by Nathan Parks
She sat down in her chair. Leaning forward, she placed her arms on the table top and just looked into the eyes of these two warriors—one mortal and one immortal. How fitting it seemed; it was the epitome of everything the Alliance stood for, everything for which she had fought throughout the ages.
“I don’t know. All I know is that I am to appear before them in a hearing on the effectiveness of my leadership and the ability I have to continue to carry out the will of Jah without question, even if that means to allow the Fallen to gain ground against mortal man.” The last part came out with inky bitterness. “Before we head into Patmos, I want to express to you both my heart. You both are warriors and true leaders.
“Troy, you have served both in the Army of mortals and alongside immortals. You are very aware of those individuals you would trust always with your life and with whom you would, without hesitation, go fully into battle. You are one of those men. You have shown strength beyond what many Fallen have even shown. We know how relentless they are,” she laughed.
This brought a little joviality to the stiff air that was hovering over them. They each had good memories upon their thoughts, and she wanted them to stay that way.
“Ki, no matter what happens with the Council today, you know what needs to be done. You know what is going on around here, and you also know that someone needs to follow up with Isaiah. I believe that Alfonso’s work with us lives on through him, and I think he may be onto something. Alfonso never did anything just to do it, and you can be sure if he sent Isaiah his notes . . . and on a trip into Hecate’s territory . . . there is something to discover there.”
Ki nodded but said nothing. He wouldn’t right now. His stoic heart was steady as he prepared to walk with his leader to Patmos.
“Well,” Leah said as she pushed herself away from the table, “let’s do this.”
The three were silent as they made their way into the center of the Sanctum to where the room, or gateway, known as Patmos was located. They were all familiar with the traditions and protocol that went with the usage of this gateway into Scintillantes. It had become second nature to the trio and, even under these circumstances, each step was followed to the exact requirements.
Soon they were inside the circular room; and Leah closed her eyes, longing for the music that filtered through Patmos to sooth the tempest within her. She ached deep inside her center. She hadn’t felt this before; the pain seemed to be increasingly spreading outward, and with it, she felt anxiety and even anger.
She knelt on the cushions that circumvented the shaft of light that was found in the center of the room stretching from a white cubical altar to the ceiling. There was a sweet smell of incense that teased at her senses. Briefly she felt a warm, gentle breeze touch her skin. A peace seemed to linger, then vanish.
The troubled Angel opened her eyes and allowed her gaze to fall on her partners. They were in meditation, so she knew that the gateway would be opened. It required a link of meditation and prayers to stabilize for anyone to travel through the gateway.
She stood. She took in a deep breath, pulled the hood over her hair, closed her eyes, exhaled, and then stepped into the path of light.
Chapter Eleven
The rush of eternity in just one moment is something that can never really be understood until it is experienced. “In a way nauseating,” Leah whispered to herself as she stepped into the Hall of Heroes, the other end of Patmos.
She pulled the hood back from her head and allowed it to hang down. Her crimson hair flowed down from her head, over her shoulders and the hood, and halfway down her back.
She scanned the corridor. She had heard rumors about an addition to the statue collection and wanted to see if they were true. Her steps echoed off the colorful marble as she left the corridor in which she had arrived and headed to the center. Any time an addition to the Hall was made—which it had been some time since that had happened—the new statute would be placed for a time in the center rotunda near the large fruit-bearing tree and then would be moved to its permanent space along the wall of one of the corridors that stretched out like the spokes of a wheel.
“There you are, Old Man.” She smiled as she looked upon the statue of a much younger-looking Alfonso, younger than when he had been taken by Denora’s torture. The image was most likely from when he first was chosen as a young man to become a Watcher. “How I hope that your eternity is beyond your imagination. You were so much to more people then you will ever know.”
She kissed her fingertips and touched the cheek of the statue. She took one last look and turned and headed toward the doors that would lead her to the outside and closer to her meeting with the Arch Council.
◆◆◆
The Hall of the Arch Council was buzzing with activity as everything was being prepared. Nemamiah had arrived early in order to mentally prepare herself for what lay ahead. Inwardly she was in much turmoil over all that would be dealt with in this meeting, and the Council was well aware of her disagreements on it all. She knew she would have the chance to voice her opinions when the time came, but she was also certain that nothing she said would sway Michael. She paced the hall as she went over in her head what her argument would be. Her fingers traced the smooth curves of one of the seven clay pots that lined the room; she could almost feel the vastness that was within those pots.
“Leah, Leah, Leah, did I not warn you? Did I not tell you that you were your own enemy? Can I protect you this time?”
Others were moving in and out of the room as they were setting it up, but another female’s voice spoke out over all the commotion, “You can’t save those who don’t wish to be saved, Nemamiah.” It was the voice of Gabriel as she entered and spotted her fellow Council member.
