Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II

(Seven Years Before Ammon’s Challenge)

The inside of the barracks of Heaven, where Exousia found herself after being hastily ushered into Heaven, were enormous. She wondered if the hurry was because loyalists had been concerned about her seeing too much of their home or if they feared her being seen by those in it. Now she had been left alone in a massive building that had once seen much use. It had reached a level of cleanliness that betrayed neglect. The walls were adorned with medieval swords and weapons of every imaginable type. Unlike demons, loyalists had access to ores and minerals for making metals and other things, which meant that not all their armor and weapons were extensions of their souls. Most of it, and especially important pieces, but they could certainly afford to make disposable equipment like arrows, spears, and bolts. Though these were not as strong, they were not a liability to one’s soul if lost, either.

The room to which Exousia had been led was equipped with a bed, a composting toilet, and a few other necessities for human living. By the brand names on some of the items, it seemed like some of it had been brought from the physical realm just for her. So this was meant to be her home for a while. She decided that it was a rather advantageous setup, being housed where she could continue her drills and study in peace. It was much better than some cushy bedroom or house filled with the souls of departed humans.

Exousia shook her head and abruptly ended that train of thought. Some part of her did not want to think about humans … especially not the departed ones. So, instead, she walked to the wall and picked up a javelin that was long enough to be a spear for a mortal her size. She jabbed at the air with it a few times and then performed a memorized sequence of the moves she’d learned with her wooden staff at home. Being metal meant that it was a little slow, but she appreciated the power behind the weight.

Exousia had been abruptly told that her first teacher would be the Archangel Michael—general of Heaven’s armies. Over the course of his life, he’d trained the guard, countless special forces teams, and assassination squads. He even provided drills for guardian angels, ambassadors, and archeologists who were in the field. He’d done everything short of killing the gods. It was of little surprise that someone had determined that his training would be the best place to start.

Exousia paused to look in the mirror that covered the front wall and noticed how matted and wild her brown hair had become. There was dirt and bits of dead plant matter in it. She wore the same adult-sized faded green hoodie over gray gym shorts as she had upon waking. Her black rubber flip-flops dangled from her feet. None of these affected how well she could cut through the air around her with the javelin, so she didn’t see a reason to change. She continued to practice until she heard the barrack doors open.

Michael, the massive warrior angel, entered from the door and approached. “So, your teacher has taught you more than just assassination combat.” His voice was rough, but not angry like it had been before. He carried a small bag full of clanking metal, which was hanging from his wrist.

“He’s taught me how to fight anything,” Exousia said, sizing up the loyalist and wondering just how powerful he might be. She knew that the Archangels had been made to be leaders, as well as warriors. Their ultimate purpose was the destruction of gods and of the Creator if need be. Still, it was difficult to imagine that these clean and rigid creatures could be inherently tougher than a demon.

Michael looked at her dubiously. “We’ll see about that. Prepare yourself with the armor I’ve brought you, your training will begin soon.” With that, he turned and walked towards the door.

Feeling his curiosity get the best of her, Exousia twisted the javelin into a proper throwing grasp and hurled it at the back of the Archangel’s neck with near-perfect precision.

Michael twisted his body and caught the weapon just as the point was within an inch from his throat. His face contorted between confusion and anger, especially once he saw his attacker’s blank and passionless expression.

“Just wanted to gauge whether you knew anything,” Exousia said, shrugging her shoulders. “If I could have taken you out that easily, I didn’t see a point in staying here.”

Michael just stared at her for a moment, looked surprisingly unphased by this, and then nodded as if this explanation was one he found satisfactory. “Testing your enemy’s strength … wise, I suppose.”

“I also don’t like you,” Exousia muttered, just loud enough for the loyalist to hear.

Michael sighed heavily and walked out the door.

