by Mark Romang
Seattle
His sword drawn, Mithellius reminded himself he was only here to reconnoiter, to watch and observe and report back to Vallen his findings. And yet his instincts urged him disobey Vallen’s orders and join the one-sided battle.
Mithellius didn’t enjoy being a spectator, and it took all his resolve to stay in his position.
Standing atop a high-rise apartment rooftop several blocks away from the industrial park, Mithellius and his two companions—fellow angel scouts, observed a platoon of guardian angels fight valiantly against what looked like three battalions of demons.
“They’re being overrun, Mithellius. Shouldn’t we help them?” Araton asked.
“Vallen gave us explicit orders. We must obey them, Araton.”
“But their numbers are so few. And they’re facing the Legion.”
“That is only half the Legion. We followed them here, remember.”
Araton placed a hand on his sword handle. “Yes, I know. But the guardians face certain defeat unless they are reinforced.”
Mithellius watched the battle closely. Even though he stood a long distance from the battlefield, he could see the fighting unfold in vivid clarity. The violent scrum took place on a greenway, near a storm headwall. Twenty-one angels defended the storm tunnel’s entrance against nearly 2100 demons. 100 demons to every angel.
The worst kind of fight. An unfair fight where evil has the upper hand.
Araton is right. The guardians don’t stand a chance, Mithellius thought. But the last time I disobeyed orders I got captured by a demon patrol and taken to Teredel. I cannot fail my Lord again.
“Who are the guardians protecting?” Araton asked.
“Jacob Akkerman and the eleven Jews with him. They are part of the 144,000 witnesses.”
“It doesn’t make sense that the Legion would divide themselves and come here to attack twelve men.”
“I agree with your thinking, Araton. Ever since Jesus banished the Legion and sent them into the pigs they have stuck together. This is new and erratic behavior.” Mithellius watched an angel duck a sword thrust from one demon, and then pivot and impale another demon sneaking up from behind. The glowing sword in the demon’s midsection caused the demon to briefly light up, and for the shortest of moments the demon appeared glorified, as he once had before his fall.
The angel’s minor victory proved short-lived. Five demons smothered him with sword strikes before he could even retrieve his sword from the demon’s belly.
Sickened by the sight, Mithellius sheathed his sword. He turned to his companions. “We must go now.”
“Are we joining the battle?” Araton asked eagerly.
Mithellius shook his head. “We are only three in number. Our presence wouldn’t turn the tide of battle. We will report to Vallen what we have seen. He is in charge. It will be his decision whether we aid the guardians.”
“I suppose you are right, Mithellius. It will only take us an instant to fly across the Puget Sound and back to the Olympic Peninsula. Hopefully the guardians can hold out that long.”
Mithellius nodded and launched himself off the apartment building. His two companions took wing right behind him. And with the clanging of supernatural swords ringing in their ears, they headed west, quickly reaching hypersonic speeds as they left Seattle’s skyline.
****
Near the entrance to the goldmine that served as the Mason family bunker, Andrew Maddix continued his sentinel duty. His eyes didn’t blink or lose focus. They appraised the dark forest without letup. Like a lifeguard scanning the ocean for a struggling swimmer, or a policeman scanning a crowd for a lawbreaker, Maddix searched the forest edges for ambushing demons.
The glade was small, and Maddix was in the open.
The demons could use the tree cover to their advantage.
In his mortal life when he had been a Navy SEAL, Maddix had gone on more than his share of recon missions. Most of them required him to hide deep in enemy territory, many times right out in the open where he had to maintain complete stillness for hours or risk discovery.
He rarely thought of his old life on Earth anymore, didn’t miss it one bit. Heaven was infinitely better. But the fact of the matter was he couldn’t remember much of his mortal life. His memory had for the most part been wiped clean.
Maddix understood why he couldn’t recall much. It wasn’t a mystery. There is no pain or sadness or tears in Heaven. To be aware of what is taking place on Earth to loved ones might cause grief to interrupt heavenly joy. But even so, Maddix hadn’t completely forgotten everything. Like a recovering amnesiac remembering a memory, he sometimes experienced brief flashbacks of his military training and missions, and he still incorporated many of the techniques and tactics he learned while operating as a member of America’s most elite soldiers.
