The War in Heaven (Eternal Warriors Book 1)

by Vox Day

  Christopher frowned at these words, wondering if he was just an instrument to Kaym. The angel must have read his mind, because he laughed and shook his head although Christopher had said nothing.

  “It is a very different thing than the power I gave you. You are more than a man now, while Matraya, for all his greatness, can only call upon the power of the spirit that guides him, he does not wield that power as his own.”

  Oh. Well, that was different. Christopher was glad. He didn’t like the thought of being anyone’s instrument, or vessel.

  “That’s Prince Jehuel now, you said?”

  “Yes. Jehuel was never intended to lead angels. It’s not in his nature. He doesn’t realize that it takes more than heroics to make a leader.”

  “Heroics?” Christopher was surprised. Most of the angels he’d talked to saw Jehuel as a traitor, not a hero.

  “You’ve heard of Leviathan, have you not? And Behemoth?”

  “I don’t know. They’re some kind of monsters or something, right?”

  “Oh, yes, but they are more than legend.” Kaym made a sweeping gesture with his arm, and the light shining off his tattoos made it look as if blood was running down his arm. “In the earliest days of angelic memory, Heaven was plagued by great monsters who dwelled amidst the deep of the void. From time to time, they would attack Heaven, for they were mindless, ravenous beasts who tried to devour everything they touched. They were strong, very strong, stronger than the Cherubim, stronger even than most of the mighty Sarim. The Lord of Hosts created the great walls of Heaven in order to protect us from them.”

  “Geez, they sound like bad stuff.”

  “You have no idea. Think on the terrible strength of Gonael, that Cherub we faced, and multiply that tenfold. That was how strong most of these monsters were, then know that Leviathan and Behemoth were their kings.”

  Christopher whistled, impressed. “So where does Jehuel come in?”

  “The King of Heaven decided to do something about these monsters at last. He summoned a Great Hunt, and all the Sarim joined him in riding the winds of Heaven through the void, laughing and destroying the mindless beasts of Chaos as they rode.”

  Christopher could almost see the vivid picture Kaym described. He imagined the inky blackness of the void, and the explosions of light as the angels hunted down the terrible monsters of the deep.

  “But Leviathan and Behemoth were not destroyed,” Kaym continued, “though they were forced to bow before the King. Michael, Gabriel, and Prince Lucere together cast down Behemoth and bound it, but Jehuel alone helped the King bind Leviathan. As a reward, the King gave him the key to Leviathan’s chains and named him its Keeper.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a reward to me. No wonder he switched sides. Where is Leviathan bound?”

  Kaym smiled and pointed to the bricked street, which became less and less crowded as they approached Matraya’s palace.

  “Underneath your feet.”

  “What?”

  “The King created this world as Leviathan’s jail. He formed the planet around the monster, sealing it far below the surface, wrapped in chains, where it burns in an eternal sea of fire.” He laughed at Christopher’s wide-eyed incredulity. “I told you before, there is always a grain of truth in the old legends. It’s not on Earth, but here on Rahab, that the worm writhes underground. As the tales tell, Ourobos devours his own tail, and Iormungandr is steeped in his own poisons.”

  Christopher frowned, wondering if the fallen angel was pulling his leg. He didn’t think so. As far as he could tell, Kaym hadn’t told a single joke in all the time that he’d known him now. Before he could question Kaym further, though, they had reached the high walls that surrounded Lord Matraya’s dwelling. Kaym nodded to the spirits standing unseen at the shoulders of the human guards manning the open gate, and Christopher guessed that the spirits blinded the guards’ eyes, because the men stared blankly forward as he walked past them, unnoticed.

  Unlike the huge marble castle that contained the Courts of Light, Lord Matraya’s mansion had clearly never known the threat of war. It was a palatial structure made of wood and stone, delicately rising from amidst an intricate garden of flowers, and decorated with dozens of crystal windows placed between sections of light-colored wood. The angular roof was stacked in an unusual manner that was reminiscent of a Japanese pagoda. A path of rosy gravel took them on a winding path through the gardens, until at last they approached the red-painted doors of the mansion.

