“I met one who pointed me in this direction.”
“That was probably the peaceful Urias,” she said. “God allowed humans to become kings of this world and to dominate all creatures. Your gift of will is a result of the Apeiron, the undivided principle, but your lives are ruled primarily by elementals. Primordials like Tiamat have been held captive by the dying god, Osiris of the Underworld, who has ruled the Second Age and is currently in power. He’s a descendant of the void itself, forcing self-sacrifice and submission upon everything in this realm. The Second Age is the one we live in, with man worshipping himself by creating politics out of the paradigm of his war machine and putting himself in charge of the resulting civilizations with patriarchal systems that ignore the spiritual world for materialism. The First Age was when Tiamat ruled, she was the Queen of pagan worship who connected all humans to Mother Nature, nourishing them as they spread across the Earth. Man was not evil then, because tribes don’t often morally malfunction like individuals lost in uncontrolled societies. Man’s power complimented the feminine nurturing of the species, and all that you achieved as destroyers was focused on protecting your home. You killed off other beasts in your rise as a being of light, but the Age of Woman was balanced because it was connected to the cycles of the planet, which Tiamat presided over. The Archons and the ancestors of every human alive today flourished during that First Age.”
“What is the highest being?” Erelim asked. “What is the Oversoul?”
“The Monad, the primary essence of all things,” she answered. “It was the grace, silence, purity, and peace during the first eon which continues to illuminate all with its energy.”
“The Pleroma.”
“Yes, the light,” she continued. “The second eon is now, in the duality of the design with opposites in confliction, like power and love, man and woman, emptiness and substance, form and chaos.”
“And this war?”
“The Third Age of humanity is the Age of the Child, a time of rebirth,” Illeana revealed. “The resurgence of Tiamat is when mankind can be rebalanced through personal freedom, that is why we are the Order of the Will. Humans have served the Demiurge by giving blood in war, feeding countless spirits into the void, but the coming age is one of wisdom to rediscover the will of the highest God. Heaven and Earth must be united for harmony to exist.”
“Then what is Zalmoxis?”
“After Tiamat escaped from Sumer, the dark son of Osiris, Arca Anjety, began to hunt her endlessly to no avail. In the Carpathians her exile has disturbed the Otherworld, and from the lower infinite the Serpent god Zalmoxis seeks to destroy Tiamat so that he can rule the Third Age himself. Nothing immortal ever dies, they just come in and out of power, so the Mother Goddess must be absorbed back into the Source.”
“If you kill the Rebel and use his blood to destroy Tiamat –”
“Her defeat will release the Pleroma to balance the new age. If we don’t, Arca Anjety will trap her in the Underworld to keep humanity under the law of the Demiurge.”
“So where do I fit in?” asked the Templar.
“It is arrogance in men who mislead each other into worshipping Osiris,” Armozel replied. “You seek to put your limitations on the Monad with your ego because your shadow feeds the darkness. Your spirit serves the light, but divinity rests most in Archons who live as ambassadors to transition the way angels guide your blind species towards the upper realms.”
“And the lower realms?”
Iviica Rajic gave a look over her shoulder, proud but light-hearted. “Man is connected to them by nature. It is only your respect for women that determines your capacity to know the will of the highest God. Ironic, considering the disrespect your institutions have towards females.”
“Very little evil can exist in this realm,” Armozel continued. “Law rules over all by design and the pattern limits chaos. There are few men put in such a place of power as to invite the Asuras, eternal beings of malice the way Archons are eternal beings of virtue. They take control over people when normal spirits invite them in by breaking their connection to the light. In the case of absolute tyranny, genocide is born.”
“Then what is hell?” asked Xenakis.
“Hell is detachment from the Source,” said Iviica. “Hell is for spirits who choose not to return to the Pleroma. They stay in this world with no allegiance but to their impulses, which limits their capacity for organized destruction except when they are allowed to rule an empire. It is of little consequence beyond your species, because every essence is eventually balanced by the justice of the one true will. In this life or the next, purification is agony, but it is also absolute. All things return to the Source.”
