Angelic Wars- First Rebellion

by Rick E Norris

“Yes,” Azarias responded, holding back a smile. What kind of question was that?

  “In fact, we can say that we are soul mates, as close as any angels in Heaven, correct?”

  The corner of Azarias’s mouth turned up. “Sure, my friend. So, what bothers you?”

  Raffaela puzzled him. She always spoke directly. Tactfully, actually.

  The small smile escaped Azarias. Maybe the Lord had told her of his weak faith? He hoped not. Or, why the others were ambushed. Or why…he had to wait.

  Raffaela looked away and then look back into Azarias’s eyes. “I want to talk you through a journey of my reasoning, so please be patient as I navigate.”

  Azarias turned and walked to a seat that was all too familiar. He sat down, leaning his back against the wall.

  Raffaela squatted. She looked over her shoulder briefly and then returned her gaze to Azarias.

  “The Septemviri met together in a prex précis to learn about the enemy’s battle plan. No other angel was privy to that information but the seven of us.”

  “Okay.” Azarias, unable to fathom the direction of this conversation, tried to remain patient.

  She continued. “Smyrna was in the battle plan. We learned that Smyrna was to be our initial advancement with Michael and Gabriel. Upon arriving at Smyrna, Michael coincidently met Asmodeus. Asmodeus informed them of the Angelus Pennae contest that he was to judge.”

  Azarias bit his lip. He needed to hear answers to the events, not the events themselves.

  Raffaela opened her hands. His lack of understanding was trying her patience too. “The crowd cast a member of the enemy’s forces, the intent of which was to defraud the contest. Likewise, in light of Gabriel’s secret desire to participate, members of the crowd chose Gabriel and cast him into the arena. Upon improperly snatching the victory from Gabriel, the opponent turned the crowd against Gabriel and Michael, who barely escaped their grasp.”

  Azarias’s eyes drifted downward. He then looked at Raffaela again. “Do you think Asmodeus set Michael and Gabriel up to be captured?”

  “Yes.”

  “But wait, Asmodeus was also in danger when the revolt happened,” Azarias objected.

  “Really?” Raffaela responded in a rhetorical sense. “Asmodeus didn’t ask to be saved by Gabriel and Michael. Asmodeus acting with surprise and condemnation hid his true nature. That was part of his plan.”

  Raffaela paused. The events were starting to make sense.

  “However, though captured by Gabriel and Michael and transported to Al Birka, Asmodeus had to devise a way to benefit from the radical change of plans. Since he did not succeed in capturing Gabriel and Michael, he decided to infiltrate our ranks as a double agent for the enemy by exploiting his close relationship with Michael. This explains his overzealousness to help us.”

  Azarias didn’t know whether to reel in disgust or cherish the enemy with envy. The plan sparkled with diabolical coordination.

  His face lit up. “The events of this mission reveal the incredible logistics of the enemy. It also explains how two hundred thousand angels, with the cooperation of Asmodeus, could accomplish an operation of this magnitude. You are right. There is no way they could have pulled this off without Asmodeus’s full knowledge and acquiescence.”

  Azarias leaped to his feet and ran his finger over the map. “Smyrna is located at one of the intersections of the five-pointed star, which represents the enemy’s military advancement. I assume that we have lost all of the millions of angels in that district to the enemy since one hundred percent of the Paestra’s occupants seemed to be in the enemy’s camp.”

  Raffaela stepped next to him. “Don’t be so sure.”

  “Why?”

  “There are other possibilities.”

  “And what are they?”

  Raffaela stared at the map as she spoke. “The millions of angels in Smyrna could be prisoners, they could be hidden, or both.”

  Prisoners? “Are you saying that only a fraction of angels can conquer and imprison a multitude of ten or twenty times their number?” Azarias smacked his hand against the wall. “I can’t accept that. It’s impossible. Why would loyal angels hide? Where would they hide?”

