“I know about Shaitan’s attempts to provoke a riot,” Michael said, interrupting him as the mortals now trailed behind those who had purchased their animals.

  The mortals made their way through the stone archways, and up the second stairwell leading back to the courtyard.

  “Then you must get the Captain out of here,” Gavriel said, glancing warily towards Antonia. “Now.”

  Leaving the Court of Goyim, the mortals reached the inner courtyard, open to any of Jacovite descent, regardless of gender or age. Joseph and Zacharias gave a brief farewell to the women, then went up into the Hall of Men, a narrow terrace restricted to Jacovite men thirteen years of age and older, which encircled the court of priests. Though Rikel accompanied them, Nygel remained with Michael to guard Elizabeth and John.

  Michael shifted restlessly. Once the priests had sacrificed the lamb, its meat would be returned, and the two families would celebrate the Ransom Ceremony with a ritual supper that included the roasted lamb, the breaking of bread, and the sharing of wine.

  “Hopefully Joseph and Zacharias will return quickly,” Michael said. “And I’ll ensure they leave immediately.”

  Gavriel leaned closer. “You don’t understand. Archelaus knows those in Shailem are recruiting the sojourners to join them in a massive protest against him. They are here in the temple, right now. Did you not notice the Jacovites encamped outside? They plan to defend those in the temple, but we’ve not received orders of protection, and soldiers—”

  Shouts outside the temple echoed over the din of the pressing throng and their goats and lambs. The courtyard exploded with commotion as Jacovite men raced through the gates, joining those encamped outside. Sounds of fighting beyond the temple echoed across the courtyards.

  Several women screamed, and Miryam and Elizabeth clutched their children to them. The convoy closed in around them, swords at the ready.

  “Shamar!” Michael shouted, invoking the amethyst. His blade shone with violet, and shot a beam of light Miryam and Jeshua, encasing them in a dome of protection. Nygel followed suit for Elizabeth and John.

  The key around Michael’s neck pulsed, and he glanced up at the Antonia Fortress, heart hammering. Shaitan stepped through the walls of the garrison. His gaze fell on Michael, and a subtle, dark smile flitted across his lips.

  Michael spun on Gavriel. “Find me a gate that’s safe!”

  The acting commander leapt up to one of the vine bridges, just as Joseph, accompanied by Rikel, rushed from the Hall of Men and rejoined Miryam.

  “Where’s Zacharias?” Elizabeth cried.

  “He’s safe,” Joseph said. “I told him to wait in the priests’ quarters.”

  “Commander!”

  Michael turned to see Gavriel on the parapet above one of temple gates farthest from Antonia. “Mortal,” he hissed at Joseph. “The southern gate. Get out, now!”

  Forging a path through the crowd, Joseph conducted the women across the courtyard. Michael glanced up to the outpost above Antonia, and was surprised to see the Shaityrim merely watching. But before he could consider the anomaly, the fighting stopped, as abruptly as it started. A silence fell over the mortals in the temple, as they stared towards the main gate.

  Several Jacovite men rushed into the temple. “The Rhòmans are fleeing!”

  Cheers erupted across the courtyards. Breathless with excitement, the men related their victory over the soldiers, how they had been ordered to submit to arrest, how they had refused and bombarded the soldiers with stones. Caught up in the excitement, Joseph, Miryam, and Elizabeth joined the crowd, listening with rapt attention.

  Gavriel rushed through the throng. “This isn’t over,” he said. “The Rhòmans aren’t fleeing. They’re getting reinforcements. Several soldiers were killed in the melee, and Archelaus will undoubtedly respond in kind.”

  Michael turned back to Joseph. “It’s not safe,” he whispered. “Get out of the temple.”

  But with the tumult seemingly short-lived, the sacrifices had resumed, and Elizabeth reached for Joseph’s arm. “Please find Zacharias.”

  Joseph hesitated. “Are you sure you are both all right?”

  The women nodded, and Michael let an aggravated cry. He turned to the convoy. “Stay close.”

  All around, the mortals praised King Elyon for their victory, and beseeched him to inspire Archelaus to avenge the murdered Hasidim and appoint a loyal high priest.

