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Chapter LXXX : Asura Mazda
Earlmorn of Somnus, Twenty-Ninth Day of Autumnmoon
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Bram woke at first light, surprised to find Matthias already awake and ready to go. The former Knight nudged Mica awake and dismantled the campsite. While the priestess-in-training groggily packed her travel bag, she described the narrow path to the shrine. She expected it to take an hour to fully descend, due to its treacherous shape around the inner canyon.
The crew wasted no time. As soon as everyone was ready, they took their first steps into the crevasse. Not long after they descended, the dawn’s amber light began to wane. By the time they reached midway, it had dwindled so faint that Matthias provided extra light. His spell took the form of a pale, glowing orb that hovered overhead.
There was only a single span of walkway between the travelers and oblivion, so they walked single file. Bram took the rear, so he could keep a close eye on Mica. She hugged the cliffside as she marched, turning her head inward to avoid looking down. She was clearly frightened, but she pressed on. The march was slow and laborious. Fortunately, after an hour as Mica predicted, the end was in sight.
They arrived at a bridge that connected both sides of the abyss, made of the same solid bedrock. No supports, just a thin slab of rock. It had a feeble appearance, yet somehow survived the test of time. On either edge were exquisitely detailed carvings, resembling ancient military soldiers. They had lifelike visages with no visible signs of wear or erosion. Their ominous expressions, locked in place by ancient chisel. They could have almost been real people, frozen in time by magic. At the far end, an archway led into the limestone.
Bram took a deep breath. “This is it.”
Mica was trembling. “Uh … ye-yes. All we have to do is cross, and, uh … hopefully not fall.”
“Hmph.” Matthias’ expression was blasé. “Looks sturdy enough, an’ Ah’ve plenty o’ manna left, if things don’t hold.” He pointed with his walking stick. “Why don’t ya go first, Lass. Ya came all this way for your pilgrimage, didntcha? Ya can’t back down now. Go on.”
At the scholar’s prodding, Mica steeled herself forward. She looked one more time back over her shoulder, and again, the old man urged on.
As she advanced, a mist appeared along the bridge, slowly enveloping her.
Bram looked to his companion. “Matthias, do you see what I’m seeing?”
The old man nodded. “Aye, but it don’t seem t’ be a physical manifestation. Ah believe it’s an illusion.”
As soon as Mica disappeared into the mist, it started to clear. When it was gone, so was she. The priestess-in-training was no longer anywhere on the bridge.
Bram felt concerned. “She’s gone. That’s not just an illusion.”
Matthias shook his head. “She chose t’ enter, Bram. Ah don’t sense hostility. We might as well follow suit.”
There was much about magic that Bram didn’t understand, but it didn’t mean he needed to fear it. He stepped forward confidently, with Matthias at his side. As he traversed the stone bridge, he felt a draft, which raised the hairs on his neck. The air was cold and uninviting, and the mist returned.
Matthias’ orb of light fought against the darkness, which slowly closed in. Bram looked to either side and noticed the heads of statues swivel in his direction.
The old scholar seemed to sense what he was thinking. “Don’t worry, Bram. There’s no need t’—”
His voice went mute, and Bram found himself alone, inside the fog.
He cursed under his breath. “Matthias?”
No answer.
Even without the old man’s magic, the area still held a faint aura, providing just enough light for Bram to proceed. He pressed onward, until he reached a small clearing. There was still fog on all sides, billowing with thin tendrils, held in place by an invisible force. The clearing was ten spans in radius, illuminated with a pale ambience.
It was the end of the path. Bram called out to the darkness. “I wish to speak to Asura Mazda.”
No response.
He thought a moment before calling out again. “My cause is worthy. I fight a great evil, but … I’m not strong enough to face it. Please, if you’re a Great Sage, grant me your aid.”
He waited, at a loss for how to proceed. After all the places he had traveled and all that he had sacrificed, he felt there had to be more than just an empty chamber.
He tried again. “The world is in danger. If we don’t fight back, the Ahrimen will destroy everything! Listen to me!”
He screamed, feeling frustrated and despondent. Groaning, he sank to his knees and wondered if his whole journey had been in vain.
