Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II

(Seven Years Before Ammon’s Challenge)

For a week after the cave incident, Exousia remained locked up inside the barracks. She knew that she was either being punished for what she’d done or contained so that she wouldn’t do it again, despite the obvious lies about it being for her own protection. Still, the time alone gave her a chance to finish a spiritual detox from the remaining psychic influence left by the Hydra. Even if she hadn’t realized it at the time, evidence showed that she had not wielded her demon influence as correctly as she’d thought. Some of its will had spilled over into hers. But Exousia had purged the foreign presence from her mind by now, and still remained locked up.

Trying to make the most of her imprisonment, Exousia spent most of her time training in martial arts, both alone and with the occasional loyalist visitor. As it turned out, some of them were admittedly competent, and often had a move or two to teach her (whether they were aware of that fact or not). So, while she didn’t exactly play nice with these sparring partners, she was polite enough that they’d come back.

But Exousia didn’t hear from the Archangels again for several days. The week of confinement became several, and eventually a month. That month turned into several, and she began to lose track of time. It was only by remembering the millennia of imprisonment that most demons had endured which kept her from going into another rage, this one entirely of her own.

There were also some history books that Raphael had left, which occupied some of her time as well. She thumbed through them whenever she was too tired to spar but too awake to sleep. And though the information seemed useful, the books were not an enjoyable read. She found the angelic text to be rather bland, especially compared with those written in the demon language.

Even in written form, the demon language caused one to physically feel the contents of the text, as passive pain. While this wasn’t always pleasant, it made the material feel more substantial and consequential. There was a magical effect to the angelic text as well, an essence that was almost healing in the way the musical tone acted like balm to the mind.

To Exousia, this effect was too honey sweet. Still, it was something to occupy her time as the months dragged on.

After about three months of punishment had passed, Exousia awoke one morning to someone opening her door. She half-expected to see a familiar loyalist there to train her. But, when the door opened, she instead saw several dozen guards with full armor and weapons at the ready. Their expressions were strained like they were struggling to control their anger. It didn’t take long to figure out why.

Kueng stepped from between them and into the barracks. His wrappings were all gone, leaving him in only a red shirt and shorts that hung loosely from his bony frame. Wrapped around his shoulder was a satchel that did not look like one of his own. He nodded graciously towards them and said, “My thanks for your hospitality.” There was not a drop of sarcasm in his tone.

The angels’ only responses were silent glares. One of them stepped forward to close and lock the doors behind him.

Kueng walked to a table in the center of the room, which was covered in books. He pulled a second chair to it, nodded politely, sat down, and beckoned his new student to the table.

Exousia got up from her bed, walked over, and sat down at the table. “Do they hate all demons this much?”

“They have more animosity towards some, less towards others,” Kueng said, with a shrug of his shoulders that indicated an indifference at their behavior towards him. He dug through his satchel and pulled out a pouch of brown powder, a smaller one of red spice, two cups, and a thermos of hot water. Then he combined these, releasing an aroma of chocolate with cayenne pepper, and then offered the fuller cup.

“Thanks,” Exousia said, taking a sip of the bitter, spicy drink. It made her eyes water a little but in a good way. The food she’d eaten in the barracks was palatable, of course. But, much like the books, it was a bit too … perfect for her liking. This hot chocolate, which was sharply bitter and a bit too spicy, made her feel much more at home.

“Of course,” Kueng replied, taking a sip of his own and then pausing to enjoy it. “I find that messages are often best given over a hot drink, particularly the more difficult ones. It makes the recipient more relaxed and puts forward the impression that I take no joy in whatever unpleasant news they might receive.”

“Do you have bad news for me?” Exousia asked, lowering her cup.

Kueng chuckled softly, took another sip, and shook his head. “No … I just thought you could use a comfort from home after the time you’ve had. I hear that you butted heads with Michael.”

“He’s a fool,” Exousia grumbled.

“And then abandoned angelic warriors to fight a Hydra by yourself,” Kueng continued.

“They were fools,” Exousia repeated in the same tone.

“And then extinguished the torches they needed to find their way back out of those caverns.”

Exousia sighed and shook her head. “Anybody who wasn’t a fool would have been fine. Besides, I brought the Hydra with me, so they weren’t in any danger.”

“One of them was lost in there for a week,” Kueng replied though he didn’t look too concerned about them. He simply regarded it as an interesting point. “Then you took out twenty loyalists.”

“Only three or four … the Hydra did most of it,” Exousia said, wishing she could have taken a little more credit. “And those were distracted when I hit them.”

“And then you opened a portal to Japan for the creature to escape. The angels still haven’t been able to track it down. Though, oddly enough, I got the impression that Gabriel and Raphael were more upset over the matter than the Archangel you seemed to be at feud with.”

