City of Bones

Chapter Two

The tension the next morning was so thick that Suriel felt as if she could reach out and touch it.

Each Angel stood in alphabetical order shoulder to shoulder, the toes of their boots all touching the thick black line that expanded the length of the room. This morning, there was an extra pair of boots.

The same feeling from the day prior settled atop Suriel’s skin, and she shifted her weight uncomfortably. She wanted to look down either way that the line stretched but did not want to risk being called out by their Instructor; although an Angel, he was merciless when it came to punishment exercises.

“Good morning everyone,” Rizoel’s voice thundered across the room to reach his students.

If Suriel wasn’t mistaken, she could’ve sworn she heard the very same agitation in the retired Guardian Angel’s voice that everyone in the room seemed to be actively displaying.

“Today we will continue with ground sparring,” His broad, ivory colored wings flexed. “There is always the possibility that in war that your enemy will not fight fair as you are expected to. This likihood increases if you are fighting one of the Fallen; if you somehow lose the use of your wings, you will have to fight for your life on the ground. Aerial combat partners will be determined by how you proceed today. As routine, I will select your partners for you based upon skill set and difference in style.”

This was the part that Suriel always dreaded. For a moment, the intense apprehension for the unknown she felt was gone, and she imagined she could feel Temeluch’s hands on her neck; a very real threat.

Rizoel moved on. “But today, before we begin, we have a new student. So, I have a treat for you all; Temeluch. Azrael. Step forward.”

Suriel’s expression twisted in bewilderment.

Temeluch, two people down from her, stepped forward first, his back rigid and facing forward. There was another set of boots that stepped out of line, but Suriel couldn’t see; they were too far down the other end of the line, just out of eyesight without physically moving. Despite the uneasiness she felt, it wasn’t enough to cross Rizoel.

“You two will engage in strictly ground combat. Any extended air time will result in disqualification and you will be assigned clean-up duty. Temeluch,” Rizoel gave the Angel in training a hard look. “Go easy on her, I have not made a proper assessment of her abilities; don’t want her too bruised up before the real training can begin.”

With that, the retired Guardian Angel fell back to the other side of the room opposite the students with a swift flutter of his broad wings, his hand raised in a fist to signify ‘Go.’

The two Angels made their way to the center platform, and Suriel felt the volume of her heartbeat increase behind her eardrums. Her back was to Suriel.

Temeluch, true to his nature, lunged forward first. Suriel could see the muscles in his arm bunch before he moved. His hand had clenched into a fist, now traveling swiftly through the air straight towards the newbie’s face.

Suriel squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to be a witness to the m******e that was about to occur. Temeluch didn’t know how to go easy on someone weaker than him; her bruises were a testament to this, and she didn’t want to see someone else become his new punching bag.

She prepared herself for the sound of flesh hitting flesh, even preemptively flinched, but the sound never came.

A few moments passed, but it was only when she heard a grunt of surprise that her eyes finally snapped open.

Temeluch’s fist had been halted. Azrael had parried the blow, her forearm having taken the brunt of the attack. Her legs widened in a defensive stance before she braced herself, giving Temeluch a shove that sent him back a few steps.

He seemed as shocked as the rest of the class but composed himself sooner. His deep set seemed to glow with a fire that Suriel barely recognized.

From there, it was almost difficult to keep up.

Azrael’s body moved in a graceful dance as she dodged each fist that Temeluch threw, who in turn grew more and more furious. His punches grew more and more sloppy as a result, his smile having vanished.

An eternity passed before Azrael seemed to tire of the cat and mouse game. As Temeluch’s fist battered the area that her head had been seconds prior, she turned her back to him, gripping his forearm over her shoulder.

Suriel watched in awe as she jammed her hip into his mid-section before flipping his entire body over her shoulder, his large frame landing with a solid thud against the hard platform.

Azrael’s booted foot landed heavily on top of the downed Angel’s shoulder, having not even broken a sweat throughout the short fight. Even from where she stood, Suriel could all but feel Temeluch begin to seethe despite being unable to see his face. Before he could retaliate, Rizoel thrust himself between the two, gripping the very same place that Azrael’s boot had been to hold him in place on the ground.

“Control yourself, boy,” He scolded him, his grip tightening.

Pulling him to his feet, the instructor thrusted him towards the exit without another word, being sure that he had left before returning his attention to the class.

Each spine was straightened almost to the point of pain before he spoke again.

“And that, is why one does not allow their emotions to rule their actions,” His expression darkened. “You are all being given the privilege of training; myself and others during the first Great War were not given such opportunities. When a sword is thrust into your hands and you are up against a Fallen or God forbid a demon,” he spat the word, “they will not fight fair. You must know how to defend yourself and to keep a level head.”

The rest of the class passed by excruciatingly; the Angel drove his class into the dirt for Temeluch’s failure, who didn’t return.

Suriel’s lungs felt as if they were going to collapse.

Around her, the low thrum of conversation outside of the locker rooms buzzed in her ears, but she was too exhausted to pay enough attention to attempt at making out the words. Her limbs sagged as she swung her beaten up bag over her shoulder, her wings almost too heavy to hold up. Despite not being subjected to cleaning the Training Hall once more, she was still one of, if not the last one to leave the grounds. She was on her way out, musical notes already weaving themselves into her thoughts when she slammed face first into a hard body, the sudden impact nearly knocking her off her feet.

Her Instructor stood before her, a disappointed look marring his handsome features.

“How many times must I tell you to have your wits about you, Suriel,” He chided her, his lips pursed. “If I had been a Fallen, I could’ve slit your throat just now and moved along as if I’d never been here in the first place.”

Suriel kept her eyes on his scarred, dirt speckled boots rather. She’d heard this lecture hundreds of times since she’d arrived in Luminus, but it never failed to make her shoulders sag in defeat.

He paused for a moment, most likely expecting her to attempt at some sort of defense for herself, and when she was predictably completely silent, he steamrolled on. “I’ve had a word with our newest student. Seeing her skill, I haven’t a doubt that she could whip you into shape in some one on one training. You’ll meet her everyday two hours before class.” Suriel winced at the finality in his voice, quite aware that it wasn’t a request, nor a suggestion.

She didn’t lift her head until she felt Rizoel’s imposing presence fade away.

The trek home was miserable; she didn’t have the energy, nor the courage to make the short journey to the outskirts of the City once more, the fear of the unknown in what was supposed to be her haven enough to keep her away.

She hadn’t the energy to fly home, so as her feet wandered that general direction, her mind seemed to go in the other.

She could not comprehend the arrival of Azrael.

She had arrived at the City’s walls only 39 moons ago, and as far as she knew, she was the newest arrival, not only in her class but in the entire Training Hall. When she had arrived, her mind had been as blank a slate as a newborn child, and as far as she knew, that had been the same for each Angel in training. That meant that she’d barely known how to do anything outside of her basic functions such as flying, and even that was a questionable skill.

Azrael was already able to defeat the class champion without even breaking a sweat. Did she remember the true beginning of her story?

If so, what was it about her that allowed her to do so? The Creator guided each and every Angel to Luminis with a special, careful hand.

Had that very same hand allowed Azrael to keep her memories?