The Farthest Gate (The White Rose Book 1) (42 page)

“Do all you must,” I cried to Ellyssia, “but do not kill him, or Philippe is lost!”

Death stumbled back defensively, as Ellyssia gave chase.

A thrill raced through me: I might well be seeing Death humbled in another moment!  My heart pounded in anticipation, and my hands trembled.  Dark strength bled into my soul as joy gave encouragement to the dark rose I carried.  Without Ellyssia’s restraining presence, the black petals were flexing, casting off my feeble attempt at control.

Oh, no, not now!

Near the ceiling, a light exploded the gloom. My eyes and mind were stunned by pristine beauty that had a near solid impact.  A piercing song expanded, washing away the ages of despair that choked these courts.  Even the dark rose inside me was affected, clenching shut—for now.

I shielded my dazzled eyes, and turned from the bright cascade. 
What is this?  What is ... happening?

Answering my thoughts, chorused crystal tones sent a resonation of joy and peace through my heart.  The sound was so perfect, these had to be angel voices I heard.  An unseen door to Heaven had opened.  The light-storm dimmed enough for me to see into its brilliance.

Ellyssia’s green fire went white like her sword.  Her body glowed, an alabaster statue made pliant as she moved under the light.  Forgetting the duel, she lifted a radiant face, alive with unexpected hope.

Death could have stabbed her unaware, but he retreated from the angelic presence, as if it showed him an inner ugliness he could not bear to see.

Ellyssia was joined by a winged warrior with long hair of radiant gold who wore a sheathed sword.  The reavers faced the two, hoods thrown back to bare chalk white faces.  With melancholy expressions, the dark angels drank the visitation into thirsting spirits, as if such pleasure might never come again.

I was startled when Azrael knelt beside me.  His cold hands cupped the hand I used to absently staunch my wounded shoulder.

“Let me see how bad it is.”  He spoke gently, prying my hand away to examine the damage.

As he wrapped a bandage under my arm and over my shoulder, I looked back to Ellyssia.  She had removed her helmet to speak with the celestial warrior.  I strained to hear, but could not discern their words, only a crystal thrum that hung in the air like the ghost of a promise.  The queen’s face shimmered with elation as shards of incandescence coalesced at her back.  She fanned wings, restored at last after untold centuries.

My view was blocked as Azrael moved to help me stand.  I leaned into him.  “Help me over there, quickly,” I begged.

He nodded and half carried me deeper into the illumination.  The air resisted our advance, but Azrael got us through.  I felt him tremble with weakness.  Then his hands withdrew into his cloak.  He hunched over.  I wondered if the light was a torment to him.  If so, he would have to bear it just a little longer, for urgent matters needed to be addressed.  I made myself turn, forcing my knee to function despite a punishing spike of pain.  My nerves were choked with messages of agony.

But I could bear this—for Phillippe.  I had to.

“Ellyssia!”  My voice lashed out, ragged and harsh.  “Are you abandoning me?”

It did seem as if Heaven were reclaiming one of its own.  While I was happy for Ellyssia, once she left this realm, Death’s wrath would blaze all the hotter, heightened by his cowardice in the contest.

Ellyssia’s voice held both joy and regret, “My Lord calls me home to assume my former estate.  I cannot refuse him a second time.”

“But I need your sword to win!” I said.

“No,” she spoke with crushing finality.  “An avenging angel’s soul is their sword and it cannot be wielded by another.”

“But my son’s soul—”

The angel held up a hand to forestall further argument.  “
Though far more is at stake here than your son, you must be calm and know peace.  You are not abandoned, White Rose.  Love will find a way, as always.  All you love
will
survive the coming Darkness.”

Swirling winds beat at me.  How I remained standing, I do not know.  The celestials’ wings cast shadows in the air below them as they ascended through the blazing gate, into a realm of utter radiance.  The crystal song cut off sharply, along with the light-storm, as the farthest of all gates closed.

The stillness that followed was leaden, lingering stubbornly.  I stayed quiet because my words would only inflict bitter despair on those around me.  The only hope left was the darkest sort—but I faced it, and turned to Azrael.  His face was lifted high, as though he waited for the light to break again.  I could see that he longed for it terribly—but I thought Heaven was done with this place.  I wished
I
could say the same.

I pulled Azrael’s face toward my own, forcing him to meet my eyes.  “Listen carefully,” I said.  “I think I know what the angel was trying to tell me.  There is still a chance, but I need you to get Grandmama and Phillippe out of here, and our forces as well.  You must get everyone to another world entirely.  I must face Death alone if I am to beat him.”

“You believe you
can?
  Or are you just sacrificing yourself?” he challenged.

If it came to a sacrifice, I would.  That was why I needed to evacuate the battlefield of those I cared about.  My sacrifice would take far more than just me.  But I could not tell Azrael this, or he would insist on staying at my side where he might be consumed.

I smiled with false confidence, and held my glowing ring behind my back, pouring desire into it for a storm of roses to come find me.

“I can do this.  Trust me.”

He stared into my eyes as if to read my soul.  I prayed that the depth of my intentions would not show.  I did have a plan, but if it did not work, I would have to release the darkness within me, though it would certainly devour my soul.  If that happened, Death might survive, but
not
his world.

And the souls of the dead?

Their fate would be left to Heaven.

Azrael said, “I will do as you say, and return as quickly as I can.”

“Good.”  The timing would be troublesome, but I thought I could manage all that was needed during his absence.  “Give me a signal when you hold everyone in your shadows and are about to leave.”

He nodded and vanished into his swirling cloak.

