Lilith: Eden's Planetary Princess (The Michael Archives Book 1)

by Robinson, C. E.

  Just like Angels, it can be difficult to determine a Melchizedek’s age just by looking at their faces. The female Melchizedek’s light green square face appeared quite young. But as Raphael stared at her, the worry in her eyes dated this Melchizedek as ancient, quite possibly far older than Raphael herself.

  “I am Qing Melchizedek,” she said quietly. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival, ancient warrior.”

  Still holding Raphael’s hand, she looked down at the pavement as they walked, shaking her head as if she was being led to a guillotine.

  Above each portal was a sign that identified the type of traveler who should enter. Entry was based more on mission than rank. Above the portal that Qing Melchizedek led Raphael, were the two simple letters, ‘MM’. Raphael was surprised. She was accustomed to entering Norlatiadek as an assassin. To enter as a Mighty Messenger left her with a feeling of foreboding. No wonder Qing Melchizedek looks worried.

  Raphael hardly noticed the security guards and all the noise as they walked downstairs and entered into the large receiving areas. Here, weary travelers could rest, bathe, eat, contact friends, and meet with guides or advisors.

  Qing gestured toward food services, but Raphael shook her head no. She had no need for food. Soon she would insert her primary package into Eden and then leave for Oceania. There she could remove all her travel gear, secure her remaining packages, eat, and take rest. To do any of that now would be nothing more than a delay.

  “Sit comfortably,” Qing said, ignoring Raphael’s ‘no’.

  Raphael pulled out a chair and sat. Qing sat across from her as a barmaid arrived. Raphael pointed to her favorite drink on the menu without speaking.

  “If not already, soon they will,” Qing said.

  Raphael understood. It would not be long before the news of her arrival on Oceania leaked out. She took off her mask, goggles, and gloves, and then pulled back her hood.

  The barmaid came back with two large glasses, seeming to already know what Qing wanted to drink. Seeing Raphael’s face produced no particular reaction beyond an accepting smile. “I am happy to see you again sister. I shall pray for you.”

  Qing seemed to have no further desire to talk, so Raphael casually looked around as she relaxed and sipped her drink. The area was surrounded by a large toroid-shaped platform similar to the one above. It was divided into numerous segments.

  Flowing away from each segment were the individual streams to take a traveler in their desired direction to the various systems within Norlatiadek. Here the energy circuits that had originated from the solar orbs of those various systems were channeled and reoriented, designed and regulated specifically for departures, with smooth and gentle streams for the traveler to enter.

  Upon leaving Edentia, according to their destinations, travelers would systematically transit down to the slower circuits. The entry and exit portals for the Cytometric Flow Conduits were located deeper within the constructs of Edentia. Those portals required a much higher level of individual identification and clearance.

  Qing insisted that Raphael rest for a few more hours after finishing her drink. Afterward, she led Raphael directly to the segment for travelers going south, the fastest route to Oceania. Raphael had said nothing about her destination, so she assumed Qing Melchizedek had read all this information from her bracelet.

  As they reached the edge, Qing Melchizedek stopped in front of Raphael. She grasped Raphael’s other hand and held both of them tightly, staring up into her eyes.

  “So the time has finally come,” Qing Melchizedek said quietly.

  Raphael subtly nodded her head.

  “Your mission is bound by the hand of Queen Magdalene Herself. The Thrones have finally tired of Eden’s sin.”

  Raphael again nodded her head.

  Qing Melchizedek reached up with trembling lips, kissing Raphael on one cheek, then the other. “May the blessings of Havona be upon you sister,” she said, then moved out of the way, and watched as Raphael calmly walked to the edge, pulled on her mask, goggles, and gloves, then covered her short blond hair with her hood and tied it.

  In a maneuver made smooth and easy by billions of years of practice, Raphael leaned forward and disappeared into the flow of the Ashti energy circuit without making as much as a ripple.

  Qing Melchizedek stared at the beautiful flow for a moment, and then turned back to her duties, speaking softly to herself.