Alone once again, Exousia replaced her clothes with the pieces of armor from the bag. Each piece of shiny plate-metal looked like miniaturized pieces of a loyalist guard uniform. Fortunately, the metal that had been used was a light one and did not tire her too much to wear. Though it was tricky to figure out where each piece went, she had worn enough armor in training to be able to figure it out.

When Exousia was finished, she tied her oversized green hoodie around her waist and tested the armor by taking a few steps and throwing a few punches at the air. Sure enough, it hindered her about as much as any other. So, she retrieved her pocket knife and flip-flops, and put both in the pockets of her hoodie. Then she went to the wall to pick up another javelin. This she carried like a walking stick as she exited the barracks that had this time been left unlocked.

Outside was something like she had imagined and what had been described, and yet nothing at all. Even with Dufaii’s factual descriptions, unconscious memories from a previous life had led her to somewhat expect more gold and opulence. While there was an elegant aesthetic–particularly in the spiraling tower of the Library and Holy of Holies visible in the grand city a few miles out, it wasn’t gaudy. It was simple, with soft colors pleasing to the eyes. Around the barrack and the nearby grand lake, there were mortal souls wandering about, taking in nature. They seemed more like they were on a hike and just living their lives rather than existing in an eternal church service. The lake itself and the mountains opposite of the city were also quite magnificent–potentially deadly as well, which brought them all the more allure. Last, there was the wall that encircled heaven entirely. It went up about a hundred feet high … but had long since been surrendered to vines, plants, and flowers. Still, Exousia could not help but imagine them bare as the symbols of death and oppression they’d once been in her teacher’s youth.

Michael stood just outside the barrack, apparently having been waiting for her—his face stern and his hands clasped behind his back. “You’re ready to begin training?”

“I’m ready to learn your lesson and leave,” Exousia replied, clenching her jaw a little bit after she said it.

Michael’s brow furrowed; it was evident that he was trying to restrain himself. “My lesson will be the strength that comes from loyalty.” His demeanor revealed a weakness that was ripe for exploitation.

Exousia had never taken much of an interest in her study of human corruption or how to manipulate them. He’d learned from a few demon corrupters and from the writings of the old djinn wish-granters only as a useful skill to use if she was ever forced to deal with their kind. But, for the first time, she saw a practical application for that knowledge. She would get information about all the strangeness revolving around the Challenge … and come back to her teacher with something they could use. She scoffed loudly to be heard.

Michael lifted one of his black eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Exousia replied. She remained expressionless, trying her best to look bored by their conversation. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“I am trying to help you.”

“I know how to fight, loyalist,” Exousia replied, shaking her head. It became more difficult to resist enjoying this release of anger, to show his blatant disrespect. After having kept all of her thoughts and emotions shielded from invisible enemies for so long, the indulgence felt like it could be addictive. But she forced herself to bring her taunts to the topic she needed information on. “If you wanted to teach me something about that, you should have done it already instead of twiddling your thumbs for the past ten years.”

Michael studied her words for a moment and then became calm. “If it had been up to me, I would have. So, you can stop the pointless charade. Whether you realize it now or not, what I have to teach you in the source of true strength. It’s something you need, and something you certainly can’t learn from your teacher.”

Exousia felt immediately deflated at the absence of information to be found here. She considered that maybe the loyalist was lyingfore she realized that this was ridiculous. She knew a bit about his limited role in the rebellion … and most of Heaven’s other affairs. They clearly didn’t trust him with any secrets.

Exosuia felt no compulsion with saying as much, either. “So what you really want to teach me is one-way abusive loyalty. Like yours. The Creator just couldn’t be bothered to tell you about me, after all. Yet you’re willing to sell out your own kind for them. There’s nothing I can learn about that loyalty from a broken and untrusted dog like you.” Her anger was genuine and cold this time, and her words struck with cruel precision.

Michael’s eyes flared. “You are truly a stupid child if you think that things were so cut and dry as that! Do you think loyalty only applies to rebel factions? Many did not want to rebel because they understood that the Creator had sacrificed everything for us. They needed our understanding and our loyalty, and the rebellion brought them genuine pain in their greatest time of need.”

