War of Wings (14 page)

G
abriel forced himself to keep flying until he could reach somewhere to land and pull himself together. After shooting up the tiers of the Marble Falls, he veered over to the Great Forest and dropped down next to one of the giant pine trees. He landed hard, dropping instantly to his hands and knees. Then he began to pray, which he didn’t do often. He probably prayed less than any other angel in Heaven. Even he couldn’t deny that having everything he knew about God, Heaven, and the angels be challenged felt wrong.

“God, if You’re still there—no, I know You are still there. Hear me now. I have lost my best friend. I’ve abandoned the angel I love. Now I have made many enemies. I am alone, and I need Your help. If You are who I have always believed deep down that You are, then You will come back and tell me what to do.” He lifted his eyes to the dimmed light of God’s throne. “Please!”

He waited, but there was no answer. “Please, God. Give me a sign!” Nothing. Gabriel sat there with his head in his hands. He wondered why he had been created at all if this was all he was meant for. His armor read, “
Miles Gloriosus et Nuntias Dei
.” He knew why it said Glorious Soldier. It was the “
Nuntias Dei
”—Messenger of God—that he didn’t understand. He couldn’t even get through to the angel he loved. In fact, the only person who thought his opinion was important was Michael.

Gabriel used to wonder why there was practice combat when there was never any real combat. At times, he would feel it silly to be a great warrior angel. Now he could see he was being prepped for this particular time his whole existence. God knew this was going to happen. Maybe he was supposed to fight for Arrayah. Gabriel didn’t understand God dimming His light, but he trusted Him nonetheless. And he was suddenly filled with a renewed sense of purpose. At least holding onto hope was better than facing the realities of a hopeless end.

He was about to rise to leave when he heard the snap of a twig near him. He jumped to his feet, ready for combat, and looked around the thick pine tree. He caught sight of an angel walking away from him and ran forward in pursuit. After ducking under a couple of tree limbs, knocking off some leaves and needles, he went straight through a smaller branch. As it snapped off, he popped out on the other side to realize there was no one there.

He was not used to the darkness that had taken over Heaven. It had never been this dark. Not even close. He was frustrated by his poor vision, and the darkness made him feel alone.

“I know you are here, so come out and fight!” he yelled. “I can hear you moving!”

He waited for a second, and the rustling noises faded until silence again settled on the landscape. A voice began to speak.

“Will you make enemies of everyone now?”

It was the same voice from the orange grove, the one he was beginning to think was a dream. He would recognize it anywhere. “I have already made enemies out of everyone, including my best friend. I don’t know what I am doing anymore.”

“Don’t worry; Michael will forgive you. He has a pure heart. He was only concerned for your well-being, as am I.” The seraph’s lilting voice was again mesmerizing.

“Why is everyone so concerned with me? I am only an archangel.”

“Sometimes the most influential come from humble beginnings, Gabriel. Michael cares because he is your friend. I care because I know what you can be.”

“So you believe I can save the angels too, I guess. Well, that’s just great.”

“I believe you can and that you will become much more than you realize. But you must also believe in yourself,” said the seraph.

“I’m not concerned about me. I care about what’s going to happen to Arrayah. How can I save her?”

“Remember what God has written on your armor, Gabriel. That is who you truly are. You must realize it. Everyone cannot be saved.”

“Who says they can’t?” he demanded.

He felt the seraph’s presence disappear as before.

“How do you know what is written on my armor? I have never even seen you. Hello?” He waited for a response, but none came. This time he was not surprised. “Of course, you’re gone,” he muttered as he crumbled to the ground. He sat against a tree again, resting his arms on his propped knees.

He ran his thumb over the words inscribed on his chest plate. “Glorious soldier and messenger of God,” he mouthed. He closed his eyes for a minute to think. Exhaustion and fevered thoughts overcame him. Time was lost. An image of thousands of angels weeping flashed through his head.

He opened his eyes, not knowing how long he had been there. He needed to find Michael—to apologize and warn him about Lucifer. He needed Michael’s help to save Arrayah. Gabriel stretched his wings and took off toward the heavenly city. He soared over the field, turning it golden yellow, and flew up the jeweled layers of the Great Mountain before landing on the ledge. As he neared the closest pearl gate, he saw for the first time there was no dominion guarding it.
He pulled his wings in until the lower feathers brushed his calves. He shoved the gate open enough to squeeze through and headed for Michael’s home.

Michael lived in the city in a house elevated about halfway from the gates to the throne level on the south golden ramp. His house was made of stone and was the least grandiose of the homes around it. It was only one story, and the only thing that made it stand out from the rest was its unremarkable nature.

In the yard were two tall white oaks like the ones from the White Woods of the north near the Lake of Purity. There were footprints very close together in the soft soil at the base of one of the trees. Someone had been spying on Michael. Did Lucifer have someone watching him?

Gabriel knocked on Michael’s front door. No answer. Gabriel was still drained from everything that had taken place, so he decided to wait at the door. It seemed the easiest course of action. He plopped his large body down on the raised step on the porch, and his armor clanked against the stone. He leaned back against a thin pillar.

He lay there for hours, thinking about what he would say to Michael when he finally came home. He really was sorry for how he had treated him. He hoped Michael would not only forgive him but forgive him quickly. He needed him.

Then his mind raced back to Arrayah. He thought of what he could possibly say to her the next time he saw her. He had to snatch her from Lucifer’s clutches. Perhaps she and Saraquel were telling the truth and she really had been fooling Gabriel the whole time. Maybe none of it had been real. In his heart, he knew there was more than she had admitted. She was under an influence that was not of Heaven. Even if she kept saying she felt nothing, he didn’t believe it. If she were to pay the consequences for transgressing God, then Gabriel would go to God Himself on her behalf.

