The War in Heaven (Eternal Warriors Book 1)

by Vox Day

  “Okay,” Holli said slowly. It was an answer, of sorts, but she clearly didn’t like it.

  “So you’re planning to end the evil, but you haven’t done it yet?” Jami asked hopefully.

  “That is so.”

  “And when you do, people like Chris and Lord Matraya will get burned, right?” And me, probably, she added to herself.

  “Yes.”

  Kherev’s voice was sad, but resolute.

  “How can you do that?” Holli wailed. “Don’t you care about them?”

  “I do care, very much. My Father is a loving god, but he is also a just and holy god. His hatred for sin runs every bit as deep as His love for you, and that love is deeper than the oceans. There is no place in My kingdom for sin or any kind of evil.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jami said. “What’s the difference between the good seed and the bad seed? How do the angels know who is what?”

  “The wheat is like the flower that turns its face towards the sun that gives it life. Even so will the good seed turn towards the Son, and My angels will see this and know that they are Mine.”

  “Can I be wheat?” Holli asked hopefully. “I don’t want to be a weed.”

  “You can indeed, Holli.”

  “But that doesn’t seem fair,” Jami protested. “What if someone’s never heard of you, or doesn’t know to look for you? What about them?”

  Kherev stopped walking and released her. He turned to face her, then bent down and took her hands, so that her eyes were level with his own.

  “Look at me, Jami. Look into My eyes, and tell Me how people might know to look for Me.”

  Jami stared into the strange red eyes. They were a window into the Universe, a glimpse into an encyclopedia that contained all the wisdom and knowledge that had ever existed, that ever would exist. She saw compassion, and caring, and love, as well as righteousness, perfection, and power. She suddenly knew that to call this divine being with the modest appearance of a man, unfair, was like calling a hurricane a cheater. The concept just did not apply to him, it was simply beneath him.

  “I’m… sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I didn’t understand.”

  Kherev hugged her, enfolding her in his strong arms.

  “But I do. And I forgive you. But now you haven’t answered my question.”

  Jami frowned and thought, but her mind was a blank. Then she remembered hearing a voice whispering to her, a voice that spoke to her without words from a place deep inside her. It was a voice she knew well, the voice of her conscience. And with that insight, she understood.

  “You, I don’t know, talk inside them. Like, in their hearts or something.”

  “Yes, that is My Spirit, whom I have poured out over the nations. I did this so that none might say they have not heard Me calling.”

  “Did you do that for us? On our world, I mean?” Holli also seemed to grasp the concept.

  “I did. And I can do more than that as well. How would you like for My Spirit to fill you, so that you could call upon the fullness of My power any time you need it?”

  Holli clapped her hands, delighted.

  “Oh, I’d like that!”

  Jami didn’t say anything at first, but after thinking about it, she shook her head.

  “I don’t know. I… just don’t know.”

  “There is no hurry. Come, and walk with Me.”

  He extended his hands to them, and Jami took the left as Holli took the right. They walked with him to the path’s end, beyond which was a clearing. There was a bright glow that became stronger as they approached the open ground, and Jami thought she heard a faint crackling noise that grew louder as they approached its source. Kherev stopped as they passed the last tree, and Jami stared, dismayed, at a roaring river of silvery-red fire that burned its way through the middle of the green grass of the clearing.

  The fire was clearly supernatural, for its strangely-colored flames were not fed by any visible source. It wasn’t like the melted lava that flowed down the sides of volcanoes, more like a wildfire leaping and swirling down its course like a forest fire running before the wind. The heat came off it in waves, and Jami could feel her cheeks flushing and tiny beads of sweat to appearing on her forehead. The fiery river was so hot that the earthen slopes of its banks had been baked into hardened clay, interspersed with little glassy pebbles of what had once been sand.

  “Now go and bathe in the river.”

  Jami looked at Kherev in disbelief. He was smiling, and his strange eyes were glowing red as they reflected the howling silver flames that danced nearby. He pointed to the fire, and she fancied that his fingers had grown just a little longer, with nails that ended in sharpened points.

