MAIEL SAT CROSS-LEGGED on the narrow cot. After inspecting the room, she found it to be as safe as any sanctuary could be in Samsara. Meaning there were no windows and one entrance. None of the walls touched the exterior and vents were nonexistent. Either way, this was where the resonance was and she was resigned to her situation.
Maiel settled down to meditate and regain her strength shortly after the vratin left. Her sword lay at the ready across her lap. The shield usually on her back sat against the rickety side table and her helmet was placed on top. She'd even discarded her bow and arrow, propping them in the corner. At the base of the quiver rested her gauntlets and greaves. Her sandals lay on the floor below her perch.
Relaxed into the exercise of meditation for some time, Maiel didn't expect the soft knock on the door. She opened her eyes. The vratin with the oddly strong atman stood on the other side awaiting her invitation. She bid him enter and returned to her focus.
"I hope you don't mind, but I brought you some soup. It's a bit cold tonight," he said, entering with a clamor.
The vratin stood dumb, with a tray awkwardly held in his hands, noticing her pose and discarded armaments. The bowl steamed beside a squat teapot. He quietly closed the door with his foot and set the tray aside.
"Thank you, but I'll not need to eat," she said, returning to her meditation.
"You'll find that you do," he said with a smile, sitting in a chair that faced her. "Eat. Eat and you'll take form and have time to amend your mistakes. Starve and you'll fade, fall to the shadows and suffer."
Maiel opened her eyes. The light of them made her gaze quite intense, while she paused a moment to consider what the soul had to say. She felt stronger and much calmer with the little rest she had already taken. What he said wasn't possibly true. Still, the vratin's words offered some insight about himself. He knew of the necessity of food in preventing an atman from descending too far. It was a strange bit of knowledge for a simple soul. Other details also left her suspicious, like his resonance and sight.
Maiel scanned the man's face for a clue to his character. He regarded her in similar fashion, predicting her concerns. His face was kind but stern, a familiar expression among duta when their advice was ignored. However, luck didn't provide her with a duta. His pale blue eyes, like polished agate, confirmed that he was just a man.
"Try to eat. You'll feel much better," the vratin pleaded.
Orius had unbound his graying dark hair and traded his robes for a simple black frock and white collar. He looked simpler, but no less determined. He folded his arm over his middle and placed the opposite hand over his mouth. Maiel's eyes narrowed. Something about him was familiar; perhaps he was a friend from home.
Maiel held out her hand, keeping her eye on him to discern exactly what was so familiar. The bowl of soup he brought lifted from the tray into the air. When it settled on her palm, she lifted her other hand and the spoon shot with violent force into her grasp. The vratin rubbed his bottom lip with a finger, unimpressed or careful. She sniffed the steam and a delicate scent tingled her nostrils. She raised her spoon reluctantly, knowing that food in Samsara could be strong.
"I made it as bland as possible."
Maiel's eyes shot to his. He knew that as well.
Orius shrugged.
The atman in this vratin's core must be a key to his puzzle. No doubt he had insight due to his relationship with the other guardians. Perhaps they simply provided answers to his questions moments before he'd rejoined her. Of course, it was highly likely he was a leader from one of the outposts. She eyed him, searching for the mark of the group.
Spooning the soup in her mouth, Maiel found the man was good to his word. She set the spoon down and drank the contents of the bowl, not spilling a drop. The warmth spread through her. She tried to focus and clarify her thoughts. She blinked at the empty bowl, uncomfortable with the effect, as though her atman had thrust roots into the ground, or she had just woken to a bright early morning after a long splendid sleep.
"I'm sure you have many questions—but for now, you need to rest. I'll return in the morning with breakfast. You're safe here. You may sleep.
He can't enter the rectory, not yet," Orius said. He took the empty bowl and spoon.
"I am sure you have many questions," Maiel said, watching him set the bowl and spoon on the tray.
Orius paused and she smiled to herself. He quietly returned to the chair. His pale eyes dissected her, the familiarity of them putting her on edge. Why could she not place him?
"How is it that you and your vratin can see me?" Maiel asked.
"That is a long story better left for when you are rested."
"As a fallen, I can't stay here forever," Maiel said.
Vratin Orius's brows knitted. "You? Fallen?"
Maiel nodded. "Are you frightened?"
"Hardly," Orius scoffed. He chuckled, shifting in the rickety chair. "What happened?"
"Three days ago while defending my assign's passage home, I allowed a mudeater to distract me. I took his life and then secured the assign for transport."
"And what is the problem in this? It sounds as though you did your duty properly."
"I didn't take his life to secure the assign. I took it because I wanted to."
Orius's brows knitted. The humor left his face.
"You're natural enemies. It'd be a surprise if you didn't feel this way."
"I hated him for being near me and all I thought of was casting him into Oblivion and the soul be damned if it were lost in the middle of the battle. My foolishness saw two more innocent souls stung with his venom and now their paths are broken."
Orius tapped his fingers on his leg and chewed his lip, carefully processing what she'd said. When his silence continued, she felt a need to explain further. Revenge had brought her so low. He should be able to comprehend the emotion. That thought fixed the source of familiarity at last. He looked like her pursuer, the Baron Morgentus, though older and kinder. Was it possible that Morgentus had at last tricked her? Her eyes slipped to his hands, to look for the putrid ends. If the vratin was Morgentus, he would have had to repent every evil he'd ever committed in a matter of moments and been restored to Zion, and instantly returned to this spot in the matter of a few Earth hours. That was simply impossible and his atman radiated far differently. So, then, who was this Orius? The name was right on the tip of her tongue; it was a taste of something in the past. She ran through the names of every being she knew who had fallen or was recently incarnated into Samsara.