  They did not enter, though, for no sooner had Christopher followed Kaym up the stone steps leading to the painted doors, when both doors were flung open wide and a tall, angry man stalked out, followed by a pair of lesser angels. He would have been handsome were it not for the rage that contorted his narrow face, and a wild fury filled his eyes. Christopher wisely slipped behind Kaym, for when the possessed man spotted them, he immediately rushed towards them and grabbed the front of Kaym’s robe. Kaym tried to bow politely, but the man’s firm grip did not give him the chance.

  “Lord Matraya—’’

  “Did you do this, Kaym? Are you with them?” Flecks of spittle flew from the god-king’s mouth. “Answer me, curse you!”

  Kaym, taken by surprise, tried to push the angry man away from him, but Lord Matraya would not let go. Jehuel’s possessing spirit gave the god-king great strength, for he shook the fallen angel like a helpless rag doll.

  “Who did this to me?” he demanded. “Asrael didn’t do this on his own! Was it Gabriel? Or Barakael, maybe?”

  Kaym looked as confused as Christopher felt. Christopher winced as Matraya again shook Kaym roughly.

  “Who else has turned against me? Does Baal Chanan resent me? Do you, Kaym?”

  Comprehension dawned in the fallen angel’s face. He addressed not the man, but the angry spirit within.

  “Prince Jehuel, I have nothing to do with Asrael. I have not seen him in ages.” His dark brows wrinkled, concerned. “What has he done? Has he betrayed the Prince?”

  Matraya-Jehuel abruptly shoved Kaym away, throwing him to the ground, but his face remained agitated.

  “Im Barku told me. The host was corrupted and has turned against me.”

  “Im Barku did what?” Christopher made the mistake of asking.

  “Who are you?” Matraya glared at him. “No, not Im Barku, Asrael! May his halo rot with his head! He seduced the host that was to be mine.”

  Christopher saw a look of dismay flash across Kaym’s customarily cool face as he was dusting the pinkish gravel off his ash-grey robes.

  “Seduced the host! Does he mean to rebel against the Prince?”

  “He rebels against me!” Matraya shouted. “He means to rejoin the Divine cause.”

  “He’s not rebelling against you, Jehuel!” Kaym spat bitterly. He pointed past the yellow Azdhan sky, towards Heaven. “This has nothing to do with you. Asrael’s betraying the Prince. With a host at his command, he could break the siege of Heaven! You have to stop him!”

  “With what? Lucifer only left me with two legions here. Twelve thousand angels against a host? It can’t be done.”

  “That’s Prince Lucere, Jehuel, and don’t forget it again. Who commands the legions?”

  “Ra’shiel and Asmodel.” The angelic god-king looked unrepentant.

  “Oh, by the Pit, that’s even worse.” Kaym looked as if he was going to be sick.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Asrael has long been friends with Ra’shiel, and Ra’shiel’s loyalties are weaker than the good will of a Chaos spawn. That’s why the Prince kept Ra’shiel here, away from Heaven. No, we can’t depend on Ra’shiel’s legion either. But Asmodel will stay loyal to the Shining One, even if all the others fall away.”

  Kaym waved his hand, sending one of the angels hovering behind Matraya off to do his bidding.

  “Go, and find Lord Asmodel. Tell him to come to me at once.”

  Christopher watched as the angel hurriedly flew away, then bent ov
er to pluck a pale red flower and brought it curiously to his nose. Its smell was pleasant, but unfamiliar. As he looked over the rows and rows of flowers that comprised the elegant garden, he could feel a thought teetering on the tip of his mind. It had something to do with… something to do with… he wasn’t sure, yet. He turned back to Kaym and Matraya and saw that the possessed god-king was calmer now, sobered by the seriousness of the situation.

  “If you are right, then Asrael will have forty-eight thousand to our six. Even if Ra’shiel holds fast, we face three warriors for every one of ours. They have no Great Ones or any of high rank, but that won’t be enough. We still have no hope of defeating them. We need a miracle.”

  A miracle. Now he had it. It wasn’t the flowers, exactly, but the rows. Rows and rows of warriors, growing from the ground. The children of the dragon.

  “We could make our own,” Christopher broke in, daring to speak again.

