by Donovan Neal
“Interfere, and you shall all likewise perish.”
********************
“Attendant, did Apollyon see this script? Michael asked.
“He did High Prince, yet it was not this complete when he was here. There were only three letters when last I opened the tome. There are now nine, and the word is complete.
Michael rubbed his chin and turned to his brother. “Perhaps it is a progressive revelation. The title might be dependent on his actions; therefore, perhaps it is not too late. We must find him quickly.”
“If I might be so bold my Prince, too late for what?”
Talus looked at the attendant and spoke. “What is your name record keeper?”
“Hariph, sire.”
“Hariph, do you know where Apollyon was headed when he left here?”
“Nay Lord Prince; however, I did inform him that he should entreat one from the royal court. I had specifically mentioned that he might entreat you.”
Talus looked at Michael. “Michael, we were in session when he came here, and he has already spoken with me. I think we should scout Lucifer’s quarters. Perhaps he might have gone there.”
Talus closed the book and returned it to Hariph.
“Thank you Hariph. You have been of immense help to the court this day. Your service shall not be forgotten.”
“Any time, High Pr….”
Suddenly an explosion rattled and shook the building. Books and vases not otherwise secured fell and crashed to the floor.
Michael and Talus ran to the front door, and those within the building ran to several windows to look outside. Flames and smoke rose off in the distance of Lucifer’s home, and for the first time in recorded history, there was fire on the streets of Heaven.
********************
Elohim after Elohim gawked and stood in disbelief, stunned in dismay that two of their kindred grappled in mortal combat. A crowd had gathered to witness the spectacle, and others attempted to hold Abaddon down as the mighty angel tossed several angels aside like rag dolls. Ashtaroth, Lucifer’s attendant, stood aloft as a wall of Elohim surrounded him. A contingent of others attempted to hold off Abaddon’s charge towards him.
“Move from my path or be moved!” Abaddon roared. His eyes focused on his quarry.
Talus and Michael arrived, touched down to the street, and took position to stand as a buffer between the two combatants. As more and more Elohim came to both hear and see the spectacle before them, many stood frozen in disbelief. Elohim that held him were tossed aside as a dog shakes water from its body. With open hands and claws unfurled, Abaddon reached once again for the throat of Ashtaroth who saw the charge of the deranged angel, ducked, and then backed away.
Michael screamed, “Apollyon! No!”
In seconds, it was over and the broken body of Corlus fell to the ground. He was Illuminati, an angel devoted to art, wisdom, and beauty. He had waved his hands as a conductor might lead an orchestra, and expected that the mighty Arelim would follow his lead, and stop his maddening rampage. He believed against hope that despite his fury, Abaddon would take notice and hear him. But when words were not enough, Corlus placed himself in the direct path of Abaddon’s blow.
Corlus, his pleas but a tiny voice of wisdom crying in the wilderness, attempted to reason with the howls of Abaddon’s rage. Yet reason had abandoned Abaddon, and the hard concussive sound of a fist hammered deep into Corlus’ soft flesh.
There was a hush over the attending crowd as Corlus’ eyes were open, his breathing turned shallow, and the bluish fluid of his life force drenched the transparent gold street now stained with Elomic blood.
Two had become one as Corlus stood impaled, the arm of Abaddon running through his exposed chest. A small whirlpool of cyclonic air whipped around him, light escaped the dying body as if sucked into a vacuum, and in moments, the spirit of Corlus was gone. Abaddon tossed the lifeless husk of his corpse aside and the body sprawled in the street. While Abaddon held in his bloody hand the beating Heartstone of Corlus now still.
********************
“Lord Lucifer, as always it is agreeable to see you again.”
“Thank you, Mephisto. There is much to do. El has commanded that Eden be primed for creation. A garden of renown is to be planted and shall serve as personal abode of El’s greatest creation.”
“Your instructions my Prince?” Mephisto said.