"I ran from my alders—my king. I came here—to Earth to make things right again. I could barely focus and I only made things worse. Now—now that fiend follows me everywhere. Had I not gone to his labyrinth, he would never have known me."
"King? From your king you can't hide, not anywhere," Orius said, distracted and mumbling.
"The alders foresee everything—why wouldn't they tell me this shade waited here to ensnare me?"
"Oh—well, perhaps they did and perhaps you didn't listen," Orius said, folding his arms and sitting back. "You said you went to his labyrinth?"
"You're not speaking with a member of your congregation, Vratin," Maiel petulantly reminded him.
Their gazes remained locked. She puzzled over his identity, confounded at the meaning he held for her. If he was Morgentus in some elaborate disguise, then it was best she stop speaking. Likewise, if he reported to the outpost, he'd be dangerous for other reasons.
"Acheron's beast is best left to another time," Maiel said.
"There's always a reason, but we're not always ready to hear it. While you rest, think on that. Think on the possibilities you haven't exhausted," Orius said.
"You haven't asked me what an alder is, Vratin Orius," Maiel said. He turned back and she added, "Or what Acheron is."
"I assume an alder is a bureaucrat, like anywhere. As for Acheron, I'm versed in all the lore that tries to define hell. In the morning—if you promise to share your stories of Acheron and alders with me, I'll share my story with you," he replied.
Maiel was almost certain he was an outpost leader.
Orius left, removing the tray except for the teapot and cup. She smelled the leaves steeping in the hot water. The gleam on the bow of the porcelain caught her eye while she puzzled on what had just passed. Folding back into meditation, she took the vratin's advice. The riddle of his existence might be found there too. Her mind soon wandered the narrows of her questions, looking for paths she failed to discern before. The best way was to examine everything, so she turned to the very beginning. Her thoughts traveled back through time to her last incarnation. Under the protection of her dearest friend, she put all focus on her husband's growth, but even with such committed support, Dominic egregiously failed his dharma, and left her to wonder if her husband really wanted to rise.
The teapot lifted from the tray and poured its contents into the cup beside it. The cup then floated toward her and she lifted her hand to accept it. She breathed the steam from the comforting brew, then sipped. The liquid warmed and comforted, but it didn't warm the cold feeling in her core. Maiel sent the cup back to the dresser.
With her head resting on her fist, Maiel stared at the empty chair. All the ruminating in the world couldn't answer her questions, or so it seemed. Her head lifted, as she perceived Orius's suggestion in a different manner. Starting with the return from her previous incarnation, Maiel examined each time she stood before her alders. She recalled their words and examined their speech for twists of meaning. If they weren't forthcoming, then they didn't trust her. If they didn't trust her—most likely because of her stint in the Pits of Acheron—why would they send her to guard such an important soul? With Morgentus chasing her across the planet, it looked like they had good reason not to trust her, but risking Lena was pure madness. It made no sense. Her failures might be long-lived, but this was by far more grievous. To bind her with an immature soul, even under Adonai's blessing, was enough to condemn them. Such actions added up to a dire agenda. They sought to flush a shade from the ranks. But who?
The question numbed her from her fingers to her toes. The shade could be her own self, though she fancied herself quite loyal to the king, and was scared to even think of disappointing Mikhael and losing his favor. More likely it was a council member. They knew how to connive and they held many fates in their hands. Her lack of faith in their work was dangerous, but their failure to alert her to their efforts was worse. Alas, the possibility was insane, since they frequented the White City right under the noses of those who ferreted out such heretics. She poured another cup of tea, drank it and returned to her deliberations. The thoughts bubbling from her small shift in perspective opened monstrous possibilities she hardly wanted to confront. Most likely of all, Dominic could be the shade. Her shoulders sank as she went over their history in a panic of defense upon his behalf. That history did little to defend him. If any of them fell from Zion, things were sure to get worse very soon.
Her thoughts turned to the alder Dominic shared with her. Maxiel, of course, had a hand in this dharma. She stared into space, staggered to have come up with such a notion. That connection was quite convenient, and even if Maxiel was gruff and seemingly unfeeling, he was a highly regarded official.
The maddening thoughts filling her head exhausted the little energy Maiel regained. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. It was time to rest and worry over the details later. She collapsed on the narrow cot. Something reached toward her just as she shut her eyes. The feeling was like a caress that roused her for a night of tender embraces. Maiel drew the energy closer to discern the source. Then, suddenly, the affection shifted to a scalding pressure. The intensity deepened until it felt like a fist wrapped tightly around her throat. Another pressure squeezed her side as if it gripped her to rend her sattva in two. The hands burned like hellfire. She struggled to free her mind, violently slamming closed the connection. Gulping air, Maiel sat up, expecting Morgentus to be standing before her. No shade or shadow was out of place. She sat safe and alone.
