Against the Fading of the Light (Action of Purpose, 3)

by Stu Jones

  “Former?” Raziel bowed deeply. “Commander, if I have failed in my station, let me be disciplined, but please leave me my position.”

  “Stand, old friend. You are not being stripped of your title or status. If anything, you are being honored for your bravery and dedication in this most recent conflict involving the humans and that fiend Abaddon.” Michael nodded to the Blaze at Raziel’s side. “I trust he is enjoying his new accommodations?”

  Raziel smirked. “He most certainly is not, Commander.”

  “Excellent.” Michael smiled. “So, as I was saying, after your prolonged absence, we had to establish a new keeper in your stead.”

  “I see.”

  “But I have something else in mind for you, my friend, an assignment that the high king has already approved.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m putting together a small unit, specifically for dealing with direct threats to our interests. After your recent heroism in the earthly realm and with that particular weapon at your side, I believe you are the one to lead this group.”

  “I am not a leader.”

  “Untrue, my old friend. You may have some room for growth there, but you are one of the most noble and courageous angels I have had the pleasure of knowing, and your skill with that weapon is unmatched.”

  “I don’t know what to say. What sort of unit is this?”

  Michael smiled and placed his hand upon Raziel’s shoulder. “Small, a bit of a motley crew, very clandestine. But we can talk about all that later. For now, just say yes.”

  “Yes, of course, Commander.” Raziel nodded.

  “Perfect.” Michael smiled, urging Raziel forward. “Now, let’s get you fitted with some new wings. You will most certainly need them where you’re going.”

  Warm, unfiltered sunlight poured across the base at Camp Navajo in the late-afternoon hours of the day. The spring months had brought the first prolonged sunlight they’d had in years, the air warming under the gaze of a heavy sun. It had been most welcome after so long without it.

  With the clearing of the sky, the earth began to recover, stubbornly growing once again even after all it had been through. Even though still scarred and barren, some areas had grown back up with wild grasses and weeds and even a few young trees. Those at the base had even been able to cultivate the soil, and although the first yield of crops had been meager, it had been something. Promise lingered in the air—the start of a brand-new day.

  Kane and Ari made their way across the base, holding hands. Ari was pregnant with their second child. The first, a son they named Joshua, nuzzled closer, napping against the chest of his mother. Never far behind, Michael and Rachael teased each other playfully as they followed the steps of their father. The twins had fully recovered and had grown inseparable from each other and their father.

  As the community at the base also grew, protected within the fortified walls of Camp Navajo, many approached Kane, asking him to lead the group again. He declined, while still offering to help in any way he could. He said he just wanted to try living and raising his family for a change and that the people were able to lead themselves. This was all fine and good, but everyone knew that if they needed him, if some terrible evil were to rise against them once again, he would be there. Though much in him had changed since the beginning, he never stopped believing in a God who relished the business of working miracles.

  Ari kept herself busy helping to look after Michael and Rachael, as well as the new addition, but woe to the man who constrained her solely to “womanly duties.” She would always be a lioness, bred for war. As such, she kept herself sharp, volunteering to keep watch or training others in how to fight or shoot. Though two pregnancies had slowed her down a bit, her fiery spirit and her desire to protect those whom she loved remained undiminished.

  Jenna continued ministering to the people who now made Camp Navajo their permanent home. She did this in her typical way, using a life of service to others as the example of her savior. Everyone loved her, and though her heart still ached sometimes for those she had lost, she never again fell into despair about it. She volunteered with the medical clinic, delivering several babies, including young Joshua. But what she loved the most was teaching and playing with the children. She believed in cultivating the future and those who would live in it. And she never let go of the belief that no one, not even the worst of us, was beyond the saving grace of Christ.

  They all still saw Tynuk once in a while. Though he had gone through puberty and was a little stockier than they all remembered, he was still the same wild warrior boy they’d known back then. Valiantly leading his people, the New Comanche Nation, Tynuk saw that they grew and flourished, finding their way back to the oldest ways, just as the prophecy foretold. Queenashano remained close to the boy, mentoring and developing him into a wise and fair leader, and over the years, the old war chief became a father figure of sorts to him.

  From time to time, the war chief Tynuk and a few of his warriors would stop by Camp Navajo to trade goods they had scavenged and to reminisce over old stories. Though Tynuk would never admit it, he sorely missed his companion, Azolja—or Raziel, or whatever name he wore—as well as his old friend, Courtland. And as time went on, though they were sure they would never completely lose touch, Kane and the others began to see less and less of their mysterious friend and his reclusive people.