Exousia now felt like she was being chastised for her actions. Her initial instinct was to feel upset and shy away, but she knew that this wasn’t the demon way. So, she instead kept her head straight and made no excuse or apology. “Did they summoned you because they didn’t want to deal with me?”

“They said nothing to that effect, though I suspect they might have hoped I would,” Kueng replied. “No, I spoke with my various allies and found that my teaching commitment to you was most conveniently arranged at this time. The Archangels were kind enough to oblige me.”

“Well … good. I’d rather learn from you, anyways,” Exousia said and sent a passing scowl at the door to the barracks.

Kueng smiled and said, “I see a lot of Dufaii in your actions and behaviors, perhaps a little bit too much considering the role you must play in the challenges ahead.”

This time, Exousia felt overtly defensive, but she still managed to bottle it in.

Kueng did not make any facial expression to indicate that he’d sensed this defensiveness but spoke gently as if it were expected. “Please don’t misunderstand. Dufaii is a great demon, perhaps one of the greatest of our kind. But I notice that there is a power that Ammon and others hold over him because of his emotions. He is also aware of it, which might explain why he compensates for it by withdrawing from others. You will not have that luxury.”

“My teacher is stronger than Ammon,” Exousia said, her voice breaking a little. She calmed herself so that he wouldn’t sound emotional. “I mean … he’s more cunning, more meditative, and way more intelligent.”

“Your teacher is all of those things … even if I would not go as far as to rank him above his former partner to that degree,” Kueng replied, thoughtfully. “Yet, his emotions keep him from always being able to think to his full capacity. In fact, I would dare say that he would agree with me. It is why he spent those years in isolation and why he strives tirelessly to make sure you reveal no weakness in your thoughts, words, or actions. Even when he affords those luxuries for himself.”

“I’ve not let them see me feeling weak,” Exousia said this with assurance. She had made sure that she did not feel fear, sadness, or vulnerability of any kind when loyalists were near. In fact, she had managed to put all of them off their game with her overall demeanor at every turn.

“I would argue that you have already given power to your adversaries through your emotions,” Kueng said.

Exousia immediately wanted to retort angrily and probably would have, were it not for the exact topic of conversation at hand. She would be damned before she proved him right in her very next sentence after such an accusation. With all the patience she could muster, she asked, “How?”

“The Archangels now know that you are prone to anger and destructive outbursts,” Kueng replied simply. More importantly, they know that what you want more than anything is to go home. So, they’ve kept you here doing nothing for so long. They wanted you eager to comply with their training … and already you wait in hope of their return. I dare say they’ve succeeded.

Exousia felt her jaw tighten and her throat swell. Had she not worked so hard at controlling it over the years, tears of anger would have been welling in her eyes. The only way she knew to handle this type of emotion was to cool it into a much colder anger

Kueng was right, this was what she always did and it had made her vulnerable. It was also what Dufaii did, even if he kept everything calm on the surface of his mind. There was something in the depths of their conjoined soul that always wanted to reach for that rage, hidden like a red coal under a blanket of cool ash. It felt good … and it made her feel less alone as she drew on the spirit of her teacher. But if she was going to beat the angels … and one day, Ammon, she would need to learn something new.

“I hate them,” Exousia whispered.

“I’m not fond of them either,” Kueng said, his tone soft. “I would end each of their lives this instant if I knew how to. But, instead, I use them to the advantage of our kind because it gives us power. I do this by giving them nothing. Even rage reveals the heart of our vulnerability. You’ve used it to hide your thoughts from your teacher and most other demons because they cannot see past their own rage. But it isn’t enough for demons and angels who can.”

Exousia thought about this. “How do I pretend not to care?”

Instead of answering the question, Kueng tapped his chin and asked, “The pocket-knife, where did you get it?”

“Dufaii gave it to me,” Exousia replied, pulling the Swiss Army Knife from her pocket. She handed the knife to the messenger demon.

Kueng opened the larger blade and held it between his two fingers. He then offered the handle back.

Exousia grasped it.

But Kueng did not let go of the blade. “Let us tell a little story to set the stage for this exercise. I am an assassin. You are my target, and this is your blade of sentimental value.”

Exousia felt the blade being pulled from her grasp and so she tightened her grip on the handle. Of course, she knew that what she should have done was to drop the knife and get a different weapon. But that was against the unspoken rules of the game. There was a lesson at work, and she was supposed to wrestle away the knife. So, she did, making millimeters of progress as the slick blade was pulled from between the demon’s fingertips.

Slowly, Kueng began to adjust the pressure between his index finger and thumb so that the handle was forced downward and the point up. With his superior full-demon strength, it did not seem difficult for him to overpower the position of the weapon.

