Messiah: The First Judgement (Chronicles of Brothers)

by Wendy Alec

  ‘Help me, Hebrew.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Terms of Engagement

  Lucifer flung open the colossal doors of his newly constructed summer palace and walked out onto the eastern terraces. He watched in gratification at the lone chariot that flew through the clouds, its escort long turned back to the mid heavens, thundering towards his recently constructed monstrous alabaster edifice.

  Lucifer himself had been the grand architect of the palace and its exotic hanging gardens suspended leagues above the sweltering Babylonian plains in the Second Heavens. Branches of myrtle, willow, and juniper trees hung low over the upper terrace walls, while thousands of almond, date palm, ebony, and terebinth trees flourished along the lower terraces. Nightshade, pomegranate, plum, pear, quince, fig, and grapevines were entwined over a hundred terraces and arches supported by hundreds of colossal alabaster columns. Brilliantly coloured flowers of every hue dangled from the ramparts. Below, in the inner sanctum of the palace, were over a thousand golden-vaulted chambers and underground crypts that housed his vast libraries of iniquities – the records of every genealogical line of the Race of Men.

  He raised his face to the skies and moved his palm across the heavens. Instantly, the plains of Perdition appeared. Lucifer stared at the twelve pale magenta moons of Perdition rapidly fading from the desolate smouldering horizons of hell.

  ‘The moons fade – you are just in time, brother,’ he murmured. ‘Marduk, unbolt the palace doors – I would bid my brother welcome.’

  * * *

  The platinum wheels of the royal chariot sank down into the green lawns of the hanging gardens. Instantly six of Lucifer’s attendants stepped up and bowed deeply as the carriage door opened.

  Lucifer stood in the enormous arched entrance of the palace. He surveyed the tall, muscular figure who stepped out of the carriage and onto the palace lawns with satisfaction. Michael’s loose golden mane fell well below his broad shoulders onto his emerald velvet cloak. He wore the white ceremonial robes of his battalion trimmed with gold. His strong, chiselled face was set, his green eyes inscrutable. Lucifer smiled in pleasure.

  ‘Ah, Michael...’ He strode towards Michael and kissed him warmly on both cheeks. ‘I knew you would come, brother.’

  Michael stared at him coldly. ‘Your mind games are wasted on me, Lucifer.’

  ‘Of course, my brother, you were never cerebral like Gabriel,’ Lucifer smiled again, indulgently.

  ‘No matter.’ He grasped Michael firmly by the shoulder and led him through the winding corridors. ‘I have something I wish you to see...’

  Together they strode through the winding palace corridors under Lucifer’s magnificent frescoed ceilings, descending downwards into the thousand golden vaulted chambers beneath the palace. Finally they stopped at heavily guarded enormous gilded doors. Twelve Luciferean Guards bowed deeply in reverence, then unchained the doors. Lucifer walked into the chamber, followed closely by Michael. There, ahead of them, manacled to a colossal alabaster altar was a carved golden casket with golden cherubim – the Ark of the Race of Men.

  ‘The Ark...’ Michael murmured in awe.

  ‘Ah...’ Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with exhilaration. ‘How well I know my brother. Long has Michael wished to gaze on that which is no longer his.’

  ‘Stolen ... I believe would be a more appropriate word.’

  Lucifer winced.

  ‘Michael, Michael – How undeserved. Not stolen – appropriated. I did not take it, it was placed into my hands by its stewards themselves.’

  ‘Your methods hold no interest for me. You stole it. By manipulation, by your evil scheming you reign king over the Race of Men.’

  Lucifer picked up the golden key and slowly opened the casket. Twelve golden codices occupied the ark, the covers of the large books embedded with jacinth, diamonds, sapphires, chrysolite, and multitudes of other precious stones.

  ‘The title deeds to the earth and its solar system, the Second Heaven above the earth,’ Lucifer said, ‘bequeathed by Yehovah to the Race of Men.’ He swung around. ‘Bequeathed by the Race of Men to me. I reign Prince of their world. This is Yehovah’s covenant, bound by Eternal Law ... Adam’s defection – my greatest triumph...’ He spun around. ‘So far.’

  He strode from the chamber through the lower corridors out onto the sapphire pathway of the lower terraces. Michael followed him down the majestic pavilions of cedars and great oaks to a portico surrounded by magnificent gushing waterfalls. The scent of frankincense permeated the pavilions.

