And that disturbed him.
Michael took himself away from the places in Heaven where Angels and souls congregated to a place he favored more than any other.
The mountain was high, though not high at all compared to the mount on which GOD dwelled. It was flat-topped and covered in a lush green forest so thick one couldn’t fly into it. Instead, one had to land on a small clearing near the edge of the mountainside. From there one could see a great portion of Heaven, spread out like a velvety blanket of luscious living green and shining precious metals. There were no castles here, no places where beings declared themselves lords, or considered themselves better than others who lived there—though to be fair, there was a certain amount of amused, benign condescension from the Angels to the souls. The souls were so happy! They never thought of Earth, not after the first year or two, although they seemed genuinely pleased when family and friends arrived. The larger buildings were for community gatherings—concerts, theatre, sporting events, or simple gathering places where people could talk about the pleasures of their days, whatever those pleasures were. Humans, even in soul form, had a gift for pointless chatter.
Michael could also see the many gardens, large and small, that dotted the landscape of Heaven. Angels and souls worked side by side there, nurturing plants taken from Earth, following the cycle of the seasons that existed in the Gardens, if nowhere else in Heaven. It was a place where those whose joy was to grow gardens would supply those whose joy was to cook and those who loved to eat—which was pretty much everyone, including Michael himself. In Heaven, it was the taste of the food, the savoring of the flavors, and the sharing of those flavors in company that brought joy, rather than filling oneself beyond satiation into gluttony as happened on Earth. There were taverns, restaurants, and many other gathering spots just for enjoying food. It was a commonplace to find a few Angels relaxing over bowls of ice cream in pastel colors as others roasted meat that required no slaughter. Child souls played in the grass while their parents relaxed, in the bloom of their youth, the days of vigilance forever over. There was music of all kinds, Angelic and human. Voices and instruments were always in tune, but not all the same. New songs and dances satisfied the need for change. Heaven was as much filled with sensuous pleasure as it was with the greatest pleasure of all—GOD’s presence.
Michael turned his back on the vista and walked deep into the forest. The path was narrow—just wide enough to let one person through at a time. The green canopy closed in above almost at once. The light that came through dappled the forest floor and shimmered as the leaves moved in the gentle, cool breeze that slipped its way between the trees. Michael followed the narrow path to a quiet clearing with a single rock, perfectly shaped for sitting on, in the center. He sat, closed his eyes, and basked in the presence of God.
No matter where one was in Heaven, God was there. Whether one was standing before him on the mountain, or sitting in the farthest reaches of Heaven from that holy place, God was omnipresent, all encompassing, and sending out love and compassion beyond any that one could find anywhere else in God’s very large universe.
Usually it calmed Michael and centered him, bringing whatever was troubling his mind under control. On this day, though, not even that worked.
He had not thought of the Earth in a thousand years.
Then he had thought about it.
Then he hadn’t anymore.
And what was worse, Michael had the sneaking suspicion that, had he not latched onto the idea that he should be thinking more about Arcana, he wouldn’t even have noticed that he wasn’t thinking about Earth again, almost as if something was deliberately driving the thought of that place out of his mind. In fact, even while he was deliberately thinking of Earth, he could feel his mind trying to wander away from it.
Michael’s mind never wandered.
Why? wondered Michael. Why would anyone do that? And who?
There were very few beings powerful enough to control Michael’s thoughts. God could do it, certainly. But this didn’t feel like God. Michael had felt the divine will before. When God directly told you to do or not do something, you had neither doubts nor questions. You just went along.
Nyx might have been able to do it, if she distracted him long enough to sneak inside his head. But Nyx was not allowed into Heaven anymore, and she certainly couldn’t affect Michael from another plane.
But who cares if I’m thinking about the Earth or not?
Unless it’s not just me.
Michael sent out a trio of thoughts and waited.
Azrael, Angel of Death and Release from Suffering, was the first to arrive. He was as tall as Michael, but his opposite in almost every other way save for the thin circle of gold light that floated around his head as around Michael’s; the sign of an Archangel. Where Michael was broad and wide and covered with muscles, Azrael was whipcord thin. Michael’s hair was black, his skin a deep brown; Azrael was pale with hair so white it was nearly translucent. When Michael stepped into a room, everyone, divine or mortal, noticed. Azrael could walk beside you for a day and you wouldn’t notice him, even if you were in the midst of battle. As always, he was in a dark gray robe without armor.
Michael rose and embraced Azrael. “My friend, thank you for coming.”
Azrael embraced him back and smiled. “It’s always good to see you, my friend. And I have to admit, your summons was curious. And vague.”
“Deliberately so,” said Michael. “Can you wait until the others arrive so we may all discuss at once?”
“I have all the time in Heaven,” said Azrael.
“Share the rock?”
They sat side by side, not speaking, until Raphael arrived. He was neither thin nor large, but right in the middle and shorter than the other two. His skin and hair were the deepest black, his eyes brown and lively. Like Azrael, he wore no armor, but his robes were pure white. He was God’s healer and giver of health, and he shone with a vitality that either of the others might have envied, if the idea of envy had ever crossed their minds. Michael and Azrael both embraced and welcomed Raphael, and while they were doing so, Gabriel arrived.
