Angel Prophecies : Chapter 3

< Chapter 3 : The Saints come marching >

Saint Christopher took the Southern route, through the valley of shadows, where even the Angels feared to tread. But this was the road of Saints, and he had gone by it many times. Trees rose on either side; their branches were bent and drooping. All of their regality was gone. Now their leaves were withered and brown.

Even the flower beds that had once been so well manicured were over run with weeds. He stepped off of the path and pulled handfuls of dark red vines out by the root. He looked around searching for the bright flowers he had planted long ago, but the weeds had grown up and killed all of them.

"Gardens must be tended." He thought.

But there were too many weeds and not enough time to do it now. The children would be coming soon, and Christopher wanted to be there to greet them. Ever since his earthly demise, Christopher had come down to serve the children. Now he wished he had taken the Southern path more often; he never would have let it get overgrown like this.

But over the years he had given in to letting Angels fly him from Heaven down to the middle world. It was an easier journey on the back of an Angel, but he should have known that everything had a price.

"The paths we choose decide the fate of more than ourselves; they change the world." Christopher thought. That was what Jesus had taught him long ago. He remembered the path he had taken on earth, before he had met Christ.

He had been born large and very strong. By adulthood he was so big and powerful that no man or warrior dared to fight him. In time people grew afraid; they refused to speak to him, and after a while even his family would not visit him. So one dark, starless night Christopher decided to leave, and all the next day he walked through the deserts of Israel where he came across Satan coiled around a mountain of rock.

"I too am isolated by my power and glory, but together we can be brothers. Together we can become greater than we are alone." Satan had said.

That was why Christopher became a servant of Satan, for he no longer wanted to be alone; he wanted to be greater than he was, and so for many years he assisted Satan in everyway. He killed and plundered. He converted souls by the thousands. In time he thought that there was nothing he and Satan could not do, but one day he came across a small priest who would not convert.

'Why do you not fear me?' Christopher said.

'The Son of God is my shepherd; no man can harm me.' The priest said.

Christopher laughed. 'Then you will fear my master, for he is far more than just a man.'

Christopher carried that priest down into the shadows and placed him at the foot of Satan in the cave known as Aboddon. He waited for the priest to cower and weep, but he never did. Rather Satan stepped back in fear.

'Why have you brought this priest to my house? Do you not see that he is loved by Christ, Son of God?'

'What does that matter? Kill him if he will not worship you, or let me do it, for he does not fear us as he should.' Christopher said.

'No, you must take him back untouched and unharmed. We should not stir the hornets' nest just yet. We must wait until we are stronger.' Satan said.

That was when Christopher knew that Satan was afraid of Christ, so he took the priest back out again, into the light of the world just as Satan had said.

'Why does Satan fear you, and you do not fear him?' Christopher asked.

'Because I follow in the steps of Jesus Christ, and if Satan touches me then he touches the Son of God, for Jesus gave his life to save mankind. Satan may be the king of this world, but my master is the king of kings. His power is only limited by the breadth of his glory, and his glory has no end.'

'Then your master is greater than mine, for the Devil is afraid of you.'

With that, Christopher removed the dark cloak he had worn in the service of Satan, and he donned a linen robe that the priest gave him. The priest took off the wooden cross around his neck and gave it to Christopher.

'How can I serve this king of kings? I am strong, and all men fear me; I can conquer and kill, and so perhaps I should be placed in his army so that Jesus may rule the world with my might." Christopher said.

"Strength comes from sacrifice, and power comes from serving. Your penchant for war can not serve my king. Rather you must find peace; you must help men, not harm them."

The priest led Christopher down through the woods of Judea, along the banks of a raging river.

"Do you see those men, there in the woods?"

The priest pointed to a rabble of thieves and murders who sat upon stolen horses waiting for pilgrims.

"Every Christian that journeys to Jerusalem, must come through these woods for the river is too deep and swift for men to ford across. So those thieves wait for them, and because of them fewer pilgrims make it to Jerusalem every year." The priest said.

"Then I will kill the thieves where they stand."

Christopher rose and began to march forward, but the priest grabbed him by the hand, holding him back.

"No, if you spill the blood of man, you spill the blood of God. You must help without harming, so I want to ford and ferry men across the river. For you are large and strong enough to resist the current."

Christopher stayed his anger and turned back towards the river. For years he served travelers. Men and women crawled upon his back, and he walked them across the river so that they might avoid the woods where thieves and murders roamed.

One day, after many years, a small boy came walking down the path alone.

"Where are you going, child?" Christopher said.

"I have come to make the pilgrimage. Will you take me across the river?"

Christopher bowed down to his knee without hesitation. The boy was small and light, so the deed was no trouble at all. But when Christopher hefted the child on his back and walked halfway across the river, though he was but a tiny boy, his weight was nearly without limit. When they got to the other side, Christopher set upon the bank and asked:

"How is it that you are so heavy when grown men are so light?"

