Heaven's Night

by Harry Aderton

  I spread my wings and rose into the air. The fallen army swept towards me, their black forms barely indistinguishable against the night. But it wasn’t the fallen I was interested in. I reached out with my intuition. A fallen general lashed at them from behind, spurring them on.

  I recognized the leader instantly. Cardiel. I once called him friend.

  He was of the Cherubim order and a powerful soul. Always composed and exceptionally courteous, he had mastered his thoughts with an iron discipline. I remembered him well from our vigorous discussions in the Causal eons ago. His mind was sharp, his wits sharper.

  I peered at the mass of fallen. I couldn’t see Cardiel with my eyes; he was lost in the thousands of fallen sweeping towards me. But I could feel his presence as surely as if he stood beside me.

  And he could feel mine as well.

  Agony lanced through my head. I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain. Anger flared. Clenching my jaw, I repulsed the mental attack and hurled it back at the source. I felt Cardiel reel. I pressed with my attack, feeling him recoil before the weight of my mental blows.

  Spears hurtled towards me but I dismissed them with a flick of my hand, repelling them as easily as pebbles off a shield. A part of me longed to fight these fallen, make them feel my righteous wrath. But they were a distraction. It was Cardiel I needed.

  I reached out with my right hand, fingers outstretched, and slowly squeezed them into a fist. As I did so, a figure plummeted towards me at high speed as if yanked by an anchor chained to his waist. The figure cried out helplessly, his arms flailing, wings folded backwards. His helmet tore clear, his sword and shield dropped away. He sped directly at me and snapped into my hand just as my fist formed around his neck. The fallen general dangled from my grip, his form trembling, his face white.

  “Hello Cardiel,” I said.

  He screamed in terror, beating at my arms and kicking at my legs, but I refused to let go. Calmly I spun, stepping through the opening in the gate and back into the cavern with my package in tow.

  As I moved inside, I flicked my free hand at the cave ceiling above the entrance. A low and mighty rumble shook the cavern as the ceiling began to split. With a great crash, the ceiling caved in, belching a cloud of rubble and dust. The cavern entrance was sealed, if only for the moment.

  I glanced about me. Most of the angels had passed through the portal above. All the wingless had passed through the other one. I dissolved the portal for the wingless. Dirael approached me, another large warrior behind him.

  “The cave-in won’t hold them back for long,” I said. “Please delay them when they break through.” I turned my attention towards Cardiel. “Now Cardiel. I need information.”

  The fallen Cherubim began to laugh. “Oh Sariel, come now. You know I will not divulge any information. Yes, I am at your mercy and yes, I realize this cannot possibly end well for me but I have made up my mind.”

  Now this was the Cardiel I remembered. Calm, composed, good natured. I looked into his eyes. They belonged to the same Cardiel I once knew. Had we changed so much? A deep sorrow filled my heart.

  “Goodbye, my old friend.”

  I reached into his mind and tore through his memories like a steel plow through fertile soil. His body convulsed, spittle foaming from his mouth as his eyes rolled into his head. His head snapped backward in a massive convulsion, his neck broken. I dropped him to the stone floor.

  I swore I would never reach into another’s mind unbidden and trespass on another’s thoughts. It was forbidden. It was a sin against God and all that was Holy. I had told Requel as much.

  Why then did I feel no guilt?

  I had the information I wanted. Cardiel knew where the fallen took the babe. My son was on the sixth sphere, alive and well, and imprisoned in a fortress. It wasn’t much information but it would do.

  The clash of steel on steel drew my attention. Dirael and three others battled against five fallen who had broken into the cave.

  Dirael ducked a blow before driving his sword through the throat of a fallen. Another angel impaled a fallen on a spear. The last three fallen were dispatched efficiently.

  Four angels were all that remained in the cavern. “Quickly, go through the portal. I’ll seal it behind you,” I told them.

  “And what of you?” asked Dirael.

