The mortal was . . . persistent, Hadriel had to give him that. Again and again, Lady Joan struck him with her wooden weapon, but though he fell repeatedly he kept on returning to his feet. Such determination was laudable, however, the fact that he was clambering upright by using his limbs, rather than levitating himself upright, was less so.
The crimson-winged angel sighed quietly and drifted back a bit to allow herself a better view of the sight before her.
Mortals . . . mortals were not something she was accustomed to having to deal with. She was a soldier, a warrior meant for battle. She had fought in the corona of stars and swung her blades on the edges of the hells. Her blood had been spilt by the howling spirits of the deep void, and she had in turn carved away at their forms in retaliation!
So why was she here?
That was the question that had been plaguing her, and it was not a feeling she was either familiar with or one that she enjoyed. She knew that there were other angels, ones that had voluntarily reincarnated as mortals during the time that the earthly plane had been barred from the planes of the immortals. They knew what it was like to be a mortal, but Hadriel lacked that. She had never felt the need to be one, to have a family, to live a life as one of them, why should she? She was content with what she was.
Now though, it seemed as though taking a few decades of mortal time to live out a single lifetime might have been a worthwhile investment.
“Do not hesitate, Adam! Just move! Do not overthink, simply move!”
Lady Joan called out the instruction as she swung at their charge again, and to his credit, the young man did try to follow her advice. Hadriel felt the magic move in him, but it was sluggish, unsettled and unrefined, even if it was improving. He moved, but not fast enough, and again the wooden weapon struck home, driving the air from his lung and causing him to collapse to his knees wheezing.
Staring at him she could not help but feel . . . frustration? Dissatisfaction?
Demigods were known to the heavens, and even respected, to a certain degree. Heracles, Perseus, Imhotep, Cu Chulainn, even ancient Gilgamesh, every one of them had been legends. They had not been perfect, but they had been mankind written large, their failings matched by their triumphs.
That had been the sort of demigod that she’d thought to stand beside!
However, the reality that she found was not what she had expected. To be sure, there were signs of the might she had anticipated, his Awakening had lit up half the world after all, his halo was a Crown, and once his magic had gained vitality she had been able to feel the potential of it. The problem was that all of it hinted at what he could be, what he could have been. Currently, Adam was . . . flawed, limited in a way that stoked her frustration.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pressure upon the edge of her awareness. This intrusion had shape and texture to it, a signature that she recognized, and one that caused her eyes to narrow in surprise. Why were they trying to contact her? For that matter, why were they even in this part of the world?
Drifting away from where her charge and the resurrected mortal sparred Hadriel turned her focus inwards, concentrating upon the connection that had been opened. She could feel the power of the one trying to contact her firming the connection, supplying the power needed for it to operate.
The communication was nothing so simple as a voice in her head, it conveyed sensations, emotions, colours and even scents, it conveyed things that no mortal language had words for, depths of divine power, a position in the ranks of the heavenly army, harmonics of placement amongst the dimensions that pressed in against the mortal realm. Mortals, even those like Joan of Arc who had been touched and empowered by the High Heavens, could not comprehend this means of communication, they were simply unequipped for it.
This was the first time she had communicated directly with one of her brethren since she had begun her current task, and she found herself surprised by how much she had missed the contact. For the past few days she had simply been accessing the cumulative pools of knowledge that were constantly being updated by angels about the world, but that was more akin to consulting a book than speaking to another thinking being.
And this was a fellow angel that she was familiar with.
Yahoel was indeed a welcomed ‘voice’, as he was one of the higher-ranked angels that had been dispatched to the realms of Man to stem the machinations of the forces of hell. As one of lord Metatron’s direct subordinates he was well respected and held considerable authority over the troops dispatched to the world of mortals. However, he was more of an administrator than a warrior. As such he rarely saw the front lines and instead dealt with the tasks of telling the eager warriors of heaven where their targets were. Though not a soldier he was held in great respect by all
Like Hadriel he was a Third, a member of the third generation of angels to be created by the Lord only a few millennia before the Paths were closed. As such he was almost a sibling to her, and to see him rise to such a position of importance was heartening for her and her kin.
