ANGEL ALEILAH - GUARDIAN & COUNSELOR

Angel Aleilah: Guardian

Author: Melinda S Reynolds



SHORTLY BEFORE THE GREAT FLOOD:

Archiver, thou will now add a new entry into the Book of Angels.

“I am ready, Lord.” The Angel Archiver held a scroll formed from AngelFire. He stood in the vast Archival Hall of History that seemed to stretch into infinity. Vast archways enclosed the Hall in filigree of gold and silver, forming an enormous latticework globe set amongst the clouds north of the Central Axis of Heaven

The Archiver waited, AngelFire hovering over the blank scroll preparatory to writing.

God spoke to him, and the Archiver wrote in elegant script:

Angel Aleilah: Guardian ...and Counselor

She was created Angel.

She would be called “Aleilah”.

Aleilah would never be a human child. Her appearance, as with all the others, would be dictated by personality. An expression of a mood that suddenly struck, or something deeper – indicative of how one feels all the time. Some of the angels shifted in appearance, other angels remained constant with their guise, and many preferred the natural state of pure energy opposed to any manifestation.

She preferred to look female, and youthful.

That she looked female would be of her own choosing; she ‘felt’ female. The age she chose to appear would be a happenstance; she would be younger than the rest of the other Angels at the time. Her friend Liftheon, a Warrior Angel, became enamored of her charming personality from her inception. It would be he who will first refer to her as the ‘little one’, so she made herself as such. Not so very young for a human, appearing to be twenty or so, but very young for an Angel. And quite small, compared to the eight-foot-tall male angels, but still resilient and full of energy.

And Aleilah would be influenced by the angels, guided by the archangels, and balanced by Mankind.

Now, I shall give life to those words.



PART 1
I

After the Great Flood, God sent Raphael to Earth to give Noah the Sefer Noah, a book to teach the patriarch and his family how to care for the newly created Earth. Raphael remained to aid in this undertaking as Noah’s preceptor angel, and the Earth’s healing angel. Upon his return to Heaven, God summoned him and he responded, alighting in the Celestial Courtyard.

“I am here, Father.” He bowed, his jade green eyes revealing his curiosity.

Raphael, the Earth is experiencing a new beginning; and there will be a new beginning in Heaven as well.

“In what way, Father? Thou art not considering flooding Heaven, art Thou?”

Not quite that extensive, Healer; and, hopefully, not that disastrous. I am thinking of creating a new Angel, one with very special duties. I would like thy learned input on this, if it so pleases thou.

“I am honored.” Raphael bowed, then straightened. “What will his duties be?”

This Angel will be a Mediator, amongst Humans as well as the Host of Heaven.

“Then he had best have a formidable aspect and be fearsome of mien if Thee expects the Cherubim to agree with anything, much less be willing to listen to him – as he will be only an Angel.”

God laughed. Quite so. Hast thou any suggestions?

Raphael thought for a moment. “Aggressive, unyielding, dedicated, persevering, and very, very, very patient.”

Brilliant sparks of Light appeared in the air between them, energy surging in white and blue flashes; pale green plasma suffused the widening arcs, carrying the Angel’s foundation of being.

“Will he be tall, and big and fearsome of mien?”

Not ‘he’, Raphael, she.

“She?!” Raphael’s surprise gave way to delight. “She...” he mused. “You said he, er, she would be a Mediator. I fear the higher Choirs – the Thrones, Cherubim, and Seraphs – will be most difficult. They will disdain an Angel’s advice, and presence, amongst them. There will be comparisons with the Ha-Satan, with Eve of Eden... especially with the Cherubim. Unless, of course,” he added with a grin, “She is tall and big and fearsome of mien.”

Art thou not the ruling Prince of the Cherubim?

“Oh, I see; it falls on me, then.” He gave a fatalistic shrug of shoulders and wings. “Sometimes being a Prince is not all it is cracked up to be.”

A wave of God’s hand, and the energy shifted, and reformed.

Raphael smiled, nodding with approval as the Angel’s energy contracted to a brilliant, pale green outline. Petite and feminine, the Angel knelt before the Creator.

Thy name will be ‘Aleilah’, a spirit born of God. Thou shalt meditate, and aid the Host when called upon; thou shalt arbitrate Human affairs as well, as decreed by My Will. Doest thou accept this role, and vow thy soul and life to Me?

“Yes, Father, with great joy.”

“Welcome, Angel Aleilah, thou art a wonder to my eyes.” Raphael stepped toward her, and she rose.

His open arms enveloped her slight form in a joyous embrace, and she laughed with delight. “So art thou, angel. What is thy name?”

“Raphael,” he smiled down at her, releasing her and stepping back.

Thou will be presented to the Host of Heaven. Choose now the form thou wishes to have.

AngelFire swirled around her, and her image sparkled, shimmered, and solidified into the form of a young girl of 10 to 14 Human years. A russet robe of linen covered her slim form from neck to feet, her blue-black hair falling in sheets of shining silk over her back, to her waist. Delicate, luminescent wings fluttered, the feathers long and tapered, lavender filaments taking on a deep red tint at the edges.

This suits thou, Angel?

“Very much, Father.”

“It is perfect for thee, Aleilah,” Raphael took her hand and gave her an elegant bow. “Enchanting and enchanted, my dear.”

She giggled at his courtly manner, eyes sparkling with humor.

“But this robe,” the Healer frowned, “it seems too heavy for such a light-spirited creature as thee.”

Thou art right. Aleilah, thou will have suitable raiment.

Brilliant, white Light changed the russet robe to a tunic so white it gleamed with a bluish sheen; the full skirt fell at calf-length, and a gold sash completed the outfit.

Thou are free to make any changes that thee may wish, Aleilah.

“Oh, no, Father; this is beautiful.”

God considered, and Light once again touched the white fabric. Perhaps a small addition.... Here... And here... and there...

As He spoke, perfect gems of faceted emeralds and diamonds appeared along the hem of her tunic, in varying sizes; thickly meshed at the edge, the gems became smaller and scattered up the length of the skirt, ending a few inches below her hips. The rich green and ice blue of the gems blazed fire against the white, and the reflected glow shifted with each movement, never remaining the same.

The Host will now be Summoned.

In response to the summons, the Host arrived by Choir. Nine Choirs, from Angel to Seraphim, settled onto the Courtyard before God, Raphael, and Aleilah, curious about the summons. Aleilah moved to stand closer to Raphael as the Host filled the Courtyard and beyond, and above: thousands and thousands of them. She stared, transfixed by their size, power, and beauty.

“Thou wilt have no problems with the first six Choirs.” Raphael assured her.

“And the last three?”

“Possible problems.”

The Choirs murmured amongst themselves about the unfamiliar Angel standing with Raphael and God. Their Creator raised a hand, indicating Aleilah. His motion stilled the Choirs, and all listened as He spoke.

I hath brought all of ye together to present the newest member of the Choir of Angels: Aleilah, Guardian Angel and Counselor.

She will mediate disputes among the Choirs, and also intercede on Earthly matters when I require it. She will be accorded all due respect and honor her station requires, and ye, My Sons of Light, will permit her involvement and her contribution as relates to her role as Guardian.

Each Choir will now come forth, so she may meet each of thee personally.

The Angel Order approached first, bowed as one, and welcomed her among them. They then stood aside as the next five Orders accepted her with respect and interest; the overflowing waves of goodwill, acceptance, and love swept over her, leaving her spirit light-hearted with joy.

Then all the Orders departed, leaving the Thrones, Cherubim, and Seraphim Choirs; the Angel Order also remained, as if to give her added support.

The Thrones, Cherubim, and Seraphim approached with grandeur and dignity, towering over her physically, mentally, and emotionally. Raphael’s hand settled on her shoulder, and she sent him a grateful look and a weak smile.

The Healer returned the smile. “Of the remaining three Orders, the Cherubim will be the most prickly and difficult. They fancy themselves above the Host and the only Choir that God truly trusts. The Powers will tolerate you as long as you do nothing against God’s Law; the Seraphim... well, they will follow Michael’s lead.”

“But, he is not here.”

“Which means they will do nothing.”

The Powers bowed, and accepted her nervous nod of thanks with silent grace.

The Seraphim followed, their attitude openly astonished, but still accepting.

Both Choirs then left, leaving the powerful Cherubim Order.

Raphael leaned closer to her, and spoke in a quiet tone. “The Cherubim invoke fear, Aleilah; do not let it overwhelm thee, for such is their nature.”

“I do not know how; they are unlike anything I have ever seen...”

“Not so, Leea. Doest thou feel at ease around me?”

“Well, of course, but--”

“I am a member of the Cherubim Class.”

“Impossible! Thou art nothing like them!”

“Oh, but I can be, when I wish to.” A quick flash of flame appeared in his eyes as he gazed sternly at the approaching Cherubim Order. She felt a mixture of chilling awe and pleasant warmth of protection.

“The Cherubim are Guardians of the fiercest kind. There are three divisions: The Cherubs, the Khirubs, and the Kherubum. The Cherubs are aggressive avengers; they rarely vary from their energy forms, and none of the Host will cross them; Cherubiel, a high-ranking Cherub, guards the Tree of Life in Eden. The Khirubs compose one-third of the Order; they are the Guardians of God’s House and Temple. They often take on God’s Image. There are only four Kherubim; they are empowered by Michael, and their ultimate purpose is to bring destruction to all Creation.”

Raphael kept his place next to her, his wings curving around her to ward off the worst effects of the Cherubim presence. To her credit, she did not waver, but faced them full on, granting them their due respect as they greeted her. As they departed, she leaned against Raphael.


“That was...the most amazing experience I have ever had. They were awesome, so powerful, and, in a way, beautiful in their formidable aspect.”


II

Raphael escorted Aleilah throughout Heaven, familiarizing her with the major landmarks and gathering areas . At the end of a tour of all the aeries, he paused, hovering near the Third Outpost.

“Thou wilt be allowed thine own aerie, Aleilah. Doest thou have a preference of location?”

She darted about, unable to choose among so many attractive options. “The city is so beautiful, but a bit too busy for my temperament. The outer layers of the City, where most of the aeries are located, is also wondrous, but I would feel... well, different... among them. But I also do not want to be out in this open expanse, as if I were apart from all the other angels.” She frowned, and swept down closer to the verdant fields below them.

“I know what thou means,” Raphael followed her. “My aerie is near Gabriel’s, but my Retreat is earthbound, among the foothills of Heaven. Come, I will show thee.”

*** *** ***

Raphael landed in the garden first, and watched with amusement as Aleilah flitted from one group of exotic flowers to the next.

“Rafe! What are these? The flora here is very different from the rest of Heaven.” She alighted before a towering column, gazing up at the colorful, fragrant blooms entwining the gold-veined marble pillar. “And these! What are they called?”

“That is the crowning glory of Eden, Leea; they are called roses.”

“Eden? I do not recall seeing that in Heaven.” A brilliant prismatic display of light caught her attention, and she flew over to it. “Oh, these are breathtaking! They look like crystal. Are they alive?”

Raphael nodded, taking the opportunity to ignore the first part of her comment to answer her question. “Very much alive; I bred this particular hybrid myself. Take care, looks are deceiving.”

She examined the delicate, lily-like blossoms carefully, not touching them. “The edges look very sharp.”

“Quite.” The Healer smiled, pleased that she did not disturb the fragile blooms. “Every genus of known flora in the Universe is here, along with a few not so well known.”

She pointed to a gently rolling valley divided into long rows by parallel structures supporting dark, clinging vines. “What are those? I do not see any flowers on them.”

“My vineyard. It is the only one in Heaven, but then,” he added with a wry smile, “only one is actually needed.”

“Oh.” She nodded, not really understanding.

With a wide sweep of his arm, Raphael indicated a far archway lined with columns and courtyards, leading to a soaring edifice seemingly built into the rocky side of the foothills. “My Retreat. And,” he said, his smile becoming a broad grin, “I believe I have company.”

“I can sense them, too. Warriors, I think.” She looked amazed at her new-found ability to sense the presence and type of other angels.

They flew together to the archway, landed, an entered the Retreat.

Muffled voices became clearer as they approached the center atrium across from the main foyer.

“Thou art the most stubborn, most aggravating Angel I have ever encountered!” A very male voice rose in volume with each word.

“And thou art the most noisiest!” Came the equally loud rejoiner.

Raphael motioned for Aleilah to follow behind him, and remain concealed by his great teal wings. He looked at the two warriors with exaggerated bafflement. “ ‘Most noisiest’, Liftheon? Is that even a proper progression of superlatives?”

Liftheon, a dark-skinned, black-haired Warrior, cast an annoyed look at the Healer. “Such a superlative is necessary, for him!”

All eyes turned to the golden-skinned, blond Warrior, who countered, “Hah! So thou admits I am superior.” He smiled with smug victory.

“I did not say that!”

Raphael glared at both. “Are thee here for a particular reason, other than vying for the title of ‘Most Petulant Warrior’ ?”

The blond Warrior returned the Healer’s sharp look. “This... Angel... refuses to listen to reason.”

“I listen when I hear it. Just because thy knowledge is greater than any other Angel, Mihdael, does not mean thou also possesses greater acumen!”

Raphael laughed quietly. “Well, Mihdael, he does have a point. Now,” the Healer raised both hands to forestall any further discourse, “before the two of thee start in again, I have someone I want thee to meet.”

Distracted for the moment, the Warriors stared at Raphael with growing curiosity.

“Angel Warriors Mihdael and Liftheon,” Raphael intoned in a formal voice, “may I present Heaven’s newest member, Aleilah, the Guardian Angel and Counselor.” He took her hand and brought her into full view of the Warriors.

“So this is who the other Warriors were carrying on about when we returned from our mission.” Amusement sparked in Liftheon’s amber eyes, his deep voice warm and welcoming. He knelt down on one knee before her, his golden wings folded and his scarlet cloak glowing around his black and gold armor. “Thou art a delight, Little One. I am Liftheon, always at thy service.”

