Angels of War Battle of Archangels (Book 3) (Angels of War Trilogy) Page 24

  “No reason to explain, general.” Maria stared at the map and the lines and pictures. “I don’t understand this.”

  Tobias leaned over the map. He trailed a finger along a blue line and stopped. “We are here,” he said. “The forge is here. So the attack should come from this direction and the mountains are against our backs.”

  Isaiah smiled. “Yes, yes.” His eyes shone again with a light filled with both joy and slight insanity. The angels assumed the dig took away and added something to him.

  Tobias bit his bottom lip. “Maria, we can train them enough before the fight.”

  Maria looked at the other officers around the table. “Put the warriors in formation.”

  The officers left the tent, their urgent voices echoing over the dig site. Outside the volunteers rushed towards the muster field like starved children headed for bread. Dust kicked up into the air in billowing clouds.

  Tobias grinned. “Maria, this is crazy,” he said and lowered his voice. “These people are going to be slaughtered.”

  “Well, Tobias how do we keep them from getting slaughtered?”

  “We’ll assign the Guardians to take charge of each company.” He turned to Isaiah who seemed absorbed in the map. “Does that idea sit well with you, general?”

  Isaiah stretched and nodded. “Whatever you two do is okay with me, Tobias.”

  Tobias rubbed his big hands together. “General, I need your sergeant if you don’t mind.”

  “Take her.”

  Tobias patted Maria on the shoulder and headed out the tent. He spoke a few words with the sergeant and she vanished into the dust and bodies. “Give me a few minutes, Maria.”

  “Given, Tobias,” she said and returned to her work.

  Tobias walked through the crowds. A feverish excitement filled the soldiers. He decided not to call them volunteers anymore. God ordered General Gold to start the dig, otherwise no one would have ever found King David’s forge. The crucibles still burned with molten metal, the metal workers continued to hammer the steel into weapons and armor.

  “Sergeant Boka,” Tobias said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t call me sir, sergeant. How do I control this crowd?”

  Sergeant Boka climbed up on a platform and the crowd fell silent. “Tobias, come up.”

  Tobias joined Boka. He stared at the throng eager to fight. “Colonels and captains,” he said. “Organize your companies.”

  The officers organized the crowd into blocks. They complied without problems. Tobias shivered and realized an unseen hand moved throughout the masses. Within minutes ten blocks formed in the pit, with one hundred soldiers in each.

  “Guardians step forward to hand out the armor and weapons.”

  The Guardians went to the piles and waited for the next orders.

  “First company advance to receive your armor, shields and weapons.” He waited as the company marched forward and formed a line. Each person picked up their armor and went to the next mound piled with shields, followed by the swords.

  Tobias and Sergeant Boka continued to manage the organized movements of the companies. Within two hours the entire army stood equipped and ready.

  Tobias slapped Sergeant Boka on the shoulder. “Good job, sergeant,” he said with a big smile. “Now, what is next?”

  “They need a crash course in swordsmanship, Tobias.” Boka said.

  Tobias studied their faces. The word eager came to mind. “Warriors of the first company, move to the field for training.”

  The first company moved with speed and grace and climbed the several ladders leading to the surface. Their voices remained calm, no one shouted. With shields slung on their backs, the warriors formed up outside the pit.

  Tobias rested his hand on his sword hilt. To his right Maria emerged from the tent accompanied by General Gold and several officers. She held a rolled parchment in one hand. “How goes the battle planning, Maria?”

  “Everything is good, Tobias. Are the troops organized?”

  “All suited up thanks to Sergeant Boka.” He pointed at the sergeant. “Now, to give them a quick lesson in sword fighting.”

  “That shouldn’t be hard. I’ll meet you at the top.” Maria turned and headed for the ladders with General Gold next to her.

  Tobias and Boka climbed down from the platform and worked their way up a ladder to join the warriors on the field for training. The Guardians, two each, stood before a company. The other Guardians mounted their warhorses and fanned out into the desert as scouts. Dust powdered up from their warhorse’s hooves as they disappeared into the beige desert bleakness.

