Overcomer - The Battle - Judy Colella (best love novels of all time .TXT) 📗

The Archangel frowned, hesitating only a moment before speaking of Cian’s suicide attempts. These had been prompted by his foster family’s almost non-stop barrage of hatred-filled suggestions that he was so worthless, he ought to kill himself. Eventually, Cian had been convinced that they were right. Perversely, every time the boy tried to kill himself, they’d stop him and finally decided to tie him up so he couldn’t succeed in the very thing they were telling him to do. “Cian, the fact that you succumbed to the final evil suggestion to end your life,” he explained, “merely says that you’d been broken down completely. Yet somehow, when rescued from yourself by the very ones who would have seen you destroyed, you took that opportunity to rebuild yourself, your mind and your heart. That is why you now have the strength to withstand your past; after the second time you attempted to die, what remained of the little abused boy ceased to be. You slowly became someone else, and the day you realized you’d been lied to about so many things, was the day you were Unacceptable no longer.

“You have made great strides in finally accepting yourself again, and are – for the most part – Cian MacDara once more. And because of this, you have been able to gather unto yourself true friends, of which Celesta and I would like to count ourselves if you’ll have us.” He smiled, brows raised, questioning.

Stunned by the magnitude of this request, Cian could only nod.

“Thank you, my friend. We will have many other times in the future in which to fellowship together. Now, as for what you call ‘hatred,’ you needn’t fear what you feel. It is not hatred. I have been shown enough of your heart to see that there is no capacity for that emotion in it. It is only great anger, and that, young man, is understandable.

“Finally, I have to tell you that if you’d not confessed to fear about facing that most fearsome being, I would have taken back that sword and sent you off to the Keeper for further instruction. All that remains is to teach you how to understand and conquer that fear, and turn it into a healthy respect which will prevent you from making any mistakes in the upcoming battle.”

The Archangel leaned down and put his hand on Cian’s head, whispering something the boy didn’t understand. When he stepped back, he told Cian to stand up, his expression slightly fiercer. “We are now going to have some good, old-fashioned sword practice.” He drew the Sword of Light from its scabbard.

Closing his eyes, Cian turned his head away, but unlike the last time, no blinding light pierced his lids. He opened his eyes, facing the angel, and saw what looked like a perfectly normal, if incredibly beautiful, sword in the being’s right hand. “How – ?”

“I have blessed your eyes as promised,” Michael explained. “You can now be in the presence of the Sword unsheathed and not be affected adversely by its light. Others, however, do not have this ability.” He nodded over his shoulder to the group by the stone. “Celesta will have to protect them with a kind of barrier.”

Cian turned and saw Katie, Celeste and Croghan standing with their backs to him and Michael, heads down and hands over their eyes. Celesta, of course, only smiled at them, her sapphire eyes glinting brightly with the Sword’s reflected brilliance as she continued to stroke the harp.

“Parry!” Michael shouted, and Cian, nearly taken off guard, quickly raised his sword to block the other as his lesson resumed.

Because he felt no fatigue in this place, he had no sense of how long they engaged each other, only that eventually he was feeling far more confident, and was able to meet every challenge, block every stroke, anticipate every charge; no feint confounded him, and while his stance was consistently one of defense, he knew he could change up to offense in a heartbeat.

At last, Michael put up the Sword in salute, effectively ending the session. Cian bowed to him, grateful for the angel’s graciousness in allowing him to fight without being humiliated by what he was sure was the other’s greater skill.

“You could not defeat me, Cian MacDara,” said Michael, confirming the boy’s thoughts, but in the next breath said, “but neither could I defeat you. Impressive.”

Cian was dumbfounded. He was about as sure as he could be that angels didn’t lie, so did this mean he was truly a good swordsman, and not as inadequate as he had thought himself to be?

Michael laughed. “Don’t look so surprised, boy. When we began, I could have overcome you, if not easily, most certainly. But now – ah, I see you have no idea how long we’ve been sparring.”

“Uh, no. How long?”

He slid the Sword back into its scabbard and put out his hand for Cian’s, which he then replaced as well. As soon as he did, the hill returned to its former size and they were standing in front of Celesta. “Keeper,” said the Archangel, “how long would you say we’ve been at the boy’s lesson?”

“Long enough for Celeste to have learned the remaining three hundred and forty-nine songs,” he replied, smiling at the girl who was sitting on the ground at Celesta’s feet.

Cian looked at her curiously. “You really learned that many songs?”

