The priests: Chyraz and Varaxador
Delilah shrugged and exclaimed:
"Time to go! Chyraz's priests are the next destination."
"Is there any risk of you dying again?" inquired Tyrael.
"I hope not. I don't think I have nine lives. Already two is almost a miracle..."
"One says the Demons have three," he smiled.
"Can't tell you for sure," she replied merrily, "I never tried to kill one three times in a row!"
Tyrael laughed, not noticing Delilah's slight wince and haunted look.
Riding again they ventured in the depths of the forest. Two temples were in the Whispering Forest and, naturally, none was near the Northern Trail. Chyraz's was far in the east and Zeloran's was on the west. From Ordreth's temple, Delilah didn't even care to go back to the trail; she cut short straight in the deep bushes and trees; Tyrael noticed immediately she was probably more than used to do so, for she wasn't directing Cinnabar; the reins were loose on the warhorse's neck and she was daydreaming while the stallion made his way. The forest was calm, disturbed only by the birds songs, but Tyrael could feel eyes on them. He wondered if Chyraz's priests would make any allusion to what had happened in Heaven; he hoped not. He had no desire of Delilah knowing all what had happened.
"Well, winged boy, you are rather silent today," she said suddenly. "Having second thoughts?"
"For the last time, no. Do you know Azrael?"
She turned the head to look at him and burst out laughing.
"Everybody knows Azrael."
"I mean, do you know him? Have you met him?"
"Of course. I'm a Guardian after all. Meeting Angels and Archangels - or Demons - is everyday life."
"You told me you had met only Raphael, Jyiel and Vileyam!"
"I never said only," she rectified coldly. "Don't assume too much of my words."
She was cold and distant suddenly and Tyrael thought sadly of the girl he had protected against the gods and death themselves. He sighed and wondered why she had so little of Lilith.
"How long did I remain dead?" asked Delilah, frowning.
Tyrael choked.
"Don't do that to me, winged boy," she said severely. "My delirium was not so a delirium. You brought me to Heaven, yelled at the gods and managed to have... let me see... Raphael healing me. Sweet Raphael. So?"
"You stayed one day in Heaven," said Tyrael reluctantly.
"Let me guess... Time in Heaven is not the same as here."
"True."
"Something like one day in Heaven for one month here?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Great," muttered Delilah. "It means we have one month less to be prepared... That's extremely short. I don't like this."
"What do you plan to do?"
"How long can you stay without sleeping?"
"I'm an Archangel," he replied as if the answer was obvious.
"Funny how it seems to be your favourite answer. I guess it means you don't need to sleep... too much."
"If you know so many Archangels, how is it you ignore this fact?"
"My, aren't we aggressive today! I work alone, winged boy, so I never was long enough with an Archangel to find the answer."
Tyrael understood the veiled reproach but didn't reply.
"So, now that you know I don't need sleep, what do you plan to do if I may ask?"
"You may ask, winged boy, it's always better when the general says to his soldiers in which Hell he's leading them... We are going to take the minimum rest, just enough to spare the horses, so that we will catch up the time we lost while I was dead."
Tyrael noticed she spoke almost with ease of her past death and he wondered how many people could have stood the same thing without being traumatised.
"Cinnabar is not so tough after all then, huh?" he said insolently.
"Cin would run in the fire for me, go beyond his strength and yet would still be able to win a speed race. He's no ordinary horse. I'm saying this for the gelding, not Cin."
"Sorry for asking silly questions, my lady."
Cinnabar snorted and Delilah didn't even bother to notice the bitterness in Tyrael's voice.
They were still riding and Tyrael knew they were going in the direction specified by Delilah only because of his angelic powers. How could she know? The trees were exactly alike, looking like copies of each other. Even the bushes all had the same new leaves or broken branches.
"Are we far from the temple?" he asked after a long silence - except for the whispers of the forest.
"Not really. The path is quite easy actually."
"Then why does nobody like this forest?"
"Because they usually lose their way or because the murmurs get on their nerves," shrugged Delilah. "That's why they rather travel in company. They feel safer."
"Are they?"
"Hardly. Actually, if you have to spend the night in the forest, you have more chances to awake if you are alone. They may overlook you."
"They?"