"And the child looked at him with wide, blue eyes and said.

"For I am Christ. All the sins of men are my burden."

With that Christopher bowed his head and wept at his master's feet.

"From now on you shall be called Christopher, bearer of Christ." Jesus said.

That was so long ago, Christopher thought. He had learned so much since then, and yet he still made mistakes. Now the Southern path was overgrown because he had taken the easy way, upon the backs of Angels.

"Forgive me Lord." Saint Christopher said, crossing himself, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. He walked down through the weeds and foliage until he came to the ocean. There the Ship of Life sat rising in the tide. He waded into the water to wait for the children.

Unlike Lucifer, Michael and his Angels had gone by a different path that cut along the shore of the island. The trail was lit with torches held by Angels who kissed each child upon the forehead as they went by.

At the front was Rafiel, Michael's most trusted and loyal warrior Angel. Christopher had never seen Rafiel before, and he was something to behold. He had red hair and eyes of fire. His entire body was clad in armor; the names of battles decorated every inch, and swords and weapons protruded from his back like the feathers of a peacock.

"Who are you?" Rafiel said.

"Do you not recognize me? I have come to take the children across to the Ship of Life. I have come many times; all the Angels in Heaven know of me." Christopher said.

"I do not, and Michael has ordered me to clear this path for our new born souls. Stand aside."

"I come in peace; you will have no trouble from me. I am here to serve and nothing more."

"Then stand aside and serve in silence." With that Rafiel brandished a dagger of fire, and the flames danced in his eyes.

Christopher saw that amongst the battles written on Rafiel's armor, there was one penned in light. It read:

Tell Megiddo.



"What does it mean?" Christopher said.

"Do you not know of the prophecy?" Rafiel held the dagger up to the emblem of light. "These words are Hebrew for the Mount of Megiddo. The Arabs knew it by the name Tell es-Mutesellim. It is a hill made of twenty six layers of ancient cities piled upon each other like corpses. There have been many battles fought there. Men from nearly every nation of faith have lost their lives upon that hill, and their blood has mixed in the soil and hallowed the very ground upon which the armies of the future will fight." Rafiel said, marching forward, straight at Christopher.

"But why is that name written in fire and all the other names are but cold steel?"

"Because Megiddo will be the place of Armageddon. There the armies of God will fight against the armies of darkness. John prophesied of that war in Revelation. Upon the sediment of civilization, just above the Valley Jezreal, on that fated hill, the End of Times will begin. When the battle is over, my armor will have no more illuminated names left upon it. For that will be the final battle."

"Now stand aside." Rafiel said.

"I have only served two masters in all my life. One was Satan, and the other Lord of Lords, Jesus Christ. You do not look to be either. I will wait for the children."

"So be it then."

Rafiel rushed in to attack, but Christopher did not wait. He came out of the water, and for the first time Rafiel saw just how large Christopher was. For a second Rafiel hesitated.

"I am stronger than any man you have fought. Do not take this path; it will not lead to victory." Christopher said.

But Rafiel attacked regardless. The two of them wrestled, one large and one small. Both holy, but only one divine. The more they struggled, the more Rafiel new he could not overpower this man. So he slipped a second dagger from its sheath and stuck it into Christopher's side, between the ribs on his left. Pain shot up the Saint's side and filled his widened eyes; he picked Rafiel up. The Angel reached down and grabbed the wooden crucifix from around Christopher's neck. Then the Saint cast Rafiel far out into the deep sea. Christopher stood on the beach and laughed. Mercy and forgiveness was the way of God, he thought, but sometimes one had to protect oneself.

Rafiel saw the Saint laughing on the beach, and his face flushed with anger. But slowly a grin crept up his cheeks, and he held the wooden Crucifix up to be seen. Christopher grabbed at his neck, but it was gone. The Angel had it now.

"Give it back to me."

"Come and get it."

"If I come out there, we will war." And Christopher knew it was wrong to fight, salvation came from sacrifice, and he had given up everything to follow Christ. But that crucifix was a prescious memory; it was the only thing that he had ever kept.

When Rafiel did not throw it back, Christopher waded into the deep. He did what the priest had told him not to do. There man and Angel fought amidst waves of brine. Their blows joined the sky to the sea as froth, and whales, fish and every sort of finned creature was cast onto the shore in their fury.

The children came out along the path and witnessed the fight from the shore. Michael followed after them.

"Stop, what you are doing." Michael said.

Rafiel unfurled his wings and turned each feather into an inferno. His sword was raised, and anger filled his mind. Christopher abandoned peace, and they fought for a single, unholy purpose: destruction.

"Satan has sent this man to block our path." Rafiel said.

"That is no demon." Michael said.