  “Impossible?” Raffaela quipped. “When did you start doubting the impossible in Heaven? We don’t know what commands the Lord may have given to these angels. They may be prisoners against their will, or they might be lying in wait, anticipating our advancement.”

  Azarias stroked his chin. “So, angels loyal to God may be our first prisoners of war?”

  The words rang in his mind, staggering him.

  “We may have to rescue the persecuted ones, or at the very least, we must plan to have the hidden ones join us in our advancement against the enemy when we’re commanded to move.”

  Azarias looked back at Raffaela. “But we can’t be sure. Also, we do not know which angels are with us and which are against us.”

  Raffaela turned to the map again. “The Lord knows.”

  The words reminded Azarias who was in control.

  Raffaela continued. “We must not concern ourselves with developing strategy. We must follow the Lord’s Spirit no matter how much our love for other angels may tempt us to rescue them. He will provide us with that information in His time.”

  Azarias weighed every word and couldn’t find an argument. She seemed right in her conclusion.

  Raffaela turned and paced a couple of steps. “Remember, we may be incorrect in this assumption. We might just have to wait for the Lord to call all angels to this cause if they are hidden.”

  Azarias shook his head in acknowledgement.

  He shifted his thoughts. “How did Asmodeus and his accomplices know that Gabriel and Michael were going to Smyrna?”

  Raffaela drew a breath. “That, my friend, is the most troubling question—and the answer is obvious and deeply disturbing.”

  Azarias looked into Raffaela’s eyes; he read there a jarring truth.

  He looked away, closing his eyes.

  Tears flooded them. “Which one?”

  Raffaela sighed deeply. “I don’t know.”

  She turned again and paced, lowering her head. “This came to me while Asmodeus was speaking.”

  Her voice cracked. “I looked at each face of the Septemviri but couldn’t tell which one it was. It pains me to believe that one of them could accept the other side’s philosophy, selfishness, and deception and reject the Lord. This angel is lying in word, spirit, and actions to the rest of our group.”

  They now paced together. Azarias’s burden sizzled with every step. “What is the Lord doing? I can understand the rebellious ones. They’re the ones we are set out to challenge—the Great One deceived them. But, for me to lose a member of the Lord’s commanders…”

  Azarias felt the insecurity of his commission. He tried to quell a rising panic. It held his confidence ransom.

  “Raffaela, can’t we trust anyone? Now I see that all angels are capable of deception, lying, and collusion. How can we tell who is for the Lord and who is against the Lord?”

  Raffaela didn’t answer but just looked at the ground.

  Azarias rambled. “Suspicion will always infect our missions to win this war—even of the same individuals that we trust to help us. This may mean that the enemy has the power to covertly infiltrate our spirits and the spirits of those around us. I mean…”

  Raffaela placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know it is hard to understand. Every word, every mission, and every strategy will be compromised until we discover the identity of this angel.”

  Azarias shifted his weight and looked away. Everything has now turned upside down.

  She continued. “And then, who isn’t to say that it is not just one, but two betrayers in our group?”

  He didn’t consider that. That possibility was insurmountable. Who wa
s to say it wasn’t all of the other five who betrayed them? Azarias’s mind numbed.

  Raffaela shrugged one shoulder and stared with absent eyes. “Even if we find and oust such an angel, who is to say that another may not succumb to the enemy and take the former angel’s place as an informer?”

  Azarias’s face became stoic. “It makes me question my own character. Am I capable of abandoning the Lord?”

  Raffaela looked down, pressing her lips together. “I think we are all capable of abandoning the Lord when put to the right test. As long as the Lord gives us the free will to love him, we also possess the free will not to. That is the risk of true love. In any relationship, whether it is between God and the created or among the created, true love is not truthful unless it is willful. We must have the option to not love if we are to have the option to love. Otherwise, our emotions would be an automatic instinct to act a certain way and not a chosen emotion of commitment.”

  The words dragged Azarias down to a level he never knew existed. He stood in silence, trying not to look into Raffaela’s eyes. “How does the Lord want us to eliminate the traitor? We cannot even meet to do a prex précis for fear of divulging our intentions to the offender.”

