Rise of the Fallen (6 page)

Michael had not fallen, and he looked as mighty as Lucifer ever had. In his hand was something Validus had never seen before, yet he knew its name. Sword.

Michael lifted his gaze from the trio to the gathering thousands in the Court of Presentation. He flew high enough for all to see.

“Elohim is on the throne, and His judgment against Lucifer is sure.” He pointed his sword at the darkened figure in the distance. “No longer will we
call him Lucifer. His name is Apollyon, for he has become a destroyer of all that is good, a leader of the Fallen.”

It was a day of great sorrow and a day of infamy. It was the day sin was born, heaven wept, and a third of the servants of Elohim turned to darkness.

It was also the day that turned the friend of Validus into an enemy.

4
 

Present Day

Validus, Am, and Brit entered the outskirts of Colorado Springs a few minutes later. Inside Living Waters Fellowship Church, Validus turned to his warriors.

“Well done,” he said, then nodded to dismiss them.

When he entered the large conference room near the sanctuary, Hulan was waiting for him.

“Commander, we’ve just received new orders from headquarters.” Hulan handed the rolled parchment to his superior.

Validus broke the seal and quickly read the orders. Confusion swept across his mind as he ran a hand through his jet-black hair. He read the orders once more and then struggled to hide his surprise and frustration from his executive officer.

“When did these orders come in?”

“Just a few minutes ago. I sent a dispatch to you immediately,” Hulan replied.

Validus thought for a moment. “Report to Malak in sector six. Tell him I’ve gone to see Brandt at World Headquarters. He’s in charge until I return.”

Hulan stared at his commander in silence.

“Move it, Hulan! I need to leave immediately, and I want Malak on board.”

“Yes sir!” Hulan snapped about and promptly exited the room.

Validus stared after him, but he was not thinking of Hulan anymore. He was forming tactful words of protest to speak to General Brandt. He needed to make the trip quickly because there was too much happening in the eastern
sector to be gone for more than an hour or two. New York City was a constant battle zone, but recent attacks on certain churches and church leaders there told Validus that the Enemy was planning something big, and probably soon.

Validus waited for Hulan to finish his task, but with each passing moment he felt the frustration mounting. Surely these orders must be a mistake … but Brandt didn’t make mistakes, at least not any that Validus could remember.

He rose up from his desk. It had been a long time since he had morphed his wings. In battle it was foolish, but it was necessary to get to World Headquarters. He concentrated and felt the push against his back. Two ivory-colored wings grew upward and outward until they stretched to fill the room.

He faced east and accelerated through the walls and corridors of the church, hardly feeling the resistance of the brick and mortar as he passed through them. Outside, he launched himself upward, and his wings stroked the air in powerful bursts. He arced north around Bemus’s stronghold in upper New York and then exploded to full speed, skimming the edges of the cityscape until he was well over the Atlantic. He adjusted his course to a line that would bring him just south of Glasgow, Scotland, and in just a few minutes he was approaching the coastline of the United Kingdom.

He slowed his approach as he neared the city, watching for any activity that might indicate he should take a different approach than usual. He landed just shy of Kempsthorn Road and demorphed his wings into his back. As he approached the abandoned Crookston Castle, two guards saluted and halted him.

“I’m here to see General Brandt,” Validus told them.

“He’s in the war room,” replied one of the guards.

Validus nodded, then quickly proceeded through the corridors of the castle and down one of the stone stairways. He slipped through a door and into a large chamber that caused his mind to sweep through a hundred memories of the medieval days.

Brandt was discussing tactics with another warrior angel. Validus approached them.

“General Brandt, I’ve just received orders. There must be some mistake.” Validus stood with his shoulders square as he addressed the single highest
angelic authority on earth. Already he regretted his words, for he realized how foolish they sounded. Validus cringed inwardly, being once more reminded why he was never chosen as a messenger.

Brandt slowly looked up from the map he was studying and stared sternly at one of his best commanders. Validus considered trying to recover his words but decided to let them stand.

Brandt motioned for his executive to leave and waited until the officer’s form disappeared through the heavy stone wall.

“What are you doing here, Validus?” Brandt asked, his countenance easing slightly.

Validus slipped through the crack in professional airs between ancient combatant comrades. He stepped forward and flipped the orders onto the desk before Brandt.

“Why, Brandt? This makes no sense.”

Brandt looked away from Validus’s hard stare.

“You’ve assigned me to be”—Validus struggled to even say it—“an
assistant
to a guardian?” He leaned over and put both massive hands on the desk. “What is going on?”

Brandt looked back at Validus quite fiercely. “The Guardian Order is an esteemed order. There is no calling higher than the protection of a believer or a child.”

“Of course, but I’m to be an assistant? That’s not even full guardian status. Even if I were assigned as a guardian, you and I both know that I am not guardian material.”

Brandt rubbed a powerful hand across the back of his neck. “Assigning you as an assistant was the only leeway I was given from the messenger. If I had assigned you to the Guardian Order, you could never come back under my command, Validus.” He let that sink in for a moment. “You would never be a warrior again. Is that what you want?”