She gazed at the vast expanse of his muscular shoulders, then at his large hand – easily three times the size of her own – as he lightly grasped her wrist in a gesture of acceptance. “I...I am pleased to meet thee, Warrior Liftheon. Raphael has told me much about the Warriors, and I have met the others; but thou art the kindest I have met thus far.”

Stifled laughter came from the other Warrior, which ceased when she turned her searching gaze on him.

“Thou art Mihdael?” She said in a gentle voice.

Suddenly self-conscious, the golden-skin Warrior nodded, reddening a bit. Her questioning gaze grew compassionate and accepting; a sense of contentment came over him, accompanied by a very different feeling of understanding and love that radiated from her innermost being. He felt, and experienced, her very soul, allowing him to see all she was, without reservation or conditions. It took concentrated effort to break eye contact with her, and when he looked at Liftheon, he knew the dark warrior did not have the same connection with Aleilah that he had just experienced.

He finally found his voice. “...ah, yes; I am... honored to meet thee.” He glanced over at his brother warrior. “Liftheon, thou art correct. Sometimes I allow my pride to overrule my common sense..”

Liftheon looked up in wonder at his changed attitude, then rose to his feet. “I, too, over reacted – although,” he added, winking at Aleilah, “not quite as much as thee. Thou will reorder the roster?”

Mihdael shrugged, his white wings lifting slightly. “For a while. For the next four Turns, Warrior Kahiel will take thy shift, and thou canst have the fourth shift.

“Roster? Shift?” Raphael looked from one Warrior to the other. “That was what all that noise was about? Thee came to me to settle a dispute over guard duty?”

The two Warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, now aligned in agreement.

“Of course,” Mihdael explained in an intentional reasonable tone. “Liftheon is a night person. He did not care for the Dawn Patrol.’

Aleilah bit back her amusement. “Makes sense to me.”

“I am glad it makes to sense to someone.” Raphael waved them off.

“I will take my leave, Raphael, for I have changes to make to the Roster.” Liftheon bowed again to Aleilah, then took flight through the archway and disappeared from sight in Heaven’s golden sky.



[Mihdael takes Aleiah on a guided tour of Eden]


[some time later...]


Aleilah clamped her hands tightly over her mouth, trying to silence her giggling, as she hid in the dense foliage of Eden’s forest. “Do not cheat, Mihdael; you have to look for me!”

The Warrior answered her mental order with one his own his own. "If I have to remain Human-like, then so must you, Leea. No fair disappearing when I get close to you.”

She listened as he thrashed about, several long paces away from her. She backed away from the sounds of his advance, letting the thick curtain of green fronds conceal her completely. If Mihdael remained ‘Human-like’ he could not use his Angelic senses and powers to find her; and with those imposed conditions, she felt confident she could elude him.

The sounds stopped, and she strained to listen. Nothing; not a footfall, or rustle, or breath of sound. She frowned, wondering at this unexpected ploy. Humans could not move that quietly; annoyed, she barreled out of concealment, converted to her Angel form, and dove through a thick copse where she sensed Mihdael standing.

At the last second, she plowed through the thick undergrowth, arms out flung to tackle him around his knees. Her aim was excellent, her target, however, was not. Head down, her shoulder slammed into what she thought would be the back of Mihdael’s knees, and her arms went around what she thought to be his legs.

“Gotcha—ooffttt!” Her headlong rush ended with a jarring collision, and her arms encircled twin oak trees.

Startled, she looked up at the most beautiful creature she had ever seen...

“Oh...” Her arms fell away, and she fluttered back, attempting to regain her lost composure. “Oh, I...” Her translucent, delicate wings lifted her from the ground. She stared at him with unabashed awe. “You... you are... magnificent!”

Cool gray eyes gazed down at her, somewhat taken aback. “I am Michael.” And his look of astonishment did not waver. “And what art thou, small one?”

She flew around him, then settled on the ground before him. She curtsied, very formal and proper. “I am Aleilah, Guardian Angel ; and I am most pleased to finally meet you.”

[more scenes...]

She and the warrior Angels Liftheon and Mihdael, were becoming well acquainted with humans and their customs. They would sit together - when they had the time - on some cloud or dimension or other, and talk about what they had learned on Earth.

“They didn’t hurt you after you said this to them, did they, little one?”

"No, Liftheon; They have never harmed me. They are not inclined to hurt their children."

“Ah ha!” Laughed Mihdael. “So it is your appearance they are responding to! Try mediating the next as an angry, crooked old man with a skin disease – see how far that gets you!”

“Mihdael!” She laughed, “I am sure it would not matter in the least!” She looked at him, pretending to be shocked.

“Then why do you not appear as such? Why is it always the young girl?” Liftheon remarked, tugging on a russet feather from her elegant wings. She looked over at him, as he reclined lazily on a rock and gave her a mischievous, questioning look.

“Why do you not fight as a small girl, my warrior?”

“My opponents would not be frightened by a mere slip of a girl in armor...”

Mihdael laughed under his breath, and looked at Liftheon casually. “Oh, I do not know, Liftheon; the idea of you as a female scares the hell out of me...” Aleilah put a hand over her mouth and suppressed a giggle.

Liftheon continued, not very amused by Mihdael’s contribution. “…and they would have the advantage over me.”

“But, why? Would you be any less strong? Would your faith in our Father be any less diligent?”

“No, but…”

She tilted her head at the ebony-skinned Angel. “You do not have to elaborate, Liftheon… and the same goes for me. We pick our appearances as we see fit, for our souls, and our work.”

She smiled at him them, and he shook his head. “ ‘Tis lucky I have Joined with you so often, little one… I know your mind, no matter what your visage suggests.”

“Oh?! And what would that be, warrior?”

“That…” he grabbed her by a thin leg and held fast, “You could not fight to save a flea on God’s dog!”

She yelped and leapt away from him. Mihdael tossed her his sword, laughing. “See to it then, Leea! Teach this brutal warrior a thing or two about fighting!”

She barely caught it and the tip came to rest on the rocky surface. The sword’s unfamiliar energy reverberated and crackled through her thin frame, and she tried to stop it – it was like a strange buzzing in her head. But, the harder she fought it, the more it made her shiver. She leaned over with the hilt of the heavy sword in her tiny hands, blinking as it subsided.

Mihdael laughed at her again, “If you fight the sword’s energy, you shall never harness it!”

Liftheon stood up, flexing his strong golden wings and unsheathing his weapon with a dramatic flair. Aleilah rolled her eyes. “Are we not a little too elaborate, Angel?” she giggled.

“She will barely have raised the sword an inch off the ground, and I will have already run her through twice, Mihdael! Can we not find a dagger for her?” Liftheon laughed, and Aleilah narrowed her eyes at him playfully. She heaved, and raised the sword up above her head… only to begin falling backwards.

“Oh, dear…” One step, two… she somehow steadied herself and dropped the sword back to the ground. Fantastic energy sparks flew everywhere.

Liftheon charged her, feigning aggression, and she laughed despite her dubious position. She fell to the ground just as he was upon her, dropped Mihdael’s sword, and escaped by crawling through his legs. He spun around when she stood up and turned to face him. Laughing again (as he was an Angel that laughed easily) he picked up the sword she had dropped and started to charge her with both of them. She backed up with a grin, resigning herself to Liftheon’s victory – right into Mihdael’s strong arms.

He grabbed her gently and held her there as Liftheon approached slowly, trying not to laugh at her further. “You would do well to learn how to defend yourself, little one,” Mihdael said gently with a smile, “Earth is not always the safest place for children.”

“Ah, but I am not a child!” She giggled and looked back up at her older sibling adoringly, with a bright smile and a gleam in her eyes.

“Then stop behaving as such!”

They turned as a unit to find the source of the angry voice. It was Michael, Archangel, and Commander of God’s Army. Mihdael and Liftheon immediately assumed the military stance, and averted their eyes. Aleilah watched them become the taciturn warriors again, then she turned to look at Michael, scowling.

“Michael, do not yell at them...” She poked her face out from behind the safety of Mihdael's huge arm, and watched the Archangel's stern face closely. “They were only playing with me…”

“Yes, that I gathered,” he replied, annoyed. “Warriors were not made for play. They have duties; I expect those duties to be carried out.”

“Of course, Commander.” Mihdael was more than patient with Michael’s reserved displays. He loved and respected the Archangel, as did Liftheon. They left him there with Aleilah, and returned to their assigned posts for their shifts.

Aleilah’s eyes grew softer, for she never stayed mad long… unless properly provoked. And Michael seemed to be the only one that brought that out in her. She spoke with a young girl’s voice, but used words that were wise beyond her appearance. “Michael, why are you so unyielding? They were not doing anything wrong. Are they not allowed to talk with me? You could have taken part in our game for a moment… You would not have been unwelcome.” She smiled at him softly.

He looked down at her, at those beautiful eyes that never seemed to lose the capacity to love. Michael found he had to look away from her in order to stay focused on his point. “I have no time for futile discussions with you… little Angel.” His tone was not mean, but it was not in her favor.

Aleilah’s gentle smiled faded at his words, and she balked. “Futile? Since when have you found talking to me futile, Archangel?” Her brows knitted together indignantly. “I always pay attention when you speak to me.”

“That is because I do not waste your time.”

She clenched her fists and fluttered her wings, raising herself off the ground to look him in his silver eyes. His head backed away from hers – just a little.

“Oooooh! Sometimes… you make me so mad, Michael!!”

She flew off in a huff. Something inside him suggested going to make amends with her, but he ignored it. It was only Aleilah, the little one - and she always got over her trivial upsets. At least, that was how Michael saw it.



[more scenes...]




Aleilah had never been a human child.
She was an Angel, just like all the others.
God knew it, as did Liftheon, and Mihdael… and so did Michael.
But she looked like a young girl to him, and sounded like a young girl… and sometimes, in his opinion, she acted like one. With his rigid demeanor and his lack of patience for such things, he found her manifestation… disconcerting. He became unsettled at the thought of Joining with her, and thus began to ignore her… Eventually turning her away.
He assured himself that she would get over it…

She sat with her face in the palms of her hands, steamed and a little sad.
Liftheon tried to make her happy, but this time she was not budging. She could be very stubborn. “Leea, what is wrong? You have not graced me with a smile in weeks. I am beginning to worry, little one.”
“Michael… told me I was futile.”
“I am sure he meant something other than how you have taken it. I have never known him to insult another Angel.”
“He said futile, warrior. He meant futile.” She sat up and watched the Angel’s face. “Perhaps he was not being insulting – but please do not begin treating me as a child, like he has. Not you, Liftheon.”
“I know better, Aleilah. I will not.”
“I should just make myself to be as a boring adult male human, like everyone else has, and be done with it!” She threw her hands in the air and her wings shuddered testily. “He won’t even look at me when we pass one another!”
“He is very busy, Aleilah.”
“He is very intentional, Liftheon.” She stared at him with what could only be described as a look of disgust on her face. Liftheon had never seen it there, before now.
“Do not let it vex you so. It is rare that the Commander Joins with any of us, now.”
“But he has never Joined with me.”
“Have you ever asked him?”
“I was going to… but I feel strange about it now. How is it I can Join with you and Mihdael – with any of the rest – so easily… but not with him?”
“He is in a difficult position.”
“But that is what he is doing to me! I have never worried about looking different than the rest of us before… but now,” she sighed, “It is all I can think about. I would not be comfortable changing this,” she gestured at her form, “to suit only him. Yet Michael has made me feel that perhaps I should.”
“I shall talk to him on your behalf, if you would like.”
“No! No, Liftheon, do not,” she swallowed, looking a little frightened. “I do not want you to do that. He would only assume that I am too ‘childish’ to approach him myself. It would make things worse than they already are.” She laid a small hand on his shoulder. He removed it and took it in his much larger hand, holding it gently and smiling at her. Her eyes grew soft at his kind gesture.
“Very well then, Leea… but you should talk with him… soon. This disquiet does not agree with you.”
“I will. I will talk to him.”
He squeezed her hand and took his leave of her, after finally getting the bright smile he had been waiting for.
She watched him fly off, happy for having revealed her mind to him… but honestly not feeling any better. She wanted to talk to Michael… But what amount of time would a busy Archangel have for her?

