Realm of the Dead (14 page)

*   *   *

"Can you find a way to get back to Turiel and Eskalion?" Jerahmeel said, walking behind Iblis as they headed into the gloom. 

Iblis replied in irritation. "We've gone over this before.  I have no idea where the monster has taken them or if they are even alive.  They could be anywhere within the creature."  Then his lips curled into a smile, and he laughed.

Jerahmeel stared at him. Looking at him nervously. "What strikes you as funny?"

"I was just thinking of the irony of being digested eternally.  To never truly be released to die." Iblis shook his head as he fathomed the concept.  "I wonder what the sensation must be like...to eternally experience the ever-space between life and death in a creature that will not let you slip into eternal sleep?"

Iblis went silent for a moment and stopped walking. His knees buckled and while in a half-standing, half-kneeling position, he burst into sobbing.

Jerahmeel lifted him up from off his feet.  "Are you daft?  There will be time later for weeping.  Would you draw undue attention to us?"

Yet Iblis would not be consoled, and shoved Jerahmeel's hand away from his arm, looked at him with a wet smile and then laughed like a maniac.

"We are both dead...we are the living dead, you and I.  For look about you.  We walk in the very shadow of Death.  And where I take you...there is nothing but death that awaits us.  We are doomed, I say. Doomed."

Jerahmeel grabbed Iblis by the face and held it firm. "Look at me!" he said.  He held his face firm in his palms as he looked into the fallen angel's eyes. Eyes that were glazed, and the prince of all Harrada could see that behind them, the Withering was at work...a slow consuming, burrowing worm of madness that was feasting on the angel's mind.  Gnawing away at reason.  Jerahmeel released him, and Iblis murmured to himself in unintelligible gibberish. Jerahmeel looked about and realized that with every step they descended deeper into Hell. That the malady would soon overtake both of them.

"Iblis?"

"Doomed. We are doomed, I say. The Father is lost, all is lost.  Darkness, wailing and gnashing of teeth..."Iblis paced about the dim chamber, muttering to himself, lost in interrogative questions.

"Iblis!" Jerahmeel said, raising his voice to get his attention, but to no avail.

Jerahmeel looked at where they were.  There was no discernible exit. Nothing but the distant sounds of moans and the reek of charred flesh.  And in that moment, he remembered Talus and knew that somewhere within the creature, his brother was surrounded by this infernal prison meant for Lucifer and his kind.  He looked turned back to looking at Iblis.

Focus him on the task before us. Or his words will be prophetic. Jerahmeel thought to himself. He then spoke to comfort his guide.

"Iblis...thou hast asked to be restored to Heaven.  If in good faith lead me to the Hellforge, there might yet be pardon for thee.  As long as ye draw breath, there is hope. Do not despair, but if we die here, there is nothing but eternal torment, so keep to the task at hand.  If the creature intimidates you, then linger here no longer than necessary."

Iblis stopped pacing and looked at Jerahmeel.  His eyes had lost more of their color, and the luster that emanated from all Elohim was dimming.  

"You are...correct.  I fear the hand of Lucifer.  I should have never left Heaven. Never raised arms against the Father.  And now look at me. What lot possibly remains to me? Even now I sense the Withering eating away at my mind and darkening my stone.  It clouds my mind and judgment it is an oncoming fog where I am lost without a beacon to steer me home.  I feel it, and it will not be long before the Withering has me.  Oh, how foolish it was to think that I could ever come home. We are not Clayborn." He sighed.

"I envy them you know? For they are malleable.  Made from the dust of the Earth.  Not the stone of the Kiln.  We cannot be changed.  I see that now.  For I now see what the Father had never designed me to see, and it is a dark thing, my prince.  A dark thing, indeed to stare into this depressive inevitability.  To know that there remains nothing available to rescue; that no balm exists, nor cure forthcoming to save.  You were indeed wise to be wary of me, Harrada, but fear not.  While sanity yet remains, I will with my last breath take thee to the place of promise, the place we have both journeyed to see. I will take you to the Hellforge."

Jerahmeel found himself caught between two opinions...torn over feelings of compassion, sorrow, and the justifiable sense that Iblis was deservedly reaping what he, had sown. Who now was experiencing the outcome of his decision.  Yet he understood the heart of the Father.  Understood, that El took no pleasure in the death of the wicked.  But that they would turn from their ways and live.  But, alas, that opportunity was for humans, for in his heart, Jerahmeel knew Iblis was right.  There was no turning back once his kind had made the decision to leave.  No returning to the Father. Nothing but eternal banishment from the presence of God.  And when Jerahmeel saw how downcast Iblis was, his resolution to still maintain some semblance of who he once was, Jerahmeel's heart softened and he spoke.

"I thank you, Iblis.  Thank you for helping me."

Iblis gave a begrudging smile, nodded, then turned to a wall that barred their path. He breathed onto the walls of flesh and hair follicle-like strands sprung up from the obstruction.  Both Iblis and Jerahmeel jumped back and watched as the wall gave way to a chamber.  Noxious fumes opened into the area, and heat belched out, making the existing chamber even hotter. The moans and wails became louder and the two looked at one another to find courage.

