Angelic Wars- First Rebellion
Page 14
A commotion rumbled ahead as the singing ended.
The two Septemviri raised their heads as thousands of angels soared like eagles toward them. They flocked from the amphitheater, the famous Ephesus ebb and flow releasing the audience into aerial cartwheels and somersaults. Invisible waves, repeated in sets, with peaks and troughs, cast the laughing angels toward the two visitors.
Malachy, grinning, turned to Pollyon. “They’ll be back. The current takes them around the plateau and ebbs them back into their seats.”
As each invisible wave rippled by, it snagged and opened Malachy’s and Pollyon’s wings, lifting them off the surface. Blown back by the gusts, they re-positioned their wings to resume their course. Again, and again, as the two pressed on, an incredible wave pushed them back several feet.
Malachy laughed. “It looks like the breath of God is keeping us from our destination.”
Pollyon returned a glance.
The two angels tacked against the wind, zigzagging until they finally entered the empty amphitheater. The jubilation had run its course and surrendered the arena to peace.
The serenity soothed Malachy. She looked up at the dozens of empty rows.
“Come on,” ushered Pollyon. “Let’s survey this place from the seats.”
Shaken by the taciturn angle from her quiet world, Malachy followed Pollyon. They climbed the steps, half walking and half flying.
Pollyon turned and scanned the stage. “I think we’re high enough.”
They filed into a row and sat on the marble-like bench.
Far below them, an empty stage stretched away.
The descending vacant seats seemed to yearn for occupants.
Looking down at the stage, Malachy saw seven large vertical slabs rising behind it. They each scaled twenty feet high with a base of five feet wide, fanning out at the top to ten feet. A carved relief glimmered on each surface. Arrayed side by side, the slabs stood as if in judgment on those who were seated.
Malachy stood and looked behind her. Reaching upwards with the same majesty as the reliefs, were massive columns. They too stood like sentries, guarding the rear of the audience.
“Pollyon,” Malachy whispered. “Have you seen these before?”
Pollyon turned without standing. He shot a glance. “No. I’ve never been to Ephesus. How interesting.”
He motioned for Malachy to turn to the front. “And those slabs behind the stage…what do they mean?”
Malachy sat down. Her eyes ran the gamut of the frescos, trying to piece them together as one message. Historical images rocketed through her mind, searching, pausing, and then searching millions of images. She then noticed angels floating through the entry down to their right. Her eyes shot up to the frescos again. “You know, Pollyon, the Lord wouldn’t have put this district on our list unless it was important. These frescos have to provide us with something to further our mission.”
Pollyon didn’t turn but raised one eyebrow. “For what, though?”
“I don’t know. That is what worries me. We have to analyze these quickly. We never know when the enemy may recognize us as they did Michael and Gabriel. I just hope we don’t miss something important while rushing through here. I always need more time than allotted to analyze complex things.”
The angels turned back to the front, the slabs mocking them with their secrets. “Let’s examine them one at a time while angels are filling up the theater for the next performances,” Pollyon said.
Malachy pointed to the relief on the furthest left. “The first relief displays a concave dish in the top of a cone. Now that is an interesting graphic illustration. What do you suppose that means?”
“I have no idea,” said Pollyon, straining to sound interested.
“That one looks like a triangular-shaped bowl standing on its nose at forty-five degrees…how odd.” Malachy scratched her chin and stared blankly at the arriving angels. Then she shifted her eyes and refocused. “The third relief looks like a mosaic of a large box containing smaller colorful boxes.”
Pollyon looked down at his hands. “Maybe those represent some performance or a number of performances enacted at this amphitheater?”
Malachy rifled through her images again and shook her head. “I think these represent things that are greater than mere performances. Try to think on a macro level.”
Pollyon sighed. “Now the fourth relief consists of small reddish-blue spheres. It is certainly a pretty relief, but…”
“That looks familiar,” said Malachy as she wagged her finger. “I have to think this through.”
Pollyon appeared impatient. “The fifth relief is a large rigid triangle over a flat line, the sixth is an emerald square with three openings, and the seventh relief is of a large open book.”
He turned to Malachy. “So why does it matter? We may be focusing on something that is totally irrelevant to our mission.”
Malachy reached into the back of her garment, pulling out one of her crystal-like maps of Heaven. They always seem useful for occasions like this. Malachy turned the round map upside-down and around in circles and studied the reliefs with great intensity.
The amphitheater was nearly full now.
“Look.” Pollyon pointed, his voice raised with excitement. “Look who just climbed up to the stage.”
Malachy raised her head. The angel on the stage had turned away momentarily, gazing up at the reliefs. He was stout and unassuming. He turned back to the crowd.
“Squatinidale,” said Malachy. “What is he doing here?”
“Do you think he is on the list of angels to perform?” asked Pollyon.
