Descent of Angels (10 page)

The Lion and Luther seemed obvious candidates, but then he remembered something Brother Amadis had once said, and the answer was clear to him.

‘It is the masters of instruction, men like Master Ramiel, who keep the customs of the Order alive,’ he said.

‘Good,’ said Lord Cypher. ‘Where then does my power lie?’

‘That you are close to the Order’s senior masters?’ suggested Zahariel, as he came to a halt before Lord Cypher. ‘Your opinions can always find an ear among those in power.’

‘Very good,’ said Lord Cypher, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood. ‘You kept your answers short and that is good. You’d be surprised how many candidates witter on incessantly during this walk of the spiral.’

‘Nervousness, I suppose,’ said Zahariel.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Lord Cypher, ‘it makes men talk too much, when it would be more impressive if they knew the value of silence and demonstrated how to use it. Your terseness gave you an aura of confidence, even when I know you did not feel it.’

That was certainly true, for Zahariel had felt his heart drumming wildly in his chest all through the walk, terrified of making a mistake, terrified he might stumble and fail in this test. Either his terror had not shown or the Lord Cypher’s poor eyesight had caused him to miss it. Whatever the truth, Zahariel accepted the old man’s compliment in the spirit it was offered.

‘Thank you, Lord Cypher,’ he said, bowing slightly. ‘If I was confident, though, it is because I have been well-trained by my master.’

‘Yes, you are one of Master Ramiel’s students. That explains it. Ramiel has always been known for his good work. Did you know he trained under Master Sarientus, the same man who trained both Lion El’Jonson and Luther?’

‘No, my lord, I did not know that.’

‘Tradition, boy, learn it. Know it and understand it. Without it we are nothing.’

‘I will, my lord,’ promised Zahariel.

‘Maybe you will, but I see that you still have questions, eh?’

‘I suppose,’ admitted Zahariel, unsure as to whether he should voice such doubts. ‘I don’t quite understand what I have achieved by walking this spiral and answering your questions.’

‘For yourself, nothing,’ said Lord Cypher, ‘but we know more of you now. At each stage of a supplicant’s training we must decide whether or not to continue it and whether any such trainees have the mark of greatness that merits special attention.’

‘Do I merit such attention?’

Lord Cypher laughed. ‘That is not for me to say, boy. Another will decide that.’

‘Who?’ asked Zahariel, suddenly bold.

‘Me,’ said a rich, heavily toned voice of strength and power from the shadows.

Zahariel turned as a giant in a hooded white surplice stepped into the light of the candles, though he would have sworn that no figure had been standing there a moment ago.

The figure pulled back his hood, but Zahariel needed no further confirmation of the man’s identity. ‘My lord,’ he said. ‘Follow me,’ said Lion El’Jonson.

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YPHER RETREATED
into the shadows as the Lion marched around the circumference of the chamber. Brother Amadis bowed his head as the mighty warrior passed him, and Zahariel was seized by sudden indecision.

After Lord Cypher’s monologue on the value of tradition, should he walk the path of the spiral in reverse or should he simply follow the Lion?

The decision was made for him when Brother Amadis said, ‘Best be quick, Zahariel. The Lion doesn’t like to be kept waiting on nights like this.’

‘Nights like what?’ asked Zahariel as he made his way after the Lion.

‘Nights where there are revelations to be made,’ said Amadis.

Unsure of what that meant, Zahariel moved past Amadis and hurried to catch up with the Lion, who appeared to be retracing the steps they had taken to reach this place. The Lion did not speak, but followed an unerring path upwards, along smoothly chiselled passageways, rough caverns and winding stairs hacked into the rock. Each step took them higher and higher, and where Brother Amadis had led him into the depths, it seemed the Lion was leading him into the heavens.

Zahariel’s breath heaved in his lungs, his legs tired after such climbing, though of course the Lion’s stride never faltered or changed in pace, despite the length and speed of their climb.

Their climb led them into a narrow cylinder of curved bricks, within which was a tightly wound screw staircase that was barely wide enough for the Lion’s shoulders.

