Hlaeth Chapter 56 – Not Letting an Angel go Free

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Plenty of command in that voice, enough to command armies, overcome a millennium of pain and to convey willpower beyond the truly mortal.

Not enough to Command me. “I will say when it is enough. Prepare yourself!”

It was startled enough to look up as I blew Valences, Shards broke and four Orbs formed, and the fires of Heaven burned around them like stars in the palm of my hand. Shocked at my effrontery, the Angel nevertheless spread its remaining arm wide, and the Rays drove into spirit made flesh with brilliance enough to light up the entire accursed chamber brighter than day.

The scarred Runes blazed, any last contaminant hissed and Burned free, last remnants of Taint hiding in the furthest recesses of its being forced free and scoured away by the pure full-out force of Holy and vivic energies. The Cruxes of Sin smoked and charred and wailed psychically just at the illumination being thrown off by that much power.

Its eyes were full of stars as it rose, angelfire seething over emerald-silver skin. I was amused by the sudden resemblance to a blessed Incredible Hulk. Just needed some purple pants.

“Yeah, that’s enough, now, I think.” I leaned on Mortus Dius a bit tiredly and regarded the caged angel. “Feeling lucid now?”

Muscles not attached quite the way humans were, flesh that didn’t move the same way, twisted and stretched slowly. The scarring Runework, instead of flexing with every motion, stayed firm, the muscle underneath not warping what had been wrought on the Planetar in the slightest. Damn, that was nasty stuff. Eyes full of the distant lights of Heaven looked down on me, and it stepped forward to tower over me, the crackle of the containment Circles somehow nervous as it closed in.

“Release me, mortal, if the symbol about your throat be not a lie.”

“No, and if you consider why I won’t for a bit, you can tell me why.”

No eyelids, the orbs burned a bit higher as they stared at me. It couldn’t miss the Tokens hanging from my Staff, or their significance. It was recovering from the kind of torment that we’d call biblical in scope, and slowly ramping up its thought processes and remembering who and what it was.

“The mages that contained me are dead.” I nodded confirmation at that fact. “That leaves the Fallen Ones to be dealt with.” I nodded again. “They are… close? Waiting for me?” it asked, both in anticipation and in careful consideration of the implications.

“Yes. There’s at least one diabolic influence close enough to the Wards of this place for me to sense right now. The adjustments I’ve made are keeping them from barreling in wholesale, but they are definitely watching and waiting for you to break free, as such an event would be almost impossible to conceal. And I will bet anything that when you do, they have the resources directly on hand to destroy you. They’ve had centuries to prepare, mind you… more than enough time to come up with something to deal with one angel, even a Planetar.”

“I see.” It looked about with an expression approaching irony, and the Cruxes of Sin seemed to draw back from the judgment in that celestial gaze. “So this collection of vile things is, in effect, keeping me safe and undetected.”

“That’s pretty much how I read it.” I inspected the hangman’s noose that had cut short the lives of a dozen Paladins as if they were mere brigands, sentenced in mock courts and slain for being what they were. It started to char, wavered, and drifted back away from me. “I’m also pretty sure that’s Heaven’s intent. They aren’t going to come in here, waste power and reveal themselves if there’s no need, especially if they don’t know if I’m still here and what I might be capable of. Certainly, turning the whole city into a grand white spot is getting their attention. That grants me time, you time, and we can make use of that.”

“You presume a great deal for a mortal,” it noted grimly. “And what do you expect to gain of me, that the machinations of these mages could not?”

“I’m the prophesied idiot who has to break the Doom on Taran.” If it could have blinked, I’m sure it would have. “To accomplish that, I need to do two things: raise my Foundation Magery to Valence IX, and I’ve got to sever that link to my Fate. If I don’t do either, I don’t have a chance in Hell of accomplishing what needs to be done. The Doom is waiting for me, it’s been waiting for me, and unless I can get the drop on it, events are not going to transpire as they should. I need someone to teach me what I need to know… and unless I go sucking up to the Fey, you’re pretty much the only sympathetic power left on the planet that can instruct me. I’ve got the entire library and personal grimoires of these corpse-crafting bastards to thumb through, but they won’t teach me much because I practice the Foundation, not the Pillar. I haven’t a clue on how to sever myself from this Fate that artificially latched onto me enough so the time-seeing bunuvasitches I know are in that place can’t see me coming at all.

“So. I’ve no desire to see you destroyed by the Devils outside, who are doubtless prepared to do just that. I can probably send your spirit back beyond the Veil without harm, and bring down the rest of this place, on your say-so and with your approval. If you don’t want to instruct me, that’s what I’ll do.

“Your decision, of course. What would you like to do?”

It was silent for long minutes, staring at me, considering its situation and the events, attention drawn numerous times to the golden Feather hanging from Dius.

World-Angels did indeed out-rank Planetars.

