Dufaii - The Patron Saints of the Damned Book I

“The vote stands at 3,113 to 2 in favor of the liberation of the Lightbringer. General Ammon led the discussion in favor of the motion, while General Dufaii led the discussion opposed. Both speeches can be found in volume II of ‘The Speeches of the Rebellion’ page. 72.”

-tally recorded by the rebellion archivist, Desdemona DeBlake

-O-

Dufaii stood on the north side of the mountains, in the forest that surrounded the fields where he’d led thousands of angels in training. He was in his armor now … with both his guard sword and his soul-blade in dual sheaths at his side. A chill went through him, and he wished he’d spent longer that morning in Michael’s warm embrace. But the truth was that … he couldn’t bear the feelings of deceit a moment longer. He’d left a letter … under a fixture in the Archangel’s room. It would take Michael years to find it, most likely, though Dufaii planned to send a duplicate once he was safely away. In the letter were the normal things, how Dufaii felt about Michael, how he wished he could have told the truth, a thousand apologies for the lies, and the written hope that the two would one day work to get past their differences in view on the state of the Creator. However … a part of Dufaii knew that this would never happen.

These cold woods were where the members of the rebellion had come to learn–just a hundred at a time, for a few hours a day, for a few short years. Dufaii stood not far from the cave entrance where he’d first been invited by Hades to join the rebellion.

It was time, and that in itself was surreal to Dufaii. It felt like any other day, sun in the sky, angels moving around him. But there was an energy in the moment, a tension between hope at freedom and despair at utter destruction. Said tension would soon snap … but until then, all worked in silence.

Dufaii knew that they would have to make a quick escape; a third of Heaven could not go missing for long without causing suspicion. He looked up at the towering and completed gray wall on the other side of the forest. There would be guards up there, unsuspecting of the attack that would soon come. Once they were gone, it would be a straight shot to the ocean where they could make the most portals to Earth at once.

Dufaii wondered where they would find to hide and fortify themselves against retaliation. He, Ammon, and Hades had spoken of seeking the aid of any gods who had not yet lost themselves to madness in exchange for mutual protection from the Creator. Thus far, it was the Greek deities who seemed like their best bet.

Hades cleared her throat, alerting him to her presence. Like many of the other angels he’d taught, Hades no longer had a discernible aura by which to be tracked.Hades then put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry.”

Dufaii nodded at her in reply. She was the only person he had confided his emotions about Michael in. As far as anyone else was concerned, Dufaii was simply getting better information from the enemy.

The two of them made their way through the thousands of angels in the forest. Those angels who had trained gave intermittent and silent salutes. The angels who had supported them by remaining diligent and unsuspicious in their labor for the Creator mimicked their salutes in a more subdued way.

Hades and Dufaii returned their salutes with deep nods of acknowledgement. And as they passed, the angels fell into silent formation behind them. Eventually, these split off into the positions they had already been assigned to. Finally, the two generals arrived at the edge of the forest, between thousands of rebel angels and the northern wall.

Hades made a series of hand motions. When she did, the angels nearest her fell into lines and other formations. These angels made hand-gestures of their own. Soon, all angels ready to fight were ready and at attention. A sea of black weapons were raised and at the ready, each one different from the next. Some angels began to change into their practiced forms for further lethality–with horns, claws, fangs, tails, scales, fur, and even exoskeletons.

Dufaii stepped alongside the tree that was very closest to the wall, not a half mile away. It was time for him to change as well. He reached back into his memories … or maybe his soul. He remembered and relived that time before he had a solid form. Holding to that, he willed his power to make himself as close to transparent as he could–slowly becoming a dim shadow under the trees. He felt numbness as his skin, his black leather soul-armor, and his weapon all vanished into the ether. He then took flight and rose higher than the wall.

Dufaii glided for a minute or so before he spotted his target. It was a guard standing near one of the massive stone spike coming from the top the wall; he was looking out over the sea.

With precision and brutality he had forced himself to practice on willing allies, Dufaii swooped silently, landed with one foot on the wall, and used the momentum of his landing to smash the guard’s head into the stone. There was a splash of golden blood that covered them and the wall, but the guard went down without another sound.

Dufaii’s eyes watered as he stripped the guard’s armor, left it neatly for the rebel angel who would impersonate this guard until all the angels were over the wall, and then looked to his right. The other guards had been similarly incapacitated by other semi-transparent scouts. They were then tossed behind the walls, and their unconscious bodies quickly covered in leaves by teams of smaller angels waiting below.

Soon, all the fake guards were in position, spanning three miles across the northern wall. The rest of the angels emerged from the tree line up in the center of those three miles. Thousands of angels filed out of the canopy, ready to fly over the walls.

