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The priests: Irlenuit and Furtifer
She reappeared two minutes later, in travel clothes, a sharp blade hanging at her belt and a heavy silver chain around her neck, half-hidden under her shirt. She seemed surprised to see him still standing in the middle of the room.
"Well? Having second thoughts?"
"Not really. Don't you fear for your house?"
"Nobody's stupid enough to try to break in a Guardian's house. Don't worry, I defended this house well. So, can we go?"
"I'm just behind you!"
"Do you have a mount or am I supposed to provide one for you?" asked Delilah, closing - or more accurately, slamming - the door behind her.
"I think I can find one by myself, thank you," replied Tyrael, amused.
"Are you sure? I mean, up there, you probably have ten horses or better, but are you going to summon a mount from Heaven and make it affront Zeloran or Ordreth? I guess your beasts are not warhorses."
"Good thinking in truth. I didn't think of it."
"Nah. Men never think; I see Angels are the same," she said mockingly.
He glared at her, not reacting otherwise to it.
"Do you have any spare mount?" he inquired.
"Of course I have, if not I wouldn't have proposed!"
When seeing the horses, Tyrael began to wonder about Delilah. The mount she gave him was a gelding, quite calm, though obviously liking to travel fast, but her own mount was a huge stallion, probably a warhorse, bay with a reddish sheen. The gaze of the horse was intelligent but it seemed there was a glint of mischief in it and Tyrael didn't like it the least.
"So where do we begin?"
"Irlenuit's temple. Her priests are not the easiest to get information from, but that's sort of fun."
"You seem to have a strange notion of fun. Is your stallion coming straight from Hell or what? He does look to me like a most vicious beast."
"Which is the case. But he's clever and I wouldn't be a good horsewoman if I wasn't able to tame a vicious horse."
"Quite true," agreed Tyrael. "But is it necessary? I mean, there are other horses probably as clever... and less vicious."
Delilah's horse had a scornful neigh and she patted his long neck.
"I know, I know," she murmured affectionately to the mean beast. "I didn't choose him, Tyrael. He chose me. When I went to find a horse for replacing the gelding you are riding, his gaze stopped me and it was literary saying that I would be his only master. So I became. In fact, saying we became companions would be more accurate."
"What's the problem with this gelding? It's calm and obedient."
"Well, a bit too calm for my taste. I like fanciful horses."
"Is it a taste coming from your father?"
"Oh yes, my mother liked quiet horses, huh? Listen, Tyrael, I never knew my father, you should know that. He died before my birth. I'm not my mother, Tyrael, I have the right to like things she didn't like, if it's alright with you."
"I'm sorry, I keep forgetting you don't wish to be reminded of her."
"By all the gods above, Tyrael," she exclaimed, exasperated, "maybe you don't remember, but we humans are mortal. So maybe you see my mother quite often in that realm of yours and can fancy she's still alive, but for me, she died when I was fifteen. Furthermore she died in such horrible way that each time I say her name, everybody calls her 'demon' in front of me and I'm cast away. Do you think it's an easy life to live for a fifteen-years-old? Do you think it's easy to say that I never knew my father and that my mother is considered to be a Demon?"
As if he was understanding her grief, her horse hastened the pace, leaving behind a Tyrael quite ashamed of himself.
"And if you really want to know," she added tonelessly, "if I am to believe my mother, my father was a great traveller and he loved horses; he even was reputed for his horsemanship."
"Delilah, I'm very sorry and I do sincerely apologise."
She shrugged.
"That's alright. At least it could be sort of consoling to see that someone doesn't remember her as a Demon..."
"... if you needed consolation," completed Tyrael.
"Exactly. We arrive to Irlenuit's temple. Are you sure her priests can't see you?"
"Yes I am."
"Very well. In this case, welcome into the realm of night, secrets and silence!" said Delilah with grand flourish.
She dismounted and patted her horse before saying:
"Stay here, wait for me. Watch over the gelding."
"He really understands you?"
"I told you he was clever, didn't I?" retorted simply Delilah.
She went to the door, which had been left ajar, and slightly pushed it. The door opened without a single noise.
"Aren't we going to knock or something?"
