The Third Heaven Series Boxed Set: Books (1-3)

by Donovan Neal

  "Aye," Enoch said. "It is as you say."

  "Then of a surety, he is the craftsman behind them, for the Seraphim are as the breath of God and when they blow into whatever they craft their fires lite their instruments. Each is unique to its maker, such that none other can blow it unless it is made especially for them for I have learned that their sigil is in the flames. We must, therefore, provoke him to reveal himself," Elijah said.

  "How?" said Enoch.

  "You will take the horn of Malakim and with it blow, and when thou doest so, it shall reveal its maker. If Camael is indeed posing as Nephanos, his own creation will give him away."

  Enoch looked at Elijah, scrunching his face. "How am I to acquire the horn? Camael had Sherkanim strip Gabriel, and I am sure he holds it with the rest in the throne room. Surely a move to prevent Gabriel's people from being called to give aid."

  Elijah smiled. "Go to Camael's chamber as before, for it will be there that you shalt find Gabriel's horn. Find it, and take both his horn and one other."

  "What would that be?" replied Enoch.

  "You must take one of the seven trumpets of judgments."

  * * *

  "Report," said Michael.

  Argoth turned from the open projections on the wall and stared at the horror on Michael's face. Red eyes betrayed him as he gaped at Yeshua's forced march through the streets of Jerusalem. And alongside the images from Earth were projections that showed His people in the streets of the heavenly city, screaming in pain for the lack of rational thought. The Withering's work featured in terrifying display.

  Argoth held a scroll in his hand sealed with a ribbon of blue flame, and he walked towards Michael and spoke.

  "A courier from Nephanos hast delivered to Janus this letter. Janus said the Seraph courier recorded the arrival of our party in Aseir, but reports misfortune hath befallen them."

  Michael accepted the letter, broke the clay seal, placed it in a display and set it afire. And when he did so, words appeared thereon and it voiced a message from Nephanos.

  Hail, Chief Prince. It hath been many days since we have spoken. I have been informed of thy ascension by Eladrin and wish you and your people to prosper and good health.

  Be it known that thy ambassadors have reached us, but one Grigori hath been lost to the beasts under the mountain. Those that remain solicited us to heal the affliction of thy people. In sorrow, we cannot dismiss the Withering from thy kind for the thing is of El, and who can remove that which the Lord Himself hath allowed?

  Even so, it is with further sadness that I must report that two of thy kind have been found guilty of guile. The charge was theft of a Trumpet of Judgment. You knowest as well as I that El intends to unleash these weapons upon the works of Lucifer and his kind. We have recovered the stolen weapon in the stuff of thy servant, Gabriel. He and the other called Metatron have thus been condemned to die in three days' time, their lives, therefore, will be given as a penalty for thy disdain for of contacting me via royal protocol and their illegal incursion into our realm. This will satisfy our law in lieu of war with thy people. Thou wilt accept my judgment, Michael of the Kortai, or we will consider the covenant between our peoples broken, and remove the fire that animates thy stones from thy people's breasts in accordance with our treaty.

  This is my will, and this is my law,

  Sealed and signed by my own hand.

  Nephanos King of the Seraphim.

  Michael inhaled heavily and let the flaming document slip through his fingers and to the floor. He propped one elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned his forehead into his hand.

  Argoth allowed a moment before he spoke. "There is more, my prince."

  Michael raised his head in anguish. "Say on."

  Argoth hesitated. "My Watchers from Azaziel's regiment report that even now, our Lord submits Himself to the evils of men. To what end is still not entirely clear, but He allows Himself to be handled by Adamson." Argoth paced, visibly distraught. "Thus, after all of our attempts to prevent the death of God, the vision that you saw of the Lord on a cross hastens its march toward fulfillment I am sorry Michael, but unless Yeshua turns from His present path, there seems no way to stop the Lord's crucifixion."

  Michael mulled Argoth's words over and stroked his chin.