Maddix stood near his son Spencer and best friend Coleton Webb. Spencer peppered him with question after question about techniques to use when battling a demon.
Speaking low, Maddix patiently answered each question. This was Spencer’s first mission. It was understandable he might be nervous. Although Spencer looked all grown up like a young man in his prime now, he still retained a portion of his childlike inquisitiveness.
“I can’t speak for C-Dub, but I often pray while I am battling them,” Maddix said.
“I can understand praying before you fight a demon, but how do you pray at the same time you are fighting them?” Spencer asked quietly.
Maddix smiled. “My prayers are not lengthy or complex. They are short and simple, and don’t require much thought. Usually they are only one line, and they always contain the word Jesus. They are words that flow readily off the tongue.”
Spencer looked bewildered. “You mean you are praying audibly?”
Maddix nodded.
“Give me an example, Dad.”
“I’ll give you several. ‘Jesus, you are my shield and protector. Jesus, you are my savior. Jesus, you are stronger than Satan and his demons. Fill me with your holiness, Jesus. Fill me with your spirit, Jesus. I serve only you, Jesus. For your glory, guide my sword strikes, Jesus.’ The key is to always say the word, Jesus. Just the mention of Jesus’ name strikes fear in a demon’s mind.”
Spencer nodded. “I can do that, Dad.”
Coleton Webb shot Maddix a knowing glance and grinned. “And here I thought you only talk trash to your opponents.”
“I only do that right before I finish them off,” Maddix said. He touched Spencer on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t recommend you insult the demons, Spencer. They are powerful enemies. Although they are evil and despicable, you must respect their strength and guile.”
“There is no danger of me taking the demons for granted,” Spencer said assuredly.
Maddix was about to say something else to Spencer, but stopped when he spotted the three golden streaks light up the sky over Mount Deception. The three angel scouts came in fast and hot, yet still landed softly on the glade like Ospreys setting down on a carrier flight deck. Vallen walked out to them. Maddix left his spot next to Spencer and Webb and joined Vallen. He wanted to hear the scouting report.
Maddix arrived just as Mithellius began reciting his report to Vallen. “The Legion has splintered. We followed half of them to Seattle. They are attacking a platoon of guardians assigned to protect Jacob Akkerman and the eleven witnesses he travels with.” Mithellius cobalt eyes flashed back and forth from Vallen to Maddix. “I suggest we reinforce the guardians at once. They are being overrun.”
Vallen didn’t immediately respond. Maddix watched the warrior angel pause to weigh their options. “I sense a trap, Mithellius. The Legion never separates.”
“But the twenty-one guardians can’t possibly fend off such a large number, three full battalions.”
Vallen turned to Maddix. “Andrew, do you agree with Mithellius that we should assist the guardians?”
“I agree with both of you. You are correct, Vallen, when you say that the Legion is setting a trap. They are trying to
lure us away from the bunker so as to get at the Masons. But I also agree with Mithellius. Twenty-one guardians don’t stand a chance against three-thousand demons. We can’t stand by and not help them. Besides, the 144,000 witnesses were anointed to spread the Gospel around the world. And they are guaranteed supernatural protection. Unfortunately, Jacob Akkerman’s protection has faltered. We must step in the gap.”
Vallen nodded. “There are two-hundred troops in our company, and we fought off the entire Legion. So a hundred of us should be able to match up with their three-thousand in Seattle. And the other one-hundred should be able to match up with the three-thousand still here on the Peninsula.”
“I believe so, Vallen. It won’t be easy. But we can do it,” Maddix said.
Vallen continued to look at Maddix with a steely gaze. “Okay, then. Do you want to go to Seattle and reinforce the guardians, or do you wish to stay here on the Peninsula and protect the Mason family? Either way you are leading.”
“I will remain here. But I request Spencer and Webb to be among my 100 troops.”
