Angel Warriors - HeavenBound Section 3

ANGEL WARRIORS – BOOK THREE: HEAVENBOUND
By: Melinda Reynolds

CONTINUATION, PART 3:


CHAPTER FOUR


I


Michael turned slowly at the sound of quiet laughter, to see Archangel Uriel approaching. He groaned inwardly and steeled himself for Uriel’s reaction; he did not have long to wait.


“Wonderful,” the Archangel’s amusement increased, hands clapping together languidly, “I would not have missed that for the creation of the Cosmos itself…”


“Uriel…be thou silent.”


“Never have I heard a more apropos, and accurate, discourse on the character of an Archangel—”


“By the Gates of Hell, Uriel, do you not see what I am up against? Do you now see how easily my worst fears could have been realized?


“I have said all that I know to say; done all that I know to do, but still he will not –”


“Cave in? Yield to your superior intellect?” The merriment faded from the Archangel’s fiery eyes, “Do you not recall that for centuries you doubted his loyalty, called him traitor and liar, and sought his destruction? Do you not recall humiliating him before his peers, removing him from his command, and stripping him of his office and title?


“I am surprised that he still speaks to you, much less recognizes any authority you may have over him.”


“Uriel…” Michael turned away from him, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I know not what to do. But, your words are true; I have done all that you have said – and more. How can I atone for my errors in judgment, my actions? You saw how he reacted when I tried to explain, to offer apologies; he seemed…almost offended by my attempt to make amends, to return what was taken from him…”


“You can not expect to rebuild trust and respect with a few words and gestures. Can you not see what he wants? It was very clear to me, even half-way across your aerie.”


“Then perhaps you will enlighten me, for I saw only his anger, and the anguish and pain caused by Lucifer’s – and my own – words and deeds. He could not leave here quickly enough.”


“Your perceptions can reach beyond the end of the Universe; you can discern the components of an atom, see the beginning and end of Creation…How can you be so blind now?


“He wants your approval, Michael; that is all. His appearance alone attested to that fact. He rejected all surface aspects that he had chosen since his creation, hoping to find a spark of approval, any indication that he had done something that pleased you. You could not grant him even that minor civility.


“Never have you praised or complimented him; never have you told him how proficient, or even adequate, he was as your lieutenant. Such oversights led him to have doubts and misgivings about his competence and ability. Even when you acknowledge his skills, you manage to take credit for it. Your lack of consideration led him to seek that approval from Lucifer, who was more than willing to fill that need.


“All this time you have laid the blame on Lucifer or Mihdael, when all along just an approving word or glance from you would have prevented this entire debacle.”


“Such observations are easy now, when doubts no longer remain. I would not and will not use flattery to work myself back into Mihdael’s good graces. And I cannot spend all my time shoring up the crumbling confidences of my warriors; they are well aware of their abilities, I need not bring it to their attention. I cannot show favoritism; I cannot single out one warrior and hold him up to be better than the others. I will not make comparisons between my warriors.”


“Will you listen to yourself? Your inimical temperament can be very depressing; at least, I find it so - and I am not one of your warriors. How must they feel with this constant discordant attitude you continually display; perhaps Mihdael’s ‘negativism’, as you called it, was not entirely Lucifer’s fault…”


“If you are saying that I was in the wrong, then yes, I have already admitted that. If you are saying that I am partly responsible for Mihdael’s current state of mind…well, neither can I deny that. But to say that I am seeing everything in a negative manner – then tell me, Uriel, just what is so positive about it? Other than the fact that I am positive that Mihdael will never again agree to be my second-in-command.”



II

Mihdael let the wind currents carry him toward the Golden City, then he banked sharply, angling toward Raphael’s refuge. He knew no one would stop or intercept him, for he was still an outcast, and no angel could take notice of him… Part of him longed for the peaceful, undemanding solitude of the Healer’s sanctuary, part of him longed for companionship of his fellow angels, and all of his being longed to be in battle. A fierce, all-out, no-holds-barred battle that would burn away the desolation he felt inside; a battle that would release his anguish and despair. And maybe the heat of that battle would warm the coldness he continually felt, and fill the emptiness that his existence had become. But he knew he wasn’t fit for combat; he wasn’t even fit to stand guard duty, much less command warriors.


He settled on a mountaintop near the sanctuary, facing the cool breeze. Angels swept by overhead, slowing, then continuing on when they recognized him. They risked a nod, a smile, a wave… small acknowledgements that lifted his spirits a bit. There was no reverberating thunder at this minor infraction of God’s Decree, and Mihdael sent a grateful prayer to Him for that.