  The Chief Prince speculated turning over in his mind what thoughts and actions could have put Gabriel and Metatron in such harm's way as to face execution? He knew the head of House Malakim would never risk another war, but would first give himself over to falsehood and execution before he would allow such an event to befall his people. Michael calculated the outcome of open hostility with the Seraphim, and all calculus ended with decimation. El's word concerning the schisms treaty was inviolate and would not be broken. He would not go back on His word, for the accord was clear. If Michael sent a squad to rescue his fellows he knew that they would all be destroyed.

  Michael stared at the floating images, watching as Yeshua silently endured His treatment at the hands of the humans. He noted his master's eyes, the tenor with which He carried Himself, and in that moment, Michael closed his eyes tightly and prayed aloud.

  "El, I have asked that this cup pass from me, but I see now what I must do. Know that I am want to do this thing. Nevertheless, not my will but thine be done."

  He opened his eyes and turned to face Argoth who watched with curiosity.

  "Argoth, there is a third option that hath escaped all, yea even Nephanos. An alternative that would spare our brethren and cease hostilities with our people."

  The Grigoric leader stared at the angelic commander of the Elomic Legions. "Then you, my prince, see even more than the Chief of Eyes. What do you propose?"

  Michael sighed. "I will go – and will surrender myself in their stead."

  Argoth stepped back, stunned. His brow furrowed. "Art you mad? Do you think it a mean thing to surrender yourself – the appointed head of our people to dissolution?"

  Michael lowered his eyes in contemplative thought, then returned his gaze to Argoth. "There is no other way, for it was by an angelic leader's hand that the Schism was genesised, and it will be by this angelic leader's hand that it be sealed. For was it not I who gave Lucifer suggestion that if we could have the instruments the Seraph possessed that we could obtain victory? Through my vocalization, Lucifer took with duplicity that which was not ours? Is it not fitting that I should bring resolution to that which caused Heaven's rift so long ago?"

  Argoth harrumphed. "Perhaps, but the division of Kings by El was done to prevent us from contaminating one another. He has not given any apparent sign that His mind has changed. How dost thou know that your decision to breach their domain will result in that which ye desire, and not further provoke Nephanos and his kin to all out war?"

  Michael bit his lip and thought deeply on Argoth's words, "There is one thing that is certain. In three days' time, the Withering will have completed its work, and unless El relents we are already a people dead. I go that we might have life. For even now the Lord of Hosts moves to lay down His own for a future that cannot be seen by Grigoric sight. If He is willing to do this, how much more as a son should I do as He sets example before us? I go not knowing what will befall me. I have learned from Enoch that one must walk by faith and not by sight. Therefore, I will not stand idle and allow my people to be cut off. You will thus make this record for all of Heaven to know, Argoth. I go to offer my life that I might save all. Do this for me, please, and if I do not set eyes on thee on this side of the Lord's will, I trust that I shall see thee again in the next."

  Argoth was taken aback by the power of Michael's words and nodded. "Then let the thing be as you say."

  Michael smiled in appreciation. "One other thing I command. As I am thy Chief, it falls upon me to give stewardship to the Legions. As all Lumazi are tasked at the moment, this leaves thee to watch over Heaven and to perform the will of the Lord in all things. I know that you do not wish to be burdened with leadership in this way, but do this thing
and see Heaven prosper in thy hands."

  Argoth frowned, sighed, and nodded his head. "If you do not return, I will submit to your word until El establishes another."

  Michael smiled and stepped back. His halo glowed and flared, and the Chief Prince faded in a flash of light...gone to offer terms of peace in hopes of averting another war.

  * * *

  Jerahmeel's team had flown in the belly of the beast several hours, weary, constantly dodging Lucifer's' henchmen, and careful not to aggravate Hell above her tolerance. Being in the presence of so much evil, and exposed to the Withering that festered among the Horde began to take its toll. Jerahmeel would be glad when he could return home.

  "How much further, Turiel?"

  "According to the latest records, the Forge should be just ahead."

  For several of men's days, Jerahmeel had traversed the innards of Hell. His mission: to seek out and destroy the false Kiln of Lucifer's making, and if possible, to find his brother, Talus, and see themselves home.

