1.2 & 1.3

-2-

Na’amah watched the small cottage from a distance.   She had been searching for years for Lord Lucias.  And she wasn’t sure, now that she found him, if she intended to proceed with her long wrought plans.

            Na’amah was the first true born dathanorna.   She was the daughter of Sappharon—the first true born demon—and Anael—who was often referred to as a Goddess but who had actually been the first true born angel.

Had Na’amah’s existence not been hidden by Sappharon and Anael, she would have been thought of as an unforgivable abomination.  And she would have been destroyed.

            Lord Noliminan had ever disapproved of the creation of Na’amah’s father.  And Lord Lucias had ever disapproved of the creation of her mother.  For a time, according to Na’amah’s father, Lord Lucias and Lord Noliminan had warred over the necessity of destroying them both.  In the end, Sappharon had survived.  But Anael had, at Lord Lucias’ hand, been expired for her perceived run of madness.

            In truth, Anael hadn’t run mad at all.  Rather, she had fought Lord Lucias in an attempt to protect the daughter that Lord Lucias had no idea existed.  To protect Na’amah, whose power Sappharon had kenned upon her birthing, could change her form and emulate any manner of creature that she chose. 

            Upon learning that Anael had failed—that she had been destroyed—Sappharon had spirited Na’amah to the most distant of all times and the most distant of all planes.  He knew that if Lords Noliminan and Lucias learned that Na’amah had the power to take on Lords Noliminan or Lucias’ appearance that only havoc could be wrought.

            She would never do so.  Not because she didn’t want revenge on the ruling Gods because of their betrayal and mistreatment of her parents.  Rather, because she loved her father.  He, himself, was mad.  And he wasn’t the perfect portrait of parenthood.  Yet he had done his best.  And he had instilled in her a sense of right and wrong that would guide her though all of her ages.

            With that thought came the moment that she had been waiting for.

            The cottage door opened and her father, his brow furrowed and his expression taut, stepped through the back door of the cottage. 

Sappharon didn’t sense her presence, but that gave her no pause.  She had taken on the form of a deer.  Her presence would be no more noticed by him than that of any other forest creature that passed through his yard.

            Upon seeing his face, all of her plans failed.

            She had believed upon learning that Lord Lucias had been exiled that he had turned away her father to defend and protect himself from whatever retribution would come from keeping one such as Sappharon at his side.

            Seeing her father standing there, outside of Lord Lucias’ cottage, she was confused on how she must respond. 

            Her plans, she decided at once, must now drastically change.

           

-3-

Michael ran his hand through his long black hair and smiled as he walked through the bridging Courtyard. He had always loved the bustle and the activity and he relished in moments like this when Lord Noliminan had no care for his tasks.  Though the peace that currently existed was uneasy, peace it still was.

            "Pardon me, Michael." Michael, who had intended to make his way home after a long day, turned to sound of his brother's voice. Irritated that he was being sidetracked, he glared at Raphael. Raphael smiled patiently at him in response and spoke with a tone which held a note of import that demanded Michael's attention. "Lord Noliminan commands your immediate audience."

            Michael sighed and immediately switched directions.  When they were a good distance away from the tables, Michael asked, "What is this regarding, Raphael?"

            Raphael returned his gaze to Michael. His brow was furrowed but his tone was interested.  "There is trouble that Lord Noliminan wishes to—"

            "Yes." Michael sighed. If Lord Noliminan was calling Michael’s audience than it was immediately assumed that there was trouble.  "But what manner of trouble?"

            "I'm not entirely certain." He replied, shrugging. Michael knew that for the lie that it was. He also knew that no amount of prodding would entice Raphael to reveal Lord Noliminan's intentions for Michael. Raphael was Lord Noliminan's confidant. There was nothing in life that Raphael would do which would put his elevated status above all others within the Sixty Kingdoms in jeopardy.

            Reconciled with this thought, Michael followed his brother in silence through the castle. When they reached Lord Noliminan's living quarters, Raphael gave him a tired smile and led him in. When they found Lord Noliminan, he was pacing anxiously along the marble tiles of the patio. His wife, a copper haired Goddess named Raguel, watched him from her seat at the long table where the two sometimes took their meals.

            When Lord Noliminan saw Michael and Raphael he stopped pacing and gave them a patient smile. Michael stepped forward and found his knee, granting Lord Noliminan his fealty. Lord Noliminan bent his head in acknowledgement of Michael's regard, turned his hand and flicked his fingers upward, indicating that Michael should rise.

            Michael complied, though he kept his gaze respectfully lowered. "My Lord."

            "Michael." Lord Noliminan muttered. He looked toward the Lady and gave her a tired smile. "Raguel, will you please leave us?"

            "Of course, my Lord." She said, slipping out of her chair and finding her feet. Raphael stepped forward and offered her his arm. She took it and allowed him to lead her out of the room.

            When they were alone, Lord Noliminan swept his arm toward the table. "Please. Sit."

            "As you will me, my Lord." Michael respectfully waited for Lord Noliminan to find his own seat and then complied. When he had settled he raised his gaze, finally braving to meet Lord Noliminan's own.

            "A delicate situation has arisen." Lord Noliminan sighed. As he did so, he stretched his long legs forward and crossed them at the ankle. At the same time, he leaned backward and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were dancing over Michael's face. Whatever he had to say to Michael, Michael had the distinct impression that it carried great weight.

