The priests: Shuqra and Varaxador
He opened quickly his eyes as he heard Delilah move. She was walking very silently toward the edge of the glade. A rovelsh came toward her; the poor beast was on three legs - and had a really hard time walking - and his grey- and rust-coloured fur was badly burnt in more than one place. He had one eye only but in the eye Tyrael could see intelligence and love for the girl in front of him.
She threw her arms around the rovelsh's neck.
"Yawni! My poor little one!"
She rolled him gently on his back, his head on her lap, stroking and patting the downy belly and the soft chops only half-hiding the frightening fangs. The rovelsh - Yawni - apparently appreciated the attentions for he was producing a soft noise comparable to a purr.
Tyrael came silently by her side and she didn't notice his presence until he put his hand on her shoulder. She turned to him sorrowful eyes.
"I thought you had killed him," he whispered.
"I couldn't," she replied in a choked voice. "But he can't hunt anymore... He's useless, they keep him only as a favour to me, to ease a bit my guilt, if it could be eased. Look at him, he adores me and I failed him..."
Her last words were so much the echo of what he had said about her in front of the gods that he felt it wasn't just by accident.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You can do something, Tyrael?" she asked eagerly, her eyes shining with an insane hope.
"Maybe. I'm an Archangel, remember?" he winked.
"Tyrael, oh, if you can... oh, Tyrael..."
He hid a smile. He could save her from death, she wouldn't care, but if he healed this ugly beast, he would have her eternal gratitude. He examined the poor beast, uttering soothing sounds when the fangs shone a bit too brightly.
"Yawni, hush, little one," whispered Delilah.
As he had done with her after Furtifer's Expiation, Tyrael just put his hand on Yawni's burns. The rovelsh startled and remained where he was only because Delilah told him so. He yipped in protestation and nibbled her fingers. She didn't even shiver, though the fangs were really impressive.
It didn't take long to Tyrael to heal all the bad burns and already Yawni was obviously feeling better. In his clever eye, Tyrael could see he had understood what was going on. Then Tyrael began the delicate task of healing the lost eye and Delilah had a hard time making Yawni stay calm; he didn't want Tyrael to touch his dead eye and even bit Delilah quite painfully in his protest.
"Yawni!" she said severely.
He made the face of a beaten dog and, tamed, put back his hand on her lap, letting Tyrael touch his eye without further protests. As Tyrael discovered it, the eye wasn't so difficult to heal, but Yawni hadn't made it easy. The rovelsh looked at him, blinked, his tongue hanging between his teeth and presented him his hinder leg - or what was left of it. The Archangel half-smiled: Yawni was decidedly a clever animal. Funny how Delilah always managed to stick with intelligent beasts.
The leg was the last test. Tyrael had no idea if he could literally recreate a leg where there wasn't anymore, but he knew Delilah wished for it. He looked briefly at her; she was next to him, her eyes fixed on him and she was almost holding back her breath, as if waiting for a... well, a miracle. What decided Tyrael was the hope in her eyes: he couldn't deny this hope. He half-closed his eyes, remembering Raphael's dedication to the healing arts - how he had gone beyond his limits to save Delilah - and his confidence came back to him. He made a move to pat Yawni on the head, as to say not to worry, but changed his mind when seeing the strange glow in the rovelsh's eyes. He let Tyrael touch him because Delilah had commanded so, but would the Archangel become too familiar, Yawni would snap off his fingers.
Concentrating Tyrael put his hands on the missing hinder leg; as soon as he began to recreate the leg, Yawni yipped in pain. Delilah soothed him softly, for not disturbing Tyrael. The Archangel could hear her, as a background sound, but nothing could break his concentration. A part of his mind - an annoying part, for all Tyrael knew - told him it wasn't good: Delilah had told him herself not to be so trusting and she had a demon blade while the rovelsh was an evil creature; he should stop his trance at once, to be safe. Another part of his mind retorted that, if the creature was evil, he would certainly be angry if Tyrael stopped the healing process. Going fast on the healing was the only way to be safe. Unnerved by those two inner voices that were fighting in his head like two little kids, Tyrael told them to be quiet, which they did, even if he could still hear them grumble. He had recreated half the leg and Yawni was complaining all the time - though Tyrael was sure that half of it at least was for getting Delilah's attentions.
