To Reign in Hell: A Novel (12 page)

“Very well, Lord.”

“Have them back with the prepared saplings in one hour.”

“As you say, Lord.”

“Then find the archangel Albrot, who worked with Asmodai. Have him fashion swords, to look like Michael’s, only smaller. I want them soon. When they’re ready, replace the saplings with the swords.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Go, then.”

Uriel bowed and left. Yaweh leaned back and closed his eyes, trying not to think of what he had just done.

“One thing about these sticks.”

“What’s that, Sith?”

“Well, if we poked someone with them, it would hurt, wouldn’t it?”

“Huh? It sure would! So what?”

“Well, I wonder if that’s what they’re for?”

“To poke someone with?”

“Well, what else?”

“I don’t know. What makes you think of that?”

“The Plan.”

“You mean we might have to poke angels who don’t go along with the Plan?”

“It could be.”

“You don’t really think so, do you?”

“I don’t know. How’s this?”

“Uh . . . that’s good. Check mine?”

“Ow!”

“I guess it’s good enough, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Yaweh stood before his throne. To his left were twenty angels; to his right were eighty angels; in front of him were another hundred. Also before were Uriel, Gabriel, and an archangel named Raziel.

Yaweh cleared his throat and began. “Greetings to you, my loyal and true angels.”

The angels before him looked at each other.

“I have called you here because I need you,” he continued. “Some of you may have heard of a great Plan being formed. It is true that there is such a Plan. We are trying to make a safe place for us all to live. That is the Plan. You are to be its guardians.

“Why does it need guardians? Because some of your brethren wish to stop it. I will not say who, because I’m not sure of them. I can not say why, because I don’t know. None of them has spoken to me.

“But I know this is the case. I am deeply saddened—” He stopped for a moment and looked away. When he looked back, his face was normal. “I am deeply saddened, but it cannot be helped. The Plan is for all of us equally. I cannot let them stop it by destroying me, as they may wish to do.

“I might be wrong. I hope I’m wrong, but, for the sake of the Plan, I cannot risk myself now.”

He looked at the hundred angels directly in front of him. “You,” he said, “will guard the outside of the Palace, so that none may come near in force. There must be some of you there at all times. You may let groups of four pass; you must stop any group larger than that. You will be called Thrones, for you will extend my throne outside of the Palace, and any gathering that wishes to appear before the throne shall appear before you, instead.” He pointed with his right hand. “You will guard the inside of this palace. You will stand together, taking turns while your comrades sleep, so that none may enter without my leave. You shall be named Cherubim, after Cherubiel who fell in the Third Wave.” He pointed with his left hand. “You,” he said, “will stay near me, around my throne, so that any who get past the Cherubim will be stopped. You will be called Seraphim, after Seraphiel, who also fell in the Third Wave.

“Raziel shall be chief of the Thrones, Gabriel shall lead the Cherubim, and Uriel shall lead the Seraphim.

“And know this, also: No one, be he angel, archangel, or Firstborn, shall give orders to you, save only myself, and your chiefs.”

He looked around at them.

He saw Raziel, Gabriel, and Uriel as their faces swelled with pride. Throughout the room, this same reaction was occurring. To be on the same level as a Firstborn? Even above a Firstborn in some ways? Yaweh frowned. There was something wrong about this reaction, but yet . . . he sighed inwardly.

“Go now to your appointed places. The future of all the hosts of Heaven rests with you.”

With some disorder, as Gabriel and Uriel got used to telling others what to do instead of being told themselves, they made their way to their positions.

Once more, he sighed to himself. He had done what he had to do. Now he had only to learn to live with it.

Abdiel relaxed and controlled his breathing. Soon, he knew, they would be before him, and he would have to act quickly. And carefully. He wanted to hurt the one, but not too badly. He had only a vague idea of how strong he was going to have to be, because, so far as he knew, nothing like this had ever been done. He knew that a blast of illiaster that would only annoy a Firstborn could destroy a mere angel, and that one that would injure a healthy angel could destroy one who was wounded. He knew all of this, but he didn’t know precisely how much to use in this situation, so he was going to have to be careful.

He concentrated on his illiaster, because that way he wasn’t so nervous.

Lucifer and Asmodai wondered at the angels outside of the Palace carrying sticks, and resolved to ask Yaweh about this, too. Inside they found Gabriel. On either side of him was an angel holding a stick, and there were several more around the main hallway. Lucifer and Asmodai ignored them.

“We’re here to see Yaweh,” said Lucifer.

Gabriel bowed. “He doesn’t wish to see you, Lord, as I explained earlier.”

Neither noticed how perfunctory the “lord” was.

“That won’t do,” said Asmodai. “We’re here to see him. If he doesn’t want to speak with us, he can tell us so.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

“Indeed?” said Lucifer.

They began to brush past him—and stopped. In front of them stood six angels, each holding a stick sharpened to a point, and the point was aimed at them.

“What is this?”

“You cannot go inside,” said Gabriel.

They looked around and saw twelve more angels looking determined and excited.

Asmodai turned to Lucifer. “Do you know, I think they’re going to poke us with those things.”

Lucifer nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“Well, have we found out what we came to find out?”

“I guess we have. We were wrong after all.”

“Yes. Unless—”

“Yes?”

“How do we know this is by Yaweh’s will?”

“I see what you mean.”

They looked around themselves and saw the same determined faces, still pointing the sharpened sticks at them.

“I’m going to try something.”

“Okay.”

“Be ready!” called Gabriel. “At the first sign—”

His voice caught. There was the sound of clattering as sticks fell from hands which dropped to sides. The angels around them were staring forward, dumbly.

