An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (58 page)

“No, no, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just that, well, I need to verify this. Loma? Go ahead and disturb …”

Jeremiel kicked out with lightening speed, boots slamming the captain in the chest and hurling him to the wall. The blond private swung around, aiming at Jeremiel’s head, finger tightening on the trigger. A shrill whine rent the air and a violet bolt of light slashed across the private’s abdomen, then shifted to lance the sergeant’s chest.

Yosef stumbled backward, hot blood spattering him. Horror flooded his veins. He saw Ari trot down the hall, pistol held tightly in both hands, pointed at the captain, who now stood with his hands up, whimpering.

“Don’t kill me, please, I’ve got a family, a little boy!”

“Shut up!” Jeremiel commanded. Leaping over the mangled sergeant, he tore the pistol from his still warm hand. Spinning on his heel, he leveled it at the captain.

Yosef screamed, “NO!” as the shot went off, taking the man square in the chest, exploding his body and sending fragments to slam the walls.

Yosef wailed in horror. A hundred years from now in his grave, he knew he’d still hear that arrhythmic thudding of flesh against cold stone. He stared uncomprehendingly at Jeremiel. “How could you … he was … a good—good—”

“Stop it, Yosef. We haven’t time. Did you want someone alive who could tell Ornias
you
helped me escape? This way your cover’s intact, you can keep operating here.”

“I—I don’t want to. I can’t bear—”

“Yosef,” Ari said soothingly, running to his side and slipping a lanky arm over his shoulders. “Come on. We’ll talk about it later. Right now, we have to get away. Lean on me. I’ll help you.”

Yosef braced his shoulder against Ari’s side, listening only vaguely as his friend gave Jeremiel instructions: “Hurry! Straight ahead, then take a left down those stairs. There’s a secret entryway behind the statue of Archangel Michael wielding his sword.”

Jeremiel sprinted silently forward, gun sweeping the darkness. He disappeared around the corner.

“Yosef,” Ari whispered tenderly, supporting him as they marched. “There was nothing else to be done. It’s not your fault.”

“But I—I lied to—get the—the captain to let me—”

“That doesn’t make it your fault. Jeremiel and I pulled the triggers—and for good reasons, to protect all Gamants. Sometimes terrible choices have to be made.”

Yosef nodded, but in his mind, he saw again the captain’s smile when he told him he was one of the Mashiah’s favorites. A good man. A man with a family. A little boy. Dead.

His stomach heaved suddenly and he pushed out from beneath Ari’s arm to vomit on the floor.

CHAPTER 35

Mikael huddled in the corner, heart pounding. His mother and Uncle Mark shouted at each other by the door. They’d been fighting for hours. It had begun right after dinner when his uncle had rushed in and started whispering in a strained voice. In the firelight cast by the roaring hearth, his face still twisted with anger and fear. Mikael glanced at his mother. Her tan robe was wet beneath the arms and around her throat.

“Damn it, Sarah!” his uncle yelled. “They’ve tricked you! This diplomatic bantering has all been a stall until they could get Bogomil here!”

“We can’t just go in and blast their main base, Mark. For God’s sake,
think!
If their minds are wavering at all, such action will leave them no choice.”

Mikael’s knees shook so badly he had to brace his back against the cold wall to keep himself standing.
No choice about what? Killing them?

His uncle made a strangled sound and slammed a fist repeatedly into the wall. “Sarah,
please.’
Don’t force me to defy you. That will split the people in two! And we need unity now if we’re going to survive.”

“Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I’ve been talking to Silbersay, trying to keep the lid on.”

“The man is lying to you, and you can’t see it!” He pointed a finger threateningly. “Why do you think Bogomil is here,
huh?
For a pleasant chat about the weather on Kayan?
Silbersay called him in!”

Sarah ran her sweating hands over her robe. “The fact is, we don’t know why he’s here. Give me another day, Mark. Let me go in and ask Silbersay.”

