Airel - Aaron Patterson [22]
Kreios knew that family was the most important thing in the world to all of them. Just the fact that they had offspring to carry on their bloodline was a miracle. Zedkiel and Maria had tried for years to have children. After many painful losses, it looked like they too would finally be blessed with a child.
The fire crackled as Zedkiel tossed another log in, making sparks jump up and pop in the air. It was a cold day; the wind starting to beat against the small village as Kreios talked to his brother, telling him everything that had happened to him in the last few years.
Kreios shed his long winter garments and both men sat on hand-crafted wooden chairs.
“I am trying to be strong but the pain of losing…” Kreios looked down into the fire. He had a long scar that ran down his right arm and a jagged tattoo-like marking across his left bicep that looked like eagle feathers. His powerful arms and upper body moved, and in the firelight, his skin appeared translucent.
“I am sorry Kreios. I know how much you loved her.” Zedkiel had the same light skin tone but he was not as big as Kreios. His hair was long and dark, pulled back and tied with a leather thong. His massive legs were pure muscle, hardened from many years of labor.
“I remember the first time I saw her.” Kreios smiled and looked away, calling up the memory. “She was so beautiful, and filled with joy and so much fire. I know that leaving heaven was wrong, but for her…she was worthy of the consequence I continue to pay.”
Zedkiel nodded. “I have been by your side for a long time. I too have no regret…other than causing El more pain.”
Kreios sighed and poked the fire. He watched the flames as they licked up the wood hungrily. “What are we to do about the Brotherhood?”
“We must face them, destroy them.” Zedkiel spat in the dirt. “We cannot hide forever. I felt you coming here. I understand why you had to hurry, brother. I felt both of you as you took to the air, but I fear what I might feel next.” One of Zedkiel’s lingering gifts that he retained after the fall was the ability to sense imminent danger.
Kreios could hear him thinking about the Brotherhood and he considered their options. He shook his head, knowing that what he had done, in taking to the sky, had been like the sounding of the Battle Trump from the top of the highest mountain. It had been nearly a call to war, his desperate attempt to save the life of his little girl. Certainly it may have voided the agreement, the pact, but only time would tell.
“We cannot face them and win. They sap our power the nearer we get to them. The only way is to fight them one at a time. Pick them apart, alone and unaware. With speed. We must be even more merciless than they.”
Kreios remembered his dearly purchased training involving the Brotherhood in close combat. He had learned that if they were within close range, his power and strength would fade quickly and they could kill him. The Brotherhood always fought in pairs; a demon and a man. If divided, they could be killed, but together it was much more challenging.
Kreios was pure-blood angel and could heal from almost any wound, but the Brotherhood could prevent this process when they were near. The strategy Kreios had finally settled upon was to fight them in small groups, try to kill the demons, the monsters, fast—the men afterward. Then he would hide until he had enough time to heal.
“We must fight smarter, Zedkiel. Ensnare them, separate them from their partners. And we must put to use what is in our hands now.” Kreios stood, picking up an object as he did so. It shimmered like water as it caught the light. He held out the invisible weapon and ran his finger down the broadside of its length.
Zedkiel stood and whispered, “Where did you get that?” His eyes were large and round as he realized what he was looking at.
“I recovered it a year ago. It is my sword from the days of old. I tracked the wretch who took it from me and killed him with it.” The