“Gather a legion of Creyun for this task. They are adept at building and gardening. Spare no one Mephisto. Pull everyone off expansion of Athor. I want the garden completed before the end of the day.”
“Yes, Chief Prince. El’s will be done.”
Lucifer flew towards Athor and settled into his study to ponder the series of maps made of this new world. He spread one across a desk to view the region around Athor and saw that the area of Eden was near and well watered. His eyes glistened with childish anticipation.
“This shall be the greatest of my feats yet. I will make a garden so lush that it will rival the palatial comforts of El himself.”
********************
“Argh!”
Abaddon lashed out at several Elohim and overcame them. Those captured in his grip found themselves thrown against stone and glass. Dozens of nearby Elohim attempted to restrain the angel now run amok.
“Talus!” Michael said.
“I see him Michael. Attack from the rear and I shall engage him directly. He must be brought down!”
Flames leapt from Abaddon’s body and engulfed all he touched. Elohim screamed in pain as angelic flesh burned. Some wallowed in pain, for their hands, feet, and limbs were violently hacked. Apollyon ignored all pleas to stop and cut down all who stood between him and Ashtaroth.
“Apollyon, yield or be bound!” Talus demanded.
Abaddon looked upon his prince, and his eyes glowed with flame. Where faculty of reason once rested, rage did now abide. Where a command from a high prince might once have made the Arelim bow in reverence, reason was now lost to rage. Abaddon raised his hands and moved to attack his prince.
Talus braced himself and summoned the sharp bony protrusions from his forearms, and he raised his arm to block Abaddon’s attack.
Abaddon’s blow found its mark, and angelic flame engulfed Talus’s arm. The force of the blow forced Talus back, and his feet slid over the gravel. Talus attempted to use Abaddon’s momentum against him and reached to grab his arm to pull him forward.
Abaddon lurched forward as his center of gravity shifted and he tumbled to fall on top of his Lord. Talus fell to his back and used his strong legs to throw Abaddon forward and sent the rogue Archon reeling into a nearby house.
The home burst into flames and engulfed the inhabitants within. Screams and panic emanated from the dwelling as several occupants ran out to escape to safety.
Abaddon then shot from the roof like a cannon; his body glowed, and fire spurted from him as he hovered in the air. He clapped his mighty hands together sending a shock wave that knocked all but Talus to the ground and leveled the flaming structure below him.
Burning wooden shards sprayed Talus and those nearby, shredding flesh and scorching wood, cloth, and stone.
Talus yelled to his brother, “Michael now!”
Apollyon’s rage blinded him to the presence of Michael behind him. Michael jumped on Apollyon’s back, and wrapped his powerful arms around the Arelim in a chokehold and held him fast.
Apollyon struggled to break free, but Michael used his own weight to drag Apollyon down to the ground. With a thrust of his wings, he turned Apollyon’s body downward. The two plummeted to the ground, and Apollyon slammed face first into the earth.
The glass street below them buckled and cracked from the impact of their fall.
Apollyon wrestled with Michael to grab hold of him and to break free, but Michael's grip was sure, and with one arm wrapped under and around Apollyon’s neck and chin: another interlocked for surety. Michael refused to release him.
Apollyon
moved himself backward and smashed Michael into wall after wall in an attempt to break away from his hold. He bucked, like an untamed stallion to shake Michael from off his back.
Michael tightened his grip the more and frantically struggled to hang on using his wings to stabilize him and keep him balanced.
As Apollyon struggled to escape Michael's hold, lightheadedness flooded him, and his thoughts became disoriented. With each step, his movement slowed: he staggered and swayed until the behemoth of an angel passed out and crashed to his knees. Michael, relentless in his determination and with his grip still taut, cautiously released him.
The rogue angel was now unconscious and collapsed at Michael’s feet.
********************
“This area will do nicely,” Lucifer said. “Spugliguel, create a perimeter 100 furlongs long by wide. This area shall be your charge, and never shall the cold breach this realm. I command a perpetual season of spring be in this place.”