At first, this only made Exousia’s grip more awkward, but soon she realized that it would be pulled from her grasp. She adjusted her body to put as much of her strength as possible into keeping the blade from flying from her grip. Immediately, she heard the metal make a terrible noise, and she could feel it creak a little in her hand. The blade was going to break! She released the handle.

Kueng flipped the blade down so that the handle landed in his free hand. Then he pressed the edge against Exousia’s throat. His expression was cold.

For a moment, Exousia thought the lesson had ended here.

However, Kueng continued to push the blade until a small trickle of warm blood trickled from her neck. He continued to press, slicing deeper into the flesh.

Exousia frantically grabbed at his wrist.

However, Kueng’s demeanor suddenly changed. His eyes flared and he bared a mouthful of previously unseen fangs as he seethed, “Grab the blade or grab nothing at all and die!”

Terrified, Exousia took the blood-wetted blade with her bare hand. She trembled as she wondered whether the demon would really kill her just to prove a point. Of course he would. If Exousia couldn’t do what little needed to be done to pass this one test, why should a demon care whether she lived?

So, Exousia twisted the flat of the blade, just like Kueng had, with her fingers. The difference was that without full demon strength, she had to use her entire palm as leverage to achieve the same effect. Still, it was enough to force the knife down and away from her throat.

However, the blade was now cutting deeply into her hand. Once again, the metal began to squeal. This time, however, she didn’t let go.

There was a pop, and the broken blade flew out of her hand and nicked a small gash in Kueng’s cheek.

Sucking in a breath, Exousia willed herself not to cry out or show any of the pain she felt, neither the physical nor … the others. She focused on breathing and on the building pressure in her face. Her eyes remained shut, and he found that he couldn’t look up.

“You want to know how to pretend like you don’t care?” Kueng asked, his voice low but back to being as gentle as ever. For the first time, she understood that the messenger demon had never been simply a kindly and patient soul. He was efficient, like a machine. A machine that ran so smoothly and at such a smooth frequency that anyone could have been fooled into thinking he was something alive. He continued, “For a long time, I wondered that myself. I found and invented a plethora of tricks for it. I trained under informants, philosophers, and trickster gods to find the answer to that question. Yet, there was always a tell … a subtle revelation of my inner self that the most discerning could see.”

Exousia listened, though her instincts told her to run and get a bandage. But she also knew that she didn’t have the physical capacity to leave … she didn’t even have the strength to stand. She didn’t understand why, only that everything around her felt like it was sliding like the knife had from her grasp. She was about to lose something; she knew this even if he didn’t understand it fully. A piece of her soul was making the same noise as the strained metal of her now-broken heirloom. All she could do was remain still and listen–applying pressure to her fist as she pressed it to her belly.

Kueng continued, “But on the day of the Second Storm, my lover was destroyed. Their mind was warped into that of a monster who had no recollection of me or of anything we’d worked together to achieve. I didn’t understand who or what they had become until we arrived in Hell. Instead of saving us, they began to break and manipulate my people into proper servants.”

Exousia bit her lower lip as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Kueng continued, “It was only by the time that the Lightbringer got to me that I finally figured out what I had to do. I let go of everything we ever had. I looked them in the eye and told them that it was a pleasure to finally make their acquaintance. For I had accepted that I meant nothing to them. So I survived and became a weapon truly usable for the betterment of my people, just as you must become. Yet it cost me something. Losing that attachment robbed me of every sharp and beautiful feeling that had made me. The loss killed a part of me … and it set me free.”

Exousia just listened, now barely noticing the wet of blood still trickling down her neck.

“The same goes for you, Exousia, champion in title to the Creator, but champion of heart to the demon people. You think you can have this one last grain of what has made you feel demon, this emotion which binds you with your teacher. But until you no longer emotionally rely on your teacher or even the feelings you think strengthen you, you will not be strong enough for what is ahead.”

It took Exousia a moment to process Kueng’s words over all the emotional pain she felt. But when she did finally manage, she understood. There was no way to pretend like she didn’t care, especially not from the demon she was to fight. She had to sacrifice her rage, her passion, and every feeling that made her feel at all connected to anyone at all. And if she couldn’t do that? Then she would allow all demons to be destroyed … including Dufaii.

Kueng did not need to look at her eyes to get an answer. He simply picked up the blade and the handle of the knife, dropped them into his satchel, and walked toward the door. “I’ll tell the Archangels that you passed my test and that you will not cause them any more problems. Use this gift to your advantage and do not give them any more ammunition to use against you. Beat them at their own games … but defeat them without achieving victory for yourself.” Then he walked out the door.

Exousia was alone again, pressing her bleeding fist tightly into her stomach. But she understood what she had to do now … what she had to become. So, she released her fist, felt a sharp flare of pain, and allowed the blood to flow from her open palm.