  The Marine inspected the warriors dressed in armor. Sheathed swords hung at their sides, shields held in hands with smooth helmets on their heads. All the companies wore basic gear, no one, not even the officers stood out from the crowd. Everyone differentiated the Guardians with their silver armor decorated in elaborate designs.

  Tobias met Maria before the formation. Their backs stood against the forge with the dark mountains rising behind them. “I sent a few Guardians to scout.”

  Maria’s helmet appeared in her hand and she slipped it on and drew her sword. “Well, let’s use the remaining time to train them.”

  “Fast,” Tobias said and drew his blade from the scabbard. “…because I think our time is almost up.”

  60

  Daisy Lane found their arguments wasteful. Satan’s army stood before the gates ready to attack the Eternal Kingdom. The archangel Michael and Gabriel stood in the large forum surrounded by Seraphim in the hundreds along with a few Virtues. To her, their elitist world edged closer to doom. Outside their precious walls sat a darkness their combined powers could never defeat. God needed to abdicate.

  God and Jesus remained in the throne room, closed off from the angry voices echoing off marble walls and a jade floor. Slanted light poured into the forum from windows to spin off gold and silver armor. Soon, she expected the beauty to be stained with blood.

  Daisy took the chance earlier and sent Satan a mental message. Quick and undetected, she hoped. Now she sat in a marble seat decorated with white cushions. Cherubim rushed back and forth with silver trays covered in food and drinks. She swiped up a cup filled with wine and stared at the archangels below. Several others sat in attendance, but not as famous as the two who bickered before a gold table.

  She sipped the excellent wine and closed her eyes. Seraphim leaned forward in their seats, voicing concerns about the souls being evacuated to far-flung places within the kingdom.

  Daisy stood from her cushioned seat and lifted her hands. “Why not ask God to reform Hell into a better place? Restore the demon’s beauty.”

  The forum, packed with thousands, fell silent.

  “Who said that?” Gabriel’s strong voice echoed off white walls carved from marble and ivory.

  Daisy swallowed, her throat threatened to close off and she forced herself to remain calm. “I did.”

  “Satan’s old lover,” he said. “God created Hell for their punishment, a place I believe you should have gone also.”

  Daisy flinched from Gabriel’s harsh words. Anger burned through, fueling her tongue to speak. “God forgave my sin, Gabriel. I only ask fair questions to avoid further war.”

  “You talk to me about war,” Gabriel gave Michael a quick glance and returned his stare to Daisy. “You are the newest Seraph here in this forum. What knowledge do you bring besides the knowledge of betrayal?”

  Daisy frowned. “Betrayal, Gabriel. Joan’s appearance into the kingdom created the problem, God’s slaughter of millions. Some of you in this very forum fathered and mothered offspring upon earth who died within the floods. Do not tell me about betrayal when God went back on his word and saved Joan. Despite Michael’s actions.”

  Voices murmured, a few agreed with Daisy. Gabriel turned his head left and right, and behind him as the Seraphim argued amongst themselves, their tones still respectful.

  “What say you, Gabriel?” Dais
y remained on her sandaled feet, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the archangel. “Should the question be posed upon God? We only ask for a fair answer. This place expands into infinite.”

  “Who is we?” Gabriel brought his voice up a notch higher.

  “Those who are too afraid to speak what’s on their minds.”

  “Heaven is not a democracy, Daisy.”

  “Then why the forum, Gabriel? Should we stand around like sheep waiting for the butcher to cut us down, our eyes full of nothing?”

  “God demands we stand and fight the tyrant who readies the Hell Force at our gates.”

  “Against God’s gates. He plays this game with no show of emotion. Black and white he offers us.”

  Gabriel pointed a finger at Daisy Lane. “You go too far, Daisy Lane.”

  Daisy turned and walked out the forum. Eyes fell upon her, some nodded, and a few shook their heads in disagreement. She hoped to split the senior Seraphim and Virtues enough to rattle them. She strode out onto a white balcony bright enough to hurt her eyes.