At last he reached the paw. He was dreading this moment. A leg was a leg, though a rovelsh's leg was strangely distorted - and he had been careful to make it as distorted as the other ones - but paws were never the same. Some had retractile claws, some not; some had four fingers, others five. The rovelsh had five fingers with long sharp retractile claws, except for the fifth finger, which was located behind the paw, a bit like a spur. This one, if not retractile, could move quite easily - though the finger was short - so it wasn't scratching the ground all the time. Tyrael had no idea of the use of this claw, even longer than the others - a slight part of it could be retracted.
He had a sigh of satisfaction when shaping the last claw - the one behind. Yawni had stopped complaining and already moved his four other claws with delight, with the obvious desire of driving them in Tyrael's hands, but he didn't dare, refusing to meet Delilah's disapproval. When Tyrael finished the last claw, Yawni looked at his new leg in somewhat wild bewilderment and then jumped on Delilah, licking her face, brushing his nose against her with all the marks of joy. Delilah laughed a bit uneasily - especially with the claws scratching her leather belt - and while returning the rovelsh's demonstrations of affection, she said:
"Go thank Tyrael, silly! Yes, Yawni, I love you too, little one..."
"I tell you something," said Tyrael with a tired smile, "you let him thank you and then you thank me for him."
"Go run, Yawni, go hunt," murmured Delilah.
The rovelsh obeyed at once after one last lick on her face. Delilah rose and came toward Tyrael who was still kneeling on the ground. She put her hand on his shoulder.
"I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did. You erased a very painful guilt and... I don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything," he replied softly. "Your eyes are already telling me enough."
She knelt by his side.
"Sometimes words are not enough," she agreed.
She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Tyrael was so surprised he couldn't utter a word. Physical contact was very restricted in Heaven - only friends like Gabriel and Raphael would touch the other one - and he had certainly not ever been kissed! He looked at her, wondering; she had a slightly embarrassed smile.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
"Startle may not be the word... Would you have thanked Gabriel, Raphael or Azrael this way?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, Tyrael, I sometimes forget that you Angels don't react the same way than humans."
"Don't be sorry. It was a... pleasant experience."
She smiled timidly.
"Thank you, Tyrael, honestly. For me and for Yawni."
"You are very welcome, Delilah. Yawni seems to adore you, the way Cinnabar does."
"The funny thing is that Cin and Yawni hate each other. I guess they are jealous."
"So now what? Bed time?"
"Bed time. You must be tired after the healing."
"Well, a bit more than if I hadn't, but not too much. I'll be able to attack those mountains with you tomorrow."
"Sleep well, sweet Angel," she murmured gently.
He took her hand before she left, healing the bite from Yawni, and she grinned. She lay not too far from him, close enough so he could see her, but far enough for him to be unable to touch her by extending the arm. Yawni came from nowhere and curled against Delilah, at Cinnabar's indignation. She had a tired laugh, put her arm around the rovelsh's neck and closed her eyes. Tyrael did the same, sure that no harm could come to them, not with Yawni among them.
When he opened his eyes again the sun was already quite high in the sky. He turned the head toward Delilah's sleeping place, wondering if she was still sleeping or already up, waiting for him. What he saw made him smile: she was still sleeping, curled on herself, like a child, her hand under her cheek, and Yawni was curled around her, his head on her ribs, his thick tail around her ankles. Tyrael laughed lightly and came toward Delilah; immediately Yawni raised the head and growled, baring his sharp teeth.
"Friend," said Tyrael firmly, "you better get the point: I'm her travelling companion, so I go with her and you stay here. So let me pass."
Cinnabar neighed as to confirm his words - and Tyrael was pleased to see that the horse was on his side for once - but the rovelsh wasn't tamed for that. He growled louder and Tyrael wondered if he was to use angelic powers just to wake up someone!
Suddenly Delilah's eyes snapped open.
"Yawni, that's enough!" she said immediately.
The rovelsh cocked his head, looking at her in perplexity. She returned his look.
"Tyrael is a friend."
