Heaven and Hell (62 page)

It took just over 20 minutes to cover the distance to the island. This place, where his fellow in exile called home, was a fraction of the size of his island. It was a small mound of jagged rock surrounded by flat lowlands that vanished beneath the black fiery sea when it ran high and rough. On the side of the mound, he had hewn a small cave for shelter from the cruel sulfurous storms. More than a few times Abaddon had bid Batarel to join him in his exile. This cave of his stood barely above the pounding waves when storms were at their worst. Eventually, with the steady rising of the sea, his home would be inundated.

Yet Batarel would not leave. He was more than willing to spend his eternity in seclusion and regret, and there was nothing that Abaddon could do to change that.

Abaddon landed on a level stretch of black rock, just below the entrance to Batarel’s cave, and stepped in. He called out to him, but there was no reply. He walked through the narrow corridor to the only room in this meager lair.

The room was in a state of total disarray. The sparse furniture that his friend had fashioned so many years ago was shattered and scattered about. The grim scene made Abaddon’s blood run cold.

He turned to see a pool of crimson near one corner of the room and a splattering of the same on the wall. The dark angel looked closely. It was blood, angelic blood—Batarel’s blood. He had been beaten and thrown violently against the wall by a gang of vicious aggressors. No one or two demons could match the strength of the angelic warrior Batarel, one of the heroes of the Great War in Heaven.

Abaddon rushed outside, finding previously unnoticed traces of blood along the way. He stumbled down the steep slopes toward the lowlands below. The scattered rocks, the multitude of faint footprints, the traces of blood, all told a terrible story. The once great angel had been roughly dragged along this way by a small army of assailants, dragged toward the turbulent sea.

At the threshold of the island, the land plummeted some 6 or 8 feet to the swirling frothing sea below. Here he found the bloody fragments of a black-feathered wing. They’d dragged him here, shattered his wings, and cast him into the flaming fury. Powerful as he was, he would not escape this horrible fate for quite some time. It might take months, perhaps years before he could escape the fiery sea. Perhaps even longer.

The terrible truth lay before Abaddon. Satan was playing a new game. He had turned upon his own kind. Abaddon scanned the sea in hopes of spotting Batarel, yet in vain. Already his blood was dry upon the rocks. These things had transpired hours ago, and by now his friend might well be miles away. Abaddon knew not how to rescue him—the boiling ooze would ravage his body as surely as it ravaged that of the humans.

Only then did the terrible reality sweep over Abaddon. In his mind’s eye he saw Serena, alone in the cavern, beset upon by this same armada of demons. Might Batarel have told them something? Batarel knew nothing of Serena, but he did know where he dwelled. Abaddon leapt into the sky.

Abaddon flew like he had never flown before. He had to get back before it was too late. He found himself doing something he had not done for centuries—crying out to the Father, not on his own behalf, but on that of his dearest human friend.

With a small basket of vegetables and the mysterious sphere in hand, Serena was walking back toward the main cavern room when she heard the footsteps. Had Abaddon returned so soon? She thought to call out to him, yet caution stilled her voice, something was wrong. She took several steps backward before she beheld a dark form in the tunnel at the threshold of the green cavern. Horror gripped her soul as it stepped into the light. Its batlike wings were partially unfurled, rising above and behind a body largely draped in an ebon cloak. Its dark, gray hands bore long, slender fingers tipped with sharp, dark nails—its face was drawn and contorted, like that of a man of great years. She had seen such a being many times in the past; it was a fallen angel in the service of satan. This essence of evil gazed upon her, a cruel smile revealed sharp, angular teeth.

“At last we meet, Serena Farnsworth,” he said, in a deep gruff voice, as he walked several steps into the cavern. “I hope that you have enjoyed your brief respite from the heaving sea, for now your fate shall be all the worse; I can assure you. Foolish you were to think that you could elude us indefinitely.

“I know not how you managed to escape your eternal torment within the great sea of fire, but your return to it must wait. As much as I would like to break every bone in your body and then throw you back myself, I have other orders. Lord satan is most anxious to renew his acquaintance with you. It is to him that I shall deliver you.”

Serena took another step back, searching vainly for a plan. She carefully sat the crystal sphere aside, hoping that this minion of satan would take no notice of it.

“It was a dark angel, a warrior that granted you sanctuary,” continued the demon, drawing ever closer. “That much I know. But which one, and why? What did one such as he have to gain by such an act?” The demon paused, then shook his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter. If he wishes to be in your company, perhaps we shall allow him to join you in the sea of fire, which is very likely where you shall be when this is all done.”

Serena didn’t respond to the demon’s query. It was no longer just her own safety that concerned her, but Abaddon’s. She had become the source of his demise.

“I suppose I should thank you for wandering into my path. The master will surely reward me for bringing unto him that which he has desired these past months.” The demon scanned his victim. “Ah, but first things first. You cannot appear before lord satan dressed as you are…no, that would not do at all. You have probably rid yourself of the clothing provided you by the master. Fortunately, I have thought of everything. I have brought a change of clothing for you.” The demon tossed a short gray skirt and top at Serena’s feet.

Serena searched her mind for a plan, anything, but it was in vain.

The demon’s smile grew as two pairs of cruel black shackles materialized within his hands. He threw them on the ground in front of her. “Then there are these. Once you are properly attired, you will secure these around your ankles and wrists. They will restrain you during the long journey ahead of us, to say nothing of assuring your discomfort. I shall see to it that you do not escape again.”