But Rafiel did not hear his general; he only remembered the order Michael had given earlier. Rafiel would have sooner died than fail Michael, so he fought on. There was no stopping their colossal strengths. Soon the fight became so strong and furious that waves began to list the Ship of Life onto its side.

Michael had no choice but to unfurl his great wings and dive between the two. He placed his hand upon Christopher's head, and his foot at Rafiel's chest. He pushed them away and then parted the sea with his sword of fire. Steam rose up above and became dark clouds in the sky.

Still the two fought on. Together their strength was more than Michael could separate.

"Stop this fight." Michael screamed.

But anger held one to the other, and they heard nothing but the furious thumping of their own hearts. Michael looked back towards shore to see if any other Angels were there, but only a few of the children had come out. There were no Guardian Angels to be seen, but when he looked to the side, there sitting atop a tree's root was a Watcher.

"Come here and help me." Michael said.

But the Watcher pretended not to hear.

"Help me divide these two." He screamed.

Again the Watcher refused the plea. It was then that Michael recognized which Watcher was ignoring him. It just any Angel, but rather Semyaza the lord of all the Watchers.

That was enough. Michael's anger reached a fever pitch, and he slung his sword down through the salty sea. The whole of it began to boil until fish, whales and sharks floated belly up. Michael became more terrible as his anger built; there was no longer peace within him, only war and destruction.

He rose up out of the sea and rushed towards Semyaza. He forgot Rafiel and the Saint. Now his anger was stoked, so Michael snatched Semyaza up like an eagle does a snake. With all of his strength Michael tried to wrench that Watcher in two.

Rafiel and Christopher saw what Michael was doing. He had become a terrible creature bent on destruction. It was this vision that made them see the error of their ways. They saw how anger had blinded them, so Rafiel bowed his head and handed the crucifix over. Together they stopped their fight and rushed towards the shore.

"Let him go. He fights on our side." Rafiel said.

"He fights on no side but his own." Michael said smashing the Watcher against the ground and trees.

"Please let me go. I have done nothing wrong." Semyaza pleaded.

"What are you doing here?" Michael said, and he pulled that Angel in close so that their lips nearly met.

"Father sent me to help you destroy Lucifer."

"You, help? I would not trust you to guard even a single child much more charge you with securing the Devils demise. You fight for nothing but yourself; why would God send you?"

"I begged him to let me come."

"So now you are willing to put your life on the line?" Michael raised his right brow. "Then why did you not help me just now? You heard me yell for you."

"I did not hear you."

"You lie. You have always lied. Your cowardice holds you back from war and pushes you into deceit. If you wanted to help me defeat Lucifer, then you could have come down in the field when I fought him. As you well know, every day that we wait, Lucifer grows stronger. Tonight Lucifer was but a single Angel. He was weak being so far from his kingdom, but now he is joined by another."

"Gabriel will not join him." Semyaza said.

"He already has, and though God gave Gabriel that horn to announce the Apocalypse, it only called for mercy. My army stood perched in Heaven ready to destroy Lucifer in that field, but I did not see you. Here Rafiel fought and I called for you, but you sat idly by."

"You are a traitor, Semyaza, and your name has lost all the power that it once had. Long ago it meant Heaven seizer for you ruled over seventeen sons of Heaven, but now your name has less value than even one of the characters from which it is made. If you want to stand amongst my ranks, then stay in front of me, for I do not trust you. I do not want your blade at my back."

"I am loyal to you."

Michael tore a clump of hair from that Angel's head, and he beat him with it until Rafiel separated them.

"Are you loyal to me as you were with your own kind? I remember when you abandoned all the Watchers on earth. You left them to be punished by God. You do not deserve your name, nor your tongue, and most certainly not your freedom." Michael charged forward one more time, reaching out, trying to grab hold of Semyaza's tongue so that he might tear it out by the root.

But Rafiel and Christopher held him back, and Semyaza bowed his head and turned away; in his eyes was sorrow, but his wings were rainbows that shed light as he flew along the shore. All along the beach, bent over the miles and miles of sand, were Watchers counting each grain. Christopher stood there, holding Michael.

"Why are you so unkind to him?" Christopher said.

"He became a traitor long ago, and no Angel will ever trust him again. He was the leader of the Watchers before the flood. When the Watchers fell from grace, he did not even ask God to show mercy. He only asked forgiveness for himself."

"But Heaven did forgive him; he retained his name." Rafiel said.

"Father showed mercy, but he never forgave as Jesus did. I never forgave."

Michael turned. His eyes cut across the beaches, pausing at each huddled Watcher as they counted every grain of sand.

"That whole cast of Angels can not be trusted. Do you know why they do that, counting each grain of sand? I once told the Watchers that they would regain their prescient sight if only they knew the number of sand grains scattered across all the beaches in the world."

"But that is a lie; their sight has been taken as punishment." Rafiel said.