"The creatures of the forest. They don't like to be bothered and if you are silent and respect their home, they will let you alone."
"Aren't we stomping on their home, breaking plants or things like that?" inquired Tyrael.
"You really take me for a beginner," sighed Delilah. "Look behind you."
Tyrael obeyed and there was no mark of their passage. Behind the gelding the plants were coming back to their previous place as if nothing but a breeze had happened and no branch creaked under the hooves. The whole thing was quite creepy.
"I already told you, Tyrael, I do this for ten years now; don't you think I know the tricks? I've broken in these two horses myself and I have concluded a pact with the creatures of the forest."
"But aren't they... evil?"
"Even evil creatures can see where their profit is; as I told you, it's just a question of choosing carefully the money you pay them with."
"How can you do that?"
"I'm a Guardian, Tyrael, meaning I'm half-way between Heaven and Hell, between Angels and Demons, between Good and Evil. A good Guardian knows how to bargain with Evil... as well as with Good, by the way," she added after consideration.
"I feel really innocent," grunted Tyrael.
"You are," said Delilah looking at him and suddenly smiling fondly. "When did you begin to care for Guardians?"
"I don't remember exactly... but it always looked like a game for the others... Maybe they didn't call me when it was beginning to be less a game..."
"What about your predecessor? What happened to him?"
"Dunno. I wasn't told; I guess he was given another task. Some Angels get quickly tired of dealing with humans. Your lives are so short that we have to redo everything for each generation."
"I can understand. So no word about your predecessor?"
"No. I could never see him, he was always busy elsewhere."
"I have no doubts about it," muttered Delilah. "You Archangels - or gods, I don't know - are really a bunch of liars."
"Why so?" asked Tyrael surprised.
"Because he was not busy! He's fallen!"
"What did you say?"
"I said that if a new Angel of Guardians was needed, it's because the previous one fell, joining his fallen brothers best known as the Watchers."
"Are you afraid of their real name, like they are up there?" asked Tyrael bitterly.
"No, but I would rather avoid an army of angry Angels falling on me for having said the forbidden word."
"Good thinking. How do you know of his fate?"
"He fell because of a Guardian of Moen, so from Guardian to Guardian, we have passed on the guilt. Stupid. Anyway, we Guardians are sort of the keepers of the past, the memory of Heaven, Earth and Hell history. Every Guardian needs to have the best memory ever; just those incantations and pentacles are a pain to remember, depending of who exactly you want to invoke..."
Tyrael smiled in spite of himself.
"So you were saying, about my predecessor..." he began.
"And we're arrived!" exclaimed Delilah joyfully. "Not that I like the test; the Stair of Faith is not dangerous - except for the non-initiates - but it always takes me forever to go down," she grinned half-sadly.
"Then I guess you'll be happy if I allow you to skip it," said a new voice.
A tall Archangel suddenly stood in front of the temple's door, smiling expectantly. Delilah had a moment of surprise and then exclaimed:
"Azrael!"
She jumped down Cinnabar and ran to Azrael, all but throwing herself in his arms.
"Oh, Azzy!"
He closed his arms on her, enfolding her in his downy grey-white wings, and had a nod toward Cinnabar who neighed joyfully as a greeting. Tyrael looked disgusted.
"Great, I don't feel at all out of place," he muttered. "Don't forget to tell me if I'm bothering you..."
"We know the feeling," said a new voice.
The usual escort of Azrael, three men - well, 'men' wasn't exactly the right term - appeared in turn. They were brothers, as dissimilar as possible but yet very close to each other. The eldest was dark and taciturn, the second one blonde and merry and the last one was a silent red-haired man.
"It's always like that with those two," said the blonde man, showing Azrael and Delilah. "Of course, her hateful horse is mean to everybody but adores Azzy. Sometimes we almost feel jealous, especially that, my! She's lovely, don't you think so?"
"I didn't pay attention," retorted Tyrael wryly.
"Oh, I forgot! You're not supposed to notice. Sorry."
"Abel, watch your tongue," said the first man mechanically.
Tyrael noticed the blonde man - Abel - was looking a lot paler than usually and, though still merry, his voice sounded a bit forced.
"Are you alright, Abel?" he asked with concern.