  She backed slowly away as smoke began to billow from the river, a thick foul-smelling haze that threatened to choke her. Was it her imagination, or did Kherev suddenly throw back his head and laugh, a horrible cackling sound of triumphant evil. He wasn’t the Son of God! How ridiculous! Maybe he was a clever shadow of evil that was trying to trick her into burning herself! Where was Khasar, and why had he left her here with this lying spirit?

  Jami was about to scream when Holli’s voice suddenly broke through the fear that was paralyzing her.

  “Jami, take three steps sideways! No, to your left! That’s it, now just one more.”

  Suddenly, the smoke and the evil smell were gone, and Kherev was again a simple man in white, his hands calloused but otherwise normal, and a gentle smile on his face instead of the demonic leer, though his eyes were still red.

  “Tell Thelael to show herself, Jami,” he suggested. “Remember the Lady’s gift. Command her, and she will obey.”

  “Um, okay,” she replied uncertainly, her head spinning with confusion. “Thelael, show yourself!”

  A female angel obediently materialized right in front of her, standing between her and Kherev. She was an arrogant spirit, wearing what looked like a bikini made of smoke that coiled and roiled strategically, just barely keeping her decently covered.

  She snarled at Kherev, exposing small fangs and a forked, snaky tongue before turning towards Jami.

  “Heaven falls and all the Earth is ours. Join us, Jami, or risk destruction with the dotard King and this, his poor, mad Son. Your brother already has. Will you let this Kherev burn you in the River of Death? He seeks to destroy you now rather than see you serve the Prince who is the true King of Heaven.”

  “She’s lying, Jami,” Holli yelled.

  “Like, who are you?” Jami asked the angel, whose fangs had disappeared, replaced by a reassuring, white-toothed smile.

  “I am an angel, sent by the Prince of Light to save you. This one you call Kherev is a great devil. He wants to burn you, for he is doomed to burn himself one day.”

  Jami looked at her. There was something in Thelael’s eyes that troubled her. There was nothing of Lokhael’ nobility about her, of Khasar amusing good nature, or Jhofor’s sober responsibility. She reminded Jami of one of her friends, Kristi, who was always getting into trouble, and whose lies had dragged Jami in that trouble with her more than once. She made her decision.

  “Go away, Thelael,” Jami commanded. “Leave me alone!” The temptress wailed in protest, but reluctantly obeyed, and disappeared in a sulfuric yellow-grey flash.

  Then, before she could think better of it, Jami rushed towards the silver flames. The furious blast of the fire hit her painfully hard, but she didn’t slow down despite the scorching heat, and when her toes touched the hard-baked clay of the riverbank, she dove into the River of Death as if it were a swimming pool.

  She found herself in a gentle pool of water, clear and blue as the sky. After the blast-furnace heat of the fire, it was as refreshing as a cone of frozen yogurt on a hot summer day. She opened her mouth to taste the water, and was delighted to find that it was not only drinkable, but delicious.

  “Holli, jump in! It’s great!” she yelled, and then sputtered as water splashed over her face.

  “I already did.” Hol
li surfaced nearby, shook her drenched curls and smiled happily. “Isn’t it wonderful!”

  “It’s amazing,” Jami tried to say, but it came out in an unintelligible burble of nonsense syllables. She started laughing, and found that she could not stop. Never in her life had she ever felt so alive.

  Holli was laughing too, and they splashed amidst the shallow water like happy children, giggling and babbling with joy.

  “Come out, daughters of the King,” they heard Kherev calling and they hastened to obey. When they clambered out of the water, they found their hair and clothes were miraculously dry.

  “Well done, my children,” Kherev said, and he embraced them, first Holli and then Jami. “When you tasted the River of Life, My Spirit entered your heart and He will never, ever leave you.”

