The Archangels had gathered in the Seraphim Council's meeting hall to hear
Laurence make the announcement:
"... and what with the many and varied Superiors and other beings that have
already taken up the challenge and there having been a full ten days since
the last challenger, if no one wishes to step forward or send word by
messenger, I will declare Michael's Challenge closed as of the end of
today." Laurence read.
No one moved. The Seraphim Council reflected upon all the sights and
wonders they had seen over the past days, as Archangel and Demon Prince
alike had contested the might of the Champion of Heaven on almost every
front imaginable. Speed, skill, strength, endurance, cunning, wit, spirit,
and heart -- all of these qualities had been tested to the very utmost in
both the challenged and the challengers. For millennia to come, angel and
demon alike would speak of the events with wonder. But alas, all good
things must come to an end...
"Well, that seems to have done it." Michael said to Laurence, smiling. "To
be honest, I'm kind of glad that it's finally done with. That many Superior
conflicts in that rapid a succession does tend to take it out of you... but
I wouldn't have traded it for the world."
"You did seem to be enjoying yourself," Laurence said while returning
Michael's smile. "However, I think that you're being a bit premature.
After all, any other contestant who might wish to step forward does still
have until the end of today."
Michael stopped and smiled back at Laurence. "Why yes... that contestant
would, wouldn't he?"
Laurence smiled even wider and said nothing.
Sensing the undercurrents between the two, the other Archangels, who had
started to disperse, suddenly returned their attention to the two militant
Archangels standing in the center of the hall. Servitors who had been
coming in and out on routine business suddenly stopped and looked. The
crowd gathered outside held its breath.
Still smiling widely, the two contestants stepped back without a word and
assume the en garde position. Laurence's gleaming broadsword lept into his
hands as Michael's axe appeared in his. The Host assembled gasped in
realization and anticipation.
"Same terms as the last time?", Michael asked.
"Agreed." said Laurence cheerfully.
The Host was riveted at the spectacle of this last, this final, this
unexpected and most magnificent challenge. The two most militant Archangels
in Heaven had not fought for almost a millennium, had only ever dueled once
in their lives. And there had been no witnesses to their last duel. None
of those in the crowd had ever hoped to see the like again before
Armageddon...
.. and then suddenly, it began.
Faster than even Janus' eye could follow, the two suddenly flowed into their
attacks, their moves perfectly synchronized. Clashing and ringing steel on
steel, Michael and Laurence plied axe against sword each with skill beyond
the dreams of even an Archangel, in the greatest display of fighting skill
that the Heavens had ever seen since the original battle on the Mount. Not
a single tactic, not a single strategem was left unemployed. One was
Archangel older than Creation itself, the other one younger than most of the
Host, but their battle was nevertheless a beautifully matched pairing of
equals. Up and down the Hall did they fight, as all the audience stood
mesmerized by the most perfect, the most glorious, the most magnificent
display of the martial arts that could be conceived.
Michael and Laurence dueled timelessly, in a dance of pure joy and movement.
Neither one of them had felt so pure, so focused, so utterly free of concern
and doubt in millennia. There was no malice here, no hatred, no envy, no
spite. Not the single smallest trace of negative emotion marred the glory
of the moment, neither from themselves or from their opponent. Both War and
the Sword were fully in their element, doing what they had been created to
do yet not having the moment tainted with any blood or pain. As Laurence
pressed Michael again and again, the older Archangel felt nothing but a
pride in his student verging on love. As Michael beat Laurence back, the
younger Archangel felt nothing but the greatest respect for his old teacher
mixed with innocent joy at being able to grant him the boon of a worthy
challenge.
As Laurence countered every strategm, Michael smiled wordlessly at him. -I
know why you waited to go last_, that smile said. -You witnessed every
single challenge, judged every single duel. You studied me through all of
them, seeing me go to my limits in situations of every variety. And then
only after you'd picked your moment, set up your circumstances, did you
challenge me. Well done!-
- -Thank you. After all, you taught me how.-
The two of them did not need speech to communicate, they were so attuned to
each other in the fight. Minutes slipped by. Maybe hours. Maybe days.
Forever after, neither the combatants nor any of the spectators could ever
testify as to how long it lasted, as Michael and Laurence showed themselves
to the fullest against each other, taking each other's soul in full measure.
All else stopped and faded around them as the timeless and perfect duel
unfolded...
.. and then suddenly, the Council Hall was rocked by the sounding of the
Song of Alarm, crying of emergency. Of catastrophe. Of a sudden setback,
an unexpected disaster so large that it required the personal attention of
not just one Archangel, but several.
Without an instant's hesitation, the two combatants disengaged and lowered
their weapons in wordless agreement.
"The terms of the challenge..." began Laurence.
"... were that it could not interfere with the duties of my office. The
same would apply to any challenger."
Michael and Laurence turned as one to face the audience. "The match is
ended.", they said in perfect unison. "There was no victor. There was no
vanquished."
"And now," Laurence cried in ringing tones, the Commander of the Host
calling his troops to arms, "let us attend to our duties. The Challenges
are over. The true War awaits."
The Host dispersed, each one to his appointed place. Most of those who left
did so with regrets, with a sense of something unfinished, something spoiled
before it could end, something that could have been but was not to be.
But the two Archangels in the center of the hall walked away in perfect
harmony, with no regrets at all.
Back to the INC Mainpage.
Back to the Resources page.
EDG <[email protected]>
In Nomine Collection Curator