  At last, Michael saw Joseph and Zacharias making their way back to their wives. “Get Jeshua out of here, now,” he said, as soon as they rejoined the women.

  Though Joseph seemed to have heard him, Zacharias argued that they couldn’t leave without getting their lamb or they wouldn’t be able to fulfill the Ransom Ceremony.

  “Commander,” Gavriel said, pointing towards Antonia.

  Michael turned to see soldiers pouring out of the fortress.

  “Get them out, now!” Michael shouted.

  Once again, screams erupted outside, followed the by pounding of heavy footsteps as Rhòman soldiers stormed the temple complex, swords unsheathed.

  Joseph’s eyes widened when he saw the soldiers. “Forget the lamb!”

  Without regard for age or gender, the Rhòmans slaughtered everyone in their path. In panic, mortals rushed towards the gates, pushing, shoving, and trampling those who had fallen.

  Joseph shielded Miryam and Jeshua as they forged their way across the courtyard, carried along by the crowds, both babies crying hysterically. On either side of the mortals, Michael and Gavriel steered them towards the gate, along with Rikel, Nygel, and the convoy. The amethyst dome surrounding them subtly kept them on their feet, protecting them from being shoved too violently.

  Above, a Khimara roared, then another, followed by startled shouts. Michael glanced up to see the leonine beasts pounding along the gallery, knocking the Malakim over the battlements as they spewed chunks of flaming sulfur in every direction.

  “They’re taking the gallery!” Michael shouted.

  All across the temple perimeter, Malakim were forced to jump to avoid being set on fire, mauled, or bitten by the khimari’s venomous tails. Following the beasts, hordes of Shaityrim archers took up positions along the battlements. Those on the inner parapet nocked arrows to their bows, and aimed for the courtyard below, while those along the outer battlements aimed upwards, preparing against an aerial retake of the fortress.

  Michael heard Marduk’s voice shout the order to fire. Bows twanged, and a shower of arrows assaulted the amethyst dome.

  “Have they gone mad?” Gavriel asked. “Their arrows can’t pierce—”

  The dome of protection shattered.

  Michael blinked in surprise. “Shamar!” he shouted, invoking another dome as he continued beside Miryam and Joseph.

  “Commander,” Gavriel shouted, holding up one of the fallen arrows.

  Michael’s eyes widened in fear. The arrowheads were onyx.

  Shaityrim swarmed the courtyard, attacking the convoy, as another stream of arrows flew towards them.

  “Shamar!” Michael shouted again, renewing the dome.

  “I’ll secure the gallery,” Gavriel said, vaulting up to the parapet.

  No sooner had the acting commander gone than Zacharias and Elizabeth were separated from the others. Nygel seemed torn whether to remain with his charges or help Michael protect the Heir.

  “Stay with John,” Michael called out. “He must fulfill prophecy as well!”

  Shielding his head with his gauntlet-covered arm, Michael practically chanted “Shamar” as he guided Miryam and Joseph towards the nearest gate. The Shaityrim were firing only at the dome, hoping to shatter it long enough for a soldier to kill the Captain, or to have him trampled by the crowd. Above them, mounted Malakim flew at the archers, only to be assaulted by flaming arrows from the Shaityrim along the outer parapet. Pegasoi wings caught fire, forcing their riders to land. Numinous smoke filled the courtyard amidst the violent braying of the mares as they shook out their wings.

  The convoy had formed a defensive circle around both families, fighting off the Shaityrim trying to reach them. Michael’s chest pounded with fear as he tried to guide the couple to safety. Embers fell from above, and through a haze of smoke, he saw a heavily armored figure drop down in front of him.

  The Shaityr legionel Bel’og brandished an onyx blade. “Hello, Commander,” he said, mockingly. “This is for Nebo.”

  Bel’og lunged, and though Michael blocked the blow, he was startled by the intensity of the hate behind the assault. Fear tore through his chest as Miryam and Joseph moved forward without him, escalating to sheer terror as another stream of arrows assailed them, and the dome shattered. He tried to escape Bel’og, but the Shaityr attacked relentlessly.

