Fire and Sword (20 page)

A dark cloud of raucous, howling angels under Kara’s command followed the soldiers sent to arrest Peter. They knew he was preparing for the feast and would be in prayer. The angels were vigilant and watched for any indication that Michael or Gabriel might stage an opposition—but none seemed forthcoming.

“The holy ones are quiet today,” said one of the angels.

“They’re around,” said Necros, the leader of this troop. “But Kara said that the Church is focused elsewhere, and there is little prayer to contend with.”

“Then let’s make quick work of this,” the other answered. “Once they begin praying, it will become difficult to manage.”

“Agreed,” said Necros, as the soldiers pounded on the door where Peter was staying. “Our mission is to bring the Church
to
its knees—not
on
them!”

“Are you the one called Peter?” the officer asked.

“I am Peter.”

“Arrest him.”

Peter looked at the officer as the soldier bound his hands. “Thank you, sir.”

The officer smirked at Peter. “Why are you thanking me?”

“Because, my friend,” said Peter, tears in his eyes, “the Lord has deemed me worthy to suffer for Him. Praise be to God!”

The officer looked at the soldier.

“Bind him securely,” he ordered. “These people are not only troublesome—they are insane. His followers may try to help him.”

Four squads of soldiers—four to a squad—were assigned to Peter. Nothing would keep Peter from his date with the executioner the next day. As they arrived at the prison, Peter saw a young man named Seth, who had recently joined the believers. Peter smiled at him and indicated that things would turn out fine. Seth raced away.

“You see?” said Necros, noting Seth’s hasty departure. “The Church is on the run already! Run, young man! Tell the others!”

From a distance Michael and Gabriel were watching the same scene. Gabriel smiled at Michael. “Yes, run, young man! Tell the others!”

Merlos stood near his charge, Peter. He was glad to have been assigned to such a man. He looked at Peter, shackled between two guards. Two more stood at the entrance of the cell.
A different man might be discouraged at such a time,
Merlos thought to himself.
But Peter was actually sleeping peacefully!

“Such peace of mind comes only through the Lord,” said Crispin, who suddenly appeared in the cell. Several angels were with him—students who were learning that “men’s minds are naturally conflicted. But minds that are tempered by the Lord can be at peace in the most extreme situations.”

“Lecturing again, Crispin?” Merlos asked.

“Instructing,” Crispin answered. “These angels will soon be assigned to the Church, and they need an understanding of the ways of men—especially in the heat of crisis.”

“No heat here,” said one of the angels.

Crispin looked at Merlo. “Not yet. But soon it shall be quite hot in here!”

The angels looked at each other quizzically. Merlos only smiled.

Above the prison, Necros was receiving continual reports that became more and more grim. His angels—hundreds strong—covered the prison like a dark net. But around them, in scattered groups, angels of the Lord had begun gathering. A sense of fear was rising in Necros as he watched the growing menace.

“Have you noticed, Corin?” he asked one of his captains.

“We’re keeping a close watch, lord.”

“Yes—and they grow easier to watch. I have not seen this sort of showing since that day at Pentecost when …”

A surge of panic hit when he remembered that Kara would soon be coming to witness his triumph. His eyes focused on an angel speeding toward him.

“What has taken you so long? Report!”

“I’m sorry, lord. I had to break through the enemy.”

“That strong?” asked the captain, who looked around nervously.

“We followed the young one—Seth—as you instructed,” the angel continued. “But he was not fleeing—he was gathering.”

“What do you mean?” Necros demanded.

“He told some of Peter’s followers.”

“Well?”

“Forgive me, lord. But instead of running as we presumed, they are calling out to the Lord. They are praying still.”

Necros looked at the gathering holy angels who were beginning to surround the prison like a milky white veil. A murmur among the angels spread as the word
prayer
was spoken, sending a surge of fear throughout the ranks. Through the blanket of gathering host, Necros saw Michael and Gabriel enjoying the proceedings. He looked at his own troops. They were looking about apprehensively. Necros swarmed around them, rallying them, and encouraging them that the enemy would give way as soon as the humans tired. He reminded them of other occasions when human prayer was bested by a steady assault, wearing down their energy to continue praying.

“That explains it,” he said to his aide. “Even Kara will understand that we cannot stand long against humans who are praying. Can’t we do something?”

“Our scouts can’t even get near the house where they are gathered,” the aide answered. “It’s impossible.”

“Impossible?” a voice sounded.

Necros looked at the silhouette of an angel against the shimmering necklace that now completely surrounded the prison. It was Kara.

“Necros, what sort of security is this?” Kara demanded.

“Peter is still in custody, lord,” Necros offered.

“Not for long, you fool.”

Kara looked at the prison below.

“Perhaps we can’t affect what is happening out here,” he said. “But we still have time. See to Peter personally!”

“Yes, lord,” said Necros.

“And if he comes out, you may as well stay in there. That prison will be your new domain.” He laughed. “Instead of an angel with authority you’ll become a ghost in a prison, haunting prisoners and wardens!”

“I will see to it,” Necros said.

“Kara? Here?” mused Michael.

“Evidently Peter represents more of a threat to them than we realized,” said Crispin. “He has inflamed Herod against the whole Church.”

“And the Church has responded,” Michael said, indicating the many angels that had gathered on the strength of the prayers being lifted.

“True,” Crispin noted. “Prayer is an amazing tool in the hands of believers. I only hope that these don’t drift as all humans have—and allow the weapon of prayer to become just another holy relic like so many things humans attach themselves to.”

“Surely not, Crispin. The Most High’s response to a praying people is convincing enough to keep any follower praying.”

“Is it?” Crispin answered. “I hope you’re right, Michael. But my experience with humans is that they begin strong and wear down easily. They are great starters—but often don’t bring something to conclusion. Prayer must be apprehended. It must be forceful. Above all, it must be done with perseverance—and persevering is something humans have never mastered.”

“Well, tonight they have mastered it,” Michael said. “As Necros will discover.”

“Where is Gabriel?” Crispin asked, looking around.

“About to be discovered!” Michael answered, grinning.

Necros looked at Peter, sleeping between the two guards. He was securely shackled. The other two guards were at their post outside the cell. For now, all seemed well. He thought about trying to influence one of the guards to kill Peter, but the opposition from outside the prison made it difficult to focus on anything that was harmful toward Peter. He looked around for other possibilities.

“Not much hope, Necros,” an angel said.

Necros turned to see Gabriel standing.

“Archangel! How did you get through my wall?”

“You mean those angels of yours? Very easily.”

“Still, you’re too late,” Necros said. “Peter will die tomorrow.”

Gabriel walked over to the cell. He looked down at Peter and smiled.

“You know, for all the terror that Lucifer has inflicted on humans, it’s refreshing to see a man sleeping so peacefully. A shame to awaken him.”

“Wait! What are you…” was all that Necros managed before Gabriel ordered him out of the way with such force that Necros fell backward, paralyzed. He pleaded with Gabriel. “Please! I don’t want this prison to become my home.”

“Might as well get used to prison, Necros,” Gabriel answered. “All of you.”

“A prince of my stature—relegated to haunting a prison!”