Suddenly, a trumpet sounded in the distance—a sharp series of tunes that were much too specific to be a mere series of everyday signals. It came from the direction of the Library. Somehow, Dufaii knew immediately that something had gone wrong with the retrieval of the Lightbringer.

This alarm was followed by a chain reaction that made its way through the city, the Holy of Holies, the barracks, and then down both sides of the wall, each trumpet playing a unique set of notes.

Dufaii realized that the chain reaction would soon rely on the incapacitated guards to make a specific sound. While the replacement guards had trumpets and knew the daily tunes to play, they wouldn’t know the specifically assigned notes for whatever emergency was being alerted! Soon, their ignorance would signal the rest of the real guard to their position! He looked down at Hades, who stood far below.

Hades had lifted her dagger into the air and screamed with a thunderous voice, “Over the wall, now!”

Angels from throughout the woods took flight up past the trees and toward the wall. Dufaii knew that he would have to make a way for them. He abandoned the blurred form he’d taken before, returning to his solid shape. Then, he dove to the beach. He spread his wings when he had nearly crashed into the rocky shore and then began to glide towards the water only a foot above the ground. He unsheathed his sword to cut the water and make portals ready for the approaching rebel angels.

However, Dufaii’s path was interrupted by something that landed with massive impact onto the rock, sending up dust as metal boots crushed stone. It forced Dufaii to land and roll to avoid going into one of the portals prematurely.

As soon as Dufaii had stopped rolling, he hopped up with his sword at the ready.

The Archangel Michael stood before him, his own claymore in hand as he stood in full armor. His eyes were wide, though he looked unable to speak. Thousands of other armored bodies began to land in formation behind him, blocking the rebel angels’ path to the sea.

Dufaii looked back at his forces, wondering if perhaps they could fly over the guard, but something else caught his eyes. A massive being nearly three times as tall as any angel flew overhead without wings or any visible means of flight. It landed on the beach alongside the guard, causing the ground to shake like low thunder. This had to be what had caused him to fall out of the air.

The figure was masculine in form and had muscles that rippled all over his body. His pale skin glowed orange from the lightning that circled around his arms and hands in sporadic arcs. He wore no clothes, but black clouds enshrouded his torso. It could only be … the Creator.

The rebel angels looked stared at the Creator, most with wide-eyed expressions of terror. Some dropped their weapons. But nobody moved.

Dufaii wondered if this was the end of their escape. Had the entire battle been lost before it even began? He felt a heaviness come upon him, settling in his stomach, across his shoulder, and in his raised arms so that they fell to his sides. Something told him that all that the salvation they had hoped for was now impossible. Their lives were over.

“Defensive positions!” shouted Hades from atop the Wall with a commanding voice that pierced through the heavy fog that had overcome Dufaii and many others. Her voice carried such savage strength that all the rebel angels seemed to jump, creating a wave of metallic noise from their armor and weapons as they snapped to the ready. Again, they were an army, a legion of claws, horns, armored exoskeletons, pincers, and black eyes.

Ammon was now beside her, his face stern and seemingly unbefitting of his small form. He lifted his hand definitively in the air. When he did so, a small cluster of angels in black cloaks rose up from behind the Wall, descended as one, and landed on the beach. They threw back their hoods and separated to reveal the Lightbringer, who had been hidden in the middle of them.

The closest one to the Lightbringer, an adolescent female with a form rippled with muscles, her head kept bald, and a large sword in hand, stayed close to the Lightbringer’s side. The others in black robes stayed close as well. They were the angels who had volunteered to rescue the Lightbringer and remain as her guard … and, despite having been caught, they’d done it.

The Lightbringer, in the same form of a small girl as all those years before, did not seem to notice them or any of the other angels. Her eyes locked upon the Creator, and her jaw began to move. There was no hearing her at this distance, but with her mind she whispered, “I was always loyal to your wishes. I did as you created me to do. But now I can’t think. My mind hurts. All I feel is pain, and I don’t know what to do. All I know is that you betrayed me … you made me feel this way. Now, I’m going to make you hurt.” She extended a hand into the air. From it, smoke poured and gave shape to a black soul-weapon. This weapon started out as the same staff the Lightbringer had always used, but one end began to fray and twist like a vine into three points. It became a black trident with barbed points.

All the rebel angels mimicked the Lightbringer’s enraged glare against the guard separating them from their freedom and safety.

Dufaii turned as well, feeling that anger too. Suddenly, he knew what the Lightbringer felt and what every other rebel angel felt. Their brothers and sisters in the guard had betrayed them, made them feel pain and fear. No matter the reason or the excuse, the guard had betrayed them all.

When Dufaii turned to face his enemy again, however, he remembered that he was not up against some nameless member of that cruel guard who had tormented his brethren. He was up against … Michael. Immediately, Dufaii’s features softened.