  Underneath the portico stood a sumptuously decorated table lavishly set for three. Balberith took Lucifer’s cloak, then Michael’s, placing them on a podium behind them. Lucifer reclined back in an ornately carved ivory chair, then motioned to Michael to do likewise in a second.

  ‘So...’ Lucifer smiled languidly. ‘The Nazarene has reached the age of thirty years, as counted in the Race of Men. Yehovah’s protection is lifted.’ He held out his cup to his cupbearer who filled it at once with a thick gold and strawberry elixir. ‘Drink, brother...’ Lucifer addressed Michael. ‘You have a long journey,’ he paused, ‘...home.’ Michael held out his goblet to the cupbearer who filled it.

  ‘You are well?’ Lucifer enquired. Michael nodded. ‘Gabriel is well?’ Michael’s eyes narrowed. Slowly he nodded.

  ‘You are concerned about our health?’ Michael asked, a rare mischief flickering in his eyes.

  Lucifer studied him lazily. ‘I have missed your dry humour.’ Lucifer picked up a soft sugared rose-coloured delicacy, and placed it into his mouth. ‘I have missed much of Michael.’ He turned his full sapphire blaze to Michael.

  Michael lowered his eyes. He had been away from Lucifer’s presence for aeons yet could suddenly feel the familiar seduction drawing him close. Lucifer’s danger, Michael considered, lay in his very intensity. His reverie was broken as a tall muscular figure sat in the chair to his right, his hair as blond as Michael’s, his stature as imperial.

  ‘Your Majesty. I present Astaroth ... Grand Duke of Perdition,’ Balberith announced. Michael stared at Astaroth, his soul suddenly strangely filled with a thousand unheralded emotions from worlds long past. Astaroth laid his helmet down on the table. He bowed his head in deference.

  ‘Chief prince Michael of the Royal House ... welcome to Perdition.’

  Lucifer watched intently, ‘How touching.’ A small smile flickered at his lips. ‘Two old comrades in arms.’ He studied Michael’s face. ‘How long is it since you fellowshipped, brother?’

  ‘The fellowship is broken.’ Michael said coldly. ‘Astaroth chose his bed.’

  Astaroth stared at Michael a long while. Enigmatic. ‘And I lie in it.’

  Balberith and his courtiers placed huge silver dishes of steaming boar and venison down before them. Michael brought his head close to Astaroth’s. Lucifer watched him out of the corner of his eye.

  ‘Do you have no regret, Astaroth?’ He spoke in an undertone. ‘You were one with Gabriel and I, a prince of the Royal house. When you lie awake at night, do you not feel shame for your treachery – for all that was and could have been?’

  A fleeting vulnerability crossed Astaroth’s features. He looked deeply into Michael’s gaze, then back to Lucifer, then stared out at the waterfalls. Michael stared over to Lucifer in exasperation.

  ‘It seems you have Astaroth’s tongue.’

  ‘Under iron control. I rule by force. Coercion. I take no prisoners.’

  ‘Yet each and every one is a captive.’ Michael’s voice was very soft but fierce.

  Lucifer spun around. ‘I tire of my brother’s conversation.’ His voice held a soft venom.

  ‘And I tire of my brother’s diversions.’ Michael replied heatedly. ‘Where is the contest to be held, Lucifer?’

  ‘My dull and dogged Michael ... you become uninteresting.’

  Lucifer reclined back in his chair and sipped from his goblet.

  ‘Oh – Where is the second Eden to be? Which ancient wo
nder of my planet earth – which magnificent edifice is to be our backdrop?’ Lucifer tore off a boar’s leg with his hand and sank his teeth into it voraciously. ‘Michael, shall I meet the Nazarene at the Mausoleum of Maussollos, or the Pharos at Alexandria...?’

  Lucifer threw up his arms dramatically. ‘Is it to be the Sphinx at Gaza ... the Statue of Zeus at Olympia made of marble and beaten gold?’ he continued. ‘Many moons I have spent to find a location fit for the Nazarene.’

  ‘I have no time for your indulgences.’ Michael glared at Lucifer impatiently.

  ‘Marduk!’ Lucifer idly picked up a silver casket, toying with it with his ringed fingers. ‘My younger brother’s temper turns ill.’

  He passed the casket to Marduk. ‘Read the contents aloud to my fractious brother. The location that I, Lucifer, have selected for our contest.’

  Marduk unclasped the casket and removed a scroll. He opened it.

