Rise of the Fallen

by Chuck Black

  He ran to Cadriel’s abode, but he was not there. Then to Persimus’s, but it too was empty. His own eyes began to fill with tears.

  He ran into the street and noticed that many angels were moving to the center of Zion, to the place of assurance, the Holy Mount of Elohim. He went too, calling for his friends. The angels still luminescent and holy gathered at the foot of the Holy Mount, near the Court of Presentation.

  “Cadriel! Persimus!” he called, searching the faces of hundreds of thousands of angels.

  “Validus!” The call was weak but familiar.

  He turned and pushed through the other angels.

  “Validus—over here!” The voice of Persimus.

  Validus’s soul erupted with joy, and tears spilled from his eyes. He ran to his friends, and they embraced.

  “Where is Niturni?” Cadriel asked, looking behind Validus.

  Validus lowered his head, unable to speak the words.

  “No,” Persimus whispered. “No!” he shouted. He fell to his knees, and Validus joined him. Cadriel knelt down and placed an arm on each of their shoulders.

  “Though they rise, they have fallen,” Cadriel said.

  “They have fallen indeed!” The powerful, deep voice of Michael filled the air around them. Validus looked up at the archangel hovering above them.

  “Rise up, my brothers. Rise up and prepare yourself—war has come to heaven!”

  Michael had not fallen, and he looked as mighty as Lucifer ever had. In his hand was something Validus had never seen before, yet he knew its name. Sword.

  Michael lifted his gaze from the trio to the gathering thousands in the Court of Presentation. He flew high enough for all to see.

  “Elohim is on the throne, and His judgment against Lucifer is sure.” He pointed his sword at the darkened figure in the distance. “No longer will we call him Lucifer. His name is Apollyon, for he has become a destroyer of all that is good, a leader of the Fallen.”

  It was a day of great sorrow and a day of infamy. It was the day sin was born, heaven wept, and a third of the servants of Elohim turned to darkness.

  It was also the day that turned the friend of Validus into an enemy.

  4

  REASSIGNED

  Present Day

  Validus, Am, and Brit entered the outskirts of Colorado Springs a few minutes later. Inside Living Waters Fellowship Church, Validus turned to his warriors.

  “Well done,” he said, then nodded to dismiss them.

  When he entered the large conference room near the sanctuary, Hulan was waiting for him.

  “Commander, we’ve just received new orders from headquarters.” Hulan handed the rolled parchment to his superior.

  Validus broke the seal and quickly read the orders. Confusion swept across his mind as he ran a hand through his jet-black hair. He read the orders once more and then struggled to hide his surprise and frustration from his executive officer.

  “When did these orders come in?”

  “Just a few minutes ago. I sent a dispatch to you immediately,” Hulan replied.

  Validus thought for a moment. “Report to Malak in sector six. Tell him I’ve gone to see Brandt at World Headquarters. He’s in charge until I return.”

  Hulan stared at his commander in silence.

  “Move it, Hulan! I need to leave immediately, and I want Malak on board.”

  “Yes sir!” Hulan snapped about and promptly exited the room.

  Validus stared after him, but he was not thinking of Hulan anymore. He was forming tactful words of protest to speak to General Brandt. He needed to make the trip quickly because there was too much happening in the eastern sector to be gone for more than an hour or two. New York City was a constant battle zone, but recent attacks on certain churches and church leaders there told Validus that the Enemy was planning something big, and probably soon.

  Validus waited for Hulan to finish his task, but with each passing moment he felt the frustration mounting. Surely these orders must be a mistake … but Brandt didn’t make mistakes, at least not any that Validus could remember.

  He rose up from his desk. It had been a long time since he had morphed his wings. In battle it was foolish, but it was necessary to get to World Headquarters. He concentrated and felt the push against his back. Two ivory-colored wings grew upward and outward until they stretched to fill the room.

  He faced east and accelerated through the walls and corridors of the church, hardly feeling the resistance of the brick and mortar as he passed through them. Outside, he launched himself upward, and his wings stroked the air in powerful bursts. He arced north around Bemus’s stronghold in upper New York and then exploded to full speed, skimming the edges of the cityscape until he was well over the Atlantic. He adjusted his course to a line that would bring him just south of Glasgow, Scotland, and in just a few minutes he was approaching the coastline of the United Kingdom.

  He slowed his approach as he neared the city, watching for any activity that might indicate he should take a different approach than usual. He landed just shy of Kempsthorn Road and demorphed his wings into his back. As he approached the abandoned Crookston Castle, two guards saluted and halted him.

  “I’m here to see General Brandt,” Validus told them.

  “He’s in the war room,” replied one of the guards.

  Validus nodded, then quickly proceeded through the corridors of the castle and down one of the stone stairways. He slipped through a door and into a large chamber that caused his mind to sweep through a hundred memories of the medieval days.

  Brandt was discussing tactics with another warrior angel. Validus approached them.

  “General Brandt, I’ve just received orders. There must be some mistake.” Validus stood with his shoulders square as he addressed the single highest angelic authority on earth. Already he regretted his words, for he realized how foolish they sounded. Validus cringed inwardly, being once more reminded why he was never chosen as a messenger.

