Rhianon-3. Palace in Heaven

“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.

“Look, this is the cry of those who had everything and have lost everything and know that there is no return,” Madael whispered, holding her tightly to him.

His face was terrifyingly calm. Not a muscle flickered, and his vacant eyes were expressionless. She was shattered inside, crying out.

“Should I feel pity for you?”

“Oh, no,” he arched his eyebrows expressively, “I expect no pity from anyone, my dear, and they deserve what they get because they followed me.”

“You really are the devil.”

“Yes, but you belong to me, not to the god who tortures them so.”

Rhianon involuntarily wondered what would happen if he suddenly opened his arms and let her fall into the demon-infested abyss.

But Madael was in no hurry to let her go. On the contrary, trusting no magic, he did not unclench his arms. Hanging in the air himself, he put his arms around her waist, so that Rhianon, her back pressed against his chest, could see perfectly well what was going on below. He let her enjoy the sight before he turned and flew away. It was just as lightning struck the clumps. Rhianon realized that she had only seen part of it. She assumed that some impossibly strong, clawed creature was still dragging these boulders and piling them on top of each other.

“Are they building a temple for you?” She guessed. “It is a temple for a defeated deity…”

“It was for their deity,” he reminded her firmly. “You can call it a temple if you like. I don’t know what it is yet, but they’ve got to have something to do, so they’ve got to build it. Just think if mortals were to pray to us, to me and to you, and make blood sacrifices in this place. And then my servants will sacrifice themselves.”

“You are unbearable.”

“I had someone to learn from,” he remarked reasonably, perhaps recalling his former lord. His words made sense, Rhianon thought.

“Stop this construction,” she asked.

“Why is it?”

“It is to please me.”

He seemed to find that answer to his liking. She couldn’t turn around to look him in the face as he hurtled across the sky with her, but she thought for a moment there was a contented grin on his face.

“You’re just like me. And you don’t like their cries either. They make me feel better sometimes, though. It’s always nice to know that someone is suffering a little, and not just enjoying the pain of the world. I can never get used to the suffering of others, Rhianon. I can’t imagine why these things whimper when the real pain is unknown to them.”

“I suppose it is known only to you.”

“Oh, yes, it is,” he said. He had already brought her into the tent and set her on the bed. The folds of the new smoky gold garment he’d given her rustled pleasantly. It seemed that this dress of unknown fabric could change color on its own. Not long ago it had been blue, then emerald, and now gold again. The whole gamut of colors was in that fabric, just as the whole palette of pain was reflected in the eyes of the fallen angels.

Madael understood without words what she was thinking and crouched beside her.

“I won’t let you suffer,” the lilies were ready to bloom from his touch, but she remembered the blood and the fire and the screams of hell.

“You won’t have to go through what they did, believe me, I won’t let that happen.”

“Why is it not?”

The answer stunned her.

“I don’t know.”

At first she didn’t even believe it. Whether he was joking or trying to fool her again with his heavenly philosophy, but his voice sounded quite serious. Only someone who really couldn’t comprehend himself could speak so thoughtfully. She looked at him and realized, he really didn’t know. How complicated he was, a mistake of nature and at the same time its crowning glory, he could not comprehend his own feelings.

“Then can you answer one question about my kingdom for me?”

“Yes,” he looked at her eagerly.

Rhianon hesitated for a moment. It was hard for her to ask and she was afraid to hear the answer.

“I’ve asked you this before, but I want your answer honestly. Why is it Loretta? Why would you fight on their side if there was no justice with them?”

“No,” he agreed. “But there’s more evil on Menuel’s side.”

He lowered his head for a moment, unsure of what to say. There was a moment of hesitation on his handsome face, and then he spoke again.

“You see, there are chosen ones… These people are a mistake, but they are extraordinarily valuable. God wants them to know the world in suffering, only then can they create. My demons whisper to people to do evil to these chosen ones, but in turn, anyone who has wronged them will face unbearable punishment. It’s an endless cycle, and I’m tired of it. In Menuel, on the other hand, there are blacksmiths who are almost as gifted as my Zwergs. They’re almost as close to divinity, and for that alone they should be gone, or at least those of them who are particularly gifted. But that doesn’t bother me anymore, because I’ve seen many civilizations crumble, countries and cities disappear, villages burn. I myself have often accompanied this along with my fallen armies. I don’t care which side I fight on, because I support no one myself.

“Except justice,” she reminded me.

“That’s God’s notion, not mine, and it’s pretty streamlined,” he reached up and gripped the hilt of the sword against the stock. “Justice is in the blood. It’s the way of the world. And it makes me sick.”

He looked as if he were about to let out a sigh of fire from his pale lips that would devastate everything. Rhianon shrank back involuntarily. But in a moment he looked back at her, and his eyes were clear.