"Knock?" repeated Delilah in a whisper. "Are you crazy? This temple is more silent than a tomb. Why would you knock? The sound would deafen them! Tell me everything, you don't know a thing about Irlenuit's ways, do you?"
"Well, I never had the honour of meeting her..."
"Oh gods!" sighed Delilah. "Why me?"
"I'm sorry," said Tyrael ruefully. "I guess I'm more a burden to you than anything. I shouldn't have insisted to accompany you."
"Hush! It's too late now. Open your ears and learn!"
"How is it nobody's here?"
"We have to pass the test first, of course," replied Delilah, stopping in a circular room.
Tyrael looked shocked.
"You mean the priests are not available?"
"Very rarely. Vitriana's priests are. Except if you ask for sanctuary, of course. In this case, you just shout the word and the priests are here for you."
"What kind of tests?" asked Tyrael still revolted.
"Well, for example, for reaching Ariella's temple, you have to cross a field of blue roses, the roses of oblivion. You need to be really motivated for going there. The test is called Scent of the Blue Roses. Or for Chyraz's temple, you have the Stair of Faith. It takes me forever each time to reach the last step."
"And here?"
"The Feel of the Night. Now, be silent. Let me do; the priests have taken a vow of silence, except the one receiving the people for the week, and it's really cruel to force them to break it."
"I follow your lead. What is the test about?"
"Better not to tell you, you are going to experience it by yourself. But there's an old rhyme about it."
She recited sotto voce:
"In the ray of black light - feeling blind -
Silence surrounding - feeling deaf -
Unable to move - feeling paralysed -
Resist the urge of not feeling dumb."
"Doesn't make much sense to me."
"Makes to me. Wait for me here, Vakhra should soon be here - I hope."
She knelt in the middle of the room, sat on her heels, entwined her fingers on her lap and closed her eyes. The last one wasn't really useful for suddenly the whole room was plunged into darkness. Tyrael couldn't even see the hair lock usually covering his right eye.
An oppressing silence felt on the room and not even the breathings could be heard. The Archangel was glad to be used to silence, for this one was really disturbing. He wondered how Delilah was doing; she had passed the test probably several times, but he was sure the priests - or Irlenuit - had a way to make it tougher on those who already had passed it. The silent darkness was driving him mad and he almost wanted to shout, just to be sure he could hear his own voice. He tried to move a hand, in case the cloth of his sleeve would produce some sounds, but he realised he couldn't move. Panic threatened to overwhelm him and he tried to reason himself. Delilah couldn't have lured him into a trap, he would never believe such a thing.
Thinking of Delilah, he still hadn't heard anything from her, but maybe it was because of that deafening silence; maybe she had called for help and he hadn't heard her! Worry replaced his panic and he tried to overpower that force paralysing him. In vain. He couldn't even move an eyelid; actually, all he could move was his lips and the urge of shouting became greater. But his lips remained sealed; Delilah had told him to be silent and again his thoughts came back to the lithe girl. How could she pass such tests? This one was a torture, with this impression of blindness, deafness and paralysis. And to crown it all, he had the impression time itself had stopped; who had ever heard of an Archangel being stuck for eternity on the mortal world, blind, deaf and paralysed in a temple?
Closing or opening the eyes wouldn't change anything to the surrounding blackness; not a single light spot that would help him to distinguish something. Not a single sound could reach his ears and yet, he knew he was breathing, he knew Delilah was breathing too. Why couldn't he hear her? He wanted to reach for her, to be sure she was still alive, but his arm was still by his side, impossible to move. Tyrael felt his sanity disappear into a swirl of madness. It couldn't be! It was impossible! And yet, here he was, in the impossible situation...
After what felt like an eternity, the darkness faded away, revealing Delilah still keeling in the middle.
"Are you alright?" asked Tyrael with concern, helping her to stand up.
"Of course," she replied softly, visibly surprised.
"You seem so quiet, so in peace... How could you pass such a test?"
"It was difficult for you because you were trying to see, to hear and to move. I wasn't. I didn't try to move, my eyes were closed and I was concentrating on something else. I was perfectly relaxed, thinking of a prayer dedicated to Irlenuit and reciting it mentally. Actually I like this test. It's a great moment of calm."
She was smiling and he knew she was sincere. A priest entered the room and slightly nodded when recognising Delilah.