  Before her sat the kingdom in all its glory, a view she hated without the one she loved by her side. She drained the wine from the cup. Guardian angels continued to evacuate the souls to the kingdom’s far-flung regions, jungles, forests, mountains, and grassy plains.

  Her thoughts roiled with plans so dark she refused to conjure them from the place she hid them. Lest God peeked inside her heart and discovered the thoughts she birthed, and blotted her from existence. She leaned against the gold rail stretched along the balcony’s expanse. The stubbornness the so-called enlightened beings displayed hurt her.

  Daisy tossed the empty cup over the balcony. Lucifer’s army waited for the orders to attack. She wanted him to start now. Her six wings spread from her back and she took flight from the balcony and headed towards First Gate, and to place doubt into the mind she hated most.

  61

  Patricia held her rifle steady. Once the elevator doors opened, the fighters stepped out into a hall cast in shadows and flashing red lights. A thin smoky haze filled the entire area from tear gas thrown into the vents.

  She turned left out the elevator door and continued down the hall with the team behind her. Their footfalls fell silent against the floor. The gas mask she wore restricted her peripheral vision, forcing her to shift her head left and right. Ahead sat a T section. Amber lights flickered against the once white walls now gray from smoke.

  Patricia moved fast up the hallway. She refused to allow fear to shake her nerves like a vicious mongrel. At each breath she urged herself on, wondering how the others faired in Texas and in Heaven. A hand pressed her shoulder and she stopped. Two fighters slipped by her, weapons pointed as they entered the hall and halted.

  Li passed Patricia and stood between the two fighters. “Check this out, Patricia.”

  Patricia stepped towards him and into the hall. Bodies jammed the floor all the way to where the hall ended. Stubby sticks protruded from their chests. She approached a body and knelt. She reached out and jerked the blade from the dead soldier’s chest.

  In her hand she held a black dagger. Above its blade sat a dragon’s head handle etched with triple sixes and a red pentagram. Her heart thumped hard in her chest despite the efforts she made to keep steady. Sweat speckled her forehead and the hallway seemed to stretch out a mile.

  Li took the dagger from her hand and tossed the weapon to the floor. “Patricia, we must keep going.”

  Patricia pushed up to her feet and moved ahead. She forced her head to stay steady. The team took tentative steps over the bodies encase a few played possum. An ambush in the hall would ruin their day.

  She wanted out the hall but forced herself to stay calm. The bodies on the floor, stiff and twisted, unnerved her. She continued to remind herself to stay strong, take one step and move on. Don’t fall into tunnel vision. The plastic face shield on her mask started to fog up and her eyes became teary.

  Li grabbed her arm and urged her on. “Pretend you are flying a Blackhawk. That is far scarier than this.”

  Patricia filled her lungs with stale air. Her head cleared and she worked her way up the hall. The team pushed forward, blood covered the floor in pools. Bullet holes trailed along the walls. More lights flickered, this time in a bigger room.

  The command center.

  Patricia lifted her right hand into a fist, the team stopped. Bodies hung by the neck from metal pipes and walkway rails, all Black Army soldiers. Two in particular, dressed in black robes like Benedictine monks, hung from an overhead railing. “They killed themselves.”

  Li gazed at the massive room jammed with computer workstations. White noise hissed from speakers embedded in the walls. “Why would they do that?”

  “They believe their deaths will grant them power if Satan prevails over Heaven,” Patricia said.

  Li shivered. “That’s crazy, Patricia.”

  “These are the monsters we have been fighting, Li. Even the ones we captured are still dangerous.” She wanted Armand Demhurst alive. Her fingers curled tighter around the rifle as the team spread themselves out.

  Patricia licked her lips and tried to figure out where Armand hid. “Be careful people,” she said and glanced up at the presidential office. She stared through the glass window and thought a shadow flickered by. “I’m going up alone, Li. Keep this place secure.”

  “Yes, Patricia.”