As he ruminated over his regrets, he saw a shadow lurking within the mist. It looked like a man. He stood up, ready to greet the figure, which slowly came into detail. But as it stepped into the clearing, he recoiled in horror.
A Gnostic Knight, large and foreboding, adorned with its hideous helm, stood before him. He had never truly faced a Knight without the safety of his own Gnostic armor. This time, he felt its terrible presence.
He steadied his voice. “Who are you?”
The Knight removed his helm.
Bram felt his body tense. “Samuel!”
The Knight looked smug. “Then it’s true. You survived my assault, after all.”
Bram knew how vulnerable he was. Samuel was too great a wizard to evade by diving into the mist. He was defenseless, but no matter what happened, he wasn’t about to cower.
He faced his opponent brazenly. “Come to finish me off?”
The Knight grunted. “Do you truly believe insolence is the best way to greet your superior? Had you behaved better in Loulan, you would have had a much happier ending. I assure you.”
Bram felt nothing but anger. “As a slave to the Ahriman? Ha! I’ll take my freedom over your empty promises, any day!”
Samuel merely shook his head. “Hardly. You wouldn’t have been much good to us as Belial’s thrall.”
Bram gritted his teeth. “Enough with your games. I don’t know how you tracked me here, but you might as well finish me.”
Samuel took a foreboding step forward, Enough that Bram stepped back, instinctively.
“I could destroy you in an instant. And I still might. But that’s not why I’m here.”
Bram said nothing, but he eyed the Knight skeptically.
“That’s better.” Samuel tossed his helm aside. “There. A small token, so you know I mean you no harm.”
Bram figured he’d test that claim. “What about your sword? Wouldn’t that be the better token?”
Samuel paused before drawing the dark blade from its sheath. It vibrated with magical energy. More than Bram had ever seen. He remembered that sword cleaving through his own Gnostic blade. Its power was immense. Just seeing it again filled him with terror.
Samuel gazed at the sword for a moment before driving it into the ground. It went right through the stone, midway to the shaft, while causing the room to shake.
When the rumbling subsided, Samuel redirected his gaze. “Anything else?”
The former Knight relaxed. He would have never believed that Samuel would honor any kind of parley. But so far, he seemed willing.
“I’m listening. So, how did you find me?”
The Knight chuckled. “How mundane. You could have asked for anything, yet you chose to ask for that which you should have already known the answer.”
Bram’s eyes narrowed. “Enlighten me, anyway.”
Samuel frowned. “You’ll know the moment you stop denying our bond … Brother.”
Bram couldn’t deny it. Somehow, it felt right. More than that, it felt like he always knew. Nevertheless, it hurt. He had always yearned to find a blood relative, but now he wished he had remained ignorant.
“Perhaps I denied our bond because I couldn’t believe my own brother wanted me dead. Or that he despised me enough to expose me to a demon. Or that he convinced my best friend to betray me and murder an entire village of people. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Bram had to pause to repress his rage. He had wanted to confront Samuel for so long that he practically shook with fury. “You want to know why I refused you in Loulan? It’s because you repulse me. Your aggression and cruelty knows no bounds. Because of you, countless are dead at Ur … and at Rungholt … and at Loulan. Just so you could achieve some kind of ‘eternal life’? You might have convinced Kane, but I’ll have nothing to do with your madness!”
Samuel remained calm and collected. “You’ve got it all wrong.” He took another bold step forward. Unarmed, he was less imposing, but his size inside his Gnostic armor still towered over Bram.
“I’ve always hated you. That much is true. But I never wanted you dead. Despite my temper and the spell that nearly killed you, I never intended for it to end that way. Would you like to know why?”
Again, Bram pushed his anger aside so he could listen. He wanted to know. “How does a person hate someone they never met? I never even knew you existed until two weeks ago.”
“From your standpoint, maybe.” Samuel’s voice remained calm. “You never noticed, but I’ve watched you your entire life. I was forbidden to interfere, of course, and you’ll understand why in a moment. Nevertheless, I envied you. You were raised as a normal child … by a loving father. I, on the other hand, was forced to train to be a champion from the moment I took my first breath.”