“I don’t know, but this should be interesting. The last time we saw him, he was despondent and defensive. I still think of the story he told us in Al Birka about his capture, and the Great One. He must have been terrified.” Malachy bit her lip. “Why do you think he is keeping such a high profile after his rescue? That would be like taunting Abaddon to recapture him.”
Stepping up from between the tall reliefs were four angels with instruments. Two that used strings, another with percussion, and the last used the sound of the Holy Spirit. These were common instruments in Heaven.
A host started with a small introduction for the solemn Squatinidale, who turned to the audience and waited for the beat of silence. He then started to sing. The song started slow, and then picked up the tempo.
http://ow.ly/17ET50wD5eV
(Click link hear Squatinidale sing)
It’s Your Word that woos me,It’s Your Word66 that soothes me,
Lord, please hold me.
I seek Your love.
With a bad choice
I lose You,
With my free choice
I choose You
Lord, please hold me.
I seek Your love
And I know that God works for the good of those who love him,
Who’ve been called within His Plan67
Help me, Lord,68 smother my weariness
Pour Your grace into my soul,
Drown my pride that takes control.
Help me, Lord, dry up my tearfulness,
Speak into my heart with fire
Burn away my false desire.
Who am I without You?
I, alone, concern You
Lord, please hold me.
I seek Your love
Your touch is soft and mighty,
A love that’s steadfast, not flighty
Lord, please hold me.
I seek Your love
And I know that God works for the good of those who love him,
Who’ve been called within His Plan
Help me, Lord, smother my weariness
Pour Your grace into my soul,
Drown my pride that takes control.
Help me, Lord, dry up my tearfulness,
Speak into my heart with fire
Burn away my false desire.
The audience responded with cheers and applause. It had been fitting: an upbeat song displaying faith and praise of the Lord.
Malachy turned the facts over and over. Seven reliefs and their missions. She looked to her map and the districts in question.
Seven reliefs—and their seven missions. She jumped to her feet, holding the map in front of her face. “Wait. I think I have it.”
* * *
63 Leviticus 1:17
64 Acts 19:23-41
65 Genesis 28:16
66 Psalm 18:30
67 Romans 8:28
68 Matthew 14:30
Chapter 14
The Thyatira fortress, perched high on its jagged ridge, balanced on an edge between two deep and winding canyons. Belittled only by a two-thousand-foot cliff across the gorge, the structure demanded a silent majesty not seen in many places in Heaven.
At the top of a castle-like structure, reaching a height of five hundred and fifty-five feet, was a tall tower capped off with a sharp cone. The edifice seemed to guard the intersection of both canyons, an unwavering sentinel.
Uriel touched his hand to his brow. “Azarias, have you ever seen such magnificence? I could spend an eternity studying the architecture.” He sighed. “But I know that’s not our mission. Still, I never want to stop learning what God has exposed to me.”
Azarias felt his frustration. All the angels wanted to resume missions. They wanted to serve the Lord, but this hunt grated on their patience. Maybe he could light a little spark in Uriel to study the surroundings, just briefly. He knew that Uriel never felt closer to God than when he received knowledge, moments that confirmed his purpose in a world in which he didn’t stand the tallest and most radiant. They would hardly be noticed among the multitude of angels who conducted administrative missions here.
“Uriel, I don’t think the Lord would mind if we land at the lower gates and walk up to the main hall. It’ll give you a chance to study the complex from various angles as we walk.”
Uriel beamed.
Azarias smiled and patted him on the back. The angels landed in front of a large gatehouse that obstructed the main courtyard. The gatehouse invited visitors through a large twenty-foot arched door nestled under large cornices on the top. The cornices lined to the right and left, punctuated by large turrets on each side.
About a couple hundred feet to the right rising behind the gate stood a keep. It sat stout in shape, achieving a height of only about four hundred feet.
Uriel pointed to it. “Look at its girth, Azarias. The rectangular shape compliments the large cylinder donjon standing in the far back.”
Uriel turned circles, examining the arches and cornices, as they passed through the gateway.
Azarias leaned and whispered. “Okay, so far so good. We have not reached the crowd. There must be some assembly in the courtyard. Let’s try to blend in and let the Spirit guide our interactions. Remember, we are trying to uncover enemy angels and find out more about possible angels that are in hiding or imprisoned.”
Uriel grabbed his arm. “Tell me again what we do if we encounter one of these angels?”
“We try to counsel them as to their wrong decision and bring them back into the Lord’s fold. It is not too late.”
Uriel shot a worried glance. “What if they try to capture us the way they did Gabriel, Michael, and Squatinidale?”
Uriel stopped. “Azarias, I see my role as a strategist and resource for knowledge.” He looked down at his toes. “Look at me! I am not designed for aggression. My stature is not like you, Michael, or Gabriel. Why did God put me here?”
“But, Uriel…”
“No, Azarias, I don’t belong here. It reminds me of when I participated in some games. I thought I could compete with others but realized that my gifts were elsewhere, not in activity-based functions. And this…this is far more serious.”