  Jami smiled with relief. Now she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she wasn’t a weed anymore. But she wasn’t just wheat either, she was a daughter of the King. She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it sure sounded good. Like, a princess, almost.

  She was surprised to see that Holli was crying. Jami stared at her sister, who had tears coursing down her face.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I’m so happy, I’m just so happy.” Holli threw her arms around Kherev and squeezed him. “Oh, thank you, thank you so much!”

  Kherev returned the hug, then gently pushed her back, still holding her shoulders.

  “With Fire and Water you have been baptized, and you are sealed to Me forever. I rejoice in the knowledge of your salvation, and I promise that one day you shall return here, to dwell in glory with Me. But there is still much to do.”

  “What about Chris?” Jami asked suddenly. “Can we see him? That, ah, Thelael said that Chris was with them already, you know, and I don’t think she was lying about that.”

  Kherev nodded. “She did not lie. Your brother has fallen into darkness, but do not despair. You will see your brother again, before the end of days. I promise.”

  He clapped his hands and Jami was delighted to see Lokhael, Khasar, and Jhofor appear, accompanied by thousands of white-robed warrior-angels, all armed with swords and spears and slings. The angels gave a great shout, so loud that it seemed as if the sky would crack before it. As Khasar, in his lion form, kneeled and lowered his shoulder so she could mount, a black-skinned angel with a copper horn flew into the sky and blew a mighty trumpet blast.

  Chapter 22

  The King Comes Back

  Be ye therefore ready also: for the Son of man cometh at an hour when ye think not.

  —Luke 12:40

  Koser Vadout was not a coward. For thirty-six years, he had struggled against the overwhelming might of Lord Matraya and his false god, but he had never given up hope, not even once. But when word came to him that the Tower of Qawah had fallen, and with it its deathless Lady, Koser learned what it was to despair.

  Despite the siege of the city, the appearance of the two strange twins had lifted his hopes for a little while, and at the end of that first day’s victory, he’d felt almost confident. He remembered his father’s last words to him, spoken seven years ago, just before the battle in which he’d fallen before a royal Promethean charioteer.

  “Matraya’s men are like the sands scattered round the sea. We’ll never match their numbers, Koser, never. If victory depended upon the strength of our arms, we would surely lose. But the Lord promised us victory, and He is faithful. The victory will be ours if we are faithful to him. And then, one day, the sea will come in like a tide, and wash all that sand away.”

  The aging warleader had gripped his shoulders, smiled fiercely, then turned to walk away, to the field where his death lay waiting for him. But before he joined his bodyguard, he looked back one last time.

  “Be strong, my son, and wait for the sea.”

  But what good was the Lord’s promise to the Faithful of Qawah? They waited, but their promised sea never came, and the Dawn Prince had won in the end, just as he always did. The girls had frightened off the huge skybeast, a miracle for which he was indeed grateful, but then had disappeared before his very eyes. Matraya’s army, forty thousand strong, remained, against which he had three thousand men, women, and boys defending a defenseless, broken wall.

  The bugling of trumpets jerked him from his despairing thoughts, and he saw a single rider, cloaked in green, slowly approaching the broken gates of the city. He held a long lance upright, to which a flag of truce was attached above a red pennon with Matraya’s yellow sun stitched upon it. As the green rider came closer, Koser waved off his archers and stalked out to hear what the man had to say.

  “Who are you,” he demanded.

  “I myself am of no account. I speak with the voice of Lord Matraya, the Priest-King of Prometheon, whose armies stand before you. Do you speak for the people of Chasah?”

  “I do.”

  “This is what the King of Prometheon says: Make peace with me and come out with me. Then I will take you to a land of grain and new wine, a land of bread and vineyards, a land of olive trees and honey. Choose life and not death! Do not listen to your old men, for they mislead you when they say your god will deliver you.”

  The rider spoke loudly, loud enough to be sure that the people inside the broken walls could hear him.