Gabriel was no taller than Raphael, and certainly not as muscular as Michael, but had a barrel chest under his white robes, the better to blow the horn that hung eternally by his side. His hair was blond and his skin light brown, as if recently kissed by the sun. He was God’s messenger.
The four of them were God’s Archangels. It was they to whom God spoke first on all things, and it was they who would be summoned first to carry out his business.
After more embraces and greetings, the four spread out in the clearing so they could see one another. The glow of their halos added a pleasant warmth to the air and light to the grove. “Thank you for coming,” said Michael. “I know I was vague, but I didn’t want to say anything untoward.”
“You really didn’t say anything at all,” said Gabriel. “‘Come, I am troubled’ is hardly a message.”
“But it is interesting,” said Raphael. “So what troubles you?”
“Earth,” said Michael.
“Earth?” Azrael frowned. “Why would Earth be troubling you?”
“Because I haven’t thought about it in a thousand years.”
Raphael opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and looked thoughtful. A moment later he said, “Strange, neither have I.”
“Nor I,” said Gabriel. “Not since the mortal death of God’s Son.”
“Nor I,” said Azrael. “Which is strange. Most of my work was there.”
The four stood in silence, and before long, three of them were frowning.
“I don’t want to think about it,” said Azrael. “And I don’t know why.”
“My mind can’t keep focused on it,” said Raphael.
“Nor mine,” said Gabriel.
Michael nodded. “So it isn’t just me.”
“It doesn’t feel like God’s handiwork,” said Raphael. “More like… someone playing with our minds.”
Azrael frowned. “We have been forbidden from going to Earth for a thousand years,” he said. “Could this be part of that?”
“Perhaps,” said Michael. “But by my calculations, the thousand years is over.”
Raphael nodded. “At least twenty years ago, I should think.”
“Should think,” said Azrael sharply. “Why don’t we know?”
“And why has no one asked to go to Earth?” said Gabriel. “It used to be one of the favorite play spots of the Angels.”
“From both sides,” said Gabriel. “You’d think some would be curious what has been happening there.” He reached out his thoughts to the door. “The way is still blocked.”
“Interesting,” said Azrael. “Why?”
“God would have his reasons,” said Raphael, “and we should not question him. If it is God.”
“This doesn’t feel like God,” said Michael. “It feels underhanded.”
The other three Angels nodded.
“A mystery in Heaven,” said Azrael. “Now that is a rare thing, indeed.”
“It is,” said Michael.
“And you have a plan for solving it, of course,” said Gabriel, smiling. Michael always had plans. That was what made him Heaven’s greatest general.
“I do,” said Michael. “Gabriel, would you go speak to God and tell him what we have noticed? If it is his will, then that’s fine and we leave it alone. If not…”
“Then he should know about it,” said Gabriel. “I will.”
“Azrael, would you come with me to the Gates? I want to see if they are truly closed, or just blocked from our minds the way Earth was.” Michael turned to Raphael. “Could you talk to some of the other Angels and see if they have experienced the same?”
“I will.”
“And we will meet here again?”
“After sunset,” said Michael. “When the great music begins.”
Sunset was an event in Heaven, even though there was no sun. The radiant light of God filled and lit Heaven brighter than the sun, but every day it would dim to near darkness. Then, everyone could see the entire universe that God had created. They could hear the music of the spheres as they moved in their orbits. The moons, planets, suns—even the galaxies—all moved with a stately and beautiful music, as much beyond the songs of the Angels as those were beyond the songs of men. This divine music filled Heaven for the duration of the night and whether one chose to sleep or not, utter peace reigned in God’s paradise.
“Until then,” said Gabriel, and he and Raphael went on their way.
“Come,” said Michael to Azrael. “Let’s visit the Gates and look upon the Earth.”
Gabriel took his time going to see God. There was no hurry, as far as he could tell, and it was enjoyable having a mystery to solve. He chatted with folks on the way, talking of their days and plans, which varied just enough to be worth commenting on. He promised to meet some of the Angels before sunset for time together, though with the understanding that he had a place he needed to be after sunset.
Gabriel landed near the foot of the mountain and folded his wings. One did not fly into the presence of God unless it was an emergency, and there were very few emergencies that God did not already know about. Besides, the path was pleasant, and he was in no rush.
God’s mountain was lush and green and very, very high. It took many days to walk the most delightful route, which led through gardens both wild and tamed, full of the buzzing of bees and the cries of birds, the startled blinks of deer and the slinking grace of leopards—none of whom ever died nor ended their hunt. The path led over bridges and up the side of the mountain, presenting spectacular views to all who chose to walk up. Taking in the beauty of Heaven helped calm and prepare the mind for being in God’s presence, which was important if one was a soul. For an Angel, it was a chance to clear one’s mind and put one’s thoughts in order. And while Gabriel loved to do so, he had agreed to report back for sunset, and that meant taking the fast way.
