Two hundred years into my life, the Great One gave me a pet, giving his name as "Samson." This may seem odd to you -- a Servitor of Animals with a pet? But you will hear the explanation for that in due course.
Samson and I would play for hours in the sunny meadows of that really big continent in the middle. I would lift him up and toss him into the air, and then fail to catch him because I had no hands. He never minded. Samson's cheer never left him, even when I washed him in the icy rivers or accidentally lost him in the tall grass. Samson carried a brightness with him, a transcendent radiance of joy. I never had a pet before Samson, and I would never have one after. How could I, after how this story ends?
One day I encountered a Calabite gazelle-slaughterer on that sort of comma-like continent, and he seemed very ferocious and mean. Fear gripped my heart, but I had Samson. "Grr," I said, holding Samson up. "Grr!"
Suddenly, the demon looked very frightened and ran away, leaping and bounding as if he were a gazelle himself. I set Samson down and licked his head and said, "Good boy."
"Greetings, Oboth," said the Great One from somewhere behind me. I spun around, and then all the way around twice more, because I had fun the first time.
"Great One!" I exclaimed. "Did you see that? Samson frightened a demon away!"
"Indeed," the Great One rumbled. "I have an assignment for you, Oboth. A harsh assignment, but a necessary one. Do you feel yourself up to a challenge?"
"Always, Great One," I said promptly.
"A Cherub of Judgment," the Great One explained, "has requested our assistance in ... dealing with ... a Fallen one-time friend. This demon has since become the Demon of Beasts, a creature of some note and an unpleasant blotch upon the harmony of the animal world. I have selected you to accompany him, in a suitable array of shapes, on this mission. You will encounter substantial opposition, and it will also wear animal shapes. I believe that you have the strength to carry out this assignment. Speak now, if you feel you cannot."
"May I take Samson?" I asked.
"I have given him to you for just this purpose, Oboth."
"Then I believe myself adequately equipped."
The Great One spat onto the ground, and from the earth rose the Cherub. The Guardian glanced around, and then turned to me. "This is the Kyriotate?" he asked the Great One. "Doesn't look like much. 'Course, hard to tell with shapewalkers. Hey, what's with the rock?"
The Great One glanced skyward momentarily and then tumbled sideways into nonexistence.
"My name is Oboth," I informed him. "You may call me Hitherby."
"Pseudonyms," the Cherub said, "are a mark of deviancy. You are an angel. Your maker has named you Oboth. Therefore, Oboth I will call you." He glanced around, brushing off his rather out-of-place tunic. "My name is Antioch -- a subtle name, not one ringing with glory. Yet ... am I discontent? No. I know that the world understands the truth, and I do not hide myself behind an imaginative façade." With a hint of condescension, he added, "I do not expect a Kyriotate to grasp this attitude. You know little else but hiding, by your very nature. I blame your distance from Heaven. How can such earthly creatures apprise the subtle truths of existence?"
"This," I added, nosing Samson, "is my pet, Samson."
He raised an eyebrow. "That, Oboth, is a furry rock. A stone with some hair on it. A large, dirty, generally fuzzy pebble. It also appears to have been rolled around in mud on several occasions."
"You will find," I stated firmly, "that Samson's great strength and impressive build terrify and subdue even the fiercest enemies. The Calabite that Samson drove away earlier was not the first demon that has fallen, morally or physically, at his hands."
"Yeah," the Cherub said, "whatever. You ready to go? We have about ten miles ahead of us before we reach Behemoth's cave. -- Oh, in Heaven's name, you aren't going to carry that thing in your mouth, are you? It's filthy. It's probably covered with strange jungle germs and animal secretions, just sun-baked right in."
I blinked at him coldly, and a swarm on a nearby branch sang, "Just try to keep up. And, um, to give directions."