  “I go to the sixth sphere. I have business there.”

  “Then I am with you.”

  “As am I!” said a large angel.

  I shook my head. “I may not survive the journey. You will be safe on the ninth.”

  “We are decided. We go where you go,” said Dirael. The others nodded in agreement.

  “So be it,” I said grimly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “My son may be in there.”

  I pointed at a formidable fortress in the far distance. It sat atop a solitary mountain like a misshapen crown. The fortress rose up black and tall with towering walls that leaned inward from a wide base resembling a truncated pyramid. A massive double-wide gate sat in the center.

  Within the outer walls, black spires and towers clawed upwards to the sky. Fallen swarmed and flew around the fortress like insects. A road weaved haphazardly through the long and desolate valley to the front gates. Carts and wagons trundled along its path resembling ants moving to and from a colony in a ragged line.

  We huddled on a rocky ridge on the sixth sphere. Our heads were bent against gusting winds whipping up stinging sand and small pebbles. My red cloak snapped madly behind me, my wings folded tightly. Only my team of fiery steeds took no notice as they pawed the air, the gusts flaring their flames to life.

  An oppressive heat lay on us a like a smothering blanket. My skin felt as if it were on fire, sweat drenching my garments beneath my armor. Any perspiration on my exposed skin dried instantly.

  I squinted up into the hazy sky, wondering once again how a second sun had come into this sphere. The cruel heat from the two glowing orbs turned this once lush and tropical land of palms and turquoise seas into a desert wasteland.

  “I know this place,” said Nafriel, a female angelic warrior to my left, one of the four who had followed me here. Her pulled-back blond hair was braided and tied. Shorter of stature than the others, she looked every bit capable of using the long bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. She had thrown a scarf over her head and wrapped it about her mouth and nose.

  “How so?” asked Dirael.

  “It used to be the Temple of the Eternal Springs where we could pay respect to God in the aspect of Divine Mother,” she said. “I loved it in there. It almost felt like home.”

  I nodded in silent agreement. This was the first temple to personalize God, which was a new concept at the time, especially in the lower spheres where reverence to God was less prevalent than in the higher ones.

  The reasoning for the temple was simple – sometimes one needed to see God in a way that allowed one to feel a personal spiritual connection to kindle a longing or strengthen a bond.

  Personalizing God was nothing more than viewing God as a loved one, whether father, mother, beloved, or friend. God certainly didn’t mind. God reciprocated love to each soul in the same way He was loved. The temple had been hugely successful, becoming a popular pilgrimage from those of all spheres.

  I recalled warmly the pristine marbled walls and the intricate waters and fountains flowing through every ingeniously wrought chamber and room. It was a place where one could meditate peacefully against the sounds of cool, trickling waters echoing all around. Each chamber was tuned to a different harmonic note.

  It was said that if one meditated in the central chamber and listened carefully to all of the surrounding running waters as a whole, one could hear the Divine Song played with delicate precision.

  Turquoise waters had once surrounded the Temple on all sides where fish and creatures of all types swam and thrived. And when the sun was at its peak, the picturesque coral within the immaculate waters displayed every color an
d hue as if made of living rainbows.

  Those days were forever past. A bleak desert, cracked and peeling, now surrounded the solitary mountain where the coral bay had been. Only occasional blackened skeletons of the coral gave any indication that they existed at all.

  “This place was holy. Why did Divine Mother forsake it?” Nafriel asked softly, her voice thick with emotion. “Why did She forsake us?”

  I had wondered the exact same thing myself. In the past, if I stilled my mind, I could feel Divine Mother’s sublime touch in this holy place like a loving caress or a tender embrace. On impulse, I stilled my mind and reached out with my senses as I had done so long ago.

  To my astonishment, I felt…comforted. Almost peaceful. As if Divine Mother told me She was still here …

  “Perhaps She is still here for those who would seek Her,” I said quietly, inspired by Her touch.

