Hand of God

"Tell them I'm alive. The plane just crashed, that's all." Roland called the Church on the Satellite Phone to let them know he was safe. "Who'd have thought the pilot was a Demon? Good thing I caught on early. If he'd flown us to their turf and asked whether I wanted wontons or a cleaver to the face, I'd have been in real trouble."

"Do you and planes just not get along?" Bronze Tiger asked. "The last time we flew together, we crashed too."

"You elbowed that plane out of the sky!"

"I don't think that was the main reason. The main reason is that planes and you don't mix."

"Shut up."

"Where are you now?" Bronze Tiger asked, puzzled.

"On an island somewhere near Ireland, I think." Roland looked around. "Doesn't look like anyone lives here. What century is this? How have I ended up on another deserted island?"

"Just don't get yourself killed," Bronze Tiger said.

"Enough. I'm hanging up." Roland looked around. Swamps and mist shrouded the little island, where several lush apple trees grew.

Whirr! The Purging Armor roared to life, guiding Roland's fist toward an enemy that had appeared behind him.

"Demons got here that fast?" Roland spun and threw a punch, then froze for an instant. "Why the pointed ears?"

A battle-hardened commander of the Nuns from the 40K universe would not have hesitated if her target turned out to be Dark Eldar, Orks, Tyranids, or Necrons instead of a Demon. Her attack would still have struck true. But Roland faltered instinctively, giving the elf time to dodge.

"Wait! I'm not a Demon." The elf flinched as Roland's fist warped the air. "Merlin sent me to bring you to him."

"Oh. I'll go see him, then," Roland said. "I didn't expect this place to