The Ascent of the Angelic Ch. 02

The small unnamed town continued its life as if nothing had happened. While the people walking to and fro would occasionally stop to gawk at the man walking alongside a gallant creature such as an angel, they largely moved on with little interest. A fair amount of the town was made up of older buildings made out of concrete and brick, but newer ones made of wood and scrapped metal sprung up around them. Poles with rubbery strings ran alongside the road. Rhys was aware they had some use decades ago but never bothered committing to heart what that was. In any case they served as perfect perches for the birds.

"You've never spent the time to see the town?" Rhys asked.

"As much as I care for its inhabitants, no. I find it most productive to seek out those who might harm it." Mehira walked alongside him with her arms crossed. He supposed that was the least threatening way she could walk about the town. An angel in motion would inspire the worst in people's minds, perhaps.

"I hope I'm not ruining that, then," Rhys said.

"Only the weaker drivel remains for the time being. Indulging in your wishes is perfectly appropriate. For now."

"I don't suppose you find the town to be charming?"

"Charming, perhaps. More lacking in defense."

Rhys pursed his lips. "Resources aren't as plentiful as we'd like them to be."

"Understandable." Mehira paused. "What is it that you do here in this town?"

"Repairs mostly. Mending clothing, tools and whatnot."

"I can only imagine that leaves you with little time to work at all." She glanced about the place. "I hope your wounds don't prove to be debilitating."

"Edwin tells me they're mostly superficial. There might be some slight scarring, but I should be in good health."

"You are fortunate to have such a steadfast acquaintance such as him. In this pained world, connections appear scarce."

The pair came upon the central area where the battle had taken place hours ago. It felt more like minutes to Rhys. At a crossroads the beast lay dead. Few people still lingered around it, slicing it apart for food. Once picked clean, the farmers would use its picked bones for fertilizer. A gruesome cycle, but it kept the area clean. Not as though anyone else would be up to the task.

"It never felt right eating them," Rhys said. "Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose."

Mehira quietly oversaw the slicing before stepping forward and cleanly ripping a limb off. She let it drop to the ground with a thump. "That will help," she said to the now stunned group. She returned to Rhys' side.

Rhys watched the group cautiously go to work on the limb. "I would have expected you to find it... repulsive to do."

"I cannot judge those who need to live." Mehira stared some more. "Any lingering evil is cast off. It wouldn't bring them any illness. No more than consuming a regular bear would." They returned to their walk.

"Then it really is a bear?" He looked back.

"That is how they cast themselves into this world. The lesser machinations of evil possess lower creatures, warping them. Be eternally grateful you have not seen a stronger force, capable of forming themselves as they please."

Rhys furrowed his brow. The situation was potentially more dire than he had ever expected. He looked back to Mehira who firmly strode on ahead, bringing him back to ease. "You would be able to stop such a thing, correct?"

"I alone? No." Mehira paused. "However, through your faith and strength, I would be able to manage any feat imaginable."

Rhys decided not to ask if she meant humanity as a whole or him specifically. The latter made his life feel all the more meaningful. Surely she meant him. They continued their walk through the town, coming upon what remained of his home. Rhys tried to ignore it as much as he could. Not as though the sorry state of his only home pained him, but rather he didn't want to think of the tedium of reassembling it once again. He wanted to ignore it, but then noticed someone standing outside the wreckage.

"You!" the figure shouted, marching toward the pair.

"That is hardly a formal greeting," Mehira said.

"What are you going to do about this?!" the figure shouted. As they drew closer, Rhys could see they were a young man. A teenager barely breaching adulthood.

"I do apologize for my home being atomized, but I will rebuild it," Rhys said, holding up his hands.

The young man shook his head. "I couldn't care less about your shack." He held up a broken hilt and shattered blade. "You've tarnished the one thing my family could hold onto."

Oh. The sword. That was indeed his fault. Rhys took a step forward. "I'm sorry. It was foolish of me to do that, but I had little choice at that point. The sword was already broken by the time I had laid my hands on it."

"And? Do you plan to repay me in some way?"

Rhys looked to his home, then back to the child. "With what?"

The young man shook his head. "Whatever you plan to do, you had best do it quick. I haven't--" Mehira stepped forward, quickly shutting him up and causing him to step back.