  “Do you believe I could find Her again?” Nafriel asked demurely.

  “I do.”

  She smiled. “I would like that.”

  “Is there any place left in these lower spheres that hasn’t been razed or destroyed?” asked Vvael. The lithe angelic warrior was armored like the others save he carried no shield and used two short swords.

  “If there is, I’ve not seen it,” said Dirael.

  “This desecration was deliberate,” I said, my anger rising. “They chose this holy temple because of what it stood for and what it represented.”

  Furmiel, the last of our group, hawked and spat. The big warrior crossed his arms across his armored chest, staring keenly. He had deep set blue eyes, short cropped black hair, and a full beard and mustache. Wide shouldered and wide of girth, he was easily a head taller than I. His eyes burned with fervor.

  “It may have been a temple once, but it’s their stronghold now,” Furmiel said, his voice deep and hoarse like two granite stones grinding together. “I doubt we’ll be greeted by friendly priests if we try to enter there.”

  “It does look rather impenetrable,” said Vvael, shielding his eyes against the sun.

  My head abruptly snapped around. I felt movement a hundred yards away. “A large group approaches. Hide quickly,” I hissed.

  My chariot was already well hidden behind a tall group of boulders. I ducked into a ravine with the others.

  A group of twenty or so wingless appeared, stumbling from around a bend. Chains bound them together, some wearing wooden yokes. Most were naked with only cloth tatters protecting them from the severe suns.

  Above them, two fallen hovered, cracking whips, their bat-like wings flapping furiously as they flitted back and forth.

  The sight stunned me. The wingless were enslaved. Worse, they were mutilated. Their eyes had been cut out, their ears shorn off, mouths gagged. Never would I have believed that the sons and daughters of God could enslave their brothers and sisters so, much less butcher them.

  Depriving one of free will was the greatest sin against God. A white hot anger ignited within me that more than matched the heat from the blazing suns.

  More fallen approached from around the bend, spurring a group of wingless pulling carts and wagons like beasts of burden. They pulled cargo of all types; timbers, stone blocks, crates, and barrels. Fallen hovered above each group of wingless, lashing with whips, cursing them, laughing.

  One wingless sunk to his knees. Several fallen descended on the figure in a frenzy, whipping and shouting and kicking until the wingless stopped moving. The wingless was dragged to the side of the road before the group moved on.

  After they passed, my companions rose from the ravine and checked on the wingless. He was dead.

  Dirael and Furmiel fumed. Vvael looked sickened. Only Nafriel seemed nonplussed.

  “Those butchers!” shouted Dirael.

  Disgusted, I stretched out with my feelings, allowing my intuition to take over. To my surprise and satisfaction, it was far easier to do than in the second sphere. The reality of this sphere was less dense. Energies coursed through me, invigorating me. It was like an elixir to my soul. I felt invincible.

  I gazed across the barren landscape to the fortress. I began to probe. I realized quickly that the whole area was heavily shielded. The fortress itself was guarded most of all, my mental probes were like raindrops against a glass window.

  But I needed information and there was only one way to get it. Gathering my will, I reared it back as if to strike a mighty blow, then unleashed it, forcing my way through the psychic shields.

  A counterblow struck me immediately. Agony ripped through me, as if a dull stake drove through my skull. I recoiled, my legs buckling. Lights flashed before my vision.

  Someone within the fortress had repelled me violently. Someone incredibly strong. No matter. I found what I needed.

  “Are you okay?” asked Dirael, his face worried.

  I nodded. “My son is in there. And I know where.”

  * * *

  “So what’s our next step?” asked Furmiel. “I’d suggest we wait until cover of darkness but who knows if it ever gets dark here.”

  “Perhaps we don’t need full darkness,” said Vvael. “If Sariel could create a portal closer to the keep or perhaps even within it, we could slip inside unnoticed.”

  “There is a barrier around the fortress that I can scarcely pierce,” I replied, my thoughts still absorbed on the one who repelled me.