Serena stopped in her tracks. No she wasn’t going to try to run. “And you think I’m going to cooperate? You’re mistaken.”

“Don’t so much as think to evoke my anger,” warned the demon, fire flaring in his eyes. “You will cooperate, wench. You are going to stand before the master. You will put those things on. You will do it now, or be all the sorrier for your foolishness.”

“Never,” retorted Serena, who took a bold step forward. “I’m not afraid anymore, not of you and not of your master, satan. I understand your kind now, all too well. You think inflicting pain makes you great, makes you powerful…well, it doesn’t. What it makes you is pathetic, as pathetic as your master. You’re a bunch of losers, all of you; and someday the one and only living God is going to put an end to the lot of you.”

That was it; the demon broke into a rage. Never had any human spoken to him in such a way. He lunged toward Serena, yet he had scarcely touched her when a dark form swept in front of him. He was momentarily distracted. He turned to see it swing swiftly about and lunge at his neck. He felt the sting, like a red-hot poker being thrust into his throat. He howled in pain. He reached for it with his claw-like hand, yet it easily avoided his grasp. It stung him a second time, this time on the cheek. The demon swung completely around, its wings swaying wildly. For a second he was actually in flight, only to make a less than perfect touchdown some 15 feet back.

The tiny creature didn’t give up. For a moment it hovered directly between Serena and her attacker, then it moved forward again, this time striking him at the leading tip of his leathery wing. It stung him and bit him again and again, just out of the reach of the demon’s claws.

The demon flapped his wings again, dislodging his tiny foe. “What sort of sorcery is this?” he roared, flailing about at the air with his claws. “I’ll get you, Serena! I’ll get you for this!”

By now, Serena had her heavy garden spade in hand, the only weapon within her reach. She wielded it before her, trying to hold off her aggressor.

Bloody and enraged, the demon lunged at the young woman, only to be attacked again by the small, winged creature. It hit the crazed demon squarely in the face, clawing, stinging, and biting. Again the demon reached for his tiny tormentor, this time he succeeded. He pulled it away from his brutalized face, bringing a strand of bloody flesh with it. The small creature stung the demon twice on the hand before Serena heard the high pitched scream followed by a sickening crunch. The demon tossed the small mangled body to the side.

“You will pay for that Serena. I’ll make you wish that you were still in the sea of fire.”

The demon made a single step toward the young woman only to be struck squarely in the face by the heavy spade, not once, but twice. It rebounded both times with a loud metallic ring and a spray of dark, red blood.

He stumbled and felt a burning electric pain on the back of his right leg, quickly followed by another on the left. Within seconds he was in the midst of a cloud of tiny creatures, each as savage as the first. In desperation, the terrified minion of satan retreated into the tunnel, running toward the mouth of the cavern as his tormentors pursued him, lighting into him again and again.

Serena dropped the spade and rushed to that first small creature that had defended her with its life. Its wings had been practically ripped to shreds and its body was twisted and broken. Serena knelt before it, reached out to it with her hand. There were tears in her eyes.

The tiny creature looked up at her with dazed eyes, recognized her, and managed a slight smile. Serena was safe; it had accomplished its mission, now it could die.

Serena recognized this one. This was the same creature that had alighted upon her hand on that day when Abaddon had unveiled his creation before Aaron. It was the same creature that had departed rather than frighten her. Now, incredibly, it had given up its life for her.

“I’m sorry,” said Serena, stroking its tiny face. “I’m so sorry.”

For a moment it responded, rubbing its long hair against her hand, then its eyes hazed over as it went still.

“Thank you,” whispered Serena, whose attention turned to the battle in the corridor.

This minion of satan couldn’t be allowed to escape, couldn’t be allowed to alert the others. She’d come too far to be defeated now. Serena reached for the spade and rushed to join the battle.

Serena ran as fast as she could through the tunnel, toward the great room. Demon blood was scattered everywhere along the way, giving testimony to the terrible conflict raging between the demon and her mighty defenders.

She joined the battle within sight of the cavern entrance. The demon had been reduced to a mass of flailing crimson flesh, enclosed in a tattered, blood-stained cape. Here and there she saw traces of grayish bone, so terrible had been the carnage.

The demon made a final rush toward the open air. It burst from the cavern and spread its leathery wings, yet they were tattered and wholly unsuitable for navigating the winds of Hell. The demon turned back toward the cavern to see Serena rushing headlong toward him, the sharp tip of the spade directed at him. Like some medieval knight, lance in hand, she ran him through.

So great was the speed and force of the impact, that the spade pierced his flesh, penetrated his heart, and emerged from his back. Blood oozed from his mouth as he stumbled backward, lost his footing, and plummeted from the edge of the cliff. He bounced off the rocks numerous times during the fall; and finally plunged into the waiting sea, which was just as willing to accept the body of a demon as it was the body of a human.

Serena barely managed to halt her forward momentum at the edge of the cliff, thanks to a dozen of Abaddon’s children. They latched themselves to her in an attempt to check her fall. Serena could see the demon, still screaming, being swept away by the swift current. It was like no cry she’d ever heard, a high-pitched screech that hurt her ears, even from this distance. Within a minute, the intensity of the heat had silenced him as he began his endless journey into darkness.

On hands and knees, and with plenty of help, Serena crept back from the precipice. She gazed out at the burning sea, as the demon was carried farther away. “The shape of things to come,” she whispered. She looked at the 20 or so tiny beings around her, surprised to see many of them nodding in agreement with her remark. She smiled at them. “Thank you, thank you all.”