Yawni had a look that was clearly asking how she could have ended up with such a man. Tyrael decided he was not going to be vexed for some animal's ill opinion - even though he had healed this animal.
"Strange how your furry companions cannot stand me," he said while she was standing up - rubbing her slightly aching ribs.
"Most probably because they're coming from the bad side, compared to you."
"Meaning? I know the rovelshes are considered evil creatures, but Cinnabar? He's vicious, but except that?"
"Cin is a hellish steed, winged boy. Didn't I already tell you that you were too trusting?"
Tyrael chose to ignore her last remark.
Yawni was waiting for them and Delilah laughed, shaking her head.
"No, little one, you stay here. I'm going far from this forest and you would be lost. Stay here, run and hunt!"
Yawni did as if he hadn't heard and came by Cinnabar's side, just under Delilah's right boot. Cinnabar looked as if he was going to kick the rovelsh.
"Cin, no!" said sharply Delilah. "Yawni, listen, you cannot come!"
"You won't convince him. Look around: the other rovelshes are here. There're sending him with you so he will protect you, the way they have sworn to protect you."
"Since when do you know so much?" asked Delilah half-angrily.
"I do happen to use my eyes and brain sometimes, no matter what you think."
Delilah bit her lower lip.
"Tyrael, I'm sorry... It's just..."
"You don't want him to come with you."
"Yes, but..."
"He'll come nonetheless. Don't fight, Delilah, you know he will. If you don't allow him, he will follow us, that's all."
"I hate that, but you're right," sighed Delilah.
"Thank you so much," murmured Tyrael.
She grinned at him and Cinnabar took the path of Jeniah, the closest town, where was Shuqra's temple.
Yawni was trotting next to Cinnabar who seemed to be willing to kick him or bite him at each step. Delilah, stroking her stallion's long neck, was looking at the rovelsh.
"Tyrael," she said finally, "don't you think he's thinner?"
"Hmm, well, yes, he is."
"How's that?"
"I had to take the flesh, muscles and bones from somewhere. I could not recreate a leg from nothing."
Delilah remained open-mouthed.
"You don't create anything, you just transform something already existing. Everything is stable."
"I see. Will that affect him?"
"Yawni? No, of course. In a few days, he will be back to what he was. And you must admit that he doesn't seem bothered by it."
"True, but Yawni isn't bothered by anything, not even a missing leg. You have a question to ask me, I can feel it."
"It's about Cinnabar. You said he is a hellish steed. Doesn't look like one to me."
Delilah looked ahead. They could see the Northern Trail and the South Gate of Jeniah, but nobody could see them from there. She stopped Cinnabar and dismounted.
"Alright, I'll show you the beginning of what he is. I don't want to have to cast the whole spell all over again, so you'll have to deal with just a bit."
She murmured some words and the reddish brown fur of Cinnabar turned frankly red, the colour of embers. In fact it almost seemed like his whole fur was covered with twinkling embers. The mane and tail hairs became white and the eyes and nostrils turned red as hell fire. Tyrael understood; he knew what was left hidden by the spell.
"I see," he said simply.
She nodded and cast the spell again, Cinnabar reverting to colours a bit more usual.
"Where did you find him?"
"It's too early for you to know," she muttered.
"Oh. Is the gelding a hellish steed also?"
"Hardly!"
"Won't Yawni cause us problems at Jeniah?"
"I don't think so. People should just take him for a very odd dog. They know nothing about the rovelshes anyway."
"Luckily for us. What would you do if someone was pointing at Yawni, shouting 'A rovelsh!' before leaving running?"
"I would laugh, honestly. What could a rovelsh do against a whole town?"
"Well, if a rovelsh was the size of a dragon, I would pity the town."
Delilah laughed and she was still laughing as they arrived at the South Gate of Jeniah.
Naturally Shuqra's temple and Varaxador's were on each side of the town, so they had to go west at Shuqra's before travelling east, toward Varaxador's temple, and the Misty Mounts.
Jeniah was a quiet town, a bit smaller than Rishaki, but a lot safer; Varaxador's priests - and warriors - had decided that it was their duty to keep the town safe and as there wasn't any priest who wasn't a warrior, the scum of the streets had had to find another place - which was probably Ennian, the 'bad' area of Rishaki. Tyrael found very amusing that Furtifer's temple was in the middle of Ennian: one would have thought the god of punishment wouldn't have tolerated such a thing. Obviously he didn't care.