"Vakhra, anything new?" she asked while silently greeting him in return.
"The Demons are restless," said Vakhra in a whisper. "It is for very soon. You must hurry, Guardian."
"I know, this is my last visit before going into fight."
"Remember something, Demon's child: silence may be a greater weapon than a sword," said Vakhra before leaving.
Curiously Delilah hadn't even winced when hearing the priest call her 'Demon's child'; she was probably used to it by now.
"Come," she whispered to Tyrael. "We must leave now."
"But we didn't learn anything!" protested the Archangel.
"We did. The moment is near, we'll probably be short in time. And Demons would be sensitive to silence," she added thoughtfully. "I can't understand that. I hope I'll understand later..."
Tyrael frowned. Since the beginning he sensed something wrong, decaled. Nothing with Lilith had looked like that, never had he felt so useless. But then, remembering Delilah's reluctance to let him come with her, maybe it was her way to make him pay. They went out, where they found back their horses, mounted and left Irlenuit's temple for Furtifer's.
"Alright, now you explain to me why an Angel doesn't know anything about the ways of the gods," she asked dryly.
"I wouldn't call that the ways of the gods, but rather the ways of the priests. I didn't know them because I don't bother going to a priest, I go directly to the god I want to talk to," he replied with dignity.
"Well, I can't so I have to follow the priests' rules and play their game. Anyway, in spite of your well-founded ignorance, I bet you would like to know why you feel so useless in my company."
"How do you know?"
She shrugged.
"You're like a human to me, Tyrael, and I've learnt to read people's faces. So am I wrong or right?"
"You're right. Sorry to remind you this, but I hadn't that impression with Lilith. I don't remember her telling me anything about tests in the temple."
"There's a reason to that, Tyrael. My mother never went to the temples. She established her reputation as a Guardian and then waited for the priests' emissaries to come to her. If they didn't come, it was fine: she didn't care. I don't work this way. I go to see them and they come to see me, each in turn."
"Why?"
"Did you hear how Vakhra called me? 'Demon's child' and yet Vakhra is one of the nicest priests. For the priests I'm the Demon's child who happens to be a Guardian and I need to prove to them over and over again that I'm still a Guardian and that I can pass their tests. Of course, they would never acknowledge it, but I chose to reassure them this way. My mother hadn't any bad reputation till her death, but I'm carrying her infamous death on my shoulder. For the priests, Delilah doesn't exists; there's only the Guardian, the Demon's child or Lilith's daughter and, trust me on this, I carry this name more like a burden than with pride!"
"You know exactly what happened to your mother?" wondered Tyrael aloud.
"Like what she was lured into a trap by Angels and left there to die because she was getting allies among the Demons? Yes, I know the story and yet, I'm still a Guardian, fighting with Angels against Demons. The truth is entirely different, but, if you don't know it, you will learn it in time."
"What?"
"It's too early now," she replied with a shiver. "Alright, here is Furtifer's temple. Wait for me outside. I don't want you inside. I hate Furtifer's test."
"What is it?"
"It's called Expiation and the name says it all. You're punished for a sin or a mean action that you did. The problem is, if they can't find one in your past, they find one in your future and punish you for something you didn't do... yet. Furtifer being the god of punishment, it's rarely enjoyable to go to his temple. It's probably why nobody ever comes... except to bring punishment on someone else's head, of course."
"Have you already been punished for something you didn't do yet?"
"Yes and I certainly hope I did something bad since last time I came here!" she said, trying to laugh.
"And what if they are wrong and it doesn't happen?"
"Then too bad for you," shrugged Delilah, jumping down her horse. "Stay here and be good, you," she murmured affectionately to her vicious steed.
He snorted, looking at Tyrael as to ask what he had done to deserve to stay with him. Tyrael ignored it.
"Do we really need to see these priests if it's dangerous?"
"It would be nice if it was that easy, Tyrael," she said, climbing the stair of the temple. "Ignore a god and he will punish you. Go see his priests and they will test you. Nothing's simple. But we do need them. Punishment and Demons are often linked, especially when Demons are banished from the mortal world. Alright, have to go now."
She disappeared in the temple and Tyrael had to resign himself to wait for her, wondering how it would feel to be punished for something one would perhaps never do. He thought all these practices were barbaric and he wondered if the gods themselves knew how their temples were run.