"The Hellforge is easy to find, my prince," Iblis said, "for it rests at the heart of the digestive system of the creature.  If we but give the creature sign of our presence, she of her own accord will direct us toward her belly.  Come, and we shall see what the end will be."

Iblis then stepped into the blistering heat and looked back. Jerahmeel swallowed the lump in his throat, sighed and followed him.

*   *   *

"RUN!" Gabriel cried.

Enoch sprinted toward a lake of brimstone and fire.  All of his senses told him that what he saw was impossible, but Heaven contained mysteries and phenomena that he had come to expect, but the Zoa that had ambushed Hadriel now turned its attention to them.

Metatron and Gabriel turned to fight, swords drawn. The Zoa hissed, sizing up the two angels.  The animal unwound eight tentacles, and two bat-like wings unfurled from atop its back. It pushed itself upon four tentacles and raised itself high, spreading its wings as a cobra's hood and roaring in defiance as spittle and pieces of Hadriel fell from its mouth.

"This is going to hurt," Metatron said.

"Just disable its ability to fly," Gabriel replied.

"What about you?"

Gabriel eyed the Zoa which crouched and slowly began to move forward. Gabriel waved to Metatron to move away.  "Spread out," he said.

The Zoa turned its head toward Gabriel, roared and charged the angel, its tentacles pounding the earth as it ran.

Gabriel sprinted toward the giant, his sword raised and, his wings swept back. He became a blur, and before he was seen again, Metatron saw the Zoa stumble and sidestep backward as a dismembered tentacle whizzed past him. 

Metatron launched himself into the air, and from his new-found aerial view, he saw flashes of Gabriel accosting the tentacled giant from all directions.  Blurs and shadows of his brother he could but see as blood from slashed tentacles misted into the air from what could only be the swift, unseen blade of Gabriel's attack.

Metatron landed atop the back of the Zoa and plunged his blade deep into the hide of its flesh.  The giant howled, and a tentacle swooshed overhead as Metatron, unable to maintain his grip, fell from the hulking creature.

The Zoa turned on its back, and suddenly Metatron came face to face with the mouth that just devoured his friend.  The jaws opened, and a beak protruded from within, jetting out to grasp him.

Metatron held the animal's jaws open and dodged the spittle and foul stench of undigested flesh that wafted over him. His muscles strained and feet slid back as the strength of the creature matched his own. The head of house Draco then opened the pores of his flesh and belted out a funnel of sound that shattered the creature's teeth. It recoiled in pain, shrieking, as Gabriel continued his assault, slicing and lacerating. The animal.

Tentacles waved through the air and the thunderous roars of a Zoa enraged echoed across the fiery plane.  Enoch watched from a safe haven behind a large outcrop of rocks. He knew enough from his training that though he possessed powers, there was a time to let angels do the job that they were infinitely more capable of...such as battle. He watched from a distance as Metatron managed to get atop the creature and with his sword and slashed into the animal's wings.

Enoch pumped his fist as he saw a severed tentacle of the creature fly apart from its body and the mighty beast tumbled to the earth.  The result of the battle prowess and motion-blur that could only be Gabriel.

Enoch smiled. , as he watched them do battle from afar.  Their tandem work cowered the beast as they attempted to drive the monstrosity back from whence it came. Enoch stepped back for a better view and turned to climb over a boulder when he saw a man with six wings surrounded by blue flame. He towered twenty cubits tall and stood with a white sword drawn. Startled, Enoch fell back onto his hind.

"Thou art trespassing on the grounds of Aesir, and will surrender to examination by authority of the King."

Enoch stared at the celestial man, never having seen a Seraph other than those that guarded the entry to the Temple of God.  Enoch raised his hands in surrender and replied, "I pose you no threat and my compatriots and I seek out thy King, for we are sent on behalf of God, and I seek one who resides in thy company.  A man such as myself by the name of Elijah."

The flaming man seemed surprised and picked up Enoch, pointing his sword at him.  "Thy friends have been dealt with even as we speak."

Enoch turned to face Metatron and Gabriel and saw that the Zoa lay face down. A Seraph stood atop it with a spear that had penetrated its skull, and ten seraphim had surrounded the duo. Each angel was shackled in chains and was being led away. Enoch crossed his wrists and raised them above his head in surrender. His captor bound him, and the two joined the others. When Gabriel saw Enoch, he nodded in greeting. The Seraph shoved him and Metatron and the three friends exchanged words.

"I am relieved that thou art safe.  Are you injured?"

"I am well," Enoch said.  "But where are they taking us?"

"SILENCE!" roared a Seraph. 

Immediately Enoch and the two angels cried out in pain and covered their ears, for the shout was excruciatingly loud; and when Enoch pulled his hands away from his ears, his palms were slightly bloodied. 

