Between Heaven and Hell Read online

  Lucifer had confided to Adryel that he’d allowed the merchants and traders to pass through their lines for another reason as well. He believed they would carry tales to the inhabitants of the city, describing the massive army that was preparing to descend on them, the fierce soldiers who would soon stream across their walls, and the destruction they would wreak. He’d anticipated that the population of the city would panic and demand a peaceful resolution.

  Perhaps tonight.

  It was Adryel’s second journey into the city in as many days. She had not enjoyed this trip as well as she had her first. She had been banished, and Beliel was known as one of Lucifer’s aides—had either been seen entering the city, they would have been detained as Lucifer’s agents. They might even have been imprisoned as spies. As a result, rather than arriving on horseback, as she had the day before, she had been smuggled past the guards, hidden under a small pile of cabbages in the back of a wagon as it jostled along, unable to avoid the huge rocks and the too-frequent pot holes that lay in the dirt road.

  Once inside, the wagons stopped in a secluded spot near the market. As she climbed out of the wagon, Adryel gingerly rubbed her side where a particularly violent bump had left a tender bruise, jerking her hand away when she reached an especially sensitive spot. Such was the price she paid. Still, it was an easier cost to bear than that of Beliel.

  Since the pile of cabbages had been too small to cover both Adryel and Beliel—the others were unknown to the guards and could ride freely—Beliel was forced to hide in one of the other wagons, which carried loads of fertilizer. He had been outraged, having no choice but to climb aboard.

  Adryel chuckled now as she watched him dig his way out of the still-damp manure, snorting and spitting to clear his nose and throat, the cloak he had covered himself with having done little to shelter him. Even though he practically stripped himself as he shook the manure out of his clothes, he still smelled awful. The Institute, now closed, was their immediate destination and, if for her own sake and those traveling with them, Adryel hoped Beliel could find a change of clothes, perhaps something that had been forgotten in one of the dormitories.

  Each of the rebels donned a deep purple-colored cloak. Since the color was not commonly worn in the city, it served to identify them as anchorites—angels who spent their time in prayer and meditation. As an added bonus, Beliel’s also served to delay the wafting odor of manure. The hoods would partially hide their faces, and, since anchorites took vows of silence, they could rightfully refuse to speak, even if a guard found a reason to interrogate them.

  “Everyone stay together now.” Adryel glanced around, counting to make sure everyone was present. She and Beliel were the only ones who knew their way around the city. “Beliel and I will guide you to the Institute. It’s not far, but we must be careful. We’ll split into two groups. I’ll take the first, and Beliel’s will follow.”

  The most direct route to the Institute ran through Palace Square. Adryel had decided that the danger of being recognized by someone after dark in the square was less than that of encountering a friend or acquaintance while she wandered through the city on a longer track.

  “Stay in your group. Don’t run, but keep moving. If you are questioned, do not speak. You are simply an anchorite, and you’re on your way home. . .Questions?” She glanced at Beliel. “Got it? Hang back about a block so we attract less attention.”

  She pulled her hood close to her face and they set out.

  As they reached the square, Adryel recognized Dariel as one of two guards patrolling the perimeter. She had not expected to see guards until they passed the palace entrance, and they should have been standing at the doors, not in the square.

  And why was Dariel on patrol? Was he not Michael’s new lieutenant, having taken Ramael’s position? Adryel’s eyes began to tear as she thought of Ramael, but she wiped them hastily away. It didn’t matter why Dariel was patrolling the square. He would be dead before morning.

  She stared straight ahead as she passed the two guards, but from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a flicker of recognition cross Dariel’s face. He raised his hand as if greeting her or, more likely, halting her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Michael interrupted him, beckoning Dariel from the Grand Stairway.

  She tucked a stray lock of hair under her hood and ducked her head, but she did not break her stride. Then, as Dariel turned away, Adryel picked up her pace, heading toward the exit, and fretting that Dariel had indeed recognized her and was, at that very moment, identifying her to Michael.

  As she scurried along, Adryel silently chastised herself. She should have walked in the middle of the group, rather than leading the way across the square. She should have taken the longer route. She should have been more careful. . .

  Her group reached the corner, dashed into the shadows, and Adryel finally stopped to look back. Dariel was motioning in her direction, but, as Michael nodded and walked away, she took a deep breath. If Dariel had told Michael he had just seen her, guards would have been dispatched to bring her in, and none were heading in her direction.

  “That was close,” she whispered to herself.

  She resumed leading her group through the city, approaching the Institute. As she reached the corner, a block away, she stared down at the street. She was standing in the spot where Ramael had died, about to step over the gutter where Michael had thrown him.

  Where Michael had discarded him, she reminded herself.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she crossed her arms tightly across her chest as she imagined Ramael lying beside the road, alone, friendless, his life draining from his body. Had he known it was her rock that had struck the blow to his head? He would have felt betrayed. He must have been in pain. Surely, he had been afraid.

  She crossed the street and stood where Mia had said she had been when she saw Ramael die, imagining the sight Mia had seen, imagining what she, Adryel, would have done had she been in Mia’s place. Would she have acted differently? Would she have tried to save Ramael, or, having been the one to cast the brick, would she have simply watched it take place, as Mia had?