  ‘The contest will be fought, mi’lord, at the location named Mount Quarnel.’

  ‘Mount Quarnel?’ Michael exclaimed, snatching the missive out of Marduk’s grasp. ‘Mount Quarnel is a wilderness, Lucifer!’

  Lucifer studied Michael, his expression inscrutable.

  ‘A wilderness...’ Lucifer smiled at him tantalizingly. ‘How careless of me ... Two Kingdoms contesting for the Race of Men on a desert tract – one that obsesses him so.’ He took another huge bite of the boar’s leg and chewed for a long moment.

  ‘It is fortuitous, Michael.’ Lucifer moved his head to Michael’s, his voice an undertone. ‘The Nazarene will be scorched in the desert – without food forty days – fainting from hunger ... it will be greatly to my advantage.’

  Michael bowed his head to Astaroth. ‘I have what I came for. I take my leave.’ He rose, then snatched his cloak, incensed, his hand on his sword. ‘I shall be there to witness your defeat, Lucifer.’

  Lucifer stood, his arms outstretched. ‘You miscalculate, brother!’ Balberith draped his cloak over his shoulders.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ he hissed. ‘If the Nazarene obeys even one of my commands ... just one, Michael ... He will be my craven subject. Just like Adam before Him. To do my will. Yehovah’s pathetic little rescue mission is thwarted.’

  Lucifer bowed to Michael. ‘The seal is lifted.’ Michael watched him striding down the corridors, his indigo cloak billowing after him. ‘The Nazarene is mine!’ he cried. The faint aroma of frankincense lingered in his wake.

  * * *

  Michael flung the doors of Gabriel’s southern chambers wide. Gabriel slowly turned from the balcony. ‘You are back safe, brother. I am comforted.’

  His gentle features were haggard.

  ‘I have been tormented by dreamings, Michael – I have seen his very intention.’ Gabriel walked towards Michael. ‘He will lay his kingdom at his feet – the Ark, the title deeds, the books of judgements, the book of iniquities. It is in his hands to give to whom he would choose.’

  Michael nodded, unclasped his sword belt and placed it wearily on a jacinth throne. ‘He chooses the Nazarene.’

  ‘Let us walk.’ Gabriel and Michael walked together across the vast diamond floors of Gabriel’s chambers, beneath the soaring vaulted ceilings until they reached the arched door of his private retreat that led to his glass house palace that hung over the very edge of the Crystal Sea. The soaring glass house’s floors were of lush lawn and covered in foxgloves and lupins of every colour of the rainbow. Grand pools flowed into waterfalls that fell leagues down into the Sea. Gabriel strode over the flowers that sprang up under his feet and dived into the deep silver pools. He surfaced.

  ‘Christos is birthed of mud and dust.’ He pushed his hair back from his eyes. ‘Encased in a body of matter. He confronts Lucifer and his evil scheming as one of the Race of Men. If He falters even once...’

  Michael stared eastwards out towards the shimmering Rubied Door far in the distance. ‘Yehovah’s plan to liberate the Race of Men from Lucifer’s tyranny is lost.’

  Gabriel nodded, his gaze dropping to the silver casket still clasped in Michael’s left hand.

  ‘Where is the contest to be, Michael?’ Gabriel whispered. ‘A second Eden?’

  Michael followed his gaze past the Rubied Door to the vast golden bulrush meadows of the Eastern plains of Eden. The brothers watched the sheer majesty of the undulating rainbow horizons in silence.

  ‘No, it is far from any Eden, Gabriel.’

  Michael bowed his head, a terrible suffering on his strong features.

  ‘The contest will be fought at Mount Quarnel, north of Jericho. He will face Lucifer in a wilderness, surrounded by wild beasts.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Vale of Temptation – AD 27

  Jesus surveyed the vast expanse of barren, stony wilderness, His strong, imperial features set as stone. His long dark hair, lashed by the fierce desert sandstorm, thrashed against his bare, sun-scorched shoulders in the wind. He stumbled across the harsh, rocky terrain, faint from hunger and exhaustion. In the distance, a second figure walked towards Him. Lucifer stopped ten yards away, dark hair flying, majestic, noble. They could almost have been brothers, although Lucifer stood a clear three feet taller, his six wings spread behind him, his scarlet cloak blowing behind him. The dark seraph.

  In the distance, Astaroth, Dagon and Moloch stood silent, high on the mountains, behind them thousands of the fallen host waited, menacing, covered in shadow, in their monstrous black war chariots.