He let out a sigh, though it almost sounded like repressed anger. “For many years, I suffered with a strict upbringing. But it made me strong. I was raised by a powerful wizard, who taught me incredible magic, which I practiced daily. I did everything I could to perfect my mastery of both magic and the sword. Yet, none of it mattered. Because our father chose you.”
Bram felt a chasm open in his chest. “Our … father?”
Samuel’s eyes narrowed. “Everything I’ve ever done has been in furtherance of our father’s will. I’ve been the dutiful son, every moment of my life. And yet, it was always so I could come in second. Only you, Abraham, were meant to be first! That is why I despise you.”
Bram couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The world seemed to be turned upside down. He considered all that had happened over the past month.
“I understand now why Virgil chose me for Minoa … why Kane wanted me to follow orders and release the demonspawn at Ur … and why you attempted to take me captive at Loulan!”
Samuel was expressionless. “I’ve waited a long time to hear those words.”
Bram wanted to scream. Part of it made sense, but only if his father was some kind of demented megalomaniac looking to control the world with the Ahrimen’s powers. Such a man was the antithesis of everything he stood for.
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He was so flustered, his first thought wasn’t to criticize, but to beg for answers. “Why …?”
What Samuel and Virgil had already done, unapologetically, at their father’s behest, was so depraved that it went beyond mere condemnation. Bram needed answers.
“How could you and Father have done so much harm? Why release the Ahrimen and create so much suffering? Why … why do any of this?”
The Samuel he knew might have been reproachful to such a challenge, but the man who stood before him sighed and spoke calmly. “There comes a point, Abraham, when the world is so wicked that the sinful can no longer be saved.”
Bram stared at his brother in disbelief. It was the last thing he expected him to say.
“What?”
Samuel continued, unabashed. “When the world is so irredeemable, it is better to burn it down and start over. By collecting the sunstones and bringing them to Axismundi at the appointed time, we can dispose of the old world and build one anew. Our father wants us to live in this world, this better world, and he wants you to help make it.”
Bram’s heart leapt in his chest. The idea of a better world was incongruent with the crimes against humanity for which Samuel was already guilty. “What about the Ahrimen?”
The Knight explained. “We both get what we want. The Ahrimen harvest and feed on the souls of the wicked, which they will have in spades in the remains of the old world. Those who deserve better will come with us and live in paradise. A world … that’s called Pleroma.”
Bram was stunned. It was a lot to take in. But one question still burned in his mind. “Who is our father? I want to speak with him.”
Samuel shook his head. “It’s not that easy.”
Bram was still wary of his brother’s trickery. He couldn’t accept any of Samuel’s claims without first hearing straight from the source. “Why not?”
“Because … our father is not of the physical realm. Compared to those of this world … he’s a god. He awaits us on Pleroma. Communing with him in the meantime is a feat best reserved for special circumstances. Nevertheless, if you follow me, I believe it won’t take long before you and he inevitably speak.”
“Then … he’s a Great Sage?” Bram had once dismissed the idea, but Samuel’s description left no doubt.
The Knight nodded. “Mankind once called him that, but he’s so much more. He’s no more a sage than we are ants.”
“His name … is it Remiel?”
Samuel’s face darkened. “Never utter that name again. You refer to one who is a traitor and a disgrace. Fortunately, he was destroyed, long ago. Our father’s name is Azazel. Remember it well.”
Bram was confused. “If our father is on Pleroma, how were we born on Gaia to live as humans?”
Samuel seemed to be losing patience. “For every answer, there are scores more questions. And time enough to ask them all later. Not here, in this forsaken chamber. We should leave these illusions to the wretched spirits who live here. Now, come.”
He held out a gauntleted hand, but Bram wasn’t ready. It was all too much to take in. “Samuel, wait. I need to know more about what happens after we leave this world. How many can come with us? And how would we separate the wicked from the righteous?”
Samuel didn’t look happy to provide more answers. “I told you, already. Our father has given you the privilege of defining this new world. You will get to choose who follows. You will get to determine what it means to be righteous.”