Validus had no reply. He stared at his commander for a moment, then straightened and walked away from the desk. He paused and then turned back to Brandt. “Did the messenger say why?”

“No, and I didn’t ask,” Brandt replied. “I don’t like it either. This assignment will weaken our forces in America significantly. I have no one who can
command our northern continental forces like you.” Brandt sighed. “But we both know there is a reason.”

“How long ago did the messenger leave?” Validus asked, allowing his frustration to seep through in his tone.

“Just a few moments ago.”

Validus nodded as his wings morphed once more into full spread. He readied to launch up through the ceiling after the signature silver streak of a messenger returning to heaven.

“What are you doing?” Brandt stood and glared at his subordinate, stepping back behind the curtain of professional military formalities.

“I intend to catch up with the messenger and get an explanation.”

“Are you trying to offend me on purpose?” Brandt’s sharp reply put Validus on his heels.

“No sir,” Validus replied respectfully, yet he remained determined.

“You would never catch him anyway,” Brandt said.

“Today I will,” Validus said flatly.

“No, you won’t, and if you did, I don’t think he would take kindly to your questions.”

Validus cocked his head. Messengers were held in the highest regard, for they carried the commands of Michael and, at times, the very words of Elohim.

Brandt walked around his desk and came to stand eye to eye with Validus. He crossed his arms. “It was Gabriel.”

Validus’s expression went blank. “Gabriel?” he said quietly.

Validus could remember only three other times when Gabriel himself had delivered a message to the Warrior Order and only four times to men. Something significant was happening.

Brandt returned to his desk. He resumed his perusal of the map. “Malak will assume command of the forces in America. You will find your charge and his guardian in Rivercrest, Kansas. The man’s name is Drew Carter.”

Validus was still stunned by what was happening. “Drew Carter … Kansas,” he said numbly, slowly resigning himself to his new duty. He shook his head as if awakening from slumber. “General Brandt, Malak is not ready for such a command.”

Brandt frowned. “Get him ready. He’s the best we’ve got right now. You know what we are facing here.”

“What am I supposed to do? With Carter, that is?”

Brandt looked up and clenched his jaw. His frustration was beginning to show. “He’s not a believer. Keep him alive … no matter the cost.” His eyelids closed to slits. “Do you understand?”

Validus nodded, saluted, and walked to the door.

“Validus,” Brandt called.

Validus turned.

“Tren is an experienced guardian. He’s in charge. You assist
him.”

Brandt didn’t wait for a reply. He looked back at his map. “Sutton,” he called, and his executive officer stepped through the wall.

Dismissed, Validus walked through the door, then launched upward and west, toward the Atlantic. His speed was slower than before. He needed time to think.

As a second-generation warrior, he had walked the earth as a protector of man since the Great Deluge. For nearly five thousand years he had watched humans perfect the art of war, and he had learned from them. At first the warrior angels were hesitant to embrace the ingenious tactics of assault, but the Fallen’s relentless pursuit of utter destruction forced the warriors of Elohim to adapt or be dissolved.

Validus became a student of war, its weapons, and its tactics. With the rise of new empires came new weapons and new methods of war. Validus mastered them, for he knew that the success of the Plan depended on it. The first generation of warriors had failed because they were slow to adapt, and when they finally did, it was too late. The evil of humanity, through the influence of the Fallen, had become too great to overcome.

Through the ages, Validus was perpetually surprised by the creativity and proclivity of humans to advance their own devices of destruction. As knowledge increased, so did the skill of man’s ability to make war. Hand-to-hand combat techniques evolved through the centuries to a masterful and almost artistic perfection, and Validus learned them all.

Across the millennia, Validus had witnessed the miracles of Elohim, the destruction of entire cities, the preservation of the righteous, the propagation of evil, and a thousand wars between the races of men. He had risen from the least
through the ranks of warrior angels until he’d been given command of the North American continent, and now with the stroke of a pen he had been demoted to a guardian assistant.

Had he done something wrong?

Or was it that this one man, this Drew Carter, would play a significant role in the future of humanity?

5
 

2468 BC

Validus stood on the shore of the great sea in heaven, wrestling with his thoughts once again. There was so much he didn’t understand … Some of it he didn’t
want
to understand.

Humanity regarded Adam and Eve’s first sin as the Fall, but from the perspective of Validus and the other angels, the Fall happened that fateful day when
Apollyon, in incomprehensible pride, lifted his fist to Elohim and said, “I will rise above You!”
Validus had never been tempted to follow the great Deceiver, and that was what confused him. How could so many perfect angels have fallen and embraced the rebellion of Apollyon? Validus could not escape the endless puzzle of it all—the pain, suffering, strife, death, and severed friendships … even severed brothers.
Why, Niturni … why did you fall?

Validus let the calm of the sea massage his mind. The distant chime of the ringing cliffs sang to him in resonant tones of varying pitch, beckoning him to peaceful thoughts. He filled his lungs with the fresh and fragrant air of the sea, allowing his mind to calm and settle. His disturbing thoughts diminished and eventually disappeared.