Rhianon-3. Palace in Heaven

“It always hurts to find out what’s wrong before you’ve done it,” he said. “It’s different now. I took the first step into the abyss and the pain is gone. People can die and torment each other around me, and I don’t care. I pass without looking back at their trickery and torment, because I myself have become the worst.”

“No,” she protested so vehemently, as if she were among his legion of angels herself. “You’re not the worst, and you never will be. You’re better than everyone and everything I’ve ever seen.”

“People tend to worship only those who do favors for them.”

She shook her head.

“God’s perfect creation had only rebelled against him because it couldn’t stand the fact that everything around it was imperfect. There is no evil in that.”

“Then there won’t be any, either, if you rebel against me one day. It’s just that the wheel of inevitability will turn again. Then I will suffer the same thing I once did.”

She frowned.

“Is that what you want?”

Madael shrugged only a little.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What do you mean, we can’t step on it?” Manfred yelled like a madman, not a bit embarrassed to see all the advisers huddled in the corners of the hall listening to him. Just a moment and the golden goblet flew into the ambassador’s head. Manfred missed just a little. The young man, who had survived only because of his youthful agility, dared not speak any further, and Leroy took the floor. He rushed here as soon as he heard about the emergencies in the fields near the intended rally. At first the peasants were afraid to report it for fear of trampling their crops. But then they had to confess.

“The frost that covered the fields wasn’t the only reason,” the young man began in an uncertain tone.

“Not the only reason?” Manfred clenched his fists so white his knuckles and Leroy was not unreasonably afraid that the next heavy object the monarch encountered would strike him. The king was now so enraged that one could have no doubt that if necessary he would remove the heavy crown from his head and use it as an instrument of punishment, and yet Leroy took the liberty to continue.

“The thin ice is too slippery for our horses and lancers. And it can’t even be melted by visible warming and fires. Sometimes there seems to be something under the ice…” he paused to explain in words what he’d recently seen himself. It seemed to defy any explanation. Neither the sounds, nor the voices, nor the movements of the tiny bodies beneath the ice could be described in words, much less convinced that this was not nonsense, but Manfred seemed to understand and nodded.

“Go on!”

Courageously the young man took a step forward. His hands were trembling and he clasped them in front of him. Even on the battlefield, in the midst of the carnage, he did not feel as helpless as he did here. On the contrary, there he was in his place. Physical strength was all that mattered in battle, but here a single word from the king was enough to make him lose his head. Leroy had already imagined the execution order and the executioner’s axe. He decided to be honest before he died. There was nothing left to lose anyway.

“The local villagers swore they saw someone in the fields, some who were more courageous, who had been near the battlefield, swore they had observed corpses cowering or some creatures near the corpses. Of course, we executed the witnesses as looters, but the rumors didn’t stop. They say someone is knocking on peasants’ houses at night, trampling and burning crops, even eating corpses in cemeteries and battlefields. We didn’t believe it, of course, but at night when we decided to go out again we did see…” he swallowed hard, not knowing how to describe it. “It was a whole field of these creatures. There were black creatures. And they really do eat corpses.”

“Did they threaten you?” Manfred tensed.

“It was not in words,” the young man admitted honestly. He really couldn’t hear the words, only the clucking and writhing, like all his companions in general. “It wasn’t the speech either, but their looks, their movements. It was hard not to understand their intentions. They wait for us, every time we are about to approach the mountain range. They won’t let us into Menuel’s territory.”

“Can’t you fight them because of the ice?” One of the counselors grinned, but Manfred signaled him to be quiet.

“Where is the warrior who helped you to win the first victory?” He asked. “Where has he gone? Why is he not with you now, though he was at your side in the first battle? They say he never leaves those he fights for. He brings victory.”

Leroy didn’t know what to answer and nervously studied the floor with his gaze. The king was close to the truth. The first time it really was. But then they began to be haunted by bad luck. It was after the incomparable warrior disappeared.

“No one knows where he is,” the young man finally muttered, already sensing that another outburst of royal wrath was about to follow. “He disappeared just after he helped us gain the upper hand. He’s elusive. He comes and goes as he pleases. And it is impossible to find him again.”