  The possessed god-king of Prometheon regarded him sourly and ignored his words.

  “What is this, Kaym, that project of yours I’ve heard about?”

  “He’s a who, not a what. His name is Phaoton, of Sammael’s Order.”

  “Strong for a mortal,” Jehuel-Matraya commented as he looked Christopher over. “I’d hardly call him a Power though. His aura has the strength of an archangel, perhaps.”

  “He defeated Verchiel in the Circle, my lord. Sent him beyond the Beyond.”

  “Did you now?” The god-king looked impressed. “No wonder the night stars were weeping red. The Lion mourned for his master.”

  Christopher shrugged and tried to assume an aggressive tone. He could see that this angel-lord only respected strength. “Yeah, well, it was no big deal, highness. And look, you can do the same thing to this Asrael.”

  “In the Circle? There is no doubt!” Matraya scoffed at the idea. “But even in this mortal body, Asrael would not be fool enough to enter the flames with me! I am a prince of the Sarim, Lord of the Sword—”

  “—excuse me, but with all due respect, highness, you sort of missed the point. What I mean to say is, you’ve only got six thousand angels, right? So look around you, and what do you see?”

  Christopher grinned as the possessed god-king glanced around the grounds of his palace with a baffled look on his face. The impeccable gardens grew lush and thick on either side of the groomed walkway, and beyond them were a geometric series of high hedges. There was nothing that looked like a weapon capable of defeating an army of fifty thousand angels.

  “Flowers?” he suggested doubtfully.

  Christopher laughed.

  “I didn’t mean that literally, your highness. What I meant is that there’s plenty of people, or mortals, like you say, right here on Ahura Azdha, right? Is there any reason why you couldn’t have your six thousand angels do to them what Kaym did to me?”

  Lord Matraya raised his eyebrows and glanced at Kaym, who, by the approving look on his face, had already guessed what Christopher was suggesting. When the fallen angel nodded, the god-king of Prometheon pursed his lips and looked up thoughtfully at the cloudless saffron sky before speaking.

  “It is possible. If this one could defeat a Zodiac lord, then beings created by lesser spirits might well have strength enough to war against Asrael’s angels. But such congress between mortals and angels is forbidden, of course.”

  “Forbidden by Heaven,” Kaym answered quickly. “Not by Prince Lucere, who is the only authority you must answer to. Do you wish to face his anger if Asrael relieves Heaven? I don’t!”

  Lord Matraya pursed his lips, clearly not liking that idea any better than Kaym did. The look on his aristocratic face showed Christopher that the Dawn Prince was capable of using a stick as well as a carrot. Then Matraya shrugged.

  “In that case, shall we not release Leviathan as well? It’s no worse to be thrice-damned than twice. Even if our legion were defeated, Asrael would not be able to use his host to relieve Heaven, for he’d be compelled to wrestle with Leviathan first.”

  “An excellent idea!” Kaym praised Matraya heartily. “I myself would like to see the beast.”

  Christopher smiled. Ourobos and Iormungandr, it sounded like Leviathan was a giant snake of sorts. Now they had the dragon too, and the mythic image was complete. Surely that was a good omen!

  He was surprised, though, when Lord Matraya shook his head.

  “No, Kaym, I would have you here. None can release Leviathan but me, and since I must go, you must rule this body in my stead. Asmodel is loyal, but his temper is too fierce and he is a poor general besides. Our forces are small, and we must husband them carefully if we are to prevent Asrael from reaching Heaven.”

  Christopher was impressed by the wisdom of the angel-lord’s words, and wondered if perhaps he had misjudged Prince Jehuel. At first, Matraya had seemed almost psychotic, but then, lots of people didn’t make sense when they lost it. Even Holli got a little crazy when she was really mad.

  “It will be as you say,” Kaym told Jehuel-Matraya, bowing. “Will you inform Lord Asmodel, before you go? He may be displeased with the burden of serving under my command.”

  Matraya’s possessed eyes glinted dangerously. “I will tell Asmodel. He will obey.”

