "wilderness" has roads running up to it and human footpaths crisscrossing it? There were even cars already parked there. We knew the Roc wouldn't be so close to humans and set our sights on barren mountain peaks in the distance. The others began to hoof it; I took flight to scout ahead.
And scout I did, finding a regular troop of humans all bearing rifles and surrounding the mouth of a small cave. I swooped down for a better look (Excuse me, but would any of you be acting cruelly?) and found nothing unusual, except that one of them immediately took a shot at me! Luckily he just blew out a few feathers; nothing bad, but I admit I was a little tweaked by this unbridled aggression. I disappeared into the trees, then blitzed through them low, knee-level, just daring them to shoot one another. They didn't, but they came close to hitting me a couple more times. The cavalry arrived just in time, and I dove into the cave to catch my breath and find out what they could possibly be after.
It was a deep cave, at least fifteen feet long and only a foot or so tall. I couldn't turn worth squat, landed and proceeded on foot. Oddly enough, I had a feeling the greeting committee outside was angelic (judging by the absolute lack of cruelty for a bunch of men with hunting rifles) and my instincts told me I was about to encounter one truly nasty demon.
So imagine my surprise when I met a cornered and jumpy white wolf. "Uhhh. Hello."
"Who are you?"
"Arabis. And you?"
"Althea, of Animals."
"You're an angel?" Then it clicks. "This is a Tether, and you are the Seneschal."
"And what are you doing here?"
"We are, uh, looking for something. Who are those men outside?"
"Angels. They block anyone from coming in or out."
What the--?! "Anyone? What about reinforcements?"
"My Tether is small and weakening, and Jordi has not answered my howls for help."
Angels blockading other archangels' Tethers? These things just don't happen. But it made more sense; in my raven vessel, they probably thought I was another servitor of Animals deliberately running the blockade. "Um, is this about the Roc?"
She looked at me with a new understanding. "So you're the ones..."
Great. Our reputations precede us. I can only imagine what the reception would be Heavenside.
Voices outside caught my attention and I hopped back to the mouth of the cave, concealed by brush. I felt a Song of Harmony heavy in the air, probably Matt's doing, overheard the forced calmness of an otherwise heated disagreement between Rook and the other group's leader, with Alaric trying to keep matters in hand. They were servitors of Sword, under orders to close down this Tether. Servitors of Sword, many of them once followers of Purity and participants in the Purity Crusades, here to...what, destroy the Roc? Prevent Animals from helping it?
Rook ignored their directives and took sparrow form to enter the cave for himself, talked briefly to Althea while Matt and Alaric did their best to diffuse the situation. In short order he reemerged with the last known location of the Roc and we left the besieging Laurencians and the poor forsaken Tether to Animals behind, much to everyone's irritation and disappointment...except perhaps Matt.
See, aren't you glad I didn't have my axes?
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