War of Wings Read online

  © 2014 McElroy

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  War of Wings

  Brown Books Publishing Group

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  Dallas, Texas 75248

  www.BrownBooks.com

  (972) 381-0009

  A New Era in Publishing™

  ISBN 978-1-61254-169-3

  LCCN 2014930385

  Printed in the United States

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  www.WarOfWings.com

  For my angel, Isabella

  Never give up on fairy tales.

  I love you.

  Gabriel swung the hammer with more force than needed, and sparks flew on impact as the beam slammed into place on the joist. He hit it again for no apparent reason while around him rang out the rhythmic sounds of striking tools and cheerful singing. When construction of the community building for the Ludus Paradisus was finished, its glistening rooms and classical façade would be pristine, lovely, even spotless. Perfection. Just like everything else.

  Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, and then he struck the beam again, knocking it the tiniest bit off its mark. One miniscule imperfection in this flawless structure. No one would possibly notice. He smiled, suddenly more engaged with the project, and found himself actually on the verge of whistling.

  “You’re a little off.”

  He turned and saw a brown-haired virtue angel watching with arms lightly crossed and head canted. A silver necklace with the word Humilitas gleamed on her pale throat. She looked more perfect than the building they were raising.

  “I didn’t think anyone would notice,” Gabriel said.

  She patted his arm, and were it not for the quirk at the corner of her mouth, she would have seemed completely sincere. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it in a couple hundred more years.”

  Gabriel watched her walk away, arms swinging loosely and a swivel to her hips like a church bell ringing. He dropped his massive hammer and the handle just missed Raphael’s foot as he approached, his white overseer’s robe brushing the floor.

  “Were you just talking to Arrayah?”

  “I’m not sure.” Gabriel shook his head and started walking in the other direction.

  “Why was a virtue angel talking to you?”

  “Good question.”

  Raphael picked up Gabriel’s hammer and followed him behind the lines of whistling workers. They were perfectly content and ordered, none missing a beat, and always just ahead of schedule.

  “The ceremony tomorrow has been moved up two hours. How is your team’s production today?”

  “They’ll get it done. They always do,” replied Gabriel.

  He kept walking and snatched a brown satchel from a bronze table with tools all over it.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To have some fun,” said Gabriel.

  “What about your construction team?”

  “They’re all yours.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel noticed Michael heading his way. Great. What had he done now?

  “Gabriel,” Michael said, waving a hand as he approached.

  “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

  Gabriel turned, leaped, and with three swift down-drafts of his wings was aloft and soaring over the construction site. He began to pass the training facility adjacent to it. No sooner had Michael flown up after him than Gabriel tucked in his wings and plummeted down to land with one knee landing in the soft earth of the practice field.

  “Can you not sit still for five minutes?” Michael called out, landing gracefully beside him.

  “Welcome to the practice field, Michael,” Gabriel said. “It was pretty clear at the last games that you didn’t know where it is.”

  “Why practice when I have no competition?”

  Gabriel clutched at his chest and staggered back. Michael, stone-faced, reached down to brush a spot of dirt from his polished boot. Did the archangel never smile?

  “I have to tell you something,” Michael said.

  “That you have the sense of humor of a wet phoenix?” Gabriel took two strides into the shadow created by the overhang of the training facility’s closest wing. He came back with a bow and quiver in one hand and a bag of ripe fruit in the other.

  “Something important,” Michael said.

  Gabriel stepped to a wood-and-metal structure at the edge of the field that had a scoop drawn back by ropes and pulleys. It was a small trebuchet, and he dropped two red fruits into the bowl-shaped end of its launching arm.

  “Everything is always important,” Gabriel said. “Which is another way of saying that nothing ever is.” He kicked a lever, and the trebuchet catapulted the fruit so high into the air that even his powerful eyes nearly lost sight of it. He notched an arrow and drew the string on the twelve-foot bow to full tension, his fingertips just brushing his cheek. With a soft twang and a rush of air, the arrow launched into the sky. At the moment of its highest arc, it struck the first fruit with such force that it exploded into a red mist. His motions almost too fast to track, Gabriel drew and fired another arrow, and the second fruit—still a good forty yards off the ground—was obliterated into pulp as well.

  “It has to be a mistake.” Michael had that tone of voice he used when he seemed to have forgotten Gabriel was in the room. “There’s no way you’re ready for this.”

  Gabriel rounded, gripping his bow. “What did you say?”

  “If my vision had been about shooting fruit and playing games,” Michael said, turning away, “you’d be the one to tell.”

  “Wait.” Gabriel grabbed Michael’s arm, which gave about as much as the iron hammer had. “Just wait.”

  “Something’s coming, Gabriel. I saw it.” Michael shook him off. “And you had better figure out what’s important to you.”