"I apologize on Sir Rhys' behalf, if that will soothe your soul," Mehira replied.

"That's... that's not good enough." His arms lowered.

Mehira stared him down. "Then a replacement will suffice your shattered steel?" She placed a hand on her chest.

"I suppose," he said, struggling to meet her static gaze.

"Then hand this servant of the Lord your heirloom so that I may atone for this grievance." Mehira stuck out her large hand. The teenager placed the broken parts on her palm, whereupon she shut her hand tight. The angel retracted her hand, holding it out to the right. After a few moments, a burning ooze dribbled out of her hand and fell to the ground, where it quickly hardened and cooled into an unrecognizable slag. "And your replacement." As she said that, the group that had huddled around the corpse earlier approached her once again. Mehira's chest glowed brilliantly, and with her free hand she pulled out a heavenly dagger that she quickly held up high. Instantly the scavengers scrambled off in a hurry, cursing under their breath and stumbling over one another.

Mehira glanced back at the retreating group before holding the dagger out. "I pray this blade serves your body and your soul well."

The young man was hesitant, but took the blade.

"Hopefully that makes up for it. Apologies," Rhys says.

The teenager only offered a shaky nod and wandered off, shooting worried looks back at the pair. Angels may have been the norm, but they were still capable of wowing the populace.

"Thank you yet again, Mehira." There was a freshness to speaking an angel's name, or perhaps only their title. It was possible they had no names whatsoever. "You've saved my life and now what little wealth I still have to my name."

"That is our role. You have no need to thank me." Not an expression to her face, but Rhys could almost feel a warm smile radiating from her. "Such a novelty requires little effort. I am sure he will be pleased. And for you." She held out her hand. In it was a reformed sword, still glowing hotly, although slightly bent. "Excuse me." Mehira corrected the flaw. "There we are."

"Why for me?" Rhys asked. "Wouldn't he be more deserving of it?"

"I do not believe he'll make much use of it. You on the other hand have already made use of it."

"What of his father, though?" Rhys said, staring at the weapon.

Mehira placed a hand on his shoulder and presented him with the weapon. "He had already fought well, and will be rewarded. Consider the dagger a new heirloom. You may keep this one."

Rhys took hold of the blade. It felt lighter than before. "I had thought you melted it down," he said, motioning to the mess of slag.

"I had melted out the imperfections it took on. The taint it pulled from the beast."

"Oh." Rhys turned the blade over in his hand carefully. The first blade he owned, or had been given for that matter. "I had better set this aside for now." Lest anyone get the wrong idea.

"Naturally."

Rhys walked into the wreckage of his abode, then set the sword down on what was probably a table, then walked back to Mehira's side. "I have no need to thank and yet I will. That is our role as humans, spreading joy. Not that it would seem that way most of the time," Rhys said, sizing up the scraps of his home.

Mehira joined in his gazing. "You do bring us joy. Continuing to indulge in the gift of life despite what the world has become." Mehira crushed the corrupted slag underfoot. "I would be envious were I not so committed to my mission."

"I don't suppose you would like to continue our small tour?" Rhys said, presenting the rest of the town. He looked back at it. "Not as though there's much to show. I'm sure you've seen it on your righteous brigades."

"From a distance. Mingling with the inner-workings, however minimal, is new."

"Suppose we'll continue onto the outskirts--"

"Pardon my intrusion, but this is your abode, is it not?"

Rhys nodded. "What remains of it."

"Where do you intend to sleep? Not in the tattered wreckage of your nest, I hope?"

"No, no." Rhys shook his head. "I'll take my night in one of the smaller camps. Should be a good place to barter as well." Provided that he could barter with those torched arms of his.

Mehira looked to him. "If that is what you must do."

"We'll finish the rest of the tour before nightfall, I suppose. Should be exciting," Rhys said, putting on his best smile.

The rest of the town wasn't as picturesque as the middle of it. Battered buildings, wreckages, and piles of unusable or unwanted things began cropping up. Humanity wasn't absent from this area, however. People still went about their day as best they could, trading, conversing, living, and being. "The dwellers do not appear as interested in me as they were before," Mehira said.