“Granted. You and Coleton are a team. And I understand why you wish Spencer to remain on the Peninsula.” Vallen patted Maddix on the shoulder. “I will assemble my troops and leave momentarily.”
“Leave without worries, Vallen. You can rest assured we will remain vigilant here.”
“You are the least of my concerns, Andrew. I know you will lead your troops with courage and wisdom,” Vallen said just before striding off to gather his war party.
In the graying light of pre-dawn, Maddix watched Vallen go. The big angel strode with a fixed purpose, his large arrow quiver slapping his back between his wings. Maddix turned to Mithellius and the two angel scouts with him. “I want you three to go and observe the remaining Legion troops here on the Peninsula. Report back immediately if they make a move toward the bunker.”
Mithellius nodded his understanding. “Whatever you command, Andrew, we will carry out,” Mithellius said. And like a brief wind gust, the three angels disappeared as soon as the last syllable departed Mithellius’ tongue.
Maddix rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers. He could feel a fight coming on. The promise of battle scented the mountain air. In his mind Maddix visualized the enemy making their final preparations—sharpening broadswords and poring over battle strategies.
It’s time I devise my own plans, he thought. But before drawing up his battle plan, he needed to do something else first. And it was the most important element to his strategy.
Maddix dropped to his knees, bowed his head, and lifted a silent prayer to God Almighty.
Chapter 13
Seattle
Vallen shot arrow after arrow into the demons making up the Legion. The demons fell in great numbers, but Vallen wasn’t satisfied. He kept hoping one of his arrows would find Sablo, the legion’s undisputed leader.
To kill a snake, you have to cut off its head, or so the old adage goes. So Vallen kept his eyes peeled for Sablo even as he aimed his harpoon-like arrows. Perhaps the greatest archer in all of Heaven, Vallen honed his craft over a six-thousand-year period. Before that time period there hadn’t been a need for weapons.
Lucifer’s treason changed everything.
Angels acquired fighting skills out of necessity.
A demon charged forward, right for Vallen. The demon brandished a war hammer—a big and ominous-looking bludgeoning weapon. The demon held the war hammer over his head like he wanted to cleave Vallen’s skull with it.
Vallen quickly nocked an arrow, took aim, and shot the demon’s hand off. The war hammer bounced and flipped off the ground, talon-like fingers still clutching the weapon’s seven-foot shaft. The demon screamed, an otherworldly caterwaul wrought more from anger than pain.
Vallen readied another arrow, pulled back his bow string and shot the demon in his open mouth. The heavy arrow nearly decapitated the demon. His head snapped backwards and dangled from his shoulders. Nearly headless, the demon folded up like an accordion and pitched over onto his knees, his head swinging around like a batted piñata.
Vallen strode forward, bent down and pulled out his arrow from the fallen demon and continued his hunt for Sablo.
It wasn’t just Vallen’s accuracy that had become legendary. It was also the speed and precision with which he could retrieve an arrow from his quiver, place it on his bowstring and fire it into his target that inspired stories to be passed around.
Vallen didn’t mind that his legend grew bigger after every battle. The more his legend swelled the more frightened his foes seemed to become. In reality it probably wasn’t his reputation that struck fear in his foes. More likely it was his golden arrows.
Vallen enlisted the finest goldsmith in Heaven to forge him special arrows. The unique arrows were more like harpoons in size. One side of each gleaming arrow shaft—the side that faced away from the bow limbs contained multiple razor-sharp barbs. The arrows easily pierced his opponents’ armor and shredded flesh as they tunneled through the body.
His special arrows couldn’t kill the demons, but they caused terrible wounds that took a long time to recover from.
All along the greenway and into the parking lot the fighting spilled out. Not since the war in Heaven had Vallen fought in such a heated battle. Upon arriving on the chaotic scene, Vallen sent a group of twenty-five troops into each direction. Vallen led one group himself. The four groups of angels and saints formed a diamond shape and fought with their backs toward one another.