“It is not impossible,” Manfred bellowed, and then another of his cries echoed sharply through the hall. The walls of the palace seemed to tremble. “Douglas!”

There was no need for such a cry. The young warlock, dressed as a raven in black, strode out from behind the throng.

He wanted to bow politely, but then realized that was unnecessary. Manfred was quite out of breath. He beckoned his extraordinary pet to him.

“Think of something.”

Douglas shuddered; never before had the king made such a request of him in front of witnesses. After all, everyone would have subtly realized that it was a matter of forbidden techniques, or rather of witchcraft. But now no rules of court etiquette mattered. Douglas only straightened the black lace sting that suddenly tightened around his throat like a noose, and nodded courteously. There was nothing he could do.

“Sire, I…” He did not know how to confess at once, and so he hesitated. There was something he had to explain before there could be any unnecessary misunderstanding. “Sometimes even I am powerless.”

“Are you?” Manfred glared at him in a fit of anger. “You dare to shirk your responsibilities.”

Well, now, now everyone pretended not to notice him. Who didn’t know or guess what those duties were. Douglas felt like he was in a circle of enemies. To think there were only crows around, though the only one dressed like a black raven here was him. His rivals in the dark robes of stargazers and astrologers seemed to be hiding venomous grins. Douglas looked for Conrad, the only one he could count on for support, but there was no one in the hall. Pity, he would have done anything foolish to regain his hold on Rhianon. Even defend the outcast and the magician. And getting into another argument with his father would cost him nothing at all. Then Douglas would have a chance to retreat. Now he felt hunted. No one was looking in his direction, but everyone’s exaggerated attention was focused on him. And that made him feel out of place.

He wished he could hide in his tower again, but no, the king was waiting for him to answer.

“There are some things too terrible to pay…” Douglas muttered only to say something, though in general he was not far off the truth.

It didn’t frighten the horny Manfred out of his mind.

“Call this warrior to me. Let him fight at my side again and lead my warriors.”

“But sire,” Hermion, the chief advisor, who was standing almost behind his suzerain, cautiously reminded him. “Everyone knows it cannot be done.”

“I don’t care what can’t be done,” Manfred roared. “I am King, you must obey me.”

True, it was more of an appeal to the contrary, but Douglas bowed low to testify again to his deference and obedience.

“He’s elusive, my lord,” the magician whispered. “And besides, you know… I have reason to believe he’s a lord, too. His domain is somewhat larger than Loretta’s.”

“So why is he fighting?” The king was still furious.

“Dare I remind you that he never demands a reward for his labors,” Douglas muttered.

“But he does,” Manfred clenched his fists. That already seemed sufficient reasoning for him. “He exists, and therefore he can be summoned…”

“In your armies, sire, I have it in mind,” Douglas bowed again in a courteous bow. He was about to touch the floor with his forehead. He liked that less and less.

“Perhaps he’d make a better general than that fool Moren,” the King said thoughtfully. If the appointments could be changed, he would certainly change them in favor of the former. The nameless warrior would be his emblem, his personal symbol of invincibility.

“Find him, even if it’s in hell itself,” the king shouted, letting Douglas go. “Go, I don’t care where or how you find him or how much he’s involved. Even if you have to go down into the fires of hell, you will bring me from there the one I want and persuade him to lead my troops.”

Douglas understood, so he bowed quickly and hurried out of the hall as quickly as he could. The indifferent glances that lingered on him seemed to burn his back. This is the end, he thought, all those flocks of noble and ambitious crows just waiting to slaughter the lowly self-taught wizard. Now I am a target. For too long I’ve been the king’s favorite from who knows where, and now I’ll be a willing victim. He was awakened from his gloomy thoughts by the call of birds under the arched window. They were saying something. Douglas listened. He had long ago learned to understand the language of birds, and these birds were talking as if they were doing it for him, savoring every word leisurely. Nice little birds. A novice magician would have understood them at once. They were talking about the girl with the golden hair and the embroidered purple tent. If that girl were not there now, they would not have been able to fly so close and get a good look at the handsome lord.