"They're more used to seeing the angelic about," Rhys replied. As odd as that seemed. The divine had become commonplace. "Being on the outskirts, they're the first to be hit."

"Understandable. I imagine they are less than enthused of an angel in their wake, showing the worst may yet come." She looked about the area. "What decides whether or not you live near the heart of this settlement?"

"Just a matter of first come first serve. Some of these persons are from other settlements that failed."

"Failed? Failed how?"

"Sometimes for food, other times from attacks." Rhys realized how dreary that seemed. "It's not as though that happens very often."

"I thank you for the attempt at soothing my soul. I do not plan to fail." Those words helped to ease Rhys more. While it might not have been wise to attach himself to an angel, even as distant as it was, he found more hope in Mehira than he had ever done before. "You are positively glowing. Have I cheered you in some way?" A smile peered through her voice. Suddenly she snapped away and her wings raised.

"Something wrong?" Rhys asked. He quickly followed her gaze down the road to a larger figure. Were it not for the glowing white sheen of their armor, Rhys would've assumed they were some sort of demon. A wide set of armor marched down the road, flanked by two smaller figures carrying pole arms. Small in the sense that they were dwarfed by the beast between them. In reality, they were nearly as tall as Mehira herself. "I don't suppose they are also here to tour our humble home?"

"I highly doubt that would be the case," Mehira said. She stood her ground, so Rhys decided that would be the best decision. After all, he had helped to kill a horrible beast, so what could possibly be any worse, right? The group drew closer, causing a few of the pedestrians to scatter away as casually as possible. Rhys' determination lessened, but he wasn't about to leave his savior's side. The larger figure became clearer with every large stomp. They were the very essence of a knight, only adorned in a gaudy gold trimming running along all of its pieces. Something of a face sat atop its neck, vaguely resembling the ebb and flow of human features, but only bore two blank eyes. Two halos adorned the space above. One a flaming ring, the other a circle of eyes that flittered every which way. It was angelic. And wholly terrifying.

"Mehira," the large figure said. "A gracious welcome to our sacred grounds." There was a hollow boom to its words that rang through Rhys.

"Prosa," Mehira replied with a bow of the head and a flex of the wings. "My thanks for the allowance onto them. It has been a far greater experience than my soul would have dreamt."

Rhys looked to the guards around Prosa. They were similarly gaudy, and markedly thinner. They lacked the angelic halos, but did sport an impressive four wings that were constantly unfurled. Their heads were entirely blank, making them far more eerie than their large escort. The man felt as though he should greet his saviors, but his tongue refused to move. He wasn't sure if the creatures they fought felt fear. If not, the only creatures they intimidated were humans.

"What brings the protected to your side, Mehira?" Prosa asked. It didn't move to look at Rhys, yet he could feel a million eyes on him all the same.

Mehira extended a wing behind Rhys, affording him some relaxation. "Rhys, one of the flock, has offered to show the sights of his humble settlement. I would consider it quite eye opening."

"Is that what you find to be most prudent at the moment?" Prosa replied.

"With the destruction of sin and the conquest at one of the centers, yes, I find it extremely prudent to familiarize myself with the sea of souls we reside in."

Prosa's eyes came to an instant stop before spinning up once again. "You may be able to sense the arrival of sin, but do not underestimate their desire to seep into the cracks of the living." Prosa paused. "It is good to see you, Rhys. Go with God in everything you do." Rhys nodded. His arms began to tingle, almost burning. "Good."

Mehira quickly pulled the human aside, allowing Prosa and the two silent sentinels pass on by without another word. As they left, Rhys spotted the faces of different animals adorning their wings, including one human. Rhys and Mehira watched the small troop until they were out of sight. The hustle and bustle of the area quickly returned afterward as if nothing had happened.

"Are you at ease, Rhys?" Mehira asked.

"Not entirely at the moment," Rhys replied. His gaze still lingered on where he had last seen Prosa. "Couldn't you have seen how I felt?"

"Naturally, however it is far more appropriate to speak to you directly."

Rhys relaxed and brought his eyes back to Mehira. "Well, thank you. I hope he didn't notice that himself." He didn't need one of the saviors questioning their conviction to saving a people who are afraid of them.

"Prosa may be able to see your innermost being, but he is not well versed in the feelings of the living. See to his intimidating form and how it brings little comfort to those we protect."