  Patricia moved to the elevator and poked the up button. The steel doors swept open and she entered the box. She said a silent prayer as the elevator lifted to the suite.

  The elevator doors opened. Patricia stepped into the office to face a man dressed in a black suit on his knees near the desk. She removed her mask, lifted her rifle, and aimed the dark muzzle at his head.

  “Armand Demhurst.”

  Armand rose, a black book held in one hand, a long sword in the other. “Patricia Jones.”

  “Drop your weapon, Armand. You can live through this.”

  Armand laughed and shook the black bible at her. “I will live through this. But I’m not sure about you, Patricia. So kneel and convert to Satanism.”

  Patricia glanced at the sword held in Armand’s hand. “I used to buy your lotions and soaps. I never knew you worshiped Satan.”

  “Why? All my products are stamped with the three beakers and circle.”

  Patricia nodded. “Yes, they are.”

  “People need to study those little symbols more carefully.”

  “Missing the details will kill you.”

  Armand nodded and lifted the sword. “Drop you weapon, Patricia.”

  Patricia smirked. “Not that easy, Armand. I’m not here to discuss with you anything else except your surrender.”

  “My army covers this entire globe. I am the Black Pope, Emperor of earth, all-powerful. So kneel.”

  “David is dead, Armand. You guys are on the losing end. The world is coming together to fight against you.”

  Armand turned and jammed the sword blade into the desk behind him. “I’m not dying by your hands.”

  Patricia frowned at the dragon’s head hilt on the sword. Her finger slipped over the rifle trigger. “You’re an asshole.”

  Armand ripped open his suit jacket to reveal a vest lined with grenades. He tossed a grenade pin towards Patricia. “You’ll discover the truth through death, Patricia. Now embrace your trip to Hell with a glad heart.”

  Patricia spun and hit the elevator button. The door slid open. She threw her body inside as the explosive vest detonated. Shrapnel and the concussive blast blew out the glass windows to the office. Superheated metal ripped into the elevator, peppering the walls before the steel door closed.

  Patricia thoughts whirled back to the time she played on the Santa Cruz beach as a little girl. Her college days at Stanford flashed by, blackness crowded in on her along with red pain, voices echoed in her ears along with a noise louder than a jet engine’s roar. Warmth washed over her as if she dove into the waters off the Hawaiian
coast. The warmth, followed by a white light, surrounded her. Her last thoughts found the light glorious.

  62

  Joan returned to the walkway above First Gate. She climbed into the murder hole for a better view. Behind her, guardian angels hustled several million souls away from the city. Angels armed with spears, shields, and swords formed into glittery block formations on the muster field behind the walls. Her family crossed her mind. They must have been amongst the evacuees.

  The archangel fluffed her wings. In the distance a cheer rose up from the Hell Force. Mounted soldiers numbered in the thousands rode out from Satan’s tent. Black pennants lifted into the air on poles, horns blew out a dreadful noise. What arrogance, she thought as Satan’s cavalry formed up on a hill above the Hell force.

  Joan drew Michael’s sword. She checked behind her. Neither Michael nor Gabriel roamed the walls or stood near First Gate. Her heart thrummed in her chest, a cool breeze brushed her face, her white horsehair plume danced.

  “Be my sword and shield,” she said to the air. Her mind worked back to what Jesus told her. She closed her eyes and focused on the world around her. The souls being hustled from the city voiced prayers. The wind carried to her nostrils the Hell Force stench. Somewhere birds twittered. William’s voice reached her ears. She picked out his worried words from amongst the evacuated masses.

  Joan opened her brown eyes and turned her gaze upon the palace. Light reflected off its pearl walls and enormous staircase, the gold trimmed windows shimmered. A figure draped in the purest white moved upon a balcony. He fixed His eyes on her.

  “Angels,” Joan said. Her voice cracked the tense air. “We will not wait here behind these walls like cowards and children.” She lifted her sword into the air above her head. “Since they journeyed so far for war, war is what we shall give them.”