After another ten minutes, Zahariel could feel a chill breeze from above, and scented the fragrant aroma of the deep forests. He knew they must be close to the top of the tower. Ghostly moonlight grew in luminosity, and at last, worn by the journey, Zahariel emerged onto the top of the tower, a wide space high above the fortress monastery, ringed with regular crenellations along the parapet.

The tower was quite useless for defence, too slender and tall to play a part in any siege the Order might find itself subject to, but ideal for an eagle-eyed watchman or stargazer.

It was a clear night. The sky above Zahariel was a black, perfect dome studded with a thousand points of light. Zahariel stared up at the constellations and felt a deep, abiding sensation of peace that quite overcame his exhaustion.

He supposed it was a feeling born of satisfaction. For many years he had exerted every ounce of his will and strained every sinew in the hope of becoming a knight. Tonight, he could be one step closer to achieving his ambition.

‘It is good to look up at the stars,’ said the Lion, finally breaking his long silence. ‘At times like this, a man needs to take stock of his life. I find there is no better place to take stock than beneath the stars.’

The Lion smiled, and Zahariel found the smile dazzling.

It was clear that the Lion was trying to put him at his ease, but Zahariel found it almost impossible to talk to him as though he was any other man. Jonson was too big, his presence too imposing.

A man could no more ignore his extraordinary nature than he could ignore the wind and the rain, or the transition from day to night. There was something similarly elemental about the Lion.

Lion El’Jonson was the apotheosis of all humanity’s dreams for itself. He was perfection given human form, like the first example of a new race of man.

‘The cleansing of the forest is entering its final stage, Zahariel. Did you know that?’

‘No, my lord, I had thought the campaign was likely to continue for some time.’

‘No, not at all,’ said the Lion, his brow furrowing slightly, though Zahariel could not be sure if it was in amusement or contemplation. ‘According to our best estimates, there are perhaps a dozen or so great beasts left in total, certainly no more than twenty, and they are all in the Northwilds. We have scoured every other region of Caliban and cleared out the beasts that were hiding there. Only the Northwilds are left.’

‘But that would mean the campaign is nearly over.’

‘Nearly,’ Jonson said. ‘At most it should take another three months. Then Caliban will finally be clear of the great beasts. Incidentally, you realise Amadis has asked that you be recorded in the annals of the Order as having assisted in slaying one of the last of them? A fearsome creature as well, from all accounts. Though Amadis killed it, you should be proud of your actions in the fight. You saved the lives of many of your brothers.’

‘Not all of them,’ said Zahariel, remembering Pallian’s screams as the beast tore him apart. ‘I couldn’t save them all.’

‘That is something every warrior must get used to,’ said the Lion. ‘No matter how skilfully you lead your warriors, some of them will die.’

‘It was only a matter of luck that I didn’t die,’ Zahariel said, ‘the sheerest chance.’

‘A good warrior will always take advantage of chance,’ said Jonson, looking up at the sky. ‘He should adapt to the changing circumstances of battle. War is all about opportunity, Zahariel. To be victorious, we must always be ready to take hold of opportunities as they arise. You showed initiative in fighting that beast. More than that, you demonstrated excellence, precisely as the
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defines these things and sets them out as our ultimate aim. We cannot know what mysteries the universe holds, or what challenges we may face in the future. All we can do is live our lives to the fullest extent we can, and cultivate the virtue of trying to achieve excellence in all things. When we go to war, it should be as master warriors. When we make peace, we should be equally adept. It is not good for human beings to accept second best. Our lives are short. We should make merit of them while we can.’

Abruptly coming to silence, the Lion continued to stare up at the night sky, as Zahariel stood beside him.

‘I wonder what is in the stars?’ the Lion said. ‘The old tales say there are thousands, perhaps millions of planets out there, just like Caliban. They say Terra is one of them. It is strange, don’t you think, that every child born of Caliban knows the name Terra? We count it as the source and wellspring of our culture, but if the tales are true it has been thousands of years since we had contact with that source. But what if the tales are false? What if Terra is a myth, a fable invented by our forefathers to account for our place in the cosmos? What if our fathers’ tales are lies?’

‘It would be terrible,’ Zahariel said. He felt a shiver and told himself the night was growing colder. ‘People take the existence of Terra for granted. If it all turned out to be a myth, we might start to doubt everything. We would lose our moorings. We would not know what to believe.’