  A rock grazed Joseph’s head and he fell, while the panicking crowd pushed Miryam forward. She screamed for her husband, shielding Jeshua with her body as she tried to fight the crowd.

  “Rikel!” Michael screamed, but his voice was lost in the commotion. Fending off yet another blow from Bel’og, Michael moved towards Miryam, but before he could invoke another dome, Bel’og’s blade came at his throat. In sheer desperation, Michael deflected the blade, but Bel’og’s assault intensified, forcing him to remain in combat.

  Between blows, Michael stole a glance towards Miryam. Clutching her son to her chest, she struggled against the stampeding crowd. Michael sidestepped Bel’og’s next attack, then tried to rush towards her, only to feel Bel’og’s sword strike his armored shoulder. The sheer force of the blow staggered him. He ducked as Bel’og slashed at his head, and whipped his own blade against the Shaityr’s leg. The weapon glanced off Bel’og’s shin guards, but it was enough to knock him off his feet.

  Michael rushed towards Miryam. She had forged her way to a wall, and was now crouched down in a corner, sheltering Jeshua with her body. “Shamar!”

  Just as a dome once more enveloped mother and child, Michael heard the swish of Bel’og’s blade behind him. Mortals rushed through him as he spun and blocked the Shaityr’s weapon from slicing through his neck.

  Above, Malakim archers swarmed the bridge spawning across the temple, and prepared to fire upon the Shaityrim on the parapet. But before they could release their arrows, Marduk slashed through the vines connecting the bridge to the citadel. The Malakim archers crashed to the ground. The Shaityrim released another volley, and the dome of protection shattered once more.

  Unable to drive Bel’og back, Michael sought an opportunity to invoke yet another dome of protection. As he thrust his blade at Bel’og, his gaze swept the courtyard for any available convoy warrior. But the courtyard was a maelstrom of dripping Rhòman swords, trampled bodies, pools of blood, and panicking mortals.

  A renewed surge of fear gripped Michael as he noticed Shaitan coming towards them. The dark lord appeared to be leading a soldier towards Miryam. A glint of evil darkened the man’s expression as he approached her.

  Michael turned towards the soldier, but Bel’og jumped in front of him, blade flashing.

  The soldier was almost upon Miryam.

  “Gavriel!” Michael cried, but again his voice was lost in the cacophony of mortal screams, and of the Malakim and Shaityrim fighting above him.

  From the parapet on the far side of the temple, a spiky-haired Malak swung across the courtyard on one of the dangling vines from the broken bridge, and slammed into Bel’og’s chest, knocking the Shaityr to the ground.

  Michael spun towards Miryam but the soldier was right above her, sword raised.

  Michael flicked the Avaddon dagger hidden at his wrist into his hand, and hurled it at the soldier. The blade embedded in the man’s head through his ear.

  Miryam screamed as the soldier fell, dead by a sudden brain aneurysm. Michael quickly invoked the amethyst, then whirled, ready to defend against Shaitan and Bel’og. But the dark lord had disappeared into the melee. Several Malakim now fought Bel’og, and Michael retrieved his dagger, grateful no Shaityr seemed to have noticed it in the commotion. Blocking Miryam with his body, he surveyed the parapet. The onyx arrows had all but ceased firing, for Gavriel and a cohort of Malakim had swarmed the gallery. Though most of the Shaityrim archers had fled, a few fires still raged through the garden.

  The nearest gate was momentarily clear, and Michael whispered to Miryam. She glanced towards it, and with a soft whimper, hurried across the courtyard. No sooner had Michael safely ushered her and the Heir out of the temple than the spiky-haired guard was at his side.

  “Find Joseph,” Michael ordered him.

  The guard dipped his head, disappeared into the throng, and soon returned with both Joseph and Rikel. The mortal’s face was streaked with blood, tears, and dirt. Rikel stammered apologetically. “I got him on his feet almost immediately, but he was swept along by the crowd exiting one of the side gates. He tried to get back into the courtyard, but the stampede made reentry impossible.”

  Joseph embraced Miryam and smothered his adopted son’s face with kisses. “I thought I’d lost you both,” he said, his voice choked.