Bram didn’t feel worthy of such a role. “How am I supposed to judge another human being? I’ve made mistakes in my life, yet I’ve been given a chance to move forward. Aren’t others afforded the same mercy?”
Samuel grunted with displeasure. “You must give the Ahrimen their share, as part of our agreement. Beyond that, it matters not. Take the rest or take none. It is your prerogative.”
“Samuel, we can’t!” Of this, he was certain. “If the Ahrimen demand even one good man or woman, we are handing over that person to an eternity of suffering. I need to clean my conscience. I can’t go back to the days when I lived in ignorance and harmed others.”
“Then you’re a fool.” Samuel’s anger had grown beyond his patience to control it. “There’s no way to reach Pleroma without separating the sunstones from the Ahrimen. We need their cooperation. Defy them to save a few, and you’d doom the rest!”
Bram wasn’t backing down. “We can’t be so blinded by the cause that we’d sacrifice our own principles to achieve it. Let’s just think it through. There has to be another way. One in which we won’t need to cooperate with demons or cause more suffering.”
Samuel drew his sword from the stone floor. Bram felt its radiating hatred.
“I have no time for recreants. You have your answers, and you understand the stakes. Nothing gets in the way of Father’s plans. Not even you. I’ll make sure of it.”
Bram felt his insides churn. “Is that it, then? If I don’t join, you’ll turn your sword on me?”
Samuel shook his head. “Father doesn’t want you dead. Therefore, neither do I. But, should you forsake us … we’ll leave you among the wicked on this dying world.”
Bram felt torn. “What about Rosa? What have you done to her?”
“She’s safe and awaits your return. But, only if you accept your place among us.”
Bram shook his head. Samuel could have been lying, yet … the offer was tempting.
“I ….” He took a deep breath and released it. “I can’t follow you, Samuel.”
The Knight radiated anger.
Bram felt the need to justify his beliefs. “You’re right, though. The world is wicked … and unjust. The idea of saving people and taking them to paradise … it’s a just cause, and one in which any man would be proud to be a part. Although, perhaps it’s so great, it’s easy to lose sight of what really matters. If reaching paradise means we need to sacrifice the world we already have, then we have a responsibility to the lives who are already here.”
Samuel was clearly not swayed, so Bram tried again. “Listen … I spent years as a Gnostic, fighting for Angkor. Only now do I regret the harm I caused to many innocent people. True, it felt right at the time, but I was so focused on my homeland that I failed to respect the lives of civilians caught in the middle. We can’t cast anyone aside and call it an acceptable loss. We must be better than that.”
He reached out to his brother. “Please … let’s talk to Father about it … together.”
Samuel only nodded, as a wisp of fog enveloped him. In mere moments, the fog cleared, and the Knight was gone.
Bram looked around the room, furious. “What’s the meaning of this? Was it all an illusion?” He was fuming. “Show yourself! Stop toying with me!”
The fog circled before him, slowing coalescing into a shape that was vaguely human. It lacked complete form, but it had a head and a body, and it spoke in an ethereal voice.
“Yes. It was an illusion, Child. But, it contained powerful insights. I showed it to you, because the Samuel you know believes the same as the one with whom you just spoke. In this way, you were able to learn his true motives.”
Bram supposed he ought to be grateful, but the whole experience left an emotional sting that was hard to ignore. “You must be Asura Mazda. Are you really … a Great Sage?”
The fog hesitated a moment before responding. “The local priests have called me that name for a very long time. I believe they mistook me for an old man who once took residence here. That man’s spirit has long since returned to the Zohar. I am … Baraqiel.”
Bram felt encouraged. “That … illusion of Samuel. You claim he spoke the truth?”
“He spoke what his self in the corporeal world believes is true.” Baraqiel paused before adding. “Might I ask a question?”
Bram had plenty of his own that he yearned to ask, but he felt it was fair for the spirit to pose one, first. “What is it?”
“You harbor incredible anger toward your brother. Anger that is well deserved. Yet, in the end, you reached out and offered to come to terms. Why?”
Bram thought long and hard. “I still hate Samuel for what he’s done. Even so … I can’t hate him more than I hate myself, especially when he and I are guilty of the same crimes. If you know anything about what I’ve endured these past few days … the guilt and sorrow I’ve struggled to overcome … then you know that Samuel walks the same path and must eventually confront these things, too. I just … I want to believe in him.”