Maiel's frantic thoughts coalesced back into a focused calm. The caress first reminded her of Dominic's touch, but the pressure held a foreign signature. She whispered his name, settling her head in her hands. She refused to believe he would handle her in such a manner. Her sattva still stung with the remnants. There was no doubt they were his. Tears filled her eyes. Collapsing back on the cot, Maiel wept, afraid and confused. She was unable to imagine why he would treat her so. Unless, as she feared, he faded.
Despite exhaustion and terror, Maiel reached across the distances until she could almost smell him. She took the last bit of energy to spare and wrapped it around him like a protective cocoon. Whatever was written, Dominic was still her husband. Once she returned home, despite Morgentus's efforts, she faced greater obstacles than being reprimanded for insubordination.
Maiel released the line. Lying on the cot, she stared at the empty wall, still reeling from the hatred in his touch. Her side ached and her throat burned. In all their time together, he never raised a hand. There was more to this attack, just like there was more to find in the memories of the near past. Her energy waned until her eyes closed and her thoughts ceased to hurry. The fluttering thought of needing to run Callidora through command exercises repeated in a loop. The erela smiled at her from beyond the Avernus. She stood in the practice room. A dim blue filtered the vision.
"I know a way to mend it. Let go," Callidora whispered, then smiled.
Hours later, Maiel woke to a soft patter on the door. She scowled at the plaster wall opposite the tiny bed and wondered how she fell into so deep a trance. Callidora's words repeated in her brain. Lifting herself, she felt how heavy her limbs had become, as if tied down by lead anchors. She still wore her armor, but the gear had never weighed her down before. Blinking, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and noticed that her hand was full and flush. The tone of her skin was almost blue elsewhere. She worriedly eyed the appendage. A cold shiver ran through her. The penannular was weak and unable to hide her from view. She touched the cuirass, afraid the metal would crumble at the slightest pressure. It felt solid, for now.
The patter came again. Maiel glared at the door, and then bid entry. The vratin's young attendant scuffled inside. He set a tray on the dresser. His small voice muttered repeated excuses. He bowed his head, clutching his hands tight around a rosary.
"Thank you," Maiel managed.
The vratin stared. He was brought to silence by the sound of her voice. He wore a pair of thick-framed glasses over his dark eyes. Removing the accessory, he wiped them clean and looked at her again. Shuffling closer, he placed his fingers on her neck. Maiel raised an eyebrow, waiting for his explanation. She would have crushed his wrist in her fist and demanded he speak his intentions, if she couldn't already read them. He was a very worried young man, both wiry and frail. Her arrival shook his resolve immensely, but reinforced his sense of the universe.
"A pulse," he muttered, popping back.
The vratin looked startled by this and his reaction made Maiel frown. She forgot her dreams, and focused on the vibrations of her resonance.
"Thank you, Father Gallo." Orius appeared in the door.
"She has a pulse," the younger vratin repeated, startled by the revelation. He pointed at her. "She's—she's alive."
"I can see," Orius replied with a lift of the brows.
Gallo's hand slipped back to his side. He looked between them, confused.
"That'll be all. You may go about your work," Orius instructed.
"Yes, Father Orius," he said nervously, then skirted around him, shutting the door behind him.
Maiel stared at the closed panel. Orius sat in the rickety chair opposite her.
"Nervous little fellow," Maiel said.
"Quite," Orius agreed, chewing his thumb.
Maiel watched him lost in a thought.
"He's very brave, also," Maiel said, recapturing his attention. She continued,
"No one lays a hand on me without answering for it."
Orius smiled a little, still distracted by his struggle to think of the right place to start their conversation. Maiel shrugged and went to the tray the younger man brought. Orius's eyes followed her. She kept her back to him, confident he was no threat. He was far too handsome and clear-minded to be the danava, and too patient and kindly to be an outpost man. She looked over the tray filled with a surprising array of food. A small bowl of oatmeal, another bowl of sliced fruit, some bread and a plate of eggs was presented before her. He'd even brought fried bacon and sausages, her favorite when travelling Earth. The meal smelled wonderful.
"Father Gallo insisted you would be disgusted by the pig meat, though he's seen me eat it a thousand times," Orius said. He chuckled, saying, "Some notions die hard."
"Is he vegetarian?" Maiel asked, taking up the tray and returning to sit on the bed.
"The scripture," Orius reminded her.
"The Bible, you call it," Maiel said, chewing a slice of melon.
"Talmud and the like," Orius said.
Maiel placed the egg and bacon on the bread and made a sandwich.
She spoke rapidly between bites and chews. "We don't eat much where I come from. It's mostly unnecessary, but we do have food. It's a shame that animals must give their lives to sustain your bodies, but so is the way of this flesh-world. It's equally puzzling to me though, why some believe that certain lives are better than others for nourishment, as if it will hurt their standing in Zion. To vilify one for being unclean—that is the worst part of it. Pigs are wonderful souls. Very smart and loving. Then some of you say that a plant has no feelings and to eat them is kinder. Is it because they have no faces with which you identify? I feel most sorry for these souls. The wretched things can't even call out, even beg for their lives. It's all so puzzling."
Orius listened to her, growing steadily amused as she rambled on. Placing his hands on his knees, he sat up, ready to begin their conversation. Yes, he was a kindly man despite his similarity to the baron, and seemed quite wise. Maiel wondered how he came to be with the church and not with a mate and house full of children.
"How do you feel this morning?" he asked her.