"Yes forever, but I did not lie. The number of sands can never be known; the deed is impossible. That is my eternal punishment. Let their desire for sight feed their suffering. They have sinned, and I do not quarter evil. I will show no mercy for my enemies for I am the sword of Heaven. God may sheath me from time to time in offering peace, but never will he use me to usher forth the mercy of his son."

Christopher frowned. Rafiel smiled, and when he did a long scar along his left cheek became visible. Though the scar was deep and ran the length of his face, it was well hidden except when Rafiel smiled. Michael's eyes held to that scar, reminding him that mirth was so often a sign of weakness.

The children moved forward beyond the brace of their Guardian Angels; they hurried toward the world below. They ran upto Christopher; even though he was a very large man, they were not afraid for he was covered in light. He picked them up by the armfull.

"Who are you?" Rafiel said.

Christopher began to speak, but Michael answered for him.

"That is why I told you to stop your fight. He is no demon but rather a holy man, more than that, he is a Saint."

"Call me Christopher; I am the Patron Saint of Travelers."

"Yes, but why have you come?" Michael said.

"The Angels left Heaven. The Prophets are gone. Now the Saints have begun to come down into the world. Each has their own reason, all of us has our own duty, and I come to help these children as they make this last journey."

"Then you have come to fight by our side, for we move towards a battlefield." Rafiel said, but he looked over at Michael for reassurance.

"He is right. This is not a march to the world but to a war." Michael said.

"Jesus warned me that you might feel that way, but I have learned of another way. We do not have to find peace through destruction. Perhaps we only need to take a different path."

"Think what you want Saint, but this road leads to war. And if you walk with us, you walk with an army." Michael said.

Christopher shook his head, that was the way he used think before Jesus had taught him a different way. He was sorry that he had fought Rafiel, just as he was sorry for ever serving Satan.

He picked the children up without saying a word, waded across the waters and set them on the ship's deck. The entire vessel was alive; the wood was not cut but had grown into the form of a hull. The masts were not logs but rather great trees with branches that stretched wide. And white silk was fastened amongst the green leaves.

The children began to play, running up and down the deck, rustling the leaves as they went. Christopher smiled. His face was white and galliant like polished ivory. He placed a pendant of silver upon each of their necks.

"I will go with you, but I can not fight. I was a great and powerful being in life, but my death has brought even greater strength. My hands are no longer smithed for battle but rather formed for blessings." Christopher said.

"Do you know of the Apocolypse? That is the war that I speak of." Michael said.

"I have seen the preparations in Heaven. All the angels are clad in armor; the armory has been emptied. The Twelve Gates were shut and locked."

"Then I ask you, as Guardian of Heaven and Ruler of Angels, aid me in my quest. We need your strength; we need your hand in this war." Michael said.

Christopher bowed; there was white fire rising from his brow and encircling his head. Michael thought Christopher bowed to him, but instead Saint Christopher bent down and took two children upon his back.

"I do what I do, but I can not fight."

Christopher walked into the water holding the children above his head. He placed them on the ship's bow.

"Jesus wanted you to know that Lucifer convinced Jacob to join him."

"That is why I wanted to destroy Lucifer in the field. His mouth is a sword. His very existance is a curse." Michael said.

"Yes, I heard that Jesus intervened and would not let you destroy him; mercy is his way. Love is his strength." Christopher said.

Michael lept with his emarld wings unfurled and he showed the full extent of his power. All over his wings were not feathers but rather warrior Angels. Their eyes were dark; their swords were bright.

"Mercy is a weakness." Michael said.

"All you want is war." Christopher said.

Michael pulled his sword and visions of a great war could be seen amongst the flames. There were Angels being slain by the thousands; demons marched in and consumed the souls of men. The war depicted darkness conquering light.

"I want this vision to be a lie; I want justice to be brought down on Lucifer before he corrupts Heaven. But above all, I want his rule to end."

"You may not start the war this day." Christopher said.

Michael raised his hand and upon it was drawn the emblem of Heaven; it was a commandment given by God. One word was written there: Lucifer.

"Yes, I too have read the Prophecy. Perhaps it will be your sword that condemns him, but there is time yet for redemption. Jesus will seek another path." Christopher said.

"You believe in forgiveness, but I do not." Michael said.

"Still you must wait."

"God will fight in this war; he showed me his sword. He does not share his son's compassion."

Christopher only smiled with peace in his eyes.

"You could not conceive of the breadth of God's love nor ponder the depth of his compassion. God abides by Jesus' prayers for peace, and so must you."

Michael still moved forward with his sword in hand, but the belly of Heaven opened from above. God reached down with a finger of lightening and touched Michael's crown. Christopher bowed his head, and the Angels sang of Forgiveness.

But Michael looked at the Saint with fire in his eyes.

"I wait for now, but my sword will have Lucifer's neck."