The fog shimmered. “I understand. You see some of yourself in Samuel, and part of your own healing compels you to also forgive your brother. That suggests strong empathy, and perhaps, strong faith that your brother will someday come to the same conclusions as you.”
Bram sighed. “If I can do it, so can he. Nevertheless, I know in the meantime, he’ll still be a dangerous adversary.”
The fog seemed to nod in acknowledgement. “Indeed. Your path is perilous. Especially if you intend to stand against Azazel and the Ahrimen.”
Bram wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I came all this way to plead for aid. But now … I’m not sure going up against the Ahrimen and a Great Sage is even possible. Or … if I even should. I still want to protect the innocents of this world and atone for my sins, but … maybe my father’s right. Maybe the world needs to start over, and I should put my efforts toward helping people to reach Pleroma.”
Baraqiel’s voice turned grave. “Listen well, Child. Samuel might believe he is doing the world a service, but nothing good ever comes from a pact with the Ahrimen. They are Children of Chaos, and allying with them will only lead to ruin. Their thirst for pain and suffering is unquenchable.”
Bram scoffed. “Then tell him that! It would be better coming from another Great Sage, don’t you think?”
The fog regarded him dispassionately. “My powers have limits, imprisoned as I am within this shrine. Long have I awaited the Savior to enter this chamber. I foretold your coming years ago. You are the only one capable of defending this world from utter destruction.”
Bram took a step back. “What do you mean? I can’t be the Savior.”
The fog was insistent. “You are Nephilim, son of a powerful spirit, and you shall inherit the strength of your father. Though you struggle with decisions from your past, you cannot deny your compassion for others and desire to make things right.”
Bram said nothing. It seemed Baraqiel wasn’t getting the message. It was true that he wanted to make a difference, but he also wanted to steer clear of confronting the Ahrimen directly. Entire nations fought and lost against these immortal demons. He didn’t want to throw his life away; an ant, crushed beneath the boot of their power.
Baraqiel seemed to read his mind. “You doubt your strength? Listen, Former Knight. You believed in yourself once, back when you donned your dark armor, and things are not so different, now that you’ve cast it aside. You had strength even before you joined the Gnostic order. Perhaps, all you need is a new standard.”
The fog became a whirlwind, which swirled along the ground. When it returned to bipedal form, it left behind a set of powerful relics. Bram marveled at a greatsword and set of plate armor, which were made of silver and gold, with a brilliant sheen and mirrorlike surface. In the place of a helm was an elegant diadem. It hardly seemed to offer direct protection, but nevertheless radiated protective power. Unlike Samuel’s Gnostic blade, these relics felt holy and good. Bram had never seen such beautiful military gear. They were magnificent.
Baraqiel’s voice explained. “These relics are from an order of knights known as the Grigori. Blessed by the Great Sages, they evened the odds and gave mankind a fighting chance against the Ahrimen.”
Bram beheld the gifts with great respect. “You really think it’s possible to destroy an immortal demon?”
The fog swirled. “As you say, the Ahrimen are immortal and cannot be slain like ordinary beasts. This is why, many years ago, it was more practical for us to imprison them, instead.”
Bram shook his head. “Why me? If you can conjure these artifacts, why don’t you fight the Ahrimen?”
Baraqiel remained silent for a long time before speaking. “Sadly, the time of the Great Sages has passed. My powers have dwindled considerably. Were my desire to see an end to the Ahrimen not as strong, I would have faded away long ago.”
“What happened?” Bram yearned to know more. “If the Great Sages were victorious in the Omega War, how did you end up here? And how did Azazel end up on Pleroma, in a position to bargain with the Ahrimen?”
If possible, the fog appeared melancholy. “A tragic tale, one best discovered on your own, rather than from my perspective.”
Bram felt frustrated. “I don’t know what you really expect from me. You haven’t told me anything useful, and this armor and sword won’t be enough to go against Samuel or Virgil, much less the Ahrimen. Like I told you, I can’t be your Savior. I don’t have power over wizards and demons.”
