CHAPTER 16
Azazel was pleased with himself. His great design had begun well. For the first time in a long while, his furious heart made room for a small bit of satisfaction. It dissipated quickly however, and the void left behind filled with hate once again.
Positive feelings confused Azazel. He had no use for them. His rage was his fuel, and there was still much to be done. Perhaps if all went as planned, and he destroyed those who opposed and punished him, judged and betrayed him, then he would rest. But not a moment before.
He knew the youngest son was still alive, and he was aware that Armaros was healed up and performing as expected. Neither of these two things surprised or concerned him. He would deal with the both of them soon enough, and if they were together then his job would be made even easier. They would not be able to hide for long.
He was, however, getting reports of something unexpected that happened earlier at the hospital. Two of his demons had escaped from Armaros before being destroyed. Both had cried to Kokabiel upon their return to Sheol that a holy man of great power had attacked them along with Armaros. This was unforeseen. Azazel wanted desperately to know who this person was, and what type of power he wielded. If Armaros had earthly allies, then Azazel would know them and destroy them.
He sat comfortably on a dusty stone ledge in a room deep within his lair as Kokabiel led the demons in. The two were rakshasa demons. Among the lesser demon kind, there race was few but useful. Their powers of possession were unparalleled. The two cowered before Azazel, groveling in the thick dust at his feet. All had learned to fear the fallen angel. He was legend.
"Tell Lord Azazel what you told me of this priest," Kokabiel demanded of the two demons. He spoke with authority in his voice. He was used to giving orders and having them followed. Azazel allowed him alone, amongst all the residents of Sheol over which he currently held dominion, to speak freely. His loyalty to Azazel, good council, and tremendous power had earned him that right; he was also brother to both Azazel and Armaros. Kokabiel was another of the fallen.
Once he had found himself whole and apparently unchanged after emerging from his prison of jagged rocks and burning sand, Azazel had went looking for his brother. He wasn't easy to find. Even with his improved mastery of the first magic and the Bedouin man's help, it had taken Azazel years before he was able to figure out where Kokabiel was being held. It had taken more years to get to him, and still more years to actually free him and get him back to Sheol. Azazel had patience however. It was his only virtue. Thousands upon thousands of years of lying motionless had taught him that.
Imprisoned by the archangel Mikhael during the time of the reckoning, Kokabiel had spent millennia bound hand and foot, and buried beneath the mountains of the earth. He had resigned himself to his fate and was waiting impatiently to be cast into the lake of fire when Azazel arrived to free him. Excited by the prospect of seeing his beloved night sky once again, he swore fealty to his brother on the spot. He also promised Azazel that the three-hundred and sixty-five thousand evil spirits that he commanded were his to do with as he wanted. Azazel had expected as much. By freeing Kokabiel, he inherited a powerful ally and a readymade army of evil that sat waiting restlessly for its master in the long abandon depths of Sheol. After his release, Kokabiel suggested that they get to his minions straightaway. Azazel had agreed.
Together they had found the entrance to the ancient underground kingdom, but it had not been easy either. It lay where it always had, but the earth had changed around it. After Azazel brought them as near to the place as he could recall, Kokabiel was able to pin point the location of Lake Ram, an antediluvian crater pool that hid the primary entrance to Sheol, only by using the stars as his guide. They both quickly dove into the maar once they reached it, and swam towards the snow tipped mountain looming in the distance. As they approached the far bank, they dove yet again. This time they swam down into the icy, black, bottom waters of the lake.
Azazel felt comfortable deep below the surface, and he swam better than the bulkier Kokabiel. He took the lead and his brother followed close behind. They found the entrance to the aquifer tunnel immediately. It was unchanged by the ravages of time. Again they dove.
They swam deeper still. The water was clear by day, but beneath the floor of the lake moonlight could not pass. Not even the two fallen brothers could see in this environment, which was completely devoid of light. Luckily for them, they didn't need to.
They remembered precisely where they were going. Azazel didn't even so much as bump his head when the aquifer tunnel turned upwards back towards the surface exactly as he recalled it doing. Kokabiel remained right behind him, and soon the two emerged from the frigid water into the old tunnel that would lead them home.
