To Reign in Hell: A Novel (32 page)

An understanding of hate had been a long time in coming to him, but it had come at last. And with it, he understood more fully than he ever had before the love he still felt for Satan, for Lucifer, for Leviathan, and the others.

He had begun with dissatisfaction, gone from there to hope, and graduated to hopelessness. Now, no matter how things fell out, he knew that he had lost.

“Am I going after Abdiel hoping he’ll destroy me?” he wondered. “No. Not him. If I fall, let it be by Satan’s hand, or Lucifer’s, but not by Abdiel’s.”

It was surprisingly easy for him to hold the image of Abdiel before his eyes and to follow the image. His hand held the sceptre, which could be a weapon of destruction if need be.

What, he wondered, was Abdiel doing at that hole? It certainly looked significant, but what
was
it? Well, he’d find out before he destroyed him, if possible. If not, amen to that, too.

Far to the north under mountains known for vulcanism, the angel who most feared and hated the cacoastrum awoke fully. Something that had been disturbing him, little by little, had finally crystalized. A slowly growing unease which went back many days became solid— and hideously frightening.

His great eyes opened to the darkness, and he felt it with every nerve in his massive body. Fear shot through him, paralyzing him for long moments. He didn’t know why it was happening, since it felt so different from the other times, but he knew fully what it was.

Could he actually fly right into it to stop it? No. Could he resist doing so? Also, no. How long could he stay like this, not doing anything, afraid to do nothing? That would have to be seen.

Lucifer nodded. “I will admit,” he said, “that this makes many things clear that weren’t before.”

Asmodai and Lilith nodded. “However,” said Lilith, “it doesn’t change anything.”

“I agree,” said Satan. “We do what we must.”

They sat in silence, none of them wishing to address the next question. The silence became uncomfortable. It continued, and became intolerable.

Finally, Lucifer said, “All right, I may as well ask it: Who is going to lead our forces?”

Beelzebub nodded, but was silent. Satan cleared his throat.

“It is clear,” he said, “that I have been wrong every time I made a decision—except, perhaps, the decision to see Yaweh. I am no longer capable of—”

“Crap,” said Lilith.

Lucifer looked at her. “Huh?”

“It seems to me,” said Asmodai, “that you, Lilith, are the only one of us who understood from the beginning what this was about. It is obvious—”

“Crap to you, too,” she said. “Lord Satan, it is unfortunate that you are the one the angels look to, but that is just how it is. It is also unfortunate that you won’t be content to let others lead in your name, but I know you. You won’t.”

Satan nodded, watching her closely.

“Well, since you won’t, we’re stuck with you. If you had had the courage—the courage of mind, I mean—to lead us before, we would have won long ago. If I had had the courage of mind to challenge you openly and campaign among the angels to win their allegiance, we would be in a position to win now.

“But none of those things happened. The angels still look to you for leadership. Therefore, you will lead us. But listen to me, Satan: It is only because we are so much stronger than Yaweh that we have survived all of your hesitations so far. We have, still, a chance of winning.
That is despite you, not because of you. If you err once more, we will lose, and be cast out of Heaven or destroyed.

“So be careful. Dealing with enemies who are angels is no different than dealing with the flux. You do what you must, when you must. Remember that, as we go into this. Do you understand?”

Satan looked at her a long time. Then he nodded, once.

Abdiel worked hard and fast, but carefully. He had to hold tight control over himself to keep from being destroyed by the powers he was using.

The seepage he had detected allowed him to expand the area of the hole, which he did before trying to deepen it. After half an hour or so, it was as deep as his height, and as wide.

Slowly, then, he began to work his way down further. As he did so, he felt the cacoastrum grow stronger, and he had to use more and more of his energy to prevent its affecting him. But, at the same time, he had to use less and less to do the actual work.

The top of the hole was well above his head now, and the deepening would soon begin to happen on its own. When that began, he would leave and get as far from there as he could—using the illiaster to transport himself.

Then he would watch, laughing, while the angels busied themselves trying to fight the Wave. Of course, he might die himself, but if he didn’t, there was at least some chance that all of those who were after him would die.

And if not, well, he would make them remember him, anyway!

He chuckled to himself. “The angel who started the Fourth Wave.” Not a bad name to be remembered by, he mused. And they would certainly regret having listened to those who—

“Good morning, Abdiel.”

Abdiel looked up and saw Mephistopheles standing at the edge of the pit, looking down at him, the corners of his lips turned up into a half smile.

“Hard at work, I see. Mind if I interrupt?”

SEVENTEEN

God would not permit such a crime.

—Alexander Dumas

Yeshuah stood on a large
stone and surveyed his army. Thousands of angels, swords gleaming in the morning light, looked at him. He smiled and nodded, then turned the other way.

He could hear the sound of the surf just a league or two distant. He could smell the salt in the air. And he could see Satan’s army lined up in their thousands across shore.

To Satan, the sea would be a place to stand, to hold from. To Yeshuah, it was a place to drive the enemy into.

Yeshuah reflected that it was odd, but not surprising, that Satan was on the defensive despite his larger numbers. All of the recreant angels who served him knew deep in their hearts that their foe was the Lord God, omnipotent, immortal, timeless, and eternal. How they must be quaking!