Exousia shook her head, remembering what she’d been taught. “Duty is to the oppressed, the imprisoned, and those who need us most, not to the oppressors. No matter how many treats they’ve given you when they were happy.”

Michael shook his head sharply and lifted a finger. The veins on his reddening neck were bulging. “Our duty is to those who have given and sacrificed most on our behalf.”

“Then your loyalty is bought by the highest bidder,” Exousia spat. “Too bad for those who don’t have anything, and can’t afford your high price. If the master tells you to beat and torment the slaves, you just do it. I mean, slaves don’t pay for your bread, right?”

“You are brainwashed, and your sense of loyalty is poisoned with ingratitude,” Michael said back, a bit of spittle coming out when he spoke through his clenched teeth. He nearly said something else but was interrupted.

The Archangel Raphael descended between them. Already, she regarded each with a scornful glare–perhaps even more heavily directed at Michael. It was clear that she had heard them shouting. “I thought the two of you would be training by now.”

Michael shook his head. “This disrespectful mortal has been ruined by the fallen, she does genuinely thinks she’s actually one of-”

Exousia felt tunnel vision take over at those words. She pulled the javelin back and took aim through the rage that off-balanced her.

“Both of you!” Raphael said with enough of an edge that they both stopped. For a moment, all she did was look right at the two of them. Then a small glimmer flashed over her eyes as if she’d learned something. She reached into a satchel and retrieved a mirror. It looked to have some magical purpose, but this was not revealed. Instead, she simply showed them their reflections. Their red faces, popped temples, and rigid muscles were eerily similar. She did not need to say as much to prove her point.

A snarl formed on Exousia’s mouth. She was nothing like any damn loyalist! She was a demon. It wasn’t a trick or brainwashing; it was what she was. What else could she be? Not human, not a half-demon, not a being made by the gods. It was either demon or nothing … and it couldn’t be nothing. It couldn’t.

Michael also looked like he was going to make a burning retort, but he said nothing. He took a couple resentful breaths and let the coloration leave his face. Then he said, “Let’s go.”

Exousia did so, wanting to turn back and scowl at Raphael for stopping the fight and for asserting what she had. She didn’t but not because of any sort of fear or respect. No, she suspected that the Archangel would be amused by it. And that would have been intolerable. So, she forced herself to calm down a little as she walked.

They traveled in silence until they reached a field of luscious grass and wildflowers. The area ran between the barracks and the enormous city, all the way up to the lake and mountains. It was towards these five peaks that they were headed.

As Michael led them towards the mountain, he seemed to calm down quite a bit. It was as if the walking itself made him feel more at peace. “Your fa- … I mean … Dufaii and I walked this path regularly long ago.”

Exousia furrowed her brow, confused as to why he was telling her this … and even more so to think that he and Michael had once been on friendly terms.

Michael didn’t seem to notice; he smiled once or twice as he looked out over the lake. But then, his smile would always fade into a look of utter heartbreak before he shook his head and steeled himself once again. More than once, she caught him glancing back at her with a weird, wistful expression.

Exousia shook her head dismissively. She wanted to spend her energy hating the loyalist. But she found herself deflated … and her own mind also wandering melancholically. At some point, she found herself wondering if, despite Michael’s stupid demeanor, there was more to him. After all, there had to be something that made him suitable to be an Archangel. Whatever it was wasn’t obvious. He was said to be the great warrior, and yet it was regularly told that Raphael and Gabriel had both outmatched him during it. The other two Archangels didn’t seem to have much respect for him. So, was there some secret quality too hidden to find or was it there at all?

Dufaii probably would have advised her not to underestimate any opponent. There might have been some validity to that in general, but maybe that was even more important now, in the nest of the enemy. She needed to learn about what was happening. And even if Michael didn’t know any secret about the Challenge, he might unknowingly possess some valuable information. And knowing more about him might prove useful once demonkind cemented its plan of escape from their realm of eternal torment.

