Fire and Sword (3 page)

“Where are they now?” asked Drachus. “Still in that house?”

“Yes,” said Berenius, “they are still praying. Just as Jesus instructed. They come and go. Mostly come.”

“The sheep have no shepherd anymore,” sneered Drachus. “He left them! I would be praying too!”

Berenius shook his head.

“He left them, yes. But with instruction to pray until they received power. This war is far from over.”

The two dark angels watched as more and more holy angels descended in and around the area of the building in Jerusalem where the group of loyal Christ followers gathered. It had been weeks since the dramatic events at Calvary had taken place, and now something new was brewing…something unsettling.

“The last time so many of the enemy began gathering at Jerusalem was when the Most High met in that same room to break bread with them the final time,” mused Berenius. “Now they meet without Him in prayer—but in His name.”

“Jesus,” Drachus muttered derisively. “Jesus.”

“That name!” boomed a voice from above. “That name.”

Berenius looked up to see Kara, one of Lucifer’s commanding angels. Kara’s short, mixed blond-and-brown hair and dark green-blue eyes suited his double-minded and often erratic nature. It was his tendency to make decisions based on the current situation rather than on a core philosophy that brought him to his current situation. His ambition had gotten the better of him when he threw in with Lucifer, but it was too late to turn back once defeat was evident—and thus he was cast out of Heaven with the others. He sometimes longed for those days when he was an elder in the Kingdom; now he was merely one of Lucifer’s commanders in the greatest gamble in history.

Kara was responsible for gathering intelligence on the enemy and ascertaining the Most High’s next area of attack. His network of spies was legendary among the angels, and he was regarded with weary respect. Most also thought him a fool.

“They continue in the upper room of a house, my lord,” said Berenius, who was Kara’s chief aide and skilled in fomenting murder and intrigue among humans. “They pray continually. Otherwise nothing new to report. They pray.”

“And wait,” added another voice. It was Pellecus, another of Lucifer’s closest counselors. “They pray and wait.”

Kara looked disdainfully at Pellecus; he regarded him as an academic who knew nothing of practical intrigue. Having been one of the greatest teachers in the Kingdom, Pellecus was a bitter and very willing participant in Lucifer’s bid for power. He had taught at the Academy of the Host, but when he had been disgraced because of his unorthodox teaching, he swore allegiance to Lucifer. He now acted as Lucifer’s voice to the other angels who had fallen—a prophetic puppet who gave explanation for his leader’s strategy of war against the Most High.

“Then let them pray,” sniffed Kara. “So long as they keep waiting. My contention is that with Jesus out of the way the rest shall follow in short order.”

Pellecus shook his head at his comrade’s ignorance.

“If we have learned anything in this war, it is the fact that the Most High does not make idle threats,” said Pellecus, as the angels gathered together for the meeting that would shortly take place. Pellecus loved an audience, even a captive one. “No, my brothers, He intends to continue the war through these people—not despite them.”

“Nevertheless, He has departed,” said Kara with little real comfort. “For now.”

“Take no pleasure in His absence, Kara,” came the familiar voice of Lucifer.

Everyone’s attention turned to the figure who now emerged from a corner of the room in which they met—the house of a Jewish noble. Lucifer greeted his council with gregarious nods and bid them to come to order. They had not seen him since the Lord’s dramatic victory at the tomb. But they didn’t anticipate his return in such vigorous, even humorous disposition. He had discarded the purple robe of his previous office in Heaven for a simpler white robe with a grey mantle. As always, his steel-grey eyes housed a keen and cunning mind. Pellecus was the first to speak.

“You are looking well, my lord,” he said with a bit of timidity. “In light of our current circumstances…”

Lucifer laughed aloud. “How diplomatic of you, Pellecus,” he said. “Come! Sit! All of you. It is time we spoke of the future—however grim it appears.”

The angels who made up Lucifer’s leading council assembled around a very ornate table, a gift to the wealthy Jew in whose home they met, from a merchant in Pompeii. Lucifer had long since given up the possibility of returning to the chamber in which they once met—in the Kingdom in Heaven. But he enjoyed the idea of meeting in the home of a Jew and an avowed Christ hater.

“My brothers,” he began, “it is not so long ago that we met in the former Kingdom in order to discuss the outrageous behavior of the Most High. We looked forward at that time to a great struggle—one that would result in true liberation for angels. We lost our place in Heaven and carried the war to earth where, as you know, we had a measure of success in Eden.”

Some of the angels snickered as they recalled Lucifer tempting Eve.

“With that success we created the very real possibility of separating humans from their Creator—and hoped for some sort of compromise with Him. Instead, He was determined to stubbornly cling to the notion that humans might freely respond to Him in love. Thus He prophesied a Coming One—the Seed of the Woman—who would one day avenge the disgrace of Adam and reconcile humans back to Himself.

“We fought with vigor and great passion—and for the most part succeeded in plunging humanity into a world of blood and murder and crime. But the Seed remained an obstacle, and we were not able to prevent its arrival. Thus we contended not with a mere man, but with God Himself wrapped in human flesh.”

“How disgraceful,” muttered Kara.

“And brilliant,” said Lucifer. “I never foresaw such a possibility. But in doing so, this man Jesus became for humans a sacrifice—an atonement for all crimes committed by these unrighteous, ungrateful creatures. Nevertheless we destroyed Him! I thought perhaps the matter had ended in a draw.”