She nodded, unsure of her voice. Celesta had put some sort of transparent barrier between them and the sparring pair so they could watch without being blinded by the Sword. Celeste had been watching him and Michael for quite a while now, and was totally awed by Cian’s skill and grace. She’d had no idea he could do something like that.

Katie was as deeply awe-struck by Cian as Celeste, but not so in love with him as to be incapable of speech. “I’d say we’ve been here the equivalent of about, oh, three months or so?”

“Very good!” said Croghan, impressed. “A little closer to four, though.”

“What?!” Cian absolutely hadn’t expected that. “How can that be?”

“What did I tell you all about the Hub?” asked the Keeper gently, appreciating the boy’s sense of shock. “And you, Cian, have been here several times before and certainly should have known the answer.”

“Yes – it exists outside of Time. I get it, but it’s still a bit…weird.”

“So what now, Michael?” Croghan looked up at the Archangel.

“Now you take these young people back to their homes, and later in their tomorrow, bring them here for their final time of learning. Both Cian and Celeste must more fully understand the nature of the Sword so that he can fight and she can help him.”

“Am I included in this?” Katie asked nervously. She had no intention of being left out, but doubted the wisdom of defying an Archangel, especially this one.

“Of course.” He gave her a kind smile. “You must also understand so you can help your friend to stay strong. That is your purpose as the Attendant.”

Relieved, Katie smiled. “Way cool – thank you!” No sooner had the words of gratitude left her mouth than the shimmer of light and color engulfed his magnificent form, and he disappeared from before their eyes.

“I do believe,” said the Keeper, “school is out.”

Michael, Celesta, and the Keeper stood silent on the hill. Celesta did not need to play her harp, nor was any music necessary when Michael was present – evil would not dare approach when he was there, unless it wanted to be instantly banished, and even the more distant reaches of the pathways were unusually free of their vile encroachments. The Keeper had returned from taking the children back to their homes on Earth, and now they were pondering what would happen next.

“This is going to be rough on them, isn’t it,” said the Keeper – it wasn’t a question. The two angels knew the outcome, but could not tell him all of what would be. For while he had ceased being completely human a long time ago, enough of him still retained emotions that would get in the way and cause serious problems.

“It will,” Celesta confirmed, but gave no details.

“Keeper, have you prepared the place where they will meet the enemy?” Michael asked.

“I have. I’m not very happy about where it is, by the way.” The Keeper sighed. The Hub, of course, was out of the question – Moloch’s name was not even allowed to be mentioned here, much less his actual presence. So they had agreed to bring Cian and the girls to another place, one that was considered neutral on both sides of the spiritual fence, so to speak. It was located through a portal in Scotland, and was a strange place that the Keeper never felt at ease about using. Its name was Uamh-Binn, a Gaelic word meaning “cave of melody.” It sounded very nice, but some odd things had gone on in there, mainly because of its use by evil as well as by good.

Interestingly enough, it was also associated with Ireland because it was later named after Fionn mac Cumhaill, or Finn MacCool in the modern vernacular. There was a legend about him having built a causeway in Northern Ireland across which he was to travel in order to do battle with a Scottish giant who lived in this cave. One version of the legend said MacCool fell asleep, so his wife covered him with a blanket to make him look like a baby, and when the giant came across to meet him, he was told that Finn was his own infant. The giant, thinking that if the baby was that size, the father must be gigantic indeed, became terrified and ran back to Scotland, tearing up the causeway behind him so Finn couldn’t cross.

Croghan rather liked that story. However, the cave itself, composed of the same volcanic basalt pillars as the Causeway, was an eerie place. One could reach it from the top of the uninhabited island of Staffa, but the best way was by small boat into one of its mouth-like openings. The more modern name of the place was Fingal’s Cave, and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

What also disturbed him was how commercial it had become. In an earlier era, a composer named Mendelssohn had written a rather lovely piece of music called “Fingal’s Cave Overture” after visiting it and experiencing the weird echoes inside. Because of this, people had become curious, and before long, were all over the island and passing by in boats to take part in touring the place. This meant, of course, that he’d have to see about renting his own boat and going there at a time when tourist trips past the cave’s mouth were done for the day.

“What are you thinking?” asked Michael, watching the man’s ruminations.

“About the logistics of getting in there,” replied the Keeper. Another silence ensued, until finally the Keeper asked, “Have we done enough to prepare them, Michael?”

“Our next session will tell us that.” The Archangel’s response was unemotional.

“You know I’m worried about them.”

“I do.”

“And you’re not? Either one of you?”

“We know the outcome,” Celesta reminded him. “There’s no point in worrying. What will happen is what will happen, regardless of how we might be feeling.”

He