Mission Log, Day Unknown, Tuesday, September 25th, 1999
Hmph. Where was I? Oh yes, I was flying overhead as my companions furiously unraveled the Tapestry and fled pursuing demons, most of them Calabim.
Don't get me wrong. I hadn't forgotten about Daspit, or Arnu, and especially Jackson White. Ah yes, JW. I should have brought him to justice by now. Yes, unravelling the Tapestry is important, obviously, or I wouldn't be here, but...should I be destroyed here on the Ethereal plane, or even set back significantly, Jackson may never face the consequences of his actions. I should have finished my business there before coming here, felt keenly deep in my soul the disharmony of delaying my obligation to the fires of justice. Had I known what the future held...but I didn't. I only hoped I'd have a second chance to set matters right.
We left the unicorn's forest as unexpectedly as we entered it, finding ourselves crossing a grey expanse of rolling hills toward nothing. Such is the nature of the Marches, I suppose, an endless stream of landscapes somehow tethered by invisible doors. I like it not, especially at this dread hour. Too much of an opportunity to get separated, and separated we will die.
But new troubles awaited us in this great grey land, for straight ahead of us approached six creatures by wing. Black feathered wings of the Malakim, and wearing gleaming white robes.
"Who is that?" I called down from above.
They paused only momentarily, then one of the Creationer sisters growled. "Purity."
The Tsayadim. Ugh. Just what we needed. Angels even more hardcore than the Dominicans, made moreso by their undying personal devotion to eradicating all impure things in the Marches, particularly the Ethereals. We turned and fled both groups, losing time and ground but having no other choice. Flying ahead, I did my best to maintain equal distance from both groups of pursuers. Out-numbered almost two to one, our only chance of survival lay in hoping the two groups might go after each other instead of us.
The scenery changed again, this time to wide sweeping sands of a beautiful desert. Home, for me. Mountains lined the horizon; nearby stood an Egyptian burial pyramid, the biggest one I've ever seen, blinding limestone white in the harsh noon sun and covered with brilliantly-colored pictures and art and symbols. Unfortunately, the place looked entirely devoid of life.
We weren't exactly getting tired, but our pursuers were gaining on us, and the Tapestry was still mostly intact, and a fight while still protecting it seemed inevitable. Rook suggested finding a defensible place to make a stand, and without much argument we headed for a rocky oasis beyond the pyramid where we could perhaps lay an ambush and even the odds a little.
A rumble shook the ground, and from beneath the dunes rose two pointed boulders. Except they weren't boulders, but the rounded ears of a giant lioness. Giant. Gracefully, effortlessly, yet with a terrifying power, she shed the sands that shrouded her and arose, her dust-colored eyes surveying the land intently, as if from a long absence. Or sleep.
"Sekhmet," murmured one of the others in awe. I recognized the name, if not her place in the Egyptian pantheon.
Rising up from the very earth, part grinding stone, part buzzing scarab, part feral growl, her disembodied voice said, "Who are you, intruders?"
I shuddered at the thought of facing this old Ethereal, cringed as I wheeled around to respond before realizing she looked not at us, but the black and white specks on the horizon.
We started to continue on. She would surely slow our pursuers down and buy us the extra time we needed to finish unraveling the Tapestry. But someone (perhaps Rook? Arashiel? Jael?) insisted that we could not bring the Tsayadim to an Ethereal's realm and then abandon it to their ungentle mercies. From a tactical standpoint I would have to disagree, but as I watched the goddess move to engage the murderers of her kind, I also recognized in her a powerful ally who could tip the balance...if we fought side-by-side. So I sped back to the encounter, the others not far behind.
As I approached I heard the leader of the Malakim say to Sekhmet, "We don't want you."
Well, duh! This was our problem, our fight. "Go away!" I squawked.
The speaker leveled an eyeless black stare at me and pointed. "We want that one."
Oh.
Wait a second....
I admit more confusion than anything else, since I'd never met a Tsayadim in my entire existence, much less offended one. "Why me?"
"Dissonant one."
Ouch. They had to remind me. But of course Purity would be able to detect the "impure," at least by their broad definition. But...then this pursuit wasn't about the Tapestry. If I weren't here the Tsayadim might have never even noticed us and we'd be kicking demon derriere right now, or at least outstripping them. Instead, we're outnumbered two to one and endangering yet another ethereal in the heavenly war. Mea culpa. This was my fault, my problem, and I would have to deal with it.
"Go away," I squawked again, but my nerves betrayed my uncertainty.
"Who do you serve?"
"Fire."
He snorted. "A dissonant angel serving a dissonant superior."
That was quite enough. "Why don't you see if you can catch me?" And to make sure I had their attention, I dove through their ranks. Hmph. Not so unexpected as I hoped, for one of them managed to clip a wing with his flaming sword. I tumbled, recovered before I plowed a trench in the sand, swung about out of reach to reevaluate my sterling plan.