“Yet not without complaint,” said Nephoros. “Even the Mother Goddess had her contempt when the First Age ended and she tried to maintain power by creating monsters to help the primordials battle Osiris. She even demanded worship from mankind, since the sacrificial delivery of blood is a creative ritual like menstruation. The destruction of death is a mortal concern, the energy of life is all that matters.”
“Does that mean that there is power in a woman’s essence and love in a man’s?” Erelim surmised.
Illeana looked at him curiously, though her brother disliked her infatuation with the temporal creature. “You’re an exceptional being,” she said. “Love is a connection to the Pleroma that sustains a sense of virtue in men, allowing protection from the guardians.”
“Don’t even joke about such things,” Armozel warned.
“He managed to kill Padurii Stryx and survived a meeting with Zalmoxis,” Zurvan reminded their leader. “This human is obviously blessed.”
“So the laws of nature were created by separation from the Source,” said Xenakis. “And unity with the light delivers back the oneness of freedom.”
“Actualization, the ultimate experience of individuality,” Illeana told him. “Only the most powerful prophets attain this, and their sense of justice is codified in the religions of civilized man, a redemptive force to your corrupted species.”
Nephoros spotted their camp in the distance. “We’re almost there...”
“After Tiamat is killed and the Pleroma is released, Osiris will not go easily,” Armozel lamented. “There will be great wars to come, for gods and man. If the First Age ended with the Mother Goddess creating all the wicked and unnatural evils that haunt this realm, the ruler of the Underworld should not be underestimated.”
“Your worry is for another day, cousin,” Iviica said as they climbed over fallen logs. “Let us survive this war first.”
Nephoros gave Erelim a comical glance. “Better cast your spells now, the human can be the bait in our next trap. Oh not this again, little pests!”
The Archons found their tents being invaded by three-foot-tall bipeds who were digging through their things. The miniature humans had flattened faces and pug noses, and screeched with little tantrums as they were chased away. Zurvan kicked one on the backside and it dropped a stack of blankets as it tumbled through the air.
Xenakis avoided stepping on one and asked, “What are they?”
“Spiridus,” said Illeana. “They’re annoying but they’re not dangerous.”
“Until they steal your food,” said Nephoros, making sure the rest were gone before collecting his scattered arrows.
“There might be a use for them,” said the Templar. “Maybe you can guide them in what to steal. If the smallest element matters, they might someday decide our fate.”
“This war is too much for that type of nuisance.” Armozel watched the overcast sky darken with the setting Sun. “We should get some rest. We’ll meet the Wikka women before dawn.” He looked to Iviica, “Don’t forget to cast your protection spell for the human, if he’s important we should –”
Claws dragged through the dirt beside him when the offspring of Zalmoxis rushed from the treetops with snapping jaws. Their attack was frenetic,
to disorient the Archons and divide their ranks. As Nephoros took refuge behind a log, firing arrows into the swarming minions, one latched onto Erelim’s shield. He kicked at the Zilant’s scales while it was grinding the wood and hammering him with spiked teeth. The monster soon disappeared and the serpents left as quickly as they had arrived.
“Why were they here?” Armozel was cursing a large wound on his arm. “What did they take?”
“Is everyone okay?” Zurvan yelled.
Iviica searched, but the hiding places in the camp were empty. “Where’s Illeana?”
Armozel screamed into the dark. “Run, Zalmoxis! We’ll be eating your children after this war!”
“Why take her and not kill us?” asked the knight.
“That was just a hunting party,” said Nephoros. “The Rebel can’t risk depleting his army before tomorrow. He wants to lure us in and ambush us with shadows.”
“You’re a dangerous new threat,” Iviica told him. “Superstition runs deep in all manner of intelligence.”
“And what do we do about it?”
“We cut out his heart,” Armozel declared. “Everyone get ready, we’re going to find his lair.”
