The War in Heaven (Eternal Warriors Book 1)

by Vox Day

  “All hail the Prince of Light!” the silver guard responded automatically, echoed by the others.

  “Hail the bright shining one,” Kaym replied, bowing his head.

  The guard nodded, and the bright blue glare faded.

  “In Baal Chanan’s name you may enter, and this one with you. Only keep it close by you. It is a weak, and there are those within without care for Baal Chanan or his name.”

  “Any of the Sarim?” Kaym asked, his eyes lighting up with interest.

  “There are four. Lord Masleh and three of the Twelve.”

  “Is Lord Harab Serap one of them?”

  Christopher frowned. What was with these bizarre names? There was no way he’d keep them straight. In all the fantasy novels he’d ever read, he’d never heard of the hero forgetting anybody’s name. So maybe you’re not the hero, sport, he told himself. Either way, he didn’t like what the silver guard was saying about him. Was he weak? What could happen to him? His left arm began to hurt, and he suddenly realized the guard’s fiery eyes were actually burning his skin. He jerked his arm away and glared at the strange being. Was the silver armor there to protect the guard, or could it be a prison?

  “The Lord Harab Serap attends the Prince as well,” he heard the thing answer Kaym. “It is quite a gathering, although your Lord is not here.”

  “No, I hadn’t thought he would be. I thank you, for your warning.”

  The guard did not reply, and with his duty done, nodded respectfully and returned to his position.

  “What was that all about?” whispered Christopher as they left the bright sunshine and entered the vast entry hall of the palace. “Who’s your lord? Why were that guard’s eyes burning like that?”

  Kaym nodded and exhaled. He seemed relieved now that they were past the palace guards, although Christopher had sensed no tension in him before.

  “The Prince’s guards are called the Musphilim. It means, those who burn. They are spirits of fire, elementals without a corporeal body. That silver armor they wear is not to protect them, but to maintain their form. Without it, they might engulf this whole palace with their fiery rage.”

  Christopher shuddered. He could still feel the hot warmth on his arm, and now he knew it wasn’t just his imagination.

  “Don’t worry,” Kaym smiled reassuringly. “The Prince’s word is sufficient to control them. They fear Him far more than you fear them. And the silver that contains them renders them harmless enough.”

  Christopher nodded. “That sounds like the old fairy tales. You know, how elves and the fairy folk couldn’t bear the touch of iron. Or how you need a silver bullet to kill a werewolf.”

  Glancing away from Kaym, he looked at the corridor through which they were walking. The complicated appearance of the palace’s outside gave way unexpectedly to a stark interior of white marble and red velvet. In between the hissing torches that gave off an uneven, shimmering light, carved panels covered the shadowy walls. It was hard to make out the details in the dim light, but they appeared to be mostly paintings of humans and animals.

  “There are kernels of truth in many of the old tales,” Kaym replied. “Remember that always. Your kind has chosen to forget much of what it once knew, to your detriment.”

  They turned a corner, then came to a large vaulted room that branched off into seven passages. At the center of the room was a statue of a naked man holding a torch, looking down at two tiny figures standing at his feet. His expression was benevolent, and he held the torch in both hands, carefully, almost reverently.

  Kaym stopped before the statue and surveyed it with a thoughtful expression.

  “Interesting,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “The statue. I hadn’t seen it here before. I believe it commemorates the Prince bringing enlightenment to the world.”

  “Looks like a statue of Prometheus to me,” Christopher said. He had always enjoyed reading the old Greek myths, and the story of the rebellious god who dared to bring fire to humanity was one of his favorites.

  “The Light-bringer of Greece? Yes, as I told you before, there is truth in the old tales.”

  Christopher raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh yeah, well, which parts are true?” He pointed to the noble statue. “That part? Or the part where Zeus chains Prometheus to the mountain and sends an eagle to attack him every day.”

  “I didn’t say they were all true.” Kaym mysteriously raised an eyebrow. “Let us continue, and you may ask the Prince himself, if you dare.