"I feel hunger," Maiel said, stuffing spoonfuls of oatmeal in her mouth as fast as she was able, between her breath and words.
"It's not too strong?"
"No," Maiel said around a mouthful.
"Because you're forming a mortal shell. You need the elements in the food to complete it," Orius said. He folded his arms and tapped a finger on his lip thoughtfully. "You do look better than last night. I was sure you would fade before the dawn came."
Maiel stopped eating. She stared at the nearly empty crockery with regret. Starving herself would have been a ticket straight to Acheron for certain. However, the vratin was insistent on that not happening. She wiped her fingers and mouth. Morgentus might have done the same, to work his poison into her more slowly and permanently. The outposts would likely do the same to win her service. Her sattva nervously thrummed with worry. She was certain he wasn't who he claimed.
"How do you know so much?" Maiel asked, unable to hold back the question any longer.
Orius smiled. He sat back and struggled to find the right words.
"I have experience with your kind, those who guard my fellow priests. You asked me last night how I see them? I'm gifted with that sight."
That sounded like an outpost man.
"Why don't you have a guardian? All souls must have guardians."
"You noticed." Orius sighed, and his demeanor became guarded. "You've many questions. Finish your breakfast and I'll take you for a walk in the garden. I can answer you more comfortably in the open air. I have so much to tell you. I hardly know where to begin."
Maiel swallowed her food and noticed how taxed he suddenly looked. His eyes filled with despair. If this was an illusion perpetrated by the labyrinth master, it was a very good one. He might have been able to fool her once, but he shouldn't be able to do it again so easily. The dragon on her arm was silent and an inspection of his features bore no more fruit. Did he have her already? She scanned the memory of each moment since the hunt began. It increasingly stunk of the outposts.
"I understand more than you know, vratin. As the damage progresses, my penannular will die—I'll lose my erelan attributes, the feathers of my wings and then the wings themselves will wither. My height will diminish with my strength. A bio-interface appliance will form around my resonance and I'll become more and more human—until I'm as weak and mortal as you. I'll be vulnerable to the devices of my dark enemy," she told him.
Maiel watched him eye her. The regret on his face couldn't change a thing.
"I only fear how my existence shall be without the light of King Adonai. I'll welcome them to kill me then. A terrible prison I'll occupy," Maiel said sadly.
"I can't describe how it feels to no longer bask in the light," Orius said, leaning forward with his arms resting on his legs and his hands pressed tight together. His eyes were honest. "I can tell you this: once the light has left you, only then are you lost. But—it hasn't left you. Don't give up hope."
Orius had nothing to offer her that she didn't already know. She returned to the remaining food on her tray.
Once finished with her meal, Maiel walked beside her host in the portico leading to the gardens of the rectory. A danava would have skulked in the shadows, despising the sunlight. Instead, he listened empathetically as she spoke on the matter of her arrival in his parish. His arms were tucked benignly behind his back, comfortable in the pleasant weather.
"If he foresaw this trouble, why didn't he warn me?" she asked, more relaxed.
"It's not for him to discover. It's for you to discover and show how you'll handle the tasks set before you. Is it the job of your teacher to take your tests? To study for you? Do you expect your boss to do the work and supervise you? No. We must do our work ourselves, detestable as it may be at times," the vratin replied.
I know the way to right this. Callidora's words came back to her.
"I'm a respected officio. I've served without fail for millennia. Why don't I deserve their candor?" Maiel asked.
"Do you? Why didn't you ask before you stormed out?"
Maiel stared ahead without answer. The vratin was clever, but then again, he wasn't enmeshed in the alders' games. However, he was no danava, either. Maiel frowned, looking to him without a word to say. An odd mix of emotions had sent her packing, all of which made no sense once her feelings calmed, but it was too late to mend her actions.
The priest chuckled at her speechlessness and held his arm out to indicate a narrow gravel path. In the full of the sun, the warm light on her skin gave her such radiance it made her companion pause. She turned to him, wondering where he would lead her next. He regarded her with a peculiar expression and she wondered why his conversation reminded her of her second in command. Perhaps the erela reached out to her, having gotten word of her absence. She would be anxious, to say the least. Perhaps the pale blue of his eyes reminded her of Callidora's nearly white ones.
"What name shall I give you, brave one?" Orius asked in uncertain awe.
"They call me—" Maiel replied.
"No," Orius threw up his hand to stop her from speaking. "To have your real name would be to have great power. I'll not risk it."
Orius stepped past her. He looked over the garden, deep in thought. Maiel was quite curious as to what he would say and do next. He was different than the vratin she recalled from her history, leaving her amused and uncertain. He turned back and pointed.
"Bethiah—daughter of God—or—Adonai as you call him."
Maiel raised an eyebrow. It was no worse than any other label she wore. The fact that he didn't know her, and wasn't even interested in her real name, suggested that the outpost wasn't involved here at all.
"Yes. Bethiah," he murmured to himself.
"Adonai isn't my janya," she told him, confused by his reasoning for the label.
"It's under his watchful presence and light that we grow and become greater. It's to him that each soul owes its substance," Orius said.
Maiel held her tongue; they had quite different impressions. A breeze ran through the garden bobbing the limbs of trees and the petals of flowers. She watched the grass ripple like water and was reminded of her field. Adonai's essence was there, though fleeting. She shut her eyes and turned her face to the warm sun. Her mind stretched out to the light, but a khajala held them apart.
