Messiah: The First Judgement (Chronicles of Brothers) (18 page)

* * *

The seven pale lilac moons of dawn glimmered on the First Heaven’s horizons as Michael and Gabriel raced bareback on their stallions through the foaming silver waves towards the Palace of Archangels. They raced neck and neck, slowing as they caught sight of Jether in the distance. Michael slowed his stallion to an even canter. Gabriel followed until they reached the shore where Jether stood, grave. They dismounted.

‘The hour has come, my princes.’ Jether said softly. He held out a parchment embossed with the seal of Perdition in his hand to Michael who took it, scanning its contents.

‘The High Council received an extra proviso from Lucifer forty moons ago.’ Jether’s voice was soft. ‘Yehovah sets the time but Lucifer, in his capacity as sovereign ruler of the Race of Men, demanded the right to choose the location of his contest with the Nazarene. His proviso was accepted by Yehovah. He has stipulated through the royal courts that the location of the contest will be divulged only to his blood brothers. And to only one of you. That one must set foot on his domain before the fading of the twelve moons of Perdition.’

Michael’s eyes flashed with a dark fury. ‘What new foolishness is this?’

Jether passed the missive to Gabriel.

‘You must deliberate between yourselves. As, of course, is his intention.’ Jether lowered his tone. ‘We are well aware.’

‘I will go,’ said Gabriel softly. ‘He will only seek to incense you, Michael. And do it with deliberate intent.’ Michael’s chin set. ‘Yes – he may incense
me
,’ he stared angrily back at Gabriel, his emotions strangely charged, ‘but his seductions could still hold sway over
you
...’

Jether placed his hand gently on Michael’s arm. Michael bowed his head, immediately penitent.

‘Forgive me, Gabriel,’ he said softly, ‘his sorceries reach us even here.’

Jether sighed. ‘He has no power here. Your souls have long been freed from his hold. Have faith in each other.’ Jether studied the two brothers intently. ‘Have faith in Yehovah.’

Jether took the missive from Gabriel and placed it in the pouch at his waist. ‘Your escort stands ready at the Western Gate. Lucifer awaits his brother at his summer palace above the Babylonian plains of the Race of Men. Choose wisely. Choose swiftly. The moons of Perdition fade even as we speak.’

* * *

Aretas paced the four corners of his ornate festival tent, Jotapa’s missive crumpled in his fist. He stopped, smoothed the page, and reread the letter for the third time. His black eyes glittered hard with wrath.

Ayeshe knelt before him, trembling. Aretas turned to his chief general. ‘Saleem, wake your generals from their beds. Prepare the royal guard. Ride through the night. Our enemy is time. Do not dare return without my daughter.’

He lifted his hand to Saleem, then strode through the tent’s entrance and gazed out across the white sands to the full moon illuminating the lapping azure waters of the Gulf of Aqaba. He turned to his chief of staff, standing silently in the shadows.

‘Break off all amicable relations with my son-in-law.’ His voice was quiet. Dangerously soft. ‘We will make a pretext for conflict, concerning the boundaries in the land of Gabala, as soon as Jotapa is safe and it suits our purposes – and inflict a severe and ruinous defeat on Antipas. Jotapa’s honour must be avenged at all costs.’ His eyes glittered black with revulsion. ‘As weak and wretched a prince that ever disgraced the throne of an afflicted country ... Mahmoud, pack the tents immediately. Wake the royal servants. We depart at dawn back to Petra.’

He put his hand gently on Ayeshe’s white head.

‘You have done well, my devoted servant.’

Aretas turned and strode back out across the tent court to the large carved stone a ‘Beytel’, that rose behind the tent. On the top of the altar lay the small carved wooden cross from Alexandria. He picked it up and held it tightly to his chest, raising his eyes to the heavens.

‘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 wonder 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!’