  Brandt slowly looked up from the map he was studying and stared sternly at one of his best commanders. Validus considered trying to recover his words but decided to let them stand.

  Brandt motioned for his executive to leave and waited until the officer’s form disappeared through the heavy stone wall.

  “What are you doing here, Validus?” Brandt asked, his countenance easing slightly.

  Validus slipped through the crack in professional airs between ancient combatant comrades. He stepped forward and flipped the orders onto the desk before Brandt.

  “Why, Brandt? This makes no sense.”

  Brandt looked away from Validus’s hard stare.

  “You’ve assigned me to be”—Validus struggled to even say it—“an assistant to a guardian?” He leaned over and put both massive hands on the desk. “What is going on?”

  Brandt looked back at Validus quite fiercely. “The Guardian Order is an esteemed order. There is no calling higher than the protection of a believer or a child.”

  “Of course, but I’m to be an assistant? That’s not even full guardian status. Even if I were assigned as a guardian, you and I both know that I am not guardian material.”

  Brandt rubbed a powerful hand across the back of his neck. “Assigning you as an assistant was the only leeway I was given from the messenger. If I had assigned you to the Guardian Order, you could never come back under my command, Validus.” He let that sink in for a moment. “You would never be a warrior again. Is that what you want?”

  Validus had no reply. He stared at his commander for a moment, then straightened and walked away from the desk. He paused and then turned back to Brandt. “Did the messenger say why?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask,” Brandt replied. “I don’t like it either. This assignment will weaken our forces in America significantly. I have no one who can command our northern continental forces like you.” Brandt sighed. “But we both know there is a reason.”

  “How long ago did the messenger leave?” Validus asked, allowi
ng his frustration to seep through in his tone.

  “Just a few moments ago.”

  Validus nodded as his wings morphed once more into full spread. He readied to launch up through the ceiling after the signature silver streak of a messenger returning to heaven.

  “What are you doing?” Brandt stood and glared at his subordinate, stepping back behind the curtain of professional military formalities.

  “I intend to catch up with the messenger and get an explanation.”

  “Are you trying to offend me on purpose?” Brandt’s sharp reply put Validus on his heels.

  “No sir,” Validus replied respectfully, yet he remained determined.

  “You would never catch him anyway,” Brandt said.

  “Today I will,” Validus said flatly.

  “No, you won’t, and if you did, I don’t think he would take kindly to your questions.”

  Validus cocked his head. Messengers were held in the highest regard, for they carried the commands of Michael and, at times, the very words of Elohim.

  Brandt walked around his desk and came to stand eye to eye with Validus. He crossed his arms. “It was Gabriel.”

  Validus’s expression went blank. “Gabriel?” he said quietly.

  Validus could remember only three other times when Gabriel himself had delivered a message to the Warrior Order and only four times to men. Something significant was happening.

  Brandt returned to his desk. He resumed his perusal of the map. “Malak will assume command of the forces in America. You will find your charge and his guardian in Rivercrest, Kansas. The man’s name is Drew Carter.”

  Validus was still stunned by what was happening. “Drew Carter … Kansas,” he said numbly, slowly resigning himself to his new duty. He shook his head as if awakening from slumber. “General Brandt, Malak is not ready for such a command.”

  Brandt frowned. “Get him ready. He’s the best we’ve got right now. You know what we are facing here.”

  “What am I supposed to do? With Carter, that is?”

  Brandt looked up and clenched his jaw. His frustration was beginning to show. “He’s not a believer. Keep him alive … no matter the cost.” His eyelids closed to slits. “Do you understand?”

  Validus nodded, saluted, and walked to the door.

  “Validus,” Brandt called.

  Validus turned.

  “Tren is an experienced guardian. He’s in charge. You assist him.”

  Brandt didn’t wait for a reply. He looked back at his map. “Sutton,” he called, and his executive officer stepped through the wall.

  Dismissed, Validus walked through the door, then launched upward and west, toward the Atlantic. His speed was slower than before. He needed time to think.

  As a second-generation warrior, he had walked the earth as a protector of man since the Great Deluge. For nearly five thousand years he had watched humans perfect the art of war, and he had learned from them. At first the warrior angels were hesitant to embrace the ingenious tactics of assault, but the Fallen’s relentless pursuit of utter destruction forced the warriors of Elohim to adapt or be dissolved.

  Validus became a student of war, its weapons, and its tactics. With the rise of new empires came new weapons and new methods of war. Validus mastered them, for he knew that the success of the Plan depended on it. The first generation of warriors had failed because they were slow to adapt, and when they finally did, it was too late. The evil of humanity, through the influence of the Fallen, had become too great to overcome.

  Through the ages, Validus was perpetually surprised by the creativity and proclivity of humans to advance their own devices of destruction. As knowledge increased, so did the skill of man’s ability to make war. Hand-to-hand combat techniques evolved through the centuries to a masterful and almost artistic perfection, and Validus learned them all.

  Across the millennia, Validus had witnessed the miracles of Elohim, the destruction of entire cities, the preservation of the righteous, the propagation of evil, and a thousand wars between the races of men. He had risen from the least through the ranks of warrior angels until he’d been given command of the North American continent, and now with the stroke of a pen he had been demoted to a guardian assistant.