He pictured her screaming and turning black as Michael had described. He watched as the light in her beautiful blue eyes went out and her writhing in pain as her body transformed. He winced as her skin charred to ash and her wings and hair were consumed by fire. He could smell them burning. She was burning up right in front of him, and there was nothing he could do. She screamed his name as she burned—
Gabriel! Gabriel!

“Gabriel, Gabriel! Wake up! What are you doing here?”

Gabriel jerked awake, startled. Michael’s looming figure looked down at him. He needed to shake off his visions of Arrayah, but it took him a minute to pull himself back to reality. Then he smiled up at Michael. Michael’s face showed no emotion. Gabriel was pretty sure he was still angry. He didn’t blame him.

“Michael, I’m glad you’re back. Look, I’ve thought about what you said and you were right. I am sorry for the way I treated you. I—”

Michael stepped over him and opened his door. His voice was as flat and unfeeling as his expression. “I’ll be right back. I need to get something.” He walked in and shut the door behind him.

Gabriel stood and waited at the door. Michael seemed to be unforgiving, contrary to the seraph’s words. He must have hurt Michael physically as well as emotionally. This might be harder than he had hoped. After a few minutes, Michael returned holding a massive sword in his left hand. An ornate inscription ran down the blade about the spirit of God, and a large star shone on the end of the pommel. The blade itself was over ten feet long.

“Whoa, take it easy. I said I was sorry. I didn’t think I hurt you that bad.” Gabriel scrambled back off of the porch, his foot meeting air on the steps and causing him to stumble before he regained his balance.

“Oh, really? You are sorry, are you?” Michael stalked down the steps.

“Yes, brother. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I should have listened to you from the beginning.”

Michael advanced, raising the large blade. He lunged forward and Gabriel flinched. The sword’s tip stopped an inch short of his chest.

“Good, brother! I forgave you the first time you said it.” Michael revealed his right hand from behind his back and tossed a large orange. Gabriel caught it purely by reflex, then laughed as Michael’s words sank in.

“Oh, and don’t worry,” Michael continued, “you could never hurt me. It felt like a stiff wind had knocked me over, not the glorious soldier of the archangels.”

“Right. You stood your ground about as well as a stalk of wheat.”

Michael propped the sword on his shoulder and started back to the house. “I saw you flinch, by the way.”

Gabriel showed no sign of hearing. He was wrapped in thought about what Michael had just said about him being the glorious soldier. “I know what I must do,” he said.

Michael turned. Only the trace of his smile remained.

“I must fight against Lucifer to save Arrayah.”

“Hold on. What are you talking about?”

“A seraph has spoken to me twice now. The first time she warned me that many would turn from God and to trust my heart. It turns out she was right. The second time was earlier today, and she told me to remember what is written on my armor. It says “Glorious Soldier,” so I must defeat Lucifer in battle to save half of the angels, including Arrayah.”

“Your armor also says
Nuntias Dei
. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gabriel.”

“How many messages have you ever seen me deliver? I am a soldier, Michael.”

“Lucifer is the highest of the cherubim. I don’t think picking a fight with him may be the best option right now. Just be patient.”

Gabriel shook his head. “You have said yourself that I would be responsible for saving over half the angels of Heaven. How else could I do it if not with fighting?”

“It is not for you to decide. God will let you know what to do when the time comes.” He clapped Gabriel on the back. “Either way, I will be there with you.”

Gabriel peeled the pristine orange and let the rind fall to the ground at Michael’s feet. “Well, I didn’t listen the first time to the seraph, and that was the wrong choice. I won’t make the same mistake twice. I am going to confront Lucifer and bring Arrayah back. I know where he holds his secret meetings. I could use your help to keep others from getting involved, but either way, I am going, so don’t try to stop me.”

Michael studied Gabriel for a moment and then picked up the rind from the ground. He placed it in his tunic pocket. “I didn’t get my sword out for nothing.”

Gabriel broke into a smile. “Let’s go.” He sprinted out to the street, and Michael followed without hesitation.

Gabriel ran down the golden streets toward his home, passing the seven archangels’ houses. Each one represented the personality of its inhabitant. Azazel’s was overreaching, with lavish fixtures, fountains, statues, and columns. Uriel’s was conservative in size and ideas but made of the finer things. Raphael’s was very cozy and welcoming, surrounded with many flowering plants and trees and a garden often visited by animals. Azrael’s property was paved and void of life, not so much as a blade of grass; the house was very tall and made of solid grey stone. Saraquel’s home was a mix of styles drawing from each of the other six archangels’ homes. After passing all of them, he came to his own house. It was a bit messy, and the yard was cluttered with books, writing quills, archery targets, and, of course, fruit peels. A pool of semi-clean water sat in the front yard, and the house itself was made of wood and brick.

He stormed in and came out shortly after gripping a weapon similar to Michael’s, only a little thicker at the base. It wasn’t clean and polished like Michael’s sword. In fact, it had a little mud on the blade, but it was elegant nonetheless.

“I can see you still take care of your sword.” Michael grinned.

“Not everyone is as particular as you. I think my sword prefers to be a little dirty. It shows that it is seasoned and not sitting around doing nothing, like yours.”

Michael chuckled. “I attend the games every year just like you. Lead the way, Glorious Soldier.”

“Yes, but it’s what you do in between the games that keeps you sharp. That is why I am victorious.”

“Ah, yes, and humble too,” replied Michael. He followed Gabriel to the city’s gate on the south end, and as they walked out, Gabriel jumped up with outstretched wings and soared off toward the Field of Tranquility. As they zoomed over the luscious field, the swaying wheat was overcome with blue light.