  “And now El Elyon’s peace-loving Healer has again entered into the field of battle. Again, you have become Havona’s Assassin. Yet this time, as more than just a simple assassin. You have brought the Cataclysm with you upon your back. I fear for the terrible purpose of Uncle Karl’s arrival.”

  Chapter 71

  Arrogance: The Satanist’s Best Sin

  It’s easy for arrogance to overwhelm intellect. Happens to me all the time. However, as a credit to them, and luckily for us, the Cardinals have somehow turned arrogance into an art form.

  —Kuko

  Elysium

  For 5,700 years, Cardinal Ziminiz had watched Indra’s power grow after Kuko Kiena and her team had confiscated Elysium for Indra. Ziminiz had waited for the perfect opportunity to defeat the Nazz, drive them from Eden forever, and take possession of the splendid heaven known as Elysium.

  Even to a mind as arrogant as his, Ziminiz knew any full frontal assault against a fortress like Elysium would be fruitless. But clearly, with a covert attack from within Elysium, he could easily destroy the Nazz.

  There were treaties in place that prohibited exactly what he had just done. Yet, it was acceptable, because his illustrious God, Prince Satan had instructed him to regard all treaties as a matter of convenience — techniques used to stall an enemy until you could execute your own plans for conquest.

  Ziminiz had known for over eighty years that Lord Smigyl would be visiting Planet Eden en route to Salvington. Satan appeared to him in a dream and told him so. At hearing the news that Lord Smigyl would stay on Elysium, he began to think that Smigyl’s visit must be a joint effort between Smigyl and Satan to conquer the Nazz. His belief was verified when he received the news that one million Cardinals had been invited to witness the crowning of Whore Kiena as Planetary Princess.

  It was ludicrous to believe that the brilliant and highly rational Lord Smigyl, who knew better than any that all females were nothing more than play toys and fetus factories, could possibly do something so irrational as make Kiena Planetary Princess without an ulterior motive.

  Ziminiz would never risk any type of direct communication with Smigyl to coordinate the attack. But really. What was the point? The great Lord Smigyl’s plans were clear. Now, one million Cardinals were in the exact center of Indra’s power structure. The great Lord Smigyl had done his part. It was time for Ziminiz and his indomitable Cardinals to do their part. Now that they were in the heart of Elysium, slaughtering the mindless Nazz would be trivial.

  Cardinal Ziminiz waited in his luxurious transport craft, delighting in how the different Overlord families fled Elysium, with the terrified Children of Luminosity leading the pack. He knew his plans were yielding perfect success because he saw no Nazz fleeing. Obviously, his powerful Cardinals were slaughtering them. Ziminiz could not wait until a Nazz representative came out waving a white flag. He would personally put Whore Kiena’s head on a pike and triumphantly claim Elysium for himself.

  General Borgia’s experience within The Grand Reception Hall, however, was somewhat different than Ziminiz imagined. Borgia had been so certain of an easy victory that he was too busy giving out instructions to his subordinates to notice a swath of red capes falling. Some sort of bizarre, unstoppable threshing machine was chopping down his troops, creating a path headed directly for him.

  General Borgia realized it was not a machine, but rather the unthinkable — Castor Mayhew was still alive. Borgia’s archers had been given strict orders to kill the dull-witted Mayhew just as soon as they had killed Whore Kiena. But there he was, glowing silver in the hea
t of combat.

  As Borgia searched for an escape route, he witnessed the decapitation of his last two bodyguards. An instant later, Borgia’s sword vanished from his hand. Not one but two silver flames towered over him. Mayhew held his bloody sword out to his side in his left hand. The other silver flame held his bloody sword out to his right side.

  “Impossible. You’re supposed to be dead,” he cried, finally recognizing Kuko Kiena.

  Kuko and Castor slowly looked at each other and then back to Borgia.

  “General Borgia,” Castor Mayhew said flatly. “So many times I have heard the enemies of Nazz Madame General Kuko Kiena say that exact thing. It gives me such great joy to hear those happy words exclaimed once again.”