I remained ringed by reavers with nowhere to go.

             
Death stalked toward me, wearing his human face.

I stood still, with no sword to meet him.

He stopped a few feet away, eyes fully dark, but without the rage I expected.  Still, he was coldly imperious, his attitude proud and demanding.

I lifted my head and spoke
in defiance, “Are you ready to surrender?”

“You ask me that,” he thundered, “when even a weak wind will send you crashing like a storm-felled tree?”

I smiled through the pain, having accepted it in order to find a place beyond, where I could function.

Words were my weapons now.  I used them to buy Azrael time, “I am nothing if not consistent.” 

My grandfather took a step forward, holding his shadow-blade at his side in a loose grip.  I wavered within striking range, yet he made no effort to cut me down.  Was he savoring this moment, or did some vestige of chivalry tug at him since I was both unarmed and injured?  Perhaps I had misjudged the darkness of his heart.  After all, even estranged, Grandmama loved him.  He therefore had to possess a
few
redeeming traits.

He bowed with formal courtesy.  “Granddaughter, I will permit you to stay here, with your son.  You need not die in the next moment.  You are obviously blood of my blood.  I owe you this much.  Besides, I find myself growing oddly fond of your obstinacies.  You have banished crushing boredom with an unrelenting vengeance
most astounding.  Pledge your sword to me, and take your rightful place in the family.”

I sighed.  “Is it so hard for you to simply do what is right?”

“It is a matter of cosmic balance and of pride.  I must ensure that there is always one of my line—a living soul—to contain and channel the energies of the expired.  Abaddon can no longer fill that role, thanks to you.”

Thanks to his own evil.  I decided not to press the point, taking up another argument instead.  “How do you expect my son to benefit you without his body?”

“I will have it fetched here.”

“You will not find it.”

Death nodded to himself.  “Then you must have taken it to Avalon.  In that case, Phillippe’s body will age, but not die.  And his soul in these courts will not become a true shade.  I need not worry about putting him back together again for a long time to come.”

His smugness made me want to strangle him.

My thoughts flashed to Azrael.  What was taking him so long?  He needed to hurry!

There remained one compromise I could try.  “If Phillippe accepts his destiny as your heir, can you not allow him to enjoy his natural life on Earth before he takes on this calling?”

“He is the last of my line, and Earth is full of sickness and violence.  I will not risk losing the legacy of Death to another dragon line due to some sudden misadventure.  Phillippe needs to stay where I can protect him.”

“I am heir before my son,” I said.  “I will stand in his place.”

“No.”  He refused my offer with a sad shake of his head.  “The inheritance of Death has always moved through a male line, as the
Office of the Rose
moves through a female line.  And one calling cannot be abandoned for the other.  My darkness can never touch you.”

What!  Then whose darkness was this inhabiting my soul?  Where had the dark rose come from? 
              Never mind, such speculations would have to wait for another time—if there was another time.

I sighed heavily.  “Then you leave me no choice.”

I remembered how he had pulled out darkness from his own body to shape the sword he used.  I was his granddaughter.  If there were justice in the universe...  My empty sword hand speared into his chest withdrew, dragging out a ribbon of shadow, hardened by my will.  I now held a shadow sword of my own, one that stung my palm with burning cold, fusing my fingers with frost.  I held the dark blade between us, trusting my arm to do what it must.

Instead of retreating in shock, Death jammed in, pressing the flat of my new sword hard against me, trapping it between us.  I pulled in vain against his strength, and then pushed into him, but my shadow sword did not budge.  It liquefied and drained back into him, leaving me with nothing.

Until Azrael’s voice reached me.  “Celeste, now!”

At last!

Death quirked an eyebrow.  “What are you up to?”  He retreated from my silence, but the point of his sword approached my face as his arm straightened.  “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Look beyond your guards,” I suggested.

His eyes became green flame.  His head turned to the reavers surrounding us.  He peered into their ranks and beyond.  Then his face turned back to me, its flesh dissolving to a grinning skull.

“So, you have taken what you wanted from me after all.  That does not mean I will allow your actions to stand.  I assure you that what one renegade reaver has taken, a legion can reclaim.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I said.  “If there is no World of the Dead, then what use is there for Death, or an heir?”

He laughed.  “I know you do not have
that
kind of power.”

The windows shattered.  I smiled.

Reavers murmured in disquiet.

Then came the rustle of sliding vines.

“Are you so sure?” I asked my grandfather.

Death waved away the reavers.  “Go find my grandson and return him to me.”

Above the heads of the dark angels, I saw rose vines spilling into the building through the broken windows, descending the walls, covering the shattered mirrors.  My reinforcements had come!

The reavers vanished into their shadows, leaving Death with a clear view of a hall conquered by a surging sea of vines with a white froth of gleaming roses that were lit from within.  We were surrounded now by the talismans of my office.  The growth was wild and rapid, piling high and spreading into every nook and cranny.  Even Death’s throne was swallowed whole.  In moments, the only open space lay immediately around my grandfather and me.

“You question my power,” I said.  “How much more of it do you need to see before you understand that victory will be far too costly for you?”

Death laughed.  His shadow lengthened and swung out wildly at the roses like a sickle.

My elation thinned as the vines in that darkness withered and decayed, falling away as dust.  Even now, it seemed, I remained only a minor inconvenience to my grandfather.  He turned from surveying the dying vegetation to look at me proudly.

“You are ever surprising, my dear granddaughter, but I
always
win.”

“You are wrong,” I said.  “Though it cost me everything, I will destroy all that you would force upon my son, that he may recover his life again.”