Like armies on dark wings

Like armies on dark wings.

         The palace dining room was dimly lit by the hearth and torches on the walls. Opulent tapestries hung from the walls portraying the rich history of the land now called Astaroth. Lord Azahel sat at the head of the table wearing crimson and closely accompanied only by two scantily clad women of his harem. The lord of Astaroth watched with a cold smile as the holy knight entered accompanied by two of palace guards. The man, with leathery skin and crudely trimmed, ash-blond hair looked about the room and came to stand sternly at the opposite end of the table.
         "Welcome, sir knight," he greeted "I see you are still clad in your armor. Don't you do not trust on the oath of sanctuary that I swore to you when you requested this meeting?"
         Denos stood silent a moment, his grim mask of faith covering any emotion that might betray him. "I bring no weapons with me. Is that not enough for you? Leave me my faith and the armor of my fathers to accompany me in this place of darkens you have wrought."
         Azahel grinned, "A holy knight's answer indeed. Then please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable if at all possible with such a burden you carry. Sit, dine, drink so that we may speak as equals and of peace."
         Denos brushed off the servant who was about to offer him a chair and dragged the chair himself to accommodate himself at the table.          Two dark skinned women approached to offer him wine and food, but they were only met with contempt. "I am not here to dine with you, or be entertained by your heathen harlots."
         Azahel sighed and signaled the women away "very well then, lets get on with it. To what do I owe your gracious company tonight, Sir Knight? Are we to discuss the terms for peace?"
         He stared into Azahel's eyes, his silence reverberating in the room, "you keep speaking of peace. Yet your city walls are decorated with the corpses of our priests and nuns. You offer me food and comforts in your decadent halls, yet your armies train ceaselessly and your shadow worshiping priests whisper lies into the ears of our people. Do not expect trust from me for I know your tongue is twisted and your words bring only death and darkness to our world."
         Azahel's grin faded and he took a gulp of wine from his golden chalice. "Very well, I see you are not a man for small talk, as your armies outside our walls indicate. Let us talk then, what is it you wish to say."
         "I come not to negotiate but to deliver a warning to you and your followers. A warning and an offer of redemption, for our Lord is merciful and offers the hope of light even for devils like yourself," said Denos in his gruff voice. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his armor becoming uncomfortably warm in the enclosed room.
         Azahel leaned back and glared at him, his concubines' seductive perfume filled the air about him yet his mind was not for pleasure tonight -"A devil you call me. A devil indeed I may be. But what is a devil if not an angel punished for seeking its own divinity, just like Astaroth has sought its own? What is this redemption you offer me? Shall you allow me to submit to your inquisition and be tortured until my soul is purged? What is this light your god brings? Is it the light that will be shed by the burning of the books and scrolls that hold the knowledge and prosperity we have brought to this land?"
         Azahel went on, "I hope you managed to look beyond your horse's ears when rode into our city. It thrives, there is commerce, there is art in the streets, there is music and poetry in the air, not the stench sewage and misery as in the old days. That is what you fear, we are a prosperous society, our wealth surpasses any of your puppet city-states and you are afraid others may want follow our lead"
         Azahel signaled his female companions to leave him and leaned forward on the hardwood table. -"this kingdom was vassal to your religious empire for centuries. What good ever came from that? The king and nobles, and above all, your clergy feasted on the work of the poor. The destitute in the cities groveled in the shit that poured out of the mansions and palaces, scratching a living from the leftovers of your opulence. Serfs in the field fields were nothing but beasts of burden to your church, to plant the grains you traded for gold to decorate your temples and altars and pay for your high priest's extravagance. "
         "We brought freedom to this land," Azahel continued "We brought learning and enlightenment. Turned your temples into lyceums, your abbeys into schools. I brought true light to their minds to banish ignorance and subservience your church had for so long sowed into their hearts!"
         Denos's cladded fist thundered on the table interrupting his host, "Enlightment you call it? Your demonic idols now adorn the streets of DeLain! Yes DeLain, for that is the true holy name of this city! Its people if once poor, were pious. Their souls were rich and their places in paradise ensured. Now they dance sacrilegiously around the corpses of slain priests and worship the horned statues and idols made of brass. What good will all this 'knowledge' you give them do when their souls burn in your master's fiery pits? You have infested their brains with astrology, sorcery, alchemy, mathematics, art; you have bought their souls with the dark one's gifts and the fools have been eager to accept them. We cannot stand this to happen to the rest of our flock!"
         "We tolerated your priests here for many years!" Azahel's voice rose, its controlled calm giving way to anger. His eyes glowed an almost imperceptible orange, like embers waiting to burst into flames. "We tolerated you and welcomed your ridiculous doctrines for those who chose to cling to your blind faith and empty promises, and how did you repay us? You assassinated our council, you attempted against my own life and lit our universities on fire! And you now walk in here to offer me redemption?"