Aside from God Himself, only one other thing could remedy Aleilah’s melancholy, almost as completely.
She often visited Eden’s Garden, staying carefully out of the sight lines of the Cherubim placed there to guard the Tree of Life. Mihdael had taken her there shortly after her creation, before her first visit to Earth. She wanted to become aquatinted with what she would find on the blue planet, and Mihdael thought Eden was the best place to start. Raphael had been showing her his garden at his Retreat. Mihdael, Joining them, had snorted, “You call this a garden? I will show you a Garden!”
There were, however, no more creatures left there to speak of anymore. The flora had remained, as intact and sumptuous as it had been since the first light fell upon it. But the fauna was gone, sent to Earth after the casting out of the First Son and Daughter, Adam and his mate, the Lady Eve. Not even insects remained here.
Such things were not necessary. Aleilah (and Mihdael as well) found being in Eden’s Garden was like experiencing God’s own soul. The view was always magnificent, the air was clean and sweet, the plants were lush and the water was like liquid crystal. Eden never failed to ease her sorrows, or clear her head of the unwanted thoughts that plagued her.
She was sitting beneath a poplar tree, watching, and especially listening to, the largest waterfall in the garden. Her thoughts ran deep around Michael. Whenever she felt ‘different’ from the rest of Heaven’s residents, it always seemed to stem from his treatment. Why could he not see that she loved him dearly? She wanted very much to be his friend. She wished that he would give the same respect and interest to her that she so freely gave to him. Just because she looked younger and female didn’t mean she had nothing to offer.
She closed her eyes and felt the slightest hint of mist hit her face, and smiled. Something brushed across her face and her eyelids flickered open. It was a seedpod, floating down from the poplar tree and being picked up by the breeze. She caught it in her hand and took it apart gently, tiny piece by tiny piece. Aleilah was always amazed at the ability to create life, no matter whose ability it was. Her head swam with wonder as she pulled away the fluffy fibers that acted as a carrier, taking the seeds within to a new place. All that was necessary now was for the pods to find the right piece of soil to land on, and water and sun to nourish them, and life would spring forth.
My Father, she thought, is brilliant!
She stood up as a warm breeze drifted by her, lifting her tunic’s hem and making the jewels sparkle in the sun. Several pods blew from the treetop, and floated away on a jet stream. Mesmerized, she followed them. Eden was a large dimension – there was no telling how far they could get. With her head now cleared of any thoughts of the dour Archangel Michael, and she focused on following the small miracle of this tree.
Aleilah hurried after them, her slight frame bounding over boulders and through cold, shallow streams. The pods were high in the air, moving together like a school of fluffy, carefree fish. She looked up and followed them for what felt like hours, totally lost in the magic of the moment.
A violent screech stopped her in her tracks, freezing before a large tree. The tree. She had gone too far, and had not been paying attention to her direction. There before her was the angry Cherubim, with its flaming sword, fiercely protecting the Tree of Life. While it had no body, no mouth to speak of, she heard its voice as clearly as the waterfall far behind her.
Who dares to step before this Holy domain of God?
She was in for it now.
“I am Aleilah, Guardian Angel.”
You do not belong here! Leave at once!
Aleilah, who never said die when someone exhibited an exaggerated sense of self-importance, frowned at the buzzing wave of light and shouted at it in her own defense. “Why are you yelling at me? I would not harm any of God’s creations! I am an Angel!” She covered her ears and screamed to be heard over the angry cracklings of light and violent buzzing.
It moved closer, threatening her with the flaming sword, doing only what it had been created to do. Aleilah felt rather than saw the build up of energies in the weapon that was now aimed at her. She knew that the blow would not kill her, but it was going to be brutally damaging to her spirit. There was no time to avoid it. She curled her wing over her head and covered her small frame. When she heard the first bolt of fire explode from the sword, she braced herself for the worst.
She never felt a thing.
Barely a split second had gone by after she covered herself with her wing, and there was Michael, deflecting the fire easily with his own vibrant emerald wing. He knelt next to her, his wing draped over her frame; and she looked up at his stern features, set in hard, immobile lines, as he, too, looked away from the searing Light. The attack suddenly broke off, as the Cherubim finally became aware of the Archangel's presence. Michael rose angrily, his out swept wings still protecting her, and glared with tenuous control at the Cherubim. They had absolutely no power over him – or his beautiful wings. He stood up from where he had knelt to protect Aleilah, and stared the Cherubim down as he stormed toward it. She gaped at him, stunned that he had gotten there so quickly. Both the young Angel and the Tree’s guardian knew his wrath was close to being unleashed.
Michael entered into its ‘light’ without hesitation and looked at its center, saying through clenched teeth, “As you were!” in a Fire-from-Heaven voice that Aleilah never wanted to be directed at her.
He turned away from the creature, daring it to retaliate, which it did not, of course. He motioned for Aleilah to come with him. She looked up at Michael, with large, grateful eyes, then back at the Cherubim. She glowered at it, from the safety of Michael’s side, then turned away with the Archangel.
As he escorted her out of Eden, his emerald wing instinctively covered the small Angel from the view of the Tree's Guardian, but he never actually touched her. Inwardly, he felt a great relief that she was not hurt. The only reason he had made it on time was because he had followed her there, concerned over her mood. He had been watching her… and he was going to approach her, but he saw that her spirits had lightened and he did not want to interrupt her then. It was foolish for her to have lost sight of where she was walking, but Michael knew, all too well, the draw Eden had on the Angels…
She muttered under her breath so that only he could hear, “What a foul temper! I cannot stand being around the Cherubim class!”
“I tend to agree with you. They are so...” The words failed him. He was describing a fellow angelic host. How could he say anything negative?
Aleilah, however, was plagued by no such problem. “Twitchy, perhaps?”
“Yes!” he whispered, looking down at her finally.
“Hasty comes to mind as well. Raphael would have had a mess on his hands if that fire ball had found my wing as was intended.” She looked up at him adoringly - a way that she hadn’t in ages. Her eyes bore right through him. She smiled, saying “Thank you, Michael.”
Those eyes were just too much for him to bear. Michael could not bring himself to replying with a simple ‘you are welcome’. Instead, the wall went back up, and he chose to counter her. “Just remember that, Angel, the next time you get distracted and go wandering off in a dangerous realm. What if you should not remember to call for my help again? It is fortunate I overhead the altercation, this time.”
Her smile dropped, and he immediately regretted his choice of words. She exhaled and looked away from him, shaking her head. Why did he have to destroy every single conversation he had with her, by turning it into a damn lesson? Dropping clenched fists to her sides, Aleilah looked back up at him with narrowed eyes. Her voice was cold and harsh and quiet. “Have a nice day, Archangel.” She turned and left him there alone, ending the conversation.
It was the last one they had for many years to come.

*** *** ***
Michael went on about his duties, and Aleilah her work, relishing the few moments it would take her to Earth.
For the most part, he simply chose to ignore her, although there was less and less to ignore as time went on. Aleilah no longer asked him questions, or sought his advice or instruction. She hadn’t lingered at his feet in ages, looking up at him with genuine reverence, the way she now reserved only for his warriors Liftheon and Mihdael. He could honestly say that he did not miss such conduct… yet he couldn’t help taking note of its absence. Still, it was of no importance… If she needed to talk with him, or to call upon him for help, she had to know that she was more than welcome to do so. She had to.
Michael had no idea what troubling thoughts he had planted in the young Angel’s mind, simply by singling her out for looks and behavior unlike that of the other Angels. She grew more and more distant from the others. She would talk intimately and laugh solely with Liftheon and Mihdael, and Join with Liftheon only when there was occasion to do so… but even that became strained. They all felt a change in her, however slight. Only her beloved warriors were concerned. She was a busy guardian, after all. Most of the Heavenly Hosts had felt she was strange to begin with – running around looking like a young female – and while they never turned her away, she still felt their initial response to her appearance was… not necessarily negative… just peculiar. Perhaps in noting her appearance, they recalled the last Seraphim to manifest as female – the Ha-Satan – and her catastrophic fall from grace… or the shame that had befallen Eve. What disaster then, would Aleilah cause in turn? It was an unfair presumption, but it happened nonetheless.
The time for group prayer came and went. She was in attendance, lingering along the edges of the Angels. She felt no animosity toward them; indeed, she loved them all the same as ever, even Michael. Perhaps it was her undying affection for them that never alerted the others to her feelings. After the service, Aleilah walked through them apprehensively. She nodded her head and smiled as she passed them, but she did not stop to talk to any one of them. She watched their gestures as they moved, fluid and long… They were very confident. They were without worry. They towered above her. They were male.
They were different.
No, she told herself, It is you who are different…
Mihdael was standing near others like him, warriors. He smiled at her when she caught his eye, she looked back sweetly… but did not stop. Liftheon was there too, and he motioned for her to come nearer, but she shook her head and moved on, still smiling. Her innermost feelings were not up for display, and they were not required to be. If there was any trouble brewing below the surface, she was putting on a good show.
Then the summons came. It was like a gentle voice in her head. She loved it when God summoned her. The sound of His voice alone gave her great joy.
Angel Aleilah, attend my words.
She flitted off, unnoticed by all… oddly except for one Archangel, a red-headed, too-serious warrior.

“I am here, Father,” she bowed low before His golden throne, smiling.
Arise, daughter, and tell me what troubles thee.
“Troubles me, Lord?” She looked up at him and got to her feet. “I am not troubled, Father, and never when you call to me.”
Am I not aware of thy thoughts? I know when my children are in distress.
She looked down at her feet. There was no getting out of it now.
“Father,” she looked back up at His radiant light, gaining strength from it. “Do you think I ought to look as the others of my kind do? Do you disfavor my appearance?”
I have great love for all that I have created, Aleilah. Why dost thou ask this?
“I do not mean as one of your creations, Father… I refer rather to my… manifestation. Does it trouble you that I appear female, and younger than the rest?”
No, it does not. thee speaks of other Angels, doest thou not?
“Yes,” she said quietly, lowering her eyes.
Doest thou plan on changing your form in order to appease the others?
“I had thought of doing so, yes Father.”
And doest thou plan on becoming a warrior simply because thy friend Liftheon is one?
“No!” she laughed, not being able to stop herself, “I can hardly lift his sword! I am too small…”
Doest thou feel comfortable in this guise?
“I do.”
Then there is no question to be asked, Daughter, and there should be no troubling thoughts that follow such unnecessary questions.
Thou feels different because thou art different, Aleilah. There are those who do not desire to see thee change in such a way. Liftheon, for one, and Mihdael, for another. Raphael finds thee quite winsome.
She adored Raphael! In those rare moments the healer had time to talk with her, he was always attentive and patient. Aleilah swallowed hard and bit back the fear at her next question. “And you, Father? How do you find me?”
His light radiated toward her, and the warmth was palpable. She smiled, despite her doubts. This light was omnipresent, and it never failed to strengthen her resolve and make her feel completely loved.
Thy visage fits you more than you know, Daughter. Thou art not the Ha-Satan. Thou art not Eve, the First Daughter. I will not oppose thy decision to change thy appearance should thee decide as such… but know this: It would sadden me to see thee do so, simply to suit the preferences or fears of another.
She smiled at Him then, reflecting His light and His love in her fluid eyes. “Then I shall not change myself, Father… for I truly do not wish to.”
I am pleased.
I have work for thee. Choose now a human form, Angel Aleilah.
He had an assignment for her. She was going back to Earth…

****
When she set her small foot on the green paradise floor of an Amazonian rain forest, the world had changed little since her last visit. Instantly she had transformed herself between leaving Heaven’s gate and walking onto Earth. She looked like a small human girl of about ten; skin color, hair texture and facial structure befitting that of the locals. Her Father’s voice came to her again, and it was only for her to hear.
Thou may have trouble in that form, Aleilah. They can be a loving people, but also quite brutal to strangers.
“I work by virtue of Your grace, Father. If that will not suffice, then I am not doing my duty by You.”
Very well then… Thy bravery pleases Me, Little One. Return when thou hath completed thy task.
“I shall, Father!” She shouted, smiling as she leapt through the forest, climbing over dead trees and watching for poisonous snakes and bugs where she stepped. The noises of this land were incessant. The air was thick with the scent of animals, heavy oxygen, rotting vegetation and beautiful flowers. The sunlight forced its way through the thick canopy of leaves and branches, painting her brown skin with shifting patches of light. The ground was warm and muddy, and it slipped between her bare toes like it was penetrating her very soul…




{more scenes...}






[following section takes place after ANGEL WARRIORS: HELLBOUND and before HEAVENBOUND]


CIRCA 1991 – Heaven:

“Oh, Rafe,” Aleilah smiled at the Archangel. “It is not that bad, really--”

“Bad enough that I had to bring you here personally. If you insist on arguing with such unsavory characters, Little One, at least make certain of their true natures.”

“I was not arguing; I was pointing out alternatives. Their leader had a very good disguise--I did not realize it was one of Berrat’s minions. It looked very human. Well,” she amended, wincing as one of the deeper slashes began to heal, “his face looked human; the rest was covered up.”

“No doubt to conceal its extra set of arms,” Raphael commented dryly. He shook his head; no amount of reprimand would alter this Angel’s commitment to duty. He had barely gotten her to Heaven in time. Although the wounds were not fatal, if left unattended, the blood loss would have been detrimental to her in her human form. A form she insisted on maintaining even while he healed her. She wanted to make certain she appeared no differently--aside from the healed over wounds that a human would normally have from such injuries, which the Healer would also provide--when she returned to finish her mission.

“I think I did pretty good,” Aleilah gave him a hurt look. “After all, he was twice my size, and I managed to hold him off until you whisked me away.”

Raphael nodded. “That you did; however, you still sustained quite a bit of damage.”

Her expression changed to one of adoration. “Not as much damage as he sustained. You were…simply incredible! The way you tore into him, I almost felt sorry for the despicable toad! Mihdael told me you were a fearsome fighter, but I never realized how much! I am surprised Michael has not drafted you as one of his Lieutenants.”

The Healer smiled, accepting the praise with grace. “’Tis but one of my skills, to extinguish such Evil whenever I can. Like Mihdael, I, too, was trained by Michael, and I am always willing to respond to his call to arms.”

The healing neared completion, and Aleilah gazed past the Archangel, into the garden just visible past the far archway. “Speaking of Mihdael--how is he? I have had no time to inquire about him, but I am very glad to know he is back with us again.”

“He is…progressing.” He stepped back, surveying his handiwork. Freshly healed wounds with pinkish scars now curved over her arms, shoulders, and back. “Try to finish this mission in one piece, Angel; will you do that for me?”

She gave him a quick hug. “Thanks, Rafe.” The air sparkled around her as she began to fade away, leaving the lasting impression of her impertinent grin. “And you worry too much, ya know?”

“Hmmffffttt! If I did not worry, and constantly watch over you, who would?”

The last few energy sparks had just faded when a quiet voice interrupted Raphael’s introspection. “Was that Aleilah?”

The Archangel tried to hide his surprise, and satisfaction, at the unexpected question. He turned, smiling at the warrior. “Yes; she needed some repairs.” He was less successful, however, at concealing his concern over Mihdael’s appearance.

Not only did Mihdael persist in wearing one of the Healer’s long, hooded robes, but the Warrior still retained his Dark Angel image; an image at variance with his true nature.

“Is she well?”

“About as well as you are.”

“It has been…a very long time since I last saw her.” A deep sorrow glinted in the Warrior’s steel blue eyes. “Although she is not allowed to communicate with me, I was always warmed just by her presence.”

An idea occurred to the Healer, a way to accomplish two purposes at once. Aleilah needed to learn some form of self-defense; Mihdael needed to concentrate on something other than his current situation. With careful planning, they could help each other out.

“I had thought to ask Michael to train her in the basics of self-defense,” Raphael began in an off-handed way. He knew of the less-than-satisfactory meeting between Mihdael and Michael from Uriel; and he gambled that Mihdael would not want Michael to be the one to teach her.

The warrior remained silent, a troubled expression on his face.

“Do you not agree? After all, Michael trained you…”

“Exactly. Which is why I think it would be best that someone else teach her. Michael can be very exacting, and critical.”