  Could it be him? If so, he was so much stronger than I remembered…

  “We’ll have to sneak in and remain unnoticed somehow,” said Vvael. “We can’t risk exposing ourselves. If they know we’re here after your son, they would simply steal him away to some other sphere.”

  “There is no time for subtlety,” I said, watching fallen surge out of the fortress as if the hive was disturbed. Black clouds of fallen shifted in the hazy distance, swarming, thickening.

  “What do we do then? Attack?” He chuckled at the thought.

  “We won’t have to,” I said softly, unsure if my voice carried over the whipping wind. “They’re attacking us.”

  * * *

  “God in heaven,” whispered Nafriel.

  We all watched the sky blacken and roil with fallen as if thunder-heads had swept in. I had never seen so many. They were endless.

  “We have to flee,” said Vvael, stepping backwards nervously. “Quickly Sariel, open a portal and get us out of here!”

  I did not respond immediately. My mouth felt too dry. I licked my lips to no effect.

  A wailing sound emanated from the raging clouds of fallen as they surged towards us.

  Retreat! I thought silently. We must retreat. There was no other option.

  But a nagging thought tugged at me and would not let go. They had my son. I knew where he was. If I left and returned later, would he still be here?

  “Sariel please!” said Vvael. “They’re getting closer. For the love of God open a portal!”

  He was right, of course. To do anything else was madness.

  But I couldn’t bring myself to move. I was paralyzed with indecision. My son was in there. How could I leave him now? Instead, I simply stared at the approaching fallen.

  “I knew it!” shouted Dirael, triumphantly. “There will be no retreat. You were not on the seventh, Vvael. You did not see an army of fallen crumble before Sariel’s might. He is Archangel. Who can stand against him? Where Sariel fights, I fight with him!”

  “Are you insane?” asked Vvael, his voice rising. “Furmiel, say something!”

  “I can think of worse ends,” said Furmiel, grunting, gripping his shield and drawing his sword.

  Nafriel shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.” She pulled her bow free.

  “Am I the only sane one here?” Vvael threw up his hands in exasperation.

  I stared at my other companions in amazement. They were indeed mad. Their faith was misplaced. A faith in me, of all things. I, who was the weakest among us.

  I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

  I did not dese
rve their faith, or their companionship in the face of such overwhelming odds. I could never face so many alone. Who could? Michael or Gabriel came to mind. They were of the Four Towers, two of the four most powerful beings in creation. I was not equal to their prowess. Not even close. Even if I had their strength, I had fallen from God’s grace. My archangelic powers were suspect. Would they even come when bidden?

  “For the Love of God, Sariel, listen to reason!” cried Vvael. “Let us move to safety, formulate a strategy, and return at a later time!”

  The storm of fallen swept towards us. Still I did not move. We would surely die if I continued to stand and do nothing.

  So I did what came naturally in moments like these. I’m not certain if it was out of habit, fear, or desperation. Perhaps all three.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for guidance.

  Once more I reached out to Divine Mother in the ether. Once again I felt Her touch, Her mercy, Her understanding. And something else I hadn’t expected that shook me to my core.

  Her forgiveness.

  My legs buckled. How could She forgive me? I, who had been among the mighty, who had fallen so low?

  “Oh Mother,” I whispered, humbled. Divine Mother’s mercy was all encompassing. I felt it on me and my companions. I felt it on those fallen who swept towards us.

  “But I cannot forgive them, Mother. I have none in me.”

  I trembled, reaching deep inside myself. I had nothing left in me except the terrible pent up anger stored since I fell from God’s presence – the wrenching loss of Requel, the kidnapping of my son, the ruins of the lower spheres …

  Uncontrolled rage erupted within me and I gave it full release. Raw and powerful energies surged within and through me. The fallen were to blame! They committed these atrocities. They chose to follow Lucifer into his madness. They started this horrible war.