Delilah had hardly the time to reach the end of the entrance corridor before an eerie voice whispered to her:
"You are going to commit something irremediable, Guardian..."
She closed her eyes, wishing she could cover her ears and stop that insidious voice, but nothing could be done and she already knew it. She stopped where she was; it was useless to go further.
"What am I going to do?" she asked aloud.
"You are going to break a well-thought rule and thus bring our doom... and our world to the Demons, both those lurking in your soul and those willing to invade us."
"No, never! Never will I let the Demons come to our world, not as long as I'm alive!"
"But who said you would still be alive?" whispered the voice caressingly.
Delilah took a deep breath.
"Then is there worse punishment than to let me know that I'll die failing?"
"This is only part of your punishment, Demon's child" said the voice with contempt. "You must expiate!"
She bent down the head; it was no use arguing, Furtifer's priests would have their way anyway. And so they beat the living daylights out of her, trying to break her pride and to drive away the demons lurking in her soul and she endured it without any resentment, jaws clenched tight for not shouting her pain. When leaving her prone the voice said softly:
"Before going to fight the Demons, you will reveal to your companion all he must know about you. If you do not, we shall see that you cannot continue your quest and you will die without having proved yourself innocent, while we will have invested someone else with the powers having been misplaced in you!"
Delilah raised up the head and a gleam of anger shone briefly in her eyes.
"Do you have something to tell me about the Demons?" she asked between clenched teeth.
"They are restless; we would say they are ready, but it seems they are waiting for something. Be careful, Guardian, they could be waiting for you."
"I would rather die!" she spat out.
"Then listen to us, Demon's child, here is the chance to prove to us all our mistrust is unfounded... What we give you is the result of a pact between Illustra and us, so do not bother going to Illustra's temple, except if you wish to face the Call of Fears... This is a punishment entwined with a curse, which can only be aimed at Demons... or you. Use it against them and we will be rid of them for as long as you will dare to give... Let the Demons take possession of our world and our gift will turn back on you, dooming your soul for all eternity... if you really have one. Now go, Demon's child!"
Delilah didn't thank them nor politely take her leave from them. She crawled back outside, far too proud to ask a priest for help - which they would have provided no matter what.
Tyrael had a cry of indignation when seeing her passing the door with difficulty. She had managed to stand up but she was hardly able to stay on her feet and if not for the wall, she would have fallen. She had no idea how she would do to go down the stair, even for only five steps.
Both Tyrael and the vicious stallion reacted at the same time; the horse slid his neck under her arm, preventing her to fall. Tyrael lifted her in his arms almost immediately and she couldn't restrain a cry of pain as his arm touched her back.
"This is too much!" exclaimed Tyrael. "I will not allow this for any longer! The gods must know, especially Furtifer!"
For all answer Delilah moaned and it was obvious, at her face twisted with pain, that she was fighting all she could for not shouting. He slowly knelt, trying to move her the least possible. The stallion came nearby and breathed on her, hoping she would open the eyes or talk to him. As by magic she reacted to his concern; half-opening her eyes, she forced her lips into a smile.
"It's going... to be alright, Cin," she panted.
He neighed, pushing her gently with her nose.
"Cin..." she protested weakly. "I'm going to be fine, silly!"
"Keep your strength," commanded Tyrael, a frown on his brow.
"I'll be fine," protested Delilah again. "They are not allowed to kill..."
"Did they already beat you that bad before?" asked Tyrael, looking closely at her wounds.
"N-no... They were angry with me, they said I'm going to do something terrible that will give the world to the Demons."
"That's a stopping thought," commented Tyrael, obviously not very attentive to what she was saying.
"What are you doing?"
"Hush," he replied absent-mindedly.
Gently he put his hand on her right shoulder and had a smile of apologise when she jerked away in pain. His hand became very warm against her torn skin but strangely it didn't hurt; on the contrary she had the impression the pain was going away. She closed hey eyes with a sigh a relief and slightly relaxed in Tyrael's arms. The Archangel repeated the process everywhere she was wounded, proceeding slowly and carefully, and the only effect it seemed to have on him was to intensify a slight glow around him.