"Yeah, sort of. Cain had to kill me not that long ago and Azzy had a hell of a time - pardon the expression - for bringing me back to 'life'. I only hope Cain won't do that too often, it's not something I enjoy very much."
"I can understand. She went through the same thing, except that it was the first time for her, if you see what I mean."
"I see perfectly. This would explain Azzy's behaviour, huh, Seth?"
The third brother started.
"If you want," he replied, obviously not having the faintest idea of what his brother was babbling about.
Azrael was still holding Delilah in his arms, whispering things to her, and she was nodding, her face buried against his chest. Then, at last, she looked up and her eyes were too bright, as if she had just cried.
"Tyrael, nice seeing you again," said Azrael casually.
"I understand now why you said we would see each other shortly. You were planning to come here."
"I was planning to avoid her the test. There are more important things at stake than silly games and the Guardian doesn't have time to play. I explained this to Chyraz's priests - I'm afraid I lost my temper, by the way - and they finally agreed to help us. So here we go for the angelic version of the Stair of Faith! Are you ready, Delilah?"
"With you, always," she replied with a smile.
"Hmm, that's nice..."
He lifted her in his arms and entered the temple. Half-hidden in darkness was a small door; Cain opened it for Azrael who calmly went down the stair. Only true faith could remove the obstacles and, obviously, it was not a problem for Azrael. He grinned to Delilah.
"I've always wondered what would happen if an Archangel was stuck in this stair. That would be catastrophic, don't you think, Tyrael?"
"I had the same thought in Irlenuit's temple; I had the impression I would remain forever blind, deaf and paralysed."
"Ah, Irlenuit's test! Actually there aren't that many people who like it, except Delilah, the knights of silence and the kr'eyrl knights."
"You know about the tests?"
"Of course I know. The gods - or humans - can rarely hide things from me. I'm the only one to have former humans as my escort. And I think I know your next question: why didn't I tell you before? There are things one must find by oneself. If you had known, maybe you wouldn't have been revolted the way you were - are - and maybe Delilah would still be dead."
"I doubt it, seeing how you're holding her against you," said Tyrael dryly.
Azrael laughed, not embarrassed at all.
"Remember what Raphael said: Gabriel, you, him and me, we would all four fall for her."
"Are you like Raphael? Did you fall for her a long time ago?" asked Tyrael, decided to solve all the mysteries around him.
"She didn't even know how to walk that I was already captivated," laughed gently Azrael.
"Be serious," she murmured from the safe embrace of his arms.
"I am serious. Alright, here we are. Go listen to the babble of the priest, I shall talk to you later on."
"Promised? You're not going to disappear suddenly?"
"Promised, I'll be here."
"Good."
She smiled and left them for going to see the priests... who were not very happy with Azrael, Delilah and the world in general.
"I don't see why you come to us," grumbled one of them, "since you are accepted among gods and Angels."
"Precisely; maybe I should report to them that you are not really cooperative. I come to you like I usually do for ten years; now if you don't want to see me, no problem, but I don't guarantee I'll listen to you if you come to me with a problem," she replied wryly.
"I was just saying..." protested the priest.
"So was I," she retorted sweetly.
The priest surrendered.
"If you succeed, you'll be the first among the Guardians. But be careful: His armies are numerous and well-prepared."
"And He's almost ready, yes, yes, I know all this! Anything else?"
"Alas no! I thought they could have told you this themselves without the flourish of trying to impress you by passing the test so easily."
Delilah grinned at the irony, knowing fully Azrael would have enjoyed it and even laughed at it.
"Alright, I shall take my leave then. Oh, and next time, promised, I'll pass the test properly."
"Who knows when will be the next time, child, or even if there will be a next time," murmured the priest suddenly worried.
Delilah did as if she hadn't heard while she was walking away.
Outside the temple the two Archangels and the three men were waiting for her. She went straight to Azrael as if nobody else existed and there was a longing in both gazes as they looked at each other. He reached for her and she came closer, trustingly, until he put his arms around her.
"Be strong, little one," he murmured, "be strong and careful. He will stop at nothing to have what He wants and you belong to this category. Actually you are His first target; He doesn't care for the world if He can't have you with it. He wants a queen by His side and He chose you to be His queen."