Exousia decided that she needed to stop antagonizing the loyalist and instead start up a dialogue. So, she thought for a moment and then thought of a question. “Why does Heaven have gates if demons and … angels … can fly?” It was perhaps unimportant. But if she was going to learn anything, she would have to start small.

“Making your battle plans in case Ammon wins the Challenge?” Michael asked. His words seemed amused, if somber, but not patronizing.

Exousia shrugged.

Michael sighed and looked ahead like he was going to ignore the question. But then he said, “The walls were not made against demons but against the gods and the enormous monsters they created—not all of which could fly. Granted, we do have mounted crossbows, but they’re far more useful against larger targets. In this era, we would be more likely to just send warriors up to deal with any demon invaders. The walls … they now only serve as a boundary and as a way for visitors to declare their intentions. If their intentions are not maligned, they can enter through the gates. Otherwise, we can know not to trust them.”

Exousia thought about this for a moment, but the explanation did not seem thorough enough. “Now that the gods are dead, the Lightbringer maddened, and the angels split, any amount of caution seems unnecessary. You have the Creator’s power on your side, and they could deal with any threat easily.” She tried not to say the name with a negative tone.

“The Creator … has not used their power since that day” Michael replied, not sounding exactly like he disagreed. “I think they have regrets. Which is why the Archangel wield the power of Heaven autonomously from them, and have continued to develop it over the millenia. Why we represent ourselves and even them when dealing with outside forces. We take advantage of every small help we can get, including walls in a place like this. However, that is not to say that our strength doesn’t come from the Creator.”

Exousia made a face, noting that those words sounded like the ambiguous nonsense spouted off by religious humans. However, she wasn’t going to say anything.

But Michael had looked back just in time to catch her expression. Fortunately, this did not seem to anger him. He nodded as if he understood the sentiment and said, “I don’t mean that in the intangible sense. I mean that we angels have a loyalty to the Creator and, through that bond, we have loyalty to one another. You’ve … perhaps noted that there isn’t a particular fondness between myself and the other two Archangels.”

Exousia nodded, noting that it was an understatement if anything.

“Even so,” Michael continued, the muscles in his face hardening like he was trying not to show any emotional reaction to this. “I would lay down my life for either of them. I would die for any angel because they are the children of the Creator. Demons, gods, and humans must fight with reservation as they worry about self-preservation and betrayal. But our degree of loyalty means that I may fight with complete liberty because every soldier surrounding me will do everything they can to keep me safe.”

Exousia’s initial response was to point out the foolishness in this type of faith. It was painfully obvious that the Archangels, and probably many others, would never risk themselves for him. But she felt an unexpected and momentary pang of sympathy. She didn’t have the heart to say what he thought aloud. So instead she said, “But what if one … angel … breaks that trust?”

“No angel would ever do that,” Michael said calmly as if it were a simple matter of fact. “And even if they did … I would still have my loyalty to the Creator and could fight with reckless abandon. My loyalty means I would die well, even if all others abandoned me.”

Exousia wrinkled her forehead and thought about the matter. There was something of logic in the idea, no matter how misguided it was. At the very least, a toxic strength stemming from tyrannical brainwashing–which left all angels believing it helplessly susceptible to being preyed upon. One look at Michael’s status, not being an equal to the other Archangels, revealed that it had already happened.

Additionally, Exousia herself could not imagine being so devoted to a single being that she would throw everything away for them. Even if her teacher were in trouble, he had taught her that her duty was to put the fate of the world and all demons first.

While Michael’s viewpoint served well for inspiring soldiers to fight with added effectiveness, real strength came from self-reliance. It came from being able to act, even if one had to go at it alone. Like her teacher had long before she’d been born.

Still, the thought of undying loyalty as a strength to be wielded in battle wormed around in her thoughts during the hours that it took for them to reach the base of the mountain and then hike around it.