This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, incidents, and events portrayed in this novel are either used fictitiously or are products of the author’s imagination.
HEAVEN’S NIGHT
Copyright © 2013 by Aderton Prime, LLC
www.harryaderton.com
All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.
Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Aderton Prime LLC.
Cover art by Justin Gerard, “To Chain the Beast”
Cover design, book design, and map by Matt Mantooth
ISBN: 978-0-9853243-1-5
For my Mother, who inspired in me a fascination for all things angel.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The idea behind this novel germinated over twenty-five years ago, but if not for the thoughtful consideration of family, friends, and mentors, this novel would not be possible today. Your input, ideas, and feedback were invaluable. So, with my sincerest and deepest appreciation, thank you Gloria A, Frank A, Richard A, Mimi L, Stephen W, Eddie O, Lucy S, Ann S, Pennie B, Linda and Gary R, Andrea M, Mikey V, and Nikki L.
A special thanks also goes to the Long Ridge Writers Group who, over many years, helped me hone my writing craft; especially Ethel Paquin, Nancy Berberick, and Kris Franklin. It would be remiss of me not to mention the extensive source material that contributed to the landscape and characters in the story, to include: fantastic websites too numerous to mention; A Dictionary of Angels by Gustav Davidson; The Encyclopedia of Angels by Rosemary Ellen Guiley; The Holy Bible: King James Version; and The Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda.
THE THREE PLANES of CREATION
CAUSAL PLANE
ASTRAL PLANE
Before the Fall ASTRAL PLANE
After the Fall
16 - Kingdom of God / Sphere of Bliss
15 - Holy City / Sphere of Courage
14 - Cosmos / Sphere of Harmony
13 - Air / Sphere of Love
12 - Fire / Sphere of Energy
11 - Water / Sphere of Empathy
10 - Earth / Sphere of Prosperity
09 - Paradise / Sphere of the Faithful Limbo / Circle of Atheists
08 - Sunset stars / Sphere of the Blessed Storms / Circle of the Lustful
07 - Sky / Sphere of the Contemplative Heavy Rain / Circle of the Gluttonous
06 - Lush / Sphere of Justice Desert / Circle of Avaricious
05 - Pristine Waters / Sphere of Forgiveness River Styx / Circle of the Wrathful and Sullen
04 - Mecca / Sphere of Wisdom Dead City / Circle of Heretics
03 - Valleys, Plains / Sphere of Compassion Mountains / Circle of the Violent
02 - Mountains / Sphere of Truth Volcanic / Circle of the Fraudulent
01 - Nightfall / Sphere of the Loyal Ice / Circle of the Treacherous
PHYSICAL PLANE
PART I
DESCENT
CHAPTER ONE
Although some believe otherwise, I never fell from God’s grace when my brother Lucifer, the Morning Star, made war on the hosts in the astral spheres. Other angels fell from grace. Far more than you or I could count, far more than a third of the entire host of angels as some would believe. The simple truth is that all the angels fell in one way or another. Only a few of us had a choice. I did not fall. I leapt.
My name is Sariel, an Archangel. There were twelve of us at one time. Only seven remain. And even those seven, as mighty as they are, have been touched by the taint of Lucifer’s legacy.
I once thought Lucifer’s descent was creation’s greatest tragedy. That God must have wept on the day of his betrayal. But I no longer think so. Not now. Not after all I have been through. The truth was far more bitter.
But let me start at the beginning. Not at the beginning of Lucifer’s fall, for that story has been told many times over. No, this is my beginning, before God created mankind, before the events described in the Book of Genesis. This is my fall…
I stood on a towering peak in the Causal plane, the most subtle of the three planes of Creation. I thought of Requel and panic seized me. I prayed I would reach her in time. A rumble, low and angry, began in my throat and it grew until it spilled forth like thunder.
Dark clouds materialized above me and began to boil and clash, streaking lightning across the sky. My body of light flared like a nova and the light solidified into mighty eagle-like wings of purest white that stretched forth from my back and slowly beat at my sides.
My robes of light hardened into a brilliant cuirass, muscled and gilded, that protected my upper body. It gleamed like liquid gold. Ribbed guards covered my shoulders and upper arms and flowed down over my forearms. A cingulum belt made of long overlapping black leather straps armored my waist from hip to knee. Shin guards appeared on my legs and sandals formed around my feet. A bright red cape, edged with white silver, attached to my shoulder guards and fluttered and snapped behind me. An open-faced helmet boasting side cheek guards and a full raised crimson crest plume armored my head.
Holding forth my right hand, a lightning bolt splintered the sky and drove down into my palm to form a white-hot glowing spear. I held aloft my left hand as a sword of fire materialized within it. Sheathing it into a scabbard at my waist, I held out my left arm again. A tower shield formed there, from shoulder to shin, and depicted a radiant and white five pointed star blazing across a field of blue with a boss of sparkling gold in the center. I pulled it close to my body.
I stepped off the peak and into a chariot of fire pulled by a team of four horses glowing like red-hot embers. I raised my spear to the sky and brought it down in a swift cutting motion. The sky tore asunder as if severed.