Spugliguel bowed in obedience. “Aye, Chief Prince.”
Lucifer walked the ground, and his eyes darted back and forth while hundreds of attendants in tow surveyed the land. He gestured with his hand in a sweeping motion.
“I want this area seeded with grass. When my feet walk its surface, I desire to feel nothing but lushness beneath. Caracasa and Commissoros see to the flora. I command that every tree and vine which bringeth forth fruit and is sweet to the taste, every tree which delights the soul be planted within.”
“El’s will be done,” they said and swiftly flew off to parts unknown.
Lucifer looked to his Archon of agriculture and fecundity Habuiah. “Let us begin my friend. El’s will be done.”
“As you command, Chief Prince,” Habuiah replied.
Habuiah flew into the air. His transparent wings created wind gusts around him. He rose to a level so that he could see all of the region commanded by Lucifer and spoke the Elomic commands unique to his charge as Archon of all agriculture.
“Let there be growth.”
The ground of the region, all 100 furlongs square, beckoned to his command. A pulse of light emanated from Habuiah. He dove into the ground and drove his giant fists into the earth, and as a stone is thrown into water, wave after circular wave, emanated from him and dissipated only at the edge, of the soon to be garden.
Each wave pulsated across the landscape leaving behind acres of green and lush grass throughout the region. A blanket of emerald green: a 100-furlong meadow of jade and blossoms, soft to the touch and ripe with the smell of freshness, covered the dark earth of Eden. The Elohim present with Habuiah flew into the air to prevent crushing the new growth that rose from beneath their feet.
Commissoros and Caracasa returned from gathering the selected seeds from the earth. As honey bees returned to the hive, the duo released the various seedlings from the pouches within their flesh. Each grasped a handful and tossed the assortment of seed into the air.
Yoniel, one of the keepers of the North wind, then blew, and the seeds flew gently throughout the air, ever so delicately. Yoniel blew in such a way that each seed moved to its appointed place and rested on the grass below. The coverage of the seedlings was uniform throughout Eden.
Habuiah spoke to the ground and all that lay therein. “Come forth!”
The kernels within each shell split, and roots shot into the earth. Tendrils of plants delved to find a home in the black soil beneath the carpeted grass. Like a legion of undead rising from the grave, trees clawed through the surface and reached skyward. Limbs yawned, as one would awake from a morning sleep. The yawns of banana, pear, apple, and various other trees cracked and groaned as bark snapped and splintered in their desire to accelerate and grow, racing to fulfill the will of El.
Smiling, Lucifer looked upon the new forest made before him. His created work sang with the sounds of new life and moved to the tempo of his directives, as an orchestra would follow a conductor. He was pleased. The vision of his mind became a reality before his eyes; Lucifer smiled and saw that it was good.
********************
Michael had never seen Heaven so somber as in these last few hours.
First, there was Saesheal who was and then was not.
Apollyon, who exercised his own will above El’s, and now had caused the horrific dissolution of a fellow Elohim.
Angels of all castes, races, and station had come to witness this new sight. A crowd formed as silent and confused onlookers watched several members of the royal court force march Apollyon towards the mount of God.
Sariel and Jerahmeel walked behind him, and each held a chain from a hook attached to an iron collar clamped tightly around his neck. Apollyon staggered as he walked with his head held high and pulled reluctantly in defiance while Michael and Talus yanked forcibly on chains attached to his wrists to drag him forward. He walked slowly, for manacles bound his ankles and wrists.
Apollyon writhed like a rabid dog and cursed obscenities at his captors and those spectators who looked ruefully upon him.
Apollyon could hear their sneers.
“How could he?” one said.
“Look at him!” said another.
“Let him reap what he has sowed!”
Then out of the crowd, Apollyon heard the words that now defined him. “Away with you, Destroyer!” an onlooker cried out.
Apollyon smiled and reveled in the acrimony.