  “No,” she whispered, not wanting the others to hear, “I should have been with him. Michael would not have cast him aside, he would not have died alone, if I had been here.”

  Adryel inhaled deeply, shaking her head. She no longer blamed herself for Ramael’s death. She had acted impulsively and out of anger, yes, but Michael, he was responsible for killing Ramael. She had merely given him the opportunity, something she was convinced Michael would have found at some other point.

  Fury and hatred coursed through her veins. Adryel vowed to make certain Lord Lucifer honored his promise and allowed her to be the one to dispatch Michael.

  “We need to move on.” Beliel and his group had caught up with hers. “We need to get under cover.”

  Adryel wiped her hand across her eyes, but Beliel had noticed her tears.

  He smirked. “Is this the spot? Is this where he bit the dust?”

  How dare he?

  She wheeled around, pulling a long knife from beneath her robe. “Speak again and I’ll slit your throat.”

  Beliel hesitated, then he stepped back, and Adryel stalked away.

  As they reached the Institute, they found the gates had been sealed, as she had expected. That was good. They needed a place to hide, and if the entrance was barred, it was less likely they would find anyone inside.

  Adryel knew of an alternate entrance from a narrow alley that ran beside the wall. She and her friends had used it to leave the school and return after hours when she had been a student.

  A teahouse was located across the alley, and generations of students had met there to discuss and to debate, to make friends and to flirt. She and Ramael had spent many evenings there. Tonight, loud music poured through the building’s open door and voices were raised in an argument.

  She smiled. Some things never changed.

  She slipped between the wall and the teahouse,
motioning for the others to follow. Little light penetrated the alley, and Adryel ran her hand along the wall, searching for the door, jerking it back, grimacing at the slime that coated the stones. She wiped her fingers on her robe and continued to creep along the passage, checking every meter for the opening.

  “Quiet,” she hissed when one angel yelped as some creature dashed across his foot. She looked down and could just discern the outline of a mouse as it scurried through the alley.

  “Afraid of a mouse,” she mumbled. “And he’s one of the very best Beliel could find. Bah.”

  After about ten meters she felt the door’s frame, and then a tender part of her hand smacked against the handle. “Ow!” She quickly covered her mouth. She’d never known the door to be locked, and as she shoved her shoulder against it, the hinges groaned, then squealed, and then cracked open. She shoved again and again and, finally, she had just enough space to slip through into a small room at the bottom of the northeast tower.

  Adryel peered out into the quadrangle. The windows in the classroom building and the dormitories were blank, like eyes with no life in them. She detected no light, no movement. The blankets on which the students had slept the night of the attack still lay scattered around the fire pit. The school seemed undisturbed, as if the soldiers had loaded their prisoners into the carts, trundled them away, and simply locked the door as the last one pulled through the gate.

  ***

  Lucifer huddled by the fire outside of his tent. The army was camped around him, and the soldiers were preparing their evening meals as the light faded.

  They would attack in a few hours. His agents in the city had sent word that Adryel, Beliel, and the others were safely inside the walls. Lucifer chuckled. He had allowed three other caravans loaded with food and other necessities to pass during his march toward the city, not counting two that had passed his army at the base of the mountains. He had even sent one of them himself. As a result, today’s wagons would have aroused no suspicion.

  Michael was so careless. Since the students had been expelled, he’d made no attempt to monitor those who came and went. It almost seemed as if he believed Lucifer would simply disappear, never to be seen again—as if that would ever happen. But, thanks to Michael’s negligence, it had been child’s play for the group to ride undetected past the guards this afternoon.

  Adryel’s group of ten was not tasked with seizing full control of the entrance. A company of Lucifer’s soldiers would approach after dark. Shortly after midnight, Adryel would open the gates, and, once ajar, the soldiers would charge in and take control. The entire army would pour in behind them. If things went well, the city would be theirs by dawn.

  He sipped his ale and stared into the fire. . .something was not right. He listened quietly, but he heard nothing unusual. He looked around him, but night had arrived, and he could not see past the last campfire. He paced to the end of his tent and back. Something was definitely wrong. He could feel it. Even in the darkness.

  Lucifer’s head snapped up.

  Yes. It was too dark.

  He stared across the plain for several moments before realizing he could not see the city. Normally, it overflowed with light—lanterns in the great tower, candles in the windows of each house, torches at each station along the wall, fires on every hearth. The lights would mingle and blend, and Celestial City would glow, a golden radiance visible two days’ journey across the plain. It had been so just a few minutes earlier.

  Now, all light seemed to have been doused. Beyond the fires of the soldiers, the world was black. But why? Lucifer had seldom before known an absence of light, and it made him uneasy.

  He had counted on the city’s lights, especially those from the palace. Each evening, three hours before midnight, the lights in the Great Tower were extinguished in a ceremony that could be seen for miles across the plain. A guard would march from window to window, opening each lantern and placing his bell-shaped snuffer over the candle inside, commencing on the north side and advancing to the right. The lights would disappear floor by floor, beginning at the pinnacle and moving toward the ground. It took half an hour to darken each level, and, with six floors, the last candle would be extinguished near midnight. His army was set to move out when the first lights were snuffed.