  Jesus looked resolutely at Lucifer. He studied the Nazarene’s crystal clear gaze.

  ‘So this is what it’s come down to...’ Lucifer laughed manically. ‘The great Yehovah ... Christos, sovereign ruler of the universe, ensnared in matter. Jesus of Nazareth...’

  Jesus was silent.

  ‘The seal of the seventh stone has been lifted. You are unprotected, Christos.’ Lucifer walked towards him menacingly. ‘You have none of your former powers now – you must pass the tests as one of them. It is the condition of the Codices.’

  Jesus continued to gaze at him. In silence.

  Lucifer spat. ‘That I would ever see such a day – Yehovah, Almighty Creator, denying Your deity and taking on their inferior form. Lower than the angels. It insults me,’ he spat.

  Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. ‘But maybe You are not He. I require proof...’ He swung around. ‘If You are the Son of God, then prove it. You fast and are faint from hunger – turn these stones into bread.’

  Jesus stood completely still as Lucifer moved closer. Lucifer leaned down and picked up a stone; it turned to bread, freshly baked ... still steaming.

  Jesus bowed His head. He had been without food for nearly forty days, and His famished body was starting to rebel violently.

  Lucifer took and ate. Revelling in Jesus’ torment. ‘Satiate Your hunger.’ He held out the fresh bread.

  ‘Matter requires sustenance to exist,’ he smiled, ‘unlike the angelic.’

  He studied Jesus with narrowed eyes, then tore more of the bread and bit into it deeply. With great relish.

  Jesus bowed His head. His voice was faint. ‘It is written by My Father: man shall not live by bread alone but by every word of God.’

  Lucifer studied Him for a long moment, then moved his hand across the skyline. Immediately he and Jesus stood on the lofty pinnacle spire of the temple of Jerusalem. Lucifer watched Jesus intently, drawing nearer to Him.

  ‘Thirty years away from His presence, away from the very elixir of life – You suffer, Christos; I sense it,’ he whispered.

  A terrible grief crossed Jesus’ face. ‘Hearken back to your days of glory!’

  Lucifer knelt on one knee and bowed his head. ‘Behold, O God our defender, and look upon the face of Thy chief princes, for one day in Thy courts...’ A slow cruel smile spread across his face as he raised his arms raised to the heavens. ‘...is better than a thousand elsewhere.’

  Jesus said nothing as He watched image after image of Lucifer and the archangels bowing before His
throne. An agonized sob rose in Jesus’ throat, and He turned to Lucifer, suddenly vulnerable.

  Lucifer was ready. ‘I suffer as You do, Christos, each and every dawn.’ He reached out his hand, still wearing his ring with the royal crest of the House of Yehovah. Jesus stared in recognition at the royal seal, and an intense, searing yearning coursed through Him.

  Lucifer smiled. ‘I know what it is to be desolate, Christos – away from Him.’

  * * *

  Jether walked slowly out of the entrance to the Holy of Holies, his white head bowed in silent supplication.

  ‘Lucifer revisits Eden as the tempter.’ Gabriel turned his face away.

  ‘This is no Eden,’ murmured Jether, his face ashen. ‘He is now to be tempted under all the pressing conditions of the fall.’ He walked towards the edge of the hanging gardens, looking out towards earth, and raised his hand. Instantly Mount Quarnel came into view.

  Michael watched Lucifer and Jesus of Nazareth in horror. ‘He launches the whole fiendish arsenal of hell against Him. He has meticulously planned it.’

  ‘We wait, Michael.’ Jether placed a firm hand on his arm and bowed his head.

  ‘Have faith.’

  * * *

  The tempter continued, ‘A carpenter’s son from Nazareth cannot herald in a kingdom unless they proclaim You their king ... They do not understand Your deity, Christos,’ he whispered, ‘even in Nazareth, the carpenter is a prophet without honour...’

  Christos bowed His head.

  ‘You – the Great King of the First Heaven have made Yourself lower than the angels, Christos – for the sake of what? The Race of Men? You have granted them free will, and yet they embrace me! They do not care that You were born one of them. The sacrifice of the great Christos is passed over, completely disregarded in the Race of Men.

  An evil smile played across Lucifer’s mouth as he caressed the ring. ‘What visions of despair, what desolations have filled Your soul these forty days and nights, Christos – visions of a mission aborted ... a mission failed?’