by Donovan Neal
“Speak. What troubles you?” Talus commanded.
The attendant turned the book around and pointed to the letters that emblazoned slowly within its pages.
Talus looked, and his countenance paled.
“Michael, do you see?” Talus asked.
“Aye," Michael answered. “There can be no doubt now. Sariel and the others must be informed immediately.”
The text of the page was unmistakable. There was no listing for any future meetings with El past the sixth creation event. Only one word stood out in blood red cursive angelic script.
D-E-S-T-R-O-Y-E-R
********************
“Apollyon Son of the Dawn, stand down immediately!”
Morael an angel who stood by the bridge between the third and second heaven, and who granted entry into Heaven had come. He stood now in front of the gaping hole made by Apollyon’s impact.
“You and Ashtaroth have caused enough damage this day. Do not compound your failure. Stand down now and be judged!”
Apollyon looked upon him, scowled, and wiped the spittle from his mouth to speak.
“Judged? Which of you would dare judge me? False you are! Depart from me! None here I call kindred. For my brother is shame, my sister failure. No Guard of Heaven; you all have disdained me. You all are simply too cowardly to admit it. I am alone. Ashtaroth was correct when he named me ‘Destroyer’ and rightly so.”
Apollyon’s voice grew shrill and harsh, and his sarcasm filled the ears of any present to listen.
“Come let us reason together Morael. You will be the first to witness the ‘New Dawn’.” Apollyon reached into his chest and revealed his sigil the carved stone that bore the name given by El to every Elohim.
“I renounce Apollyon, the name of my creation, and my creator; a new name shall I now pronounce.”
He used his talon and deliberately began to deface and scored out his given name, and Heaven beheld an act of sacrilege never before seen.
“That creature no longer exists…,” Apollyon declared.
Morales screamed, “Apollyon, No!”
Apollyon saw Morael standing before him, but his words were ignored. In the sight of all, Apollyon scarred his sigil. His Heartstone darkened from the alteration, the burning light of the sun contained in its fire went out, and his stone became disfigured. His body rapidly changed color to a dark and fiery hue. Bony protrusions emerged from his spine, and mouths of flame erupted from his shoulders. His Heartstone pulsated violently, and there swirled a blackness within as if something alive, wanted to escape.
“…Abaddon shall I be.”
Abaddon then charged the angel, this creature who dared position himself between predator and prey. Abaddon flew headlong into Morael and slammed into the would-be protector of Ashtaroth. Disbelief filled with fear overwhelmed Morale’s mind on his witness of Abaddon’s purposeful self-injury. Morael placed his hands in front of him to try to protect his face and screamed out in pain upon Abaddon’s bearish assault.
The two angels flew into a wall of another building, and stone and mortar blew apart around them. The explosive impact shook the ground and shattered nearby windows. The affected structure began to teeter, moan; and ache as its shifted weight buckled under pressure and duress. The roof collapsed and buried Morael and Abaddon in a blanket of rubble.
A momentary pause of silence allowed injured onlookers to move quickly in order to escape the destruction. The rubble began to heave, and the sound of movement emanated from the center of the debris field.
Abaddon soon rose from the wreckage, as a person come ashore from the raging sea; dirt and fragments of wood and stone slid off his large frame, and as a man might hold a cat by its scruff: Abaddon held the unconscious Morael by the collar of his heavenly robes. Blood and water streamed from his limp body. Abaddon dragged the broken and bruised body of the angel from the rubble and stood defiantly as his leathery wings projected a dark shadow over him so that only the luminance from his eyes were seen, eyes which smoldered with a yellowish glow. Abaddon threw with disdain the bruised and broken body of Morael, Guard of Heaven, into the street for all to see and then contemptuously spoke to the gathered crowd.
“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.”
“Anytime, 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 a 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 dyi
ng 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 the 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 the 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 leaped 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 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 the 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 Northwind, 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 befo
re 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.