* * * * *
Iviica explained how magic worked and informed Erelim about the nature of good witches. She cleared the skies of rainclouds to provide them with moonlight, and the Archons made it through the prowling hunters of the woods thanks to one of her spells. They stalked the nearby caves for hours before finding the Serpent’s trap, then Nephoros scouted ahead with his perfect nightvision and reported that Illeana was inside, guarded by Zalmoxis himself. He also said that torches in the cave didn’t make sense if the Rebel could see in the dark.
“Shadow gods,” said Armozel. “He’s giving them shelter.”
“How can we lure him out?” asked Zurvan.
“I’m the bait.” Xenakis unsheathed his sword and used the blood of Padurii Stryx to cover his chainmail.
“That will hurt the Serpent,” Iviica warned as the Archons started unrolling lengths of thick rope. “But if the shadows swallow you, you don’t come back.”
“I have special arrows,” said Nephoros. “When the Zilants attack, we’ll be ready.”
“Be careful,” Iviica told the knight.
Once inside, Erelim could hear heavy breathing as he circled the edge of the cave, knowing that he was walking into a trap. The ceiling moved with living shadows that tested the boundaries of light, and he was moving between torches when the darkness passed through his chest, stopping his heart and pulling the air from his lungs. In the center of the lair sat the coiled Rebel Serpent, pretending to sleep with Illeana unconscious at its feet, her hair matted with blood.
When its prey was within range, Zalmoxis unraveled its body. Xenakis ducked under its tail, which sparked across the walls of the cave and dispersed the shadows. In one explosive attack, the Serpent opened wide and grabbed the Templar in its jaws. When its tongue burned from the witch’s blood, it spit out the human and slithered towards its escape. As the rush of air blew out most of the torches, Erelim grabbed Illeana before the darkness overcame the remaining firelight.
* * * * *
Zalmoxis shot from the cave and the Archons attacked in unison. Zurvan held a line that was anchored to the biggest rock he could find. He threw it around the Serpent’s leg, then Armozel dropped from a high limb and swung around the monster’s neck. After he let go and went careening into the bushes, Nephoros pulled his bowstring from the trees and let a barrage of arrows fly. Iviica focused her magic to guide the projectiles into Zalmoxis, but they ricocheted off its tough scales.
“Hurry!” Zurvan yelled, trying to hold the fraying line.
Nephoros shot an arrowhead into the Rebel’s underbelly and finally drew blood. When the ropes snapped and the Serpent ripped free, it quickly disappeared into the forest. From the entrance of the cave, the shadows broke around a torch, revealing Xenakis and a groggy Illeana at his side.
* * * * *
They found puddles of the Rebel’s blood and collected the black tar into buckets. As the blue of early morning was shining on the horizon, they arrived back at camp and Armozel started giving orders to the weary Archons.
“We don’t have time for sleep. Iviica, make sure that your coven of spellsenders is ready while Zurvan dispatches the Jidovi and Novaci clans. We’ll need every giant in this land to assist us. Nephoros, get your arrows dipped in the blood of Zalmoxis while my sister tells the Crusader what we’re up against.”
She was badly hurt by the kidnapping, so Erelim helped Illeana to her tent. After she was in bed, he used a wet cloth to wipe the blood from her forehead. She had trouble breathing and saw his worried look.
“I heal quickly,” she said. “But thanks for the sentiment.”
“There’s nothing I can do to help the Archons in this war?”
“Your presence could be important,” she replied. “Tiamat is many times larger than the Rebel and she’s a winged dragon. We’ll be working against both sides of the battle, but in the end both the Serpent and the Mother Goddess must die. If Zalmoxis is the one to kill her, it will build its kingdom on Earth and rule as a vassal of Osiris. The Age of the Child depends on this war, the land needs renewal and your people need a rebirth. You call them enlightenment periods.”
“What are the conditions?” asked the knight.
“The Rebel will control its Zilant army, along with shadow gods risen from the Underworld, which will drain its energy to keep them alive during the day. Our Wikka women are going to raise dirt-mound spirits to trap its shadows.”
