Rhianon-3. Palace in Heaven

“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.

She straddled his naked shoulders, marveling again at how the gold engraved bracelets on them had practically become part of his flesh. The cold body still evoked a fiery passion. She felt a flash of fire inside her, perhaps a man she would have burned with her kiss, but not him, the beautiful lips remained soft. But the lilies around them began to turn black and curl up from the fire that flashed on the petals. The flowers were turning black, but the bodies woven among them remained white. Madeel’s wing would have been unburned, even if he had touched the fire. But now the slight twitching of those wings made the fires in the tent go out a little. And yet the flowers withered inexorably, withering and exuding the smell of burning. She didn’t care. Rhianon ran her hand through his golden hair, feeling the curls immediately braid her fingers like a net. Her eyelashes touched his. It seemed that in another moment she would open her eyelids and see dead sapphires in the place of his real eyes, like the beasts’ skins in a tent. So be it. Even that didn’t scare her. And the fire didn’t scare her anymore. You can burn yourself now. There would be nothing better than this moment.

“You’re like marble,” she thought, feeling him inside her again.

“And you’re made of fire,” she thought back.

Later, she leaned back on the soft white hide laid on the side of the bed. Madael gently stroked her neck and thin shoulders with his hand. She was the first to sense that there was someone in the tent besides them. Someone was trying to convey her thoughts, but it was not her lover. The one who had just wandered the bleak city and country roads was now standing at the entrance to the tent. For a moment, Rhianon saw with his eyes the scant light on the rutted roadway and the strange creature that wandered there, seemingly neither demon nor human, but something in between. It wasn’t very beautiful, but there was obviously a fairy-tale beauty slumbering inside it. Rhianon could see it even through the alien eyes of the one who was transmitting the visual images to her. It is strange why this being is now so wretched and lost and miserable. He has a great talent. She did not know exactly what was in his purse: a brush, a pen, or a musical instrument, but she was sure it was part of his talent. Beneath the skimpy garment there was light, but it was obscured by pain. This incredibly beautiful, but unknowingly vilified creature would perish if he did not find his own special way to salvation. She suddenly felt sharply sorry for him. Pain pierced her heart like a sharp splinter. This creature is part of Madael’s troops. Rhianon wanted to see something else, but she couldn’t see anything else. Only a voice could be heard now.

“It is the Cathedral of Thunder! Its path lies in the Cathedral of Thunder! Where we all die in agony, to…”

She lifted her head above the pillow. Curls slid down her back like golden snakes, catching the hand that caressed her. She felt Madael tense.

He hissed something fast and harsh. The words left an unpleasant residue. Rhianon blinked to see a colorful figure materialize on the threshold. At first it was only a cloud, giving off a vague mottle, the more time passed, the brighter it became.

“To regain its former appearance,” were the last words she could not hear. Rhianon looked questioningly at Madael, but he was now sizzling with his gaze at the entrant. His blue eyes, black with anger, seemed to be about to burst into flames, and fire turpentine dripped from his lashes instead of moisture.

“How dare you…”

His low but menacing whisper seemed to make the walls themselves tremble.

Orpheus looked rather bewildered as he climbed into the tent.

“I… What? What?” He clearly had no intention of leaving. Not right away.

“Out,” Madael raised his head menacingly, and put his hand to the hilt of his sword. “But if you want to become a pile of ashes…”

Now Orpheus did retreat toward the exit. The reaction was instantaneous.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he mumbled guiltily, and a second later he was blown away like the wind. Rhianon still looked questioningly at the scarlet curtained exit of the tent, it did not even sway and the guest himself had disappeared, but the address “Your Majesty” so much reminded her. She could deduce, however, that he was not addressing her. But what shocked her most was how quickly he obeyed. She turned her gaze to Madael in surprise. He was sleepily brushing back tangled curls from his forehead and looking very young, but she seemed only to be convinced that the spirits considered him a king.

“It never worked out that way for me,” she nodded to where Orpheus had stood recently, the ground seemed to be burning beneath his feet there, and he still wanted to stay here. Is it next to her or to him? Probably with her, Rhianon judiciously decided, because the spirits were not very keen on intimacy with Madael. They were afraid of him, yes, they seemed to be, but that was something she didn’t understand. With him it was so easy, no need to think about any problems, because he solved everything instantly. Even the mediocre Orpheus listened to him. And with her he played the naughty child.

“You have to be tougher and tougher with them,” Madael was still sizzling his eyes into the empty space by the exit, and his gaze seemed able to burn through the empty space.

Then he softened and quickly pulled her to him, as if to prove, not to the spirit, but to the emptiness around them, that he would not give up his prey to anyone. It was his possessive instinct. He is a conqueror after all, a warrior, a victor… Rhianon grinned. It felt good to feel his embrace, but her thoughts of Orpheus still wouldn’t let her calm down. What was this place? What did he mean? Who is the wanderer who seeks his terrible fate in the Cathedral of Thunder, something terrible is there, but it is impossible not to go there, because it is even more terrible to stay here on earth. Thus the terrifying path is inescapable, but beyond it lies liberation and darkness. Rhianon huddled tighter against Madael. Beside him it was possible to escape the fear that stretched to the consciousness as if with pincers. It was good that the nearness of the angel was soothing and calming.

She was half lying on top of him. He ran his hand through her golden curls and seemed to rub her hair in such a way that all bad thoughts receded from that touch. How simple it was, he could have saved a madman with his light touch, or he could have driven her mad, but she was no longer afraid of him. He made her feel so good.

“What is this place Cathedral of Thunder?” She asked, falling asleep.

