Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II

Exousia only realized that she had lost consciousness when she woke up in the early morning. She blinked his eyes a few times to correct her hazy sight. It took her several moments to realize that she was in a tent–one large enough to stand in. Close to the ground, Exousia found that she was in … a cot … covered in blankets. Removing them with weakened, trembling hands revealed an IV in her arm. A tube trailed from it, leading to a bag of clear fluids above her. The taste of saline came from the drip, along with a slight chill. Fortunately, the tent was well insulated and heated from some dry, electrical device that had left her lips chapped.

A towering, winged figure in a brown hood walked in, carrying something that smelled delicious. He removed his cowl. It was … Ammon.

Exousia tried to roll onto her side to fight, but her body was sluggish and pained. It was clearly in a state of protest over her abuse of it. So she ended up just flailing uselessly under the weight of her blankets.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Ammon said. He smiled and placed a finger on his trim blonde beard, with a thoughtful expression of minor amusement. “Though, I suppose that could be difficult to believe coming from me.”

Exousia looked around for something to use as a weapon.

Ammon seemed to note this and gave a small sigh. “Exousia … if I wanted to kill you or were I not in control of myself, I would have killed you while you were sleeping. You can barely stand. Rest, have some food, and then you can leave anytime you wish. I do want to teach you a few things, though it is perhaps a bit early for that given all the difficult lessons you’ve faced so recently. I do apologize for the pain of them … but it was necessary if you were ever going to become a worthy nemesis.”

Exousia thought about his words for a moment before she settled down. She’d figured out the implication of his words, “You convinced the loyalists to teach me.”

“You didn’t know?” Ammon asked. It was as good an admission as any, though he did not look proud of it. “I thought they would tell you. Then again, they had already agreed to my own lessons, and perhaps decided to leave it to me. So, yes, I convinced them to train you … long before they arrived at your cave. In the early days, they thought it was an impossibility for you or any human to win the Challenge. So, a few years ago, when you set that trap to burn down your house and the angelic guard in it, I saw an opportunity. I revealed to them what Dufaii had done in merging his soul with yours, and used the guard to prove that you were brutal and cunning. It was enough to plant a seed of hope in the Archangels. Of course, they were wary of playing into my plans, so there was some inevitable delay. But now, here we are. And you are stronger and with more weapons at your disposal than ever.”

Exousia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All she could ask was, “Why?”

“I told you months ago, remember?” Ammon said, lowering the plate of food he’d brought to the ground beside the cot. “I believe in what I’m fighting for. And this challenge … it’s dramatic–theatrical. The Creator meant it to be so, even if I do not yet quite understand why. It will draw the attention of angels and demons alike. Were I to effortlessly crush you, it would ruin the spectacle. But if you have a chance … if we could stand on something near even ground, then those watching will devote their hearts to the matter. Whether they cheer for you or for me, it does not matter. Because I will be able to show them the conviction of my position. That the plight of demons can continue for no longer and that the Creator, who allowed a child to be butchered just for such a spectacle, must die. Many demons will flock to my side, should I win such a contest. Loyalists, perhaps, as well. I think that you will too, by the time all is said and done. And … well … there’s the other matter.”

Exousia narrowed her gaze on the demon.

Ammon’s face had grown strained right there at the end. There was clearly something weighing on him. He took a breath and said, “I also will admit that there is a part of me that wonders if everything I am doing is … wrong. My intellect still feels like it’s there, but you know as well as I that there is a growing bit of that old god in me that I am losing control of. On rare occasions, it takes over and makes me do things that are decidedly stupid. I’ve bound my soul to humans … and not ones of a sound mind that I would have chosen. I think it is making itself stronger by forcing me to trade pieces of my soul for the souls of the insane.”

Exousia listened quietly, torn between fascination and disgust.

Ammon continued, “I want someone to be able to destroy me, if I am so weak and deluded as to have been tricked into fighting for demonkind’s destruction. The loyalists are too corrupt to be trusted with such a dire task. The Lightbringer is no better. Your teacher and Hades are the only two people I trust. However, Dufaii’s rage makes his judgment questionable. And I’ve … burned my rapport with Hades through my inability to explain the knowledge that Tezcatlipoca left inside me. That leaves you.”

Exousia just blinked for a few seconds, “You … want me to kill you?”

Ammon shook his head. “I do not believe that my plans come from my insanity; that is simply a lingering doubt that I tell you in confidence. I just want a backup plan … just in case.”

Exousia thought for a moment. She wasn’t sure about most of this … but she at least now doubted she’d be poisoned. She took a small bite of the food Ammon had brought. Chewing and swallowing proved to be difficult, but she knew that her body would need sustenance whether she liked it or not. As for the human magic she’d learned, she’s formed a tether to it that she still felt. There would doubtlessly be more training in it ahead and likely more sacrifices needed to access other forms, but the first step had been irrevocably taken.

There was a long pause, in which neither of them spoke.

Exousia felt consumed by her thoughts about the matter at hand. She could not believe the audacity of the demon’s plan, and yet it made sense with everything she’d been taught about him. He was a godkiller, just as much as Dufaii. But whereas the latter had usually dealt the final blow, it was Ammon who had orchestrated the executions and made them possible. He’d managed the logistics for the extinction of the gods, for the systemized corruption of humanity, and even for the rebellion itself. There was no doubt that he knew what he was doing now when it came to his master plan. But, as Ammon himself had said, that still left the question of his sanity.

After a while of eating silently, Exousia’s mind fixated on another question altogether. “Where is Dufaii?” she asked.