Azazel had found the grand halls of Sheol unchanged and accommodating. Sheol was not Hell. It was, in fact, a very different place. Azazel knew what Hell was like, and he much preferred the gloomy silence of Sheol over the chaos and confusion that reigned there. He could think here, and hide away himself and his ever growing army from all existence.
The giants, or nephilim as they would come to be known, had created Sheol some ten thousand years earlier. They had traveled west at the urging of their fathers once war with mankind became imminent. They had needed a land to call their own.
Their journey brought them to Mount Ba'al-Hermon, where they raged against the mountain for a hundred years-digging, tunneling, and crushing rock-until their new home was complete. Its dimensions were staggering, and it lay hidden deep beneath the foundations of the mountain. The humans named it Sheol which meant "to burrow" because of the years of digging it took even the giants to finish it. To man it has always been a place of death, and with good reason.
During the time of the nephilim, many a human were dragged down into the depths of Sheol to work, or to serve as feed for the giants. Few made it out alive, and those that did told of horrors endured and souls trapped within the dense rock of the mountain. As is often the case, these tales were intensified and inflated throughout the years. Eventually, the name Sheol became synonymous with Hell much like Gehenna. But Azazel knew that these were three very different places. He had spent time at them all.
"I will not repeat myself again . . . now talk," Kokabiel reminded the two demons who seemed a bit overwhelmed. Azazel was pleased with his brother. It had been no easy decision for him, deciding which of his brothers to free and in what order. In the end, it was Kokabiel's lack of ambition that made up his mind for him. He wanted support, and not conflict, as he established his army and empire.
Kokabiel was tremendous. He was bigger physically than both Azazel and Armaros. Only Semjaza, the largest of the fallen, was greater than Kokabiel. He approached nine foot when standing erect, and he had the body of a wrestler. His long blonde hair hung thick and unkempt down his back like the mane of a lion.
He had once been known as "the star of God," which was fitting since his knowledge of astrology remained unrivaled. He knew the hidden paths and worm holes through the cosmos that could take Azazel anywhere in existence; anywhere the Hand of God reached, so to could Azazel. His plan to thwart the Prophecy was off to a promising start, and his fallen brother had played no small part in that success. Besides Armaros, Kokabiel had always been his favorite—and he would remain so as long as he continued to do his job effectively.
"He was a human, but he knew the old ways . . . the old magic," the larger of the two demons announced as he stood and bowed his head before Azazel. His voice was like that of a snake. The pair was mottled and misshapen. Unlike the fallen brothers who were beautiful and enormous, these demonkind were man-sized and physical appearance was not their strong point. The features of their heads were too large, and their muscular upper bodies were out of proportion to their spindly legs. The cloven hooves of the biggest one made a clicking sound against the stone floor as he shuffled them nervously and continued his report.
"The stink of the pulpit was upon him, but he was more than just a priest."
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"More than an ordinary priest my lord," the smaller of the two reaffirmed as he also stood up and bowed his head. His voice and manner of speaking was remarkably similar to the first demon's.
"Go on," Kokabiel prodded.
"The big goddamn angel was gonna kill us all, but that priest . . . he said something to him, made him take the boy and go. Then he tore us from our hosts and sent us back. There was no fighting him."
"No fighting him my lord," the smaller echoed once again.
"This angel . . . where did he come from?" Azazel asked the first demon.
"When the boy went down, he was just there. He just stepped into the room from nowhere."
"Came out of nowhere my lord," the little demon agreed, nodding his head.
Azazel struck with dizzying speed. He lashed out with his left hand and grabbed the smaller demon around the neck. Then he applied pressure. He squeezed through both flesh and bone quickly, and the headless corpse dropped to the ground. The small demon had annoyed him with its constant echoing of the larger one's reports. He didn't need to hear the same thing twice. Azazel watched as the evil spirit of the smaller demon escaped from its lifeless body to forever haunt the halls of Sheol. He looked at Kokabiel.
"Drag that mess outside of my chamber and feed it to the others," he commanded, pointing at the head and corpse littering his floor. The heavy stone dust had already settled back down onto the motionless body and malformed head of the departed.
Kokabiel did as he was asked. The sounds of others fighting for a share of the fresh meat filled the chamber as he walked back towards Azazel and the remaining demon. The creature had taken the incident quite well, and appeared no more shaken than he already had been.
