Dufaii - The Patron Saints of the Damned Book I

Chapter 3 - Divine Murder

"There is no sure knowledge of what became of the first sleeping god who woke from its slumber. All that is known was that the Mesopotamian elder god, Anu, was the first to sleep after he splintered so many fragments of himself to make the lesser gods and the foundations for life in the mortal realm.

When Anu fell asleep, the Creator took him to the Holy of Holies and devoted himself to waking the sleeping god. Anu was never heard from again. The other gods soon began to fall into sleep as well. And the Creator felt his own sleep approaching. So, the Creator made the angels as guardians to the mortal realm, more powerful than themself and all the gods.

My theory is that Anu awoke just as every other god eventually did, in a state of violent madness–with no other thought other than to consume shards of divinity to replace those lost during the act of creation. The Creator was forced to destroy Anu in his maddened state.

By that point it would have been too late for the Creator and the other gods to avoid the inevitability of sleep and eventual madness. Perhaps the Creator could have destroyed the other gods, but they couldn’t have been sure that they would all necessarily wake up to violent insanity, given the singular sample size. And even if the Creator had destroyed the gods, they would have still been left with the inevitability of their own fall to madness.”

-excerpt of “Of Killing Gods, Methodology and Theory” by Dufaii the Godkiller.

Dufaii stood from where he had buried the faerie wing in the sand. He felt a hot wind begin to blow, carrying bits of sand that hit his skin in a way that was not quite painful but certainly harsh. It was an interesting phenomenon to him.

In Heaven, the winds were never hot or cold, the sand was like soft powder, and every negative sensation was dulled. Any abrasion suffered in Heaven healed faster and at no point felt as significant as one suffered in the mortal realm. Needless to say, hunger, sickness, and disease did not exist.

Dufaii rather enjoyed the contrast here in the mortal realm. The last time he’d been here had been spent in a tundra with a hot spring. Escaping the harsh snow and wind by entering the hot water had felt blissful and somehow cathartic in a way that could not be experienced in Heaven.

As Dufaii thought about this, he heard moving water and turned to see what was causing the pond to stir. A silver point of light appeared at one side of the pond and then swiftly made a line through the center of the water. The space around the light began to spread in either direction, folding over the top of the water in a way that defied gravity and physics. Then, brown feathers entered through the silver opening, followed by the form of a very large angel.

By the angel’s size, muscular shape, and intense facial features, Dufaii recognized him immediately as the Archangel Michael. Everything about the Archangel Michael was a bit intimidating. His black hair was relatively short and wild, his face was clean cut unlike a few of the more mature angels who were working on facial hair, his body was shaped with sturdy musculature like some of the warrior gods. His wings were colored like those of a bird of prey, in an array of browns that were not showy but still impressive.

The Archangel Michael rose into the air from the water, looked around for a moment, and the descended in front of Dufaii. He said, “I take it that that Jiovanni has left with his friends.”

Dufaii felt a sudden heat hit his face. He had momentarily forgotten that they were supposed to stay in pairs for safety. Of course, he’d known that when he’d told the blue-haired angels that they could go. But he certainly hadn’t thought an Archangel would find out or appear next to him just for that.

Dufaii replied, “I told them to go, that I would catch up to them. I thought they would be safe without me in a group of three.”

“They aren’t the ones I’m concerned about,” Michael said and seemed to study him. “I know that you’re one of the more mature angels. However, you are not a god. Our kind were made to work together, not on our own.”

Dufaii nodded, feeling the slight rebuke.

“I will speak to Jiovanni and his friends,” Michael said and then lifted his hand to stop Dufaii’s objection. “This isn’t the first time that something like this has happened, and they aren’t the only angels I’m having to deal with because of it. Still, you shouldn’t worry for them. I’ve learned that some angels require a higher degree of discipline. For them, awareness of others and reflection over their own actions does not come easy. Yet they have the energy and the potential for loyalty in abundance. My plan is not to create artificial punishments for them. I want to structure ones like them into a force, a guard which is trained to protect their kind, since it does not come intuitively for them.”

“That … seems good,” Dufaii said, a little confused as to why he was being given all this information. He’d never really spoken to the Archangel Michael, only the Archangel Raphael on occasion about major discoveries in Earth flora.

Michael was quiet and seemed to study him again. Then, he nodded slightly to himself as if coming to some kind of decision. “I’ve seen you on occasion, alone in the forest. You seem like you’re hard at work with something.”

“Plants,” Dufaii said. Then, as an afterthought, he realized that he still had seed and soil from the plant that the faerie had helped him harvest. “The Creator wanted me to learn about them.”

