Angelic Wars- First Rebellion

by Rick E Norris

  He wept into his folded arms. “I am not a leader. I am not a servant. I am not.”

  He couldn’t move. He had lost his will, no God’s Will, to go on. What about the other three? They’d probably abandoned him by now.

  He didn’t care.

  A motion nearby caught his attention. He heard nothing, but he felt the disturbance in his energy. He raised his head and squinted through his swollen, wet eyes.

  Feet.

  Small bronze feet, with legs, standing in front of him.

  His eyes followed the feet up to the head.

  “I hope I am not dis…disturbing you,” stuttered Squatinidale.

  Chapter 23

  “Mai Deus Exsisto vobis.” Squatinidale edged a little closer.

  “He’s not,” scowled Azarias. He dropped his head back into his arms.

  How did Squatinidale get to him without the others seeing? They should have seen him approach. The Al Birkan headquarters loomed on a high knoll, allowing views in most directions. The Lord’s Spirit would have blown the scent of Squatinidale’s spirit as he neared.

  “He’s not what, Azarias?”

  “He’s not with me,” said Azarias, through a raspy, though muffled voice.

  Azarias felt Squatinidale sit next to him. He turned and saw the little angel assume the same position, staring into the distance. Azarias slumped back into his despair.

  The presence of the little angel surprised him. The last time Squatinidale left their presence, the weight of his decision to go with Abaddon weighed on him. The Septemviri had discussed his situation frequently. Was Squatinidale moving back into the Lord’s Spirit, or repelling away within his own will? In any event, he wished he would leave.

  “You know, Azarias, I used to wish I were someone else.”

  He paused. Azarias did not look. He really didn’t care.

  Squatinidale snickered a little. “First, I wanted to be Abaddon. He was excellent as a herald. I marveled at the way he could energize other angels. But now I see where his pride took him. He spiraled away from the Lord’s Throne and closer to the Siq.”

  “Then, I wanted to be you.”

  Azarias looked up. “Me? Why me? You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew me the way God knew me.”

  “Do you remember when you rescued me?” Squatinidale shot a glance. “What a presence you had. You talked Abaddon down and called upon the Lord’s fiery legions to support you.”

  “Yes, Squatinidale, I remember what happened, now please leave.”

  “Well, you saved me from throwing myself into the Siq. I no longer wanted to dwell with the Lord. I felt so unworthy.”

  Azarias glanced out of the corner of his eye. “The Siq?”

  “Yes, and when you came to rescue me, I knew the Lord wanted me, but still I couldn’t forgive myself. I tried to find a way back through knowledge at the Bibliotheca. All got was a fiery image of the Great One and those who had tracked me there.”

  Azarias ran his finger in the silicium. “So where did you go?”

  “I went to where I always felt the Lord’s Spirit the strongest: Ephesus. There I could plead and praise the Lord with the support of an entire audience. The jewels in my veins sparkled, and I knew He loved me regardless of what I had done and what I looked like.”

  “Did you feel abandoned?” Azarias searched Squatinidale’s eyes for any deceit. He hardly trusted anyone these days.

  “Abandoned is the correct word, Azarias. But it wasn’t the Lord who abandoned me, it was I who abandoned him. He never left.”

  Azarias considered him. “And you are telling me this because…?”

  “…because I spoke to Michael and Gabriel. They told me about Raffaela and the others.” Squatinidale fixed his eyes on Azarias. “I asked them if I could speak to you.”

  He looked down and then connected his eyes again. “You see…You see…you’re my hero.”

  Azarias’s eyes welled up. What could he say? All this time he had focused on himself, and not on the two things he should have been focusing on: his relationship with the Lord and his relationships with his fellow angels.

  The silence consumed them. Azarias looked away to the mesas. He recalled the events that led to this moment. The constant questioning, the anxiety every time something went wrong. Did he really love the Lord as much as he believed he did? He remembered what Raffaela told him. I think we are all capable of abandoning the Lord when put in the right circumstance. As long as the Lord gives us the free will to love him, we also possess the free will not to.