  Despite Kaym’s promise, it was another twenty minutes before they reached the Prince’s throne room. After Kaym exchanged quiet words with another of the silver-bound Musphilim, they were admitted into the presence of the Prince.

  The first thing that struck Christopher was the light, the blinding, overwhelming light. He could see nothing but the brightness that hit him like a wall, so painfully bright that it threatened to give him a headache even though his eyes were squinted almost closed. But then he felt the reassuring grip of Kaym’s hand, and as a group of trumpet-wielding angels blew a fanfare, Christopher blindly followed the angel into the room.

  The golden light flared to an impossible brilliance, and as they neared what appeared to be the throne, Christopher fell to his knees, his hands covering his eyes. Behind him, a chorus of voices were raised in a hymn of praise to the light-filled presence before him.

  Who can look upon the glory of our Lord

  Who can bear to stand before the brightness of His throne

  The sun covers his face

  The stars avert their eyes

  Before the shining of the Glory of the Morning

  Beside him, Christopher heard Kaym rise to his feet.

  “All hail the Prince of Light!” the fallen angel cried out, and his voice was ecstatic.

  Christopher was overwhelmed. The perfect harmony of the angelic choir combined with the magnificence of the godly being before him stirred his emotions to a fullness of joy. He understood now why Kaym had laughed when he asked about the Prince of Darkness. Prince of Darkness? No, this was indeed the Prince of Light, and there could be no evil here, he knew with sudden certainty. Evil was evil, ugly and shameful. But this prince, this god, was beyond beautiful, he was the Light personified.

  “Hail the bright, shining one!” The angels in the great chamber echoed Kaym’s praises to the Prince.

  “Hail the Lord of Light!”

  “Hail the new dawn rising!”

  The glorious light at the front of the room flared one more time. As it faded away, the angelic acclamations also came to a shocked halt. Christopher almost shivered, as the abrupt return of the room to a bearable level of light felt like the darkness of a winter compared to the summertime brilliance of the moment before. It was as if the sun had suddenly disappeared from the sky, turning noon to inky midnight in an instant.

  He blinked several times, trying to clear the black spots that afflicted his vision. Beside him, he saw that Kaym was still on his feet, and at a gesture from the angel, Christopher quickly stood up..

  No longer blinded, he could now see that they stood at the foot of a shallow, velvet-covered platform. The Prince sat before them on a throne made of a clear crystal, though whether it was carved of diamonds or glass, Christopher could not tell. It was lined with gold, though, a reddish gold identical to the gold of the jeweled crown on the Prince’s head.

  The Prince himself was an extremely handsome being, similar in most respects to a man except for a large pair of golden wings that fanned the air lazily behind him. His face was kind, with a short, dark-blond beard that did not hide a friendly smile. His eyes were a piercing blue that did not recall the pale cerulean of the sky, but rather the deep, intense azure of the ocean. They were ageless and wise, giving the lie to his otherwise youthful appearance. He wore a white robe, with a jeweled scabbard belted to him by a scarlet cord.

  This handsome Prince rose gracefully to his feet and held out both hands to gre
et Kaym. The fallen angel took them in his own and started to kneel down, but the Prince did not permit him to.

  “Kaym, Our loyal servant.” The Prince smiled in a charming way that reminded Christopher of his favorite uncle. “It is good indeed to see thee, for We know thy risks were great. We see by thy companion that thy duty hath been fulfilled.”

  “Yes, my Prince. It is my honor to present to you Christopher Lewis, a human subject of what will one day be one of your many principalities in the North and West.”

  Christopher’s eyebrows went up at Kaym’s choice of words. Had the angel taken him through time as well as space? It didn’t seem likely, but then again, neither did the Musphilim. He looked down at his arm, and it did look a little red, as if it had been sunburned. He rubbed at it, and wondered when they were.

  “Indeed!” he heard the Prince say. “How interesting. Who rules there?”

  “Lord Altarib rules the city, in your name. He claims the name of Bloodwinter.”