A golden glow advanced in the distance, coming toward him at an alarming rate of speed. Mihdael recognized this Angel Warrior, even at a great distance. He considered leaving before the Angel arrived, flying to the secluded safety of Raphael’s refuge. And then abandoned the thought before it was completed. He might be depressed and down, but that was no reason to avoid a friend – even if that friend now held his position as Michael’s Second-in-Command and Commander of the First Legion.


The Warrior Angel Liftheon had, for countless thousands of centuries, served as Guard of the Seventh Hall of Heaven. He had never ventured past the environs of Heaven, had never set foot on Earth. That was before Mihdael came into being. He saw in Liftheon all that Michael overlooked. Perhaps the Archangel thought the big warrior to be too ‘easy-going’, too genial… too unassertive to be part of the Army proper. Outwardly, Liftheon displayed a very non-aggressive demeanor; the ready smile was always evident, and it distressed him to see anyone in pain. Such passive qualities in a warrior had been viewed by Michael as being more suited to the Halls of Heaven rather than the brutality of the battlefield. Mihdael, however, interpreted Liftheon’s character quite the opposite. It was exactly what Mihdael wanted for his own Second; he didn’t want a ‘Michael-in-training’ on a hair-trigger. He appreciated Liftheon’s deep capacity for loyalty, compassion, and courage; more important in a leader, a commander, than strength and ferocity could ever be.


Great, golden wings arced through the air, braking to a halt; then the big, dark-skinned warrior descended, his handsome features grinning broadly.


Before he could say anything, or even utter a sound, he was swept up in an embrace. “Mihdael! I thought that was you,” the deep, hearty voice said, “I tried to visit you earlier, but Raphael said you were at Michael’s aerie. I was heartened to learn that you were doing so well.”



“Liftheon…” Mihdael nearly smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm as he extended his wings to regain his balance; Liftheon set him down, but still held on to his upper arms. “Do you think I am doing well?”


“Always! But I meant your healing must be progressing at a rapid pace if you felt well enough to face Michael so soon after… uh, that is…” The smile faded a bit, and the amber eyes darkened slightly.


“After my return?” Mihdael finished for him.


“Yes… You look… much stronger; even with that façade you’re wearing, I still recognized you under it all.”


Mihdael looked down at his darkly bronzed skin and Raphael’s dark green robe. “You disapprove?”


Liftheon shrugged. “It is not you, but I suppose you have your reasons for wanting to appear thusly.”


“Yes, I do. Or did,” he glanced away, his black hair blown back over his dark gray wings. He finally looked up at his once-Lieutenant. “Liftheon… is it wise for you to be… speaking to me?”


The dark angel smiled broadly, and shrugged massive shoulders, “So, I am sent to guard the Rim at the end of Heaven for a millennia or so. Fair trade, if you ask me.”


Mihdael smiled slightly in return. “How goes the Army, Liftheon? Any… problems?”


“Nothing major. Things have been rather quiet since you were… gone. I think Michael was somewhat bored with it all.”


“That is somewhat difficult to visualize. There were no conflicts, no encroachments, no sneak attacks to give his existence meaning?” His voice became harsh at the end, and he avoided the warrior’s eyes.


“He was concerned about you, Mihdael; not a even a day had passed after you left and he was before God, seeking answers… a way to free you from Satan. He never gave up, never forgot about you; he tried every way he could think of, tried everything--”


“Everything… except ask God for my freedom.” Mihdael’s voice was cold, “No, instead of asking God to allow me to leave Hell, Michael instead chose to … to employ other means.”


“Mihdael, Michael can not, and would not, ask something of God that can not be granted. Better to find a means that would have a 20% chance of success, than risk 100% failure. He took the risk onto himself to free you.”


“ ‘Risk’? Since when is the Archangel Michael ever at ‘risk’?”


“You sound angry. I do not understand. He invaded Hell without sanction from God, without even telling our Father what he was going to do. He knew he would face God’s Judgment upon his return, yet he did so anyway.”


“He seems to have faired quite well from that Judgment.”


Liftheon looked at him, still puzzled. “You… would have him punished for rescuing you? For restoring you to Heaven?”


Mihdael looked away, eyes and voice troubled. “It is… complicated. More – so much more – is involved then merely Michael’s trespass into Hell. I… cannot explain it to you, other than to say that I no longer care what Michael says or does.


“I no longer care to hold a command under him, or take commands from him. I no longer care… about what he thinks.”


Liftheon reached out, a large hand settling on Mihdael’s shoulder. “You sound bitter; such is not like you.”


Mihdael shook his head. “Too many realizations at once, I suppose. I learn of my creation and possible destruction both at the same time; and from the same source.”


Liftheon studied him for a moment, discerning clearly his conflicting doubts and emotional torment. “From Lucifer?”