The fog seemed to bristle. “The sword and armor are imbued with powerful blessings. Beyond that, you are Nephilim. You will inherit the strength of your father. You only need to believe in yourself.”
Bram sighed. The power to finally face his adversaries was within reach. But, somehow, it wasn’t what he truly wanted. He touched his chest. It felt heavy underneath. The power of the Savior wasn’t what he sought. There was something else.
“I know what you truly yearn for, dear Nephilim. The heart cannot lie.”
Bram squeezed his eyes shut. His chest ached. “Tell me this, Baraqiel: if I accept this power, will I get what I truly want?”
The fog swirled. “The sorceress, Rosalyn … and the child from Ur ….”
Bram almost leapt forward. “Yes! Where are they? Are they safe?”
If fog could be seen as forlorn, such was Baraqiel’s expression. “Their spirits still burn brightly, though I cannot say for how much longer.”
“What can you tell me?” Bram braced himself, fearing the worst.
“With my powers so limited, their locations are beyond my reach, and their futures remain uncertain. Rosa is at the mercy of capricious captors, and … the child … though they are protected by the spirit of Uriel, I fear ….”
“What?” The ache in Bram’s chest had grown to the point where it nearly brought him to his knees. “Tell me!”
The fog stared back at him. “I sense a change in Uriel’s spirit that is … unnatural. You must find them, Nephilim, before it’s too late. I cannot do more than I already have, and I won’t coerce you into accepting anything that isn’t in your heart.”
The fog changed shape, returning to a fine mist. The voice slowly faded as it spoke. “The choice is yours. Should you accept the power, you may seek answers from the Gurudeva, who already knows the prophesy of your coming. On the other hand, should you choose to leave now, you will be able to live a normal life … at least … until the end ….”
Baraqiel’s voice was gone, and the cloud of fog dispersed. Beyond the Grigori armor, a path opened up, leading back to the stone bridge.
Bram didn’t feel there was much of a choice. Without the power, he had no hope of finding Rosa or Yuri. Yet, with it came a burden that was likely impossible to fulfill. He didn’t have the right training, nor did he have the right experience. Whether brave or stupid, there was only one choice that provided him with a chance of reuniting with his loved ones.
He held out his hand and reached for the Grigori armor. As he made contact, he was blinded by a bright light. It felt cleansing, like a holy fire that burned straight through flesh and bone, illuminating the soul. When his vision cleared, he saw the armor already on his body. The sword, attached to a sheath at his waist. And the diadem, comfortably on his head. He reached up and touched it, wondering if it was real, or just another illusion.
Things happened so fast. He still wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to take on the Ahrimen, but it seemed his life was once again directed by Fate.
He remembered what Baraqiel told him. He needed to return to the Minoan temple and report back to the Gurudeva. But, first, he needed to find Matthias and Mica. He followed the path back to the stone bridge, surprised to find them already there waiting for him. They stared in awe.
Mica spoke first. “Wow … I can’t believe it’s really you.” She looked him up and down, almost looking a bit disappointed. “Asura Mazda already told me. I guess you were the Savior, after all. Congratulations. You look just like the warriors on the bridge.”
Sure enough, the armor worn by the stone guardians was the very same. Bram was surprised he hadn’t noticed it earlier.
Matthias had his own form of praise. “My, oh my. Startin’ from a man who had once walked th’ path o’ darkness, you’ve certainly come a long way, friend. Ah suspect we have much to discuss about our experiences. Gather close.”
Bram approached, and Matthias waved his arms and spoke in the language of magic. In an instant, Bram found himself at the top of the crevasse.
Mica looked impressed. “Translocation with two passengers? How’d you manage?”
The old man cracked a smile. “Uh … Ah might ‘ave gained a few gifts from our ‘friend’ inside the cavern.”
Bram wondered what else the old scholar might have learned from Baraqiel. “Let’s talk on the way back.”
Matthias nodded. “With mae new powers, the return trip should take a fraction o’ time.”
Bram was relieved. He didn’t want to spend another moment in the Minoan wilderness. On the other hand, his dangerous journey had just begun.