"So what are the tests?"
"For Shuqra, it's called Talk of Wisdom. It's quite weird. The priestess asks questions and depending of my answers, I may pass... or not. For Varaxador, it's called White Aura. I have to fight a white warrior of Varaxador. Curiously it's less easy than it sounds."
"It doesn't sound easy at all. The white warriors are the elite of the paladins!"
"Don't tell me, I know," sighed Delilah. "I usually lose the fight anyway, but I keep trying. They tell me I'm getting better."
Strangely nobody around seemed to be bothered by the fact she was talking to the void - since they couldn't see Tyrael. Delilah seemed to understand Tyrael's surprise at the fact.
"Welcome to Jeniah and its legendary phlegm! Though it should rather be called indifference. Probably half of these people think I'm crazy, but they won't voice it, nor show it. The rest of them are too scared of Cinnabar or Yawni or both to even notice I'm talking alone. One thing I've always wondered is how they would react if someone told them the Demons were at the gates of the town. Maybe something like: 'Oh my, it does sound serious, doesn't it?' said very calmly. It's very irritating, you know: you have the impression they don't take you seriously. Of course, that's why Yawni was not going to cause us any problem."
"Shuqra's temple!" announced Tyrael, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.
Delilah looked at him, surprised, then laughed.
The temple was guarded by women in arms and the leader of them commanded dryly Delilah to identify herself. Delilah raised the eyebrows.
"Come, Cin, I think we went to the wrong temple."
The leader became all flushed.
"Delilah, listen..."
"Why should I? After ten years, you are asking me to identify myself? What did get in your mind? You know me, everybody knows me, I'm the Guardian of Moen."
"Security was reinforced, I thought..."
"You thought wrong, Olvia. Your security doesn't apply to me. I'm above your rules. Now are you going to let me enter or do I have to do without Shuqra's wisdom?"
"You can enter," said Olvia not very proudly.
"Wow!" murmured Tyrael once they had passed the temple's door. "That wasn't very nice to scold her in front of her soldiers."
"I don't care. Olvia knows me since I know how to walk, she could remember I don't need identification!"
An old priestess was waiting for them, seated in a high chair. Delilah sat cross-legged on the floor just in front of the priestess.
"Do you want your travelling companion to hear the Talk of Wisdom?"
"If it is allowed."
"He may stay. Is he the one who stood for you in front of the gods?"
"Yes, he is, but he didn't tell me anything about it, so I would rather not talk about this," replied firmly Delilah, as Tyrael was half-choking.
"It might have been modesty."
"Then we shall spare him."
"You are strong, Demon's child, stronger than you ever were."
"I was told to be strong by Chyraz's emissaries."
"This is wise," said the priestess, smiling knowingly. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Would you renounce at your Guardian status and all that's coming with it if it would save humankind from the Demons' threat?"
"Yes."
Delilah had had no hesitation and Tyrael wondered how she could be so sure: she was a Guardian from top to toe; renouncing to it would be renouncing to her identity!
"Would you kill your horse to save your life?"
Tyrael knew the answer to this question even before she said the word: there was no doubt about it!
"No."
"Would you die to save him?"
"Yes."
"Would he die to save you?"
"Yes, he would, without hesitation. But I wouldn't allow him to."
The old priestess sat back in her chair, slightly smiling.
"Would you die for glory?"
"No," said Delilah disdainfully.
"Would you die to rehabilitate your mother's name?"
"Yes."
"Would you die to rehabilitate your name?"
"No."
"Would you have given your life instead of your mother's to save her?"
"Yes."
"Would you die for love?"
"I don't know to love," replied Delilah suddenly tense.
"If you knew," continued the priestess soothingly, "would you?"
"Since it is a rhetorical question, you'll have to accept my answer: maybe. It depends of the conditions."
"And your other answers?"
"Were all unconditional."
"You are so strange, Demon's child... You would die for others, but you wouldn't let others do the same for you... You don't care for yourself, just for the others. You really are a Guardian like the gods wanted them to be."