  Azarias stood and paced a few steps and rubbed his forehead. What a transformation in this little angel. He turned and gazed again at Squatinidale, who looked down as if he wasn’t sure he had said the right things. Had God sent him with this message?

  Azarias dropped his head and smiled. Of course, He did.

  Walking up to Squatinidale, Azarias placed his hands on his shoulders. “Will you come with us to find the others?”

  A thin, vertical, emerald line dangled from the Laodicean plateau, vanishing beneath the plains below. The thundering falls grew louder as Azarias, Uriel, Michael, Gabriel, and Squatinidale passed through the massive archway canvassing the cascading profundo.

  Azarias lagged slightly behind the others, his breathing fast. Had Raffaela plunged over this raging edge?

  Laodicea stretched a square kilometer with gated walls boarding the majestic district on three sides, abutted by the archway on the fourth. To their left spanned a large stadium like in Ephesus. In front arose the spiritual house secreting the Profundo River that exited behind them. Seraphim walked from place to place, busy with missions.

  “Where do we start?” Squatinidale asked, eyes riveted by determination. He stood rigid, ready to impose his stout nine-foot frame on anyone who opposed them.

  “We start where the profundo enters the district, the spiritual house,” Azarias ordered.

  The angels landed facing the portico and entered. Azarias stopped and inspected the aquatic-lime room. On their left, profundo entered, exiting on their right. The polished ceiling reflected the pool, making Azarias wonder which was real and which a reflection.

  “Hello,” said a brawny angel, entering through a passageway from another room. His eyes radiated pink; his hair, shiny black. Azarias could sense a cold, unloving spirit strangling the greeting. This demeanor hadn’t existed before the rebellious ones’ invasion. “I am the administrator of this house,” he continued in a sharp and irritable tone. “If you want to bask, you must not disturb any of the other occupants.”

  Azarias inspected the profundo. He didn’t smell the putrid odor as he did in Ephesus. Only one angel appeared to be on the premises. “Excuse me, but we are looking for an acquaintance of ours…”

  “Oh please, I am not a directory for long-lost angels.” He rolled his eyes, his voice cracking. “We have had a very traumatic experience that upset the spiritual serenity of our visitors. I am going to have to ask you to leave before you make it worse.”

  Michael, steely-eyed, stepped forward and picked up the angel by his middle wings. “We would like to know about your traumatic experience.”

  The angel’s mouth dropped open. His eyes faded to yellow. Stuttering, he said, “About a hundred angels were basking in the profundo when a strange occurrence caught all of us by surprise.”

  “And that was…” said Michael. His patience was tried.

  “As you can see,” the angel continued, “the profundo seeps from under the wall on your left. The river flows through the other far wall and over the plateau’s edge almost a kilometer away.”

  Michael lowered him.

  “A strange object bobbed up from the depths of the profundo. It just unexpectedly bobbed to the surface and started floating. At first, we stood there gazing at this buoyant phenomenon. As it journeyed toward the opposi
te wall, several angels jumped up and retrieved it, bringing it to the edge of the fast-flowing pool.”

  The administrator crinkled his face. “We noticed that it was made of angel wings.”

  He looked to Azarias. “We were really frightened. We didn’t know what to do. I don’t know if you are aware, but so many strange events have been happening in Heaven.”

  The five angels didn’t respond.

  “So, we left this odd shape right here, hoping for some guidance from the Lord’s Spirit.” The administrator pointed toward his feet as if to add to his credibility.

  “We vacated the spiritual house, leaving the object here for some time. However, later, when I returned, the strange object was gone.”

  “Gone?” Azarias asked.

  “That is right,” the angel continued. “Someone had taken it, or it rose on the Lord’s Spirit and left. Either way, the odd sight would have attracted attention if it left this structure. So, we are perplexed with how this object exited.”

  Raffaela? Could they be too late?