  Kuko glared at him, her eyes silver with rage. Borgia waited for her to sever his head, but she did not. She just stood there with the blood of his troops dripping from its tip.

  “General Borgia,” Castor said. “It is unclear to us how Cardinal Ziminiz visualized the closure of these activities. Yet we thought it polite to explain to you our terms of surrender.” Castor blankly stared at Borgia, waiting for him to respond. Borgia did not.

  “There shall be no surrender,” Castor Mayhew continued. “All Cardinals and their servants involved in this unprovoked attack upon Elysium shall be divided into two groups — those whom we shall kill outright. And those whom we shall constrain for future questioning.” Castor fell silent, allowing time for Borgia to contemplate his words.

  “We also thought it polite to allow you a good vantage point from where to more clearly view the battle. If you would please accompany my assistant, she shall lead you to said vantage point. Now, please excuse us. We have more Cardinals to attend to.”

  At that, the threshing machine known as Kuko Kiena and Castor Mayhew continued the slaughter while Borgia was led to the viewing pyramid.

  When Kuko and Castor reached the far side of The Grand Reception Hall, they ascended the tall pyramid where Pope Hukarknar had set up his command post opposite of Indra’s. They sipped some mango juice while they carefully read the battle flags and hand signs dancing before them.

  Castor whipped a shuriken out of his belt and flung it to the balcony where Nazz archers stood. The star sliced off the ear of an archer. Castor threw another shuriken. This time, Kuko saw Castor’s target before it severed an ear. She searched for what had so distracted the archer, and to her horror, saw her daughters showing-off. The twins were grabbing each other’s hands and leaping in synchrony, attacking Cardinals.

  Kuko continued to sip her mango juice, wondering for a moment if they had just encountered a useful opportunity to employ such a showy, unorthodox technique. The twins looked around, found two targets, smiled, and leapt like dancers. Nearby, another Cardinal, who the twins could have stopped had they not been showing off, killed a Caligastian civilian.

  Kuko finished her drink, looked over the edge of the pyramid, located a trash container, and tossed the empty glass into the container’s exact center. She sat down on the edge of the table and stared at her bloody boots. Castor sat down beside her.

  “Castor, how many have we killed?” she asked.

  Castor said nothing.

  “I have no idea how many times I’ve looked at these blood-drenched hands...”

  She paused, rubbing her hands together. “I’m pretty good at killing, don’t you think?”

  Castor took a deep breath and sighed. “Yes sister, I believe the both of us are pretty good at killing. I have no idea how many we have killed by our own hands. And even less of an idea how many have been killed because of us. Billions? Before the outcome of the war for Eden is decided, there will probably be billions here upon this planet alone. How many must we kill to bring the Overlords to power over The Blind King? Before it’s over — trillions? Thousands of trillions?”

  Kuko continued to stare at her gloves. “And we’ll do it without a second’s hesitation, won’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked at him. “Then why should it be so hard for me to add my own blood to these gloves?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I know you love them, my brother.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But we have both talked till we’re blue in the face. I’ve bribed, threatened, beaten, begged for how many eons? Now, here we are in the middle of the real thing, and there they are, prancing around as our brothers fall all around them, and they don’t even notice.”

  Castor said nothing.

  “So now, my brother, it has finally come down to pride. My pride in thinking I’m a good mother. We both know we cannot allow pride in our immediate family to cause death in our extended family.”

  Kuko searched Castor’s eyes. She allowed a single tear for Erin to fall from her right eye, and a single tear for the other Erin to fall from her left. “Now a mother must do what the Nazz require a mother to do.”

  She stood, her legs shaky and weak. Castor stood beside her. For a moment, she considered jumping off the side and landing on her head to prevent any further failures as a mother, but a powerful arm wrapped around her waist.

  “Kuko, so many times I have told you I will stand at your side during all our trials. Whether it be happiness or sorrow, victory or defeat, life or death. So once again, I will stand at your side so that a mother can do what Nazz law requires a Nazz mother to do.”