  Michael bolted off toward a towering mountain that jutted above the range surrounding it. Gabriel, squinting at the bright light pouring from its peak, felt a headache coming on. A massive city had been built just shy of the summit, a sprawling metropolis so big that he felt tired just looking at it. The wall that formed the city’s foundation had twelve layers made up of jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald, and he had forgotten what else, though he knew them by heart once. All rare and precious, of course. Michael doubtless knew them all. Even at this distance, Gabriel tracked Michael until he landed heavily near the city’s gated entrance and soon disappeared from view.

  So dramatic.

  Gabriel pulled an orange from his target bag and started to pace. There was no getting around it. Michael would only act offended until Gabriel apologized and he would have to listen to whatever it was anyway. Best to get it over with. He tore after Michael on the Great Mountain.

  As the ground dropped away, Gabriel cast his gaze forward again. He neared the mountain rapidly. From his elevation, he could soon see much of the inner city. The city itself was pure gold—its streets, walls, bridges—but the gold resembled transparent glass. It was a little brighter than he’d remembered. Twelve massive solid-white pearl gates surrounded the city, forming three walls. The gates were supported by pearl columns positioned directly next to each other, keeping hidden everything within the gates. All the pearl reflected light in so many vivid colors that it looked like an aurora. Taking in their splendor was almost a physical burden on Gabriel’s eyes. He typically stayed on the outskirts and forgot the magnifice
nce of the city. With a nod to the dominion guarding the gate, he rushed through and began scanning for Michael.

  He soon caught a glimpse of Michael’s broad back. It was clearly him; Gabriel recognized the same perfect posture he was accustomed to joking about. Who walked that way?

  “Michael!”

  Michael continued on, jumping over a body of crystal-clear water. It was the water of life. This gently flowing body of water wound through the soil as if the land had eagerly opened itself up for the water’s pristine touch. Gabriel kicked a little dirt into it. Michael continued to ignore him. Although there was no sun, the water was never dark because it led straight up to the majestic throne that contained the source of the glorious light. The river ran from the throne’s residence at the top of the mountain down to its lower slopes, from both sides on the northeast and southwest through the upper tiers and homes of the angels. The trees that grew on its banks bore twelve different fruits each, which had the most perfect shapes and the purest colors. Gabriel snagged a couple of oranges off the branches. The air smelled of fresh flowers and citrus.

  “Michael, wait!” He still didn’t stop. Gabriel launched an orange right between Michael’s wings, where it struck and bounced back. Michael finally turned around with a sigh. Gabriel approached, peeling his other orange. The skin of the ten-inch fruit parted easily, in one piece.

  Gabriel took a juice-filled bite and smiled at Michael as it dripped onto the Alexandrite stone around his neck and trickled into the golden words engraved in his armor. Each of the archangels wore one of these stones around his neck, but their armor inscriptions were unique. “Have you had one of these lately?”

  “No, brother, I haven’t.”

  Michael’s face was much more serious than Gabriel expected. Something really was wrong. “What was all that about back there?”

  Michael seemed to search for the right wording and, not finding it, looked away.

  “Is this about the games? I know you’re worried about me in the air-and-ground arms spar, but you’ll make it up in the agility and concentration events.”

  “This isn’t about the games. Do you ever listen? When are you going to get out of your own little world and join the rest of us in the realities of Heaven?”

  Gabriel felt the juicy pulp slide down his forearm. “I’m not like you, Michael. We don’t all know exactly what we are supposed to be.”

  “You are an archangel just like me, Gabriel!”

  “I’m not just like you. I’m not perfect. Read your armor, Michael.” Gabriel pointed at the words Dux Bellorum engraved in Michael’s armored chest plate. “You are the war leader, not me. Did you ever think some of us are still trying to figure things out?”

  “Well, we don’t have the luxury of time anymore. The life and order of the angels are about to change.”

  Gabriel’s juicy smile slowly faded. “What does that even mean? Am I going to become one of the seraphim?”

  “I am not joking, Gabriel.” Michael’s brow furrowed in concern. “God has shown me an unspeakable event. I don’t know how it will come to be, but the end result will be unfathomable.”

  Gabriel looked around the busy city. There seemed to be more angels walking around than he remembered, and there were so many more pristine structures. Stressful. “What end result?”

  “I don’t even have the words to describe it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Michael.”

  “God told me that I will soon lead the angels in this time of change.”

  Gabriel took a deep breath. “So why are you telling me if you can’t even describe what it is?”

  “Because He also spoke of you.”

  Gabriel straightened up his posture like Michael’s. His wings felt heavy. “He did? What did He say?”

  “That you will play an even bigger role than I in this time of need.”

  “What?” Gabriel felt deflated. Surely Michael must have misheard.

  “He said that you will protect over half of the angels of Heaven.”

  From high on a carved-stone stage glittering with brilliant encrusted diamonds, Lucifer stared out at the millions of angels who called Heaven home. He rested on a stone mezzanine with a short waterfall cascading down its middle to a moat that surrounded the entire stage. Here in the Hanging Gardens they were just east of the source of heavenly light, the throne of God. He could barely hear the waterfall over the roars of the crowd.