  Smack-dab in the center of the base, near the flagpole that still securely held Old Glory, was a monument with the words: “A few gave some and some gave all.” Listed below were the names of those lost since the very beginning. Among them were Molly Stevens, Susan Lorusso, Courtland Thompson, Dagen, Jacob, Aviel, Sam, and Winston. Beside the pillar was a second stone with a few simple words carved into it: “Greater love has none than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Thank you, Dagen and Courtland. We are forever grateful. Rest in peace.”

  It had been two years and three months since the Battle for the Glen Canyon Dam, as it was now known. It was a story that would be told over and over again in legend, while remembering when a handful of faithful people took on an entire army of evil and stood against the fading of the light. Miraculously, they had won. Some would tell the story by saying that the armies of heaven had fought beside our heroes, that they had won a victory that no one had anticipated and that future generations would fail to understand the significance of. Others would scoff and say that, like most legends, none of it ever happened at all. But Kane and the others knew. They had seen it, struggled through it, and survived it. It would leave scars that they each would live with for the rest of their days.

  Malak and his Coyotes were dead and gone. Kane’s children had been rescued and the Machine destroyed. As far as they knew, they never saw Raziel or any of his kind again. And though it was a wild-frontier sort of life, for the first time since the missiles fell from the sky, people could live in relative peace again.

  Kane and Ari stopped momentarily before the pillar of names and the stone marking Dagen and Courtland’s sacrifice. They stood quietly for a lingering moment, the weight of old memories prevailing as Kane touched his fingers to the grooves of the stone. “The light shines in the darkness…” he whispered.

  Ari squeezed his hand and touched her cheek to his shoulder, her deep brown eyes gazing into him. “You OK?”

  “You know what?” Kane said, patting her hand and catching her eyes with a wink. “I am.” A worn smile crested Kane’s lips as he heard a group of the children singing with Jenna from across the way, their little voices drifting and riding the breeze like a heavenly chorus.

  “By his grace we have come; in his grace we now go, wrapped in the love and goodness of Jesus our Lord, to whom all glory and honor, power, and praise be forever and ever. Amen.”

  Acknowledgments

  THE ACTION OF Purpose series was a labor of love: love for my God, love for my fellow man, and love for the art of creation. I set out to write this particular series in a way that I felt it had not b
een done before—mixing the indelible truth of the gospel with the harsh truth of this depraved world. I wanted to tell the story that God wanted told—one that mirrored his own book, a story of desperate faith and true purpose. I hope that in the reader’s eyes I have met that mark.

  There are just a few people I feel compelled to thank for their support and assistance in bringing this final chapter of the AOP trilogy to life.

  To Kara, whose constant gentleness, selflessness, and patience are indispensable commodities in my life. None of these stories would be written without her unfailing love and support.

  My proofreaders, David Jones and Gareth Worthington (author of the excellent Children of the Fifth Sun series)—their thoughtful yet harsh constructive criticism has enhanced this novel beyond measure.

  To Tzviel “BK” Blankchtien, my very good friend, whose personal experience as an Israeli soldier helped greatly in the core formation of Ari. Thank you, brother (she turned out awesome!).

  The editing team at CreateSpace who handled my manuscript and did a wonderfully professional job tightening the narrative and removing all the small inconsistencies that plague any creative effort.

  I also owe a great many thanks to any and all who contributed to this work in ways large and small. It is because of you and your support and/or feedback that this project is a reality.

  Finally I thank you, the reader. The sheer fact that you hold this book means you had the heart to take up this journey in the first place. By purchasing this book, you are also an instrumental asset in the war on human trafficking. Thank you for your support.

  Taking a Stand against Human Trafficking

  We cannot simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice.

  We must drive a spoke into the wheel itself.

  —Dietrich Bonhoeffer

  ONE HUNDRED PERCENT of the profits from every physical and digital book sold in the Action of Purpose series will go toward combating the epidemic of sex trafficking in the United States. Buy a copy of Through the Fury to the Dawn, Into the Dark of the Day, Against the Fading of the Light, or any future book in this series, and an equal contribution will be made to faith-based nonprofit organizations dedicated to stopping the sex trafficking of women and children and assisting in the recovery of those affected by this evil practice.

  For more information, including additional information regarding how you can give directly to some of these charities, visit the author’s website at actionofpurpose.com.