“Yes.”


“Mihdael, you – more than any of us – know the Fallen One’s true nature. All he says and does has only one purpose: to bring down, to destroy. He would like nothing better than to turn you against Michael, against Heaven…


“Against us…”


Mihdael looked up at him at that. “I would never go against you, or the warriors, or Heaven, Liftheon; no matter what Lucifer would say or do.


“And,” he added darkly, “Michael did not need Lucifer’s intervention to… place us at odds. Our Commander has succeeded quite well on that point all on his own.” He turned away from the big warrior, and gazed down at the verdant valleys below. “And Michael confirmed everything Lucifer told me. I waited for him to… give some indication that I was vindicated in his eyes; that he no longer viewed me with distrust and suspicion.


“I waited for him to tell me that I was once more needed…” He looked up, toward the Tower of the Archangel. “And I am still waiting…”


***


Liftheon remained on the high summit, watching as Mihdael flew toward Raphael’s sanctuary. His heart went out to his brother angel and ex-commander; he had never seen Mihdael so … dejected in spirit and grim in demeanor. He tried to understand Mihdael’s viewpoint – as much as he could from what little he was told; but he simply could not comprehend why Mihdael and Michael were at such contrapositions on something they both wanted.


Both wanted a reconciliation; both wanted to restore the previous status quo; and both expected the other to make the first overture. How could two beings who were so much alike in mind and spirit be unable to find a common ground?


Or, perhaps that was the basis of the problem…


His thoughts were interrupted by a faint buzzing, snapping sound. Liftheon recognized the energy synapses of the Cherubim Class, and turned to see one of the creatures hovering a short distance away. Sarriel was of the ‘higher’ echelon of Cherubim, those who never varied from their original form of pure energy. Their thought processes and perceptions were pure logic/intellect; there was very little emotion in them. It had been his experience that the modicum of emotion that they did possess seemed to be dedicated to scorning all those below their Class.


Sarriel’s whirling form continued on, as if it had paused when seeing the Angels; and whether it had stopped out of respect or curiosity, Liftheon wasn’t sure. But he suspected it was the latter; they were nosy creatures. Brilliant fuchsia surges of energy swelled and spiked, as orange arcs of elemental force crackled its entire length. The ‘wings’ flared out in streams of billowing sheets of transparent chartreuse and yellow. The overall effect was overwhelming – not in power, or strength, or authority… but in aesthetics.


The being slowed as it came near the warrior, and he heard the thought clearly.


“Unfortunate… but expected.”


“ ‘Expected’…?” Liftheon’s questioning tone halted the Cherub as it passed him, and it turned to face him.


“Of course,” the ‘words’ were sent mentally, as the Cherub Class rarely condescended to speak ‘aloud’, “The Archangel Michael is a Seraph, so was Lucifer; and God…” The word came through wrapped in reverence, “There is none higher or greater than God. To take such noble and exalted aspects and place them in the being of an… Angel…” Sarriel trailed off, the gaudy glow dimming a bit then flaring up in the Cherub’s version of a shrug, “Well, it is akin to… to…”


Liftheon’s eyes narrowed, “Akin to what?”


“Is it not obvious? Mihdael has been…unstable from the beginning; ignorance of his creation only postponed the eventual breakdown. Such awesome power and intellect can not be contained in a mere Angel’s essence, much less employed usefully. He will do more harm to himself and those around him than to the enemy. He has not the basic, inherent intellect to be able to cope with anything above his station of Warrior.”


The warrior could only stare at it, dumbfounded; it was difficult to believe that kind, compassionate, and caring Raphael was a member of this elitist Class, was of the same make-up as this heartless creature.


“Mihdael has done no harm to thee,” Liftheon finally found his voice, and the golden wings lifted him into the air until he was face-to-‘face’ with the Cherub. “Nor would he ever lower himself to the level of insulting a fellow Heavenly Host, no matter how deserving of contempt that Host might be.”


“ ‘Contempt?’ An Angel would have contempt for the penultimate Host of Heaven? You presume too much, Warrior.” The yellow arcs crackled disdainfully.


“And you, Cherub, presume too little.” Liftheon withdrew his sword, and Sarriel backed up, quickly. “ ‘Sarriel’ is a very apt name for thee, for thou art the ‘sorriest’ excuse for a Heavenly Host that I have ever encountered.”


The Cherub didn’t wait for any further clarification of Liftheon’s words; it vanished in a flash of fuchsia and chartreuse.


Liftheon shook his head; it was fortunate that God didn’t rely on the Cherubim Class to defend Heaven…


CONTINUED SECTION 4: "Angel Warriors - HeavenBound Section 4"