"Sometimes," she replied on the same tone, "I wonder why I don't quit and stop fighting, but then I remember: justice has to be done!"
"Justice will be done... if you succeed."
"And if not, my mother's name will be stained for the rest of times."
"As yours will be, since you don't have any child to take your succession. Have you ever thought of it?" he asked, his gaze piercing and inquiring.
"Of binding someone to my dreadful fate?" she laughed bitterly. "Hello, I'm the Demon's child, would you marry me so I can bring shame on you and our children? No thanks."
He half-smiled and, stepping back, he repeated:
"Be strong."
She nodded and, in a heartbeat, Azrael and his escort disappeared. Tyrael didn't say a word and she was grateful for his silence.
"Where are we going now?" he simply asked, leading Cinnabar to her.
"Zeloran's."
They rode a moment in silence before she said:
"Thank you."
"You are welcome."
"Azrael is like my brother, but we usually hide it, you know, because of the rule. Cain, Abel and Seth know, of course, and sometimes, Abel scares me the way he's saying everything to everybody. But I trust you, so I didn't try to hide it from you."
"I guess Raphael and Gabriel know it too."
"Naturally. These three are always up for the same tricks."
"I'm honoured of being part of it now."
"Don't be sarcastic. Just imagine what would happen if your well-thinking Seraphim and Cherubim knew."
"Don't tell me, Shela was already all upset."
"How's that? Shela knows?"
"Yes, Raphael teased her. I think she's actually jealous of you."
Delilah looked lengthily at Tyrael.
"Great," she sighed. "As if I hadn't enough to worry with the priests and the Demons. I wonder what my mother could possibly have done to her to have her in such a foul mood."
"Well, maybe it has something to do with the fact Vileyam set the trap and he was very enthusiastic about it. Shela happens to be in awe with Vileyam, probably because he's Jyiel's master in angelic arts."
"Who was yours?" asked Delilah, avoiding a low branch.
"Can't you guess? It was Raphael of course, that's why I'm not too bad with healing. Except for you, I really don't know why you react so badly afterwards. I mean, they were traumatising experiences, agreed, but nobody ever reacted like you before..."
Delilah shrugged a bit uneasily.
"Maybe it's because I'm not used to angelic touch," she ventured.
"Maybe," said Tyrael, thoughtful. "But it's nevertheless very strange..."
She didn't answer.
"So what's Zeloran's test? I don't think anybody will allow you to skip it, true?"
"True. The test is called River of Blood. You can come with me; I don't think Zeloran's priests are going to reveal anything very significant anyway."
"What will they tell you about?"
"Everything bad that will happen to me. That's not really encouraging, but Zeloran doesn't belong to the people who want to see me succeed."
Tyrael sighed.
"Is there something easy in a Guardian's life?"
"Actually, there is. It's called death."
"What do you mean?"
"It's easy: you just have to ask. Everybody around will be happy to give you a hand."
"You are joking, right?"
"No; but as would say my mother, the way a Guardian is remembered is the way he dies."
"No, it's wrong!" protested Tyrael. "It's the way you live!"
"Tell me about it... What do people remember from my mother? That she died in shame. And there's another story, it was my favourite bedtime story actually. A long time ago was a Guardian who was a real coward. I still wonder how he became a Guardian by the way. Anyway he was so scared that he surrounded himself with traps and probably banished more friends and priests than Demons this way. Eventually a Demon finally came for him. As the Demon was not half as stupid as the Guardian thought, he avoided most of the traps. Seeing this, the Guardian panicked and ran for his life. The Demon naturally followed him and the Guardian, blinded with fear, ran into one of his traps, taking the Demon along with him. The official history says that understanding there was no way out, he sacrificed himself so that one Demon less would walk on earth. This Guardian is often cited as an example while other Guardians, who spent their whole life fighting for real but died peacefully in their bed, are forgotten forever. Die like a hero and you'll be remembered as a hero; die like a coward and your memory will be despised, no matter the odds."
"Are you a disciple of Vitriana for knowing so much?"
"I'd like to! No, but I hadn't much to do until lately, so I studied and Vitriana's temple is a great place to study. I spent days there, listening to the priests. The Demons were quiet since my mother's death, but then He needed time to set up His plans and gather His armies."