“The place where heaven and hell met,” he could have avoided answering, as he always did, but somehow he told her everything. “It is the cornerstone in the architecture of the entire universe, and of all worlds. A place that is the receptacle of evil and yet it is blessed because we are all reborn there again. Any of my lost angels can become the same again if they find their way there and perform the ritual. Their consciousness, imprisoned in a human body, still holds all their former knowledge. If only they have the strength to overcome the madness and the conviction that they are only human, and the road from paradise is not their fantasy, then they return to their paradise. It is a gloomy paradise with intricate colonnades and dormant statues. Beneath the enormous dome is a hall, and on its marble floor so many sacrifices have already been made that it is difficult to count. Only a few of them have ended in death. There are some people who want to be mistaken and identify themselves with my troops. Such people perish. It would be the same if a man imagined himself a bird and threw himself into flight. Their entrails remain on the floor and those who do manage to eat the bodies. The others, fragments of my army, remain dead for only a few seconds… it’s not death, really, but an eerie suspension between the real world and the spirit world that dwells in the cathedral. Both worlds are alien for a moment.”

“And then?” She gripped his arm harder so that she almost scratched her side, but he didn’t even notice. If he says what she hopes, she’ll even give him another kiss.

“Then their wings grow back, but if you’ve seen the agony they are beating in a moment before. Only a few minutes pass, and they manage to endure on the marble floor all the pain I have endured in eternity. It comes over each of them in a black wave and drives them insane. A moment seems endless.”

“And you sit on the high parapet like a statue, watching indifferently as others take in your pain. Sometimes you are even satisfied when you realize that you are not the only one who has suffered the most. Others have gone through the same thing.”

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“I guess I can see it in your mind,” she admitted uncertainly, afraid of what would follow.

“You can keep looking,” he said graciously. “I can show you everything.”

“Why?”

“Because you, my twin, are part of me,” he squeezed her shoulders tighter.

“And that means that one day I’ll have to suffer like you, there in the cathedral… or somewhere else…” she herself was frightened by her hunch.

“It is not you,” he quickly objected, “I won’t allow it. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I’m afraid to find it, and yet… if it’s the only way.”

Her lips touched lily-scented skin in a long kiss.

“There are other ways to immortality. Suffering is not necessary.”

“Is that what you say?”

“I prefer to leave suffering to others, but not to myself and not to you.”

“You speak of me as something close to you.”

“But that’s the way it is.”

“Yes, I think so,” she wasn’t sure. It’s always hard to believe in something that is too desirable. Becoming part of someone who is the most beautiful and powerful, it was too good. For a second she remembered the god, the suffering, the destiny that was forever setting her up for it. The god’s chosen are always suffering, and Dennitsa is to blame. The god’s first favorite betrayed him and now everyone he loved after his first chosen one suffers. She suffered the most, for she had been chosen to take his place. And she didn’t want to remember it anymore. No one wants to be a toy that is expertly guided through a thorny labyrinth of pain to lead to some intended goal. Why is everything so complicated? Why must everyone suffer for the fault of one? And why did this one choose to save her rather than kill her, as he first wanted? Rhianon buried her face in the comforting shoulder, felt even more strongly the scent of lilies and some peculiar, unlike anything else, but pleasant smell of his skin. It immediately brought back memories of gold and rye fields and fairy valleys. No one had ever loved her but him. She was loved only by the devil, the one who should hate everyone, and also her society was desired by the fairies. Everything had worked out so strangely, but she regretted nothing. It was good when at least someone loved you, and it did not matter who they were, as long as you loved them in return. And there was no fear that one day it would end in betrayal, war, division of power, or hurtful words. Madael was proving that he could be trusted. She just couldn’t believe herself. The desire to return or destroy Loretta had become so strong that it would have cost nothing to rip open her own guts for it. The terrifying journey to the Cathedral of Thunder didn’t scare her so much anymore. Some things are worth the sacrifice. You just have to find enough courage to make them. The thought that someone had walked this path before her cheered her up a bit.

Dragons’ Valley

Rhianon woke up alone. Though her bed was crumpled, the empty space beside her was unpleasantly startling. It seemed that everything that had happened could only have been a dream. And there really was no deity to hug her at night. There was only fantasy.

She put a hand to her head, kneading the already disheveled strands of long hair. Her consciousness burned as if it, too, had been burned. It seemed that as she lost Madael, she lost her mind as well. Was this how a man who had slept with a fallen angel should feel. The angel is no longer around, and you begin to lose your mind without him.

If she leaves here, there’s a completely empty world waiting for her. Only Rhianon was somehow sure that if she became queen again, that Madael would follow her. He would rule with her, or rather stand beside her throne, like a dragon guarding her. For him, the earthly realm is but a toy, and he can give the toy to her and remain the force that invisibly rules all. Rianon would have been fine with this course of events. She would have her own bodyguard, her own personal dragon. With him at her side, she would not have to fear for her own power. And the bonds that held him back… were they still there, or was his bond with the sky fraying?

Rhianon wondered. Could she live without him now? Would it be possible for her to leave this tent without completely losing her mind? She decided to try. She got out of bed, found on the floor an outfit she had never seen before, and a lace gown. A luxurious dress with wide sleeves and bodice embroidered with pearls fit her just right. She put it on effortlessly. She could feel them crawling lightly down her back and braiding into an intricate knot. Rhianon examined herself in the mirror. She liked the cut and finish of the outfit very much. The only thing missing was a headpiece. The turtle comb, also trimmed with pearls, which was lying on the table, suited her very well. Before she could even think about taking it and sticking it in her hair, it was there. The strands at the back of her head were woven around it, forming a sort of hairstyle. Well, now she has at least a parody of a crown. Rhianon glanced smugly at the teeth of the comb that protruded from her hair. It was like a crown.