"Continue from the beginning, and leave out no detail. There will be no more distractions," Azazel told the demon. It nodded and began.
"Lord Kokabiel summoned me, along with the others and told us what was expected. I sent myself immediately to the human that I have always used in that part of the realm above. The boy was already there when I took control of the old man's body. I tried to end the boy in the hall outside and without the others, but interference and a spirited host conspired to stop me. Later, though, we had him. I trapped him in a cage with the others. He was scared. He was hurt. We were going to finish him off . . . tear him up real good, and then that big goddamn angel shows up. He's right by the boy, starts killing everything around him . . . so fast. I was next. And then the priest casts a spell. It was powerful and old. Magic like that, undiluted and direct, I haven't known in ages. I couldn't exit my host or control him anymore. I was bound. At least the big goddamn angel stopped killing everybody though. I think he was as surprised by the spell as I was. He went straight to the priest and they spoke for a moment. I don't know what was said my lord. I was too busy struggling to free myself from the spell, even though it was useless to do so. After some time the big one picked up the boy and left. He stepped into another place and was not there. The priest freed us after that, and I willed myself back here immediately to report. That is all I know my lord."
"You have done well," Azazel told the demon. "What are you called?"
"I have no need of a name my lord. I survive only to do what is ordered of me."
"Give this one a name," he told Kokabiel as he nodded in the direction of the rakshasa demon. Both Kokabiel and the rakshasa seemed stunned by the command. Neither moved; an understanding passed between them with a fleeting glance at one another. Azazel did not miss the unspoken exchange.
"What is it brother? Did you not here this demon plainly? Armaros is using his magic again. Do you not know what he is capable of? I do not have time to guess what is on your mind. The two of you need not stand around like fools whispering petty secrets with your eyes."
"Forgive us my lord," the demon responded before Kokabiel could answer. "I know that you mean to reward me by giving me a name, and that is the most that this rakshasa could ever hope for. Also know that if given, I will bear my name with much pride. But you should also know my lord, that if lord Kokabiel gives me a name, I will not be able to serve you any longer. I shall be destroyed moments after leaving this room."
"The demon realm is simple Azazel," Kokabiel continued before his brother could question them further. "There is only power. No politics, no privileges, no justice. This demon survives only because those of his kind have banded themselves together, albeit loosely, in order to scratch out an existence within the rock of Sheol. They are useful to us, but not strong physically when compared to other demon kind."
Azazel did not speak. Kokabiel continued.
"The rakshasa are not highly regarded in this place. They are only a step or two away from being fodder. Their powers of shape changing, illusion, telepathy, and possession are formidable, but here they count for very little. Few of their kind could survive apart from the herd, and none are strong enough to exist here with an honorific title hanging from their neck. Only about a dozen demons throughout all of Sheol have names, and those that do are ancient and extremely powerful. So powerful in fact, that even I do not challenge their authority here. They will destroy him Azazel. If you name him, they will destroy him."
"Hidimba," declared Azazel. "We shall call the demon Hidimba."
The little demon swelled with pride upon hearing his new name. They would surely kill him now, but they could not take away the title his lord had given him. He spoke it aloud and seemed to like the way it sounded as it rolled over his thick, forked tongue.
Kokabiel looked stunned. Azazel had heard what he said and had always taken his brother's council before today. But this was different. Kokabiel remained too concerned with the demons that inhabited Sheol. Azazel had little respect for them. It was time to test his brother. This would complicate things somewhat. At the very least, Kokabiel's relationship with the demons of Sheol would become strained. Azazel had seen to that when he uttered the little rakshasa's name.
"Now," Azazel announced with contempt in his voice, "let us introduce Hidimba to your ancient and powerful demon friends." He rose from the ledge and moved through the heavy dust in the direction of the chamber opening. Hidimba hurried close behind.
Kokabiel paused for a moment, shook his head slightly, and followed them out of the room. Azazel had trapped him, but he felt no remorse for having done so. Kokabiel was bound to him. It was Azazel who had freed him from beneath the mountains when no other dared. It was Azazel who would have his loyalty for better or for worse.
As he exited the chamber, his mind began to envision different scenarios for the moment that he presented Hidimba to the great demon lords. Many things could happen. They all ended badly for the demons.