Messiah: The First Judgement (Chronicles of Brothers) (14 page)

Finally He stopped, gasping for breath, having reached the summit of the eastern slope, the soft breezes ruffling His long, dark curls, His bare feet sinking into the thyme and mountain flowers beneath Him. Staring.

Staring at the Great Battlefield of Israel ... Esdraelon, the Valley of Jezreel. Armageddon.

Far away in the distance, across the fertile valley, stood two imperial figures: Michael and Gabriel.

‘He sees the future,’ Gabriel whispered. ‘The final war...’

‘Armageddon.’

Jesus stared at the great plains before Him, now filled with a vast multitude, every nation represented in the violent, bloody panaroma before them: Chinese, Arab, European, American, African, Australian soldiers, their bloodthirsty cries of battle mingling with agonized screams of the dying. The Prince of Peace watched, pale and silent, as the Son of Perdition and the great kings of the earth gathered with their armies, a great and terrible multitude two hundred million strong ... waiting...

Huge hailstones fell from the skies onto the terrorized militia. The colossal teutonic plates of the earth shifted and the mountains shuddered as their foundations collapsed, levelling them – the Alps, Himalayas, Andes, all melting like wax. A thousand great and terrible whirlwinds rose from the south, merging with the colossal frenzied eyes of force five hurricanes, raging from the East and West Coasts of North America. Monsoons seethed from the Far East. Tsunamis erupted from ferocious seas, and now the moon turned to blood in the sky.

And then, as He viewed the 200 million man army before him, He saw men’s flesh literally rotting away as they stood, soldiers’ eyes disintegrating in their sockets, their tongues melting in their mouths as the valley of Jezreel became like a winepress, blood rising up to the horses’ bridles.

Jesus bowed His head.

Instantly the horrific scene before them vanished, and Michael and Gabriel were gone.

Jesus held His head in His hands, breathing rapidly in shallow gasps, then lifted His face and gazed once more at the now tranquil, fertile emerald plains of the valley.

‘In the latter time He has made it glorious, by the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations,’ He whispered. ‘The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light...’

He stared up at the cloudless blue skies, at the lines of pink-backed pelicans and yellow-billed storks as they fluttered overhead, winging their way to the Lake of Galilee.

A strange aroma of frankincense filled the air. Jesus turned.

There, just paces away from Him on the eastern summit, stood Lucifer, studying the eight-year-old boy ... his adversary.

‘Why are you on my planet, Nazarene?’ His voice was soft but his blazing blue eyes were filled with loathing. He moved closer to Jesus. ‘What is it You want?’ His voice was low, mesmerizing. He circled the boy.

‘When the seal of the seventh stone is lifted, You shall know my vengeance.’ A slight smile played on Lucifer’s lips. ‘You shall indeed suffer, Nazarene – away from Him.’ Then he was gone.

Nothing stirred, just the soft gusts of mountain air that blew Jesus’ locks, and the faint aroma of frankincense that still lingered on the breeze.

Chapter Thirteen

The Gathering

Twenty-two Years Later

Jether stood on the high place of the Tower of Winds, the retreat of the ancient ones and Yehovah’s trusted elders, who formed the high council of heaven. His fuchsia ceremonial robes blew in the blue angelic tempests. His crowned head was bowed, and his lips moved fervently in supplication.

Michael and Gabriel strode through the lush gardens towards him, followed just paces behind by Obadiah, Tirzah, and seven other younglings, who carried piles of tomes and piled them on the large, circular golden table surrounded by twelve jacinth thrones.

‘His request for access has been granted?’ Gabriel laid his sword down against the battlements.

Jether nodded. ‘The codices of the White Judgement require the presence of Lucifer to witness the reading of the tenets pertaining to Jesus of Nazareth. Yehovah has granted Lucifer entrance to the First Heaven for this gathering. Eternal Law cannot be revoked.’

Jether moved to the golden table, where the angelic zephyrs of wisdom and revelation raged in eternal cyclones, then sat down heavily on one of the jacinth thrones. The zephyrs immediately subsided to a gentle breeze. ‘The conditions set by the codices of the White Judgement affect Christos’ time span on earth. They must be witnessed by all angelic parties, ourselves and our fallen compatriots alike...’

