Wingless, p.1
Wingless, page 1
Wingless
Book 1 of the Wingless Series
by David M. James
Three Ravens Publishing
Chickamauga, GA USA
Wingless By David M. James
Published by Three Ravens Publishing
threeravenspublishing@gmail.com
P O Box 851, Chickamauga, Ga 30707
https://www.threeravenspublishing.com
Copyright © 2023 by David M. James
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
For permission requests, contact the publisher listed above, addressed “Attention: Permissions”.
Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Credits:
WINGLESS was written by David M. James
Cover art by J.F. Posthumus
Edited by: Taylor Robinson
WINGLESS by: David M. James /Three Ravens Publishing – 1st edition, 2023
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-962791-29-8
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-962791-30-4
Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-962791-31-1
Table of Contents
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Foreword
I started writing role-playing games in 1985 and many of the best times of my life have come from sitting around a table with friends, watching sparkly polyhedral dice fly across character sheets and weaving our stories together. I even met my wonderful wife Nadina through playing one of these games.
In 2013 I started working with the ideas that would eventually become a game I called “Wingless”. I ran that twelve-part game several times with different groups of friends, and each time the world became more nuanced, more alive. In the end, I knew I needed to expand that story into a complete novel, and after several years, here it is.
And so, it is vital that I thank those brilliant, funny, heartwarming, and supportive friends who created living, breathing characters in my world, and then foolishly let me play with them. You are all fantastic, and I could not have even dreamed of writing this without you.
Thank-you Nadina, Sarah, Jim, Graham, Bernard, Emma, James, Callie, Katie, Samantha, Mark, Sandra, Ryan and of course, our very own ‘Joan’, Ingrid.
Prologue
As the flames licked higher up her body, causing oil-soaked skin to blister and blacken and hair to flare alight, a scream of absolute agony forced its way out from between her clenched lips. Even the most steadfast of her executioners turned their eyes away at the sound of that cry, but they found little solace in the wooden crucifix on the wall that gave them their authority.
The woman tied to the stake reflexively tried to open her wings, to assume her angelic form, to show them she spoke the truth. But just like the countless number of previous attempts, they stubbornly stayed closed against her back, invisible to the men who had condemned her.
The burning was not a mortal threat to the Angel, even to one whose power had been all but culled. Her spirit would continue, and a new body would eventually coalesce for her. What drew the scream from her lips was the abject sense of failure she felt at being stopped in doing her work.
Again.
In her mind, the fire did not touch her body at all. No, what she saw was far more terrible. Before her eyes, the rest of the world was burning. Her executioners, the courtyard, the town surrounding it and all the people of the world that she had failed to save. Burning because of her, because of her failure. And through it all, through all the crying and screams, her father stayed silent.
With a muffled cry I sat upright in bed, sweat covering my body, muscles still shaking from the intensity of the nightmare. Choking back the last of the sobs, I reached for a glass of water on the bedside table.
“You do know that Angels aren’t supposed to dream, don’t you?”
My already exhausted muscles tensed across my back as I heard the voice. Without turning I quickly calculated where in my bedroom the interloper was standing and just what trajectory to throw the glass in my hand to strike him right in the nose. It would be futile, I knew—quite probably satisfying, but futile, nonetheless. Forcing myself instead to take a deep breath and ignore my impulse to fight, I turned to face the Fallen Angel. As I had suspected, he had mentally projected his will from wherever in the world he was currently, the tell-tale transparency to the image giving it away.
“What the hell are you doing here Azazel?” I choked out, the last effects of the nightmare still clinging to me.
“Charming. You are such a delight in the mornings.” Azazel’s warm smile attempted to lessen the sting from his words. “You know why I’m here. I felt your pain, just as I always do. It saddens me to see you like this, you know that. And you also know that I can help if you’ll let me.”
“Fuck off,” I spat
Azazel shook his head, “Trazael, please. See reason.”
His use of my old name reignited my impulse to fight. “Joan. It’s Joan. If you can’t even get that right…”
The Fallen held up his hands in supplication, cutting off the rest of my rant. He’d heard it enough times already anyway. “Okay, okay, Joan. Whatever you want. Listen, I’ll go now, but do yourself a favour. Call me. Please?”
The projection faded away as I muttered, “Fat chance,” and I was sure I saw his shoulders slump a little as I did so. It was always the same with Azazel. So calm, so caring, and on a certain logical level his offer even made sense. That’s what made it hurt all the more.