“Liftheon, perhaps? He would be willing, and they are very good friends. He would not be so demanding of her.”

“No, he would not; but it would be like a game to them. She would not take such lessons from him seriously.”

“Who would you suggest?”

“Asiriel is patient, yet persistent--but he is guarding the Outer Regions. Kahiel or Laviel… no, they are assigned to the Thrones at the moment… Matafiel has trained several of his bowmen; however, he is guarding the Dark Universe… Adriel would be--no, he is patrolling the Outer Rim…” his voice trailed off.

The Healer tried to keep the pleased smile off his face--not only was Mihdael beginning to think outside of his own frame of reference, but to know where and what the other Warriors were doing was a positive sign. He just needed a bit more motivation. “It seems most of the warriors are either on assignment or unavailable. Perhaps I should--”

“No disrespect intended, Raphael, but thou art too much like Liftheon. It would turn into a game, and you would become exasperated with her.”

“You seem to know her well. At least, well enough to be aware of what she needs to learn. Are you volunteering?” The Archangel waited, hoping he hadn’t been too quick or too obvious.

A surprised expression crossed the warrior’s drawn features; and he seemed at a loss for an answer. “I… would not be able to do so,” he finally found the words.

“How so?” Raphael frowned. It wasn’t like Mihdael to doubt his abilities. “You are the best Warrior in Michael’s army; and you have an innate--and enviable--talent for relating to others on a common level.”

“God has forbidden the Angelic Host--with the exception of yourself and Michael--to interact with me in any way. She would not be allowed to speak to me, or even remain in my presence.” The deeply felt pain and sorrow returned--in his dark eyes, his tone, his very attitude; more so now than before. The separation from the Angelic Host had been difficult for him before, but now… “How am I to train her under such conditions?”

“If I could have an exception made in this instance, would you agree to her training?”

“To be able to communicate with any angel once more, I would agree to run naked through the streets of Heaven.” Although he didn’t smile, his somber mood lightened.

“That might be entertaining, but I do not believe it will be necessary,” Raphael said, smiling broadly. This was the first instance Mihdael had given of being interested in anything outside of his own immediate problems. Not only would he ask God that the ‘non-communication’ ban be lifted from Aleilah, but from Liftheon as well. Mihdael needed the companionship of his fellow angels if he was to heal emotionally as well as physically.

“Then, yes, I would agree to train her in basic self-defense. If she also agrees.”

“I would not be concerned about that. She will no doubt be willing to add any expertise to her repertoire of talents.

“Her current mission will be finished soon, and I will petition God on her behalf that you be allowed to train her.”

A bit of sparkle returned to the blue eyes, “I think I would enjoy that, Healer.”

II

Archangel Raphael, Prince of the Cherubim and one of the Seven Archangels who stood in the Presence of God, sometimes felt quite powerless. As the Angel of Healing, he felt personally responsible for the well-being--spiritual, emotional, and physical--of all the Host of Heaven. His healing powers were second only to God; and as the preceptor Angel of many of Mankind’s great leaders of the Biblical world, he had a deep and vast understanding of the emotional and mental state, and how one’s perceptions of oneself, and of others, could not only influence, but dictate and define, one’s relationships.

Knowing that was one thing; being able to implement such knowledge was something else altogether.

Raphael fully understood Archangel Michael’s misgivings concerning his Second-in-Command; and he fully understood Mihdael’s reactions to the Archangel. He could counsel both, but could not ensure that such counsel would be accepted and acted upon. But Mihdael was too valuable to lose to the depths of depression, and he could not pull out of it on his own. Aleilah had become a very necessary part of Heaven, and he did not want to risk losing her to an overzealous demon or minion.

God had agreed to his request, but only for the duration of Aleilah’s training.

The Healer smiled to himself. Aleilah had been, from the moment of her creation, a unique and unparalleled experience. His gentle smile became a broad grin, then outright laughter at the memory of Michael’s first vision of her…

She had been created shortly after his visit to Noah, to deliver to the Patriarch the Sefer Noah, and to provide his aid to the rebirth of the Earth. And the newly ‘created’ Earth was a renewal in more ways than one--a new Angel was to be created as well. He had been surprised that God had sought him out for suggestions, and pleased that those suggestions had been taken to heart--His Heart.

This new Angel would be very different from the rest of the Heavenly Host. This Angel would mediate disputes among the Choirs; this Angel would bring youth and enthusiasm to the rank and file; this Angel would be… female.

There had been considerable give and take on how she would ultimately appear; but the Healer was more than pleased at her gentle, petite appearance that belied a core of steel determination.

That she had chosen to manifest as a young female child enchanted him from the beginning. None of the Heavenly Host had ever experienced a youthful Angel; and very few of them knew how to deal with one...or wanted to. She could have manifested as an adult; she even could have manifested as a male, or at the very least a big, raw-boned Amazon type. But that was not Aleilah.

God had presented her to the Heavenly Host in a special ceremony just for her. She was a beautiful, delicate creation, newly formed and untried; innocent in thought and spirit. Her title as Angel of Arbitration fit her well, and suited her curious, free-willed nature.

She was far wiser than any of them knew, or gave her credit for, at first. In her role as mediator, the older, more powerful Host would have been on their guard against another male Angel, or even an adult female; but to see a young female child before them, willing to listen and advise with a wisdom born of God… that was different. They made allowances for her, and in so doing, made allowances for themselves.

The mid-to-lower Choirs viewed her as completely neutral, and therefore willing to listen to her advice.

And the Angels and the Warriors saw her almost as a kindred spirit--youthful, full of fun and a zest for life. The Angels welcomed her among them, and the Warriors practically adopted her.

At first, before Michael made a difference…

The Archangel had been absent during her presentation. Away on a mission of routing demons in some far-off dimension, by the time he had returned to Heaven the Earth had orbited its Sun many times. He was totally unaware of the new member of the Heavenly Host, and God had not brought him up to date.

The Healer had made it a point to be nearby when she literally ran into the Army’s Commander in Eden; he would not have missed that event for all the wine in Heaven. Never had he seen such an astounded expression on the face of an Archangel; and traces of that first impression still lingered on Michael’s stern features.

And then the subtle change occurred. All the Heavenly Host--either consciously or not--had a tendency to take their cues from Michael. A young female child-Angel was something so far outside of his experience, that he had no idea how to deal with her. Michael made the first mistake of telling her how she should appear, the second mistake of telling her how she should behave, and the third mistake of not realizing he had made the first two.

Raphael frowned a bit at how fast those few errors in judgment had precipitated so many unfortunate events. He was never certain how it had happened. There didn’t seem to be any one event where he could point to it, and say with any degree of confidence: ‘There, that is where it started.’ He only knew that it had happened, and Aleilah had very nearly been lost to them forever.

The faint strains of the viola came to him, and Raphael was not at all pleased that the notes were as mournful and depressing as ever. They were so much alike, he realized with a start.

Before Aleilah, Mihdael had been the youngest Angel in Heaven…

Before Aleilah, Mihdael had been the smallest Angel in Heaven…

And before Aleilah, Mihdael had been the most misunderstood Angel in Heaven.

And like Aleilah, he had been created to the limits of perfection and purity; he had been granted Free Will to make the decisions that would affect his entire existence.

Raphael hadn’t been involved in Mihdael’s creation, and the Warrior’s initiation into the Heavenly Host had been more or less a matter of course. He served as Michael’s Second-in-Command--pretty much cut and dried in and of itself.

Mihdael had brought youth and a vigorous vitality to the staid Army, had discovered the wonders of Creation and Eden outside of his station as Warrior, and had incurred his Commander’s displeasure more than once. It wasn’t that Mihdael intentionally did anything to embarrass, or irritate, or mortify the Archangel--it just seemed to turn out that way.

And he was courageous to the point of foolhardiness; Raphael knew of no other Angel--not even Uriel--who would stand up to Michael as Mihdael had done. The Warrior never hesitated to question the Archangel’s orders if he thought those orders were inappropriate or too severe; and he did so with respect, with never a hint of insolence. He bore Michael’s ill-humor with patience worthy of a saint, and weathered his Commander’s temper with good humor in most cases, and with shield to sword in a rare few cases.

Until Michael made a mistake, the first of many concerning Mihdael.

And nearly cost the Warrior everything he had and everything he was.

Yet through it all, Mihdael remained forgiving and loyal--until recently. Raphael had never realized the full extent of Michael’s actions until he had attempted to heal Mihdael after the Archangel had ‘rescued’ him from Hell. And even then, Mihdael defended him; but he had his limits, and the Healer was fearful that the Warrior was fast reaching his limit with Michael.

The situation with Michael and Aleilah was very similar--albeit with one important exception. But the results were very nearly the same, and Raphael determined that Michael’s history with Mihdael would not repeat itself with Aleilah.

He had decided, after considerable meditation, to simply tell Liftheon and Aleilah that Mihdael would be training her in basic self-defense, that it was a form of therapy for him to get him ‘back on track’, and then rely on the close bond between the two warriors and the guardian to see them all through it--successfully.

Mihdael’s problem was short-term and specific; Aleilah’s was constant, and, well, nebulous. They could, however, help each other to some extent; their major problems stemmed from the same source, and they would be able to find strength in each other.

And then, Raphael promised himself, he’d deal with the Archangel responsible for it all.

III

“Raaaafe…”

As she called out, Aleilah leaned into the elegant, open archway to Raphael’s earthbound retreat. The Healer’s aerie soared into the Heavens as all other aeries, but his retreat was the only angel ‘residence’ that was on the ground. “Rafe, we are her--” she broke off suddenly.

“Theo, stop that!” She slapped playfully at the dark Angel’s large hand. “You know I hate that!” She sent AngelFire over her coverts and arches, smoothing down the small, gently glowing feathers that he had brushed backward.

“I know,” he grinned at her, “but you look adorable with your feathers all ruffed out--and you have such a cute vexed expression.”

“Cute? I will give you cute!” She managed a half-way convincing look of anger, and her delicate wings lifted her to his eye-level. Pale green AngelFire flashed from her slim hands, arced around Liftheon’s mass of blue-black curls, and frizzed them out until he looked like a dark, over-blown Dandelion. She giggled at him. “Now, that is cute!”

The Archangel entered the foyer at that moment, smiling in spite of himself. He arched a red eyebrow at the Warrior. “Is that a new look for you, Liftheon? You appear to be trapped in an energy field.”

“Ah, I am trapped by this one’s quirky humor!” The ready grin flashed again, and his hair returned to normal with a quick surge of his own AngelFire.

Aleilah looked to the Healer, her eyes large and plaintive. “He was picking on me again, Rafe.”

“‘Again’, Leea? I would say ‘always’,” he smiled warmly at both of them.

“Anyway,” she said, and shoved Liftheon in the side with mock roughness. He laughed lightly as she strode past him as though he wasn't there. She entered the retreat ahead of him, tossing her head back haughtily and proclaiming, “You wanted to see me about something?”

The Healer nodded as they entered. Indicating for them to follow, he crossed the foyer to the side garden. “Actually, I have two reasons for asking you here…”

Aleilah settled lightly on one end of a green marble bench and Liftheon placed a foot on the other end, resting an arm across his bent knee. She looked over at her brother and gave him a devastating, flirtatious smile, indicating that all was well, and he smiled back appreciatively. No further words were necessary, as usual.

Raphael stood before them, contemplating his words; and his amused expression faded. “First, both of you are aware that Mihdael is still recovering here at my Retreat?”

“Yes.” They answered together, and Aleilah added, “He is all right, is he not? You have not called us here because he is--”

“No, no, he is progressing…”

“That is what you told me last time I was here; and that was quite a while ago. A Healing should not take this long, should it?”

“Normally, no; but this is not a normal Healing.”

*** *** ***
Liftheon and Aleilah had been the easier task.

Now, all he had to do was speak with Michael.

“I do not want you to place undue stress upon him.” The Healer’s tone left no room for argument.

“‘Undue stress?’ He is an Angel; such does not apply to Angels.”

Raphael gave his brother Archangel a narrow-eyed look. “Michael… in other words: Allow Mihdael to train Aleilah as he sees fit.

“DO NOT,” he added sternly, “circumvent my proposal for Liftheon and Aleilah to aid in his recovery by replacing him as Aleilah’s instructor. God has agreed to my plan, and has allowed both Liftheon and Aleilah to interact with Mihdael for the duration of her training.”

“I have no objection to that; it could very well be the motivation that Mihdael needs in order to re-claim his post in Heaven. He will not accept such aid from me, but I am certain--as you are--that Liftheon and Aleilah will be able to accomplish what we cannot.

“My only misgiving is that Mihdael has no experience training other Angels. It is an exacting responsibility, and requires discipline from both parties. Ordinarily, Mihdael would be very patient and persistent with her; but now his mental and emotional state is somewhat suspect--else, you would not have considered such a ploy. I fear he will be either too lenient with her; or worse, that his frayed nerves will give way to his temper, and he will be too harsh with her.”

“Michael…” Raphael refrained from another frustrated sigh. “She is quite aware of Mihdael’s emotional state, and it is the closeness that she shares with him that will enable her to deal with any situation. And she is not a fragile thing of porcelain; after all,” he grinned suddenly, “She has weathered your tempestuous tirades quite well. What could Mihdael say, or do, to even equal your mildest diatribe?”

“Nevertheless, I intend to monitor her training; and I will intercede if necessary.”

“Just make certain,” Raphael cautioned, “that it is necessary.”

IV
“Now, pay attention, Leea,” Mihdael indicated how to assume a defensive stance. “It is important that you understand everything I tell you.”

“Yes, Michael,” she giggled.

“That is not a good start,” he said severely, but with an amused smile.

They stood alone on one of the practice fields just outside of Eden. Mihdael had dispensed with Raphael’s long robes, and was wearing a basic tunic and light armor. Not his own personal armor, but the grayish, unadorned practice armor. Aleilah wore only a short-sleeved, white tunic. As she did not wear any type of armor in her normal duties as the Angel of Arbitration, she would be trained as such.

The warrior was glad, for the first time since the Decree was proclaimed, that the Heavenly Hosts were not allowed around him. He did not want Aleilah training before an audience of angels, especially the Cherubim Archangels.