"And what has Shuqra to say to the Guardian of her dreams?"
The priestess didn't reply to the bitterness. She simply said:
"You may have noticed I asked you lots of questions about dying or rather sacrificing yourself, actually."
"I did notice."
"Delilah, child, listen to me. Sacrifice everything you have, everything you love, sacrifice even your life, take it with your own hand if you must, but do not accept anything from the demon prince. Don't bargain with Him, don't conclude any deal, at any cost; find a way out of the deals. Humankind fate is on your shoulders, child, and if you were to accept something from Him, anything, in full knowledge, it would be doom for us all. Sacrifice even your beloved horse if you must, Delilah."
"What has life given me to dare ask such a high price from me?" asked Delilah bitterly. "Do the gods want me alone for the rest of my life should I survive, without any soul to care for me? Answer me, Shrava! Is it what they want?"
"I don't know, child. I just know what I told you. Whatever it may cost you, child, do not accept anything from the demon prince, not even food, not even His attentions."
Delilah remembered her visions in Illustra's temple and knew what the priestess was alluding to.
"I know it's a high price to pay, I know life has only asked you to give without giving you anything back and yet we are still asking you to give, to give even more, to give all you have."
Delilah stood up.
"I know how to hold Him back and it will not cost Cin his life!"
"He knows it too, child, He knows how far you can go and He may even expect it. Don't let Him push you over the edge for no reason."
As Delilah was leaving without responding, Shrava said:
"Remember what Illustra's priestess told you!"
Even if Delilah didn't want to remember, Eilena's words rang in her head:
"Remember that I love you, always. It doesn't matter who you are, I love you. But don't let anybody use it as a weapon against you."
She almost wanted to cry.
The first thing she did when coming out from the temple was to take Cinnabar's head against her.
"Don't worry," she said fiercely, "whatever they say, I will not let you die."
"Maybe Cinnabar was just an example," said Tyrael behind her. "It could be Yawni. Or Azrael."
"Azrael? Nobody knows."
"There is always a way to know the unknown, Delilah. Don't be naïve. You seem to know whom you are dealing with. Good. But don't assume you know everything there is to know."
"I won't let anybody die for me," she said with rage.
"Don't be foolish! If you are the only hope for humankind, would you die instead of me just to save my life, knowing you will condemn them?"
Delilah refused to answer.
"We have to go to Varaxador's temple."
"Don't veil your face, Delilah," he warned her.
"How dare you tell me this when I am unveiling yours from all the lies you have been fed?"
"Because I learnt from you and I understood I was too naïve. I may be trusting, Delilah, I know what to expect from Demons: nothing!"
He took her by the shoulders.
"I trust you, Delilah; maybe it's foolish, maybe not, I don't care. I trust you, even with my life and soul, and I know you will not fail. I can give you my soul, put it in your hands, it will be as safe as with me, maybe more. But I don't trust you with your own life and soul. You are only too willing to give it away. I know life hasn't been nice to you, but don't give up so easily. Reward comes in time, I promise you."
"Tyrael, you are nice and caring, and I thank you for your concern. If it was only for me, your soul would be bound to Heaven forever, which is the case, since you're an Archangel, except if you fall. But as for mine, it's already too late: I'm doomed to Hell since my first breath!"
"No, you're not! You are not! Everyone has his or her chance to Heaven!"
"You don't know all there is to know, winged boy. Come, it's time to go."
Tyrael gave up. There was a haunted look in her eyes that half-frightened him and he wondered what was the terrible secret.
The closer they were from Varaxador's temple, the quieter the streets were. At the end, it was so silent they could hear their own breathing. The temple was on a large square, a round temple, with a big cupola and suddenly they could hear the sounds of weapons coming from an inner courtyard. Delilah stopped Cinnabar and, just after having dismounted, she patted him carefully, as if she was suddenly afraid of losing him the next instant. Tyrael put his hand on her shoulder.
"You are going to fight a white warrior?" he asked quietly.
She nodded as the door of another inner courtyard opened and a warrior stood on the threshold, waiting for her.
"Drat," she murmured. "It's Nymrial. I never manage to beat him."