"I feel pain," Maiel said, eyes brimming with tears at her separation from Adonai.
The agony of being denied the light underscored her growing weakness. The mixture of longing and regret stifled her breath. The emotion was not foreign to her. Indeed it was one of the most familiar emotions she experienced since Dominic came in her life; desire being the other. The lack of control over her cares was a source of greater stress.
"You need more rest, Bethiah. This change can be overwhelming, but I swear to you all is not lost. Come sit down." Orius said, taking hold of her arm.
The vratin brought her to a table set on a border of shade inside the walled garden. His presence was strangely comforting, like the wing of a dear friend, a favorite uncle. Indeed, Orius was fast in becoming the only friend she had during this trial. The tiny monastery indeed housed hope and refreshed her outlook on humanity. This was a startling revelation, considering with whom Orius shared his features. Sitting on the cracked wood bench, Maiel turned her face to the sun. Soaking in the warm radiance, she breathed deeply to settle the storm inside. Her head throbbed as she strained closer to the light. She rubbed her neck and returned to the moment. If she didn't get stronger, the gateway home would be inaccessible and then it was a matter of time before Morgentus got his wish. She stroked the surface of the ridge of the penannular on her cuirass. The atman was slumbering, dangerously drained without her atman to augment it. She frowned. Morgentus must have targeted the device, hoping to strip her armor.
"The brothers are curious about you. I promised you would meet with them," Vratin Orius said, drawing her back to the present.
Maiel opened her mouth to decline the invitation, but was silenced by the approach of the man he called Gallo. A reedy thin erela with ochre hair kept to the younger man's side. Maiel quickly recognized the Mukuru Order symbol on her breast. Her dark face framed a kind smile that immediately eased her uncertainty. Her assign carried a pitcher and some glasses. His nervous smile eased to awkwardness as he sat at the table. The guardian placed her long-fingered hands upon Maiel's shoulders and the warmth of the energy greatly improved that of Maiel's, but it wouldn't last without the light to nourish her.
"They have much to ask you. I promise they won't pester you long," Orius said.
Gallo's guardian went to her assign. Maiel felt strong again and her mood improved along with it. She frowned but accepted. Orius patted her hand understanding, and then gestured the waiting vratin to join them.
"Timor, bring the others. Come," he called them.
Maiel watched the brown-frocked men come from behind a hedge in the garden, each accompanied by their constant ethereal companions. She recognized the orders, two from Star, one from Fire and a Phoenix, a Mercury, another two from Avia and Aeris, and the last from the mysterious Order of Odin. The one he called Timor was the youngest to the brotherhood and claimed the mysterious Odin. The majority of them hadn't been present at the Mass last night and she wasn't sure they resided in the monastery or were called upon by her friend during the night. Distracting her from this assessment, Gallo poured water into the glasses he brought and set one before her. He drew a small pad and writing utensil from his pocket.
"You haven't answered my questions," Maiel said before the others began their interview.
The monks circled the table, studying her from every angle as their commander eyed her. Their guardians drifted through the garden, keeping their distance in a telling manner. If it weren't for them, she would have been concerned, although their behavior suggested that she was in greater trouble than first surmised. At least their presence kept Morgentus away.
"I'll answer your questions once you answer mine," Maiel added.
"Of course, as I promised."
"How did you know I fell? You said the guardians told you, but you're too familiar with the symptoms and I don't see them flocking to my side to lend aid," Maiel quickly started.
"They'll keep you safe, though they can't offer the answer or the doorway back. You see, Bethiah, it wasn't long ago—the same thing happened to another winged messenger, and he found his way here to their care," Orius said.
Maiel searched his eyes and then the eyes of the younger vratin. Gallo looked uneasy again. She switched her gaze back to the elder. Her kind continued to fall from time to time, as their path often took them close to darkness. Sometimes, the lessons did nothing to stop an atman which arced toward the negative half. Other times, events propelled a clear atman through a rigorous gauntlet that made it murky. The long way around was no less honorable than a direct route. Either way, duta may find themselves trapped in Samsara with no way back but through a lengthy trial. Recalling the strength of Orius's resonance, she realized his meaning. The fallen one wasn't the young man beside him or one of the other vratin. It was Orius. The puzzle came into greater focus and she tried to imagine him with wings and a form less aged.
"Oriael, guardian of the light. You've aged, but how? Why didn't you say so sooner?" Maiel asked in disbelief.
Maiel's eyes shifted over his features. This explained his similarity to Morgentus. Oriael had fallen within a short period after his younger akha was taken by the Conflict. All the younglings knew the tale. It was taught in the Ordo Priori as a lesson in control and loyalty. He was a fallen one, and at one time the most exemplary character. Not only did this eradicate the possibility of him being Morgentus, but it also negated any involvement by the outposts. Oriael had not just become recidia, but rather a rogue.
Oriael's mistake was his love for his akha, despite Morgentus's flaws. A forgiving engel, he had hoped to quell his appetites through focused duty, but Morgentus defied his akha, council, and king. He stole to Samsara, and stole the woman that turned his head. Sabereh, a simple farmwife, was never heard from again. The tale varied from there. Some said Morgentus raped her and when she became pregnant with his ardhodita, her husband cast her to the wastes, where Morgentus made her loyal to him. Others said Sabereh abandoned her husband for the promise of influence and riches, smitten by the dark engel, and broke her oaths. Those days were so long ago, the story was treated as fantasy. This meeting made it quite real.