The first generation of angels had been the initial host that had been created shortly after the beginning of the universe. Michael, Gabriel and Lucifer had all been members of that generation, as well as many of the older angels that went on to become the commanders and governors of the Hosts of Heaven. The second generation had been brought into being during the aftermath of Lucifer’s Fall and the Rebellion in Heaven. The angelic ranks had been badly thinned by the conflict, a third lost when they fell with the Morningstar, and then so many died in the war that followed.
The second generation had bolstered those flagging ranks at a time when the gods had begun to grow belligerent, sensing weakness in the High Heavens. They had restored the angelic supremacy not simply by shoring up their numbers, but also by introducing newer and younger champions to their ranks. Lady Bath Kol was a second generation, as were Ramiel and Raziel, all of whom became peers to the mighty Seraphs and archangels of the first generation.
Her own generation had come far later, brought into being as the Twilight of the Gods began. Their numbers had been great, and every one of them proved a worthy addition to the forces of the High Heavens. However, they had failed to produce any great champions. When compared to some of the older angels, who had been alive in time to watch the first suns being formed, they were so recent, so young.
Her generation had been created to have strength in numbers, this was a simple fact, it had been what was needed at the time. Still, it was . . . disheartening that so few of her generation were able to rise in the ranks.
That was why it was always refreshing to speak to Yahoel. He was one who had climbed the ranks, he was one who proved that third-generation angels had more to offer than mere numbers.
His reply echoed in her mind, a combination of warm assurance with a hint of blue reluctance.
This was even more good news. The heavenly empire of the deities of eastern Asia was a strange mixture of chaos and order. They were the deities of a vast nation, one that had produced many legends and myths over the millennia. Everything from the Jade Emperor who ruled over the Celestial Bureaucracy, to the Monkey King, to the Seven Gourd Brothers, all had risen as part of their legends and merged into a single pantheon of great size and diversity. Gods, demigods, immortals, monsters, spirits, intelligent animals, their tales were rife with them all, and they each tried to find their own place in the faction. Some of them were chaotic, even malicious, sowing mayhem and ill fortune everywhere they went. Others were more righteous, selfless and heroic, or at least more orderly. It was a mercy they had not all descended upon the mortal plane together.
The most powerful factions of the Chinese pantheon were the Celestial Empire and the Celestial Bureaucracy that supported it. In many ways, they were possibly the most ordered and regimented divine power in the world, aside from the High Heavens themselves. Certainly, out of all the ‘pagan’ gods they were amongst the most, if not the most, orderly pantheon in existence.
A true alliance was an excellent advancement upon them merely sharing enemies. Hopefully, an agreement could be built upon to better ensure the defence of this plane in the future!
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The message was joyous but also tinged with anger and disgust, sentiments the warrior angel could agree with.
There was a moment of silence, and then pale blue sadness filled her mind as her request was answered.
That was disquieting, to say the least. The Wild Hunt was one of the most dangerous factions of the fey kingdoms, a powerful force that appeared in many mythologies. They were not a dire threat, but their return was something to be carefully noted.
Hadriel felt a flash of hot frustration run through her at the thought of her comrades facing such enemies without her there. As the Angel of Swords, she had been one of their strongest fighters, and her presence might have been enough to tilt the odds in their favour and prevent the wounds that had been taken. Instead, she was here.
Trying to distract herself from her unwanted thoughts she sent a query through the link.
Yahoel projected an image into her mind, a view of a great forest as seen from far above. The vista was a beautiful one, a panorama of trees, rivers, glades and fields, yet there was something there that caused Hadriel’s eyes to narrow. It wasn’t anything that immediately stood out to her, but there was something . . . something that told her there was more to the view than what she saw.
He paused again, and the red-winged angel took the opportunity to ask the question she felt was most important.
Red anger tinged her communication, along with yellow sorrow at the loss and failure of the angels to defend their creator’s mortal children.