Uncle Mark straightened, taking a deep breath. Mikael saw his black beard vibrate as he ground his teeth. “All right, Sarah. Another day, but that’s it.
You hear me?
After that, I’m going to take control and join our forces with the rebels in the desert. By God, we’ll make them regret that they ever set foot on Kayan!”

“You’d go behind my back? You’d circumvent Gamant tradition?”

“To keep us alive? Hell, yes!”

Her voice quaked. “You and your kind will be the death of us, Mark.”

“Maybe. But we won’t walk into their arms like sheep the way you want us to. We’ll die fighting.
Your father fought, Sarah! Why in hell won’t you?”
He whirled and stamped away.

Mikael blinked back the tears that stung his eyes. His mother clenched her fists and bowed her head.

“Mama,” he said softly. “Mama, don’t cry.”

“Go to your room, Mikael.”

A log broke in the fire behind him. The resulting flash cast his shadow in multiple images on the far wall. “Mama? Let’s fight like Uncle Mark says. You and me. Together, we could lead another Gamant Revolt and kill all the Magistrates. Then we wouldn’t have to worry anymore that they’ll come and hurt us for no reason.”

“
I said go to your room!”

His mouth quivered as tears filled his eyes. He ran with all his might, racing across the cave and down the hall for his room. Throwing himself on his bed, he pulled the pillow over his face to smother the sound of his sobs.

If he just had a
Mea,
he could go to God and ask Him what to do. Someday … someday, he would. And then God would give him ships out of whirlwind, like He’d done Jekutiel. And Mikael would kill everyone who’d ever hurt his mother.

Adom woke suddenly in the middle of the night. Rachel stretched softly across his arm, her hair spilling like a raven veil over the satin sheets. Moonlight flooded the room, glowing brilliantly in the frescoed dome where Milcom soared through the stars.

Why had he awakened? Yawning, his gaze drifted over the coral arches, bookcase, chairs, table. Through the open windows, he saw the mountain peaks silhouetted darkly against the silvered sky. His gaze returned to Rachel and his heart wanned. Lying on her stomach, the olive skin of her back gleamed, exposed to her hips. Deep emotions stirred within him. Ornias had called his feelings “puerile infatuation.” Were they? He didn’t know; nor did he care. The only thing that mattered was that she seemed to share them and his joy threatened to burst his soul. He reached out, raising a lock of her hair and drawing it across his face in a glistening web, inhaling the subtle floral scent. Her gentle hands had set his body afire earlier. He had the urge now to wake her and begin it all again, but she seemed to be sleeping so soundly.

Before he could decide, a hiss sounded and he turned back to the window. A black whirling vortex blotted the moon. He tensed, realizing that he’d undoubtedly awakened because Milcom had called. He gently eased his arm from beneath Rachel and sat up, tugging the sheet over his nakedness.

In a moment, Milcom stepped through and the dark whirlwind vanished. He stood regally, crystalline body shimmering wildly. Throwing back the ebony hood of his cloak, he strode forward. Adom started to rise, to dress, so they could speak.

“No, don’t get up, Adom. This won’t take long.”

“What is it, Lord?” he whispered, not wanting to wake Rachel.

“Just a moment,” Milcom murmured, lifting a hand toward Rachel and slowly closing his fingers on air. “There, she won’t awaken. We can speak normally.”

God put a hand on his hip and paced before the windows. “The polar chambers, I need you to go there as soon as possible. Can you do that?”

“Yes. I don’t know if they’ve been readied completely, but we can go anyway.”

“Good. Make sure the chambers have a graphics capability. The people in Seir must be able to see you while you’re gone.”

“To bolster their courage during the battle, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“So the Desert Fathers are going to attack,” he said softly, casting a sideways glance at Rachel. “Lord, Ornias said Rachel was their tool. Can you tell me—”

“Don’t listen to Ornias,” Milcom sighed deeply, rubbing his amber brow. “He’s an idiot.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“But you need reassurance, don’t you? Well, I should have shown you before.” God strode briskly to the opposite side of the bed where Rachel lay and with a feathery touch, brushed back the hair covering her brow. “Come and look, Adom.”