  “We operate in the open until the betrayer is exposed.”

  “Exposed?” barked Azarias. “Who will expose him?”

  “I believe the traitor will expose him or herself when the time is right.”

  Her? The word stuck in Azaria’s gut because Malachy was the only her other than Rafaella. It couldn’t be her. Could it? He had to push the thought away. Raffaela turned toward where they had met the others earlier. “We keep this to ourselves. This way we have an advantage. Let the Lord guide the angelic spy into a trap. The Lord will speak to you at the proper time. He will let you know when it is time to spring the trap. It may even be at a point when the traitor least expects it.”

  But what if Azarias didn’t hear the Lord? He could trap them all.

  * * *

  61 Job 6:24

  62 Joshua 24:15

  Chapter 13

  Azarias stared into the Al Birkan plains now tarnished with the Septemviri presence. The Lord’s Spirit still dwelled there; the sweet-smelling63 scent still filled his nostrils. But things seemed different now. The snaking profundo, down below, reminded him of how gently the traitor had wormed his—or her—way into Azarias’s confidence. He’d wanted to intervene when Michael and Gabriel were trapped in Smyrna, but he couldn’t. The Lord did not seem to trust him with such power or with the knowledge to strategize a powerful solution. Why? What now did the Lord have in store for them in this flawed mission?

  Azarias might still guide their missions. But the purpose was out of his reach.

  Champions of liberating Heaven? Hardly. Their Al Birkan headquarters, once thought of as a place of refuge, was now the front lines. The enemy had come and now rested just several feet behind where he stood now. But which one? The enemy did not have to defeat them in some extended, elaborate battle. Instead, he compromised the Septemviri’s integrity from within. And who was to say this infection would not attack the other Septemviri members? Maybe Michael was right. Did Azarias misread the Lord? They had an advantage over Abaddon when they rescued Squatinidale. Should they have pursued the enemy with the fiery legions all the way to the Great One? He shook his head at his recurring faithlessness and questioning.

  Azarias, standing, cupped a handful of silicium. He watched the grainy particles filter through his fingers, only to blend into the Lord’s ever-blowing Spirit and disappear. The grains became as scattered and obscure as the angels they were pursuing.

  But what about Raffaela’s strategy? It gave him a little hope. They might draw out the traitor. They could make the informer think his or her presence had not been discovered.

  Azarias sauntered to the rock. He paused and then turned the corner to find the others sitting in a circle. Silence now devoured conversations.

  “So, my friends, it’s obvious from the Smyrna experience that we are both the hunter and the hunted,” he said in a commanding tone.

  The others didn’t reply, refocusing anywhere but on Azarias.

  Unnerved further, he continued. “I will explain the reality as I know it.” Bending down to the surface, Azarias collected several orbs called othelites. These objects were circular in shape, with two flat sides. One side was a dark color; the other side was a light, milky color. Azarias gathered twenty, with all the lighter sides facing up.

  “Friends, each one of these objects represents an angel. The lighter side represents those who are loyal to the Lord.”

  Then Azarias turned over six of the objects, exposing their darkened sides upwards before continuing. “As the enemy infiltrates the districts of Heaven, the angels defect, the districts are compromised, and the inhabitants are lost to the other side.”

  He picked up one of the objects and turned it over.

  “Just as these objects have both a light and dark side, I believe that individual angels, and ultimately their districts, have the ability through their personal choices, and possibly their temptation, to join the enemy. These dark sides represent those who are lost.” He tapped one sadly. “Now, unlike these objects, there is no outward appearance of their conversion. The darkness resides in their souls.”

  He looked up, searching the faces of his friends, but quickly lowered his eyes, unsure of what he might see.

  If they did not understand this, then they certainly would not understand what followed.

  He took the chance.