It was not ideal, but a scorched earth tactic would eliminate this corruption speedily enough that the various efforts upon the mortal plane would not impacted by the numbers taken for the task.
Hadriel understood. The hosts of the High Heavens had not returned to the mortal planes in order to solve all their problems for them. Rather they were here to protect those mortals from that which went too far. Most of the pantheons had some claim upon the planes of man, but with that claim came certain responsibilities and limitations.
The accumulation of worshipers, ruling over domains, and even the punishment or death of mortals within those domains were permitted. The wholesale destruction of entire civilizations or the genocide of an entire people was a different matter, as was the interference of hell. The principal reason the angelic forces had been deployed to the mortal plane had been to protect mortals from the influence of demons and devils, but also to serve as a reminder to the other powers that the old rules still applied.
That being said, the Almighty had decreed that some threats should not be moved against, though there had been sorrow in His voice when the commands were given. Mortals needed to adapt to this new age, and in doing so there would inevitably be casualties. It was to be mourned, but not prevented. The duty of the angels was to prevent the collapse of the world, to ensure that mortals could continue to live at all.
Hadriel felt a small smile touch her lips. That was something of a favourite saying of Yahoel’s, one that he tried to live by.
He paused at her question, and she had a feeling she was not going to like the answer.
He paused again, and Hadriel took the moment of silence as a chance to glance around. It would seem that the resurrected saint had permitted the demigod she was training to take a break, because he was currently sprawled out on the grass, Lady Joan looking on with distinct amusement on her face.
Hadriel could see how it could happen. Like the pebble that started the avalanche, a single action could indeed lead to a war unlike any the world had ever seen.
Some of her dark thoughts must have leaked across the link because Yahoel addressed her again.
There was a sense of trepidation for a moment, then a feeling of acceptance, albeit slightly reluctant.
Yes . . . yes, that made sense! Hadriel glanced back down at her charge, seeing him in something of a new light. Until now she had been focused upon his power as a warrior, someone able to slay monsters and slash apart the machinations of hell through pure force. The notion that he might serve as more than that had not crossed her mind. She supposed it was due to her own position as a soldier, being all too used to having to use battle to accomplish her goals, and she had just assumed that Adam would likewise need to do so.
If he were to be a mediator or negotiator though . . .
Suddenly her mind flashed back to the moment of his awakening, when she had seen those spheres of power that she didn’t recognize. Yes, one of them had unquestionably belonged to Lady Bath Kol, but the others . . . Until now the crimson-winged angel had simply assumed that they belonged to other angelic lines, but what if that was not the case? If her charge possessed blood ties to not only the High Heavens but also to some of the pantheons then it would place him in a unique position. One that could be leveraged to get various gods and factions to listen to him where they would normally have ignored him.
But that was the role he was meant to serve in. She could think of several other angels of her own generation, angels she respected greatly, who would have been far more suited to the task than her. Perhaps his strength would be more needed than she thought. After all, many of the pantheons would never even acknowledge someone they deemed to be weak, so power would be needed to simply bring them to the negotiation table.
She didn’t answer verbally, she simply agreed, knowing that he would be able to sense the sentiment. In return he didn’t communicate any words, instead, there was a warm golden sensation just before the connection fell away.
Below her, Adam was now once more on his feet and was doing his best to avoid the wooden rod Lady Joan was using in place of a sword. As before, he was failing to avoid the blows, but the angel had to admit, there was some small improvement. He had by no means mastered his newly gained flight yet, but he was already working out how to balance himself more ably, a step in the correct direction.
She didn’t smile, but her face did soften slightly. Yes, he was not Heracles or Gilgamesh, but he seemed willing to work for what could be his. To be sure, she might be more comfortable fighting at the side of a demigod in the fullness of his power. But perhaps, being a teacher and aiding him in reaching that was what was needed.
Slowly descending Hadriel began to mentally plan her future lessons. They would not be gentle, but they would make him stronger. After all, he would need that strength.