“What do you mean?” Douglas asked in the same way. The men in the castle would have thought he was mocking them, mimicking a bird’s croak, but the larks on the windowsills flinched, sensing the intrusion of an outsider. His accent was flawless, of course, but his angular, tall figure confused them. Just a moment and the skylarks flew noisily down, leaving Douglas with nothing. He stood at the window for a minute, bewailing himself for his cowardice. Of course, he could have talked to the feathered creatures, but what if he had been spotted by the servants in the castle. Such an interesting occupation for the young lord would have caused a lot of gossip. He had lived at court enough to know that both servants and gentlemen here are great gossipers. And he’s good, too. He’s got someone to ask him questions. They were silly birds. And yet he learned more from them than he could have hoped for.

Rhianon woke up with a feeling of vague panic. Someone’s claws were scraping across the carpet, but not the claws of the little creatures she was already used to. These were more like knives. Rhianon crouched in bed and looked around. She could see little in the darkness, but she could hear panting. Someone was climbing the fleece as hard as if they were climbing a wall, or worse, walking on hot bricks. Sniffling was mingled with whimpering as if in pain, and there was a low cry of anguish.

“It was his fault! It was his fault!”

Rhianon shuddered when her claws made contact with the soft hide of the girl’s bed. Something black, rough, like a large blob of darkness was already there. Evil yellow eyes flashed at her from the absolute darkness. The smell of burning flesh and fire reeked in her face. A clawed hand reached for her throat. She looked up and saw that her skin was burned black, the remains of flesh already slimy. Was it flesh? Do angels have flesh? Fallen ones probably do. Rhiannon remembered Madael’s story and tried to move as far away from the burnt object as possible, but there was only the tent wall and the golden pillars behind her.

“Do you know how much suffering you’ve caused us all, little angel?”

The claws were already pressing on her throat when a light suddenly cut through the darkness of the tent. She couldn’t see the scarlet curtain covering the tent open, but the candle before the door flickered on and off, revealing that her master was already here. Rhianon searched in vain for him in the darkness. In her mind she begged for help, and he must have heard. A strong arm, framed in gold bracelets, pulled the dreaded guest from her bed in a flash. There was no sound of struggle. The thing only resisted for a moment when it had already been slammed to the floor. Then there was silence.

Rhianon had to squeeze her eyes shut when the candles in the candelabra in front of her finally flashed. She squinted through her eyes as the lights flickered and she could see what looked like a gigantic, slimy, black puddle of rotting filth, beating in agony on the floor.

“It can’t stand the light. Doesn’t it?” Madael grinned cruelly, watching its torment. “Even the tiniest light at the tip of a splinter of vinegar could cause it tremendous agony. Do you know why?”

“I don’t want to know why?” Rhianon crawled away from the wall and clung to the rim of the bear’s skin. Her warmth was a little comforting.

“You want to hold a lighted candle to him and see how his pain multiplies. It will be interesting.”

He suggested it quite seriously. What was beating and wriggling at his feet was alive. She could see the frightened yellow eyes gleaming against the black shapeless blob, and the terror lingering in them. And what anger.

Madael watched the black creature’s torment with a strange satisfaction. The way boys torture a frog or a toad or a mollusk they find for fun. Rhianon had seen as a child how servants’ children picked up oysters tossed by a storm, only to mock the oysters and bring fire to them and then laugh. It was disgusting. Any violence always leads to more. But there was something different here. She felt vindictive. Madael wasn’t just mocking, he was satisfied with something.

“Stop it!” she couldn’t stand to see something so disgusting that it seemed to be spreading like poison on the carpet, and it was agonizing. She felt sick to her stomach.

“As you wish, Princess,” Madael said no more, but stared at her with long, tense eyes. And really, why on earth would he take her orders or requests. He is the victor here, not she. And yet after a moment there was not even a trace of the agonizing monster left on the carpet.

How strange. No ashes, no slime, no scratches from its claws. Rhianon was sure there must be something left.