“Okay, Mihdael. What do I do first?”

“First, know your own abilities and limitations. Never let the enemy know you have any weaknesses or limitations.”

“I fear my limitation is very obvious.”

“And what is that, Little One?”

“Exactly what you said. My size. I am much smaller and shorter than everyone else.”

“Do not take that as a limitation. Am I as big and tall as the other warriors?”

“Well, no…” She gazed up at him, undaunted; he stood a head taller than she did. She could never see the ‘prideful nature’ that the Cherubim continually accused him of having; and she found a kindred soul with Mihdael as they shared the disapproval of the elitist Cherubim Archangels. Although he was the shortest warrior in the Heavenly Army, his self-confidence was legend, and not even the armor could conceal the power in his muscular frame. “But--”

“No; no excuses, not for anything. My smaller size and shorter height has been an advantage for me more than a disadvantage. It will be so for you as well.”

“You, and Liftheon, and Michael…and all the other warriors--you make it look so easy; so…simple. You move effortlessly, and with unnerving calmness and precision.

“How could I ever hope to learn such exact techniques, when I cannot even perform a simple back-flip without landing on my as-- er, rear?”

Mihdael smiled at her plaintive tone, and placed a large hand on her shoulder. “Such is true, Little One; the Warriors were created to be expert fighters. But you have abilities that not even the most seasoned Warrior possesses; and those are the abilities that we will hone to perfection.”

She looked up at her taller brother, eyes wide. “What abilities, Mihdael? Tell me.” Aside from Liftheon, Mihdael was the only other warrior--or angel for that matter--who accepted her as she was, and never belittled her. No matter what image she chose, or how she behaved, or when she was less than ‘Angelic’ in temperament, he never became angry or frustrated with her.

“First, you have the inherent aspect of innocence, of one unaccustomed to warfare--”

“Well, that is true. My battles are more verbal than physical.”

“Exactly, and that will give you the upper hand at the start. The enemy will not be expecting you to match them.”

“And they are right; I have the bruises to prove it.”

“Second,” Mihdael continued, “as I mentioned before: your size. You will be able to out-maneuver your opponent. That, combined with speed and agility, will give you the edge you need over your larger, heavier opponents. You will have your enemy on the ground, your sword at his throat, before he is even aware of what has happened.”

“You certainly know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” She grinned at him, and was rewarded with a faint smile. It wasn’t the dazzling smile she was accustomed to seeing, but it was a start.

She knew only the bare basics of what the rest of the angels in Heaven already knew about Mihdael’s recent sojourn in Hell. Raphael had respected the warrior’s privacy, and had not given her any details of Mihdael’s ordeals in Satan’s domain. But she only had to look at him--and the image he now wore did not fool her--and listen to him, to know how devastating it had been for him.

Deep down, she really didn’t relish the thought of being trained to kill. However, she wanted to help alleviate her brother’s internal pain, and if Raphael believed that this would help Mihdael to cope, then she would do it.

“The warriors are always given the choice of weapons. Do you have a preference, Aleilah?”

“Welll…” She considered for a moment. “I don’t want anything too obvious. So the lance and longbow are out; but a sword would be too large and cumbersome for me, too.” She gave him an impish look. “You recall what happened the time I tried to even lift your sword, much less use it defensively.”

He did laugh this time, an amused chuckle at the memory. “Yes, but you must remember, my sword is attuned to my spirit; it is meant for me and no other. Just as your weapon will be attuned to your spirit by God--once your training is completed.”

“Something smaller than a sword,” she mused, “that can be easily concealed, or go unnoticed. A small dagger?”

Mihdael nodded thoughtfully. “I recall Liftheon suggesting the same thing. But not too small; it must still be effective.”

Aleilah watched as the air between them shimmered, and a dagger--its blade the length of her forearm--appeared. It was composed of a dull, grayish metal; a practice weapon only. Another weapon appeared next to it: a gray metallic sword. Mihdael took the sword, and gave the dagger to her.

“These are for practice only, Leea; the blades can cut, but you will feel no pain. The injuries will heal almost immediately, but you will know where your weakness lies.

“Learn your weaknesses first, and your strengths will follow…”

V
“Mihdael, I would speak with you…”

“As you will, Commander,” the warrior responded off-handedly. He’d been expecting the Archangel to intervene at some point, but not this soon.

“Raphael has informed me that you have taken upon yourself the matter of Aleilah’s combat training.”

“It is hardly ‘combat training’; I have agreed to instruct her on basic self-defense.”

“I have given the matter some thought, and--”

“No.”

Michael looked at him, surprised. The Archangel still could not reconcile this dark-haired, black-winged, bronzed-skinned angel as Mihdael; it was too disconcerting. He had hoped that he had made it clear at their last conversation that such drastic measures were not necessary--or even wanted. Apparently, the warrior disagreed. “As Commander, it is my prerogative to oversee any type of warrior training for the Angels.”

“I have no objection to your ‘overseeing’ her training; however, she is not a warrior, and will not be trained as such.”

“That is a point I would like to discuss with you--”

“No.”

Michael bristled, unaccustomed to hearing that word twice in a lifetime, much less twice in as many minutes. “Might I remind you that--”

“Commander, unless you plan on supplanting me as her instructor, there is nothing else you need say to me.”

As Raphael had been very clear on that particular point, the Archangel resisted saying what he wanted to say. Raphael’s instructions and his own memories of the whip of Hellfire burning and tearing through Mihdael’s back and shoulders--done so only because the Archangel himself had enabled it--kept his temper in check. “You have never trained any of the warriors… or angels. You would find my advice helpful.”

“I need only to choose the part of my training as applies to her in her job as Guardian. As she is usually in human form, and on Earth in that capacity, I am training her in her human form. She will be able to defend against any human adversary, and against most inhuman ones. I will also teach her how to be more aggressive, and to head off an attack before it actually occurs.”

Michael nodded. “That is a well considered plan, as far as it goes…” The Archangel brushed by, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone; re-establishing the status quo was the only way he knew how to deal with the situation between himself and Mihdael.

“Aleilah has no idea of physical discipline, and while her mental capacities are well-suited to her duties, they will not lend themselves to defensive training as they are. She will need a firm hand to keep her focused on her goals, and stern guidance to keep her on track to her objective.

“You cannot be lenient with her, and still expect her to react with proper self-discipline. She will need her reflexes honed to lightning swiftness until her fighting skills are the equal of any threat she may face.”

“For one who has given her very little attention, and even less of your time, since her creation, you now know what she needs?” Mihdael didn’t wait for an answer, “Aleilah has been very diligent and attentive thus far; she recognizes the importance of her training. She has, in my opinion, done quite well.”

“She will still require an unwavering, steadfast attitude that will brook no lighthearted, less than serious, response from her. Or worse, encourage such a response.”

Mihdael finally exhausted what little patience he had left. “Do you doubt my ability to train her properly?” The last thing he needed at this point was his Commander’s continuing doubt and mistrust of his judgment. Why couldn’t he just say ‘Let me know if you need any help or advice; otherwise, carry on…’? Was that so difficult for the Archangel, to express any degree of confidence in him? Apparently, it was…

“You have no experience as such. It is not a sign of weakness to accept suggestions from a more experienced--”

“Understand this, Commander: I do not want your suggestions!” So be it, then. If Michael wanted to continue to be a stubborn ass, fine; that did not mean he had to suffer it. “I do not even want your presence at any point during her training.”

“Understood, Warrior. Be aware, also, that I will intervene at any time and place that I deem such intervention to be necessary.” The huge, emerald wings extended, preparatory to flight. “And be aware, also, of your place, Warrior.” With that, the wings swept him aloft.

Mihdael seethed inwardly; he recognized a threat--no, an intention--when he heard it. The anger coursed through him, with no one or nothing to vent it upon. He knew he would have to calm down; he was on his way to Aleilah’s next lesson.

He had hardly reached the training area when he heard the clash of swords. Frowning, he banked, braking quickly when he recognized Aleilah and Liftheon sparring. No, not sparring. Playing… Doing exactly what he had so vehemently denied, and Michael had insisted would occur.

His simmering anger boiled over, anger he would not have felt, much less given into, prior to his descent into Hell. The moment he touched the ground, he shoved Liftheon aside, out of his way, neither speaking nor looking at his Second-in-Command. Liftheon stared at him, too startled to react. Aleilah was fooling around, laughing; Mihdael easily blocked the downward thrust of her dagger.

Mihdael grabbed her chin in his hand roughly, Aleilah's exuberance letting his anger get the better of him. His grip wasn’t enough to be painful, but she couldn’t move. She stared up at him, frozen with shock. Not so much because he was a threatening force, but because he was apparently about to use that force on her.

“Do you think this is a game, Aleilah? Do you think you will survive a battle with a light heart that is quick to laugh?" His voice grew dark, like his skin, and she wasn't sure how to answer him.

Liftheon came forward, teeth clenched and weapon glowing. He knew that to challenge Mihdael would be hazardous--especially in his current state of mind--but he was handling Aleilah in a way that made his Angelic blood boil. "Release your hold on our sister, Mihdael. Else you shall tangle with my blade, instead of her small dagger." To blazes with Raphael’s cautions; enough was enough, and in this case, too much.

Mihdael looked up at him, away from Aleilah's eyes. She watched him, seeing the dark anger brewing in his face. She felt the energy from Liftheon's blade near her back as he stepped closer to Mihdael.

"I said, let her go." The big warrior’s tone boded trouble, and she realized neither would back down from a fight.

Aleilah knew she was in no danger from Mihdael. She sensed a deep concern underlying his actions, and any anger he felt wasn’t directed at her. It was directed inward, where it simmered and boiled, seeking any release before it consumed him. She would have to defuse this situation somehow.

Briefly, with one hand behind her back, she indicated with quick, short waves for Liftheon to back away. He glanced at it, but chose only to stay still, rather than move in either direction.

Mihdael’s dark brows drew together over angry eyes, and he was about to respond to the ebony Angel, when he felt Aleilah's small hand on his forearm. It did not grip him tightly as if to push him off. It did not grip him at all; it rested there, a light, calming touch. She looked deeply into his eyes, and he saw that hers held no fear.

"What vexes thee, my brother?"

Her voice was gentle and kind, almost undetectable. Even as such, it went screaming though his head with the silence that had befallen the trio. Her words sent reverberations of guilt though his very soul, for he knew he was forgiven before he was even accused. And his actions had been worse than unwarranted, they had been unjustifiable. Perhaps Michael had been right to question his competency.

Mihdael released her immediately, and he stared down at his hand, perplexed and saddened. His anger drained away, quenched by an ice-cold wave of humiliation. What was he doing? He had never reacted with violence to Aleilah’s playful nature; he had never laid a hand on her with anything other than affection and good-will. She had done nothing wrong; she wasn’t involved with any lessons, she was being her usual light-hearted self with her favorite brother Angel.

He fell to his knees before her, head bowed and gaze cast down. "Please forgive me, Little One… Never would I harm thee, not in any way…"

Aleilah smiled and stroked his hair. There is nothing to forgive, Angel."

“I apologize for my anger--”

“Anger? I saw no anger, only your concern. You reacted as your heart told you to, in a way that would get my attention. Should I fault you for that?”

He looked up at her face. Her eyes were shining with tears but she was still smiling. "Are you certain? Do you still want me to finish your training? I will not blame you if you say no."

"Nonsense," she said, a hint of humor in her voice. "Given the choices I have for a teacher, you are the only suitable one."

Liftheon 'hmpfed' his disapproval behind her, and re-sheathed his weapon.

Ignoring the slighted warrior, she placed a hand to Mihdael’s cheek and caressed it gently. "Think of how I shall turn out if Michael or Liftheon instructs me, hmm?"

Liftheon waved his arms in the air and walked away, grumbling. “Females… angel, mortal, demon. Impossible to understand!”

Mihdael stared into her vivid green eyes, seeing nothing but love. "Thank you, Angel. It will be my honor to continue your training."

She bade him to stand up, and he walked over to Liftheon, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I am sorry, Liftheon. It was unforgivable of me to speak to her thusly. You were right to intervene."

Liftheon, still a little put off by her comments even though he knew they were in jest, looked back at him and spoke in a gruff tone. "Just do not allow it to happen again, and I will not have to gut you." He gave Mihdael a teasing, sardonic smile and sat down out of the way of her lesson.

Conscious of Liftheon’s watchful eye, Mihdael picked up where they had left off: one-on-one defensive tactics. As he was training her to defend herself while in human form, both of them dispensed with their wings and faced each other in completely mortal form. Aleilah’s natural agility served her well, only her tendency to neglect the finer points of defense tripped her up occasionally.

“Aleilah! Do not leave yourself open like that! Keep your weapon closer to your body, until you know which angle to strike. Make yourself as small a target as possible; do not attack full on, turn your body sideways to your opponent--make him come to you…” Mihdael indicated for her to stop, then demonstrated the stance.

“That is awkward for me, Mihdael; I feel like a crab…”

“Better than feeling like a corpse. It will become natural for you with practice.”

“If I make my opponent come to me, as you suggested, then he will strike first as his sword or weapon will most likely have a longer reach. How am I to defend against that?”

“Easier than you might think, Little One.” He turned to the dark warrior watching them. “Liftheon, would you care to aid me in showing her how it is done?”

He tossed Liftheon his practice sword, and Aleilah gave him her practice dagger. “But, Mihdael, it is an even smaller weapon for you…”

“Do not be troubled by it, Leea; I am not.”

“Hah! You will be!” Liftheon took up the role of aggressor with quick eagerness.

Mihdael smiled at Aleilah. “Over-confidence,” he jerked a thumb at Liftheon, “nails them every time.”

As Mihdael’s back was partially to Liftheon as he spoke to her, the other warrior lunged forward, without warning. Startled, Aleilah instinctively jerked back, but Mihdael turned sharply on his heel, turning his body sideways as he had shown her. The practice sword thrust past him, and he brought the hilt of the dagger down hard on Liftheon’s arm.

“It could just as easily have been the blade; in which case, my Second would be temporarily minus an arm.”