“Do you think she has been given a just cause, Gabriel? Honestly? When did we reach out to her after Joan? When did we really give her a chance to heal, and then we threw her Eve? Is it really her fault that we lost Eve or was it the free choice of Eve?”
Gabriel raised her hand, stopping the Archangel from continuing. “This isn’t the time. There are too many people moving in and out of the hall, and you know we are not going to settle anything between us.”
“No, but maybe I can get you to understand what I am trying to say; and we can save one of our best Guardians.”
“That is why we are having this hearing today.” It was Metatron. He had just walked in to catch the end of the conversation between his two counterparts. “You are right, Nemamiah. She is one of our best; but, no matter, we must ensure she is still one of our best or if she has fallen short.”
“How? By crucifying her?”
Metatron motioned for everyone else to leave the room as he closed the doors. “I am not here to crucify her. I am here to finally put an end to this Jerusalem Breed issue and help all of us move on. If by chance, in this, we discover that she did not perform her duties as a leader of the Alliance in her area . . . well, we will deal with that as it arises. My hope is that it won’t, and we can all leave here with a better understanding.”
“Pardon my choice of words here,” Nemamiah spoke softer but still agitated, “but I smell a witch hunt here. It has been five years since Eve chose to walk her own path. Five years, and now we are hoping to ensure someone takes the fall for allowing the only Jerusalem Breed left to walk away from the table and become a renegade. I only fear that, in finding someone to blame for such a mistake, we will discover we have been the author of yet another one.”
“A mistake?” This time they all turned as the last of the Arch Council members walked in. Michael walked in with authority and strength. He was not looking forward to today, but he also was a warrior. A warrior never relished battle but understood necessity was necessity.
“No, Michael, not a mistake, although one maybe could label it that. It is making another renegade.”
“Do you think that is what will happen if today’s Council does not go in Leah’s favor? You think she will choose that?”
&nbs
p; Only silence met his question as none of the Council members wanted to admit what they all were thinking. Maybe Nemamiah was correct. Maybe this was just a façade to pin some crucial mistakes on one who seemed fragile, anyway; however, not a single individual was talking.
“So be it,” the brawny Archangel stated solemnly as he sat down at his place behind the Council table. “It will be her choice. We will not be the ones to put her there. I know that is not anything any of us will offer as a solution to all of this, but none of us can stop her from any choices she will make.”
“We can’t?” Nemamiah protested. “Really? So that is the way we work? You can live with yourself knowing that when we have needed her to do something, she has done it even if she did not agree to it . . . no questions asked?”
“She has done it?” Michael’s voice was starting to rise. “She has done it? Really? So, when we told her to step back from Joan and allow the Fallen to take her, she did? So, she protected Eve as much as she could with the resources we gave her?” His fist came down upon the polished stone table. “Shall I go into how we have told her over and over to allow the Clans to fight amongst themselves and to stay out of it, yet continually she has stepped into the paths of the Fallen? To my understanding, she even had her team enter a nest last night!
“Do I need to remind you that each of us has made costly choices; and, in an attempt to fix the repercussions of those choices, we needed Leah to just do a simple thing: FOLLOW OUR COMMANDS? Is there anyone within this room that is willing to just step forward and admit to the mistakes we have made since the War of the Serpents; or are we determined to ensure we can fix those mistakes at our level?”
“And,” Nemamiah quizzed, “are we not to stand against the onslaught of the Fallen, Michael, or have you forgotten who we are and why we even exist? Sure, we asked Leah to step back from Joan; yet when she didn’t and Joan was still lost, we blamed her!”
Michael was standing again as he leaned forward over the table, eyes flashing. “Do not question me, Nemamiah, or my actions! You forget that I am the head of the Council here! Don’t YOU forget that I was the very one who stood staring the Morning Star in his eyes daring him to take me on during the War of the Serpents! I am . . .”
“‘I am’? ‘I am’? ‘I am’? I do recall those very words falling from the lips of one who once sat in your very seat, Michael . . . or was it more like “I will . . . ‘I will ascend’? Yes, I think those were the words Lucifer stated in this very hall before his counterparts stormed the hall to kick off the very war of which you are speaking!” The hall fell silent as every head turned toward the Angel standing right inside the doors, her hair framing her face, and her white hoodie slightly unzipped. “But please, don’t let me stop you! You were being so eloquent in your statements.”
Leah stood there, not flinching and showing no emotion to the four members of the Council. She was there not to make friends, and she was pretty sure that the majority of them—if not all of them—felt the same. This was no “kumbaya” meeting.
◆◆◆
The Arch Council was seated, and Leah took her place in a seat in front of the Council table facing her peers. Her jaw was clenched, and she had to keep reminding herself to loosen her fingers from the tight fist into which they were balled. She was ready for a fight.
