Savage Divinity

Total Word Count: 18041



The hundreds came, the hundreds saw, the hundreds said yea or nay and to each the hundreds was given another living day.

But it came a time for judgment of a stranger, fearsome sort and the angels of above themselves broke into violet, restrictive cohorts. Saddened and ashamed was the one they called their God. To their violent outbursts he would but nod. The leader of the kin who had broke forth was called by Lucifer, the angel demon with a head for hate and the frightening seducer. Once upon a fragile land he took the angels who dared to call him Lord and he trained them and he taught them, took up the calling of the sword. The sword them left with justice of a fierce and bloody kind. Those who fell away were with injustice blind. Lucifer then took his troops and marched on God\'s great realm, with baying hounds and terrors filled all leading at the helm. He challenged God and Heaven\'s reign with terror yet again. The fabled Three didst hide their eyes and ask if he was sane.

Then came the war, the battles hard which broke out in the night – filled they were with strife and fear and hatred bred of light. Once the warring ceased, there stood alive but four – the Angels of the Arc whom violence then foreswore. And a time of peace then came, to be enjoyed by all, and the angels once so plentiful rejoiced in devil\'s fall. But now that they were small in count then thus said Lord so great – Go forth, my angels, my feared four and a new race now create. The angels did agree with Him and followed His command, and it was to earth they traveled, as once had Son of Man.

Once alighted on the earth the four went out to find the humans to best suit their needs to breed another kind. So they found and so they took and the humans then were raised. Within the clouds, within the skies the angel four cried out The Lord be praised! And thusly saved was angel\'s race, borne forth from wombs unpure, but so the stories run, the course they took was sure. So when your strife is building and the clouds seem dusky grey, look back, think back to the beginning and think on this I pray. Once there was a King, and once he had a son, and once there was fighting, but now the fight is done. The war brought no good, it only festered ill, and now your God has spoken – has declared war against his will.

So love and love and love some more, and forever shall this be, for when you look to God for grace, then graced you so shall be.



The Song Master\'s voice trailed off on the end and Reson opened his own eyes, small wonderment etched in their depths. He had heard the story of Lucifer and the angels\' first revolts of course, but never in such a form. It had been more rote learning…not something he had ever thought worthy of a song. The greatest generals on earth had been unworthy of songs written in their measure – why would Uriel parade one song to the glory of the demon angel? But –

"Uriel wrote that?" Reson asked, surprised when his voice trembled from hushed expression.

"He did," Coris confirmed, gently stroking the harp as if his fingers still longed to be playing it. In a way, maybe they did. Reson blinked, chasing away tears that still threatened to fall. "Did you like it?" Coris asked.

The question caught Reson off guard. He wasn\'t used to be asked about his position on one of the story songs – usually there were there simply for memorization, to turn an unbearable task into something a little easier. But this… He shook his head slightly, not saying no, but asking silently for time to collect himself. From the bed, there was a sound he assumed coming from the Angel-stock. It sounded oddly like weeping.

He dared a glance up, seeking the other\'s eyes, wondering if perhaps there were emotions within the other being that had escaped him at first to notice. Reson\'s eyes alighted upon the Angel-stock, sitting up in the bed, tears running down his cheeks unashamedly. I don\'t believe it.

Always the Angel-stock had been dehumanized, brought down to the level of base animals. How was it that one could have such appreciation for the finer walks of life? Growls built in Reson\'s throat, but he smothered them with another look to Coris. The Song Master was very pleased looking as his eyes drifted back and forth between the two of them.

"You have learned, then?" the Song Master asked.

Reson wasn\'t quite sure who he was addressing, but he nodded anyway. It\'s food for thought, even if I haven\'t quite learned it yet, he decided. The reasoning seemed to pass through the Angel-stock\'s mind as well, because he nodded as well, even as a hand drifted up to a cheek to brush away the tear water. The Angel-stock looked quite surprised when his hand came away wet. His expression was so nonplussed that Reson nearly laughed aloud at it. I guess that he wasn\'t even aware of how moved he was by Coris\' song. I suppose that\'s one advantage of being a Song Master and not just a regular bard type. He can make the song come alive and even if people aren\'t ready to accept his message, he can get it ingrained in their minds at the very least. They have to think about it sometime. It\'s inescapable.

He liked that about song learning, though it was also one of the most detested features as well. Simply being unable to not think about a subject could be irksome.

"I think I\'ve learned what I needed to know," Reson said softly, his eyes still watching the Angel-stock. It was odd; it seemed the other didn\'t even take notice of him and yet he was acutely aware of the ashen haired creature. He needs a place among us, I suppose. Then Reson modified his thoughts, for such a place would never be granted. He needs a place here, among we two. And that was easily enough granted. He had already taken possession of the bed – it was no big stretch of the imagination to have him taking over the half of the tent the bed was in.