Jether broke off in mid sentence, his gaze suddenly locked on to a silver speck flying over the rainbows that arched majestically over the Seas of Zamar.

Gabriel moved to the battlements and stared out over the pearl sands. ‘It is his chariot.’

Jether nodded somberly, his eyes never once straying from the silver speck.

Michael frowned. ‘Surely he has not been granted access to the entire planet of the First Heaven?’

Jether shook his head. ‘No. He is confined to the Tower of Winds during his stay, but nonetheless we must prepare our minds...’ He turned to fix his gaze on Michael and Gabriel. ‘...and our souls. He is on holy ground here. He will appear in his former state. Remember, he suffers no ill effects from Yehovah’s presence here when he has been summoned by Yehovah Himself to fulfil Eternal Law.’

Jether stared at the brothers grimly. ‘This day, he will be as breathtaking as when he was prince regent, his throne second only to Yehovah’s. His soul, too, will seem to take on his previous beauty. Never forget, my princes, it is merely a mask, no more than a shortlived façade. His sorceries are deep-rooted.’

Far in the distance, the thundering grew louder as Lucifer’s magnificent chariot became visible through the rainbow’s aurora, riding on the shafts of lightning, pulled by eight of his finest winged stallions, their glistening white manes interwoven with platinum.

The chariot landed on the grand lawns of the high place of the Tower of Winds, its huge platinum wheels ploughing through the manicured lawns, churning up deep, unsightly furrows in the turf. Instantly the grass grew back, covering the enormous chariot tracks.

Lucifer alighted from the chariot. He knelt next to one of the enormous wheels, his eyes ablaze with wonder as he caressed the lush new blades of grass with his long fingers. He shook his head in fascination, seemingly mesmerized by the swelling, budding blades.

Michael stood, his arms folded, watching Lucifer intently.

‘Heaven!’ Lucifer declared. ‘No decomposition ... no decay...’ He rose to his full nine feet. ‘No death!’ He swung around giving Michael the full intensity of his gaze. ‘Why, Michael, what wonders I have missed in my own atrophied planet!’ He smiled his old magnificent smile.

Michael studied him, against his own better judgement. At their last meeting Lucifer’s features had been gnarled and scarred, but today, as in times of old, he was perfect in his beauty: the wide forehead and straight patrician nose, the wide-set, haunting azure eyes and passionate, full mouth. He was as splendid as before his banishment. Imperial. His presence compelling. Michael lowered his eyes from his brother’s gaze. For he well knew that Lucifer read his soul.

‘Why, Michael, it is all as it used to be!’ Lucifer smiled. A soft, indulgent smile. ‘Nothing has changed.’

‘
Everything
has changed, Lucifer,’ Michael retorted.

Lucifer threw back his head and laughed loudly. His laughter rang through the gardens as he walked towards Michael.

‘No, Michael,
nothing
has changed, for you are still solemn.’ He clasped Michael in a warm embrace, kissing him on both cheeks. Michael stood coldly, then stepped back.

‘And Gabriel...’ Lucifer studied his youngest brother, then walked over to the sapphire fountains, the water cascading down as glistening blue mercury. He held out a goblet to catch the elixir. ‘Ah,’ he sipped delicately. ‘Frankincense and whitecurrant!’ He turned to Gabriel and smiled his old magnificent smile.

‘You are still vexed with me?’ Gabriel lowered his eyes from Lucifer’s magnetic gaze. ‘You know my thoughts, Lucifer. They do not change, no matter what guise you choose to take today. Your outward beauty does not reach to your soul.’

Lucifer winced mockingly. ‘Ah, too much time with Michael has made
you
solemn, too.’ He plucked a silvered sweetmeat from the great, spreading tree hung with thousands of white blossoms and delicacies, and popped it in his mouth, savouring it. ‘Strawberry and persimmon.’ He closed his eyes in rapture. ‘With a hint of curds!’

Lucifer breathed in the invigorating aromas of the myrrh and frangipani that swirled in the gusts over his head. ‘Jether the Just...’ he murmured. For a split second, his eyes hardened. ‘My old mentor, who taught me all I know of Yehovah and His mysteries...’ Jether glimpsed the fleeting venom behind his dazzling smile, but then the venom was gone.

