Square Peg
By Royce Day
Michael touched his hand to the Soldier’s
forehead. The soul was still
unconscious, absorbing the trauma of her final moments before being admitted to
her final reward. But she was healing,
Novalis’ nurses had assured him of that.
Fifteen is too
young to have fallen in the War, he thought.
Would that you have had many more
years before meeting your Destiny. But
there was a Sorcerer's Circle lying dead in the corporeal world thanks to her
selfless acts, so he had no right to complain.
He spoke briefly with a few of the conscious
Soldiers recovering from their wounds in the main ward, and then made his way
to the Hospital’s gate, where Novalis waited for him.
“Everything satisfactory?” she asked.
“Yes, Novalis,” he replied politely. He’d been half expecting her to rip into him
when that latest small casualty in the War showed up, but she had not, perhaps
recognizing that trying to stop the young Soldier from meeting her Destiny
would have only risked her falling into her Fate. “The War goes on.”
“And on, and on...” Novalis replied, but the words
were ritual, without any rebuke behind them.
She smiled. “Care to walk in the
Glade? You look like you need it.”
“Gladly.”
The particular section she led him into overlooked
the Hospital itself. A winding path
defined by terraced flowerbeds led up to the top of a conical hill. The view was, of course, relaxing, and they
were not the only ones to partake in it.
A young man in his early twenties was sitting at an easel, painting a
study of the Hospital grounds. Beside
him was a young girl in a mid 20th-century dress. She was looking over his shoulder as he created the scene, making
the occasional encouraging noise.
Michael studied the souls with mild interest. Well, more than mild. The young girl was about the same age as the
soldier he had visited, and they also shared some features, though the girl’s
expression was far more carefree. The
young man looked - familiar - in a way that sent alarms through the Archangel’s
brain. He was by no means handsome,
being short of stature, with greasy black hair, dark eyes, and an unshaven
face. But there was an intensity there
that was arresting. Perhaps it was the
perceived age that was fooling him. The
archangel tried to imagine that face looking older, more lined -
- with a mustache...
Michael’s sword was halfway out of its sheath before
Novalis’ fingers clamped down on his right hand. He turned towards the gentle Cherub and saw that her eyes were
blazing.
“You will not
violate the Glade’s peace, most especially
this close to the Hospital, Michael,” she whispered fiercely. “Sheath your sword now or be banned from my domain.”
“Do you know who that is, Novalis?” he shot back, keeping his voice in the same low tone
only through great effort. “Why is he here?
Anywhere in Heaven?”
“I know perfectly well who he is,” she replied. “He is here under my personal protection,
for reasons that ought to be obvious.
Now sheath your sword.”
He shoved his sword home and tore free of Novalis’
grip. “Explain yourself or so help me
I’ll call you out to the Hyena.”
“Dominique already knows, and approves, however
reluctantly,” she said, and Michael saw the Truth in her words.
“And Yves?” he countered.
“Yves was the one who escorted him here in the first
place.”
Michael could only shake his head in confusion. “Why?”
The anger faded from Novalis’ eyes, replaced by her
usual calm. “For the same reason any
soul comes to Heaven. Because he
managed to meet his Destiny before his Fate.”
He snorted.
“I wish I were human so I could accuse you of joking. I thought his Destiny was to be a bad
landscape painter.”
“No, his Destiny was to serve as a uniting force for
the world and insure a half-century of relative peace. The alliances formed to oppose him also
served to stabilize the Earth into two mega-factions, both with sufficient
strength to prevent the possibility of another global conflict from starting
until the human race gained sufficient maturity (I see that look in your eyes,
stop it) to realize the consequences if they fired off their nukes
willy-nilly.”
“Truth,” he was forced to admit. “Truth indeed. So for his unpardonable deeds he gains a place here, because he
encourage virtue in others.” Michael
shook his head. “I think this is a case
where I must leave true understanding to the ineffable.”
“Indeed,” Novalis agreed. “If it’s any consolation, he doesn’t venture much from the
Glade. To put it mildly, there are many
people, and even a few angels, who would be tempted to soul kill him on
principle’s sake, even if it risked them Falling. But at least his personality has improved quite a bit in the past
few decades.”
“Oh?”
Novalis smiled.
“Yes. I think Miss Frank has
been quite good for him, don’t you think?”
Author’s
Note: Yes this story is most definitely
Heretical, and I understand completely that many, many people have every right
to be horribly offended by it. My
apologies to you all. This was just
something that popped into my head and had
to write down.
Editor's Note:
To anybody thinking of throwing brickbats... do note that I'm cheerfully
hosting this one on my website, eh?