"I don\'t think I have." The tremulous voice of the Angel-stock cut through Reson\'s thoughts, and his eyes flickered over. Coris was looking at him as well. The Song Master rose to his feet and made his way to the edge of the bed, the harp set down beside the bed.

"Then perhaps you are not so well versed in the history of our world as you may think?" the Song Master inquired. "Or is it something else – are you afraid to believe? Ashamed?"

"Why would I be ashamed?" the Angel-stock snapped.

Reson did growl then, disliking the way the young male was addressing his teacher and friend. "Watch your words," he warned.

Coris though brushed them off, shaking his head and hand as if words were inconsequential. Perhaps to the old Vilyte, they were.

"It does not matter if you are or not," he said impatiently. "I need not know if you are – you are the only one who must be privy to such information. I can help you learn the ways of our teachings – notice I say our. It is ours. Yours, mine, Reson here – it belongs to all of us. And the outside world, if they would bother to remember it."

"There has to be something more important to it."

Reson shook his head. Trust an Angel-stock to muddy already unclear waters. "I don\'t think you get it," he muttered. "It isn\'t what you understand, but what you do with the knowledge. That’s what I learned first."

He looked to Coris for confirmation – it had been the old Vilyte who had taught him that lesson first in song form – but the Song Master was shaking his head. "No. No, Reson. You remember correctly, and the song does sing that way, but it is one of the ones open to interpretation. A literal interpretation of the song would lead one to believe such…" He paused here, looking for a word to use.

"Falsities?" the Angel-stock supplied with a small laugh that seemed to almost border on a cough.

"A word that works well enough, and thank you," Coris conceded. "The less literal interpretation would have one look to what the speaker is implying. What you understand drives what you can do with that knowledge. So, the understanding is the key to operation. Is that clearer?"

No.

"Yes."

Maddening Angel-stock.

"I believe I get it, now." A frown creased the Angel-stock\'s brow. "But…why?"

"Ah, the question that no one has ever been able to answer," Coris replied fondly, as if patting the question on the head. "No one quite knows why. Certainly there is supposition and if one looks closely enough, there might even be perceived motive, but no one will ever truly, without doubt, know the why of things."

Reson shook his head. That goes against nearly everything he\'s taught me. To his dismay, the Angel-stock seemed to understand perfectly, and was nodding in agreement, adding his own thoughts in. Frowning in disapproval, Reson tuned him out, focusing solely on Coris, waiting for the Song Master to make a motion to show that he was displeased with this newest captive student. It never came.

In fact, it seemed to Reson that Coris was actually agreeing with the Angel-stock on matters of philosophy – a sight he had never imagined he\'d live to see. Not just the Song Master being patient with someone who had no clue what was going on, but the Song Master congratulating someone on understanding! It went beyond unbelievable. Reson\'s jaw tightened.

He never did that with me, the Vilyte thought rebelliously. He refused to admit to jealousy, though it was all but drowning him. He even further refused to admit to being jealous of the Angel-stock. Not even another Vilyte, but a creature he considered below the level of Heaven\'s acceptance.

But – didn\'t Lucifer consider the angels who refused to fight below the level of Heaven\'s acceptance too? a traitorous voice asked from the back of his mind, slithering forward with intent. Didn\'t the same thing happen in Coris\' song? He had to think for a moment, to run his mind back over the tangled lyrics that passed as story fodder.

\'The leader of the kin who had broke forth was called by Lucifer, the angel demon with a head for hate and the frightening seducer. Once upon a fragile land he took the angels who dared to call him Lord and he trained them and he taught them, took up the calling of the sword. The sword them left with justice of a fierce and bloody kind. Those who fell away were with injustice blind. Lucifer then took his troops and marched on God\'s great realm, with baying hounds and terrors filled all leading at the helm.\'

Yes…and he went to destroy them.

It seemed the ashen haired Angel-stock had already worked beyond that point; he was conversing rapidly with the Song Master, leaving Reson floundering in their wake, attempting to follow a set pattern of words that seemed to have no pattern. He opened his mouth to plead for help, but one glance to the Angel-stock\'s self-satisfied eyes convinced him otherwise and he shut his mouth before he could say a word. He felt no longer like asking for assistance, at least, not in the presence of such a precocious individual who seemed to be so greatly favored by the Song Master himself.

Instead, Reson excused himself after enduring the painful exchange that he could not follow for a moment longer, and went outside. Once outside the tent, his fists balled up, he just stood for an extended time, staring at nothing, the image of the Angel-stock painted across his mind\'s eye, a smug smile extending across the brazen face of the one who should have been his enemy. Reson was quite tempted at that moment to simply seek out Nemsohiriel and divulge the secret of the Angel-stock\'s existence in the camp to get rid of it.