“So, you’re one of the studious ones,” Michael said and gave a pleased smile. This was a little surprising to Dufaii, who had never sensed any semblance of warmth from the most intimidating of the Archangels. “Raphael wishes to bring your kind together similar to my guard. Not out of the sort of practical necessity of my own projects, but she does think it will make all of your work a bit more … dynamic.”

“I’ve heard,” Dufaii said with a nod. “I do plan to join her.”

“Good!” Michael said. “We all need others to support us, even if it isn’t in ways that are strictly tangible. You seem like a self-sufficient angel, which is a good thing. But even for you, I think your greatest heights of achievement will come when you have others who understand you enough to help you get there. I know that it can be … challenging … to find people like that sometimes. As an Archangel, I have a natural comradery with Raphael and Gabriel. Still, sometimes I feel like I’m … different than them … the odd one out, I guess. However, I do what I can to connect to others like me, which is perhaps part of the reason that I want to make my guard. Just don’t give up.”

Dufaii nodded, still caught up in his surprise that the Archangel Michael was having this kind of heart to heart with him. Honestly, he didn’t know what to reply to any of it and felt he must have seemed kind of foolish as he stood there quietly listening.

Michael beckoned him and said. “There is a sleeping god nearby that I check up on from time to time. Since the Creator slept, I do what I can to gather any information about this sleep that I can, to pass on to Raphael. But perhaps someone like you can spot something that I have missed. Who knows, maybe studying something like this whenever you need a break from your plants can become a project you can work on jointly with Raphael herself.”

Dufaii gave a slight nod, but he found that he really liked the idea of that. Working directly with the greatest mind in Heaven seemed like the greatest possible opportunity he could hope for. He might even be able to eventually present more of his research on plant life in a way that she could use. Of course, he tried to temper his excitement over these thoughts, as to not build up his expectations too highly. As Dufaii unfolded his wings, took off behind the Archangel Michael, and began to soar over the sands, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of new energy in his motions.

Soon, Michael began his descent.

Dufaii followed toward a small rock outcropping with various boulders and caves. Several of the same yellow geckos from before could be seen basking on the rocks, and a few plants grew in the shade of the rocky outcropping. The only water seemed to be a muddy puddle by the rocks.

The two angels landed in front of the largest cavern opening and then folded their wings. Dufaii noticed, even from the outside of the cavern, primitive carvings and drawings. They were small uneven marks that were clearly made by mortals–most likely the priests of whatever god was here.

Dufaii hadn’t been aware that he was so close to a sleeping god. He’d only come to this part of Earth because he had felt that the younger angels would enjoy being close to the epicenter of humans and gods alike. It made sense that a sleeping god was nearby, though.

This region was the capital for gods who wished to be part of prominent acts of creation, especially those who wanted to involve mortals. So, most of the gods who had first slept were the ones from this Mesopotamian region. There were a few sleeping elder gods scattered throughout the world, one in a land called Egypt, two in a land called Greece, one in the New World, and a few strange ones that had gone out of the planet and beyond the stars.

However, this Mesopotamian region was the first to bring lesser gods to sleep as well. Of course, the elder god Anu had also come from this land. The Creator had brought him to the Holy of Holies before their own sleep, but there was no word as to whether they had been able to help the elder god.

Michael paused at the doorway and furrowed his brow. He then closed his eyes and then shook his head. “I sense another presence here, not only the god.” The Archangel was using the true unspoken language of angels, that which could be communicated with the eyes and the mind rather than the mouth. It was not typically used because the voice was another angelic form of self-expression, with many angels making their voices as beautiful as they could. However, when distance or physical barriers like being under water prevented spoken words, it was a backup they could use. In this way, they could also look into the eyes of a being, especially mortals, and hear their surface thoughts. Most of the angels had learned to guard their thoughts so as to not vomit their innermost thoughts and emotions upon anyone who looked them in the eye.

Dufaii was quiet and tried to get a feel for what was inside the cave. At first, he only sensed a distant and dull but thickly concentrated thrum of energy. It was like the heart of a giant, beating in slow motion and sending gentle ripples of energy throughout the cave. As he psychically followed the ripples to their source, he began to pick up on something smaller and more erratic.

“Wait here,” Michael said and began to walk into the cave.

Dufaii watched the Archangel go deeper into the cave until he was no longer visible. He wanted to go as well, both to see what was inside and because the idea of letting someone face an unknown threat alone caused him an uneasy feeling. He could at least still sense the Archangel’s aura as he traveled closer to the god and whatever else was there. This sense made him wonder if whatever was inside could sense angels as well.

At this though, Dufaii felt exposed. But what was he to do? A thought suddenly occurred to him. What if he could block out his own aura or at least diminish it–like the angels who were able to block their own thoughts. Was it even possible?