  Azarias’s heart dropped. He turned to the others. “If this were Raffaela, why didn’t they recognize her as a seraph?”

  Squatinidale edged a few steps toward a doorway in the wall next to where the profundo bubbled to the surface. Like all areas in Heaven, the Lord’s Spirit lit the area behind it. However, there did not seem to be a back wall within the passage.

  Squatinidale turned to their departing host. “Excuse me.”

  “Yes, what now?” he responded with a smirk.

  “Where does that passage lead?”

  The administrator glanced at Michael. “Down to the underground rivers of the profundo. It also branches to other districts, some reasonably close to here.”

  Squatinidale turned to the other four angels. “If no angels saw her leave the structure, then Raffaela had to go through that passage.”

  “Do you think Raffaela was spiritually cognizant when she departed the structure?” Gabriel asked.

  “Either that or Raffaela was carried out,” Uriel stammered.

  Directing Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Squatinidale to follow, Azarias went through the doorway, landing at a narrow trailhead offering a vast view of a submerged canyon.

  The five angels leaned over the ledge, examining the ravine from a steep bluff. What were they to do? He had hoped that someone would see Raffaela, not just describe the presence of a strange object made of angel wings.

  “Come on,” said Azarias as he hurried down the path.

  The trail switch-backed in a Z-shape, guiding them into its depths, passing back and forth under a river of profundo rising from far below, all the way up to the spiritual house—a stunning one thousand feet.

  “I have never seen this before,” Squatinidale yelled above the roar, his eyes brightening. “When I stand behind the profundo, I can see the translucence of the Spirit like a veil passing over my eyes.”

  Michael reached out to pierce the shimmering emerald spirit. “That’s strange. This spiritual liquid doesn’t have the same touch as normal profundo.”

  “What do you mean?” Azarias asked.

  “Well, our profundo, like the vinifera in Philadelphia, is hot with the Lord’s Spirit. Here, the profundo is lukewarm as it flows into Laodicea.”110

  “Maybe the profundo is passing through a rebellious territory, robbing it of the Lord’s influence,” suggested Uriel. “This could explain the strange conduct of the angel we met in the Spiritual House.”

  Squatinidale lowered his eyes and then gazed into the canyon. “Strange behavior has become commonplace in Heaven during these times.”

  The other angels nodded but offered no comments.

  A muffled noise startled Azarias. He turned and peered into a deep enclave in the bluff. A passageway into the cliff. The others channeled behind him through the narrow corridor. Damp spirit moistened Azarias’s wing tips as they brushed against the low-hanging ceiling. He came to a fork in the path and stopped. Holding his hand up, he listened for the noise again.

  “Over here,” he motioned, meandering to the right.

  “Do you think it’s Raffaela?” whispered Squatinidale.

  Azarias refused to lose focus.

  He turned a corner. “Pollyon!”

  * * *

  110 Revelation 3:14-16

  Chapter 24

  Pollyon lay imprisoned by a golden ring. With his knees folded to his chest and wings pressed to his mouth, he struggled to speak. The damp, narrow, and slightly darkened enclave imprisoned him from the rest of Heaven.

  Azarias dashed over and stretched the anti-energy ring over his head. The shiny and sparking ring moaned at his touch and sent a numbing jolt through his arms as he gripped it. “Pollyon, what happened? You could have been imprisoned forever. What if we hadn’t come to Laodicea or entered the spiritual house?”

  “Where is Malachy?” shouted Michael.

  “Where is Raffaela?” demanded Gabriel.

  Azarias raised his hands. “Please!” He motioned to them to sit down. “Pollyon, talk to me.”

  Pollyon rubbed the ring’s scar on his arms. “Malachy and I arrived at the deserted spiritual house only to find Raffaela abandoned and wrapped in her wings. We didn’t know if she purposely wrapped herself thus, or if someone somehow encased her against her will. But Dionysius was right. She surged through the underground crevices of Heaven from the Philadelphian vinifera to the Laodicean profundo. But she didn’t move.”