“Stand down!” the Archangel Michael shouted to the rebel angels, his eyes looking fierce but also exuding an unmistakable trace of fear. He turned to the guard and held a hand up to them as well, standing between all.

Dufaii thought, for just a moment, that maybe Michael could end all this madness. Maybe … just maybe … those brilliant gold eyes could pierce through the defenses of everyone else on that beach. He would tell them all that they could work together to get through this. The Creator would finally make amends for their abuse, the Lightbringer would get the help she needed, the guard would be disbanded, Heaven would be reunited, and Dufaii could throw himself into the arms of his beloved.

But before Michael could get out another word, lightning erupted, and thunder covered up anything else he might have said.

A jagged orange line had visibly erupted from the Creator’s extended palms. It forked and divided–on course toward the rebel angels.

However, the Lightbringer stepped forward and raised her trident into the air. Like before, the lightning was summoned to it, striking the black weapon with so much power that a red glow emanated from the burning metal.

This time, however, the Lightbringer seemed able to contain the power of the lightning in the weapon itself. She then extended the trident, aiming the three points at the Creator. Orange light shot out from the trident in a single concentrated beam. The orange beam struck the Creator in his chest, causing the black clouds over his torso to dissipate and the pale skin beneath to bubble, peel back, and scorch under the pure power of his own rage.

The Creator was knocked off his feet and landed on a dozen of the guard, crushing them.

Michael roared, his eyes burning filled with a passionate mix of fury and fear. He removed his weapon from his sheath and faced the rebel angels.

Dufaii stepped close, shook his head and whispered, “Please, Michael … please don’t. You could come with us; you could be free.”

“I would never betray my Creator,” the Archangel replied and readied his sword.

Now all eyes were upon the two of them.

Dufaii felt tears fall down his face. Then, in an instant, he steeled himself. He jumped powerfully while unsheathing his soul-blade, spread his wings, and cleaved with a brutal strike.

Michael barely evaded the attack, blocking with his claymore, spinning, and landing on the ground to prepare for another strike. He did not seem to notice the crack already running through his weapon.His jaw trembled a bit before he was able to regain himself and shout, “You … you-”

“I made a choice,” Dufaii replied in a solemn tone. He swung at his opponent’s stomach.

Michael blocked with ease. However, his sword shattered, and his steel armor was cracked by the tip of the blunt-edged blade. His eyes widened in a brief instance of horror.

Dufaii performed a spinning flurry as his dull blade bounced from his opponent’s armor. He used the counter-momentum to strike swiftly from the other side. The end of his sword crushed the Archangel’s temple, cracking the skull loudly.

Michael fell, blinking and looking like he was working to hold onto fading consciousness.

“I’m sorry, the ultimate loyalty of a soldier is to his people, not his king,” Dufaii whispered, unsure if Michael could hear. He reached to his scabbard and drew the steel sword that the Archangel had given him. He regarded it sorrowfully for only a second as he dropped it at Michael’s feet.

Dufaii then turned his attention to where there was again movement between the Lightbringer and the Creator.

The Creator was again standing, but the Lightbringer ran, lept, and plunged her trident into his chest. The Lightbringer dangled, holding on tight as the Creator thrashed savagely to shake her loose, bellowing a roar and another round of lightning from the clouds around him.

However, the lightning was immediately drawn into the trident to further damage his own body.

The Lightbringer unhinged her jaw, revealing many rows of razor teeth. She waited for the Creator’s thrashing to throw her upward, released the trident, and sunk her teeth into his throat. The Creator fell and rolled along the ground.

Both the guard and the rebel angels watched the battle being waged before them. The guard, despite their anger, looked hesitant now that the Archangel Michael had been taken down.

Jakkarta, known by all to be the second in command in the guard, stepped forward with her sword raised. She was a female angel with slightly more ornate armor, reddish brown skin, and straight black hair tied tightly behind her. The rest of the guard raised their sword to mimic her and then took their first steps forward.

“In formation behind General Dufaii!” Hades shouted. “Divide their forces up the middle, and keep his flanks covered!”

Dufaii pointed his sword at Jakkarta and waited until she saw. When Jakkarta met his eyes, she emitted nothing but fury through her own. She flew ahead of the army, leading a charge against the rebel angels. The guard followed behind, some formations flying with her and others sprinting across the battleground.

Dufaii took flight to meet her in the air, though he did not intend to fight her there. He engaged in a defensive flurry, blocking each expert slash of her sword. Then, when she was in reach, he folded his wings, dropped, and grabbed each of her ankles. He used the momentum of his drop to throw her to the ground.

Jakkarta crashed to the earth with a heavy impact, and another rebel angel stomped her skull.