Madael was already sitting next to her on the bed, as if nothing had happened. His gaze was calm. Beautiful thin fingers groped her skin, checking for wounds. She was used to the intricate gold patterns like tattoos clinging to the skin on his wrists, to the inky gold bracelets wrapped around his arms up to his elbows and even his forearms. It was as if he was shackled by ornate gold plates that had been exquisitely hewn from the sunlight-an exquisite chain or a reminder that he wasn’t completely free. Or maybe it was just a hint that he is part of the sun and the golden patterns on top of his shimmering body are just a reminder that despite the appearance of humanity he can burn on contact even stronger than the sunbeam. And yet the touch of his hands was soothing.

Rhianon could hardly turn away from his face to look again at the spot on the carpet where the creepy guest had recently wriggled. It was empty now.

“He was one of my cohorts,” Madael said thoughtfully. “Yes, no, more than that, my right hand. He never understood why we didn’t win, and he’s still searching for the reasons why. He’s also angry with me.”

He didn’t have to explain anything, but as always he did. Rhianon remembered her first encounter with the magic world, all the creatures she’d never believed before, the hideous dwarves and goblins and beautiful fairies, each one hiding some tiny ugliness, all telling her the same thing.

“They’re all mad at you for being beautiful, and they’re not,” Rhianon touched the disheveled wheat curls gently, checking to see if they burned her, then pulled his head toward her, and he didn’t resist, seemed glad, in fact, and she liked to study what for all the magical world was a rarity – his beautiful face, his head, his shoulders, the intricate plates of bracelets on his wrists, they were afraid of him because he burned them, but he let her be so close to him.

“I was prettier once,” he admitted through sheer force.

“That was hard to believe.”

“When the battle first started they listened to me because I was part of the sun, it burns your eyes and you can’t disobey it when you stand next to it, but then… now they hate me.”

“So what is it?” Rhianon tried to forget the way the fairies’ hands caressed her there in the forbidden palace, the way their wings gently wrapped around her waist. They were not as good as the one who had doomed them to exist and mischief in the world of mortals. Once here, they had only the entertainment of plotting against humans. At least they have some kind of freedom. Let them live as they please. Why regret them or try to please them again.

“I love you alone. Isn’t that enough?”

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. He looked at her as if he had never seen her before, and yet he knew that no one had ever told him or wanted to hear her say it. He was used to the fact that he had to be alone. Perhaps God condemns to loneliness all those who were too close to him, because since he himself cannot get what he wants, no one else should either. But now it turned out differently than he had decreed.

“You are all I have.”

Madael pulled her to him, into an embrace like the coolness of water. You feel the same way when you dive into a clear pond where lilies grow and fragrant. And you can drown there, but as long as you stay on the water it feels so good. Sometimes his body exuded almost no heat, and sometimes it was like a red-hot ball of fire. Everything depended on the slightest change in his feelings. Now he was calm and even seemed happy.

“I promise that no uninvited guest will ever come in here again. No one will disturb you unless you want them to. Do you remember how to summon my servants?”

She remembered to clap her hands to make food appear on the table by itself and the things she needed materialize out of thin air. She remembered how to extinguish candles and call black winged creatures into the circle of light. With certain gestures or movements she could invite anyone whose master was him, sometimes she did it by accident, but now he was not against having his servants serve her as well. All of them, though frightening at first, were easily obeyed when they learned that she was here at their lord’s behest. She only wanted to ask how to summon him herself.

What if it could not be done, for he could not in the heat of battle drop everything and rush to her. Though she had no doubt that was exactly what he would do. He would just abandon the battle to his fate and end up here.

The embrace grew tighter. Rhianon remembered the destructive embrace of the forest springs, when nymphs, naiads, and mermaids summon lost mortals who have taken a fancy to them. They were amorous and would easily lure into the bowl whoever they wanted to caress. She, too, was initially lured, led astray, and all in order to offer her one beautiful unearthly embrace. Even though it all leads to the same fatal outcome as in the stories of maids of honor, it felt so good to her now. She had always dreamed of that.