  Pollyon stood up. “We ripped open her wings, too frantically perhaps, unsure of what we were going to find.”

  Azarias listened, shuddering at the image of her in his mind.

  “Raffaela was catatonic. We called her name. Her eyes remained closed and her spirit refused to respond to our pleas. We tried to shake her, we tried to infuse the Lord’s Spirit, we tried…we tried!”

  Pollyon looked down into his hands as if they were useless tools. Then he looked at Azarias. A blank expression layered his face.

  “And then…they appeared.”

  “They?” Azarias asked.

  “Yes, in the doorway leading to this ravine. They appeared as if they knew we were coming.”

  Pollyon’s eyes seem to abandon their purpose as he gazed somewhere beyond Azarias’s comprehension. “Abaddon and a dozen rebellious angels.”

  “Abaddon?” Squatinidale’s voice trailed off.

  “Yes.” Pollyon grabbed Squatinidale’s arm and leaned closer. “Abaddon and the others appeared with authority in the spiritual house. He said that Raffaela now belonged to the Great One.” He looked to the others. “I didn’t know what to say.”

  Azarias placed his hand on Pollyon’s shoulder.

  Pollyon continued. “Malachy protested, saying Raffaela was already committed to the Lord as a Septemviri. Abaddon told Malachy that when Raffaela was in her winged cocoon, she relinquished this commitment. She surrendered her soul to the Great One!”

  “I can’t believe that!” Michael closed both fists. He paced away from them and then turned and came back.

  “No, it is true,” argued Pollyon. “The Great One used his power to rescue Raffaela from the clutches of uncertain exile. Abaddon said the Creator carelessly imposed this prison on Raffaela and abandoned her. They called the Creator inept.”

  The other angels let out a collective gasp.

  Azarias remained quiet. How could Raffaela betray the Lord? She had been the one to inform Azarias of the danger.

  “I was speechless,” Pollyon confessed. “How could they know what transpired between Raffaela and the Lord? No angel could have access to another angel’s innermost feelings.”

  Then he paused and shook his head. “Or could the Great One have that immense power?”

  “Why didn’t you and Malachy try to stop them?” Michael asked,
his tone slightly accusing.

  “I haven’t told you the most shocking part,” Pollyon snapped. “Malachy consented to their wishes without a fight.”

  “What do you mean, without a fight?” Azarias said.

  “What I mean is that Malachy stood up and backed away from Raffaela.” Pollyon paced. “I asked Malachy what was happening, but she just looked at me and exited into the canyon.”

  Nobody said anything.

  Pollyon looked into Azarias’s eyes. “Malachy is a traitor.”

  Malachy? Azarias never would have guessed that she was the one. But then, he could see none of the Septemviri as a traitor. Malachy a traitor. He kept repeating this, trying to believe it. Malachy a traitor.

  Squatinidale chimed in a low unsteady tone, his courage seeming to wane. “I understand. The power of the Great One can turn one’s spirit away from the Lord. Now, the rebellious leader has wooed two of our comrades, Raffaela and Malachy.”

  “Why would they want to leave you here, Pollyon?” Azarias asked.

  “They told me that I was of no use to them, only be a burden on their journey back to the Great One’s throne. They also knew that you would find me, displaying their power and their choice to take no angel by force, but to allow every angel to defect according to her will.”

  Azarias had heard enough.

  But he wasn’t cowed, not this time. Too much was at stake. Raffaela was at stake. Malachy was at stake. Azarias grabbed the ring and walked out into the canyon. They had to go after their comrades. He refused to believe that two Septemviri had betrayed the Lord, but then again, this whole mission shook his beliefs to their core.

  He slipped the ring just inside the crevice opening on the ledge. A weapon of this sort should be kept in hiding. He had now seen it neutralize two angels.

  Pollyon staggered out with the others.

  Azarias, walking to the side of the water-rise, peered down into the gorge. “Pollyon, do you know where this cavern leads?”

  “No. But, they did mention the Pergamum Bibliotheca.”