The others engaged the Tsayadim with a terrible ferocity. I could see Matt on a distant hill, protected by Alaric as he unravelled the Tapestry with lightning desperation. I could see Rook wading into the fray, as comfortable swinging his fists as any weapon. I could see Jael swelling to immense red proportions, sprouting horns and claws and eighteen-inch teeth, the better to bite them with, my dear. I could see Arashiel wielding her sword of heavenly light, slicing through the Tsayadim with surgical precision. Weaponless, I tried singing the Ethereal Song of Entropy on one of them. Failing that, and ever more aware of my culpability in this whole degenerating mess, I continued to strafe the group, aiming to distract if not injure. Again a sword found me, this time flashing across my path before slicing through my breast. I landed hard but not without control, assessed the damage while madly hopping away from my would-be executioner. Between the simultaneous action and the flying sand and dust things grew hazy, and I forced myself to take flight again--unsteadily, mind you--to get a better look. Matters had grown worse. Although Sekhmet pinned one of the Urielites to the sand beneath her huge paw and feasted on another (I shuddered at the sight of black wings protruding from the corners of her mouth), Jael found herself wounded and faltering beneath two more. As for Rook and Arashiel, they remained otherwise occupied with the newly-arrived demon pursuit. Below me I spied the leader of the Outcasts seemingly running from the battle...until I saw his sword lying in the sand over the next hill. As a wounded raven I would never beat him to his target. Being an Ofanite, however....
I crossed the distance in a heartbeat and landed awkwardly, immediately shifted to human form and picked up the sword, just in time to bring the Malakite to a sudden stop mere feet away. The long double-edged blade dipped under its own weight; I had to wrap both hands around the hilt to steady it. Was his weapon unusually large, or was this vessel of mine just significantly smaller than the last one to hold a sword? I couldn't tell. Rusty though I was in its use, I braced it and myself for his attack.
"Put that down," he growled.
"Do you doubt I know how to use this? Be gone!"
Rage radiated like desert heat from his face, yet he apparently needed his weapon back badly enough to consider less physical attacks. "You release the impure, you associate with the impure, you serve the impure, you are impure. You should choose better company."
I wonder if I looked as dumbfounded as I felt at this disgusting creature's very nerve. "At least I still serve Heaven."
He tried to disarm me; I jumped back, and we circled. Yet I found myself thinking too much, always a dangerous thing in deadly combat. Wrong as I should find it that he would sooner capture and punish me than destroy those demons over the hill, I couldn't honestly say that he wasn't doing what he was created to do. Moreso, my contract with Heaven did not include killing other angels, Outcast or otherwise, especially if they were not cruel. Releasing ethereals was one thing. Killing angels seemed quite another. Mind you, I could see in his eyes his dedication to duty, his willingness (and ability) to cleanse or destroy me as became necessary. And I felt in my own heart a sickening desire to do the same, to obliterate him, to rid the universe of his rigid soul and set reparations for the unkindnesses he'd wrought upon Creation. And some teensy-weensy part of me twitched uncomfortably at the thought.
I ran. The sword bounced along in the sand behind me (yes, I admit to a little mockery of his choice weapon's so-called "purity") as I raced back toward the fray. Time spent chasing me was lost to the fighting, and it gave me a few moments to work up the courage to actually face the Virtue. In a different vessel, in a different time, I might have felt more confident about taking on an old battle-hardened Malakite at his own game. But the human Ariel was a runner, not a fighter, and I still wrestled with my own dark desire to unleash calabitic Entropy upon him, and dared not face him without being wholly certain of my intentions.
The symphonic clap of a Superior halted the losing battle. Distantly on the hill next to Matt stood a small blond form. Novalis, I presumed. Sekhmet was nowhere to be seen. Demons began winking out, one by one, and in a sweet but clear voice she asked the Tsayadim to leave their weapons and depart. They did, all of them, without argument or hesitation.
It took a while for the our victory to sink in. I sat on a hill clutching my new sword and watched as the Tapestry eventually unraveled, replacing the unforgiving desert with a pastoral glen, complete with all its denizens. Jael and Arashiel seemed obviously pleased, Rook looked relatively content with the outcome, and Matt positively beamed next to Novalis. Even Alaric enthusiastically handed out information cards should any of the newly released ethereals would like to join the fight against Hell. I bristled at that; these ethereals represented, at least according to the prophesy, the last of those who would not choose, and certainly recruiting them at the moment of their release did not seem to be the destiny meant for them. But I couldn't complain. He wasn't twisting anyone's arm or forcing a choice upon them, just giving them the option.
It felt a bit strange, surrounded by all that relief and hope and not really feeling it. I took to cleaning the sword I held. I hadn't earned it; I stole it. Not much to feel proud of, but proud I was, as well as embarrassed and ashamed. I could have left it right there; Novalis would have wanted me to, but I only held on more tightly, stubbornly. It was mine, however ill-gotten.
Jael came over to sit beside me. Maybe she thought I needed some company; maybe she needed some company. She seemed pleased at the outcome but a little sad, quiet and introspective, like me. I think we did more bonding in those minutes than in the score of days we'd known each other, not saying much, just sitting on the hilltop and watching the happy gathering below, lost in our thoughts. Eventually Arashiel came and dragged her off to join the fun, regardless of the fact that she didn't seem much in the mood to play. I was sorry to see her go, felt my dissonance more keenly in her absence.
Novalis left. Alaric decided to stay with the ethereals, so the rest of us set off the way we'd come, eventually reaching the edge of Blandine's Marches. Angels patrolled more frequently than before; somehow word was out about the Tapestry. We couldn't have crossed without the aid of a sympathetic Malakite of Dreams who helped us sneak through and sent us down through one of his tethers. We'd agreed to bypass Heaven altogether; Dominicans would be looking for blood on this little infraction.
Several tethers and back in the cave at Yellowstone, Althea told us that after we left, Irad made a bit of celestial noise and now both he and the Laurencians were gone. Sounded like a fight to me. Was Irad up to his old tricks? I didn't say a word as we drove back to Boulder; Jael already had enough on her mind.
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