“Heaven plans far, far in advance. My trials were simply a cover and a tool to have me in place to be here for you. I can see the hand of Fate upon you… satisfy you the conditions prophesied by Destiny?”

“Unfortunately, I do. I’m not a native of this world, as you’ve doubtless deduced. In my hand is this first Staff forged on my homeworld… by me. On my finger is the first Ring forged on my world… by me.” The Baneskull atop Dius rose, and the head of my Staff lotused open to reveal the Rod within. “This is the first Scepter on my world, also formed by me. I’ve a Tradition of magic not practiced on this world, although probably not unfamiliar to a Celestial of your stature. I’m considered a Mitharn Warcaster and, hmm, was? Is? A specialist Diviner with a focus on the Now. This soulscar on my face was made by the same Devil whose skull is gracing my Staff, and my hair is considered a direct sign of Sylune’s Favor. I arrived here by turning an invading orcish Gate trying to come in from outside the Veil inside out, inverting reality and obliterating the army on the other side and in transit as the reverb blasted me inside the Veil here from astral space.

“Yeah, I pretty much satisfy all the conditions.” I scratched my chin and sighed. “I’m not too sure what the last line has relevance for… I don’t think I really need any help to get this done by others, and having some help along just puts them in danger…”

“The Prophecy has doubtless been lost to all but the oldest and most learned, whom the Fallen could not silence… all part of Heaven’s plan. It is you who have been brought here to undo what the hubris of Taran has wrought, but that does not mean you will get credit for it. As you came, so shall you go, and it is for those behind to build upon the legends your actions will unleash.”

“Leave it to Heaven to not let something as simple as a centuries-old Doom distract it from the chance to wreak some real Good in the world,” I sighed knowingly, and a ghost of a smile almost seemed to pass across the pained lines on its face. “Wielder of new magic, Bringer of new ways, Lorelord. All directly inferring that I’m supposed to be teaching and passing on what I know to others.” I sat down on a Disk that popped in behind me, suddenly even more tired. “I’ve got a wife and kids back home, waiting for me. I really did not want to hear that, you know?”

“Yes, having to endure tribulations to undertake one’s duty is often required of those who follow the dictates of Heaven.” Not the slightest irony at its own trials.

“You have a nasty sense of humor.” It didn’t even smile. “So I’m going to call you Tribulations, because you’ve probably had enough of mortals throwing your True Name at you, and I have to endure you. What do I need do first?”

“I must first ascertain your capabilities,” Trib stated, somehow managing to convey amusement without the slightest change of expression. “That will be difficult through this Sealing diagram.”

I extended Mortus Dius out to the edge of the magical field containing it, making the Wrath of Heaven on it crackle in protest around the point of contact. “Go ahead. I’ve nothing to hide from you.”

Trib regarded the point of contact somberly, the Wrath of Heaven it could not be mistaken about, and resolutely touched it, sending out an advance Assay along Mortus Dius. I allowed the Divination magic to plunge through my Astral Ward, and it washed over my body and soul before bouncing back to the Planetar.

Tribulation flinched, stepping back as its jaw dropped slightly, the air around it lighting up with thousands of Celestial characters in what was obviously some sort of external display. “BY THE HEAVENS…” it started to say, and clamped its mouth shut, its finger still touching Mortus Dius, and reading my Staff’s mnecromantics.

I waited politely while it finished assessing my past and present, the one leading to the other. With an audible sigh, Tribulation removed its finger from my Staff, and I withdrew Mortus from contact with the sealing Circle confining it.

“By those most Holy, I confess to never seeing a mortal so powerfully rounded out in magical ability,” Tribulation stated softly, its transcendent voice much more respectful. “Under the writ of Heaven, you could turn and command me, Ringlord!” it acknowledged quickly.

I waved the fact off. “Angels are not mortals, and may not have true Free Will, but they are still fully capable of discerning their own duties, as you have noted. Your experience is also likely far, far greater than mine, even if your raw power is not, and I am not a fool, my power bows to greater wisdom.”

Tribulation actually bowed to me with its one arm. “A true Servant of Heaven, Aelryinth Ringlord.” It considered the data about itself, shaking its head softly as it considered all the options there.

It pointed tellingly at a list of my Stats and the derived bonuses from them. “A minor point, but notable. You lack any Enhancement bonuses to yourself?” it inquired.

“The spells we have that bestow Enhancement bonuses also bestow visible mutation and change with them, things which can cling and linger and alter those who use them long-term. The mental effects were especially noted, and so only the physical effects are used, and those sparingly, unless they are tied to magical items which take the brunt of the physical changes. Girdles of Giant Power are popular, as they don’t involve any form of bodymorphing, but they are not true Enhancement bonuses,” I informed the Planetar. “The only way to accrue Enhancement bonuses without such mutation is the Amazon Pact, since the power it grants is Divinely-granted.”

“Then the magicks of this world are superior in that regard. You should have some accoutrements among your spoils of the slain magi to that effect.”

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