“Hold on, my love,” I whispered into the gale. I pictured Requel clearly in my mind, her dark locks falling lazily across her beautiful face as she gently rocked the small child in her care. The image morphed unbidden into the one I had last seen of her in a vision – trapped in a stone room, crying, hunched over the wailing child as attackers smashed their way in. “I’m coming for you.”
Bellowing in fury, I charged forward into the rent sky and down into the lower astral spheres.
Entering the seventh sphere of the astral plane, I eased back on the reins. My team of fiery horses slowed, then pawed at the air. A bitter wind whipped and swirled into the suctioned tear I had made into this plane. With a slash of my spear I sealed the gash in the sky and took in the scene about me.
My face fell, appalled. I had expected the seventh sphere to be different – war had visited this world, after all, and it could not be as gentle as I remembered. Still, the bleak contrast before me against the backdrop of my memories shook me to the core.
The seventh sphere had once been a place of open skies and eyrie lofts, of deep contemplation and serenity. Angels of all ranks soared across the heavens on currents of warm and lifting winds. Tall and mighty clouds sailed through the sky like great ships across the deepest blue ocean. Drifting lazily, a perpetual and brilliant sun slowly arced from horizon to horizon, never dipping beneath it, never relinquishing its light. Great mountain peaks jutted up from below through the lower clouds like breaching whales, their majestic presence adding depth and beauty to the skyscape. Birds of all kinds flew among the angels, banking against the winds hither and yon. Rainbows, like cheerfully strewn ribbons, painted the sky with colors of light of the most brilliant hues.
A gust of wind tore me back to the present and I glared at the darkness. My anger deepened. Thunderheads crackled with lightning and rolled and boiled across a leaden sky. The sun, dimmed and hidden, cast a glow bordering on twilight as if it hid in shame. Wind driven rain swept sideways,
hissing and steaming against the flames of my chariot. In the far distance, flashes of lightning revealed a great battle taking place in the sky.
I stared in disbelief. Contests of skill with sword, bow, spear, and chariot had long been known to us. It was great sport, and had been for eons, honing mind, astral body, willpower, and concentration. In the lower spheres, contests of skill often took place in the larger arenas, one against one or many against many, but no harm was done. How could it? Angels were invulnerable.
Contests of skill were more like art or dance than anything else. Even the higher angelic orders adopted skills in arms and made them part of their order; the Guardian class were expert with sword, shield, and spear; the Thrones expert with chariots; the Cherubim expert with bows. Even I had become adept with sword and spear.
But what I saw before me debased the skill and grace of the art into mere butchery. The beauty and discipline of the skill were now used to inflict pain, to conquer, to destroy. Only Lucifer could take that which was once pure, bend it to his will, and use it as the mechanics for his war craft.
And Requel had been right, the battle raging before me was more akin to the physical plane than the astral.
Screams of pain, waves of torment, and the scent of blood should not exist here, in these holy spheres of light. But they did, and their foul vibrations flooded my heightened senses. Such was the corruption of Lucifer’s war, that even the spheres themselves were victims of the affliction.
I snapped the reins. My team of four blazing horses reared then surged forward, neighing defiantly as we sped towards battle.
A gust of wind slammed into me and it felt as if I had ridden into a wall. With a grunt I stretched forth my great wings and commanded the gusts not to oppose my will but to speed my delivery. I hurtled through the sky.
A great battle loomed. Angels of the Guardian class fought valiantly against an overwhelming force of Lucifer’s fallen.
The angels, armored and with outstretched wings, had gathered into small defensive groups. They ebbed and flowed against the battering winds like debris caught in a rising tide. With their silver shields held high, they maneuvered together in rank and file, braced against one another. The fallen smashed into them, again and again, melting around them, attempting to outflank them.
Below on several dark mountain peaks, catapults clung like insects. They launched fiery missiles skyward towards the battling groups of angels. Blazing streaks of light and smoke crisscrossed the sky as the missiles hurtled towards their targets. Most of the fiery projectiles missed, sailing harmlessly below. But some hit and exploded, spraying both angels and fallen in a mass of limbs and bodies.
Outside the perimeter of the main battle, groups of hovering fallen archers loosed wave after wave of flaming arrows into the melee. The angels defended valiantly against them, shifting their shields to block the endless volley. But the ceaseless pounding of the fallen assault splintered the angels into smaller, less defensible groups.
The outcome was inevitable. Anyone could see it. The angels were finished, but they refused to flee.
Sensing victory, the fallen forces gathered together like a great wave and rose up, threatening to overwhelm and scatter the few remaining angelic groups.
I snapped the reins again and my chariot leapt forward. A war cry wailed from my lips as I eyed the nearest peak. I pulled back my arm and hurled my spear. It streaked forward and exploded into the mountain.
A thunderclap split the sky. Rock and catapults erupted from the concussive force. A great section of mountain sheared away and slowly slid down the side of the peak, the catapults falling freely away. The entire mountain then trembled and slowly submerged into the clouds below like a beast sinking back into the watery depths.
The battle faltered at the sound of the explosion. Fallen veered from their assault and stared numbly. Others turned, looking about in confusion. I charged towards the closest group.