         "Yes we killed your treacherous priests and nuns," -he continued in a low, contemptuous voice, "they squealed like pigs when I myself disemboweled them in the council square. And yes we danced all night and drank their blood in honor of our master! And I would gladly do the same to you if I had not sworn you sanctuary" Azahel's self control vanished for a few seconds letting the knight glimpse his inner being.
         "Look into the mirror of my eyes and see yourself Denos, oh holiest of paladins," the lord od Astaroth commanded, "Have you not betrayed those who helped you become who you are, would you even be here if it wasn't for those whom you call demon worshipers and heathens?"
         Deno's found himself unable to look away from the dark, glowing eyes before him. A dark haired woman peered back at him from their depths, her eyes full of hatred and pained with betrayal, just as they had before he bashed her skull in with his ancient war hammer.
         "Look at you, hiding behind your armor, you think that will protect you from us?" whispered Azahel, his gaze penetrating into the Knight's soul, "you think we don't know all you have done? You have come a long way, Sir Knight, in your holy crusade, but you have lost your soul piece by piece on the journey. Is that why you hide behind plate of steel? Is it from us or from your own shadow that you hide? Yes, we know your shadow well Sir Knight. We can see through you like fine morning mist."
         Azahel continued speaking, his own mind reaching in and crawling inside Deno's memories like a spider, "And then there is the woman, the dark haired witch your mind keeps going back to...You used her too, you used her dark gifts for your own pious purposes. You seduced her, enamored her out of her rage and anger and the lust for vengeance that drove her and brought her to your side. She loved you knight, if love actually means anything to one who claims to love all humanity."
         "She brought you your grand victory at Hasthiel, the gates of Usthar fell to you only because of her dark arts. Where would you and your bloody crusade be if only your god knew of the things you have done... but alas! He does, doesn't he? For you do nothing he doesn't ask for. Do you?"
         Deno's mind veered. His body soaked in sweat under the weight of his memories which suddenly felt even heavier than his armor. He had have loved the woman, he had broken all his vows for a consort of demons. He had lusted for her. The Lord's test had been to much for him, for after all he was only human. He felt shame, self hatred and finally an infinite sorrow with the memory of her. Ashana's face faded into the backround and many more faces arose from the shadows. All of the heathen men, women, children he had killed, all the innocents that had died in the sieges of the crusade, but above all were the woman's dark, vengeful eyes. For a moment he faltered, the words stuck on his throat like snakes chocking him.
         Denos lowered his head for a moment. Azahel, smiled and said softly "I am only bringing the light of truth to you Denos. Truth is the only source of redemption. Stop the killing, enough has been done for your lord of light. Move your armies away, stop your inquisition and let us spread the word of truth throughout the world. Honor the life of the one person who has ever loved you, stop lying to yourself and accept who you are. Join us. She is waiting for you."
Denos stood there, his head lowered, eyes closed, Ashana's image tangible before him as if she were there.
"Lies!" resonated the calm, melodious the voice that had lead him through his life -"you are pure Denos, you are God's hammer and you do not question his decisions. He sees beyond what your human eyes can see. His devices are mysterious, beyond you and me. You have killed yet in the name of light. You are pure. You are pardoned. You are the Hammer of God! Do not let this devil's lies weave into your heart!"
         The words soothed his inner pain like cool waters from a spring. He breathed in and light glowed in his mind beneath his closes eyelids. Slowly he rose his head to face his adversary.
         "Your sorcery has no power over me!" replied Denos his voice suddenly becoming somber and calm, like the eye of a storm. " Hear one last time, Azahel usurperer of DeLain, surrender your demonic reign and your life will be spared and sent back to Hell where it came from. This is all I offer..."
         "Surrender or what? You think your armies will be able to bring down our walls? You think your shroud of ignorance will be able to snuff the seed of enlightenment we have brought?.." said Azahel
         "No, servant of evil," A faint iridescence like the first rays of dawn shone behind him casting shadows and deepening his features.          "You need not fear my armies, they will leave with me as soon as I return. We will leave and not look back for my Lord hHmself and his angels will deliver your fate and of your entire city. Horrors beyond what I could inflict for I He is the true bringer of light"
Azahel's stood tall and defiant. His figure seemed to have grown far more than his actual height, his face become gaunt and his eyes now glowed brightly like the embers in the hearth. Shadows gathered behind him glaring at the knight with hollow eyes "Begone paladin of Tyr. Begone and never lay foot again within the borders of Astaroth or I myself shall drag down to the very pits of hell you fear so much. Your soul is ours, you know what you have done and consequences are to be had. It is just a matter of time before you come to us. Let your god send his killers for us, we shall make our stand our ground and defend what is ours."
         Denos stood, the oak chair flew to the floor as he did. Turning he stormed out of the keep and rode his steed through the city gates. As he galloped through the hills around the city walls his expression was serene with a smile of bliss that shone on his face. Everything around him seemed to him wrapped the sweet divine light of Tyr. In his head his angel whispered to him of the greatness to come. Behind him dark clouds gathered like armies on dark wings over the spires of Azahel's. It was starting. Fire and death began to rain on the fell city of Astaroth.