Azarias turned the worried angel to him, holding him by his forearms. “Don’t worry, my friend. The Lord will be with us.”
Azarias pointed to the cone-shaped stout at the right. “We shouldn’t appear out of place, though. I don’t want to invite a confrontation with a large number of angels.”
He caught himself. He must stop thinking out loud and worrying Uriel, who didn’t have the poise to address such risks. “Go ahead and study the environment, my friend. I think it is a good cover.”
Fifty yards in front was a large wall supporting the courtyard on a higher level.
This was odd. Azarias frowned. He heard no voices in the upper courtyard. This district served as the central station for so many subsidiary districts—so why didn’t they hear any murmuring or speeches up there? Were all the inhabitants engaged in a massive prex précis?
The angels turned left and approached a very broad staircase rising to the main courtyard.
At the foot of the staircase, they looked at each other in earnest.
“I don’t like this, Azarias. We should leave.”
“Uriel, every step we take in faith is a step away from our own pride.”
An eerie silence, however, grew upon them as they climbed gingerly.
Upon reaching the last step, they emerged into the upper courtyard.
“Oh, my Lord.”
The courtyard was deserted.
“I can’t believe this,” murmured Azarias. “Where do you hide a multitude? Are they captives or just converted to the Great One’s false light? Either way, we must take caution. Rebels may be lurking in the castle, even watching us.”
“We should leave!” Uriel’s voice rose an octave.
Azarias cupped Uriel’s arm and half-pulled him forward. He had run out of distractions. He glanced to the right, the left, and to the right again. He couldn’t let his rising insecurity leech into Uriel’s spirit, which already approached panic.
Turning left, they faced the main castle. Multiple levels of unoccupied lancet openings greeted them from above.
There was no motion in them. The stout keep on their right hovered over them like a stone cylinder giant pointing straight up toward the Throne. The corbels, hanging precariously from the roof, looked like outstretched fingers, waiting eagerly to snatch the two unsuspecting angels into their majestic, though mysterious dwelling.
Azarias stopped. “Do you feel like we’re being watched?”
“I thought if I said that, it would have shown a lack of faith,” Uriel whispered in a shaky tone.
Azarias exhaled. “Well, the Lord brought us here. We must be faithful.” He knew that every mission was compromised by the traitor, whoever that was. The Lord was in control, wasn’t he?
The angels veered right toward a long and wide staircase inviting them into the entrance two stories above. Azarias eased his foot to the first step and stopped. He lifted his head and again searched the lancets for any movement.
Nothing.
He then placed his foot on the next step with the softness of an amborlite petal. He paused again.
Still nothing moved.
The angels climbed.
“Is this a trap? Why would the Lord lead us into a trap?” Azarias whispered to Uriel.
Uriel grabbed his arm. “If this is a trap, it’s a very good one. How could you hide and silence thousands of angels?”
As they reached the top, a semi-circular landing awaited them. They turned and looked back over the lifeless courtyard. Azarias swallowed hard. “How can this be?”
Uriel gave a nervous smile. “Maybe we can find answers inside. Yes, that’s it. There must be some explanation, and we’re just over-reacting because of the others’ experiences. Yes, we’ll find our answer inside.”
Azarias turned toward the entrance. “Or maybe we’ll find something we don’t want to find.”
At the entrance, the angels took one step inside and stopped. A great hall opened before them, about half the size of the courtyard. Azarias looked at Uriel, who had turned pale.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” Uriel nodded but not convincingly. Again, his voice jumped an octave from its normal baritone pitch. Azarias noticed that Uriel’s stress, and probably fear, manifested itself through his voice. But they were here now, and there wasn’t much Azarias could do different.
The angels crept down the center of the hall.
Azarias gazed at the dozens of colorful angel frescos created on either side, side by side, stretching the length of the room. Each fresco displayed a seraph in an elaborate setting, poised in a position of reverence. The seraphim angels all had the look of royalty on their faces, as if those looking at the frescos should worship them. No two were alike.
“Look at these frescos, Uriel. Why would an angel honor himself in such a way?” Azarias pointed. “Look at those robes.”
Ruby, emerald, or lavender hems bordered the robes in the frescos.
Azarias stopped. “Look at them! I have never seen angels distinguished in their attire like this. What…?”
“Status,” Uriel whispered.
“Status?”
“Yes. Don’t you recall the enemy’s attraction? It was pride, pride to be as great as the Lord is. They also worshipped the Great One, who appeared to be the top of a commanding hierarchy. These displays are testimonies to these angels; a disgusting, prideful display by which they replace the Lord with themselves. They are here for others to worship them and their accomplishment of becoming gods.”
Azarias walked to one of the frescos and ran his hand over the painted frame. “Of course. Squatinidale said the Great One appeared with several angels out of the mountain. They received accolades and cheers from the other angels. Those other angels on the platform must have been the Great One’s generals, so to speak. They must be distinguished from other angels by flaunting a colored border at the bottom of their robes.”