He unsheathed his shining silver sword and handed it over to her.
"Try with this. It should help you."
"It's not the sword that makes the strength and skills of the warrior, but the arm. The sword is only an extension of the arm," she said without touching the blade.
"It's an angelic sword; it has some powers. It will help you, I promise," insisted Tyrael.
"Won't I be accused of cheating?" asked Delilah suspiciously.
"No. Take it."
He pushed the sword in her hand and she shivered as soon as she touched the handle. She half-bent down and took her demon blade from her boot.
"Archangel and Demon," she said with a strange smile. "The summary of every Guardian's life."
Nymrial was still waiting for her, patiently. She slowly made her way toward him and the door closed behind her.
A whole courtyard opened before her. No obstacle, no trick. Just a 'fair' fight, if one could call fair a duel where the adversary was chosen among the elite of Varaxador's paladins.
"Demon's child," said Nymrial. "It has been a long time. My brothers told me you are making progress."
"Your brothers are too kind, Nymrial. I still can't defeat you."
"Nothing lasts forever, Demon's child. You may defeat me tomorrow. Or today."
He had only a shining sword for weapon, but Delilah wasn't fooled. Even barehanded he could still defeat her. Her fingers tightened her grip on Tyrael's sword and she raised it into the salute of the war knights, which Nymrial knew well. He answered the same way and the fight began.
Delilah noticed immediately two advantages to Tyrael's sword: first, the blade was incredibly light to move and two, it seemed to keep tiredness away. Her wrist didn't tire at all and each time the silver blade met with Nymrial's sword, she would not yield an inch. She concentrated even more, beginning to use her demon blade in offence, for she was quite used to fight with two blades, one long, one short, and would use the short one in defence or attack indifferently.
Nymrial didn't seem bothered at all when facing two blades instead of one and he smoothly adapted his swordplay in consequence. He was quite surprised Delilah had lasted so long: usually she had already lost the fight by that time. He noticed too she seemed still fresh; he wasn't tired - he was a man of war and needed more than a friendly fight to be tired - but he understood that if the fight was going to last, she might be the winner of it.
He took his decision suddenly, stepped back and turned his sword toward the ground. Delilah, defiant, stepped back also and slowly lowered her weapons.
"Congratulations, Demon's child, you passed the test."
"You are denying me my victory, Nymrial."
"Ah, Demon's child, I do not want to fight you till sunset. If not by skills, you would have defeated me by tiredness. It's a clever way to proceed. Come, I will lead you to the priests."
Delilah followed him, almost unable to believe her luck. Contrary to what she had said to Tyrael, she had never won the fight, so it was the first time she would go inside the temple. She wondered vaguely what the white warriors would think next time, when she would lose pitifully again.
Nymrial led her to a priest who was training, like the others, and looked quite surprised to see Delilah.
"Demon's child, it is a surprise to see you here. Would you be becoming worthy of our order?"
"I doubt it, Gerniam. I was just lucky today or Nymrial took pity on me."
"Nymrial doesn't know the meaning of the word 'pity'. Anyway, Demon's child, you have won your way in."
"What can you tell me?" she asked wearily.
"Sheathe your swords first, Demon's child, nobody is going to contest your right to be here."
Delilah slid her demon blade in her boot without even looking down, but kept Tyrael's sword in her hand. Where would she have put it, since her own sword - a most banal blade - was still in its scabbard?
"Well, do you distrust us that much?" insisted Gerniam. "Your empty scabbard may be taken as an insult for most of us."
Delilah finally looked down and at her belt was hanging Tyrael's scabbard, waiting for its blade. Unable to say when he had switched scabbards without her noticing, she nevertheless blessed his presence of mind and sheathed swiftly the sword. Something inside her head had a sigh of relief.
"Come with me, Demon's child, I have to show you something."
What he had to show her was maps and numbers.
"From what we know from the demon armies, we could deduce all this: the size, the organisation, sometimes even the leader's name of the section We put all our strategists on the problem, trying to find the weak point. Then we've studied the angelic armies and here is how to organise them to defeat the demon armies..."
Gerniam began with war terms and strategist situations; Delilah could follow him with no problems: Lilith had made sure her daughter would be a good strategist too, if only using the Archangels and Demons game. After half an hour of explanations, Delilah cut short.