Even as he spoke, Mihdael ducked under Liftheon’s second thrust, and slammed the dagger’s hilt against the warrior’s side, where the armor joined. “Again, the blade would have penetrated enough for a disabling wound. I would either finish him off or run.

“I suggest that you run.”

She watched, wide-eyed, as they performed a few more exercises; and Mihdael expertly blocked, countered, and turned his defensive tactics into offensive ones. Aleilah knew that Liftheon gave it his all; the dark angel did not hold back. Mihdael was simply the better warrior of the two, and she voiced this observation.

“Okay, Angels, it seems to me rather obvious that since Mihdael is second only to Michael in fighting skills, he would have no trouble countering Liftheon’s attacks.

“Would it not be a more equitable demonstration for Liftheon to counter your attacks, Mihdael?”

“You no longer perceive my smaller size to be a disadvantage, Leea?” There was a smile, at least, in his eyes.

“For you? No, not any more.”

“Such is half the battle.” He and Liftheon exchanged weapons. “Now, you will see how well Liftheon can defend against a stronger opponent.”

“It is well you said ‘stronger’ and not ‘more skillful’, Mihdael.” Liftheon smiled widely at him.

Mihdael shrugged. “The ‘more skillful’ was simply understood…” And he swung the sword toward Liftheon’s chest--quite a large target.

Liftheon countered, quick and expert, the dagger’s blade striking against the sword at the next-to-last possible moment. Mihdael used the momentum to complete the downward arc, and then disengaged to strike again.

Despite the fact that she found it disquieting to see her beloved brothers hacking away at each other with such determination, Aleilah was nonetheless awed by their display of skill. She watched, fascinated in spite of herself, as the blades clashed and clanged, as Liftheon managed to deflect or counter most of Mihdael’s attacks.

She also noted--but would never mention--that Liftheon did not score any strikets against Mihdael--and not because he wasn’t trying to.

They broke apart, finally, and Mihdael indicated that the session was over. “You see, Aleilah? Liftheon had ample opportunity to counter, strike, and retreat, if he had chosen to do so.

“Your goal will be to counter and retreat. You are not to fight to the end unless there is absolutely no other option.”

“Do not worry; I do not mind the hit and run strategy.” She went over to the dark Warrior. “Liftheon, you were… just amazing! No one could fight like you just did!”

Liftheon’s shoulders straightened, and, with a broad smile, he returned to the sidelines to watch the rest of her lesson.

“All right, Aleilah; try again…”

They exchanged weapons, and Mihdael attacked. She countered, fumbled, recovered; but not before the edge of the sword grazed her upper arm. The superficial wound healed quickly, and she sighed, “I am sorry, Mihdael; I put too much into the first parry, leaving no time to counter your return arc.”

Mihdael nodded, pleased. “As you have recognized your error, it negates your mistake. Learn from it, Leea,” he paused at her downcast expression, then continued in an encouraging tone. “Just as I learn something new every time I practice with Liftheon or Michael. Training is practice, and gaining skill and self-confidence through the mistakes we make. Trust me, I have made my share of mistakes… probably more.” That got a smile from her.

And a loud guffaw from Liftheon. “So that is how you achieved such a high intellect and ability--from all of your mistakes…!”

Mihdael turned on his heel and sent a Superior Officer’s glare at him. “As you were, Lieutenant.” It didn’t matter that technically he was not Liftheon’s superior officer, the authority was still there.

Liftheon only laughed harder.

Before Mihdael could respond, a muted fluttering of wings intervened and Archangel Michael appeared before them.

“How is the training progressing?”

“Quite well.”

He nodded, not entirely satisfied. “I see. And when will the Angel Aleilah be ready for her First Trial of Combat?”

“The Angel Aleilah is ready right now, Archangel.” She broke in, tired of being ignored.

Mihdael waved her off. “Three more sessions, Commander; and she will be ready for the First Trial. She is an exemplary student.”

“We shall see. Very well, as you were.” The great wings extended, and he was soon lost from sight.

“What was that all about? Why does he care if I’m ‘progressing’ or not?”

“As Commander of the Army, Leea, he oversees all training. He will be checking on us at intervals.”

“ ‘Us’ ?”

“You are not the only one under Michael’s scrutiny.”

“Hmmmm, Mihdael?”

“Yes, Little One?”

“You said ‘First’ Trial. How many Trials are there?”

“Three.”

“All at once?”

“No. Your training will consist of three levels. At the conclusion of each level, your knowledge and skill will be tested against another warrior.”

“Oh. Who?”

“Well, myself, Liftheon, and… probably… Michael.”

“Terrific.”

“Do not worry, Slyph; you will do just fine. Am I not the one training you?”

She smiled up at him weakly, but said nothing.

VI
Michael flew down in a careful arc, towards the point where he sensed Aleilah's presence, as she waited in the rafters of an Earthly music hall for Liftheon. Her warrior brother would not be attending this concert. Michael had ordered him to another dimension to fortify a border post. No matter how temporary or minor the assignment--when Michael spoke, his warriors flew. However, when Liftheon told Michael that he was supposed to have met Aleilah on Earth, he politely asked his Commander to find her and explain his absence.

Michael agreed--a little too quickly, even. And without elaboration.

Apparently Liftheon and Aleilah had been doing this for some time, meeting on Earth for recitals or concerts when their schedules allowed it. And these 'dates' had not stopped, even though her training with Mihdael had begun. Michael knew his ebony warrior and the guardian were the closest of siblings--it was not a thing he discouraged. But he'd meant to get around to asking her how her training had been going with Mihdael, and had never found the right moment. Perhaps he could find an opportunity to inquire without appearing to pry.

Things still remained so complicated with her--at least, when it came to him. It gave him pause, trying to relate to her. Michael knew she could detect how uncomfortable he acted around her. But, thankfully, she was still chalking it up to either him being irritated with her, or referring to him as "His Heavenly Stuffiness". He never liked it when she called him that.

But for now he could hide behind it.

He glided into the music hall, where he heard the concert players warming up their instruments. Aleilah perched on a beam above the stage, watching intently how the humans interacted. She looked up, gazing into the empty air, and spoke aloud to the darkened recesses of the curtains where she felt his presence.

"Michael? Why have you come here? Is Liftheon all right?"

"He is fine, Angel. He had…other duties to attend to. He wanted me to inform you that he will not be meeting with you tonight."

She nodded, and looked down at the orchestra. "I see… that is unfortunate, he was looking forward to this one. They are doing Peter and the Wolf tonight. Jimmy Coburn is to narrate. Should be pretty lively." She looked upset for a moment, then motioned towards Michael at the rafter she sat on. "Will you be joining me, or shall I stretch out?"

He remained where he was, hovering next to her. "What do you normally do?"

"Normally… Liftheon is with me, and one of us winds up resting their head on the other one’s shoulder. I do not think you and I shall be doing that, however." She smiled at him warmly, as though it was an obvious joke. Michael attempted a smile.

He moved in and sat next to her and, unfortunately for him, he had to sit closely. There was not much room on her chosen rafter. Instinctively, his outer wing found its way behind her, and the tip reached out for the railing, balancing itself there. His emerald wing never actually touched her milky-white ones, although it was close.

"Aleilah…this Jimmy…Co-burn? Is he a traveling performer?"

She looked over at him and snickered. The dim light from the stage cast reflections on her face and he found it hard to look away from her nose, and the way it crinkled up, the way her eyes held their mirth. He found her very pleasant to look at, especially when nothing else seemed to do the trick. "No, silly! He is a movie star. Never mind Michael," she snorted, anticipating his next question. "You don't wanna know."

The members of the orchestra began settling down, and the conductor came on the stage. The audience applauded politely. James Coburn moved up to the podium, and the lights began to dim. Michael leaned over and whispered a question in her ear. "How goes the training with Mihdael, Little One? Are you making progress?"

She frowned. She wanted to watch a performance, not talk shop with an Archangel. And a stuffy one, to boot. The clapping died away, as the music floated up to the rafters.

"Uh, well… I'll never be a warrior, but I will do okay, I guess. Mihdael is a fine teacher. He is a bit preoccupied as of late, what with all that business in Hell…" Her voice drifted off. It was not something she liked talking about. It made the normally jubilant Angel quite sad. "But he stays focused on my training…mostly…"

Michael frowned. "Mostly? Is there a problem?"

"No. Not really. We had a bit of a row early on, but we cleared it up."

Michael's features darkened for a moment. "He did not hurt you, did he, Angel?"

She turned to look at him, not wanting to get her beloved brother in more trouble than he was already recovering from. But then she smirked, finding the opportunity to startle Michael with some unexpected behavior. And she loved setting him off.

She sighed, straightening out her tunic casually and speaking with a lilt in her voice. "Oh no, no, not at all. Mihdael flew up for my lesson, catching Liftheon and I playing at battle. And you know how we get, we were just having a bit of fun." She grinned, pouring it on. "But he was in a really foul mood for some reason, and he tore me away from the game, scolding me and grabbing my chin thusly."

Then, with lightening-fast movements, she demonstrated, by grabbing the Archangel's chin in her nimble fingers the same way Mihdael had done to her just days earlier. She knew he would not be prepared for such a strong and fast gesture. Her intent was to tease him.

But the effect was… far different. Michael and Aleilah found themselves staring into one another's angelic eyes.

The colors of her eyes swirled about, fresh greens and sparkling aqua mingling with pure Light, reflecting the very essence of God's Love darting about in them.

Michael's eyes also reflected God's presence, with tiny silver bolts streaking through the gray. It was His Power and His Glory, as such the Archangel bestowed upon anyone who happened to look there.

Yet, there was more to be seen. More than either one of them had ever noticed in the other before.

Michael felt compelled to fall into those green pools, wanting to free himself of his worries to her, and never come out. Wanting to share all she was, and would ever be; wanting her with him forever, and unable to bear another second with her. Their tangled past inhibited his thoughts, his actions; and her forgotten memories forbade him to pursue any association other than Angel and Archangel.

And yet…only her touch seemed to affect him so. Brought, unbidden and unwanted, to the surface carefully buried feelings and …desires. Desires he thought too dangerous to express in any manner, especially now. Especially after his involvement with Sera…

Aleilah always felt safe at the sight of God's Strength in Michael’s eyes, sensing, as well as knowing, that nothing in the Universe could harm her when he was near; and yet, it wasn’t his protection she yearned for. She wanted, needed, something deeper, something stronger, something …unAngelic; something she felt he would never share with her, or anyone.

His stoic, uncompromising, and uncomplaining spirit had always intrigued her, and his total devotion to duty and God came before everything and every one else. To hope for the impossible, longing for an indefinable response from him that even she couldn’t name, and now demanded fulfillment, presented a contradiction she couldn’t understand or manage.

Although they participated in the occasional Joining, it had always been superficial--Michael had always held back with Aleilah. And now, at that moment, with him being caught unawares by the simple act of her touching him… She could tell--she knew, just by their gazing at each other--that he was privy to things about her even she did not know.

It frightened her. She had chosen to live without this. And while she could not 'read' it per se, she knew what it was.

It was her lost memories. And he had something to do with them.

She lowered her hand, inhaling sharply, and backed away. "I…I am sorry, Archangel…It was improper for me to touch you in that manner. I was only playing…I--I should not have…I will not--”

Michael shook his head quickly. "No… Angel, it is all right. Do not be upset. No harm was done."

Michael had allowed her to catch him with his defenses down, and now this went and happened--a thing he swore to her, long ago, that he would never let transpire. Had they been Joining, it would have been a complete disaster.

Still, even with his reassurance, she recoiled, uncertain of the reason for her inner turmoil. Her game had gone awry, and now for some reason she felt frightened and confused. She pulled away from him, and hovered off of the rafter.

She blinked, suddenly looking down at the performers below. She knew Peter and the Wolf quite well, and to her astonishment, the concert was already half over. Good Lord! Did we stare at one another for that long? What could possibly…

She trembled before him, and spoke haltingly. "I have to leave, Michael…I--I have to leave now.”

He wanted to stop her, to not allow her to fly off in such an unsettled state. Only the outstretched wing betrayed his feelings. It left the railing and inched towards her, seeking to wrap her in it and calm her fears.

She tilted her head, apprehensive at his silence, and unconsciously transformed into her energy state. For a moment she wavered before his face, then her essence shot off like a rocket and vaulted through the roof, causing the lights in the music hall flicker for a few moments.

The audience and the players paused for a moment, confused. From his podium, James Coburn joked. "Looks like the lighting is only slightly younger than I am, huh?" The audience laughed, and the concert resumed.

Michael never heard his joke, or anything else for that matter. He just stared up at the ceiling, where the remnants of Aleilah's AngelFire danced around in firefly sparks until it dissipated, and faded from his view.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, not knowing what to do about this new problem… not knowing in the least.

VII
“Mihdael, could I speak with you for a moment?”

The warrior faced his Second-in-Command, knowing what Liftheon was going to say. The last lesson of Aleilah’s First Level had just ended, and she had performed quite well. Mihdael had forced himself not to let up on her, or let small errors slide by, uncorrected. Her First Trial was scheduled for the next Light in Eden, and Liftheon had not departed with her when Mihdael dismissed her. “Yes, Liftheon, what do you want to say?”

“While I would not think to question your methods, I am not so certain of your manner. You seemed much too demanding of her during the last few exercises. Her errors were not that serious, and did not warrant such reprimands from you.” The big warrior stood with his arms crossed, determined to see it through.

“I see. And do you suggest that I just ignore such ‘non-serious errors’ because they were minor? Would you ignore them?”

“Of course not. But there are better ways of pointing out her mistakes and correcting them, than--” He broke off, not wanting to get Mihdael angry.

“Than what?”

“Well…blast it all, Mihdael,” he finally threw his hands up in the air. “At times you actually sounded, and acted, like our Commander!”

“You flatter me,” Mihdael answered quietly, without ire. “Now I know I have trained her well. She is ready for her First Trail.”

Liftheon nodded, glad to have avoided a potentially unpleasant scene. “Yes, she did quite well with the last six exercises. Nearly perfect, in fact.

“Have you decided on her first sparring partner?”