"So they like you? They won't call you 'Demon's child'?"
"They like me and they will call me 'Demon's child'. This is now more like a title than an insult for most of the priests. I am Delilah Demon's child, daughter of Lilith. Poor mother. I wonder if she ever guessed what she condemned me to..."
No bitterness or accusation in her voice, only deep sadness.
"What..." he began.
"Zeloran's temple!" she announced.
Tyrael was beginning to get used to her ways and he wasn't fooled.
"It's only a way for you to avoid the coming conversation, isn't it?"
"Of course. I plan the conversations as soon as we leave the previous temple, do an estimation of the time needed to reach the next one and from there, I accept to talk or not," replied Delilah sarcastically. "Be good, Cin, we'll soon be back."
She dismounted and waited for Tyrael.
"Are you coming? It will be educational."
Tyrael grinned and followed her. She took corridor after corridor and the way didn't look very easy to follow.
"How would a new supplicant know where to go?"
"He would be told... not very nicely, but he would be."
"Were are we going, by the way?"
"The sacrificial chamber. Dark, sinister, but we won't stay long."
"I believe you on word," muttered Tyrael.
She smiled.
There was a priest in the room, clothed in brown as Zeloran's priests usually were. He looked at Delilah and motioned her to come nearer without even greeting her. There was a big silver bowl on the table, near a brazier. Delilah took a dark blade from her left boot and surprised, Tyrael murmured:
"This is a demon blade!"
"It was," she replied softly without moving her lips.
She passed the blade in the flame to purify it and then, without any hesitation, she cut her inner arm from wrist to elbow. The Archangel had to restrain himself for not intervening as he noticed it wasn't the first time she had done so: her left inner arm was covered with thin white scars. He wondered how he had missed this fact when she had invoked him.
Dark blood fell in the bowl and Tyrael was surprised to see it was almost black. He put that on the demon blade's count. The priest was only looking at the blood in the bowl and after a moment he raised the hand.
"The offering is accepted."
Delilah applied the dark blade against her wound, which healed almost instantly, leaving only one more thin white scar. The blade then went back into its scabbard and she crossed her arms on her chest expectantly.
"Well?"
"You will die," shrugged the priest. "No matter the way you choose, you'll die. Even if you choose the way of your bloodline, death will wait for you. From Angels' hand, or Demons' or even humans', you'll die, Demon's child. If you play your cards right, you may see the fulfilment of your life before it's taken from you. That's all, Demon's child, my god has nothing else to say to you."
"I knew I could trust Zeloran to make it as bad as possible," said Delilah lightly, thought slightly crisped.
The priest frowned but left without a word, taking the silver bowl with him. Delilah went back to sunlight and breathed deeply.
"Where did you get a demon blade?" asked Tyrael puzzled.
"I needed one so I asked a Demon. They can be very nice sometimes. Alright, Tyrael, you heard the priest: are you sure you want to continue? Your own kin may try to kill me, you may want to avoid my shame."
"But maybe I can prevent it."
"But maybe you can precipitate it. You may be the Angel destined to kill me."
"The gods forbid!" said fervently Tyrael.
Delilah shrugged.
"I'm giving you a chance to get out of all this before it's too late. Decide now! After it will be far too late."
"I'm still in."
"Heaven help you."
"And now what?"
"Now we go to the little glade not far from here and we prepare for spending the night in the forest."
"Is it safe?"
"I'll make sure it is."
"I don't want to know how," grumbled Tyrael.
"And yet you will," replied Delilah. "I wish Zubaran's temple wasn't abandoned!"
"How's that?"
"In the north of the Red Plains, there was a temple of Zubaran, but one day, the last priest disappeared. No other priest came to take his place, so nobody ever came to the temple. It fell into ruins a long time ago."
"Why do you suddenly wish for him to be there now?"
"I have some questions to ask him about my destiny. I wonder if I'm not somehow in charge of making you fit to affront Demons."
"What do you mean?"
"When all this will be over, me being dead or not, you will have lost all your naivety, believe me, and you'll probably be strong and wise enough to be able to lead the angelic armies against the demon armies without faltering."
"So what? You are my master in life?"
She had a brief laugh.