"You mean to say he chose that?" Rhys furrowed his brow.

"Armor is fit to our souls, as produced by the cherubim that travel alongside him." With the feminine touches to Mehira's armor, Rhys had to wonder just how much of her armor was chosen by her. Right, don't linger on that. "You appear tired, shall we move to one of the camps now?" The tingling in his arms flared up to a light pain. "Rhys?"

"I'm fine." Rhys shook his arms. "Arms just feeling off." They flared up harder. "Perhaps too off," he said with a hiss.

"Off is an odd way to explain agony."

"I'm fine."

Mehira reached down.

"No, really, I'm fine, Mehira," he said.

She grasped his shoulders and easily picked him up. Her other arms pulled free and carefully manipulated him into a cradling position. Rhys should have been embarrassed. He couldn't be, her embrace was all too comforting, enough to take his mind off the pain rising in his arms.

"It's quite impressive how disinterested you are in your well-being."

"That's normal for men, believe me."

"I do believe you. However, at the same time I do believe you're experiencing a higher level of disdain than most." Her arms moved into position to best support his back. "Pray, and while you do so, I will be your carriage." Rhys' felt light, and he soon realized they were floating off the ground.

"No levitation, for one," Rhys said, huffing.

Mehira looked to him and landed back down, bringing Rhys' insides much needed relief. "I assumed it would bring much comfort." Rhys was surprised to find a soft breath caress his skin, rousing goosebumps on him. What truly lay under her helmet?

Rhys looked to the people around him, who were now taking on an intense interest in the angel and the poor sap she held. Now he could be embarrassed. "Please keep walking," he said.

"If you so desire. Is the camp in that direction?"

"Somewhere around there." Though anywhere was better than here.

"Tell me, Rhys," Mehira began as she trudged through the less inhabited parts of the town, "where is the rest of your lineage?"

"They're far gone."

"To another settlement?"

"Deceased."

Mehira's gait slowed. "I apologize. I had assumed at your age, you may have a plentiful family."

"Edwin is probably as close to a family as I have now. Otherwise, just me."

"Then you must hold him close."

"He might have a few qualms about that," Rhys replied. The holding close part, that is, at his age. "I don't suppose you have a family?"

"I doubt you will take humanity as answer for a family, correct?"

Rhys shook his head. "I don't think you would want us as family after what we've done to ourselves."

"Then I suppose I, as an angelic creature have a Father, along with brothers and sisters."

"Who is your fa-- Oh, right." Rhys pursed his lips. "Then Prosa would be a brother?"

"In a manner of speaking. While my time in the kingdom was not spent communicating with him, he is technically a part of my family."

"His um, partners too?"

"The cherubim? I do not particularly understand them myself. They report to the Lord directly, and thus, rarely make contact with us lower angels."

"I wouldn't describe you as a lower angel at all." Rhys shook his head. "Certainly not compared to those things."

"They are protectors all the same," Mehira said with a nod.

"And you mean to say they are higher status than even Prosa?"

"That would be correct. I only pray their presence here is not of any serious consequence or reason." Rhys silently hoped for the same. As much turmoil as his life had already seen, knowing that something far worse could be around the corner made everything all the more dreary. He doubted a suicidal attack with a sword would work twice, as disappointing as that thought was. Though now, staying alive didn't seem so bad. Rhys stole glances at Mehira.

Mehira was still as elaborately designed as ever. At this close distance, he noticed all the finer details on her armor. Little patternings and script along the hems of individual pieces. They shimmered underneath her brilliant halo that, while not actively burning at that moment, softly glowed at all times. Despite there being apparent separate pieces to Mehira's armor, any gaps were hidden away with some dark golden mesh. That didn't stop Rhys from trying to imagine what Mehira looked like underneath. All of the angels he had ever seen were similarly hidden and armored, unless Prosa's unsettling visage was truly his face, in which case, something odd might yet lie under Mehira's mask.

"You mentioned that Edwin is your closest family on this Earth," Mehira said, shattering Rhys' silent focus.

Rhys immediately shifted his head back to the road. "About as close as possible, I would say."

"No offspring you've given life to?"

"I would say not, no." Rhys crossed his arms.

"And why would that be?"