A flicker of amusement glinted in Mihdael’s dark blue eyes. “I can think of no better angel than you, Liftheon, for her…first time…” and he smiled.

“Quite so.” Liftheon gave a broad grin.

“And remember, warrior, to take your own advice: be gentle with her.”

The big warrior’s grin faded a bit.

VIII
“Oh, dear, Mihdael. Are you certain I am ready for this?” Aleilah stood alone on the Practice Field, with sword and shield scaled to her small size.

“Of course! It is only Liftheon.” Mihdael grinned, and she sneered in return.

“Only? Only the third best Warrior in Heaven,” she muttered, hefting the sword.

“Stand ready, Aleilah,” Mihdael ordered, moving aside as Liftheon appeared.

The big warrior stood, strong and silent, at the far end of the field.

Mihdael stood between the two Angels; he withdrew his own sword, and raised it high. “Angel Aleilah, Angel Warrior Liftheon, approach and stand ready for Aleilah’s First Trial of Combat. As Aleilah is not a Warrior, and her conflicts usually take place on Earth, all physical and natural laws of Earth will apply in her Trials.”

Aleilah straightened, sword and shield at the ready, all business as Liftheon approached and halted several paces from her.

Mihdael’s sword flashed downward. “Begin!”

Liftheon charged. Aleilah side-stepped at the last second, surprised at his speed; twisting, she lashed out at his back with her sword. Her blade struck his shield as he countered her attack, and he followed through with a powerful blow with his shield against hers.

The force sent her backwards, and she landed hard on her backside, her wings fanned full beneath her. She clutched her ankle, face twisted with pain. “Owww! My ankle... it hurts!”

Liftheon hesitated, halting his forward lunge. At that second, Aleilah swept upward, and her sword flashed through his guard, the point against his breastplate. “Gotcha!”

He stared down at the blade, then laughed. “So you have, Little One, so you have!”

Mihdael nodded, “Not quite what I would recommend, Leea, but you scored the winning point.”

All three fell silent and smiles faded as Michael approached, his stern features set in a frown. “As Mihdael has given this match to you, Aleilah, I will not dispute his judgment.

“However, you should not take this as a victory. On the contrary, you counted on Liftheon’s concern for your welfare. Such will not be the case in actual combat. The enemy will have no concern whatsoever for your well being.

“I expect a better demonstration of your expertise at your Second Trial.”

“Nonsense, Michael,” Raphael intervened, his smile still in place. “She did quite well. She sized up her opponent and used his weakness against him.

“Well done, Leea,” the Healer clasped her forearm.

She nodded at him, her troubled gaze remaining on Michael.

IX
Aleilah alighted in the midst of the fragrant garden, her thoughts as uncertain as her steps. Mihdael, Liftheon, and even Raphael, had insisted she had done well on her First Trial--had even surpassed their expectations.

Only Michael had been reserved, and critical. His words had cut deep; not intentionally, she was certain of that--but it seemed that his opinions carried more weight with her than any other Angel or Archangel in Heaven. His disapproval troubled her, and she felt somehow at fault; as if she had failed to achieve a goal he had set for her.

She couldn’t understand it. Why did she even care, anyway? He wasn’t her Commander; she didn’t live or die by his every word… Yet, how she longed for his slightest look of approval; even his simply spoken ‘well done’ would have meant more to her than all the accolades of the Heavenly Host combined. But he had frowned, and the lines had deepened in his strong, handsome features, and his voice had been level and almost a monotone, as if he was doing nothing more than reciting an oft-spoken reprimand.

She sighed… She didn’t even merit a personal reprimand, it seemed; just a re-hash of what his warriors had no doubt heard many times over. She paused at the crystal lake, made a face at her reflection. Did she really want a personal reprimand from him to begin with? She followed the grassy bank toward the waterfall, still lost in thought.

Michael had seemed…different, more open and almost approachable, back on Earth when he had joined her in the rafters overlooking the theatre. But that had been a brief interlude, and a very minor one compared to their long-standing relationship.

Relationship? Did they even have that? She recalled the moment she had asked God to remove her memories of the recent past, and nothing before that. That is, not between 1730 to a few months ago; before 1730, she could recall quite well Michael’s indifference towards her.

But recently, he seemed to be everywhere she looked. Especially after she had abandoned her child-like image in favor of a fully formed female of twenty-two Earth years. His indifference had subtly changed as well; but she wasn’t sure what it had changed to. And she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. He seemed more involved with her life, her work, than he had ever been; and at the same time, more distant.

She wanted to scream in frustration. What was wrong with him, anyway???

Or… what was wrong with her?

*** *** ***
From the opposite side of the lake, another Angel sought the soothing tranquility of Eden’s garden to calm his thoughts. It was hopeless. He knew it was hopeless; he just had to admit it, deal with it, and try to get past it.

The dark wings folded over his back, and he clasped his hands behind him as his somber gaze lowered to the flower-bordered pathway. Lost in though, he followed the pathway as he reviewed his options.

He could continue, or give over Aleilah’s training to someone else. That idea brought an immediate rejection, for he knew the ‘someone else’ would be Michael.

He could finish her training, and ignore the Archangel’s presence. That would work for him, but he doubted if Leea could ignore Michael’s unnerving silver eyes watching, and judging, her every move.

He could ask God to send his overly-critical, judgmental, tactless Commander on an ‘important’ mission; but then he would be admitting that he felt incapable of dealing with the situation. He paused at the crystal lake, made a face at his reflection.

Did he really want to run to Daddy, complaining about his big brother?

Not likely.

That left only one option: He’d have to kill the over-bearing son-of-a--

His dark brooding broke off suddenly as he came around a bend, and saw a very familiar pair of legs extended over the low bank, bare feet dipping idly in the cool water.

*** *** ***
“Mihdael, what did I do that was wrong?”

“Not a thing. And that is why he was upset.”

At her confused look, he laughed quietly, “I suppose that was unfair to Michael, but also quite true. I will explain it to you sometime--as soon as I figure it out for myself.”

“I sometimes wonder,” she mused, “why do we even care?”

“Because, deep down, we know he is right.”

“Well… yes, there is that. But does he have to be so…so obvious about it?”

“Michael has always been open and forthright; it would never occur to him to be otherwise.”

“Sometimes--a lot of times--I’ve found his forthrightness to be very unpleasant.”

He looked down at her forlorn figure, then settled on the bank next to her. “He does not mean to be.” His dark wings flexed slightly, settling onto the ground, the long, black primaries fanned out. “Michael cares about you a great deal; he does not want you to come to any harm. He feels protective towards all of us; it is his nature.”

She leaned against him, a slim arm sliding under his wings, her voice soft. “I have always felt so very comforted by your presence, Mihdael; and completely safe.”

He had to smile at that. “I am glad you gain comfort from me, Little One; but it does not say much for my manly attributes that you feel ‘completely safe’ with me.”

She punched him playfully. “You know what I mean…”

She studied his profile, perfect, strong--so much like Michael. Yet there was something else there, too: a gentleness to his spirit that Michael rarely displayed. Oh, she knew that as Michael’s best warrior, Mihdael could slaughter millions if so ordered by God; but now, at this moment, that aspect of his character was submerged, buried under the guilt and shame that rolled off him in waves. It would not have been so evident to her if she hadn’t been touching him; if she hadn’t allowed herself to be open to him.

The fear came through strongest of all, and that startled her. She’d never seen any of the Angels exhibit fear, and she wondered how, or if, she could ask him about it.

“I sense this, well, gap between you and Michael. And neither of you seen all that interested in bridging it. Your attitude towards him has changed; it’s almost hostile.” She paused, feeling his muscles tense at her words.

“I don’t mean to pry, or make things worse, but... It troubles me, Mihdael, to see the two of you at odds. He needs you, and--”

He interrupted with a snort of derisive laughter. “Michael has never needed me. I was a convenience at best, and a conscience at worst.”

Aleilah gazed up at him with a sad expression, not knowing what to say.

“Forgive me, Little One; my temper gets the better of me at times.”

She nodded vigorously, her smile not quite chasing the sadness from her eyes, and decided to change the subject. “Mihdael, if you could ask anything of Michael, and have it granted, what would it be?”

“That he would trust me once again. And you? What would you ask of him?”

“I would like to know…his innermost heart.”

“Michael is kind, generous, caring--but he has so few opportunities to express those emotions that when such an opportunity does present itself, he does not recognize it.”

“You can still see all those qualities within him?”

“Yes.”

“You still respect him?”

“Yes.”

“…and love him?”

“I would like to change the subject.”

“No fair, Mihdael!” Aleilah pulled back, giving him playful shove. “Avoiding answers won’t help you avoid the problem. And anyway, that’s not like you.”

“You, too, can see those qualities in him, Leea.”

“Yes.”

“Then why do we still find him so--” He broke off, at a loss for the moment.

“Frustrating?”

Laughing, he swept his dark wings around her. “Ahh, Little One, do you think we will survive…?”

“Our enemies, or our friends?”

“Well, we have thus far survived our enemies…”

X
A third party alighted in the center of the Garden, an Archangel who also sought Eden’s calming influence.

Michael’s arrival went unnoticed by Mihdael and Aleilah, although they were only a short distance away, within earshot. Michael heard their voices and hesitated, not wanting to disturb them; their voices came clearly on the cool breeze, and he debated whether to remain or leave.

He had not known they would be here as well; although he halfway expected Mihdael to retreat to either Raphael’s secluded retreat or Eden’s comforting surroundings. Leaving might attract their attention, which he didn’t want at the moment; staying smacked of eavesdropping, yet what could they say in private that could not be said in public? He decided to remain, and was about to block their voices when he heard his name mentioned.

Both self-conscious and curious, he remained until they finished their conversation and departed. He mulled over their words, deeply concerned by them.

And he found himself envious of them.

Not the common ground they had as Angels, or the open exchange of ideas and feelings, not even the closeness they shared. No, none of those qualities bothered him.

It was their shared, companionable laughter that he envied the most.

*** *** ***
Raphael glanced up, surprised, as Michael alighted in the Healer’s garden that bordered his retreat. “Michael, I was not expecting you.”

“Perhaps you were expecting Mihdael, or Aleilah? Or Liftheon? ”

“They do drop by quite often,” Raphael smiled, turning his attention from crystalline flowers to the Army’s Commander. “Is this a social visit, or an official one?”

Not sure how to begin, Michael chose a general topic. “Your strategy for encouraging Mihdael’s recovery appears to be working. He retrieved his personal armor from my aerie, which means he intends to wear it.”

“Were you present at the time?”

“No.”

Raphael nodded, then surmised, “That is not why you are here. Something troubles you.”

“I have...learned some things that trouble me; but I know not how to approach them--”

“By ‘them’, I assume you mean Mihdael and Aleilah?”

“Yes.” Michael strode a few paces away, then stopped, exasperated. “Mihdael is on a hair-trigger, Aleilah is flitting around as if losing her memories of our...past association is of no consequence, and Liftheon is completely oblivious to all of it. And you,” he added, pointing an accusatory finger at Raphael, “have thrown us all together.”

The Healer smiled, not denying it; but not defending his actions, either.

Michael began pacing, needing some sort of physical activity to fuel his thoughts and emotions. “I know I am not in favor with you at the moment, due to my involvement with them.

“I am aware, as you have already pointed out, that I am the source of some of their problems--”

“‘Some’?” Raphael interjected, brows raised.

“Some.” Michael continued smoothly, as if the Healer hadn’t spoken. “I am a military commander, Raphael; I cannot be expected to deal with damaged psyches and bruised egos.

“I have done, and said, all the right things; and in doing so--by being right--I have made the situation much, much worse, almost to the point that it may be irreparable. And that makes no sense, and I cannot fathom it.”

“Logic circuits starting to melt down? Is that it?” Raphael managed to suppress his amusement, but not before Michael saw it.

“I know Aleilah’s problem, but cannot help her, not until God returns her lost memories.

“With Mihdael... Well, I do not know where to start. I know Uriel has told you of our last confrontation, and how it ended on a less than satisfactory note. I am not pleased with the outcome.

“This is not a military exercise, where all I need do is out flank, out maneuver, out think, or out fight the enemy. My...opponents...here are my friends and siblings, and I am in danger of losing them.

“All of my efforts at reconciliation have met with failure, or misunderstanding; I am at a loss, Raphael. So I ask your advice.”

The Healer nodded absently, brow furrowed with thought. “First, I suggest you stop treating them as enemies or opponents. And stop reacting like a military commander. We are angels, and our natures are to understand and forgive.

“Aleilah is learning to cope; and her future is in God’s hands--you will have to abide by that. Not the solution you want, I know, but you will just have to ride it out with her.”

“As for Mihdael, he needs more freedom from you--”

Michael stopped himself from pacing again, and fixed Raphael with an austere look. “He has rejected my offer to reinstate him as my second in command, and refuses to re-join the Army. He ignores my commands most of the time, and challenges them all of the time. How much more freedom should I allow him?”

This time Raphael continued as if Michael had not spoken, “And a few words of praise and support every century or so would not hurt, either. Pull back a bit, and allow him the freedom to act as he wills.

“Keep your counsel unless he asks for it; relinquish your overpowering need to dictate his every thought and action; let him make mistakes.

“And let him know that he is needed.”

“You do not ask for much, Raphael.”

XI
“For your Second Trial, Aleilah, the requirements are different. You will need to out-maneuver your opponent and escape.”

Her green eyes sparkled at him, her tone teasing. “‘Escape’? I thought Warriors killed demons on sight.”

“Warriors, yes; but you are not a Warrior. My main concern is your continued safety and existence. So, you will escape.”

“Okay.”

*** *** ***
A smaller audience gathered for her Second Trial. Liftheon sat close to the practice area, curious to see how Mihdael would fare against a non-warrior opponent. Raphael stood next to him, his somber gaze not on the practice field, but fixed on the tall Archangel directly opposite him, on the other side of the field.

Michael stood, arms crossed and expression unreadable, as he waited for the Second Trial to begin. His brief nod at Mihdael as the warrior entered the battle area earned a salute in return; and his similar acknowledgement to Aleilah received a faint smile.