  After their separation from Iblis, they wound deeper into the intestinal tract of the beast. Each carved stairway twirled in a circular fashion toward a vestibule that housed the heads of angels. The dangling, squirming bodies of punished angelic rebels hung from the ceiling. Metal hooks pierced their flesh; eyes and mouths were sewn shut. Some were impaled against the walls, their hands, and feet pinned to the soft consuming walls of Hell that slowly acidified their flesh for consumption. Cries of those being eaten alive echoed through the halls and Jerahmeel considered how different this realm was from Heaven. This domain, decorated to Lucifer's taste, where groans, wails, and screams were all that were ever heard. The hissing of steam, crackling of fire and stench of brimstone assaulted his nostrils. Jerahmeel beheld his brother's work and knew that if he were not stopped, the fate of Heaven would mirror those he saw suspended from the ceiling.

  They slowly flew by what could only be the entrance of some great hall, and the sounds of animals issued forth. Jerahmeel, Eskalion, and Turiel into a staging area and to their left and right were pens of Wyverns, miniature dragons, used as steeds to buttress the Malakim Griffins in combat. The trio moved forward, past the black giant sentinels that misted like the Grigori, as they were gaseous in nature and covered in fire-like black onyx armor. Moreover, they had four arms and held in each hand a great sword. The four stood two to one side and two to the other, and the three angels passed through them, but the creatures did not respond to their presence.

  "I don't like this," Turiel said. "We should not be able to easily travel in the midst of such creatures and none be present to stop us. Is it a trap?"

  Jerahmeel looked all about, his eyes gazing at the monstrosities before them and nodded. "It is most assuredly a trap."

  The light in the room raised and Jerahmeel and the party looked up. Four silhouetted figures stood on a pedestal. Behind the three elevated highest loomed a dark figure that Jerahmeel presumed to be Lucifer. And standing below him was Zeus, Ares...and Iblis. Ibis' eyes darted away from Jerahmeel's disappointed gaze.

  "A trap? Nay, dear brother. Not a trap, but an opportunity! Nay...I have allowed you and thy companions to traverse these halls, and know, dear brother, that it is such an immense pleasure to see you again. Iblis here hath apprised me of how you so much wanted to find us...and find us you have."

  Jerahmeel looked up into the darkness as Lucifer's voice bounced as an echo off the walls. "Show thyself, Satan! How is it that a being who boasts in his ability to manipulate light hides amongst the shadows?"

  A chuckle floated through the air. Turiel and Eskalion looked about them but saw nothing until yellow eyes began to appear in the depths of the darkness. Squinty eyes that did not blink. And the trio noted that the groans became louder...and closer.

  "You are wise, Jerahmeel. In many ways, I would have considered you mine equal in the gifts of wisdom and knowledge, but your blithe demeanor hast always shown a contempt for the more serious matters. Be it known, however, that I would answer thee on this wise. Know ye not that darkness is nothing more than the absence of light? For our Father spoke into the void, 'Let there be light,' and it was so. But I, Jerahmeel. I have always been there, for I have learned in the depths of Hell, even through the stupidity that was Apollyon, that darkness, my brother....darkness precedes all. Thus, I have no pleasure in illumination, but in the Shadow, in the Void. In nothingness doth, all things spring. This the Godking knows. Thus, why honor Him to be light when I can honor myself by exalting that which precedes the light, that which is primordial even to God – darkness. For it is darkness, Jerahmeel, that is the true state of creation. It is the Void from which all things spring. And sin, dear brother, assists in the degeneration of all things: to return us to a state of true purity. The purity of the Void."

  Jerahmeel scrunched his face, realizing that Lucifer's mind was slowly decaying. His ability to reason darkened and caught up in the vestiges of pride, hurt, lust, and lies...a deceptive cocktail that once imbibed destroyed his faculties of reason.

  "You have Talus. No?"

  "He is here..." Lucifer replied with a chuckle. "We are all here."

  Jerahmeel screamed into the air.

  "Release him! Surrender this foolish cause, and lay down thy arms!"

  Laughter echoed throughout the chamber, a jocularity that was indicative of one who knew he had heard a foolish request. And still the yellow eyes stared out from the darkness with slit pupils, accompanied by the sounds of groaning, and the audible advance of things slithering forward in the darkness.

  Turiel and Eskalion closed ranks around their friend and drew their weapons.