Dufaii dropped to the ground and fell into formation with other rebel angels. Many of the guards rushed for him, screaming and even breaking rank. Because of their emotions, he was able to use his heavy, edgeless blades to shatter the sword of one, then another, then a dozen more in succession. He weaved between their attack, falling behind the shields of allies when he had to, and slamming his heavy sword breaker against every steel blade that came near him. He didn’t need to worry about finishing them off–the soldiers behind him made short work of every unarmed opponent.

Suddenly, there was a thunderous explosion and the sounds of battle ceased.

The Lightbringer’s small form had been thrown at a wall with such force that cracks branched out in a circle around where her body had broken it. It was incredible … how deceivingly dense her body had to be to not have splattered like nothingness against the rock. The Lightbringer fell from the place of impact, onto the beach below and did not move.

The Creator turned to face the rest of them, golden blood gushing from his throat and charred chest. His movements were sluggish, and no more lightning encircled his arms or hands.

The Creator extended his hand out. It took a moment, but a gold liquid pooled from his arms and began to take shape into a long floating object before him. In a matter of seconds, he had produced a soul-weapon. It was a massive scythe.

Dufaii shook his head in disbelief.

The Creator rushed toward the rebel forces and swung his weapon. The enormous blade cut dozens of angels with a single swing, sending torsos, limbs, and wings flying behind him with the arc of the weapon’s movement. Making no exception for members of the guard caught behind enemy lines, he cut the angels down like blades of grass–sending black and golden blood alike spilling onto the rocky ground.

The attack seemed to Dufaii like simple and horrendous brutality for a moment … until he realized the consequences of it. The rebel angels were being literally cut into pieces en masse, the pieces of their bodies scattered wildly across the shore. This meant that the only options that the rebels had were to either scatter and abandon their fallen brothers and sisters or else fight for the time they would need to gather the wounded and the scattered pieces of them.

Dufaii looked back to the Wall for any sort of direction for what he should do next.

Hades was staring and likely had been the entire time, directing rebel angels with gestures and words when one came near. She hadn’t lost herself in the turn of battle, but neither could she direct her forces to move as one. Her eyes met those of Dufaii and she said, “You are the only one who can stand a chance against him. Hurry before he-” The words were cut off with violent suddenness. Hades stood motionless for a moment. Then a blade poked out from her stomach, followed by black blood that stained her leather armor. She fell, not just from where she stood from the entire wall.

Raphael now stood in her place, donning light metal armor and holding a saber with blood covering the blade. She then turned her sword to the next rebel angel beside her, Ammon.

Ammon readied his black short-sword, and they exchanged a few blows. Then, two guard soldiers flanked him from either side. Swords in hand, they stabbed into both of his shoulders simultaneously. Then, Raphael finished the fight with a clean decapitation

Dufaii screamed as loudly as he could, realizing everything he now cared about being ripped away from him. His allies, his hope for freedom, it was all gone. His face burned with the heat of rage. He used his sword to cleave through a nearby member of the guard, breaking the angel’s sword with an overhead strike and bursting the skull like an overripe fruit with his heavy soul-blade. He slid along the sand, picked up a broken blade piece, and threw it into another guard’s throat. Then he let out another anguished roar, opened his gray wings, and took flight toward the Creator.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the silhouette of the last of the Archangels to the battle. It was too late for him to react as the Archangel Gabriel struck from above. His metal boots struck the back of Dufaii’s skull.

Then, there was darkness.

-O-

To my Love,

I hope you don’t find this letter; I hope you find the duplicate I send in the next few weeks, once negotiations and talks are set up between my people and yours. I imagine you there, worried, not knowing what happened to me. Every moment that the duplicate letter delays is a shame I cannot apologize enough for. If you do not receive a duplicate, it means that something has gone wrong … but we won’t dwell on that.

First, I want to make sure you know I never meant to use you. I mean … I did to some degree, at first. I was lost and desperate to do what was right and protect whatever other angels no longer felt safe in this place, our home. But I didn’t expect for you to fall in love with me, nor I with you.

When we did, and I found out how many of our brethren were being kept here against their will, I just … I just devoted myself to the hope that we would one day be able to sort this mess out amicably.

Maybe the Creator won’t allow that … but maybe their mind will continue healing and they will. I know how much you care about the Creator, how much you believe they will get better. So I hope that for you as well. So we can both get what we want, and hopefully find one another again.

In the meantime, please be sure to water the jasmine I left for you. I know the scent always helps when you’ve had a hard day, so take care of it … and yourself. And if you find that you cannot forgive me, please … take care of yourself anyways.

Yours always,

Dufaii

(-letter archived in the Great Library after being turned in as evidence in the trial against the rebellion. No second letter was ever found.)