My phone trilled its ringtone into the now silent room, ‘The Mission’ by the Piano Guys. That meant it was one of my compatriots. I swear, selectable ringtones and caller ID had to be about the best inventions of the last century.
Shaking off the last of the tension from Azazel’s visit, I thumbed the answer button. “Talk to me, Toby.”
“Joan? Did you feel it?” Toby’s voice had a worried tone to it that sent a cold shiver down my spine. I forced myself to concentrate and listen to the song of the universe. It was something we could all do, but for some reason it never came easy for me. Sure enough, there was yet another note missing.
“Someone’s fallen,” I said into the phone.
“Of course, someone’s fallen!” barked Toby in barely contained frustration. “Kateri fell. Didn’t you sense it happen?”
“I was asleep. I was having a nightmare.” I didn’t bother to add that being asleep had never stopped me from sensing one of us fall before.
“You were having a what? Look, we’ll talk about that later. We need to get together. Usual spot, tonight. See you there?”
“Yeah, usual place.” I ended the call and slumped back onto the bed. The usual place. It sucked that this had happened enough times for us to even have a ‘usual’ place for these meetings.
Everyone knows about the great war.
Everyone knows who fought, who won, and who lost.
The shining armies of Michael and Gabriel clashed with the Lightbringer’s forces, both fighting for the attention of their creator, one side confident of His plan, the other hurt to their core by His love for the humans over themselves.
You humans call the victors, ‘Angels’. The vanquished became the Fallen, demons, or devils. But did you ever stop to consider that there might have been some of us who refused to fight?
There were 350 of us. The first conscientious objectors the Universe had ever seen. Perhaps it was because we were too closely tied to human affairs, but while we couldn’t see the justice in the Lightbringer’s argument, neither could we bring ourselves to raise a sword against those that were our brothers and sisters. If our creator had called us to battle the story might have been different, but there was only si lence from Him; it was Michael who ordered us to fight.
We did not Fall, as the Lightbringer’s forces did at the end of the battle. But neither were we permitted to rise to Heaven once more. For while that battle ended, the war, it seemed, was far from done. We were stripped of most of our power and left, wingless, on Earth, to wait out creation.
For the longest time we simply continued performing our appointed tasks. They were, after all, the last thing that He had ever asked of us. We were never able to stay in one place for too long though, our ageless bodies would draw the attention of too many powerful people. We can still perform some minor miracles when needed, although it is far easier when we are directly affecting our appointed sphere of influence. We can also still feel our wings, closed in tight against our backs, but we cannot unfurl them, and angels need to do that in order to access most of our powers. That, apparently, is one of the ‘Rules’. We can see the wings on the back of another Wingless, but humans only see an intricate wing tattoo on our skin should they look.
Then, one by one, we started to fall. Heaven continued to be deaf to our prayers, while the Lightbringer was always present to offer us a home, a family, and somewhat ironically, forgiveness. Maddeningly, the Fallen, even after everything they had done, still have all their angelic powers, while we who stood apart have so very little left. Worst of all for us, the constant loneliness aches like an open wound. We were never created to be alone, to be kept apart from our family.
The Fallen can be quite chatty really, and out of respect, the nicer ones do try not to unfurl their wings in our presence.
Much.
There is only a dozen of us left now, eleven with Kateri choosing to fall. This modern world and its technology has meant that we can at least keep in closer contact with each other, but now that only seems to highlight how few of us there are left.
Chapter One
It was after 10pm when I climbed the steps towards the old observatory. I knew that I’d be the last to arrive out of those that could, but I didn’t care. For the last 300 years or so we’d all gained some solace at this old place, when things seemed at their darkest. Using the public telescope to stare out at the vastness of His creation, into what the humans once coined ‘the heavens’, helped to calm the anxiety we all felt when one of us fell.
Somehow, I didn’t think it would help tonight.
As the centuries passed and our numbers dwindled, we often found ourselves quite alone and scattered across the globe. Those close enough to London to make it here tonight will have done so, the others would be using Skype to take part in the conversation. We lacked the power to send a mental projection like Azazel had this morning, so modern technology had become quite a boon in helping us feel less alone and isolated at times like this.
I started to run through who would be here tonight and their realms as I climbed the steps. I was taking stock of our assets. When you’ve spent as long looking after soldiers as I have, that sort of thing is a hard habit to break.