  “Reunion later,” Michael hissed. “Get Jeshua out of here.”

  Finally beyond the temple grounds, the couple met up with Zacharias and Elizabeth, and along with the others who had managed to escape, stared back towards the temple mount in dismay. The massacre was over, and the screams had turned to wails as the living mourned for their dead. The Shaityrim had retreated into the outpost above Antonia, and though thin wisps of smoke still wafted around a few burnt trees and plants in the Malakim gallery, the fires had been extinguished.

  Michael turned to the spiky-haired guard and thanked him.

  The Malak saluted. “My pleasure, Commander. Tylel, at your service.”

  Tylel evidently noticed the flicker of recognition in Michael’s eyes, for he gave him a subtle nod.

  “Where’s your charge?” Michael asked.

  “He was one of the Hasidim advocates just killed,” Tylel said cavalierly. “I’ve fought beside you before, sir. I was a guard to several of the men under Mattathias’ sons.”

  Michael stared at the guard’s exhilaration. Evidently, this was merely the latest skirmish between his long list of charges and their Sheolite opposition. His demeanor was in stark contrast to Nygel’s, and that of the convoy who had rejoined him, whose expressions were still etched with the slaughter they’d just witnessed, and the nigh death of the Heir.

  Gavriel strode up to Michael. “Eremiel reported about three thousand dead,” he said quietly. “And Archelaus has held sole regency for only a month.”

  Michael nodded numbly. “The City of Peace,” he muttered. “What about Malakim?”

  “We lost a few of the convoy due to the onyx arrowheads,” Gavriel said. “I’ve already assigned warriors to replace them.”

  Michael sighed. Though such instances were rare, any time a Malak sacrificed his immortality in service to King Elyon, his spirit returned to the Mistlands, the vaporous region that held the portal to Shamayim, the Netherworld, and Mortal-earth. It was there that the Malakim had first been conjured, and it was there that those who had fallen slept until the end of Time, when all would be restored.

  Michael stared at the outpost above Antonia. The Shaityrim hadn’t so blatantly defied the Rules of Engagement since the night of the Heir’s birth when they had swarmed Beth Lehem. “The Shaityrim cannot be granted such close access to the temple.”

  “Antonia is right beside the temple,” Gavriel said. “We cannot deny them an outpost.”

  “We cannot allow them another opportunity to assault the temple from our battlements!” Michael said, his voice rising.

  “What would you have me do?” Gavriel demanded.

  Michael refrained from lashing out, lest he direct his anger at the Shaityrim towards Gavriel. A wave of exhaustion swept over him as he desperately sought a means of safeguarding the Captain against such another close encounter with death.

  Miryam soothed and rocked Jeshua, who had finally stopped crying. The little boy closed his eyes, no doubt exhausted, his tear-stained face pressed against her shoulder.

  “What about a shield?” Michael asked after a moment.

  “Pardon?”

  “Like the one-way shield Mithras created over the capital city of Persia when he wanted me to think he held you prisoner there,” Michael said. “Except instead of Mauveth, we create a translucent Khahi shield just over the gallery. It would not stop them from getting inside the temple, but at least it would prevent another aerial assault.”

  Gavriel nodded. “I will speak with Filipe about it at once.”

  It was then that Gavriel noticed Tylel, who so clearly looked out of place with his eager expression. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  Tylel smiled and stepped forward. “My charge was killed, and I thought perhaps I could be of assistance.”

  “Report back to Ambriel, and get reassigned,” Gavriel said.

  Tylel glanced toward Michael, as though expecting him to put in a good word for his help in protecting the Heir, but Michael pretended not to notice. He didn’t care much for this Tylel.

  14

  A cold gale whipped up the white harbor of the port city, Caesarea. The mortals standing on the docks clutched at their cloaks, and a port manager bellowed for his crew to hasten their loading of a ship.

  Impervious to the weather, the Shaityrim warlord Cronus shifted nervously. The black-souled mortal beside him—an auditor from Rhòme named Sabinus—was to be his temporary charge. He’d been sent maintain control of Amanah whilst the emperor Augustus heard the petitions of Hérod’s sons, all of whom wished to be made king of Amanah.

 

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