            "How might I serve you, my Lord?"

            He gave Michael a strange smile. "I understand that your father has taken up residence in the world known as Anticata."

            "I have heard these rumors." Michael agreed. He felt his brow furrow. He had long thought that the matter of Lord Lucias and his disobedience had been abandoned. It had been over two hundred and fifty thousand years since Lord Lucias had been exiled. During that time, Lord Lucias hadn't, to Michael's knowledge, broken any of the rules.

            "Michael . . ." His light brown eyes were dancing over Michael's face. "If you know where Lucias is hiding—"

            "I don't." Michael advised him. "Not exactly.  You have instructed us to have no contact with him. That we communicate with him only through Loki when our tasks demand it."

            "Yes." Lord Noliminan replied. He uncrossed his arms and began to trace the veins of the wooden table top with one of his powerful fingers. His gaze was averted to this design. "Those were my instructions."

            "We haven't disobeyed you, my Lord." Michael assured him.

            “I know that you haven’t," Lord Noliminan sighed. "My question was not meant to be accusatory.”  Then with a frown, “I'm afraid that I must amend my decree." Michael felt himself start at this news. Lord Noliminan, sensing his discontentment, raised his gaze and gave him a tired smile. "It is my understanding that Ishitar has learned all that he can from the Quorum."

            Michael blinked at him and clenched his jaw. Ishitar was the third most powerful God to ever have existed. Needing to keep Ishitar’s purpose for having been created shelved until the time came to use him, Lord Noliminan had given Ishitar to Michael’s brother, Zadkiel, to raise.  When Ishitar had become old enough to be schooled by the members of the Quorum, Michael and his brothers had each taken him under their wing to teach them about their individual tasks. 

            "He has been a most eager student." Michael agreed, almost hesitantly.  He wasn’t certain where this conversation was going and he didn’t want to admit that Ishitar had learned all that he could from Michael and his brothers.

            "If it's true that the Quorum has taught him everything that it can," Lord Noliminan said, his tone even, "then it's time that he learns from those of his mother's world."

            Michael licked his upper lip and raised his gaze to meet Lord Noliminan's. Hurtling Ishitar into the politics of Hell seemed to be less than a reasonable plan to him.  Ishitar was an extremely gentle creature.  Michael wasn’t entirely certain that he could survive sparing with the likes of Mordred or Hades.  "Is that wise, my Lord?"

            "If he is to destroy worlds," Lord Noliminan replied, very patiently, "then he must master Lucias’ arts just as he has mastered mine."

            "Yes, my Lord." Michael agreed, his brow furrowing. "But I have taught him what he needs to know in order to broker a war. I do not believe that—"

            "It isn't your steadfast loyalty that Ishitar must master, Michael." Lord Noliminan barked impatiently. "When your father and I agreed to create Ishitar, it was with the understanding that he learn both realms of my Kingdom so that should it become necessary that he destroy the entire race of a people that he does so with complete precision and understanding as to where his decision has come from. It isn't something that he should ever take lightly." He smiled tightly at Michael. "You are not a self commanding individual.  Whether serving myself or your father.  And so, he can't learn to make such a choice on his own from you. Now can he?"

            Michael lowered his gaze to his lap. "No.  He cannot."

            "Though I highly suspect that Loki knows of Ishitar’s existence, I cannot have you speak with him on my behalf about this particularly delicate situation." Lord Noliminan sighed and tapped at the table. "Accordingly, though I suspect that Loki is the obvious answer and that it will be to his care that Ishitar is given, I need you to find your father's private residence and ask him directly who in the Hells Kingdoms he wishes to have see to Ishitar’s final scribing."

            Michael felt his mouth fall slightly open as his joy and anticipation thrummed through his heart. He knew that Lord Noliminan was watching him very closely, however, so he immediately steeled himself and fought back the rush of desire that ran through him to look upon his father's face and speak to him again after all of these many, many years. "My Lord . . . You wish me to break my father's exile?"

            "Only in so far as you are to have this conversation." He nodded. "Beyond that, you are not to dwell in Lucias’ presence." He cleared his throat as he watched Michael swallow the lump that had risen in his own. "Mind me now, Michael. I know that you love your father. And I know that you will want to bring him comfort."

            Michael lowered his gaze, trying to hide from those words. He couldn't deny them, however, so he clamped his jaw tight and nodded his agreement.

            "Though I wish that it were not so, you must not." Noliminan leaned forward and reached across the table. He grasped Michael's hand and squeezed it tightly. Michael looked upward and met his gaze, swallowing a second lump that rose to his throat as he found only compassion and understanding radiating in his Master's eyes. "Is seeing him and then walking away again something that you can do?"

            "Yes." Michael whispered. He desperately hoped that this was true. "My Lord, I will obey you."

            Lord Noliminan gave him a tight lipped smile. "I miss him too."

            "I know that you do." Michael smiled in response. 

            "When you see him," Lord Noliminan said, his eyes darting away. "You may tell him that." Michael opened his mouth to speak but was silenced. "But you are to speak those words to no one but him."

            "Never in life, my Lord." Michael agreed.

            "Good." He tapped on the table again and gave Michael a final, tired smile. "Leave me now. And see to your task."

            Wanting nothing more in the world in that moment than to see his father's face, Michael, very eagerly, did as he was bid.