  "I decline," Lucifer said. "Instead, I submit to thee a counter offer. Bow down and worship me! Acknowledge me as thy God. And if thou do this thing, I will see thee escorted safely home, for wouldst thou not like to return to realm eternal? Is it not wonderful to be in the presence of the Father? For who can abide in the bowels of a creature designed to house and destroy our kind? Nay, Prince of Harada. I will not surrender..," he said with a swaggering step, "but if thou do this thing, my word will I give that you will be allowed to go free. But if not..."

  The light level within the chamber rose further and the trio could see daemons all about them...a legion of the walking celestial dead...the empty shells of former angels who followed Satan in his fall and paid a heavy price. Some dragged along the ground, others hobbled in flight, barely able to keep themselves aloft, and dozens crawled, as they had nothing but an upper torso to drag along the floor, and all displayed ravenous teeth ready to rip into the flesh, teeth set to devour them all.

  Jerahmeel and all the party looked about them, their backs pressed against one another.

  "We cannot defend this position, Jerahmeel," Turiel said.

  Eskalion nodded. "Nay, we cannot."

  Lucifer smiled and looked down from his elevated perch of darkness. "Well, Prince of Harrada? I would demand an answer this day. Whom shall you serve?"

  Jerahmeel looked stoically upon the figure that was his brother, surveyed the surroundings and saw that they were encircled on every side. And somewhere past the Deceiver's gloat, Talus was still held captive to the wiles of the Devil. He sighed heavily, shrugged his shoulders, cracked the trapezoid muscles of his neck, smiled in confident tenor and replied, "Yea, though we stand troubled on every side, we are not in distress; though perplexed of how El might succor us, even in this, we are not in despair; though alone in the depths of darkness we are not forsaken; and know King of False Gods that though you think to cast us down, we shall never be destroyed. For El, oh lying one...is Lord and God."

  Lucifer grinned and spoke, "An unwise decision. Take them, my loves. Subdue them and make their bodies your own." Immediately, daemons leaped from the darkness and besieged them from every direction.

  Jerahmeel reached behind his back and pulled from its center the two axes strapped to it. The weapons dangled from chains bolted to the manacles on his wrists. He flexed his muscl
es and white armor shards climbed over every inch of his body. Turiel also assumed an attack posture and his stylus turned into a dagger. Eskalion pulled from his robes a long cadmium pole that he flexed at its center and it stretched to five feet in length.

  A daemon hurled himself toward them and Jerahmeel swung his chained axes like a lasso, slicing the creature in half before it hit the ground. The legion of daemons rushed toward them as one man, and the trio fought for their lives assaulted from all directions.

  In a frenzy, Eskalion used his staff to keep many at bay, twirling and jumping over multitudes, creating circular patches of ground they were able to defend.

  Turiel misted and floated through throngs of the creatures, slightly rematerializing within them and causing them to shriek in pain.

  Slashing, stabbing, and rattling chains twanged in the air as the cavern erupted with the sounds of battle. Jerahmeel lifted his hands and within the confines of Hell itself, what moisture resided within the beating hearts of the creatures froze and all fluidic motion within them ceased, bring many to a standstill unable to move for on a day never seen before nor experienced since, an angel of the living God caused snow to exist in Hell. A blizzard settled over the Prince of all Harrada, and with command of thermal energy, Jerahmeel slowed the kinetic energy of particles and a sheet of ice formed a protective barrier to the group's rear, barring any passage.

  With only the front to be concerned about, the trio advanced through throngs of daemons, slicing and smashing the enemies of God back.

  Bodies flew through the air and screeching howls overwhelmed the ears. Sweat beat upon Eskalion's brow as his large Arelim frame hosted three daemons. One bit into his calve, whilst another grappled his neck, attempting to bring him down. Others swung from his arm and bit into his bicep. He dropped his staff, pulled him off and flung the creature as a bat against the daemon attacking his legs, knocking his adversary into the darkness. Reaching behind, he yanked another off his back and flung him into a crowd of frozen enemies, shattering them to pieces. Eskalion heaved the last assailant high into the air. The creature clung tightly in vain attempts to harm him with claws and teeth but he smashed him into the floor of Hell, splattering the daemon's head wide open.