Revelations End: Abaddon

Anziel

Chapter 2

"If God did not exist we would have to invent Him..."

Voltaire

Fire burned the clouds.

The snow fell in cushioned silence on the dry African earth; Kilimanjaro, silent and proud, stood in contemplation over its once fertile southern plain, an eternal silent witness to the changing of the world.

Anziel stood entranced at the sensation of the cold underneath his feet as his eyes took in the breath forming in the air before him and the footsteps he had left in the white powder. He stood some seven feet tall, wrapped in raiment of dark blue, starkly contrasting his ivory skin. Long dark hair was held back from his face in a long ponytail stretching to his waist, a golden band of silk holding it in place. His face, marked most obviously by the glistening of his eyes, was expressionless, lips taut, the nuances of the muscles not yet worked out to his satisfaction. At his hip a hand rested lightly on the pommel of his sword, sheathed in a golden scabbard. An involuntary shudder passed through his wings as a flurry of wind caught his robes and pressed them tight to his skin, causing him to wonder anew at the vagaries and frailties of the form he had chosen

He stood perched on a small hill to the west of the plains, the mountain looming like a thunderhead over the surroundings to his left, a bridge between earth and sky piercing the clouds above. Though not high, the mound's prominence afforded him an unobstructed view of the plains stretching away below him, and the armies now arrayed across it. Snow flurries, blown by the persistent desert winds, obscured his view occasionally, but the position was still commanding for one of his rank.

Created of the Seraphim he commanded an Illiniad in this sector of the world, the western end of the larger continental mass being his to win and hold. Anziel was vaguely aware that this portion of the planet was once called Africa, but gave no thought or mind to it. Instead his thoughts and actions were currently centred on the vast plain below him, and the two armies filling it from edge to edge. For the moment they stood apart, separated by a wide river of flame, it's unnatural height and ferocity measured against the tiny silhouetted ruins of the village of Moshi to the north, black as pitch against the orange and red incandescence.

Another shudder passed through him as the wind buffeted his location, and despite the situation before him, it irritatingly turned his thoughts inward again to the form he now found himself in. They had all had difficulty in the adjustment to this physical plane, the transition from an ethereal existence to this corporeal mud ball of weight and effort had not been easy (and those slowest to adjust had ceased to be quickly), but physical battle had demanded physical form. He had been lucky, a member of the higher orders he had been granted his choice of substance and had chosen a form he believed would suit the demands of this battlefield, one of increased muscle and sinew, girth belying the height. Still though he had found himself aghast on occasion at the level of effort required to function in this environment. Not for the first time he wondered how The Chosen- the title almost spat out in his mind- had managed to attain any level of grace at all.

His thoughts changed direction at that and puzzled once again over what appeared to be the already singular failure in this whole endeavour. Time and again they would see these humans; in small groups admittedly and invariably fleeing as fast as they could, but the fact of their existence greatly troubled Anziel. Judgement had been delivered, and most of the Chosen had received the gift of that blessing which they had neither the wit nor will to seek for themselves; yet still some remained.

A wretched screech in the cold air broke through his momentary wool gathering thoughts and alerted him to a break in the inertia before him. High above the mass of ordered ground forces, the opening aerial skirmishes were drawing to a close. Brethren and demon, foregoing the bulk and innate strength of their earthbound counterparts, were fighting above the flames. Fragile enough of build for their wings to support them in the air, they twisted to and fro in a deadly ballet. As he watched, a tight turn by one of his own brought him abruptly up and underneath the enemy, the spear point liquidly entering and eschewing an explosion of dark, flickering matter from the demon's back, the dead carcass falling and tumbling heavily onto the ranks below. Another scream and his eyes darted, just in time to see one of his own torn asunder by a concerted attack from three of the enemy, the rain of limbs and fluid evidence enough of the desire on both sides that no quarter be given.