“Go!” hissed Lucifer between his teeth. “I can’t hold them like this for long. Speak to Yaweh and find out!”

Asmodai ran forward and flung open the door to the throne room. Ten angels with sticks surrounded the throne, Uriel at their head.

The angels spun and stared. “An attack!” cried Uriel. “Stop him!”

“It’s true, then,” said Yaweh.

“That answers my question,” said Asmodai, and bolted.

When he returned, he found a dozen more angels with sticks running toward Lucifer, who was beginning to look worried.

“I’ve found out!” he called. “Let’s go.”

Lucifer and Asmodai, as one, raced for the door. The Cherubim, released, growled and reached for their spears.

“After them,” called Gabriel.

“I hope we’re faster than they are,” said Asmodai.

Lucifer saved his breath for running.

Ariel spotted them from above, despite his poor eyesight. He was pleased with how short a time it had taken. He began circling down to hailing distance, and composing the proper introduction.

As he dropped, something caught his eye. Where was it? There! In the trees off to the side.

He went closer. Abdiel! What was he doing here? He seemed to be watching the road. For what? Was he waiting for Satan and Beelzebub? If so, why not wait where they could see him?

Ariel wondered whether he should stop and ask him. He came a little closer, landing in a tree between Abdiel and the road.

There was a funny feeling in the air, he decided. He tried to think of what it was. It was certainly familiar. Where had he run into it before?

He suddenly remembered and was even more puzzled than before. It was the feeling of illiaster, controlled and ready for use.

In his shrunken, damaged form, Ariel was particularly sensitive to illiaster. He sensed for it and immediately found himself led to Abdiel.

Abdiel? Controlling illiaster? Why? He shook his head and tried to work out the puzzle.

“Methinks all is not well, milord.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“There is that in the air which likes me not.”

“I don’t understand, Beelzebub.”

“Nor I, milord. Yet—” He shook his head. “All is not well,” he repeated.

Michael and Raphael walked on in silence. There was nothing to say. If Satan were, indeed, on the way to the center, they would meet him on this road. If not, they would ask after him until they found him, however long it took.

Raphael was sad that it had come to this, but she hoped to reason with him. She felt strongly for the Plan. If she couldn’t convince him to join, at least he would agree not to hinder it. Wouldn’t he? They had been so close, once.

Michael was angry. He knew that there were others in Heaven who were, well, quicker than he. He didn’t resent it. But to be made a fool of! That was uncalled for.

But he wouldn’t be hasty. He would give Satan every chance to explain. Better yet, let Raphael do the talking. Maybe she could make him see that what he was doing was wrong, was something that was hurting everyone. No, I have a right to be angry, he decided, but I don’t have a right to act on my anger. Not yet, anyway.

They wandered down the road, following its twists and turns, oblivious to the beauty around them.

Soon, thought Michael, soon there would be a reckoning.

Gabriel returned, tired and worn. He entered the throne room.

“I’m sorry, Lord. We have failed.”

“Failed?”

“We didn’t catch them.”

“I didn’t expect you to. You are of the Third Wave. They are of the First and Second.”

“As you say, Lord. Then you know who they are?”

“Certainly. I recognized them.”

“So did I, Lord. We can continue to hunt for them.”

“If you do, there will be fewer to guard the Palace.”

“As you wish, Lord.”

“You’ve done well, Gabriel.”

“Lord? They got past us.”

“Yes, and they were stopped inside. You slowed them down; Uriel and his folk stopped them. Neither of you could have done it alone.”

“But they shouldn’t have gotten this far!”

“Gabriel, there is no greater master of illiaster than Lucifer. I am not surprised that he was able to confound you. But it took all he had—he had nothing left to help his friend.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“And, further, I hadn’t known until now that Asmodai was with them. I suppose I should have suspected it, because he was one of those who went to see—that one—in the South. But I hadn’t known it. Now I do. You have done well this day, Gabriel. I am proud of you, and of Uriel, and of the Cherubim and the Seraphim. You have all proven your worth.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

“You may tell your people so.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Now, back to your posts.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Yes, Lord.”

It was good to know, Yaweh decided, that he could appear strong when it was needed. Had he told them how he felt—but there was no point in that.

It occurred to him then to wonder if something wasn’t wrong when he had to lie to those who should be helping him. Yes, something was wrong. So many things were wrong that it was pointless to count them. What caused this? Who could say? Had he more energy, he would have tried to think it through, but not now, he decided. Not now.

From the top of the tree, Ariel saw Satan and Beelzebub approach. A little later, Ariel saw Abdiel lean forward and extend his hands toward the road.

Stranger and stranger, he thought. The feeling of controlled il-liaster grew stronger, and Ariel realized that Abdiel was about to release something.

Toward the road.

Where Satan and Beelzebub were walking.

From a concealed position.

Everything he had heard about Satan and Gabriel and Yaweh suddenly flashed through his mind. In that instant, he understood.

“It groweth stronger, milord.”

“What?”

“’Tis only a feeling, milord, but much is amiss.”

“Should we stop?”

“Perchance ‘twould be best, milord.”

“For how long, Beelzebub?”

“I know not, milord, but soon! I feel—”

He was interrupted by a cry from above. They looked up.

“Ariel! What—”

Ariel swooped down, his wings wide apart as if shielding Beelzebub.

Then Satan felt it. Illiaster, controlled, funneled, and focused. To him, it would have been an annoyance. To Beelzebub, it may have caused some pain. But it hit Ariel directly.

He screamed, a long wail of agony to come from so small a form. Then his body seemed to collapse upon itself, as paper burning without a flame. It turned to a sheet of black ash, then the ash collapsed upon itself and even that was gone.