before they felt insulted and made plans for revenge. Then she will shatter them into a thousand pieces. She is strong enough. A single punch of her fist would be enough. Alais looked down at her gold-encrusted palm. She could smash the living marble right now. But should she? Let her former standard – bearers live and suffer.
Having fallen to earth, many angels have realized that death is a mercy. Most likely, they weren’t exterminated only to be cast down into the wilderness to continue to suffer for all eternity. It was better for the angels to die, but God invented an elaborate punishment for them. One thing he didn’t think of was that Alais benefited from having an army of her own. Even though her legions are burned, they are still strong. With them in reserve, she can do whatever she wants with the land.
“If you think the men are dangerous, I will deal with them,” she tossed at her former standard – bearers one last time.
The seven statues stood on the barchans. The sand was dragging them down. A long time had passed. So much sand came down that the statues were hidden under it, but they stubbornly continued to stand and wait for the Mistress to forgive them. It was not until several years later that they realized that waiting was pointless. Then they flapped their marble wings, shook off the sand, and flew away. Alais stared blankly after them.
Some caravan was caught in their marble claws. Blood flowed across the desert. Somewhere jackals howled, and marble fingers tormented the flesh of men.
“You will regret telling us to leave,” Setius’s angry thoughts echoed to Alais.
So far, she hadn’t regretted it. Without the seven standard – bearers, she could get along just fine. Besides, she didn’t have a standard anymore. There was nothing left to carry into battle. All the standards had burned away, along with the heavenly appearance of the fallen angels. Their power is no longer beauty, but terror, and monstrous strength.
Setius, Noreus, Doriel, Maestem, Ramiel, Novelin, and Amadeo disappeared behind the desert. This is even better. She needs only loyal warriors. The monsters left with her have proven they can be loyal. So they’re the ones to bet on.
The chariot’s trail of blood
There was more and more gold in the desert. You’d think it was the sunlight that was breeding it. In fact, Alais was playing a game. She picked up handfuls full of sand and let it slip through her fingers. Eventually everything around her turned golden.
“Where do you go with so much sand and so much gold?” Alais looked around at the vast expanse, gleaming with magical gilding.
Remy understood her question in his own way. He immediately dispatched a company of builders from her demons. Soon a huge palace was erected in the desert. It was made entirely of golden blocks. There was so much gold in the desert that it could be used as building material.
Alais glanced indifferently at the golden piles, columns, and arches. This palace was a faint parody of heavenly mansions. But since heaven was far away, that should be enough.
One could wander the golden halls for days, but eventually Alais grew bored with such a pastime. Sitting under a desert starry sky was far more pleasant than living in a golden palace, as if in a crypt. Black-winged demons nested among the golden pillars. Alais told them to draw signs in the sand around the building to keep travelers from seeing the palace. Gold was too much of a temptation for humans.
Remy’s gift went unappreciated, but his diligence awakened the builder in Alais. She ordered a cohort of demons to build a huge palace out of sand. The entire structure was supported only by spells. The ceiling and walls crumbled as soon as the magic wore off.
A traveler stopped by the sand palace one day. Alais watched him, lying on the flat roof. The wayfarer couldn’t see her, but she saw him. It’s so convenient to watch people from above, as if they were insects. It’s a good thing people can’t fly, or they would know that angels live in the heights.
“This is the king’s messenger,” Remy determined at a glance.
“So what is of it? You think I give a damn about people’s ranks and titles?”
“He comes from the United Realm,” Remy said, his eyes tensing. For a moment there was the thought that he was going to run down and tear the ambassador apart.
“Yes, I remember, the Upper Kingdom and the Lower Kingdom united,” Alais broke off an ornament from the sand pediment, crumbled it into the sand, and sprinkled the grains of sand down. The sand fell beneath the messenger’s feet, but he didn’t even realize it was a joke of the celestials. He boldly walked into the sand palace.
“The country is now called Egypt,” Remy reported. He flew everywhere and learned about everything.
“What business is it of ours?”
“If it had not been for your efforts, the Upper Kingdom and the Lower Kingdom would not have joined together, and Egypt simply would not exist.”
“If it hadn’t been for the efforts of Menes,“Alais corrected.
“But it was you, Madam, who gave him the power.”
“It was Menes who fell at the deity’s feet and began begging for mercy for his state. The merit of uniting the Upper and Lower Kingdoms rests with him. If he had not succeeded in invoking my leniency, I would not have let him win. By the way, how are his lively troops doing?”
“They have the bodies of men and the minds of your former legionnaires. The combination turned out to be a bad one. Human flesh rots, and the higher mind planted in it is forced to live in decaying remains. The warriors of Menes draw angelic symbols with their blood. These symbols became known as hieroglyphs. They made them into an entire alphabet for humans.”
“So, even we’ve taught the humans something,” Alais said with a chuckle. “Seti, on the other hand, told me about some unknowing angel who harms us by teaching crafts and speech to mankind. Have you seen one?”
“No, ma’am,” Remy scratched the back of his head with his claw. “There is none in Egypt, that’s for sure. But the warriors of Pharaoh Menes, in whose dead heads you breathed the minds of your dead legionaries, are trying to recreate all the comforts of angelic life on earth. They do it for themselves, but Menes thinks it is your gift to him and his people.”
“Let him count it!” Alais graciously allowed it. “I liked him. I do want to give him a gift.”
“Perhaps you should go and see him.”
“Not now!”
“The Pharaoh has become dependent on his dead armies, but that has not broken him. Menes thinks like you now and waits for you. But his people, on the other hand, live in terror of the warriors rotting alive.”
“The people must be kept in fear,” Alaïs leaned over the parapet of the roof and looked down. “Get me the head of the king’s messenger. I don’t want him wandering around here.”
Remy wanted to dive down, but it wasn’t necessary. The sand walls crumbled, burying beneath them the man who dared to enter a palace made of sand. It was meant to be. This palace was built for the angelic race. Man is not welcome inside.
Alais flew down, shoveled the sand, and looked over the corpse. The