"As you know, the dark ones never give in," Orius said. He sheepishly smiled and inclined his head, as if to apologize for not speaking sooner. "I needed to be sure you were who you said you were."
"You said the shades can't enter here."
"It's true—to a point. But they find ways eventually. They always do. That room is the only haven I've kept these many years. They will break it eventually," he explained.
Maiel swallowed. He gave his room to keep her safe. Morgentus was sure to take advantage of that. He would snatch him the moment he let his guard down and force her hand, knowing she wouldn't allow someone to suffer in her place.
"And what of your atrin?" she dared to ask aloud.
Orius clamped his mouth closed, despite her use of the word which meant demon brother in human languages. His chin lifted, almost indignant that she'd mentioned him. Orius hadn't expected her to make the connection. How could he know the story of his fall was well discussed in the duta schools? Or that it became of special interest to her when her friend revealed the fate of his jyoti? Gediel hadn't fallen despite his relation, but that didn't mean his fear and guilt might not eventually break him. Her mind slipped toward her old friend and his wolfish stare, which filled her with a calming sensation of encouragement. If he could survive such a trial, then this should be no problem for her. She softly smiled, remembering how he felt in her arms when they hugged. Her atman pulsed with a burst of high resonance, putting her off balance. She shook her head to clear the spinning.
Orius's voice drew her back to the present, but he didn't notice the change in her.
"The brothers protect me from the shades that come and go—outstandingly so. They're wise for humans and have much to offer their kind. Yet the church silences them because it teaches that these gifts come from darkness. They're sent to the farthest reaches with the smallest congregations or shuffled into monasteries with no contact. Teachings of faith often lead to fear and the result is violence. I managed to convince our leaders to send them to me, promising that I could keep them quiet and safe. My intention was to keep them safe from the forces that might seek to use them, either the outposts or the shadowalkers."
Orius checked to see if his meaning was clear. He drew a deep breath and answered her other question with some reluctance.
"This is the first time I've seen my atrin since—"
Orius cut himself off. He didn't want the others to know. The link might cause him to lose their trust.
Maiel digested everything Orius had said; her eyebrows pinched together. Morgentus wouldn't stay away for long. He'd seen his atrin last night and was likely plotting to knock two birds from the limb with a single stone. Maiel muttered a curse under her breath. Once again she was putting people in danger. She was foolish not to reach out to the outposts for help. She thought they would harm her or make her work for them with no hope of going back again.
"The priesthood is riddled with shadowborn and shadowalker. I don't want you running off thinking you're putting us in any more danger than we already know," he continued, quite tellingly, when the silence between them lengthened.
"We see such from beyond the Avernus. Is there any way back from this, Vratin Orius? A way that isn't known?" Maiel asked.
"Just call me Orius. Titles are so very unnecessary between friends. At least, I hope that we can be friends, despite an unfortunate relation."
"Orius," Maiel repeated.
Orius smiled and squeezed her hand. He gave a nod, truly thankful.
"There are only the three ways back," Orius held up three fingers. Maiel listened intently as he continued, "If you return to unquestioned fealty before your flesh is complete, you'll be able to access the way gate back to Zion. If your flesh is complete, you must die, but it isn't just any death you must die. You must be martyred—a death for a cause or life with no thought to your own salvation. You must give your life for what you believe in. Once you're flesh, you can't die any other way, except to fade. By giving way to the darkness and descending. I don't advise this last route, as it ends in Oblivion."
"If I eat, you said I'd be mortal. Why'd you curse me to this?" Maiel said.
"I fed you only enough to deny your enemies. You'll not fade and deliver yourself to the baron. Make no mistake, Bethiah. You were fading. Your penannular isn't functioning, is it? It's better you become flesh and pay your penance in this world. Though your enemies may torment you, their power is much weaker here."
Maiel looked at her hands. She wondered how fading wasn't the wiser choice. She may have gone back to Acheron, but she would've fought them—and her family would have come to help. She might even be back home that very moment. She closed the fingers of her hands, making fists. Then again, Morgentus might have trapped her there as he did before, when she had been foolish enough to let her fears overcome her.
"Did you dream last night?" Orius asked her.
"I don't remember," Maiel lied.
"If you sleep again, remember that the astral plane is a place of communication. You may reach your friends there and they might be able to help, but be wary. The astral plane is open to any."
"I hadn't thought of it. I was distracted with—I'll try to remember during my meditations," Maiel said, not knowing why she lied, but her gut reaction was to share only necessary details.
Callidora flashed in her mind. The image of her shorn braid clasped in the leader's hand followed. She decided not to disclose such images quite yet. Her evocati tried to contact her. There must be a way back, one of which he wasn't aware.
"Now that we have answered your questions, Bethiah, the brothers wish to ask some of you. Is that fair?"
Maiel nodded. She welcomed the interview.
"Good. Let us carry on then."
The other men circled close. Vratin Gallo readied his notebook and pen. Righting his glasses, he cleared his throat. With a bob of his head and a kindly smile, he spoke.
"Welcome to our humble parish, Bethiah, messenger of Adonai true—"
Maiel stared, astonished by the sea of words spilling from his lips. It was as if he was paying homage to a queen. Orius clapped a hand on Gallo's shoulder to cut him off. If left to speak, the man would have continued until the sun set.