‘I brought an old friend, so you could reflect together on aeons past.’

Lucifer gestured in the direction of a white albatross who perched on Lucifer’s chariot. ‘Your bosom companion, one who used to occupy these very thrones.’

The albatross transformed into a tall, thin figure with white hair who walked towards them. Jether stepped back. Appalled. Charsoc stood, tall and regal, in the splendour he once possessed in his former state as ancient imperial monarch. His hair was now as white as Jether’s own; his white beard swept the floor, and his once blind eyes were now the same pale grey-blue as Jether’s – and seeing.

Michael grasped Jether’s arm to strengthen him.

‘You have no place with us here.’ Jether stood between Charsoc and the golden table. ‘You forfeited your place at this table in worlds long departed.’ His eyes blazed with indignation.

Lucifer grasped Jether’s shoulder; Jether flinched.

‘Oh, but you see, venerated Jether, He
shall
be at this table.’ Lucifer’s fingers dug into Jether’s shoulder. ‘He is to be my witness. It is the prerequisite of Eternal Law. Today I discover why Christos trespasses on my planet!’

Jether, his face turned to stone, took his throne; Michael took the right-hand throne, Gabriel the left. Lucifer sat on the throne opposite Jether, with Charsoc at his right. Lamaliel entered the garden, followed by Methuselah and Zebulon, Issachar, Maheel and Jehosaphat.

All took their places at the table, as a panting Xacheriel, still with his violet laboratory galoshes, followed at the rear. He sat down heavily on the only remaining throne next to Charsoc. In front of him lay a lone crown. Jether nodded and gestured to Xacheriel’s head. Xacheriel scowled, then grudgingly removing his orange sou’wester and replaced it with the jacinth crown. He folded the sou’wester carefully in half, then placed it in front of him.

Charsoc scrutinized the sou’wester distastefully, then carefully opened an enormous crimson carpet bag with its mother-of-pearl handles.

‘You brought your knitting?’ Xacheriel gave Charsoc the full force of his darkest glare from under his knitted eyebrows. ‘Or do you return the sixth stone which you
stole
from us?’ he snapped. Jether shook his head darkly in Xacheriel’s direction.

Charsoc smiled languidly, then removed a small gold container which he placed on the table. He opened the lid, dipping his long fingers in the clear liquid, then ran them deftly through his hair and beard, inhaling deeply in ecstacy.

Xacheriel sniffed loudly in Charsoc’s direction. ‘Mandragora...,’ he muttered testily, glaring at Charsoc, wiping his suddenly streaming red eyes. He sneezed deafeningly into his handkerchief, then leaned over and snapped Charsoc’s container shut heavily.

‘We address pressing matters.’ Jether’s tone was brisk. ‘Time is misspent on coiffures, Charsoc.’

Charsoc turned his gaze to Xacheriel, slowly and deliberately scrutinizing the High elder. His gaze moved from Xacheriel’s curd-stained apron, past his blueberry splattered beard to his uncombed, knotted, wiry silver hair visible under his crown.

‘I think not.’ He gave Xacheriel a purposeful, slow, patronising smile, then pulled on a pair of soft white goatskin gloves and sat, his hands entwined.

Xacheriel spluttered, infuriated.

‘Compatriots ... compatriots.’ Jether raised his hands. ‘Restraint,
please
.’ He rose, clearing his throat.

‘I bid you welcome, Chief Prince Michael, commander-in-chief of the armies of the First Heaven, Chief Prince Gabriel, Lord chief justice of the angelic revelators. Lucifer, ruler of the Race of Men, Earth, and the nether regions, king of Perdition. Charsoc, chief magus and apostle of the fallen. My esteemed Elders of Yehovah’s High Council.’

Lucifer stood. ‘First, I must be assured...’ He walked slowly around the table, stopping directly behind Gabriel. ‘My claim stands in the Courts of Eternal Law, does it not, Gabriel?’ He laid his hand heavily on Gabriel’s shoulder.

Gabriel sighed. ‘Your claim against the Race of Men was received and recorded in the courts of heaven. Judgement was duly passed against the Race of Men.’