Mihdael faced Aleilah. He wore his personal armor, tunic, and cloak. His black wings unfurled fully, battle ready. “Angel Aleilah, your Second Trial will consist of defense and escape. You must get past my guard and cross the boundary of the battle area. If I strike you before you reach the boundary, you will fail the Trial.”

Aleilah took in the distance between Mihdael and the bright green outline of the circle encompassing the ‘battlefield’--Mihdael had not made it easy for her. Her speed and agility would be tested to the utmost. She smiled, and nodded. “I understand. I’m ready.”

Mihdael raised his sword, then swept it down. “Begin!”

She feinted and lunged, but Mihdael effectively blocked her; she retreated, and parried his thrust with seconds to spare. Using the momentum to duck under his sword arm, she slashed at his breastplate with her dagger. His shield intervened millimeters from his midsection, deflecting her dagger and throwing her off-balance.

She stumbled back, recovered quickly, and, pulling herself into as small a target as possible, rolled under his slashing sword, and leapt to her feet behind him.

Grabbing his cloak, she threw the folds of material over his head and shoulders; his outstretched wings kept him upright and on balance, but the long, voluminous folds entangled his sword arm and hampered his shield arm.

Leaving him to disentangle himself, Aleilah ran with all her might toward the nearest green boundary line. Ten or fifteen paces from her goal, she heard the quick beat of wings; glancing back, she saw Mihdael flying after her. She watched his sword arm as she ran, and, as his sword descended toward her, she fell to the ground, twisted, and rolled over the boundary line.

The point of the sword struck the green border, the blade embedded half its length, a hairs-breadth from her arm.

She jumped up with a big grin of triumph. “Well? Did I pass?”

Mihdael nodded, returning a faint smile. “You succeeded, Aleilah; marginally, I admit.”

“Very much a borderline victory,” Michael added, not smiling at all. “I hope your training is more applicable for your third trial."

XII
“Aleilah! Pay attention!” Mihdael’s voice was sharp as he brought the practice session to an abrupt halt.

“I’m sorry, Mihdael; but all I can think about is facing Michael at my Third Trial.”

“I am trying to prepare you for that. I know Michael better than anyone; I know his strategies, his skills, and his weakness.”

“‘Weakness’? Michael?” She nearly scoffed at him, but managed a pout instead. “And I notice you used singular and not plural.”

“None of us are perfect, Leea. But... I am not certain if I should reveal his one weakness to you.” He chuckled, “You might not even consider it a weakness.”

She contemplated for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I don’t want any unfair advantage--and does that ever sound weird! Unfair advantage over Michael!” She laughed heartily, amused at that thought. “Imagine, that Archangel having an Achilles’ heel!”

“Well, not his heel...” He smiled with her.

*** *** ***
Only four spectators appeared for Aleilah’s Third Trial: Raphael, Liftheon, and two Angel Warriors. Mihdael didn’t know if this was in deference to her, or just indifference to the outcome.

Michael had arrived first, and waited for them on the Practice Field. His tall, imposing figure did nothing to allay her misgivings.

“Mihdael, are you sure about this? I mean, what if I fail?”

Mihdael shrugged, as they alighted together. “If that happens, then it just means you aren’t at that level of fighting skill. You can choose to continue your training, or accept a Level Two status.”

“Oh...” A nervous giggle escaped, “So, it isn’t like total disgrace and humiliation, and drummed out of the corps, and turn in your wings, or something?”

“No, of course not.” Mihdael indicated the marked off area of the field. “Come on, Michael’s waiting and he just gets grumpy...grumpier when kept waiting.”

*** *** ***
Michael raised his hand as Mihdael lowered his sword to begin the match. “A moment, Mihdael.” The Archangel faced his smaller opponent. “Angel Aleilah, I have considered carefully, and as you were trained to fight in human form while on Earth performing your duties, I have decided to concede to those conditions as well.”

AngelFire sparkled around his form, and his physical appearance altered. When the AngelFire faded, a much shorter, stocky, lightly armored demon-like being stood before her. One pair of greenish, bat-type wings replaced the six wings; rough, scaled skin gleamed blue-green, and long, black hair fell wild and loose around his massive shoulders. An ordinary sword took the place of Michael’s sword, and the sword belt also held a knife. A lance with a blade the length of her forearm completed his armament.

The being spoke with Michael’s voice. “The possibility of attack from demons is a very real danger, and in such cases you will revert to your Angel form to defend against them.

“Therefore, for your Third Trial, you will defend while in your Angel form; and your objective will be to survive the match with no more than three strikes on your person. If you should score a strike on my person at any time during the match, you will win and the Trial will be over.”

“A score against any part of your person?”

“Yes. Do you accept these terms?”

“I accept.”

“Very well.” He nodded to Mihdael, who had retreated to the sidelines. “Continue.”

Mihdael nodded, and as he resumed his position he sent Michael a broad grin and a wink. An acknowledgement, Michael realized, to his own concession to Aleilah. He had not expected that, but it pleased him.

Mihdael raised his sword, then brought it down. “Begin!”
Michael’s bulky demon form lumbered forward, and Aleilah took to the air, arcing over him. The lance sailed after her, the razor edged blade nicking her left primary wing. A severed feather floated to the ground and vanished.
“One, Michael.” Mihdael’s voice rang out.
She banked, flew around him, searching for an opening and finding none. He now held both the knife and sword, and intercepted her line of flight. She blocked the side sweep of his sword, but the knife cut across her forearm.
She pulled back, the cut healing in a flash of AngelFire, as Mihdael’s voice called out from behind her.
“Two, Michael.”
Aleilah retreated, as far back as she could, to the borderline of trees that marked one end of the battlefield perimeter. Michael’s demon form was as inexorable as the Archangel himself; and she watched for the slightest shift of weight or position that would indicate his next move. Even so, his headlong rush came at such speed that she barely avoided it. As she twisted aside, however, her dagger caught the knife’s guard and cut the hilt in two. She turned her momentum into a side kick, her bare foot sinking into Michael’s side and slamming his demon form off-balance and into the tree line.
In the millisecond it took for him to recover, she threw her dagger from a wing’s breadth away. The blade flashed through the air, toward his shoulder. Michael brought the dark wings down, and with half a millisecond to spare, dropped his shoulder and swung his sword.
Michael’s blade missed the dagger, and Aleilah’s dagger missed his shoulder. The sharp, narrow blade thunked into the tree behind him, and Michael lunged forward, sword raised and ready to strike.
Michael’s forward lunge and Aleilah’s instinctive retreat were stopped by Mihdael’s strident voice.
“One, Aleilah! Cease hostilities; the Trial is over, and is awarded to Angel Aleilah.”
Michael halted, surprise evident on his ogre-like features. He looked toward Mihdael, who stood next to the tree where Aleilah’s dagger remained firmly embedded in the thick trunk.
“Over? She did not strike me; she has not yet won.”
Aleilah flew around him, and alighted next to Mihdael. “Did you not, Commander, say that any strike against your person qualified?”
“Yes, but—”
Grinning broadly, she pulled her dagger from the tree and a long lock of black hair fell into her waiting hand. “I believe this is--was-- part of your person.”
Michael blinked, stared, then blinked again. AngelFire swept around him, and he appeared as Archangel once more. The missing lock of hair quickly replaced as well. “That cannot be deemed as a fatal blow, not even a restraining or incapacitating one.”
“She met your spoken requirements, Commander,” Mihdael interceded, frowning. “She has passed her Third Trial.”
Aleilah met Michael’s keen stare unflinchingly, and stood rigid as he approached her. He halted a few steps away, and, to her amazement, gave her a courtly bow.
“My compliments, Angel Aleilah.”
“Uh...um...thank you.”
As he strode past Mihdael, he said quietly, “Continue her training; she is good, but she can be better.”
*** *** ***
A small ceremony followed a short time later; only Raphael, Michael, Liftheon, and Mihdael attended Aleilah’s formal recognition of the completion of her training.
Angel Aleilah, thou hast concluded thy training and met the required levels of proficiency as relates to thy station as Guardian.
“Thank You, Father.”
Mihdael stepped forward, a long, narrow box under one arm. “Angel Aleilah, I would like to present this to you in acknowledgment of your successful completion of your Three Trials.”
Accepting the box, she opened it; with a pleased expression of delight, she withdrew the contents. A dagger formed of intricately wrought gold, the hilt adorned in rubies and emeralds. A delicately beautiful weapon. “Ohhh, Mihdael, it’s fabulous! Thank you!”
She knelt before the Throne, placing the dagger on the marble tiles. God’s Light swirled around the dagger, lifting it into the air before her.
This dagger is now attuned to thy spirit, Angel Sylphia; no being can employ it against thee.
She accepted the dagger in silence, then stood and bowed.
Raphael, thy perceptions have once again proven correct and beneficial. I commend thee.
Raphael acknowledged the praise with a smile.
Mihdael, thou hast performed thy duties well; in return, I will continue to allow Raphael, Michael, Liftheon, and Aleilah to interact freely with thee.
Mihdael knelt. “I thank You, Father.”
He rose, smiling at the others. Both Aleilah and Raphael noted that most of the deep stress lines seemed to have faded from his features.
Now, I have a new assignment for thee, Aleilah.
*** *** ***
Aleilah soared over the remote borders of Heaven with gleeful abandon, glad to have the three Trials over and done with. Although Mihdael had suggested she maintain her training, she had gently resisted, at first, then agreed to consider it.
Details of her new assignment now filled her thoughts, and she flew with no particular destination in mind. A sudden rush of air started her, and she cried out, more surprised than hurt, when something crashed into her in mid-flight.
Recovering, she glanced down at her tunic, at the horizontal tear across her midriff. A pinkish welt of equal length marked the superficial wound, and she ignored it in favor of the more important damage.
“What...? My tunic!” She looked around, anger replacing her astonishment. A large, dark red shape flew past her again, the strong air gusts from long, narrow wings buffeting her. “You tore my tunic, you creep!”
“Sssssooo pretty, Pretty...” the creature hissed, turning to face her. Its hands had three fingers and a thumb that terminated in black claws, the curved edges glinting in the faint sunlight. “Will dissstroooy Pretty, ssssooo Pretty will not tell the Warriooorssss...
“But not too ssssooon; maybe I will play with Pretty. Issss Pretty here all alone?” The thin, serpentine tongue whipped about the gaping, fang infested mouth. The demon grunted, snuffled, and snorted to convey its attempts at seduction. “I might reconssssider, if Pretty issss niccce to me... a sssnuggle, a kisss, a quick--”
“Jerk!” She lunged at it, and the creature swept past her, the talons raking her arm.
Ignoring the wounds, she slashed the demon across its bone ridged back. It screeched, reeled back, and turned a furious glare on her.
“Sssstupid little Angel,” it spat at her, “your death will be sssssslooow...”
“Whatever.” She swerved, avoiding its next attack with millimeters to spare. Then the demon braked, angled wings twisted in mid-flight, performing a maneuver very familiar to her as she had learned it only a short time ago. And not from a demon...
Her brow furrowed a bit; she reversed flight, thinking. The demon, although obnoxious, lewd, and disgusting, had not behaved in a ‘demonic’ manner. At least, not according to past experience.
She smiled to herself, and her wings swept her under the creature, and around it. It followed her, and she flew faster and faster, a whirlwind of motion. It faltered, disorientated, and she struck, plunging the dagger deep into its chest.
As it fell to the ground below, Aleilah followed. It screeched and groaned and flailed the air as it fell; it hit the ground with a heavy thud, and lay, groaning and moaning and generally expiring in a very dramatic, and noisy, way.
She alighted next to it, leaned over, and yanked out the dagger with no finesse at all. It screeched again, and she placed a foot on one leathery wing.
“I should eviscerate you, or at the very least lop your head off. To hell with this ‘running away’ crap.” As Aleilah raised the dagger, she scowled at her defeated assailant. “After all, Mihdael, you taught me well!”
The creature shimmered, and AngelFire altered its form.
Mihdael lay on the ground, unharmed, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “What? You are a critic now? You did not appreciate my death scene?”
“Less is more,” she grinned down at him, and stepped back, releasing his wing.
Mihdael got to his feet, shaking the dust off his wings. “Congratulations, Leea; you have passed your Final Test. How did you know it was me?”
“That last maneuver; you told me when you taught it to me that you had devised it yourself.” She shrugged. “Pretty simple deduction after that.”
Mihdael nodded, “Nevertheless, the result stands.” His dark wings extended. “I leave you to your duties, and I wish you well on your next mission.” He hovered. smiling back at her. “I know Raphael will rest much easier now.”
His unexpected laughter flowed back to her as he flew into the star filled sky. “And Michael will have the nightmares.”


THE ALEILAH SERIES
WHAT IF... There were no female angels in Heaven?
WHAT IF... God decided to create one female angel, shortly after the Great Flood?
WHAT IF... She found herself captivated by the stoically rigid Commander of Heaven’s Army?
WHAT IF... Archangel Michael found himself responding to her in an entirely unexpected (and bewildering ) manner?

These concepts and more are explored with humor and insight as Angel Aleilah evolves from an innocent child-like being into a fully mature female who longs to experience all life has to offer: in both Heaven and Earth.

Part 1 – “Angel Aleilah: Guardian”
After the Great Flood, God creates a new Angel to serve as guardian for the Host of Heaven.
Part 1.5 – “Guardian at Arms”
Angel Warrior Mihdael teaches Aleilah basic self-defense techniques, under Michael’s watchful eye.
Part 2 – “Demonocalypse”
Michael, Sylphia, Liftheon, and Mihdael are sent to Earth to stop Lucifer’s plan for his own version of the Apocalypse.
Part 2.5 – “Attitude Adjustment”
Aleilah’s attentions to a Troll-like creature sets off Michael’s jealous temper.
Part 3 – “Almighty Afterthought”
God sends Aleilah to an Alternate Reality as she attempts to prevent the War in Heaven.
Part 4 – “Archangel’s Atonement”
Michael’s decision costs him his title, rank, and authority in Heaven. Mihdael takes over as Commander of the Army. Last story in the Aleilah Series.