He quietly eased over to peer at the place Milcom indicated. In the glistening light cast by God’s body, Adom read the letters AKT on her brow and his mouth gaped. “Lord, I—I thought I was the only one who—”

“You two, you’re the only people in this universe with my seal.”

Confusion and rapture struck Adom at once. “Then Rachel and I are meant to be together?”

“Fated since the beginning of time,” Milcom said tiredly. He stared out across the rocky ridges for a time before continuing. “You and Rachel, without you, I’d never be able to end the suffering here.”

“Then she believes? I wasn’t sure.”

“Not yet. Right now she’s working very hard to convince herself Epagael doesn’t exist at all. In a few days, however, I’m betting she’ll be convinced not only that He exists, but that He’s the monster she’s suspected these past few weeks.” In a reverent gesture, he reached inside his cloak and pulled out a brilliantly gleaming
Mea.
Adom stared in awe, he didn’t know Milcom owned one. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to do this for a week, but just haven’t gotten around to it. I mistakenly thought He might call me to talk.” Pain etched his deep voice. “But now I know He’ll never call again. So … I don’t need this anymore.” In a violent motion, he ripped the
Mea
from around his neck and went to kneel beside Rachel, gently lifting her head to remove the one he’d given her earlier and draping his own around her throat. “There,” he whispered warmly, intimately to her, “a direct route. Now you won’t have to go through the seven heavens. Though Epagael would have passed you anyway—
knowing who you are.”

“Does he know her?”

“Oh, yes. He’s known since the day I erected the Veil. I told Him all the major events I could foresee—even chaos has decipherable patterns. I’d hoped He’d end the game after He knew the wretchedness ahead.”

“But He refused. That’s why we suffer.”

Milcom nodded slowly. “Yes and now He thinks by playing with the
Reshimu
He can stop me. He doesn’t realize His actions advance my cause. The increase in suffering is throwing species who were formerly indifferent over to my side.”

Adom perked up, remembering that Rachel had asked about the
Reshimu.
“What is that, Lord? The
Reshimu?”

“It’s the faint remnant of His effulgence—gone wild now, spinning in infinite chaos.”

“But,” Adom murmured, struggling with the logic. “How can He play with it if it’s in our universe? I thought He couldn’t enter into this realm?”

Restrained emotion glazed Milcom’s face. “He doesn’t have to enter to send the
Reshimu
into convulsions. He merely has to change the shape of the container, flex His muscles around the perimeter of the Void. Like a tidal wave, the warping sends galaxies crashing into each other—rips the fabric of space and spawns myriad singularities. Whole universes have been swallowed into others, thrown through the gaping holes breached around them.” He put hands over his ears, face contorting in agony. “I hear the screams of billions dying even now.”

Adom winced, eyes glued to God’s anguished features. He’d never seen Milcom so distraught. Fear soured in his stomach. “Can Epagael stop you that way? By changing the shape—”

“Not if we act quickly. But given time, He could merge all the matter and antimatter universes—cleansing the Void without ever having to face the terrors within. In the blink of an eye, He could start it all over again.”

“What can Rachel and I do to help?”

“Just get to the polar chambers as quickly as you can.”

“Yes, Lord.”

Milcom hesitated, eyes going minutely over Adorn, as though trying to fix his features in his memory. A pitiable expression of grief creased his amber face. “Adom,” he said in soft anguish. “Forgive me for what I must do in the days ahead. But nothing—
no one
—is sacred in this battle. Do you understand? The goal we strive for supersedes all other things.”

“Of course, Lord. I’ve always known that when the final battle between you and Epagael began, suffering would seem to increase for a time. Don’t worry. I trust you completely. I …” He halted when God’s crystalline face contorted. What had he said that caused such pain? …Trust? A tendril of apprehension wound through his chest. “Lord?”

“What is it?”

“I’m afraid.”