  Kaym nodded, satisfied. “In your word, Highness, I have great faith. But is it not true, that it will take some time for your angels to empower the mortals of this city?” He pointed to Christopher. “When I blessed Phaoton with my power, it was an arduous task. It will not take long for your angels to recover, but they will need some time. You must take care that Leviathan is not released too soon.”

  “It won’t them take as long as you think, Kaym,” Matraya insisted. “It is not needful to raise these mortals to such heights as you’ve done for this one. A small measure, only, of the fire should be quite enough for our purposes.”

  “Will your angels be willing to serve you in this way?” Kaym appeared to have some doubts. “Won’t some shrink before the task?”

  Matraya’s lips twisted up into a smile for the first time since they had arrived at his doors.

  “They will not find the task unpleasant. Have no fear, Kaym. They will obey.”

  Christopher did not understand the god-king’s amusement, and he looked questioningly at Kaym. Kaym, too, looked puzzled for a moment, then his expression changed as awareness dawned upon him.

  He grinned salaciously at Christopher.

  “Too bad you’ll have to miss this one, my dear Phaoton.” He laughed. “It would be a most educational experience for you.”

  “You would send him with me?” Matraya asked, surprised.

  “With your permission, yes. It seems only wise, for if anything goes wrong with you, Phaoton may have the strength to return and bring word of your fall. If we’re creating our own Host of mortals, we’ll need every angel to lend, shall we say, a hand, while Phaoton, being mortal himself, can do us no good here.”

  “But I want to stay with you, Kaym!” Christopher objected strongly. And if he had guessed the angels’ intentions correctly, he really didn’t want to miss the upcoming party.

  But the fallen angel shook his head, refusing to even listen to his protests. He had his own reasons, and he knew well what he was about. It did not take long for Lord Matraya to affirm Kaym’s wish, and the matter was settled.

  Christopher sighed, disappointed. In this way, at least, the spiritual world was just like the real world. He never got invited to the good parties.

  Aurora was erupting into a single, massive celebration when Prince Jehuel and Christopher began their descent into the bowels of Rahab. As the angel-prince had said, his angels were quite willing to favor the mortals of the city with their beings, and the Aurorans themselves were ecstatic at the prospect of becoming more like the godlike one they worshipped.

  A few early experiments had shown that although this method of transferring spiritual powers to mortals was not as effective as the more difficult process Kaym had used, it worked nonetheless. The newl
y uplifted Auroran mortals did not have a tenth of Christopher’s awesome strength, but the angelic flame was definitely there. To Christopher’s now-practiced eye, though, their flames were different, darker, colored by a greenish tinge that was somewhat disturbing.

  Matraya-Kaym was pleased with the results, though, and cheerfully presented the task of building up his new Host of ur-mortals to Lord Asmodel, one of the eleven remaining Zodiac lords. The Archon approached his responsibility with all the bullish vigor of his Sign, and promised Kaym that he would swell the ranks of their Fallen army by one hundred thousand by the following sunrise, in plenty of time for the coming battle.

  “The mortals will not be as strong as Asrael’s angels, but they will outnumber them more than two-to-one,” Prince Jehuel commented with satisfaction as he snapped his fingers, causing a giant, rune-inscribed rock to roll away from the cave mouth it concealed. “That should be enough to account for whatever remnants of the Host survive Leviathan.”

  “The real question is, will we survive him ourselves,” Christopher said under his breath, looking nervously into the gaping darkness of the cave. His stomach fluttered anxiously as he followed the fallen angel-prince into the darkness, desperately hoping that the Keeper of Leviathan was its master as well.

  Was it right to pray, he wondered. And if it was, to whom would he pray? His fear was threatening to bloom into full-grown terror, and in the past, in moments of fear, he’d prayed to the God he didn’t believe in. Now he knew that God existed, but as Heaven’s fall showed, He didn’t seem to care too much about anything.

  The Prince cared, though. He cared a lot, Christopher had seen. Even though he was supposed to be the Devil, Kaym had showed him that things weren’t always what they were supposed to be. The Bible might say that Satan and Lucifer were one and the same, but Christopher knew differently now. The fictitious, pitchfork-bearing figure of evil had nothing in common with the great angel-prince that he knew, the beautiful lord of light that he now served. If any god would hear his prayers, it would be Adonai Lucere.