Uriel: The Price (Airel Saga Book Six)

Chapter VII

Mountains of Hijaz, Present Day

THE ANGEL OF EDEN stood like a tower of bronze as the Eden Detachment gathered near him on the garden wall. The air was taut. The Brotherhood horde had finally mobilized. Men and demons chanted in withering black speech as they approached, and yet the angelic host waited for their captain to issue orders. The wall of Eden could withstand any army. Although they were outnumbered, they were still blessed by the power of El.

Even so, he could feel it wane, and he knew his men could too.

Time had run out.

Flame burst from below as the Angel of Fire engaged the front line of the Brotherhood advance.

"Fly," he whispered, and like a storm, the angels poured down from the wall, loosing a hail of spears and arrows. Blades of swords and axes hacked and crashed into the black fog of membranous wings and foul flesh below.

He could feel now more than ever the power in the drain. The Brotherhood was sucking him and his forces dry. He drew his sword and dropped into the melee. The sounds of close battle were unmatched. It had been millennia since he had drawn cold steel in anger. He looked around for the young one as he hacked through talons and scraping swords, men dying. He saw him in the distance, flying in great loops as he had been trained, striking parallel to enemy lines, flanking them, taking ten or more at a time. Good boy. To his other side, he beheld one of his other old guard, removing enemy heads with the two-bitted battle axe, flying, spinning, hacking at demon flesh like a harvester. Men and beasts were thrust through with angel blades, and there was the sound of bones breaking, grist in the mill. There was no music as terrible as this. There was no mere talk. There was only death's threshing floor, and these honorable Defenders of Eden were the winnowing fork.

But than a giant white demon, chalked and enrobed in mossy tangles of decay, came forth from the enemy ranks. Each of its hands was like the branches of a great dead and fruitless tree. It advanced and stood face-to face-with the Angel of Fire.

Right at the Gate.

He watched as fire subsumed the angel's form, shielding him and blinding his foes. "Get back!" he commanded his men, giving the Guardian of the Gate of Eden ample space to maneuver.

The Angel of Fire swelled with a flourish, a great heavenly sword in each hand, coming to his ready position.

The giant demon took hold of his prey and tore it in half.

The hope of victory abandoned him as he watched the most powerful of Eden's angels become snuffed like a wet wick. El, where is the help we were promised?

He dodged a slashing tail and flew toward the giant white demon.

It turned toward him, looking bored.

Is there no end to evil? Every death of the Eden Detachment was relayed to his mind; he could feel every death. The young one and his old friend might still be fighting, but exhaustion was pounding in on all of them. It was no use; they would stand guarding the Tree, and he would be the last to die defending it. It was better this way, to die doing what they were created to do.

"You need not die, Captain of El," the giant white demon spoke, its voice like the rasp of dead leaves in a cold wind. "Show us the Tree and we will let you live."

Eden was a place of many secrets. "I will never surrender the Tree or Eden."

"I will rip it up by the roots; you shall watch me do it." It kicked the flaming corpse of the Angel of Fire as it stepped toward him, flicking his sword away and laughing.

He flew a little higher and circled around, searching for his soldiers. He called out for his old friend and heard nothing. The young one was now gone, he was sure. He didn't want to admit it, but they were all gone. Now there was no denying it—the Eden Detachment was lost. The noises of the battle drew to a quiet, and he could feel only the remnant of the six who stood in guard around the Tree.

"Still believe in your God?" The white demon snatched him out of the air by the neck and lifted him high as a trophy for his horde to behold. They greeted the white demon with a cheer, holding up their dead in response. It turned back to him. "Where is your God now?"

El, help me. He was so weak, he couldn't answer his captor. He stared across the mass of men and demons, at the broken bodies of his soldiers, and prayed for mercy.

But none came. The gates were broken down, and he was powerless to do anything but watch as the Brotherhood stormed into Eden.

But they did not get far.

Just inside the gate, his captor spun, crouched, and growled low. He then saw what the rest of the horde army saw—a blaze of white speeding toward them.

"What is this?" the white demon said.

It was Kreios. With thousands of the damned in his wake.

The white demon cursed tossing him aside. "Kreios!"

Above the Gate of Eden, the lines were drawn in the sky. Kreios and Cain stood at the front of the Host of the Damned, an army of warriors who couldn't be vanquished by any but the word of El. Opposite these was the invasion force of the Brotherhood.

The white demon spoke. "You can see with your own eyes that I have already won, Kreios." It sniffed the air. "And I do not sense the Sword of Light in your possession. What brings you to this battle hoping for victory, Kreios the Fallen? Kreios the Rebel?" There was Brotherhood laughter at this taunt.

Kreios the Angel of Death glowed blue around the markings of his neck and arms. "Asmodeus, you will not see the sun of another day. I came for your Nri Brothers. And now I come for you. It is time to make an end of your kind once and for all."