Toby would be here obviously, probably still fussing over whatever internet connection the others would be using to Skype in. Toby’s realm was all about the messengers, originally the couriers who would run messages between towns, then the postal service and more recently programs like Skype on the internet. He was always the first to have any new phone the humans had come up with and was rather pleased when he discovered that the engineers who created those gadgets fell under his purview and not Lennox’s.
While Toby would be fussing over the Skype connections, Lennox would be running wires, routers and modems like some modern spider web. Lennox has looked after inventors since the first mechanical lever; computers and the internet were truly her plaything.
Adelita would definitely be here, having taken a plane over from Holland. She found it easiest to use her influence for the innocent by basing herself at The Hague and having access to all the various humanitarian organisations there.
Damien would attend so long as he wasn’t needed in surgery. Having healers as his realm, he found it easier to pass himself off as a surgeon in order to do his work, and over the centuries he had become quite adept in as many forms of medicine as you can imagine.
Orfael had a sixty percent chance of being here, by my calculations. The youngest of us, Orfael was also the only one not to have taken a human name, and her refusal to do so aggravated me possibly a lot more than it should have. She looked after creatures of the air, and took pilots under her wing, pun intended, when manned flight was invented. I blame Toby for encouraging her.
Beatrice would show if she were able to get a flight from Paris in time. I hoped so, as I knew she would have my back when the inevitable argument started. Her realm of Law Keepers made her the perfect judge, and we had all, at some point, turned to her for the final word on some legal or moral decision. Our own personal Angel of Judgement.
If Beatrice were here, Silje would be as well. The two of them had been nearly inseparable for the last century or so. Silje had the hardest time adapting to the ever-increasing pace of the modern world, and each time I saw her she seemed a little more detached. Her realm was music, and she would often just stare off into space, listening. She can sense all of us, all the time, hearing our ‘notes’ as she describes it, and the discord caused by Kateri falling would be affecting her deeply.
Admonae had only a small chance of being here. She is our truth-seeker, and a mystery such as Kateri’s fall would have her scouring the ‘crime scene’ for clues if she were able to get there. We didn’t always see eye-to-eye if, truth be told, her need for evidence sometimes clashed with my need for action, but once committed to an investigation there was nothing anyone could do to dissuade her.
And then there would be Gary – blessed be his coffee. Gary ran a little café in Soho and made the most heavenly brew. I never quite understood why he did this however, seeing that his realm included the sages and oracles - those that attempted to understand the nature of the human condition. Whenever the topic came up, he would just put on that quirky little half-smile of his and make some pithy comment about the truths that could be discovered in the bottom of a good cup of coffee.
And then there is me. Being the only Wingless left who used to be able to summon a good old-fashioned flaming sword should leave little to the imagination about what my area of concern is.
That Kateri had chosen to fall was, unfortunately, not too much of a surprise. She had been given the realm of the environment to look after, and she had been steadily losing faith in humanity’s will to take care of this little blue globe for some time now. Azazel had probably used that to tempt her to take that last step and join them.
“Bastard.”
“Muttering to yourself again Joan?” Gary’s calming tone penetrated my reverie, and I slowed my march up the stairs, allowing him to fall in beside me.
He was still dressed in his coffee-stained apron, and I found myself returning his ready smile despite my sour mood. “Good to see you brother,” I said, pointedly looking his clothes up and down. “Inspire any new philosophies recently?”
“Ha!” Gary’s natural exuberance was contagious, even on a night like this. “Always sis, you know me. How about you, toppled any fascist regimes this year?”
“It’s only March,” I grinned back at him. It was good to see him, and I snaked an arm around his back to hug him as we mounted the last step. The comfortable camaraderie that he was always able to create had me wondering not for the first time why we spent so much time apart.
We entered the main dome to find Silje, Admonae, Beatrice and Adelita chatting to the faces of the three who couldn’t make it on various computer screens set up on the main table. Toby and Lennox were discussing which connection protocol would give us less lag in the conversations, ignoring the conversations happening around them. Like a family that has not seen each other for months we all embraced, laughed, and hugged in greeting, forgetting our troubles for a few precious minutes. I was the first to pull away, scanning the dome for the missing figure I knew would be here.
“So.” I pitched my voice to cut through the small talk. “Where is he?”