  Even though Michael knew they were nearby—they weren’t hiding, after all—he couldn’t know that the lights in the palace were to signal Lucifer’s attack. Perhaps he simply thought darkness would deter him from striking. If so, he was very wrong.

  Lucifer returned to his tent and rummaged through a sack he had tossed into a corner. After searching for several moments, he withdrew a coil of rope. The fibers had been soaked in a solution that retarded fire. If he lit the end, it would smolder, and only about a foot would burn in an hour’s time, a rudimentary clock. He held the rope against his arm. It was a bit shorter than he needed. It should burn about two hours, not quite right, but close enough.

  Lucifer stuck the end of the rope into the fire. It flared, then the flames died, leaving the tip glowing in the dark. He called Ami and Mia, poured goblets of ale, and the three of them sat down to wait.

  After a short while, Ami and Mia drifted off to sleep, but Lucifer kept watch. As the fire consumed the last of the rope, he stood and paced off twenty steps, turned, and came back to his tent. He knew it was not quite time, but better that his soldiers arrive early rather than late.

  Lucifer made the announcement. “Douse the fires.” He stuck the torch he was holding into a pail of water, and with a hiss the fire died away. “We’re moving out.”

  Maliel approached as the army prepared to depart.

  “Lord Lucifer, what are your orders for battle?”

  A smile played around Lucifer’s lips.

  “Give no quarter. Kill them. Kill them all.”

  ***

  Michael stood on the city wall directly above the gate. Spread before him on the dark plain were the campfires of Lucifer’s army. Only a thousand strong, he reminded himself, many of them schoolboys on a great adventure. He shook his head. Such a waste.

  As he thought of the battle that would come, of the senseless carnage that would result, he caught the sound of the gates as they opened. The hinges had been well oiled earlier in the day, so the noise was muffled. Even if the rebels had scouts in front of their lines, they would miss the sound. Looking down, he could just make out the dim outlines of his soldiers as Dariel led his legion toward the east. The group moved silently, picking their way carefully though the darkness so the rebels were not alerted. When they had all departed, Keruel would take his soldiers to the west. Finally, once they were set, Gadriel’s troops would take their position between the city and Lucifer’s soldiers.

  Ramael had wanted to command the troops tonight and to lead the first legion into battle against the rebels. He had healed from his wound and he had returned to service, but Michael thought it unwise to place him in a position in which he might encounter Adryel. Rumor held that she had been the one to target him, aiming her brick while his head was turned. Ramael was a power, after all. Michael feared that a conflict between Ramael’s feelings of love for his pair and a need for retribution would cloud his judgment should they meet on the field of battle.

  Moreover, regardless of what Adryel had or had not done, Ramael blamed Lucifer for losing her, and Michael feared Ramael would risk his own life needlessly, allowing nothing, not even an entire army, to prevent him from seeking out Lucifer and destroying him.

  Michael shook his head as he thought about Adryel.

  He could not imagine what had happened to her. Lucifer had left her in command when he had fled the Institute, and Michael believed her now to be one of his chief aides. During the beginning of her audience with Adonai, she appeared to be properly in awe of him, but Michael had sensed a change. He was not quite certain what was different, the way she walked perhaps, the tone in her voice, especially when she had called him a liar, maybe the expression on her face.

&n
bsp; He nodded. Her face. That was what he had noticed. She had been quite beautiful as she had walked across Adonai’s throne room, but her once lively, deep blue eyes had faded to almost white, with only a tinge of color remaining—they appeared empty, vacant, lifeless. The eyes of one who no longer cared.

  Michael shivered. Such creatures were among the most dangerous—more treacherous than those who truly believed in a cause. For true believers, the cause was more important than anything else, and they wanted to live, to carry on their struggle, sacrificing their lives only as a last resort. Creatures such as Adryel had no such belief, no hope, no love, no reason to exist. They cared not whether they lived or died, and would fight to the death without a second thought or a single regret.

  Michael gazed into the distance at the fires around which Lucifer’s army camped. The distance could be covered by soldiers in two hours with a forced march, three at a standard pace.

  He failed to understand Lucifer. How could he imagine his ragtag band of students could possibly overcome the army of heaven? Could he be planning to lay siege to the city with the illusion that the army would simply hide behind the walls and wait for an attack? Not likely. If that was his plan, why would he have allowed caravans to cross the northern plain, bringing supplies? One had entered just this very afternoon, in fact.

  Michael knew Lucifer had sympathizers in the city—he’d been surprised when bystanders had pelted his soldiers with garbage the day they had expelled the rebels from the city. One of the wagons had almost been overturned and the prisoners freed. While some of Lucifer’s followers had left the city after that—Michael knew of ten by name—not many had gone. He assumed Lucifer was in contact with his supporters, and he suspected they planned to open the north gate for Lucifer’s army. Michael had doubled the guard, just in case, and had ordered that all the lights in the city be extinguished shortly after dark, so that the city and its walls were less visible from the plain than they normally would have been.