feel they’re part of things again. Perhaps the other surviving religions could do the same. There’s a long human tradition of the Church Militant after all, and who amongst us has not gone down into the dungeons of Moria as a mace-swinging cleric?”
A guffaw of laughter swept the conference room. Eventually, Obama wiped his eyes and picked up the discussion. “Very well then, I propose that we support the Pope’s suggestion at Yamantau. After all, even if the troops aren’t that good for much, I’m sure Dave Petraeus can find a use for them. Even if they are all armed like the Swiss Guards.”
There was another eruption of laughter. General Casey shook his head, “Actually Sir, it’s a war crime to use Swiss pikemen as mercenaries. Been that way for centuries. But I doubt if we’d find much use for pikes in today’s battles.”
College of Revised History, Phelan Plain, Hell
“So, the strength of the Phalanx was dependent on each man bearing his part. Any weakness in one gravely weakened the strength of the whole. That was why training was so rigorous and started so early. Every man had to trust every other and that meant they had to have a common background. Shared experience, shared knowledge made for a strong phalanx and that meant victory. I believe it is the same today even though modern weapons are so different from ours.”
“Thank you Aeneas. That was a fascinating insight into the thinking of society and the strategy that lay behind the cultural features of Sparta. I think I speak for us all in saying that we wait with the greatest anticipation for your next presentation.”
The round of applause shook the classroom walls. Aeneas nodded briefly in response and left, trying hard to hide his resentment at being relegated to the roll of a teacher. As he walked down the corridor, he bumped into a very familiar figure.
“Ori, how are you old comrade.”
“Bored and frustrated. And you?”
“Much the same. I understand why the today-people want to learn the truth about their past but why choose us to teach it? There must be many by now who can do better than us.”
“Perhaps not, there are many who have been rescued but to find those who have worthwhile knowledge to pass on? Perhaps not so many.” Ori glanced around. “But if you are truly sick of speaking to these numbskulls, perhaps there is somebody you should meet.”
Ori led the way into the College canteen. A man, wearing the red-and-gray fatigues of the Human Expeditionary Army was sitting at a table, obviously waiting for the samurai. Ori gave him a wave and then introduced Aeneas to the stranger.
“And this is Sergeant Gray Anderson of the First Mechanized Infantry battalion, (Demonic).”
Aeneas picked up on the unit name immediately. “You mean the today-people are training daemons to fight with our weapons.” His voice was a hiss of disapproval.
“We are. Although only in a way. Single-shot rifles and lightly armed infantry fighting vehicles only, no artillery, no tanks, no missiles.”
“Why?” Anger bubbled under the disapproval.
“Because today-people are in short supply. We have barely enough to keep the units we have up to strength, expanding the army further is hard. So, we’re experimenting with training demons and recruiting the deceased, especially ex-soldiers, into the ranks.
“What do you mean ‘we’. You’re dead like us.”
“I am, but I died quite recently. Never went through Hell.”
“If you had, you would be less keen to see guns in the hands of demons.”
“We’re going to see that anyway. They’ll get guns, somehow. Everybody who wants them can get them, that never changes. The only question is whether the ones we can trust get them first. Perhaps trust is a bad word there. Mistrust less if that makes you feel easier.
It didn’t. Aeneas still remembered what had been done to him in the pits, and that his wife and children were still out there, suffering.
“Aeneas, Gray has a proposition we might like to hear.” Ori spoke quietly, he’d been as shocked as Aeneas at the initial idea of training Daemons to fight as humans but he’d had time to get used to it.
“It goes like this. We’re training daemons to fight like humans. It’s not just shooting although that’s a problem. Most daemons shoot like the A-team.” Aeneas was confused. Gray grinned at him. “Shoot all day, never actually hit anybody.”
“How can Ori and I help, we’re not gunmen.”
“But you are soldiers. I listened to your speech in there about teaching people to fight as units. That’s what daemons don’t do and breaking them of the individual-hero mindset is a real problem. There’s a whole lot of pre- military training to be done and you two seem good candidates. You can learn to shoot at the same time. Of course, if you want to stay here and teach historians…. “
It wasn’t a decision. Ori and Aeneas looked at each other and their reply was perfectly timed. “When do we start?”
Chapter Twenty Eight
Hills South of Barona, Southern California, USA
Uriel looked skywards and cursed. The aircraft were up there again, circling, methodically and patiently searching for him. It wasn’t the fast ones that were the problem. He could hear them coming and ease his battered body into cover. It was the small, slow ones that were causing him grief. They flew down low, methodically checking out the valleys and ridgelines. Despite their bright colors, they were hard to see until it was too late. They would pop up over a ridgeline before he could respond and it had only been a matter of good fortune that he hadn’t been seen by one of them.
The worst thing about the small aircraft wasn’t that they were so hard to evade. It was that they meant the humans were close. If Uriel listened very carefully, he could hear sounds of their approach. The roar of their vehicle engines, sometimes the sound of shots as a suspicious object was raked with gunfire. It wasn’t a good time to be something that might look like a wounded angel when this hunt was underway. If he listened really carefully, Uriel could hear the baying noise that chilled his blood. Humans had brought their dogs along to help with the hunt. He had little doubt that it was the dogs that were doing the tracking. Dogs to track, humans to kill, it was a deadly combination and one that was forcing Uriel to run for his life.
He listened very carefully, acutely aware that the humans had come close to blinding him with their missiles. One of his eyes still wasn’t working, the other gave only blurred vision. It was clearing slowly but even with the ability of angels to recuperate from near mortal wounds, his injuries were crippling. Yes, he could hear the baying of the dogs echoing through the canyons. The enthusiasm evident in the sound was worse than the threat it conveyed. The dogs were thoroughly enjoying themselves. They were pleasing their human partners, that was some of it. But, wrapped up in the enjoyment and the pride in performing a task that the humans couldn’t was pure, cold hate. The dogs hated him, to them, this was personal. Faint though the baying was, Uriel could sense the dogs’ desire to get their teeth into him for just a few good bites before the humans finished him off.
It was time to move again. Once again, he looked upwards, peering through his fogged vision to try and detect the little aircraft. For once, the sky was empty, the latest of the aircraft had dropped behind a ridgeline, probably to scan the ground in another one of the canyons. Uriel sensed something else though, an aircraft high up, so high that even with his vision perfect he would not have been able to see it. It was moving fast, so fast that it seemed silent as it passed, the sound of its passage only arriving later in a dull boom. Surely an aircraft so high and so fast wasn’t a threat? Even if it was, it didn’t matter. Uriel noted that the sound of the dogs and the humans was getting louder. Even if the so-high, so-fast aircraft was a threat, he had to move.
He heaved himself up and started to move along the canyon. As he did so, he looked down, checking where he put his feet. He’d made that mistake on the first day after the humans had wounded him. He had been so busy checking the sky and the ground for his pursuers, he’d ignored the warning rattle. The snake had bitten him and the pain in his leg from the bite still burned. Snakes always had been servants of the Eternal Enemy and even with