  “In light of the recent events, I believe that the Lord is not trying to persuade individual angels to make decisions one way or the other. Likewise, our mission is not to try to convince them to conform to the Lord but to warn them of the Great One’s spell. They have all of the evidence of the Lord’s love and power. That is all they require to make a choice. However, it is their free will, God’s greatest gift, which is their greatest battleground. They have a choice between God’s Word…and their own.”

  He drew a deep breath. “In reality, our battleground is the very soul of each angel. The enemy’s weapon of choice is his word, in place of God’s Word.”

  His own words rejuvenated him. Azarias stood and walked around his comrades. Maybe the Lord was with him. A warm sensation flowed through his wings. Yes, it was the Lord. He now knew their next moves. He clenched his fist, tightened his jaw, and stared directly at his team.

  “Our mission is multi-fold: First, we are to travel to Ephesus, Thyatira, Philadelphia, and Sardis in order to assess the situation, and then maybe Laodicea and Pergamum if necessary.

  “Second, if possible, we are to remind the inhabitants in those cities of the Lord’s Good News of love to those who might want to re-establish their relationship with Him, and to those who are still undecided.

  “Third, we have already seen from Squatinidale, and the Smyrna experience, that the enemy will take prisoners of those who do not conform to their belief. We must find the angels—captured or in hiding—to avoid persecution.

  “And lastly, when we have finished these phases, the Lord will present us with the means to oust those who have refused His offer.”

  Raffaela stood. “Are we to travel in pairs like Michael and Gabriel?” She counted on her fingers. “Ephesus, Thyatira, Philadelphia, Sardis. Since there are seven of us, one of us must go alone.”

  “Yes, I see,” said Azarias. He stroked his chin. “I will not be able to watch you through the Tome, because I will be on a mission concurrently.” Azarias paused. “We must depend on the Lord.”

  He interlaced his fingers and looked up. “Raffaela, you are the wisest. So, you will go to Philadelphia alone. It is a district brimming with faith in the Lord. I believe you will be safer there. Then if you need assistance, you can return to Al Birka. But please, be careful of who you speak with.
Don’t take any chances.” Azarias placed his hand on her shoulder. “I know you will. You always weigh all aspects of a dilemma before acting.”

  Azarias scanned the group. “I will speak with the rest of you individually and dispatch you as the Lord informs me.”

  He exhaled, but louder than he wanted.

  Ephesus—the origin of art. Like its sister district Smyrna, Ephesus also dwelled at an intersection of the five-pointed star on the Septemviri map.

  Pollyon and Malachy glided towards its main center. Perched high on a plateau, the dazzling village nestled in a concave slope below a towering peak. The famous 2,200 seat Odeum64 beckoned performers from all over Heaven. Malachy could hear the music, though they were still a considerable distance from this amphitheater. Distant choral or orchestral accompaniments punctuated the praise-poetry like the sparkling of a star. She wished that God had gifted her with a greater amount of musical ability, but her gifts lay elsewhere. All angels could sing, but some understood the intricacies of music better than others. This gift always complimented their missions and duties.

  “Pollyon, let’s land on the plateau and walk. I don’t want to attract attention. We have already seen Michael and Gabriel unwarily walk into an ambush.”

  They climbed the steep switchbacks, cutting a rugged way from the lower segregated walls up to the walled center toward the Odeum.

  Malachy paused, raising her head and exposing a glowing softness upon her face. “I love the music. I enjoy singing to the Lord when I’m alone. It brings me closer to Him. I would love to lead a chorus of symphonic voices here sometime, but I know that is not what I was meant to do.”

  Malachy’s heart danced as the music soothed. How could there be a rebellion in the same Heaven as these words and music? “The Spirit of the Lord is truly in this place,65 manifesting itself in the notes and rests of the music. I am carried somewhere far beyond Ephesus—to a place of peace, joy, light, truth, and love.”

  Pollyon didn’t respond, seemingly transfixed on their mission. She didn’t understand him. He seemed to be a complex angel, thus naturally valuable. His gifts must lay somewhere beyond her understanding, like so many angels she had encountered.