‘True, but in other ways it would free us. We would no longer need to be responsible to the past. The present and the future would be our only boundaries. Take the current campaign against the great beasts as an example. You are young, Zahariel. You cannot be aware of the bitter arguments, the threats and the recriminations that were directed towards me when I first advanced the plans for my campaign. All too often, I found that the causes of these objections were rooted in some dated custom that had long ago worn out its welcome.

‘Tradition is a fine ideal, but not when it serves as a shackle on our future endeavours. If it wasn’t for Luther and his fine oratory, I doubt the plan would ever have been approved. It is the same with so many issues that confront us today. The diehards and the sticks-in-the-mud oppose us at every step, irrespective of the value of the plans I put forward. They always make reference to the past, to tradition, as though our past was so filled with shining glories that we might actually want to preserve it forever. But I am not interested in the past, Zahariel. I think only of the future.’

Again, the Lion paused. Standing beside him, Zahariel wondered what Lord Cypher would make of this speech decrying the value of tradition. Might this be another test, one designed to see whether he would simply acquiesce to what the Lion was saying or stand up for the values of tradition.

As he looked upon the Lion’s countenance, he saw a strange intensity to the way he stared up at the sky, as if he loved and hated the stars at the same time.

‘Sometimes, I wish it was in my power to wipe the past away,’ the Lion said. ‘I wish there was no myth of Terra. I wish Caliban had no past. Look at a man without a past, and you will see a free man. It is always easier to build when you build from scratch. Then again, I look at the stars and I think I am too hasty. I look to the stars and I wonder what is out there. How many undiscovered lands? How many new challenges? How bright and hopeful might our future be if we could make it to the stars?’

‘Such a thing seems unlikely,’ said Zahariel, ‘for the moment, at least.’

‘You are right,’ said the Lion, ‘but what if the stars were to come to us?’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Zahariel.

‘Truthfully? Nor do I,’ said the Lion, ‘but on nights when the stars are bright, I dream of a golden light, and of all the stars of the heavens coming down to Caliban and changing our world forever.’

‘The stars come down to Caliban?’ said Zahariel. ‘Do you think it means anything?’

The Lion shrugged. ‘Who knows? I feel I ought to know its relevance, but every time I think I sense a connection to the golden light, it fades and leaves me alone in the dark.’

Then, as though shaking off the last of such a dream the Lion said, ‘In any case, the stars are denied to us, so we will build the future here on Caliban. Still, if we are to be limited in that way, then we will not allow it to limit our vision. If we are only able to build our lives on Caliban, without access to the stars, then we will make this world a paradise.’

The Lion extended an arm, sweeping it in a broad gesture across the night-time panorama of dark forest and treetops below the walls of Aldurukh.

‘This will be our paradise, Zahariel,’ the Lion told him. ‘This is where we will build a bright new future. The campaign against the great beasts is only the first step. We will create a golden age. We will make the world anew. Does that sound a noble aim to you?’

‘It does, my lord,’ said Zahariel, the words coming out as a reverential whisper.

‘An aim worth committing our lives to?’ asked the Lion. ‘I raise this question, here and now, because of your youth. It is the young who will build this future, Zahariel. You have shown promise. You have the potential to be a true son of Caliban, a crusader, not just against the beasts, but against every other evil that ails our people. Does that seem a worthy purpose?’

‘It does,’ Zahariel replied.

‘Good. I am glad. I will look to see how you perform in the years ahead, Zahariel. As I say, I think you have potential. I will be interested to see you live up to it. Now, you have been kept from your duties long enough, I think.’

The Lion inclined his head, as though listening to the slight sounds drifting from the forest below. ‘I should return also, it is not good form if I am away for too long. People notice. My place in the Order is as much about forging bonds of brotherhood among the knights as it is being wise and canny in matters of war.’

A moment later, the Lion was gone, disappearing into the tower like a banished shadow. There was nothing showy or contrived about this sudden disappearance, for the habits of stealth simply came easily to Lion El’Jonson in a way that only a man who had lived alone as a youth in the forests of Caliban could know.