  “Has the god of any nation ever saved his land from the hand of Lord Matraya? Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim, Henah, and Ivvah? Did they rescue their people from his mighty hand? Did they stand against the God of Fortresses? People of Chasah, your gates are broken, and your walls lie open before the armies of the sun. Submit, and you shall be saved. Refuse, and be destroyed!”

  He nodded and folded his arms confidently, awaiting Koser’s response.

  Koser knew that what the rider said was true. All the world had fallen before the Dawn Prince, and with the recent fall of Qawah, only Chasah remained. With the gates shattered, there was no hope of resisting the massive Promethean army, and his refusal would only guarantee the death of every man, woman and child in the city.

  No one would blame him for surrendering now. They had fought a brave fight, and he knew no man could have done more to defend his people. What was the price, then, of his faith? His own life was of no account, but what about the lives of his wife, and his children. What about five thousand other lives that would have to die for his faith, his pride. And yet, could he so easily abandon the god of his fathers, the god that his father had died fighting for?

  Koser stared at the huge army in front of him. It waited, motionless, for his reply, as the rising sun reflected brightly off countless metal helmets and spear tips. Too many to count, he thought, too many to count. Just like the sands of the sea.

  From the ramparts of the walls, Father Havtah listened to Matraya’s envoy. As the green rider threatened the city, then tempted its people with the sweet promise of life at the expense of their souls, the old man burned with indignation. Nearly choking on his rage, he fell to his knees and angrily called out to the King of Heaven.

  “O Lord God, enthroned between the cherubim, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Give ear, O Lord, and hear; open your eyes, O Lord, and see; listen to the words Matraya has sent to insult you, the living God. O Lord our God, deliver us from his hand, so that all kingdoms on earth may know that you alone, O Lord, are God!”

  “That is your final answer?”

  “It is.” Koser replied shortly. The die was cast. O God, he prayed silently, please defend your people, because I cannot.

  The green rider nodded grimly.

  “Then hear the words of Lord Matraya: Because you reject me, and in me all the mighty glory of the Son of the Morning, you, O people of Chasah, shall not see tomorrow’s dawn. My hand is against your city, and not one stone shall be left standing on another. Every living being shall die, and neither woman nor child shall be spared my wrath. I have spoken.”

  Koser’s face w
as calm, although his heart was painfully heavy as he thought of his wife, whom he loved dearly.

  “So be it,” he replied steadily. “May God have mercy on your soul.”

  The green rider shook his head. He did not look pleased.

  “You can ask him about that soon enough, you arrogant idiot,” he spat contemptuously, then wheeled his horse and cantered back to the waving flags of the Promethean front lines.

  Koser watched him ride away, then took a deep breath and ran back towards the makeshift defenses at the ruins of the east gate. It was not long before he heard the sound of distant trumpets and a guardsman’s voice cried out with fear.

  “They march!”

  Koser chewed his dirt-stained nails, disappointed, as he watched the Promethean general send his armored levies forward in conjunction with two large detachments of Auroran archers. His unknown opponent was not in a hurry despite the tempting target presented by the breach, and Koser’s unlikely hopes that his own archers might keep the levies at bay were dashed. The enemy was still five stadia away, but the battle was already over. In only minutes, he knew, he would be dead. He drew his sword and held it over his heart as he commended his soul to God.

  But no sooner had the first Chasahan archer loosed an arrow towards the approaching enemy, when a horn sounded somewhere over his head, much closer and louder than the Promethean trumpets. Koser watched in stunned disbelief as the slender arrow stopped in the air, and hung there, motionless and unsupported, but did not fall. The enemy also seemed taken aback, for their advance abruptly halted, and it wasn’t until Koser shook his head and forced his disbelieving eyes away from the shaft hanging in mid-air that he realized it was not surprise that had halted the enemy approach.

  The world itself had stopped, he realized, but not for him. At the sound of a great cheer from the city behind him, he realized that he was not alone, caught outside of time. All the people of Chasah were alive with him, and out of the sky a vast host of angels was descending, singing and clapping and blowing horns in rampant celebration.