  On the opposite side of the stage was Delia, the virtue angel of chastity. He smiled at her as he began to pick a riff repeatedly on the twenty-four-stringed handmade instrument he had fashioned specifically for this closing ceremony. She returned the gesture with longing in her eyes. Her teeth were so white. He was the games’ featured performer, and the angels’ cheers below vibrated the stage under his feet. He breathed in the admiration and felt even more alive than he had at the previous year’s performance. He knew he needed to humble himself.

  The band started up behind him. It featured two of the six-winged seraphim, another cherubim like Lucifer in golden armor, another virtue like Delia in a long green gown, and two thrones in decadent robes. The audience was like a pot of water before boiling. Lucifer let it build slowly for what seemed like hours, knowing full well how to cause a hallucinatory euphoria in the crowd. They swayed in unison to the beat in a trance-like state. No angel was immune.

  Here we go, he thought. He threw his instrument around his back as he sat down to his signature pipe key, and the angels exploded in cheers and applause once again. After a few minutes of intense rhythms, he cooed his first melodic praises for God. The next six hours of performing were a blur.

  When the band played their last note to a stunned audience, Lucifer stood and spread his triumphant wings to their full extent. They cast much of the glistening stage into shadow. The crowd snapped out of its collective trance, and smiles claimed their awe-inspired faces. Heaven shook from the roar that ensued, and a tingle went down his spine followed by a flush of heat. He felt truly alive. Yet a moment later the warmth turned chill, like a splash in a cold sea. The adoration he felt became hollow.

  This praise was not for him.

  Lucifer ripped his wings back in tight and turned toward the blinding light of the throne of God. “Praise Him for all His glory!” He reached his hands out with a wistful expression. “One of these years maybe He will join us down here as we sing His praises.” He walked off the stage past Delia, who smiled as she waved to the crowd. The masses began to leave the Hanging Gardens in a common flow, heading toward the Great Mountain just as Lucifer was.

  An escort of seraphim surrounded him as he flew over the gardens and up the twelve jeweled layers that made up the mountain’s base. The millions of angels in their nine separate orders followed in structured fashion based on rank.

  “What did you think, Terra?”

  The stunning blonde seraphim next to him smiled from ear to ear. Her eyes were greener than the grass of the Provender.

  “You were wonderful, Lucifer. I am so proud of you, and so is our Father, I am sure.”

  He had better be. God would finally promote Lucifer to His level after a performance like that, he was certain. Lucifer would have a throne next to Him now. His hair straightened and filled in, turning from light brown to ash blonde. His eyes deepened from an orange amber to a transparent blue and his skin softened its hue.

  “I love it when you do that,” said Thyaterra.

  “When I do what?”

  A gruff voice said, “Your face just changed again.” It was Bretabian, a tall seraphim who followed awkwardly close behind Thyaterra.

  “I wasn’t speaking to you,” Lucifer snapped. His hair curled slightly in back.

  Bretabian uncovered two wings from his face, revealing a blinding light, while his other four continued flapping. “I apologize.”

  Lucifer could handle God’s glory, unlike other angels. He was close enough to God to have become as accustomed to His light as the
seraphim. He ignored Bretabian and faced Thyaterra. “Thank you, Terra. I can never feel it when I change, but I am very happy right now to be with you.”

  Lucifer and his escorts tucked their wings in and landed smoothly. With Lucifer in the lead, they walked past the dominion Barterus at the entrance to the heavenly city. Barterus tipped his ornate helmet, which covered part of his face, and bowed to Lucifer. Dominions were very serious creatures. They guarded each of the pearl gate entrances and were in charge of enforcing the laws of the angels. Their wing feathers were fuller and fluffier than those of other angels, and they were typically the smallest angels in stature. Lucifer towered at least ten feet over Barterus as he passed. However, dominions were some of Heaven’s fiercest fighters and were the last of the orders to give ground in an argument.

  Barterus gripped a large golden sword with a spherical ball of light on the pommel. “It’s an honor to see you, highest of the cherubim. What a fine show.” He opened the gate for Lucifer.

  “Thank you, kind angel.” The other dominion raced over to sing his praises as well.

  Lucifer walked forward about a hundred yards and stepped onto a golden ramp that was transparent down to the bottom. It stretched up and over the many houses of the heavenly city. Beginning the journey up, Lucifer looked down through the ramp all the way to the center of the Great Mountain, where the twelve jeweled layers were exposed down to its heart. Beautiful yet hollow, he thought.

  The ramp was long and there were three others just like it starting from the center gates of the four walls of the city. They were held up by golden bricks, which were supported by massive arches and pillars. Some of the heavenly housing was actually situated underneath the arches and between the pillars. This pattern continued up the entire mountain.

  A comfortable silence overtook the group. Lucifer felt the euphoria gradually slip in and he knew the throne of God was getting closer. After their long ascension to the top of the ramp, the passage turned right over an ornate bridge with carvings of six-winged seraphim touching hands across it. Their hands made beams, and the entire masterpiece was made out of solid marble. The statues were ten times the size of Lucifer or any other angel. He always felt small beneath them.