Ammon shook his head heavily. “Waiting in the woods that you two call home. He very much thinks that you are still training in Heaven. We can’t send you home to him yet, especially not in your current state. If your teacher were to see you like this, he might go to war against the angels himself.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing for you?” Exousia asked. She felt surprised that her question came so casually, almost like a joke. Though there was still rage and fear deep inside, her suppression of it, lack of investment, and exhaustion made her feel like it wasn’t there. In light of all she’d gone through, Exousia decided that it was just nice to talk to a demon who wasn’t cutting her throat.

“If I thought your teacher could win against all of Heaven, I’d have told him already,” Ammon replied with a wry smile. “So, as amusing as it would be to see the damage he could do on his own under those circumstances, I would still recommend that you keep some of your adventures secret.”

Exousia paused for a moment … and finally nodded.

“Until you are better, I’ll be your teacher,” Ammon said, his tone now less grave.

Exousia furrowed her brow. “But … I still don’t believe in your mission, and I still don’t trust you,” she mumbled.

“Perfect,” Ammon said with a smile and brought his palms together in front of him for a clap. “I’ve thought carefully and decided that it’s best that you don’t. Forget all of my convoluted claims and delusions of grandeur for a moment. This is your chance to get an inside perspective into how I work, to begin to learn how I think and how I plan. If you want to, you can even give it your best shot at trying to kill me. It’s all fair game, though I would personally recommend learning what I have to teach.”

“What you have to teach?” Exousia asked, very much inwardly doubting such a prospect.

“Of course,” Ammon replied. “I assume you know what I’ve been doing since the dawn of my time here on Earth?”

Exousia thought about this a moment, trying to determine if she was being led into a trick question. “You and Dufaii have been killing gods.”

“Good,” Ammon said with a nod. “Dufaii has likely taught you how to hold your own against the best demon soldiers. My goal is to teach you to make a plan … and how to deal with plans that have been formed against you.”

Exousia thought this might mean more dire tests like the ones she’d endured at the hands of Kueng and the Archangels. So she was quite surprised when, Ammon immediately set up a small folding table at the height of her cot, reached into a bag, and unrolled a canvas checkerboard. Inside, there were red and black plastic pieces inside. She cocked her head and said, “... checkers?”

“Good, you know how to play,” Ammon replied as he set up the board. “Red or black?”

“Black, I guess … I didn’t expect you to play checkers,” Exousia said, adjusting her position so that she was now sitting off the edge of the cot.

Ammon smiled. “I’ve always enjoyed certain human innovations. I mean, just look at all the ways they’ve learned to cook corn.”

Exousia did not reply; she still wasn’t accustomed to the demon’s oddly human sense of humor.

“Besides,” Ammon continued. “We’ve not got a lot else to do until you’re back to health.” He took the first move.

For the rest of the game, the two played in silence. Exousia had not played in a while, perhaps not even since she’d been human. However, she felt that she had a firm grasp on the concept of the game. She spent her turns setting up her pieces in invulnerable positions.

Ammon, however, moved his pieces dangerously, with no apparent rhyme or reason. Had Exousia not know better, she would have said that Ammon wasn’t really playing to win.

Yet, Exousia was surprised when the action began. She quickly found her pieces forced into situations where she had to jump, take her opponent’s checkers, and leave her invulnerable defenses. Sure, this meant gaining plenty of single jumps and thus opponent pieces in the early game. However, she was left vulnerable to counterattack, with Ammon taking double and triple jumps each turn.

Soon, the game was over and Exousia had lost.

“I assume that you saw what I did,” Ammon said, already setting up the board for another round.

“You forced my hand,” Exousia replied drolly.

Ammon nodded, looking pleased with himself. Oddly, it wasn’t arrogance or smugness, though. He looked like he was having fun. Not just with the game but with … getting to teach her? “When you are fighting a war like we will soon be fighting, you must change from the mindset of a soldier to a general. You don’t just focus on the fight at hand. Every move and battle is but one string in a grand tapestry. Win a battle and you may be put in the perfect spot to lose the war. You must also pay attention to the hidden game being played by your opponent. Sometimes their moves will be hidden. Other times, they will be plain to see. Determining why you are allowed to see what you are–which secrets were meant to be found and which weren’t–will be your truest insight into your opponent’s mind.”

Exousia listened, not particularly happy but at least now vaguely interested. Of course, she didn’t let this show. Keeping her demeanor solmen as she’d been taught, she studied the board again, trying to visualize what potential moves she could set up.

Ammon moved his first checker. “Doubtlessly, Dufaii has explained why striking first puts you at a disadvantage in a fair fight.”

Exousia nodded. She knew from experience that if her first strike was countered, which was most often the case with a worthwhile opponent, then she was at a disadvantage until she could disengage and reset. Reacting to an opponent’s own off-balancing opening action was the surest way to surprise the opponent and gain the upper hand.

Ammon continued. “So, as the attacker, what I did in our last game was to try to push your reactions.”

Exousia nodded, she’d noticed as much.

“War is an extension of this principle, but there is a difference, Ammon said. “You don’t take turns or get to think infinitely about your next move, like in traditional checkers. And you don’t get to win with a single fatal strike. Your victories must be successive, constant, and fluid–and your losses strategic.” He began to move his checker pieces without order or waiting.

Exousia had to brace herself as the sudden change in the game sent waves of primitive emotions that left her brain feeling stunned. Anger at the unfairness, confusion at what to do, and fear from how this state of being helpless–were all leading to further losses in the game. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to join the chaotic action, regardless of the fact that the match was now nearly over. She managed to take a couple of her opponent’s pieces but lost the game by a more considerable margin than before.

Exousia clenched her jaw when the game was over. This time, she took the initiative to reset the game and immediately begin playing.

Unfortunately, she lost that game as well.