Erelim nodded. “Controlled by light, trapped by the Earth.”
“Tiamat has the loyalty of the Stryx, who are evil witches like Padurii. They will trick the titans of the mountains into creating stone gargoyles to protect the Mother. After Zalmoxis is vanquished, we’re hoping that Nephoros can put an arrow into Tiamat, but that’s not the worst of it,” she said. “Wait until you see the dragon before you worry.” She moved the cloth from her forehead and the wound had healed.
“It’s time!” Armozel yelled from outside.
* * * * *
With mountain peaks rising to the east, they reached a plateau overlooking the woodland territory in the valley. Within the forest came the sounds of war with the shaking ground, and at the bottom of a steep trail they saw Zurvan near dozens of hairy giants tying launch ropes to boulders. Each furry breed was different in color and size, but they spoke a discernible language with simplistic rolling growls.
Iviica Rajic had collected a group of aging women who were dressed as pagan conjurers. They were ancient beings according to Illeana, and though the women looked disheveled, Xenakis could sense their power. The Wikka women helped the Archons because their dark sisters had joined Tiamat’s ranks, but the wise Earth-mothers did not practice magic for violence. For them, it was a war of penance.
As the witches gathered in a circle and spoke a string of chants, their spells raised the soil and grass in basic forms, featureless and loyal to their masters. Nearby, Armozel was telling Zurvan where he wanted the giants to aim their first barrage of massive stones, and Nephoros set his buckets of Serpent blood near stacks of already drenched arrows.
“What’s the plan?” said Erelim.
“I need to find Tiamat and get her airborne for Nephoros to have a shot.” Illeana stripped off some of her clothes to allow for better movement. “If Zalmoxis is close to victory, though, I have to protect the Mother Goddess.”
Xenakis took off his chainmail and set down his shield. “So we’re fighting for and against both sides.”
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“I’m going with you.”
“You’re human,” she warned. “You aren’t protected by the same divinity as I am.”
“There is talent in killing, like all things. I’m not just going to hope that
things turn out for the best.”
“Then dip your sword in Rebel blood,” she said after doing the same with the daggers on her belt. “And let’s go.”
At ground level, they walked by giants taking orders from Zurvan about launch patterns and there was a high-pitched screech coming from the valley. The Wikka women were entranced with sunbright stares as their circle gave off a subtle green glow. The dirt-mound spirits they raised from the moist Earth were soft from mud, overgrown with plant roots and insects, and moved like ocean waves traveling above ground. When the Jidovi and Novaci began hurling their massive boulders, Erelim and Illeana ran towards the noise of howling wolves.
With trees tumbling ahead of them, she leapt off exposed roots and the Templar followed, slashing through obstructions with his sword. Far above, Zilants were swarming around crudely-formed gargoyles that were climbing in relentless pursuit of the Serpent’s offspring. After grabbing hold they would fall back to the Earth, crushing them in explosions of fragments and dust. With Xenakis close behind, Illeana raced forward, hurdling logs and dodging walls of rolling dirt.
Boulders crashed through the treetops and hit the Zilants off their perches, but the giants were aiming for the center of battle, where the dark sisters of the Wikka were in deep meditation controlling their gargoyles. Encapsulated shadows were crossing the forest and absorbing these women into nothing. When the enchantments diminished, their lifeless puppets dropped from the branches, creating small quakes as they were obliterated.
Illeana easily avoided the falling rocks that blocked Erelim’s path, and in his detour he came across a witch whose white pupils gave him a frightful look. Before she could cast a spell, a pack of Zalmoxis’ wolves followed her scent through the area and attacked. Xenakis avoided the mindless dirt-mounds chasing the shadows and evaporating them inside, but when Illeana was accidentally trapped by one, he leapt into the soil headfirst and grabbed her hand before she was completely swallowed. He pulled her loose and she scraped the sand from her eyes.
“Follow them to the Goddess,” she choked, pointing to the wolves.