"My apologies, sacred messenger. I'm Father Salvatore Gallo and I've been selected by the brothers to ask you some questions." Gallo blushed.
"Salvatore, I think she understands why you're here." Orius's voice rumbled with laughter.
Maiel patiently waited. She could very nearly smell the fear.
"I remain unsure on how to welcome you to our church. I've dreamed of this nearly all my life. Please forgive my formalities and ramblings," Gallo said. She stared. He swallowed and added, "We'll stop whenever you've had enough."
Maiel's mien put him off and he looked to Orius to be sure he should continue. The elder vratin smiled warmly and lifted his brows to encourage him to continue. Maiel nearly sighed from boredom, when he finally stammered out the first question.
"Father Orius answered these same questions when he arrived at the rectory. The first—where are you from?"
"Eden," Maiel replied.
Gallo's eyes widened inside the thick frames of his glasses. After a moment, he remembered himself and hurriedly scribbled in his notebook. If these men were operatives for the orders of Samsara, they wouldn't be asking such questions. All the answers they'd seek would be delivered from a watcher in Zion, transported via council documents. Maiel relaxed a little, certain at last that they had no ties with those who could make her stay difficult.
"What is your function?"
"Function?"
"What is your purpose, the work you do?"
"I'm a legiona; I serve as captain in King Adonai's armies, first legion under General Mikhael."
"A legion-uh?"
"An officio—soldier," Maiel replied.
"How old are you?"
"Five thousand four hundred and sixty Earth years," Maiel rattled off the number.
Gallo peered at her from behind his glasses, astonished.
"My God. You don't look a day over twenty-five," Gallo said.
Maiel was confused by this statement.
Beside him stood the eldest of the clan. He breathed an odd sound and fell to dreaming, adding more years to those he'd already claimed. She raised an eyebrow and allowed the corners of her mouth to curl into a slight smile, amused by the old man's reaction to her age. He was far older than his bio-vessel allowed him to recall, but she left that to other days. Gallo muttered an excuse for him, calling him Thomas. Maiel eyed Thomas, reading through his energy that his years were ending. The appliance was breaking down, but she didn't mention this, as it had a way of alarming souls, and Thomas was already quite aware of his mortality.
"Why are you here?"
"I came to set two souls back on their paths, but my efforts failed when I was forced to abandon them to draw off my pursuer," Maiel replied.
Gallo persisted for some time, rooting out the reasons of her manifestation in his world. He pondered the similarity to his own form and the decidedly inexplicable skill of invisibility of her kind. Maiel did her best to explain to him, but it was difficult to explain in terms he would understand. Duta technology was like wizardry to them. She was far from a scientist or doctor, but recalled the basics taught to her in school. Those were subjects better left to alders who worried over them. She was able to explain that their forms weren't as similar as they appeared.
Gallo drew their conversation away from anatomy to questions about Zion and its differences from Samsara. They briefly spoke on the Samsaran creation of religion and the lack of it in Zion. Gallo was intrigued by the revelation, but he seemed most interested in her family and her ketu. The occurrence of such pair bonding somewhat confused him, in light of what he thought he knew as taught by his faith. Gallo didn't push any subject for too long; Orius hinted he switch topics by coughing or clearing his throat. He then questioned her on her present experience.
"What are the symptoms you experience in this—well, what you term 'a fall?'"
"Mortal form. Demonic pestilence," Maiel replied flatly, grown tired of the weighty conversation.
Orius reminded them of his presence again, chuckling at her response. Gallo nervously peered between them. Orius's eyes sparkled with delight. The younger vratin made himself laugh; their visitor meant to be amusing. Maiel smiled, revealing that she did indeed jest. He stared at her, his laughter turning to awe.
"Fear," Maiel said. She cleared her throat, hating to admit it. "I feel fear and mistrust. These aren't emotions we experience easily."
Orius stared at her, suddenly lost in deep thought. That wasn't surprising. After all, he understood better than anyone what was happening. Realizing his caustic little atrin was at the heart of it, concern was the least of the former Power's reactions. She sensed that his thoughts pieced her story together. He struggled to make sense of why his atrin focused on her, and how it was possible that he managed to manipulate a legiona into such a situation. It would be good to have a second mind on the task. Maiel grasped his forearm, and saw the wistful longing for home in his expression. His fingers closed on her forearm.
"You stare at me like my elder akha. What do you see?"
Gallo stopped scribbling. He noticed Orius's thoughtful mien. His eyesflicked between them hoping he wouldn't miss what came next. It must have been most interesting to him to see his beliefs proven, even if the reality of the situation was vastly different from what he thought.
"I can't help but wonder," he said then paused. He scowled, hesitating to continue. "What if—what if this is some kind of test," Orius replied.
"Like a rite of passage? Trial by fire," Gallo dramatically said.
Maiel doubted it was so simple a matter. She folded her arms. Morgentus would hardly cooperate with her kind to help her rise. She shook her head and frowned. No, this was Morgentus taking advantage of her momentary weakness. She was far too young and still had much to learn before she would be given a silver crown to top her head.
"It would explain a great deal, yes?" Gallo said, now losing himself in thought.
"I have a friend near Budapest who might be able to help us. Once we present your case to him, he may see a way to get you home again. He's been working with me for the greater portion of his career," said Orius.