The fallen turned at my approach. I was struck by how different they appeared. Although angels in all but their beliefs, they did not resemble angels at all. They appeared tarnished, even diminished, as if they were a poor copy of their former selves. Their armor was made of copper or discolored bronze, their shields were rusted, and their capes were black or darkest crimson. Even their wings appeared darkened and ashen.
But it was their faces that struck me most of all. Many still looked angelic, but many more did not. They were gaunt and pale and held a rictus of rage and crazed hatred I had never seen before.
I drew my sword. It blazed like a white fire in the dimness. I drove into them.
The first fallen I bored into turned his head before I struck. I saw his face in that moment. I even recognized him. He was of the Principalities and was once my student. A caring and compassionate soul, he spent most of his time walking the lush valleys in the third sphere instructing curious seekers of knowledge.
He raised his shield, a useless motion born from reflex. My team slammed into him. His shield flung from his arm and spun like a disk. I recall him still, his face clear in my mind, because his was the first of many who fell to my wrath. The others were faceless to me. I refused to look.
The horses continued their charge. My sword clove through the helm of a fallen wretch and through the neck of another. A spear thrust my way. I batted it aside effortlessly with my shield as I continued to swipe with my sword.
Left and right the blade slashed, cleaving through armor and limbs and astral bodies alike. The fallen scattered before my fury like leaves before a storm. Moments later, I passed through them.
Another group of fallen had formed a wall before me, tall shields locked together with spears bristling in-between. Leaning forward, I beat my great wings mightily, once and once only, sending forth a great blast of wind that ripped through the fallen. Their wings tore like paper and others spun away dizzily. Feathers fluttered and cloaks sheared away.
My team of horses neighed shrilly and charged. The wall of fallen faltered as I smashed through it. Dazed fallen scurried to clear away. There was no retreat. I cut them down.
Only then did I notice the difference that had come over the battlefield. Gone was the clash of metal on metal, the screams of the wounded or the dying. The hiss of catapult missiles could no longer be heard. Only the howling wind and driving sheets of rain made any sound. All else fell silent. The battle had ceased. All eyes fastened on me.
I pulled back on the reins of my chariot, the fiery horses stamping and pawing in the air. Even those fallen I had just waded through melted backwards into the twilight like retreating shadows.
The tidal wave of fallen warriors who had threatened to engulf the few remaining groups of angels hovered airborne as if frozen in time. All attention focused on me. No pulse or thought entered my mind from the thousands gathered there. Not a one.
I raised my white-hot blade to the sky and summoned energy into it, letting it flare like the sun, momentarily changing the gloomy twilight into brightest day. The fallen recoiled as if burned.
“Where is Requel?” I boomed to the masses, letting my words spill into every mind, angels and fallen alike.
Only stunned silence received me.
“Tell me!” I roared again, filling their minds with an image of my beloved.
Still only silence. But I felt a flickering of awe and disbelief from the remaining angel forces. I felt their growing hope.
A single voice pulsed back. The voice lacked words but I did not need words to understand the malice and dark joy there. I understood it clearly in the laughter.
I bared my teeth, my anger rising to unknown heights. The laughter grew. I flicked the reins. The team of horses moved forward slowly, snorting at the shadowed forms of the fallen in the distance. All parted before me.
I angled my chariot upward towards a waiting figure hovering in mid-air. He was enormous, easily three times my height. His wings were huge and veined like a bat’s wings and they beat vigorously. A black cuirass armored his c
hest and a studded leather skirt covered his waist and thighs. Armored greaves covered his shins but his massive arms were bare. A plumed helmet protected his head. His right hand gripped a double-headed axe as tall as my body and his left held a coiled whip. He was a fallen captain.
“I see a Seraph has finally come to play,” the giant boomed. His eyes were hard and blond hair fell to his shoulders. Despite his appearance, I could still see he was once of the order of Dominion before he fell.
“Where is she?” I asked softly.
“You’re too late, Seraph.” He pointed his axe over his shoulder and smiled. “What’s left of her resides behind me in that tower on that mountain peak.”
I gazed where he gestured but could see nothing. Thousands of fallen blocked my view. But he knew that before he pointed it out to me.
“And what of her babe?” I asked, again very softly.
He shrugged. “What of it? It’s dead by now, I should think.”
I stretched forth my wings. A gust of air gently plucked me from my chariot and lifted me up until my eyes were equal to his. “What makes you think I’m a mere Seraph?” I asked him.
The giant’s grin vanished. “Cherub or Throne, it makes no difference to me. I’ll crush you with one blow!” He swung his axe in a full overhand arc.
I blocked the axe with my shield and rammed my sword up through his chin and into his skull. He opened his mouth in disbelief. The light from my blade spilled from his mouth, from his ears, nose, and eyes. The light flared until the head incinerated. The giant’s limp body plummeted.
With a furious roar I pointed my sword at the wall of fallen blocking my view of the tower that held my beloved. An invisible rippling cone of power shot forth with resounding force. Those fallen caught within the blast burst backward as if God Himself punched through them. The force of the blow scattered all before it, leaving a bored tunnel clear through their multitude and ranks. In the far distance, I spotted the tower I sought.
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