For a short while Gabriel joined the line of souls and Angels walking the path. They went through the first grove of pleasantly scented trees and flowers and across a bridge over a small stream that burbled across gleaming rocks. Shining trout leaped in the water and wading birds tilted their small heads, tracking the progress of the prey they would never eat—though Gabriel sometimes thought they believed they were eating. God was very subtle in how he removed death from this tapestry of Creation and even his archangels did not question how he did it.
On the other side was a grove of sycamore trees in full bloom, and behind the grove were the stairs.
The stairs were very long and very steep, and had no handrails. Made of a stone harder than any on Earth, they were buffeted by winds and often shrouded in clouds. It was the path that the Angels took when they needed to speak to God quickly. Gabriel, feeling quite good, took the stairs two at a time.
Halfway up, Tribunal was standing on the stairs. Gabriel slowed his pace and put on a smile. “Tribunal. So good to see you. How are you?”
“Very well,” said Tribunal. “What brings you up the stairs?”
“A question for God,” said Gabriel.
Tribunal smiled. “Then ask it.”
Gabriel smiled back. “It is a question for God.”
“And I am God, am I not?” Power resounded in his words.
“You are God’s Son.”
“Who is God’s Self,” said Tribunal. “All that is in God is in me.”
“I believe,” said Gabriel, “that all that is in you is in God.”
“What is your question?”
There was something in Tribunal’s tone that Gabriel could not quite place. He had heard a tone like it before, but not in a very long time. It was not a tone that one often heard in Heaven. It was… impatience?
Gabriel did not know Tribunal very well, which was odd. One could look at most beings in Heaven after a thousand years and say, “This is what I know of this person.” But Tribunal was different. He did not walk through Heaven or fly to the many beautiful places that were there. He never took refuge in the contemplative spaces, nor saw any of the concerts, nor joined with others in any of the gatherings. He, who had died for mankind, never chatted with souls or showed any curiosity about them, Instead, he had spent most of his time sitting on his Father’s mountain, bathing in his Father’s light and power. In fact, Gabriel could not remember a time when Tribunal was not on the mountain.
Or can I?
The thought was fleeting. Then Tribunal’s power came crushing down on Gabriel’s mind, quick and heavy and unstoppable. For a moment the force of it threatened to send Gabriel tumbling back down the stairs.
Gabriel blinked. Tribunal was standing before him, smiling. “What do you seek to ask God?”
It’s a reasonable question, thought Gabriel. “We would like to know why we do not think of Earth anymore.”
“That is easy,” said Tribunal. “God has plans for Earth that he does not wish to share, and to keep the Angels here from being distracted, he has driven it from their minds.”
“Of course,” said Gabriel. “That makes perfect sense.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, Tribunal. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
Gabriel turned and went down the stairs smiling. He had his answer and would give it to Michael that night.
Michael and Azrael approached the Gates of Heaven. A steady stream of souls flowed toward the Gates from the outside. Angels stood on either side of the Gates, welcoming and comforting those who arrived. Most were happy to be there; some were surprised. Others, especially the young ones, were terribly upset, their minds still clinging to how they had died and whom they had left behind. Those, the Angels would gather into their arms and hold and comfort before bringing into Heaven. They would sing songs of their own composition, and gradually the souls’ faces would
relax and the hunger for paradise light their eyes. Once a soul crossed the threshold, the pain and worries and fears of their earthly lives would fade into nothing. It would remember its loved ones, be they parents, children, family or lovers, with fondness and joy, all quarrels forgotten, so that when they arrived their reunion would be joyous, no matter what had happened in their lives on Earth after the soul’s death.
Michael and Azrael smiled at the souls coming in, and nodded greetings to the Angels at the Gate as they stepped beyond the threshold. It was a short walk to the edge of Heaven, where one could look down and see the Earth below.
“I don’t want to be here,” said Azrael. “Interesting.”
“Me, either,” said Michael. “I want to go back into Heaven and forget all about this. It’s almost…painful. Why do you suppose that is?”
“I have no idea,” said Azrael. “But I think it means we should go closer to the Gate, don’t you?”
Together they walked toward the edge of Heaven, and with each step their feet grew heavier, and their minds were filled with more foreboding. They were nearly at the point where they could see over the edge when they both stopped.
“I can’t walk any farther,” said Michael. “You?”
“No.”
“Can you fly?”
“No,” said Azrael.
“Interesting,” said Michael. “Let’s go back and see what Gabriel and Raphael have to say, shall we?”
“A very good idea,” said Azrael.
Together, God’s Warrior and the Angel of Death retreated from the edge of Heaven.
The sky dimmed, leaving the grove in near-darkness. Above, the music of the spheres was haunting and stately and so beautiful it could, if one listened close bring one to tears.
Michael and Azrael were first at the grove, with Raphael only a few moments behind. Gabriel did not arrive until near midnight.
“At last,” said Michael. “Where have you been, my friend?”
“Apologies,” said Gabriel. “This nearly slipped my mind entirely.”
“Indeed?” said Azrael. “Because it is about Earth?”
Scorn of Angels Page 13