After forty-five minutes of pitched battle, Vallen and his 100 troops made progress in slowing the onslaught against the guardians, but they couldn’t seem to make headway in repelling the Legion. There is too many of them, and too few of us, Vallen thought.
Samson fought nearby. Vallen caught occasional glimpses of Samson in his periphery. He could also hear Samson grunt with each heavy blow he delivered. The Israelite hero battled dozens of demons at once. Soon after arriving on the battlefield, Samson had ripped a thick branch from a mature oak tree and used a six-foot section of the branch as a club. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and pummeled and bludgeoned his foes without letup.
But the demons kept advancing. When one went down, three more took its place.
A legion is five to six-thousand troops. And only half of the Legion was here. But to Vallen it seemed like there were a million demons coming at him.
Something heavy pounded at Vallen’s back. Ignoring the pain, Vallen whirled and back-fisted his attacker. A large demon stumbled away. Vallen readied the arrow he had just shot into the prior demon and took aim. His breath caught for just a moment. Sablo glared back at him, his reddish-orange eyes glowing with hate, and perhaps even jealousy.
Vallen could remember Sablo before the fall. Back then Sablo was nearly as beautiful as Lucifer. Intelligent and gifted in many areas, Sablo was also on track to become an archangel. But now he was simply hideous, a revolting shell of his once glorious self.
Sablo preferred the mace as his weapon of choice, and he favored Egyptian maces with disc-shaped heads. He brandished one now.
Vallen held his aim a fraction of a second too long. The delay caused the unthinkable to happen. His arrow flew wide.
Sablo leered at him with disdain, but also confidence. And then Sablo lunged.
Chapter 14
Oblivious to the supernatural battle taking place above his head, Jacob Akkerman followed Mary deeper into the storm tunnel. Akkerman was glad he didn’t suffer from claustrophobia. The tunnel’s concrete ceiling hung low in places, and the walls seemed to alternately narrow and widen.
Akkerman found himself operating in a state of perpetual amazement. He couldn’t get over how many people were living under the city. Actually, living was a term much too kind to describe the conditions. Existing was a more accurate way to state it.
It was like he’d entered an alien world, a primitive civilization struggling to survive in the bowels of modern day Seattle. The people subsisting here wore hau
nted looks. Living underground for much of the day and night had driven them to the brink of insanity. And a few had lost their minds completely.
Akkerman felt his heart breaking for these suffering people. The residents living in this underground city looked like escapees from a concentration camp. “Mary, what are these people eating? And where do they find water?”
Mary stopped and turned around to face him. A headlamp adorned her forehead and provided illumination. “They’re not eating much. We occasionally find scraps and spoiled food in Dumpsters behind restaurants. Finding water not tainted by the plague of blood is even more difficult. But there is an abandoned building several blocks from here. A group of believers meet there. The water service is still on, and the water coming out of the tap is clear. No one drinking from it has ever gotten sick that I know of. The clean water there is a miracle. That’s what I think.”
“You would think the city’s water department would come and shut off the water, or that UWC officers would come and investigate the building for squatters,” Akkerman said.
Mary nodded knowingly. A weary smile broke across her dirty face. “More miracles, Jacob. Our God loves us.”
Akkerman patter her bony shoulder. “Miracles happen all the time. We just don’t always recognize when they are happening.”
The smile left Mary’s face. “Jacob, there are some tunnel dwellers just ahead of us I would like you to meet. I have tried to persuade them to surrender their hearts to Jesus, but they only scoff and curse at me. The hearts in their chests are like small boulders. Perhaps you can reason with them.”
“I would love to tell these people the Good News. Whether they act upon what I say is up to them.”
“While you talk to them I will be praying for your words to sink in,” Mary said and resumed walking.
Standing four inches over six feet, Akkerman ducked his head in places. These tunnels were not engineered for people, let alone tall ones. The tunnels were designed and built to carry away runoff. Despite the fact that rain hadn’t fallen on the city in a long time, Akkerman found the storm tunnel humid. He dragged a hand across his clammy brow, wiping away sweat. You brought me into a hellish place, Lord. Now help me bring some of your kingdom into it, he prayed silently.