Dufaii focused on the energy radiating from himself. It was small and tightly wound, more so than most people he’d met already. Was that just an extension of his nature? Or had he always been working on making himself invisible? It didn’t matter, now; he focused on pulling his aura in more. With just a little concentration, he realized that he could pull it in from about twenty feet out, where his aura seemed to naturally rest, to about fifteen feet.

Suddenly, Dufaii sensed a spike in the energies deeper in the cave. At least two of the presences now caused the air around him to feel like it was crackling with energy spikes. They replaced the gentle rhythms from before entirely, until only the aura of the sleeping elder god remained constant.

Dufaii had never experienced auras becoming so suddenly tense before. The closest he had seen was the aura of an angel he had once witnessed trying to save the life of an injured human. Did this mean that Michael was in danger? He gritted his teeth and strained to control his aura even more, until he felt his head begin to ache from the strain. However, he managed to get it down to about ten feet. It was enough that nobody deep inside the cave should have been able to notice him.

“Don’t – ugh,” echoed Michael’s voice from deeper inside the cavern. It sounded like he had been struck!

Dufaii walked as fast as he dared through the narrow passage of the cavern. It was dark inside and difficult to see since his eyes had not yet adjusted. He didn’t have time to wait though, so he placed the palm of one hand on the cave wall and extended the other hand in front of his face to keep from hitting his head. His thin leather shoes made minimal sounds as he focused on keeping his steps, as well as his aura, quiet.

Dufaii found himself turning a corner and then a second one before he found a source of light. To get to it he had to kneel and squeeze through a small hole close to the ground. This was difficult, and he had to bend his wings at an awkward angle to get through.

When Dufaii poked his head out the other side, he saw a somewhat larger cavern lit by yellow torches. It was about the size of a large room, with a few stalagmites and stalactites. There were more human carvings like the ones he had seen on the wall of the cave entrance. However, these were much more ornate and measured. The carved pictures were larger and more intricately detailed, depicting a anthropomorphic deity with a great horned crown, a large bird of prey, and two rivers that decorated his shoulders.

Dufaii recognized the god’s iconography by reputation alone. This was the resting place of Enki, a god known for guiding and caring for the human race in this cradle of civilization.

So wrapped up was he in studying his environment, that he was surprised when something turned right in the middle of the room. There stood a large deity who looked nothing like the god depicted on the walls around him. It was a winged creature with large scales instead of soft skin. Through there was no source of water around, beads of water rested weightlessly on all his scales and created a glistening effect with the torchlight. The refracted torchlight was cast across the room, illuminating two other figures.

The first was an enormous being, laying dormant upon a great stone bed. Red blood from a recent injury poured from his chest and trickled down his sides. By his crown, Dufaii recognized the sleeping god as the same figure from the surrounding pictures, Enki.

The second figure was moving … wrapping an arm around his stomach as he tried to stand. It was Michael, and he was injured!

“Abzu … something is wrong with you,” the Archangel said and then let out a bloody cough–sending flecks of gold along the ground.

So this was Abzu, a lesser god of the fresh water. He was the one who had done the work to create the lakes, oases, and rivers throughout this region of the mortal realm. He had also birthed a race of non-sentient dragons that inhabited the swamp he called home. He had been the first of the lesser gods to have fallen asleep.

“There is something wrong!” Abzu said in a low and raspy voice. There was something off about his tone. His words dragged, like he was struggling to keep concentrated on what he was saying. “They tricked me into making too much. They knew I would sleep, they wanted to take my power. But they fell asleep before they could get to me. Now it is I who will take their power, so I never fall asleep again!”

Dufaii began to tremble. The god’s words were manic, they didn’t make any sense at all! The gods, elder and lesser alike, were brethren in much the same way as the angels. More than that, they considered the act of creation to be their sacred duty. No god would have ever thought of wanting to keep their power or gain more of it!

“You are ill,” Michael said, with a tone of compassion that was just barely audible over his pained breathing.

“No, I finally see clearly!” Abzu swiftly closed the distance between them. He then backhanded the Archangel with enough force to send him into the cave wall behind, only a few feet from where Dufaii hid.

Dufaii stared with wide eyes, frozen by his fear. If Abzu attacked again, the mad god would have been close enough to sense that Dufaii was there.

However, Michael did not move after the attack, except to twitch helplessly.

Abzu puffed heavily through his nostrils and then switched his attention to the sleeping Enki. He approached the stone bed and looked at the elder god for a moment. His aura seemed to change briefly. For a moment, the electrically charged anger and discord became like a dark and heavy blanket.

Dufaii felt the self-doubt, shame, and even affection that Abzu felt for the elder god. Then, the moment passed, and the electric storm returned more powerful than ever. It was rage and it was terror, like the aura of an animal being eaten alive by a predator.