Yeshuah raised his sword high and brought it down again. He leapt forward off the rock and ahead of the angels in front. The Seraphim marched with him, two on either side, because he would have no one first. The Cherubim came behind, the eight of them clustered as close as they could. Uriel was at Yeshuah’s right hand; Gabriel was directly behind him.

Even with the rearmost of the eight Cherubim came Zaphkiel, off to the right flank with his Thrones numbering twenty. On the other side was Yahriel with a hundred Dominions.

This was the vanguard. Behind them came five hundred Virtues led by Michael, whose sword shone so brightly that none could look directly upon it. And next came Camael, who led two thousand Powers, and Nisroc after him with ten thousand angels formed into a new Order created for the battle and called Principalities, for they fought for Yeshuah, the Prince of Heaven, and they cried his name as they came.

Behind them, Barachiel, his beard black and his eyes bright, led the Archangels who stood for Yaweh, and the rest of the angels who had chosen Yaweh came behind, and their Chief was called Adnachiel. The army followed in Yeshuah’s wake. Knowing the terrain from Zaphkiel’s reports, he took them through a path such that four could walk abreast. Then it expanded.

It took a long time for them all to go through. When they did, they saw a cleft. It was three leagues deep and two leagues wide. Those in the vanguard moved forward so the others could file in behind them and form ranks. This also took a long time.

But when it was done, they began to march forward. Those on the right flank looked to the small path on the other side, but nothing was there. Yeshuah, in front, moved toward the far edge of the cleft where the waves crashed against the rocks.

Opposite them was Satan who still wore the gold cloak of the Firstborn. The emerald still shone upon his breast, and his green eyes were narrow and grim.

His right hand held a sword, the point of which rested on the ground. His left hand was held out to the side, telling those behind him to wait. He seemed made of stone.

At his right side was Beelzebub, also still and unmoving, his eyes fastened on the oncoming army. His weapons were his teeth.

A pace behind him to the right stood Lucifer. He held a short rod of scarlet light with a golden hilt in his right hand. He, also, wore the gold cloak of the Firstborn. Lilith stood to Satan’s left, and she held a
spear—a gift from Asmodai. It seemed to jump in her hand as she rested its butt against the ground.

Behind these four came the might of the angels in rebellion, their faces grim, their hands holding blades, spread out before the cliff some fifty paces in front of it.

Behind them were a few large shapes that the oncoming army couldn’t quite see, but gave little notice. And behind these, just barely, they could make out the awesome shape of the head of Leviathan, eyes blazing, maw just slightly open.

The distance between the two lines diminished to a league—half a league—a quarter.

Satan lowered his hand.

Raphael and Harut went to a high place, over the sea and above the battle. Raphael watched the lines get closer and closer together, then she went beneath the tree where Harut waited and leaned against it.

“You don’t want to watch?” said Harut.

“No. Would you like me to report what happens?”

“No.”

“Tell me something, Harut: Why is this happening? I can’t blame Satan, and I can’t blame Yaweh. I can’t blame Lucifer, or Asmodai, or Lilith, and I can’t even blame Yeshuah. Who, then? Is it really all Ab-diel’s fault?”

Harut shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, honey. It is, that’s all.”

“That isn’t good enough.”

“No, it sure isn’t, honey. But it’s what we’ve got.”

Raphael nodded. “Lie down, Harut. I want to take another look at your eyes.”

Without another word, he complied.

Yeshuah was faster than the Seraphim around him. With a great cry, he sprang forward to meet Satan. The Regent of the South held his sword aloft, but before he could swing, Lilith cooly stepped in front of him and impaled Yeshuah on her spear.

He gave a cry and went down clutching his side as Lilith withdrew her spear for another attack. Uriel caught up then, and, screaming with rage, cut at Lilith’s head. She stepped back and thrust with the spear. Uriel twisted out of the way and swung at her head. She ducked the blade, her face expressionless, and thrust at him again. Once more he twisted and cut; once more she ducked and thrust.

Another Seraph tried to come at her from the side, but Satan moved to block him. The Seraph cut downwards, and Satan’s sword fell from his hand. The angel lifted his blade again, but Beelzebub leapt at his throat and then they were on the ground, rolling and tearing at each other. Satan picked up his sword and turned back to help Lilith, but saw Uriel on the ground, writhing and clutching at his thigh.

Lucifer behaved oddly. As the Cherubim came up to him, he raised his rod into the air, and it emitted a bright red flash.

From behind the lines, three great machines grunted as ropes were cut, and soon, deep within the ranks of the angels of the Lord, there were explosions of fire and cries of the wounded.

Asmodai, standing behind the lines next to one of the catapults, nodded his satisfaction. “Load them again,” he said, “and this time stagger the firing. As you load, you others change the aim a bit.”

Zaphkiel turned at the sound of the explosions. His eyes narrowed, and he traced the smoky lines in the air until he saw the three large objects behind the lines of the enemy. He nodded then and calmly directed the Thrones into a spear formation, and led them directly at the line of angels, toward the three machines.

Michael moved toward a side and began to clear it. His sword cut through the blades of his foes as if they weren’t there, and one after another fell. Only rarely were they wounded; more often they would cry, fall, and then melt away to illiaster.

Staying close behind him, the Virtues cleaned up anything he missed. Soon the line began to waver, and angles began to break before him rather than face the golden sword whose touch was the final end.