The Divine Defender IV (fiction)

Kaleen Yweh (IV)

The armory was a temple to the spirits of war, raised off the ground behind the church tower, its exterior a series of pillars holding the concentric layers of white stone waves that made up the roof. They entered through an archway into a vast, open gallery lined with cases, chests and shelves of equipment. Statues of winged women with various weapons presided over the young Cherubim as they went about the cleaning and organizing of the arsenal, with a Sister or Mother infrequently patrolling one hall and vanishing out another. The center of the room had a circular island upon which stood a statue of their great ancestor, Mother Shiva, fully armored, her hair cast in mid-air as though by a storm. Kaleen always made a point that Mother Shiva seemed smaller now than she seemed years ago when Kaleen polished and sorted in this room.

Mother Leyka called out a blessing of the Spirits and a group of cherubim in their casual robes approached. They led the two women to the glass cases and gingerly opened them.

The cherubim were all of similar mold. Their hair was cut to the level of the jaw and they wore long, modest gray robes, and were very young. These Cherubim were unarmored and unarmed. Vivid memories exposed themselves to Kaleen, triggered by the sight of the working girls and the smell of the herbs in the cleaning solutions. She had once been a short haired, gray-gowned little girl in this very armory, carefully examining the various weapons and armor pieces, and the bodies of her superiors. As she struggled to carry their heavy weapons and to remove the plates of their armor, Kaleen had felt as though she were touching the skins of goddesses, and her whole body had shivered.

Mother Leyka lifted her arms, as did Kaleen.

The girls gathered around them and slid their small fingers between the interlocking plates of the angel-steel suit of armor, looking for the catches where the plates overlapped. After much groping they would release each piece and carefully reassemble it in the case. One girl poked rather fiercely at Kaleen’s underarm, trying to loosen part of her breastplate from the pauldron, and Kaleen had to stifle a reaction to the tickling. Mother Leyka was perfectly sullen as though in meditation, but Kaleen could not fully suppress the strange sensation of all these hands and fingers upon her.

The suit had quite a few parts to be removed: the breastplate, the gauntlets, the vambrances, the pauldrons, the fauld, the cuisse and greaves, and the pieces between. When assembled, the sleek armor followed the contour of Kaleen’s body – save the breastplate, which was a single slight curve. Where it molded to Kaleen’s breasts, it would have been quite a liability to wear. All the armor pieces were a bright blue for Kaleen and a strong wine-tinted red for Mother Leyka, and subtly ornamented. Mother Leyka’s armor pieces had a hint of wing-like pattern – similarly, Kaleen’s pieces were like waves.

The armor felt almost like a second skin to Kaleen. She scarcely felt each piece coming off. As more of the armor was stripped, more showed of Mother Leyka and Kaleen’s battle-dress, a high-necked cassock, which Kaleen would soon remove as well in the privacy of her room, to change into her airy, open-shouldered casual gown. The Cherubim reassembled the armor over a clay model, where it would be cleaned and treated.

The two Seraphim each drew from their foreheads the Iron Band that allowed them to communicate telepathically in the heat of battle, and handed them to the eager Cherubim. They took Kaleen’s mace and Mother Leyka’s arrowlance – a long rifle-like steel weapon with an open, u-shaped barrel, its body crisscrossed by runic etchings. These, too, they treated with great reverence, storing them where they could be attended to.

“I’m going to put in a word for you.” Mother Leyka said, laying her hand on Kaleen’s shoulder. “It is time a new squadron was formed, and I believe you would excel in it.”

“I would,” Kaleen stammered and held her hands together, rubbing and wearing them down, trying to find words. This was a bolt from out the blue. “I would certainly,” She paused, “I would be honored, Mother Leyka. I would not disappoint you!”

“I know you would not,” Mother Leyka said. She looked fondly at Kaleen. “You have grown, Kaleen Yweh. It is time you leave the girls.”

Mother Leyka pressed her index finger to Kaleen’s chest and then turned around with a flourish, leaving the bewildered young Seraphim where she stood, among the silly Cherubim celebrating their older sister’s sudden triumph.

Kaleen was swallowed by emotion when she returned to her dormitory. She wondered where all this came from, how all this was happening. She did not know whether to be happy or not. Had she ever been ungrateful for her position? Did the mothers believe her restless? Kaleen had never been ambitious, and she had gotten very used to her place. As she walked the stone paths she wanted nothing more than to drop to bed and laugh aloud and uncouth in her solitude, feeling as though mad. But there was a bag at her door.

And there was a girl on her bunk, reading one of her books.

“Hello,” She said and lifted the book, “Saul’s Kinetics is very outdated.”