He hardly needed another complication in an already complicated time, and to have to fight for the attention of his – his! – Song Master with some half blooded creature was beyond insulting.

Coris should know better – it was he himself who elected to teach me after all! Reson wailed internally. The abandonment burned, and left him feeling twisted up inside, as if he was about to be sick. Disgusted with such a poor reaction on his own part, Reson made his way again across camp, noticing that it was beginning to darken yet again.

"Reson!"

Voices calling his name caught his attention. A flock of Vilyte youngsters crowded around him, their eyes bright and wild. He caught sight of a few he knew by face alone, one or two whose names he could remember with much effort. They all knew him and apprehended him with great enthusiasm. "Reson! Reson!" flowed from mouth to mouth, hovering in the air in perpetual roaring excitement.

He tried to brush them away, but one of them caught at his sleeve and hushed the others. This one at least he recognized in both name and face without overmuch effort on his own part. "Royal, what do you want?"

"Come with us, Reson!" the young Vilyte male begged, silencing the others with a sharp look and a wave of his hand. "We\'re going out after the half bloods tonight – see if we can catch some of them unaware!"

The excitement in the other\'s voice would have been revolting to Reson at one time, but the image of the Angel-stock in his bed, talking to Coris, smirking in such an infuriating manner, daring to understand –

He paused for a moment, looking at the group, and their raggedness. "Aren\'t you planning on wearing armor of any sort?" he asked incredulously.

Royal crowed with laughter, echoed slightly nervously by the others around him. "Armor? Vilyte Reson, you must be joking with me. Armor is for those who need protection. If you haven\'t noticed –" he swept a hand out around behind himself "- we are the invincible! Not some pathetic half bloods ourselves waving staves and stones at one another!"

The roaring laugher had a bitter quality to it. Reson looked around him, and saw both pain and anger mingled in the eyes of so many. How many of these have lost family to this war? he had to wonder. How many of them have lost brothers, fathers, friends? The cheering was distant. How many of them have a score to settle? How many – how many? And still, the eyes of the Angel-stock clouded his vision, the smile that wasn\'t quite. Something welled up inside him.

"I\'ll go."

The others seemed a bit surprised at his words, but Royal cheered and slapped him on the back, growling happily. "There? You see? Vilyte Reson\'s coming with us. That\'s a sure sign of victory lads. Not that we need it – these weed kissers can\'t do much more than find their noses in the dark, after all!" His raucous laughter wore on Reson\'s ears, but slowly it dimmed out and he wasn\'t hearing it anymore, covered over with a haze of gold and silver.

"I need my sword –" he began, but Royal cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"We\'ve got extras, don\'t we?"

There was a timid affirmative from somewhere in the back of the pack. Reson paused to take account of how many followers Royal had gathered. There weren\'t as many as he had originally thought. Just eight of them, but moving so quickly around it seemed more like a dozen, milling around over and over. He nodded to them all in turn, unsurprised when none returned his greeting. There had to be tensions among the Vilyte, and especially the young ones vying for position. If they didn\'t envy him his part with Nemsohiriel, then they would be shy around him.

Royal slung an arm casually about his shoulders, swearing up a storm.

Except Royal. Royal cared naught for titles and importance and rank. He would treat the lowest of the Vilyte with the same disrespect he\'d display towards Nemsohiriel – or even God himself, if the wild young male ever had the fortune (or misfortune) to come across Him.

"Let\'s go then." Royal\'s eyes were glistening with excited fervor. "Let\'s go boys! Let\'s get us some half blood hide!"

Reson wondered absently if it was his imagination or if the others tensed up at Royal\'s words, exactly like a pack of whipped curs at a hunting master\'s unpredictable commands. He dismissed the thought though, as they moved out together.

No one stopped them as they moved along the edge of camp. Reson half wondered if the travel was just for show and if they were truly going to leave camp. It seemed though, that Royal had a few more people to pick up. They made short stops at several tents, and another handful of individuals joined the group, all of them hard faced and silent, so much unlike the loudmouthed Royal or his skittish flock of boys.

Reson noted too that the silent ones took up positions at the back of the pack, all huddled together, stalking in uniform movements where the boys that Royal commanded were much less organized. If this comes to a true battle, there will be a massacre, he mused, but oddly the thought didn\'t annoy him. He was still absorbed with ashen hair and story songs that made too little sense to him, and altogether too much sense to parties who weren\'t supposed to understand them.

I suppose one dead Angel-stock is as good as another. He licked his lips. It was time for killing.