  “Bloodwinter? So Altarib is fated to rise?” The Prince laughed. It was an easy, pleasant sound, like water trickling down a gentle hill. “Then We shall remember to keep him in Our favor. It is good to know these things, Kaym. It is a pity We dare not make more frequent use of this timely talent of thine.”

  The Prince turned to face Christopher and nodded graciously towards him.

  “Be welcome in Our Courts, Christopher. Has Kaym told thou of Our will for thee?”

  Christopher glanced at Kaym, whose pallid face revealed nothing, then back at the Prince.

  “He told me that you needed me for something that an angel could not do, but he didn’t tell me what it was. And he told me that it might be dangerous, but that it would be worth it.”

  “And this didst not frighten thee?”

  “No, your Majesty. Well, not much, anyhow. I figured that you don’t get the chance to hang out with angels and meet the Prince of Darkness every day.”

  An abrupt hush fell on the room. Christopher winced, and could have kicked himself, but he was very much afraid that someone was just about to do that for him. If he was lucky.

  But the dreadful silence was broken as the Prince threw back his head and laughed. It was a full, hearty laugh filled with genuine amusement, and Christopher breathed a sigh of relief as the Prince flashed white teeth in a broad, friendly smile.

  “Thou art indeed a brave young man, or perhaps a fool indeed. The Prince of Darkness? Ha! Who hath told thee so? Surely not Kaym. No, speak, o fearless one, of what reward thou seekest from Our hands? Success? Riches? Glory?”

  “I read once that knowledge is power,” Christopher replied immediately, glad to change the subject. “I want to know everything.”

  “The Path of Knowledge. A worthy answer, young human,” the Prince said, as his sea-blue eyes flicked from Christopher to Kaym and back again. “We shall make thee a promise. Perform for Us this one deed, and thou shalt walk that path and We shall give thee a place of honor in Our Shining Court.”

  Christopher imitated Kaym’s manners and bowed deeply to the Prince.

  “That would be great, your Majesty. Just tell me what I have to do.”

  The Prince glanced at Kaym and nodded. The fallen angel pointed to the domed ceiling of the throne room and spoke a single word, and a mist began to form, gradually obscuring the dome from view. Then the mist cleared, but now instead of carvings, the dome now appeared to be covered by painted images. Then the images began to move, telling a story that was older than time itself.

  In the beginning, there was only darkness. There was nothing in the darkness, until one day, for no apparent reason, a small point of light appeared, piercing the darkness and driving it back. The light grew greater and more powerful, until finally it shone so brightly that, despite its greater size, the darkness was forced to submit to it, acknowledging the light as its master. The light named the darkness Chaos, and used the darkness to create a place of lesser light that it called Heaven.

  In time, other points of light appeared amidst the Chaos, and when they saw the grand and mighty structure that was Heaven, they went there and bowed before the first light, and proclaimed the light as the King of Heaven. These beings of light were called gods, and though the King of Heaven was the first and greatest among them, he was but one of many.

  One day, a new light appeared. It appeared early in the day instead of late at night, which was usually when new gods were born, and so was called Lucifer, the Morning Star. This young god was very bright, rivaling even the King of Heaven in its radiant glory and power. Because of its brilliance and beauty, the King of Heaven looked on Lucifer with favor and honored it above all the other gods.

  Aeons passed, and the King of Heaven created servants to aid the gods in their long struggle against the darkness, which was defeated again and again, only to rise again in time. These servants were called angels, and there were multitudes of them, too many to count. They warred against the great beasts of Chaos, monsters born of the darkness, created by the darkness to battle against the light and its King. These primordial battles were mighty, and as the gods of light slew the monstrous creations of darkness, they too were slain, until only three of the first great gods of light remained.

  But of the bodies of the gods, the three survivors created the planets, and from the holy drops of their blood was born the race of men. These men had the appearance of angels, but they were no better than beasts, for their minds were dull and blank. They lived like animals, cold, hungry, and starving more often than not, until one day Prince Lucifer, as he was now respectfully titled by the angels, took pity on them and visited them, and set alight the fire of their dark minds with a spark of his own brilliance.