  Hand in hand, they descended the pyramid and solemnly walked toward the twins who continued to show off their skills as their comrades fell unnoticed at their sides.

  Rickey Reinhardt made his way through the mayhem as quickly as he could. Lord Indra had given him an urgent message, and for a moment, he thought he might make it in time. But when he saw Kuko and Castor descend the pyramid and begin their trek to the Erin twins, his hope was dashed. No one could move through a battlefield faster than Kuko or Castor.

  “Left,” Castor called out quietly. Kuko saw the Cardinal who Castor referred to. She sliced with her sword and severed the tendons of his hand before he could pull an arrow. Then she flipped her sword and stabbed him through the heart.

  “Two back,” Kuko called calmly. In one motion, Castor extracted a dart from under his sleeve and threw it into the eye of another Cardinal.

  “Three thirty,” Kuko said. Castor’s sword sliced across the throat of a Cardinal who was about to shout a command.

  “Seven,” Castor called. Out of the corner of her eye, Kuko saw a massive black body in a torn red robe bearing down on her with a knife. She gracefully turned, slipped out of his way, pulled a shuriken from her belt, and continued to twist until she had a clear view of his back. She threw the shuriken, which sliced into the vertebrae at the base of his head. He slumped to the floor.

  She dreaded the confrontation with her daughters. She had been confronting them for years. They were usually responsive for a short time, but then they would resume their defiant ways. The older they got, the shorter their time of responsiveness. It was not their defiance that bothered her; it was that it led them to practices that weakened their discipline, their command abilities, and their fighting skills.

  As Kuko drew closer to them, she kept someone between her and the twins so she would suddenly be upon them, and they would be dead without even knowing she was in the area.

  Kuko saw Rickey running toward her on an intercept course with a note in his hand. She knew who had written the note and what it said. It would have been disrespectful to her God to not at least read his message, even if she knew she would ignore its content and continue in her duties as a Nazz mother.

  On the other hand, she was still a Nazz general first, and it was actually possible this was an order regarding the execution of the battle plan and not the execution of his two youngest daughters — but she doubted it. She knew Rickey would do his damnedest to deliver the message even if it entailed him recklessly risking his own life. She changed her direction in order to meet him sooner.

  “Thank you, Colonel Reinhardt,” she
said quietly as she held out her hand.

  ‘Please await my arrival’, the note said in Indra’s own script.

  She folded the note and slipped it into her pocket. “You may return to your duties Colonel Reinhardt. And I shall return to mine.”

  “Moth…” he started to protest.

  “What?” Kiena shouted, the tip of her sword at his throat.

  “Male? Is there something you wanted to say to me?” she hissed.

  A face Reinhardt thought he knew in all its forms changed into something he had never seen — something cold, dark, fearsome. Her sword’s razor-sharp tip backed him up slowly.

  Castor Mayhew walked up to her side and whispered in her ear. She contemplated his words for a few seconds, and then gave the subtlest of nods. She lowered her sword, turned around, and continued her march to the twins.

  Mayhew grabbed Rickey by the collar, jerked him closer, and slapped him harder than he had ever been slapped before.

  “How dare you invoke sympathy by calling her mother? If you ever come close to insulting a Nazz woman again in such a way, I will not be there to save you. Now. Go. And tell Indra that how a Nazz mother corrects dishonorable behavior in her own daughters is none of his fucking business.” Then he spun Reinhardt’s body toward Indra.

  Castor leaned forward and whispered softly into Rickey’s ear. “And please Rickey. Please say nothing more to Kuko about this. Don’t let me lose three loved ones today.”

  Castor turned around just in time to see Kuko reach out, and with one Erin’s head in each hand, she smashed their faces together.

  Both girls dropped to the floor. Without hesitation, Kuko pulled her sword, not wanting the countenance of an angry, heartbroken mother to be the last thing they saw as their Essences were propelled into the underworld.

  In a method he learned long ago from Guru Patanjali, Indra did not engage his mind; rather, his mind on its own accord engaged into the practice of Sanyama.