How ironic that it had come to this: fighting her own. Were they not the ones she should be looking to for help, leadership, and guidance? How was it then that they were the very individuals who, for their own “sake of power” (as she saw it), were now looking to turn her into an example for any other Alliance leader who would stand for the truth, even if that truth seemed to go against the Council?
Michael had several organized stacks of notes, but he didn’t even bother looking at them. She was sure he had planned this out very strategically, and he would attempt to orchestrate it all like a conductor would a symphony.
“Leah, you are aware of why we are here today, correct?”
She nodded, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer. They would draw this out for as long as it would take to make them feel good, and then the gavel would fall. “Has the thirst of mankind’s religious power bled into the hearts of the Council?” she thought with a hint of sadness.
“Leah, I know that you believe we are out to get you. You have thought that for so long, and nothing this Council has been able to do has kept you from assuming you knew our intent. Sadly enough, your own paranoia has brought us to where we are today.”
“And where is that, Michael?” Nemamiah asked, leaning over so that she could better see to her right where Michael sat. “I know that Leah states that she knows why she is here, but I want it officially stated here. I want it in the records why we brought one of our best leaders—one that we, at one time, considered to even sit alongside us—to this inquisition.”
Metatron reached over and placed his hand on Nemamiah’s. “Careful, My Friend, let the process balance itself out. You are not the only one here who stands for justice.”
Nemamiah’s hands trembled as she managed to keep her cool, but her eyes were flashing with anger and determination. This was wrong!
Michael pulled a piece of parchment from one of his stacks and began to read out loud. “On the basis of clear and open disregard to orders to stand down from specific areas of operation of the Fallen, Leah, you are being brought before this court to determine your status as an Alliance leader. It is to be determined if you have acted upon your own will and not on the will of Jah. Further, it is to be determined if there are any signs of the darkness within you that has caused so many of our brothers and sisters to become what is known as creatures of the dark, the Fallen. Further action will be based upon the findings of this Council.
“Furthermore, if it is determined that you are not guilty of any of these charges, all dealings in these matters will be closed and forgotten.”
“By whom? The will of Jah? Who knows even if Jah’s will is even what drives anything? What about the will of the almighty Council?” Leah whispered to herself.
Metatron was writing something down as Michael read from the decree. Leah had always felt that Metatron, a keeper of records for so long, really should understand her struggle with the Arch Council; but at times, she felt a dark cloud between them. He looked up from whatever it was he was writing as Michael stopped, and he looked at her. His eyes were set, and she could not determine how he felt about this.
Metatron indicated that he wanted a moment to speak. As he did so, he reached down to one side and grabbed something. “Michael, we are here to determine if this gallant leader has been faithful to our cause and to determine if she is still loyal . . . correct?”
“In certain terms,” Michael responded, “but, not meaning any disrespect to what you are about to say, Metatron, there is a process to this, and we are getting ahead of ourselves.”
“Oh, forget the process, Michael! Can’t your stiff, analytical, by-the-book self just give this a break?” Metatron raised his voice as his fist slammed down. “We are not strangers here, and we all know that this is nothing less than a lynching!”
Leah’s eyebrows raised as her eyes became round with surprise. She had come here with the belief that she would be the one standing with anger and raised voice, defending herself. She wasn’t sure what to make of what she was hearing.
“Stand down, Metatron!” Michael raised his voice to match the tone of his fellow Council member. “Do you not see what this whole situation—caused by her rebellion—is doing to us all? Here we are now, fighting. Is this not what rebellion and her choice to go against our orders bring?”
“Disregard? To whom, Michael? You? What is it that you have against her? I have records here from Watchers who have stated nothing but the opposite . . . showing she has been nothing but a stellar leader and warrior!”
Gabriel gasped in disbelief as Metatron threw what appeared to be a book of antique fashion on to the table. “Where did you get that?
Eternals are not to have access to the records of the Watchers! You know that!”
Nemamiah pushed back from the table as if the book itself was the disease of the Fallen. It might as well have been, for pride was one key that would open the door for the darkness to take root in the being of an Eternal. The records of a Watcher were never to be seen by an Eternal but were only for the purpose of ensuring historical accuracy and for mortals to discover the mysteries of Jah on earth.
Every eye was upon Metatron as he stood there, his chest rising and falling with anger as he looked at Michael. “Why should it not be here? Forget who gave it to me . . . but why not? Will the truth be seen, or is this Council here to burn this soldier of the Alliance upon stakes of hypocritical notions of what is right and wrong for our own power? Is that of Jah?”
Leah couldn’t breathe. She had stood up and was looking at the book that was only a few feet from her. An Eternal rarely laid eyes upon the cover of the record of their existence. She knew that, even though it seemed to be one volume, this most likely was a compilation of many different things and not the detailed records that would be fully hidden until needed by Jah.