"Maybe. But believe me, it's only with infinite regret that I'll break mercilessly your innocence. You are sort of refreshing fellow but you won't last long if you stay so."
"Give me an example?"
"I have a demon blade in my boot. You never felt it; how many times did I get the chance to kill you with you having no doubts whatsoever?"
"I'm too trusting?"
"Yeah, way too much. If I had been listening to some of the impulses in me, the blood filling the bowl would have been yours and not mine and Zeloran's priest would have exulted."
"But you didn't listen, you spared my life. I had your life in my hands twice also," he reminded her.
"And I had yours in mine ten times more! In the streets of Ennian, at the inn of The Sleeping Dead, just now in Zeloran's temple! Even in Irlenuit's and Illustra's you were at my mercy."
"What held you back then?"
"Angelic blood is not something I care to see on my hands. Now watch me secure this glade. Come next to me."
"How can I be sure it's not a trap to have me at your mercy?"
"I see you're learning," she said with that brief laugh of hers. "Come, I'll put you at ease."
He obeyed and knelt next to her. She unsheathed her demon blade and put it into his hand. He couldn't restrain a slight shiver at the contact and she smiled knowingly. Then she forced him to put his arm around her, the blade pressed against her throat.
"There. If you think I'm up to something bad, feel free to press the blade harder. If not, don't move too much, I need my concentration."
Tyrael was bewildered: to have him feel safe, she was putting herself at his mercy and with a demon blade! It was insane. He listened to her spell, noticing the words 'blood money' were coming back more than frequently. When she was done with it, the glade was surrounded with shining eyes. One small creature, with long distorted legs, all furry, came crawling to Delilah and rolled on its back, presenting its downy vulnerable belly to her. She slowly held out a hand and gently put it on the beast's stomach. The creature left running as soon as she took away her hand. She disentangled herself from Tyrael's embrace and slid the demon blade back in her boot without him opposing any resistance.
"Why did you put yourself at my mercy?"
"Because it was the perfect occasion to be in your arms," she said mockingly.
"Be serious," he retorted half-blushing.
"This demon blade is mine. It can harm me, but it cannot kill me. I thought you would feel better if you were holding it rather than me."
"What was the creature?" he asked, not answering the veiled question.
"I reminded them of the pact we made and they sent me a cub to see if I would hurt it. Once I didn't, they left, except those who will watch for us."
"You sound merry," said Tyrael, troubled. "You just heard you were going to die and yet you are smiling. I don't understand. I thought life was priceless for you humans."
"It is. But, think, I learnt something priceless also today: even if I surrender to the Demons, even if my resolution weakens, I won't live for my shame! I'll die if I fell in their hands. I was so afraid of this, but Zeloran gave me my confidence back."
Seeing incomprehension on Tyrael's face, she added softly:
"Bloodstain is better than mud-stain on one's reputation."
Tyrael understood.
"So what pact did you make with these creatures?" he asked, trying to match her merry tone.
"Actually for these ones, the rovelshes, I happened to heal one of their eldest. They are a very hierarchical society and well, I prevented a big instability. So they came to me and we made a pact of reciprocal protection."
"What protection can they give?" asked Tyrael surprised. "They didn't look very harmful to me, if I'm to judge by the one we saw."
"It was just a cub! An adult is half big as Cin and has fangs as long as my fingers. They are very fast also. Believe me, I don't want to fight a rovelsh!"
"Did they come for your protection?"
"Actually they did! Two years ago, something like that, they came to my house because several of them were hurt and suffering. One of them, I couldn't heal... It was a youngster and he was looking at me with trust... but I couldn't save him. The tribe understood my gesture though."
"They forgave you but you never forgave yourself?"
"Yes. His eyes are still haunting me. But they forgave me for they came, not six months ago, to tell me something was wrong. The Demons were becoming agitated."
"They told you?"
"They did; the rovelshes' protection is not to be taken lightly. Go to sleep, Tyrael. Tomorrow, we're going to Jeniah and then we'll have to go in the Misty Mounts."
"Can we trust the rovelshes?"
"If you trust me, you can trust them."
Tyrael understood the veiled question but chose not to reply. He could have lasted far longer, but he knew she wouldn't change her mind, so he lay on the ground and closed his eyes.
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