  With this fire, these men became Man, a tall race of beings that were soon able to master their world, exerting dominion over the animals and their surroundings. But they did not forget the shining god who had rescued them from their plight, and they raised mighty temples to him, huge buildings where they would gather and praise his name. Their world was called Ahura Azdha.

  The King of Heaven saw this and was jealous. His power was great, and so he found a second world, a barren one, and from its dust he created men who were very like to those of Ahura Azdha, only they were not so tall, nor so beautiful as those who worshipped Prince Lucifer. The King of Heaven saw this, and was angry that his worshippers should be less great than those who worshipped the god he now saw as his rival.

  He offered to trade worshippers with Prince Lucifer, but the Prince refused, for he would not forsake those who praised his name. So the King of Heaven, in a rage, stripped the Prince of his title and his name, and forbade him to darken Heaven evermore. This was an insult, for the Prince, who was now nameless, could no more darken Heaven than he could darken the sun, so radiant was his glory. But the Prince, now the Nameless, swallowed his pride, and descended upon Ahura Azdha, where he found comfort and solace among his people.

  When the angels heard the Prince had abandoned Heaven, and that they would be deprived forever of the joy of his glorious light, they became very angry with the King of Heaven. Many of them were so angry that they too abandoned Heaven, and descended to Ahura Azdha, where they swore allegiance to their Prince. Even some of the Sarim, the thirty angel-princes who were the first and greatest and most majestic of all the angels, turned their backs on the King and swore that the Prince, and the Prince alone, would be their lord and master.

  The angels descended upon Ahura Azdha in a glorious white-golden horde, and the reflection of the Prince’s brilliant light off the white feathers of their wings was bright enough to blind even the sun. They gathered before the Prince and bowed to him, a thousand thousand angels, begging him to accept them as his servants.

  “If thou wilt have it so, then shall it be so,” the nameless one answered the multitude of angels. “I will be thy Prince, and I will be thy King, and one day shall We rule again in Heaven. But no more will I be Lucifer, the Morning Star. Instead, thou shalt call Us
Adonai Lucere, the Prince of Light, the Bright Shining One.”

  “All hail the Prince of Light,” a tall warrior-angel shouted.

  “Hail the Bright Shining One!” the multitude proclaimed.

  The image on the ceiling dissolved into mist, and Christopher blinked as he was pulled out of the mystical realm of the ancient vision. He looked away from the ceiling and stared at the Prince on his glassy throne. No longer nameless, the Bright Shining One now appeared older and wiser than the joyful young god of the vision. It was not only the beard He now wore that made him look less like a Prince and more like a King, but also the tiny lines that were visible around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, lines born of pain, and loss, and sorrow.

  “Thou offereth to serve Us, and so thou shalt,” Adonai Lucere told him. “But what We ask of thee is not without risk or danger. These sad events hath taken place many centuries ago, and yet the King of Heaven feareth Us and is jealous of Us still. He is always on his guard and hath raised vast armies of angels against Us. And all this great host shall be arrayed against thee in thy task.”

  Christopher nodded. He understood that whatever he had to do was not going to be easy. What he didn’t understand was how anything he could do would make a difference.

  “But what can I do? I’m only sixteen. I mean, I just got my driver’s license three weeks ago!”

  “Well, we’re not asking you to drive Apollo’s chariot,” said Kaym, with a morbid laugh, until a glance from Prince Lucere quieted him.

  “The King hath sealed the Gates of Heaven so that no god or angel can open them. But thou, O Christopher, thou art the key. The Gates hath been sealed with a spell that only one such as thyself may break.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “When Heaven sleeps and true night falls, thou shalt go to the Twelfth Gate and open it with this key. Open thy hand.”

  Chistopher obeyed, and the Prince snapped his fingers. Out of nowhere, a small gold key appeared in the air and dropped into Christopher’s hand. It was marked with a small inscription consisting of five strange letters that Christopher could not read.