“Dogs of El,” he said, “thank the creator that I am restrained, or I would bring dissolution to you all! False brethren you are. I call Heaven and Earth against you that I shall see Heaven razed, and I shall bask in its flames. Look upon me and see. You will all beg to allow me to release you to join Corlus.”
Apollyon laughed, and some angels picked up pieces of earth and rock to throw at him. Apollyon covered his face but allowed the tokens of his tormentor’s angst to fuel his rage.
“Yes, remember this day. I have committed slaughter in Heaven. Let my name be chronicled throughout Grigoric history. My hands have brought dissolution this day, and my vengeance shall find you out. Remember Corlus, for he shall not be the last!”
Michael and his brethren finally arrived at the foot of the mount of God. They approached the stairwell to escort Apollyon to the altar. The doors of the temple flew open, and the Ophanim descended like lightning to the gold steps below.
They flung great arcs of voltage about them and formed an impenetrable wall to prevent Michael and the others from bringing Apollyon any closer. They screeched, as their wheels turned as a grating sound as irritating as the scraping of fingernails over slate. Their eyes moved as they scanned and probed over every person within sight. They were living balls of rotating lightning, and they crackled, flashed, and barred entry to the temple of God.
The glorious figure of El then stepped through the temple doors.
His presence made all shades of darkness flee as the new day’s sun banishes night. The multitudes of Heaven prostrated themselves to the ground.
The Ophanim moved like humming birds, and the sound of swarming bees emanated from their bodies. They darted like Dobermans over the congregation, and with a bloodhound’s tenacity, they scrutinized any gesture or body movement from anyone who would dare raise their head to look at El.
No one moved.
All sat still, knowing that the creator of the ends of the earth had stepped from the temple, and He was not pleased.
Some Elohim shuddered in fear of attack.
All peripherally watched as the Ophanim explored the corners of the city and whizzed like giant mosquitoes over the heads of the populace.
Then as if recalled to heel, they dashed like a school of fish disturbed and rested in front of the princes who held Apollyon to form what could best be described, as an impenetrable electrified screen.
Apollyon stepped back and covered his face to shield himself.
The Ophanim seemed anxious to shred him in their wheels of grinding flesh.
Like guard dogs leashed yet itching and ready
to attack, they aggressively moved towards the party; their mouths salivated and with scarlet eyes. They stood by on El’s command, ready to devour them all.
Then El spoke. “Lumazi release your charge.”
Michael and his brethren quickly released their chains and without prompt slowly backed away from Apollyon, grateful to place distance between themselves and the Ophanim.
Apollyon, who had boasted earlier, now kowtowed like the rest; and where his swagger had arrogantly flaunted itself throughout the public square: now cowered with his hands over his head and his face bowed down. Where brazen and predictive declarations once ran away from his lips, only pleas of mercy now filled his mouth.
The princes backed ten paces away from Apollyon; then the Ophanim swarmed him.
They whirled around his person, cut into his flesh, and lifted his body from the ground. As their gyroscopic bodies attacked him, his chains severed and disintegrated before they could touch the ground.
Like a cloud of locusts, they ripped into his flesh, biting, gnawing, and stabbing him with teeth that retracted in and out. Apollyon's body twisted in agony, and his screams mingled in a horrific harmony of song to the buzz of the Ophanims grinding wheels.
His tortured screams echoed across the palace courtyard, and the host of Heaven could do nothing but look on in intimidated wonderment, awed by the wrath of the living God.
“Apollyon Son of the Dawn, thou hast been warned of rage's specter. Only he that is of a pure heart shall find me; yet now thy search hast found me as Righteous Judge and what is this– that Corlus’ blood crieth to me from Limbo? Because thou hast scarred thyself and defiled the name of your birth, and thy rage against me and thy tumult hast come up into mine ears, therefore, I will put my hook in thy nose and my bridle in thy lips, and I will turn thee back by the way which thou camest. ‘Destroyer’ thou hast embraced, and Abaddon shalt thou be. From the furnace of the Kiln wast thou taken and to the furnace of Hell shalt thou return.”