When she opened her eyes, so long after she had come out of the temple, not feeling anything anymore, Tyrael was shining an unreal light and she could see like a halo above his head. His face, seeming ageless, was looking calm and peaceful, but there were worry and concern in the depths of the blue eyes. She had a faint dreamy smile.
"Am I in Heaven?" she said wonderingly. "I thought I would be forbidden to go here, me, the Demon's child. Everything's so beautiful and I could lose myself in the seas of your eyes..."
She was delirious, there was no other explanation to her words! He was losing her despite all his powers and he couldn't - wouldn't - accept it. He tightened his grip on her and suddenly her smile turned into a grimace of pain.
"Pain! Only pain and grief torturing me... Somebody end it, please..."
She fixed her eyes veiled with suffering on Tyrael and begged:
"Please, gentle Angel, put an end to my torment and kill me..."
Something was terribly wrong. He knew he had healed her. She hadn't recovered all the strength yet, but she shouldn't feel any pain. What had those priests done to her?
He cradled her in his arms as she was writhing in pain, almost as if she was trying to escape him. The huge stallion next to him was neighing sadly, his clever eyes begging Tyrael to do something and still, in the Archangel's mind, this sentence was resounding over and over:
"Put an end to my torment and kill me..."
Was it really what he was supposed to do? Would that prevent the terrible deed she would commit and that she was already expiating for? Or, on the contrary, would that precipitate it? Looking at Delilah's face twisted in pain, he couldn't believe she would let Demons invade the world. If so, why would she have accepted to endure such pain? Why would she have gone to Furtifer's temple, knowing she would be punished? And yet, in her eyes he couldn't read any condemnation; there had been only sadness when she had said they were angry with her...
She was calm now, her head on his shoulder, eyes closed, softly breathing. Then her eyes snapped open and her gaze was on fire, invaded by a golden glow, as if she wasn't in control of herself. By that moment right now, she really deserved the name of 'Demon's child', for never more than now was she truly looking like a Demon, with her eyes blazing liquid fire. She slightly pushed him away and called:
"Cin!"
The huge stallion was immediately at hand's reach. She grasped his mane and went away from Tyrael's embrace, leaning quite heavily against the horse.
"Cin?" repeated Tyrael, determined not to let show how much she had just hurt him.
"Cinnabar. Thank you for the healing. It helps," she replied, not looking at him.
"That's the useful point of having an Angel by your side," shrugged Tyrael, standing up. "But you are still weak, be careful. Did those infamous priests tell you something interesting?"
"They gave me a weapon, very powerful, lots of warnings and threats and the advice of not going to Illustra's temple, which I'm not going to follow."
"Why so? I doubt that Illustra's priests are going to welcome you with tea and cookies!"
"They would rather let me starve," said Delilah with disdain. "But I need to pass the test; they weakened my confidence and I have to see if I'll be able to face my fears successfully."
"Will you be strong enough?"
"I better be; Illustra's temple is next step."
"I think now is the good time for me to leave briefly. The gods have to know!"
"Wait till the end, you'll have more arguments," suggested Delilah.
"You don't want me to go," he realised, surprised. "I mean, you don't want me to tell the gods."
She shrugged, grasping her saddle to mount.
"I came here countless times in ten years and I never had the idea to protest. The rules are what they are, they will not change them for my sake, even if an Archangel asks for it."
"But maybe the gods don't know!"
"They know, oh, believe me, they know! They can feel my pain each time and some of them actually enjoy it."
"Why didn't I feel it? I should have!" exclaimed Tyrael angrily. "What is it that veils everything coming from you to me?"
"Nothing but your own mind. I do not have any shield. You probably felt my pain, but didn't recognise it as mine, because, unconsciously, you were expecting another one."
Then he remembered that horrible impression he had had while she was in the temple, like someone dying slowly, eyes wide-opened on coming death, knowing it useless to fight but still screaming as claws were tearing the soul apart. He had dismissed the thought for concentrating on what was happening in the temple - and hadn't felt anything.
She knew he remembered when, looking at him, she saw the troubled gaze he raised toward her.
"There, you see, you've felt it."
"The gods help me, they tortured you!" he exclaimed.
"Tyrael, please... It's alright now. Thanks to you I'm feeling fine and we can continue."
Her eyes were no more golden and reluctantly he gave up, mounting his gelding.
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