Metatron and Gabriel also had a small trail of blood that streamed from their ears, and Metatron scowled in disapproval, but he did not provoke the Seraph to further anger. He shook his head at Enoch in mute warning to keep silent.

Enoch was, however, angered, and would not remain quiet. "I am the candlestick of the Lord God, and I sit before His presence. I am Enoch, the Translated of the Lord.  Is this how thou wouldst handle one who has braved the dangers of Limbus under the command of the Lord to reach thee?"

The captain of the guard stopped, and when he did, all stopped.  He turned to look at Enoch and walked slowly toward him, studying him, and eying his person as he spoke.

"You art human, and not Elohim. Our treaty does not extend to thee.  The King will decide what shall be done with thee.  But thou wilt not be harmed until you art in his presence.  We know who you are, Enoch.  And it is because of this that the Lumazi Gabriel hast not been destroyed.  Fear not, for the King, will surely want to hear thy words."

Enoch harrumphed. "And then?"

The captain smiled at him and said, "Then we shall know if there will be war and if you all shall die."

*   *   *

Mary poured out spikenard over the feet of Yeshua and wiped them with her hair. All of the disciples were taken aback by her actions but Judas, Judas spoke aloud his disgust of the act.

"Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence and given to the poor?"

"Let her alone," said the Lord. "Against the day of my burying hath she kept this. For the poor always ye have with you, but me ye have not always."

Judas lowered his eyes and ruminated to himself. Such a waste. A year's wages poured into the dust, and then to be rebuked by the Rabbi before all.

Judas wrestled with himself, his thoughts like crashing waves pounding rocks.  His will vacillated and tossed on the eddies of suggestions and possibilities while his mind fed upon choices that fueled his primary desire for profit. 

Lucifer amplified every negative thought and accentuated every rationale that ran counter to Yeshua's teaching. A chorus of enticements played in his mind to justify a decision he knew Judas had nestled deep within his heart. A submerged course of action, Lucifer need only nudge the greedy Human's thinking to bring it to pass, and thus the King of Lies spoke in righteous indignation to this open and willing ear.

What decent person would allow such extravagance to be poured on His feet? With all the need here? Not to speak of the regions roundabout. Is this what we should expect of a King who serves the people?  What loss to thyself, for such an item would have fetched a month's wages after deposit into the purse, and none would have been the wiser. The agitated Judas excused himself in a flurry and stomped off, his mind fuming over an opportunity lost and increasingly open to suggestions from the Enemy.

You do know that He hast never allowed you to be a part of His inner circle," the sympathetic voice whispered to his mind. A whisper that sounded so much like his own voice.

I am Judean, Judas thought, and have these simple Galileans been given charge over our temporal affairs? No! Do these unlearned fishermen understand or have letters of learning on matters of finance?  No! Yet they sit at the Rabbi's inner circle while I sit on its fringe. How can a man who controls the purse not be a part of a leader's inner circle? 

The Voice breathed into his hearing.

Yeshua is a great teacher, but surely He will get us all killed by the Romans. 

Judas nodded to himself as he walked to the market.

Exactly! If He has no interest in overthrowing Rome, then what good is He?  What good doth healing, teaching, and even casting out of devils do if we are crushed underfoot by Roman occupation?  He will bring such attention to us as to compel Rome to strike us down with the sword.  What have I gotten myself into?  For three years I have sojourned with this group.  For three years I have toiled, receiving the hospitality of others.  To rejoice in the gain available in this age, and for what?  A poor, wandering gypsy of a madman, who adds no value to my position? I cannot let this happen.

Lucifer edged his thoughts more toward his own designs.

Perhaps He could be compelled to bring the Kingdom of God in by force? 

Judas's eyes lit up at the thought.

What a clever idea! What if He were confronted by the powers of this world? Then He would be compelled to show the might of God, and usher in the Kingdom now and Rome would fall!

"That's good!  That's very good," Judas murmured softly to himself.

The voice continued to feed his mind.

If Yeshua were killed, the people would rise up in wrath at His martyrdom, and end the stench of Rome from off of us. Hmmm, there could indeed be profit in this. Judas mused. If He lives and ushers in the Kingdom, then I will be at His side and my position will be assured in this new government, but if the people rise up against Rome because Rome has killed one of its own.

"Hey, watch yourself!" a man said.

Judas frowned as he bumped into a person. "Watch yourself!" he said.

Is the thing possible? Yes. We could shake the dust of Rome off our feet!

Judas arrived at a fish vendor, pulled the purse of the group from under his shawl, gathered his selections and paid the merchant.  He scowled as he looked at the Roman inscription on the drachma and the merchant noted his visible disdain.

"One day brother...we shall be free of Roman rule.  One day, one of us will have the power to see it come to an end."

Judas smiled, and replied back, "One day soon my brother," Judas said. "One day soon."  Iscariot then turned to rejoin the disciples.

Lucifer smiled as he watched the human return to the Son of God, knowing that very soon...he would be ripe for possession.