“It was as if I wanted to say, before I met you,” he said, “that I have someone to defend and a fighter on whose side I must fight now. I am always on your side.”

“And what is it about Menuel?” She asked after a lingering silence.

He shrugged dismissively.

“The wretched workmen and drunks. They had not only made fun of one of the chosen ones, they had almost killed him. They’d had their fun that day. Arnaud barely got away from their dogs, barely survived… but he stayed. I think he had already forgotten about the incident, but the payback came, in due time, in my person… You see, it’s all an endless cycle, and the deceptive feeling of peace only makes it harder to come back. And everyone on this earth can be considered a sinner, and I will catch up with them sooner or later. First is Menuel, then it is Loretta. Believe me, after a deceptive victory, defeat will be even harder for them.”

“Yes, and now I have to do with my own hands all the things I opposed. And, believe me, that’s the worst punishment.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Rhianon,” he put his hands on her shoulders, careful not to crush her fragile human bones. Strange, he could have killed her, and she was not afraid.

“God makes you do things that even from the outside you couldn’t bear to watch. He destroys you with your own hands. What a cruel way to crush a strong will.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You would have, if after your first defeat, you hadn’t grown indifferent. All the desires in you fell asleep as soon as you lost.”

“You woke them up.”

“But you still obey his orders.”

“Do you?” He drew her to him, as if to say that he’d already broken a cardinal command by forbidden intimacy with a human. For some reason he had always put her above all humans. He did not even express it with words, only with quiet gestures of reverence, admiration, even some kind of adoration, rather than love. She had learned to guess his thoughts. He thought about taking by force something that should never have belonged to him.

One thought roused him. It was time to discard not only his sword, shield, and cloak, but also the clothes that were no longer necessary. He quickly freed himself from his armor. With his hands he helped Rhianon remove her dress. He needed her scalding kisses, as he had once prayed. He needed this beautiful toy on his bed with a human body and a consciousness close to that of an angel. If God thought that expelling him from paradise deprived him of heavenly pleasure, how misguided he was.

“This is where paradise is,” Madael whispered, pressing his lips against hers and running his fingers along the exposed curves of her body. “The paradise I was never supposed to return to, but here it is…”

All the gloomy thoughts were really gone. The crushing pain was gone, dissolved into the bliss of earthly coitus. That pain had clutched him in a vise ever since he’d fallen, and now it was gone. Perhaps when he awoke in Rianon’s arms it would resume, but at least not as much as when his bed was empty. In those days he could not sleep, sleep would not come to him, oblivion would not come, his scorched mind would rush like a fever. Perhaps that was the punishment, no one explained to him, but his mind was racing as if caged. The gloomy, empty world, devoid of any beauty, took on some color only when blood was spilled. He flew over the world and reveled in the suffering of others, only because he himself was suffering the most. Those were the ages of madness. The mind was imprisoned in fetters, like the body, and only freed with the body. Madael ran his hands over the perfect female body, too thin for a grown woman, yet it was girlish and delicate. She was as fragile as heavenly light, he thought, and could become just as sizzling if the need arose. Who knew better than he that the peaceful glow of dawn could explode in a sizzling flash at any moment. When he should have been punished, that’s exactly what had happened. But now the punishment turned into bliss. The long, sweet kisses, the nights without sleep, not because he was going crazy with the crushing emptiness and inability to sleep, but because he was making love, and the desirable body beside him that felt like it was part of you-it was worth giving up heaven for all that. He pulled away from her lips with a quick grin, but the next moment he was back on them with a long kiss. Rhianon’s fingers tangled in his hair and slid pleasantly down the back of his neck. With her other hand she caressed his shoulders, sometimes touching his wings. His feet touched his hips, his knees his back. Now he really felt like a god.

Rhianon leaned back on the bed, letting him do things on his own. She liked it very much. She had never felt as good as she did right now. Only somehow it seemed to her that there were other things going on in the tent besides the rhythmic merging of their bodies. She could hear murmurs and soft voices, some rustling, whispering, rustling noises. And just for a moment she thought she saw something creepy in front of her. Heavens ploughed with the glitter of swords, like a battlefield, squabbling and shouting, bodies like the one in bed with her now, but there they were horribly disfigured. She covered her eyelids, and when she opened them, she thought that now he himself was unconsciously emitting some kind of witchcraft to make the tent brighter. She saw his handsome face before her, covered in a slight sweat, but unusually luminous. His glistening hair came down, covering them both in a golden veil. She wished I’d never taken her lips from his.

She reached into the bed and fumbled for something delicate, slippery, slightly covered in moisture. Lilies, both water lilies and garden lilies, weren’t here yesterday, but now the flowers were scattered across the bed and the floor. They gave off a sweet smell, but not like his skin.