  Had he done something wrong?

  Or was it that this one man, this Drew Carter, would play a significant role in the future of humanity?

  5

  THE HALL OF VISION

  2468 BC

  Validus stood on the shore of the great sea in heaven, wrestling with his thoughts once again. There was so much he didn’t understand … Some of it he didn’t want to understand.

  Humanity regarded Adam and Eve’s first sin as the Fall, but from the perspective of Validus and the other angels, the Fall happened that fateful day when Apollyon, in incomprehensible pride, lifted his fist to Elohim and said, “I will rise above You!” Validus had never been tempted to follow the great Deceiver, and that was what confused him. How could so many perfect angels have fallen and embraced the rebellion of Apollyon? Validus could not escape the endless puzzle of it all—the pain, suffering, strife, death, and severed friendships … even severed brothers. Why, Niturni … why did you fall?

  Validus let the calm of the sea massage his mind. The distant chime of the ringing cliffs sang to him in resonant tones of varying pitch, beckoning him to peaceful thoughts. He filled his lungs with the fresh and fragrant air of the sea, allowing his mind to calm and settle. His disturbing thoughts diminished and eventually disappeared.

  All but one. This one never left his mind, and although it was a question regarding his great Lord, it did not cause him to question his devotion or loyalty to his King.

  Why hadn’t Validus been chosen to defend humanity against Apollyon’s evil army? Was it because he was the last angel created? The last and the least? So many of his brothers had gone and were at this very moment fighting for the glory of Elohim and for the implementation of a plan to deliver both realms from the disease of sin.

  Validus wondered if such a thing were truly possible, for he had watched the great Deceiver inject his darkness into the veins of every living being in creation. It was as if the whole of the Middle Realm was groaning in pain from his great corruption, begging to be redeemed yet despairing from the hopelessness of it all. Day by day and year by year the perfection of creation became an echo of the distant past as the utter ruin of the Middle Realm seemed inevitable.

  Just when the holy angels were tempted to despair, the word of Elohim came as a promise and an oath. Elohim swore an oath to fulfill His promise to redeem humanity and all of the Middle Realm from the destruction of Apollyon and his evil works. On that day, great joy returned to the hearts of the angels, for they knew that their Creator would hold nothing back to fulfill His promise. He would exhaust the resources of heaven if need be. Elohim’s promise and oath became known as the Plan, and although angels desired to know it and understand it, the secrets of Elohim were undiscoverable until His time of revelation.

  Validus, like countless others, submitted to faith in their perfect King, giving all for the Plan. It was why many had been dissolved in the great battle below and why many still fought with great courage, like his friend Cadriel.

  Validus reached for his sword, feeling the knurled grip, almost sensing the desire of the blade to be drawn and used in the great battle below. Once he had questioned his purpose as an angel, but now he knew exactly what it was—to be a warrior. He was created for it. His sword was created for it.

  He remembered the day the magnificent blade of justice was given to him. Shortly after the fall, every angel received an unbreakable sword of brilliant white steel and flawless gold from the hand of Elohim. Their swords were symbols of a new era—an era of war. Apollyon’s petition against such an advantage had led Elohim to allow the demons each a sword of permanence translated from the hand of men … far inferior but no less deadly. And as man’s craft of war increased, so did the quality of their blades and thus
the Fallen’s.

  Validus looked at his feet. Below him the war raged on without him. The mere thought of it compelled him to leave the sea and return to the portal.

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  The deep but gentle voice shattered his thoughts. He turned to greet his friend.

  “Persimus, I hide from you, but you always seem to find me.”

  “Well, today it was especially difficult because I had to look in more than one place.” Persimus brushed a lock of sand-blond hair back over his head. Much lighter in complexion than Validus, Persimus had a youthful face of innocence.

  “If you’d waited a few more minutes, you could have saved yourself a trip,” Validus said.

  Persimus flashed a quick smile, but Validus read the concern behind his pale-blue eyes, eyes much like Niturni’s.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. I’m not any more obsessed with the war than I was yesterday,” he said to assure Persimus.

  “Well, that sure is comforting.” Persimus smirked and lifted an eyebrow.

  Validus eyed his friend. “I didn’t think I would ever see the day that you would resort to sarcasm … and used so adeptly, I might add.”

  Validus’s thoughts flashed briefly to that which he and Persimus rarely spoke of—their missing friends. He felt the deep ache in his soul every time he thought of them, and he knew that Persimus felt it too.

  When Niturni left, everything changed. Validus had felt as though a part of his soul had been ripped from his chest, for he and Niturni had become kindred spirits. Validus knew there was a similar bond between Persimus and Cadriel, but Cadriel had been chosen as a warrior and was fighting on earth under Commander Danick. Four friends separated by allegiances and by war.

  Validus was grateful for Persimus, but even their friendship seemed different now. Something solemn and sobering denied them the joy they once shared as a brotherhood of four.

  Persimus shook his head. “Let’s go check on Cadriel and Commander Danick, shall we?”