"Is there a way to win without the angelic armies?"
"What?" the priest asked, bewildered.
"Imagine this hypothesis: the Angels think the threat is not big enough and don't intervene. How can we defeat the demon armies?"
"But the threat is real!" protested Gerniam
"They don't know it," said Delilah flatly.
Gerniam looked at her open-mouthed.
"They don't know the scale of the threat of else they choose to ignore it," continued Delilah, "and close the mouth, Gerniam. So here is the situation: you take away the angelic armies," she said, effectively taking away the small pawns from the map, "and the only one left in front of the demon armies is me."
She put the grey pawn representing her in front of the black pawns of the demon armies.
"How do I win?"
"But, certainly, you won't be alone!" protested Gerniam again. "We can help!"
She looked at him fixedly and he ended up looking down.
"Remember who I am, Gerniam. I am Delilah Demon's child and none of you trusts me enough to follow my lead and, anyway, I'm used to fight alone. So tell me how to win alone."
Gerniam surrendered and called his best strategists, Nymrial among them. Delilah didn't remain silent and participated actively at the discussion; willy-nilly they had to agree to her advices. Nymrial was hiding a smile, obviously enjoying a lot the situation. Little by little they all came to listen to her and she ended up being the only one to speak. One had to admit she was best placed to know her own limits and, as some could noticed, she seemed to know the demon armies quite well - or else she knew how to extrapolate from what they had showed her.
After much discussion, they came to the conclusion that only the attack of one particular section could hinder seriously the demon prince. The problem was that, if they knew of the existence of the section, Varaxador's warriors had no idea as for its use.
"We don't know who will be the leader of this section," sighed Gerniam.
"Actually," added Nymrial, "we think the leader is not with the Demons yet. He may still to be found. One really efficient way to prevent the coming battle would be to find this leader before the Demons. We don't know the use of this section but its strategic position lets think of the worse."
Delilah nodded. Nymrial's analysis was in total agreement with hers.
"Very well. Thank you for your help."
"Demon's child! We will still continue to follow their moves. If we notice they're moving to avoid our strategy to attack them, we will hold you responsible and you won't be able to hide from us," Gerniam warned her.
She looked at him and shrugged.
"Then you will be stupid. Any of you could betray 'us' to the Demons or they could even be clever enough as to revise their strategy. You know, Demons are not stupid and frankly, this section intrigues me. It's almost too obvious, it could very well be a trap."
Gerniam had an embarrassed cough and Nymrial laughed softly.
"Actually this section is their best secret and even we are not supposed to know about it."
"Nymrial!" snapped Gerniam.
"Oh I see..." said Delilah chewing thoughtfully her lower lip. "Hmm, that makes the whole thing a bit more interesting..."
She looked around her and her mind registered the face of everybody being present.
"If we are betrayed I shall find who's guilty and punish him or her myself. Have a good day."
She left the room, followed by Nymrial's soft laugh.
Tyrael was waiting for her outside but Yawni was the fastest to greet her.
"What did you learn?"
"Where to attack."
"You know, it's really boring to wait outside," he half-complained.
"Here's your sword. Thank you for thinking of the scabbard."
"Most welcome."
"Tyrael, do you think the angelic armies will intervene?"
"Honestly? I don't think so."
"Because of me, huh?"
"Most probably, yes."
"They would condemn them all just because of me? It makes no sense."
"Seraphim and Cherubim don't always judge with their mind. You are considered to be dangerous, Delilah."
"Poor Heaven! They should rather put its fate in your hands, it would be safer."
Tyrael blushed slightly.
"So now what?"
"Now we go east, cross the Red Plains and go straight to the Misty Mounts for Nyras's temple."
"What can Nyras's priests do for you?"
"I don't care for their help before the battle. But I want them to promise me to do something if I succeed," she said, her face slightly tense.
"Do what?" asked Tyrael puzzled.
"Rehabilitate my mother's name."
"Not yours with it?"
"I don't care for me. I have no child to give a bad reputation to. But I want my mother's name to be cleared. That's all that matters to me."
Tyrael nodded comprehensively.
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