“Madael, I love you,” whispered she

He did not laugh, though it was funny. Who could love such a cursed and forsaken creature as he was? His lips opened slightly, but he answered nothing. Everything he wanted to say, she felt as it were, all his love unsolicited and unnatural. He embraced her with his arm and wings, he was more beautiful than anything and everyone on earth, his body glowing peacefully with a golden-white ghostly glow, while inside everything was tense with rebellious conflicting feelings. There was no peace in him, he preferred war, but now…

“I will fight anyone and anything for you,” he promised. “I can fight, Rhianon, I know how to fight. I know how to win.”

“How it is in heaven, then?” She wished she hadn’t said that; it hurt him instantly, and it was transmitted to her. He gripped the hilt of the cleaver so tightly that his fingers, so long they curled almost twice around the hilt, turned white.

“That was a long time ago, but it was,” he reminded himself firmly. “Nothing can be changed.”

“You could have kept things in balance.”

“I don’t want any more,” he suddenly relaxed, tense as a string, he made up his mind and his skin glowed even brighter.

“What do you want?”

“I want you, princess, if peace must be made, then both sides must get something out of it, I don’t need forgiveness anymore, I will ask you.”

“What is it for?” She asked seriously. Why indeed, for there is no human desire in him. Why does he suddenly need her so much?

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. And it sounded like a divine revelation, something like the fact that an angel cannot comprehend the nature of himself.

Madael frowned thoughtfully, as if he had something else to say, but didn’t know how to put it into words.

“No one ever loved me,” he finally admitted. “And I was considered a favorite of God, but there was no affection, no warmth, only honor and a lack of something I needed. I didn’t know what it was, but I lacked it so much that everything became a torment.”

He ran his fingers lower on her shoulder, making sure he didn’t accidentally forget and squeeze the fragile neck.

“It is better to be unnoticed by a god than to be his favorite, because he condemns his lovers to suffering.”

She remembered everything that had happened to her and barely nodded, he was right, the suffering was overwhelming. And there was always one question why. Why did she always endure where others won? If all the trouble poured out on her was a manifestation of being chosen and of heavenly love, then she would have preferred to do without both. But not without what was happening now. That was exactly what she was not supposed to do, but it could be gladly accepted. Sin was a beautiful thing and so sublime. But she couldn’t call it sin. Only hypocrites would call it that. Rhianon gripped her arm around his waist, pulling him tighter against her shoulder. The wing behind him trembled slightly, but it felt good to lean her back against it. It was feathery and mighty to the touch, softer than the hides that lined the floor of the tent.

“What do you mean?” She asked. She’d learned the truth about him, but not about herself. She could never boast that she had the right to consider herself the favorite of the Almighty. On the contrary, God must have hated her very much, for he had taken from her everything she valued. Of course, there was also the dream of heaven… of being expected there. Rhiannon remembered the long staircase, infinitely high, but she didn’t want to think about it now.

“You were God’s favorite, I was not, and all those who went with you, whom he also loved…”

“Come,” Madael stood up abruptly and held out his hand to her. “I will show you what has become of them.”

There was before them a gloomy valley, so black that everything around it was drowned in darkness. At first it was impossible to see even the hideous bodies cowering below. They intertwined and moved in a strange cacophony of sounds and rustles. Beyond the valley rose mountains that encircled the place as if in a ring. And stone blocks awkwardly piled somewhere in the distance staggered with their grandiosity. Neither man nor nature could have created something like that. And all this just beneath the starry skies that had once been the home of those who now swarmed in the valley, like the trough left behind by the fall.

Rhianon looked around and shuddered. Her eyes were beginning to see unnaturally well in the dark. Her companion must have been a gift from her super-sharp perception of her surroundings and her keen eyesight. He could imbue mortals with unusual qualities. And he was so close to her that it seemed that his very power had begun to be transmitted to her as well. But now she was more concerned with what was going on below. There was a sudden movement, a shrill sound, and then… Rhianon shuddered as the sound of a hellish scream echoed through the valley. Even the mountains in the distance seemed to tremble. And that scream was not the only one. The moon rose, casting scant light on the gloomy expanse, and soon hundreds, thousands of them were screaming. One would have thought that every yard of ground beneath them was living, agonizing and screaming.