Abzu placed a hand on his chest and then drew it away to reveal that his claws had changed. They now emitted a faint silver glow that was very similar to the one that the angels made when they cut the water to travel. It seemed that he was projecting his soul beyond his physical form in that exact same way as for travel. Except, he clearly did not mean to travel.

Abzu began to carve at the elder god’s open chest with his glowing, silver fingers. After a moment, he seemed to find what he was looking for and drew it out. It was an amorphous solid material which glowed with the same silver light as Abzu’s hand. Only it was exponentially denser than just a small shadow of the soul.

Dufaii did not understand what he was seeing at first. When he did understand, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The large glowing silver object was the entirety of the elder god’s soul! Abzu had separated it from Enki’s metaphysical form.

The silver part was the husk of that soul, the formed identity that was the core of any being. Inside of that silver object, however, was the shard of divinity. Every living being had one of these shards, it was the source of their physical power.

Abzu seemed to recognize this fact as well. He began to carve at the silver husk with the shadow of his own soul coating his sharp claws. This time, however, he was not successful. This caused his aura of fear and rage to spike into something of absolute insanity. He tore viciously at the husk, which kept the shard of divinity safely inside. What was more, the entire soul began to pull away from Abzu’s grasp. Again, this amplified the lesser god’s terror.

Dufaii realized that this was his chance. He took advantage of the distraction and crawled as fast as he could toward the Archangel Michael. He grabbed the Archangel’s shirt and began to drag him to the hole in the wall. Dufaii knew that he was definitely causing Michael further injuries, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now.

Dufaii reached the hole and then turned to crawl out backwards; it was the only way he knew of to also be able to drag Michael with him. When he turned, however, he saw something that made his panic more intense.

Abzu was clutching Enki’s soul in a death grip and shrieking as he continued to try to open it. However, the soul was now glowing more intensely and pulling away with enough force to drag Abzu with it. Then, like a candle in the wind, the soul vanished entirely. Abzu’s shriek became mournful, and he let out a scream that echoed through the cavern and caused Dufaii’s ears to ring.

Then, Abzu looked around at the place where he had thrown Michael, and then his eyes widened in surprise. It took him a moment to realize that his victim was half-way out of the cavern, with only a wing keeping him stuck. He snarled and began to run toward the two angels.

Dufaii, who had been frantically pulling all the while, knew he was now out of time. He released Michael’s shirt and then pulled himself out of the other side of the hole. Once free, he grasped Michael’s wrist, braced himself by putting both feet on the cave wall, and yanked the Archangel’s arm with enough force to cause the pop of a dislocating shoulder and the crack of a breaking wing.

Despite his state, this was enough to wake Michael, who let out a pained scream. However, the Archangel’s pain quickly became a fierce awareness of the situation. He looked down at the hole where only his legs remained. He folded one knee all the way to his chest and then executed a heel strike.

Dufaii heard a pained shriek coming from Abzu in the hole while he frantically pulled Michael the rest of the way through. He then grabbed the Archangel’s dislocated shoulder and pulled it around his neck. More painful, but it left his good arm free to fight back, Dufaii reasoned.

Soon, they were running together through the narrow tunnel. Then, Dufaii felt a sharp impact against his skull. His body went immediately limp, and he fell. He saw stars, and his body did not respond to his command.

A little while later, he felt himself being lifted. There was movement. There was a serpentine shriek only feet away from him. There was a fight, punching and clawing. Hot blood, both his own and not his own, showered him. Then, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

The Archangel Michael was still running and carrying Dufaii. There were footsteps behind them. Michael reached the mouth of the cavern, continued running into the sunlight, and then dove into the nearby puddle with a silvery hand extended in front of him.

Dufaii felt himself enveloped in a pocket of warm air. Then, there was a splash as he fell into tepid, sweet water. Immediately, his sight adjusted. He could tell by his overall feeling of calm, the serene auras around him, and the lessening of his pain that they had made it back to Heaven. He felt himself being pulled from the water and then gently lowered onto the shore.

From there, he could finally see Michael. The Archangel looked like a horrific version of himself. His shoulder and wing both sagged uselessly from where Dufaii had injured them. On his opposite arm there were claw-marks which had ripped straight to the bone. He was covered in both his own golden blood and the red blood of the god.

Michael breathed in heavily, clearly still processing everything he’d seen. He then shook his head, looked down at Dufaii, and said, “I’m glad you were there.”

Dufaii, who was still overwhelmed by everything that had happened and which was still happening, only managed to nod. That seemed to be enough to the Archangel Michael who nodded back in turn. It was an acknowledgement that meant something, a brief connection that meant more than what either of them probably knew to say.