Grunts of approval.

“Instead, as you know,” continued Lucifer, “He rose from the dead! Himself! And suddenly our contest was with a risen Savior rather than a dead one. He championed His people and stayed with them for a while—and suddenly left them with a promise that He would return again one day for a final settling of accounts.”

The words had a chilling effect on the group. Lucifer smiled.

“No, He hasn’t returned… yet,” he said.

Nervous laughter.

“But that brings us to our current situation.”

Lucifer stood and looked out the window toward the house where the disciples were gathered. Many holy angels could be seen, almost filling the atmosphere around the building. He indicated the scene outside.

“So many angels gathering—such a large assembly of the enemy isn’t a coincidence,” he began. “This is not about prayer—this is about war. What you’re looking at is the opening attack in a new phase of the struggle.”

“But to what end?” asked Tinius, one of six who sat on Lucifer’s council of war. Tinius viewed Lucifer’s summations cautiously and often spoke out with a pessimism that affronted his leader. “Jesus has returned to the Most High. Is it not too soon to be praying for His return?”

“This isn’t about His return, Tinius,” responded Pellecus. Everyone looked to the angel whose wisdom they respected. “He plainly indicated in prophetic language that His return would occur following certain catastrophic and global events.” He shook his head doubtfully. “No, this isn’t about Jesus’ departure or return; it is about another One’s arrival.”

“Glorious! Glorious!”

Crispin’s observation of the hundreds of holy angels descending upon Jerusalem was heartening and exciting. Since Calvary and the Resurrection, the Host had been wondering what the next phase of action might be and when it might occur. Though none could guess the Lord’s move, all knew that something spectacular was about to happen.

“Ah, Michael!” said Crispin. “Glorious day! Just look at the Host! Great things are happening in Jerusalem today.”

Michael nodded at his old friend in agreement. “And look at all the people here for Pentecost,” he said, indicating the throng of pilgrims coming to the holy city to celebrate the great feast.

Jews from all over the world were arriving and filling the city with a joyful and busy celebration. The Romans weren’t particularly fond of such events; a noticeable presence of soldiers reminded the people that they were guests of their emperor. Crispin looked at the people and shook his head.

“Yes, Michael,” he said. “They come as always.” He looked again at the great numbers of angels around them. “But this year they might expect something a bit different!” He winked at the archangel who had been a one-time student.

Crispin was the most renowned teacher at the Academy of the Host, where the angels received instruction on the ways of the Kingdom. His dedication to upholding the traditions and truth of the Most High earned him the admiration of the Host. It also placed him squarely against Pellecus, who had become his rival in Heaven because of the poisonous doctrine he had introduced at the Academy. The two former colleagues had remained rivals ever since—particularly after Pellecus threw in with Lucifer completely and followed him in his disgraceful opposition to the Most High.

Michael’s face became serious. He was the most ardent and intensely loyal of all the angels in Heaven. He had been appointed archangel and captain of the Lord’s Host, and his authority was respected both in Heaven and on earth. His dark hair flowed down his back like a wild horse, and the fire of the Lord burned in his eyes. It was well that the enemy steered clear of his presence.

“I see none of Lucifer’s agents around here,” he said, looking at Crispin. “But I sense their presence nearby.”

“Oh, to be sure, they are near as they dare,” agreed Crispin. “They also know that something spectacular looms—spectacular and deadly.”

“I would like to know their plans,” Michael continued. “They must know that they are finished.”

“Pride never knows when it is finished,” said Crispin. “That is the essence of pride. No, Michael. They will continue to plot and fight and wage whatever war they can muster against the Most High—or rather against His people.”

“Always against the people, hmm?” observed Michael.

“Of course,” said Crispin. “They cannot strike a blow at the Most High. So they seek to wound Him in His heart—by striking out against that which He most loves.”

The two angels nodded and greeted other angels as they moved in closer to the building occupied by the disciples and their followers. The festive mood of the angels reminded Crispin of the announcement of the Creation when joyous celebration filled the Grand Square in the Great City of Heaven.

“There you are!” came a voice.

It was Gabriel.

“We thought we’d find you here,” said Crispin. “Do you know what this is all about, Gabriel? You always know before the rest of us!” He laughed.

Gabriel looked at his friend Michael and his teacher Crispin. He loved these two angels because of their love for the Most High. Gabriel understood Michael like no other—for he, too, was an archangel, also responsible for the great messages and announcements to be relayed throughout the Kingdom. The three of them had, with the help of a couple others, begun the uncovering of Lucifer’s malicious plot to overthrow Heaven so long ago. Now they met again to await this great event.

“Seems we never meet unless it is around something very important,” he said. “Crispin, you seem to attract such events!”

“I’d say rather that I am attracted
to
such events!”

Gabriel smiled. “And you, Michael,” he continued. “So serious on such an occasion?”

“Michael is sensing the enemy nearby,” said Crispin playfully.

Michael was looking up toward the heavens through the sea of angels. “Actually, I’m sensing something quite different,” he said.

Suddenly all of the angels fell silent—as if they all now sensed something happening in the heavenlies. Michael looked at Gabriel and Crispin. “It begins,” he said quietly.