Penemue Awakens

Penemue gradually realized he wasn’t dreaming. The sound of cracking thunder jolted his eyes open. Overhead were low clouds that billowed and churned like living dirty smoke. They hovered in place and were embedded with explosive flashes that glowed for long seconds. The flashes fed a steady thunder that rumbled through the morning air. Around him, long keen shadows stretched away from a blood-red sun. The light pierced a narrow crack between the clouds and the horizon. He was dazed and exhausted but already his instincts were telling him to get out of sight. “This isn’t over yet,” Penemue thought. Looking around, he noticed a deformed and stunted bush growing out of a distant cliff wall. “Perfect, he thought. When the next wave of fighting sweeps through this valley, I’ll be safe up there.” He tried to get on his feet but his legs were still too weak to stand. The best he could do was to raise himself up on the flat of his forearm. Panting for air and reeling with nausea, he saw what remained of his companions
The once fierce horde lay strewn in mud and rocks. Their bodies, weapons and armor were all scattered and partially buried in the slurry of red mud. Some of them were moving faintly. Most lay motionless where they fell. His arm began sinking into the glue-like mud again and it made a sucking sound as he worked to pull it free. “I’ve got to get out of here now,” he wheezed to himself roughly. He knew more trouble was coming. It was then that fear struck his heart. The only lifeless bodies he saw were those of his comrades! Panic took his soul. The words “did we lose?” played themselves over in his head. Fear and apprehension drove him on as he toiled to get free of the relentless ooze that seemed determined to swallow him. Caked with heavy mud, he stumbled upright and tried to extend his wings. Their weight toppled him backward and he landed head submerged in a deep mix of cold thick water. He needed air and struggled to dislodge his head from the pasty muck. As he began to weaken and smother, he abruptly felt himself being pulled free. A natural reflex made him pinch his eyes shut in order to keep the suction from pulling them out of their sockets. Light streaked by his vision and air burst into his lungs. Garbled chatter settled into “…pull yourself together you worthless vermin.” “Great,” -it was Samyaza, thought Penemue as he felt himself being tossed to a mound of mud. “What a useless herd of cattle, the archangel bellowed. Not one of you is fit to stand by my side. I regret allowing any of you to join my ranks! Get up and form a line,” he barked as he extracted body after body from the mud and flung them to higher ground. In one hand he carried an ornate spear which he used to stab at startled enemy combatants. They would squirm and flop to avoid his spear. Arrogantly they teamed up and started throwing large wads of mud in his face. Others fluttered around him kicking and ramming him until he lost his balance and splashed down into the slimy liquid. Samyaza rose gagging up dirty water as he fingered globs of mud from his eyes. Violently, he swung his spear through empty air while roaring with the wrath of vengeance. Only faint cackling laughter could be heard as his tormentors turned and soared from the field.