The Cherub jerked his chin towards a faintly visible path, and we set off. I did not speak to him unduly; instead, I gathered my hosts one by one until I had an impressive array of bodies there -- twenty-seven, if I recall, counting swarms as a single creature. Not long after I assembled myself at Antioch's side, we reached a hill of crumbled stone, and beneath it stood two twisted monsters, resembling nothing so much as celestial Djinn. I knew immediately that these creatures served the Demon of Beasts, the shapes spawned by his twisted imagination. "Duty to my hosts comes first," I thought, and so, with a sick heart I sent Samson into battle, tilting my head to the side and then slinging him at the demonic creatures with as much velocity as I could imagine. The one with the elephant's trunk snorted laughter as Samson hit the hill above him and lay still. "I missed!" I thought, "and I've hurt my pet!" You can believe that I felt desperately sad when these two events conjoi! ned.
"Gee," Antioch said. "Thanks." He took off the band that tied back his hair and spun it around in his hand. A moment later, with a faint chime of Essence, it shifted into a sling with a fiery sphere in its cup.
"No!" I said, suddenly. "Wait!" I should never have doubted Samson; the rock of the hillside where he struck began to move! My clever pet, with the forceful impact of his body against the hill, had started an avalanche! In a matter of seconds, the landslide swallowed the bodies of the demonic beasts. Samson tumbled lightly down the hill to land atop the rockpile.
Antioch turned sideways to look at me. "That," he admitted, "was fairly smart."
"See?" I said, smugly, trotting up the rocks to take Samson in my mouth once again. "For all your talk of 'he's just a rock' and 'ew, how filthy', you sure don't object when Samson saves the day for everyone."
"God help me," Antioch said, looking skywards. "I'm supposed to work under these conditions?"
I peered at him uncertainly. "Um," I said. "That's sort of what being assigned to do something means."
Antioch continued to look at the sky, more thoughtfully now. "The path seems to be guarded from here on in. I suggest we walk parallel to it, in the jungle, and you keep a bug above the path so we can steer straight. I'd also suggest that we camp a while when we're near Behemoth's cave. We've got a few hours until sundown, and I think Behemoth operates diurnally. You do know what that means, right? He spends the day doing things, and relaxes at night. So we should strike an hour after dark."
A few swarms hummed neutrally. "Sure."
So we camped for a time, and some of my hosts took watch, looking outwards, and others ranged through the jungle, and suddenly I heard the sound of shears. I turned, and realized just how terrible a mistake I'd made. I'd left Samson lying in the middle of our camp, and Antioch was cutting off Samson's fur.
"What are you doing?" I raged at him, trying to get past his guard to rescue Samson without actually hurting the other angel. "That's cruel."
Antioch just curled over my pet and kept on clipping, until finally he held Samson up triumphantly, as bare as a newborn. "See?" he said, vindictively. "It's just a rock."
I snatched Samson away and curled a host about him. "Samson," I whispered. "What has he done to you?"
"Excuse me?" Antioch asked. "I'd like to be working with a sane angel, please?"
I glared at him, and then slowly sighed. "He doesn't need his fur," I said. "He's still a special person, on the inside. I don't understand your screwy Cherub thinking, but, alleluia! I'll never have to work with you again. So let's get this over with."
Antioch looked up at the sky. "Fifteen more minutes," he said.
"Like Hell," I said. "We go in now."
So we went. The cave entrance -- I will never forget that sight, as long as I live. A host of monsters teemed there, a seething sea of corruption and abomination. I didn't know then if they were twisted animals or demonic Vessels. Either way, they had to die. If they were real animals, I thought, it would be doing them a favor.
I knew what I had to do, as I had done before. I reared back and tossed Samson into their camp, to sow disruption and destruction in his own inimitable way. And nothing happened.
"Oh no," I whispered to Antioch. "You've stolen his power."
Antioch shrugged and drew out his fire-sling. "How terrible," he said, softly. "We'll have to fight without that pebble's help."
The creatures were stirring now, looking around for the one who had thrown the mighty but helpless warrior into their midst. "We'll never be able to take them all on on our own."
Antioch grinned fiercely. "Then let us pray that they are vulnerable to your resonance, Oboth. If so, we may be able to fight them on two flanks."
"You want me to possess them?" I asked in horror.
"The ones in the back," he said softly. "On my count." Then he hurled fire into their midst and the battle was joined. The world turned to nightmare. I mean that literally. The best-defended hosts were my swarms, but there were a lot more of them to be hurt. I had to hold back my fiercer creatures, rather than sending them to the aid of beleaguered hosts or my fellow angel. If I could possess the ones in the back, then I needed those Forces free, and I couldn't afford to have the great cats and such suddenly wake up in the middle of a battlefield. Then the real nightmare began, when Antioch gave me the signal and I extruded some Forces to take over a monster.