Maiel ran a hand over the surface of the table, feeling the rough texture. Her eyes followed her fingers and the grain of the wood, not wishing to show them her reluctance. This friend of Orius sounded like someone seeking to impress him or lead him astray. After all, Orius was dealing with incarnated humans and they could be treacherous animals. Unfortunately, he became too much like them. He'd lost his discernment right along with his wings and retained his blind forgiveness. His atrin was capable of tormenting him in ways that didn't require his presence, as there were other danava in his employ.
"I promise you, he means well. He's a man of the cloth, yes, but versed in ancient lore. They say he has the ear of General Mikhael himself. You said you serve his legion, I trust that's the ear you wish to reach."
"If you're so willing to reach out to the general, why not the outposts?"
"The outposts are troublesome. They have their own agenda and I get the distinct impression they might cause you more trouble. It's best that you reach someone sympathetic to you. Mikhael would be far better than some officio who's never met you," Orius explained.
Maiel's attention was captured. The corners of her mouth pulled down with doubt. Mikhael wouldn't have anything to do with a Samsaran vratin. He hadn't played guardian in eons and only fools thought they called him to their side to care for some banal task. Then again, there were certain souls who were unique and kept honest contact with duta while incarnated. If this man truly spoke with a duta he mistook for Mikhael, then he could get her home. They just needed to remind the brazen one of the misstep he'd made against the general. Mikhael was as unlikely to leave her there, test or not, than he was to be a soul's guide, and any duta impersonating him would be quick to amend, lest they suffer his wrath. Besides, if they could free the man—who she suspected was a danava—they would both secure their
paths back to Zion. On the other side of the coin, it seemed much more likely the outpost would have such ability to contact one of the highest generals in Zion. Their mission was to protect Earth and if she surrendered to them, they would be forced to treat her with decency. But, the thought of that became distorted with anxious worries about aggressive tactics.
"I don't mean to get your hopes up. It's mere myth—and I've yet to see it, despite my many years at this church. We both know Mikhael has better things to do."
"You trust him anyway?" Maiel asked, quite skeptical.
"All I have is time, Bethiah. It can't hurt and if he's beset by danava. Then we'll be doing him a favor," Orius said, shrugging.
"Has he helped you at all?"
Orius nodded. His eyes held conviction, but Maiel was only assured a danava fooled him.
"We'll need to leave our sanctuary," Maiel said to remind him, both hoping he was right and hoping he would reconsider.
Exposing themselves meant each of the factions they hoped to avoid or engage would chase them down, making it impossible to discern one from the other.
"I sense it'll be worth the danger for both of us. Of course, we'll need to disguise you; the basilica is very popular with pilgrims and they're not used to seeing women with wings who stand over seven feet tall and wield a gladius," he added, noticing one of the brothers studying the crimson feathers of her wing.
Maiel looked over her shoulder at the man. It was Thomas. The elderly monk took his hand back and muttered an apology in Latin. Maiel frowned at him, drawing her feathers close and smoothing the mussed barbs. She would miss them when they were gone. If she had any vanity at all, it was her pride in her strong ruby wings. She sniffed, feeling each vane and rachis slide between her fingers.
"I can't stay here. When should we go?" Maiel asked, acquiescing.
"I'll make a call this evening, after supper. Hopefully he'll be available to speak," Orius replied.
Maiel nodded.
"Gentlemen—thank you for your patience, but I think our guest would like to enjoy the sun for a bit. She's been through a great deal," Orius said to the vratin.
The vratin bowed and thanked her, taking their leave without complaint or delay. Their guardians went with them, casting reluctant glances in her direction. Even Gallo and his Mukuru guardian left them with no further questions or long stares. She listened to their retreat, feeling alone and censured. Orius remained, watching her waiver on the edge of bittersweet reflections. Maiel liked the vratin, despite their aloofness. After all, they saw a fallen one who possibly threatened the safety of their assigns. The vratin, also, were not like other humans. Their energy was surprisingly clean. Smiling softly about their innocent inspections, her energy slowly rose as her sattva absorbed the light of the sun. She longed for the moon; it could fill her quickly and return her focus.
"You'll survive this. When you're ready to speak again, I'd like to hear more of your story. I think we have much to share and may find something that can help us gain closure," he told her.
"Stay."
Orius looked at her, surprised.
"Tell me why you avoided the outposts," Maiel said, needing to know before she agreed to go to the man he had suggested.
Orius drew a deep breath through his nose. He nodded and took her hand. "When I came to Earth, my direction was uncertain. Morgentus's betrayal tore me up like nothing else could. I trusted no one. When the Illuminati approached me, they wanted to engage me in their service, protecting Earth from danava and shadowalkers. I was no longer certain who or what needed protecting. The outpost didn't like my refusal and pursued me for decades, dogging every step I took through every nation I wandered. They are everywhere, watching, like in the old days. They're the remains of what caused my brother to fall. I finally made them understand that there was no way I would become a turncoat and serve them. To this day, I have no contact with them. I'm certain, that if it is what you truly want, it would take little to uncover one watching this very church," Orius replied.
Maiel held his gaze. His reasoning made sense. The watchers of the original outposts were among those who defied the king during The Conflict. A burning atman would be more likely to hide among the rogues' gallery than in any other circle. She quietly agreed to see his friend instead