With his breath stabilizing, Penemue thought “So that’s the great Samyaza. The coolest of angels and the one I idolized and chose to follow!” His heart sank as the wisdom of his choice became clear. Abruptly, his brooding was interrupted with the sound of “are you alright, Penemue?” It was a welcome voice. Gadriel, or “Gaddy” as he was called, was working his way towards him through the pasty earth. “What shall we do, sir? How should we deploy?” clamored his excited friend. “Where are the guards? Who will fill our line?” His blabbering was reaching a feverish pace. “They’re all gone. We’re beaten,” rasped Penemue. Gaddy stared into his eyes with a forlorn look of resignation. “At last -he’s quiet,” mulled Penemue. “Come, we must collect ourselves and leave before the end finds us here! Gather all who are fit and order them to flee! Leave everything and get out of this valley now.”
“What of Samyaza? He will bring his power to bear on any who flee from his host, pleaded Gadriel.” “It’s not Samyaza we need to worry about any more,” replied Penemue in a defeated voice. Without blinking, Gaddy’s eyes locked on his companion’s face. In that moment they both knew what they had done. He nodded weakly and turned to find the others.
A small group of comrades had staggered around. Penemue surveyed the lot and said “Go now,” in a voice so commanding it surprised even him, “those who hesitate will truly be lost. Do not linger because our peace is short,” he commanded, “find cover and remove yourselves from this field.”
With that, Penemue jumped into the center of a large puddle. The water rinsed some of the mud from his wings and body. With great effort he climbed from the water and flexed his powerful wings to throw the remaining water from his feathers. It was good to feel the ground leave his feet as he rose to hover over his companions. “Make haste or be consumed,” he warned. With heavy and painful strokes he winged his way into the air and turned for the sickly bush he had seen earlier. It seemed very far away. Never before had Penemue felt such a strain and he began to doubt if he had the strength to remain aloft. Even though he was beating his wings with all his might, the bush didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Then a blessed breeze welled up under him and he was able to soar with the current. He knew he was too weak to stall his flight for a graceful landing so he flew full-glide into the twisted branches. His reward was more pain with desperate clutching and scratching to gain a hold on the wet bark. With a dizzy surge he managed to fling himself on the trunk and lay there wheezing with wings and arms dangling limply on either side. After some time, he heard a chillingly familiar sound. It was the distant rhythm of a thousand drums. They beat a slow cadence and seemed to get slightly louder with every passing minute. From the same direction he could see the glinting reflections of polished spears and shields. He needed to hide. With a numb resolve he tucked himself deep into the twisted roots at the base of the tree. There he covered himself with the small branches and leaves that grew around the base. The drums were getting louder and now he could make out a strange white glow that towered above the advancing columns. He pulled more branches around him and squeezed himself deeper into the cover of the leaves.

Below him, he saw angels glide low to the ground in groups of five or more. Silently they moved in perfect formation until two or three would suddenly dive on some unseen opponent. They did not flutter or deviate from their targets. Without fail they would drag their prey from concealment and bind them with chains leaving them on the ground in plain sight and move on to continue the hunt. Behind a large ridge of stone, it was clear that an intense brawl was taking place. All the free angels in the area converged there to take part in the action. Soon it went quiet and they emerged dragging their captive behind them. They moved to a small dry plateau and kicked the previous victims to the ground below. There they drove a massive oak pillar into the ground and fitted it with a thick band of iron and attached two huge rings. Rolling their captive on his stomach, they drug him feet first up to the pillar and shackled each ankle to a ring. It was Samyaza. They left him there face down, cursing and beating the ground with his fists.
This continued for about an hour. Occasionally and without warning a hunter angel would streak by Penemue’s hiding spot. The noise would startle Penemue into gripping the roots tightly while the wind would rob him of his precious cover of leaves. When the advance reached the pillar where Samyaza lay shackled, the drums stopped and the formation stood silent. Muffled thunder and the distant obscenities of Samyaza were the only sounds that could be heard. Suddenly two figures stood in front of the formation. Penemue needed no introduction. Even from this great distance he knew they were Michael and Raphael.
Raphael slowly walked up to the flopping Samyaza and it appeared that they were having words. Michael walked past them both and surveyed the chained captives that littered the devastated ground. At times he would stop and appear to speak to one or the other. Then he would move on. Penemue held his breath and remained absolutely motionless in his nest of leaves and branches. “He has not seen me,” he hoped “and perhaps he will pass me by.” Michael continued to walk down through the center of the valley until he came abreast of the bush that concealed Penemue. There he turned and faced the bush. Penemue was frozen.
Two hunter angels appeared out of nowhere and plucked the entire tree from its ground as if pulling a weed. Penemue tumbled out of his nest and fell to the ground below with a crumpled thud. He was about to run when the bush fell on him and the universe began to spin around him. Helpless and disorientated, he caught glimpses of Michael approaching him. He heard him say: “My Lord has ordered me not to take you away.” Everything went black.
He opened his eyes and stood up without effort. There were no clouds anywhere and the sun was bright and hot on his skin. He was in an endless field of knee-high grass that swelled and shimmered in the sunlit breeze. A single drop of water splashed on his cheek bone. For the first time he felt separate and alone.