My resonance worked. My attunement worked. These were animals. But they were no animal ever meant to exist on God's green Earth. Their veins ran cold. Their eyes saw everything as prey, and only orders nearly burned into their brains kept them from turning on their own kind. Overriding those mental chains -- that was hard. Slaughtering animals, not for food or cause but for the war -- that was hard. And risking so many hosts at once -- that was the hardest thing of all.
We won, because I possessed the rear ranks of them and attacked from behind. Because Antioch fought like a Malakite. Because animals don't cope well with the attacks of a swarm. But twelve hosts were on the verge of death.
I had a choice. I could sing healing nine times. I would succeed -- most of the time. I would also be out of Essence. Four or five hosts would still be on the verge of death. Some others would be too wounded to abandon. I would have to come back and kill all the ones I healed, later -- well, all save the swarms. At least the Songs wouldn't alert Behemoth more than the damage that Antioch had done to the creatures. I asked Antioch if he could heal them. He shook his head. (I found out long afterwards that that was a lie. He wanted to conserve Essence.)
I chose the handful of hosts that were wounded but still combat-ready and sent them in with Antioch. One host carried Samson in her mouth, my good luck charm if nothing else. On the rest of the hosts, I waited. I waited.
We went into the cave. Down a series of tunnels, braced with timber. Into a torchlit cave where a great shape stirred. It had horns like an elephant's and feet like a snake's, great ears like a bird's, strong tentacles like a cat, and its breath stank of air. In other words, I never really got a clear picture of Behemoth; he frightened me far too much. I wondered how we were going to defeat this monstrosity, in between convulsive shivers. The creature said softly, "Hello, Antioch," and his voice hissed like a fish's.
"Oboth," Antioch said quietly, "Steel yourself. Behemoth has warped the shapes you wear. But not much, yes? Just a little twist here and there, nothing particularly objectionable?"
"I cannot imagine," I whispered around Samson, "a more vile crime against God than what he has done here. And I would like to leave."
"You heard the Domination, Behemoth," Antioch said, and smiled.
A sword appeared in his hand, and it glowed brighter than any torch. "Let justice be done," a voice cried like the striking of rusty cymbals, and the sword left Antioch's hand to bury itself in Behemoth's eye.
Behemoth struck like a maddened beetle -- again, I find myself having difficulty describing such things -- and knocked Antioch backwards several meters. Antioch scrambled to his feet and ran. The sword withdrew itself and struck again. Behemoth screamed, "You shall not leave this place!"
I thought, smugly, "Yeah, right," because both of us were already thirty yards down the tunnel.
The cave, the tunnels, the very earth trembled. At this, I became less smug. I continued to lose confidence as the first speck of dirt fell from the ceiling onto our heads. We ran very, very fast.
We were almost too late. A huge crack appeared in a timber ahead of us, and the whole tunnel started to cave in.
I knew there was no time to think. I had to trust in Samson. I had to pray that if God loved us, he would restore Samson's strength in our hour of need. My pet had always been faithful, loyal, a true servant of the Lord.
I burned all my Essence, for I have never been precise, and spat Samson into the crack of the timber. I felt God with me at that moment, and the Great One as well. Samson wedged there, in the wood, providing just that little bit of structural support for just barely enough time.
Then the weight of the shivering tunnel compressed the wood, and Samson shattered.
But we were already free. And we lived long enough for the sword to finish its work.
Antioch didn't bother to stay around for the funeral. I couldn't retrieve Samson's body, so I buried the fur clippings that Antioch had cruelly taken from him. The animals of the forest -- at least, those that I wore, and the birds, and the insect life -- gathered around. We told stories of my brave pet until the sun had set and risen again, and then we dispersed.
Every two days thereafter, I sang three healing Songs. Some of my hosts were saved. Others were not -- I can only remain in a host so long.
I should have trusted in God. I should have trusted in the Great One. I should, most of all, have trusted in Samson, who in all his life failed me only once. But I was young.