Angel Warriors - HeavenBound Section 1

ANGEL WARRIORS – BOOK THREE: HEAVENBOUND
BY: Melinda Reynolds




CHAPTER ONE

//While healing Mihdael, Raphael touched on the surface of the warrior’s memories, the highlights: Satan’s fury and the branding (producing a scar that only God could remove), Lucifer’s words and actions, and the last, most recent – Michael striking him, forcing him to endure Lucifer’s punishment. All was seen and experienced from Mihdael’s viewpoint, through his perceptions; Raphael knew nothing of Michael’s involvement or his reasons.//

Location: Heaven – Eden; circa 1991


Eden’s Gate opened at Michael’s approach, and closed silently behind him. He alighted and, with gentle care, lowered Mihdael to the thick grass. The warrior looked worse in the light of Eden: gray, drained, …lifeless. The welts were deep and varied; the lashes seared into his very soul, leaving blackened scars. The injuries were outside of Michael’s healing abilities, but he could provide some comfort, if Mihdael would allow it. And, as weak as he was, the warrior selectively shut him out.


Although the surface link was shallow, Michael skimmed over Mihdael’s consciousness; with quick expertise, he ascertained the Warrior’s status, both physical and mental. Neither was encouraging, and Mihdael was not allowing an in-depth analysis for ‘cause and effect’ – at least, not by the Archangel.

~‘Mihdael… do not let pride prevent me from helping thee. I see all of Lucifer’s aspects within thee… do not let his influence on thy nature overrule reason, and dominate thy character. Such is not the way for Angels of God…’~


Michael's surface mental message only resulted in Mihdael creating another mental barrier, and reinforcing it with what little strength and will that remained to him.


The strength that Michael had given him enabled the warrior to prevent any further mental contact. The Archangel would have to force the mental link, and he stopped at crossing that line.


Michael summoned Raphael, and the younger Archangel appeared immediately.


“Tend to him, Raphael; there is naught I can do for him.”


“Mihdael? He is back? I was not aware that he had returned.”


“I…brought him back. But he is badly injured, far beyond my capacity to heal him. Thou art the healer, Raphael; use thy skills and knowledge to aid him.”


Raphael knelt beside Mihdael, and a shimmering, blue-green aura enveloped the warrior. Several of the surface cuts closed and healed; but the deeper, inner scars remained, and Raphael withdrew. “I cannot complete the process. He resists my efforts, and I cannot reach him.” His dark green eyes looked up at him gravely. “He does not wish to return.”


“Thee must help him. I cannot reach him; he will not allow it. Thee must try again: ask, beg, demand, insist – whatever thee must do to get through. Thee has the words, the means; thee has his trust and respect.


“Bring him back to us, Raphael; bring him back…” Michael’s voice lowered, “…to me.”

***


Raphael felt and reflected the pain Mihdael had experienced, both physical and mental. Horrified, he pulled away, and looked up at Michael with hard, cold eyes. “Thou… thou art responsible for this--”


Even as Michael started to explain, Raphael rose to his feet, cutting him off with a gesture. “Thou didst strike him down.


“There is no cause, no excuse, for thee to strike an angel with all thy might. To use thy power against one weaker than thee, is reprehensible.


“By all that is holy, Michael, what wast thou thinking?”


“I thought… I had no idea he would not deflect it.”


“He saw you as a friend; he thought you were there to help him. Even so, he had not the energy to withstand half of what you threw at him. It left him with no defense against Lucifer’s whip.”


“Thee does not understand, Raphael. I had to stop him.”


“You have done so. His lifeforce is at the point of disintegration. In fact, I do not understand how he survived the trip back here – not in his present state.”


“I… did what I could…”


“You have done enough. Now leave, I cannot continue in your presence; it is upsetting for him.”


Michael shook his head. “I cannot leave him. Raphael, thee must heed my words—”


“Thou hast no authority over me, Archangel.” With a thought, a shimmering, opaque curtain of deep blue appeared, separating them.


Michael could have done away with the field, but he knew he would incur Raphael’s formidable wrath. Turning away, he rubbed a hand over his eyes, wondering how much worse things could get.


“I wouldn’t let my subordinates get away with that, if I were you,” the mocking tone stiffened his back and set his teeth on edge. “They might start thinking they are capable of independent action and thought…”


Michael didn’t turn to face his adversary, “Lucifer, get thee from my sight, and hearing…”


Lucifer smiled, leaned against the bars of Eden’s Gate. “Oh, but I am where I’m supposed to be, Archangel. Are you?”


“You knew… All along, you knew!” Rage overcame reason, and he drew his sword, advancing toward the Gate.

As Michael reached for the latch, he sensed glimmer of movement behind him; he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a greenish flash of light as Raphael and Mihdael disappeared. No doubt to Raphael’s sanctuary, beyond Michael’s reach and influence. The one place in God’s Realm that Michael was honor-bound not to intrude without invitation.


Furious, he whirled on Lucifer, only to see him vanish as well in towering flames, his mocking laughter echoing around him.


“You will not triumph, Beast of Darkness. If I must crawl to him on hands and knees, and beg his forgiveness, I shall do so.


“You will not claim victory over me!”


II

//NOTES: Michael goes before God – they settle the matter of his invading Hell. God then says He will command Mihdael to rejoin the Army as Michael’s Second-in-Command. Michael asks God not to do that, to allow Mihdael to return to the Army of his own free will.//


CHAPTER TWO

I

Raphael glanced down at Mihdael, surprised as he felt the light touch on his arm. Eyes opened slightly, pale blue eyes that were glassy and feverish. “… Raphael…” his voice hardly more than a whisper, his eyes closed again, as if that single effort had drained him completely.


“Be thou silent, and rest, Mihdael; your energy is depleted. There is little left for you to expend. Rest, and draw upon the strength of God’s Grace and Love…”


“…Do not…judge him… too harshly…”


Raphael barely caught the words, and he grasped the warrior’s hand firmly as it slipped from his arm. “Please, Mihdael, do as I ask of thee. Thy situation is grave. Your life-force was nearly extinguished.”


“I…know. I am here now… only because… Michael imparted his strength… to me. He would not… let me go… ” He smiled with faint amusement, aware of the double meaning of his words. He gripped Raphael’s hand with failing strength. “Thee saw … only surface impressions. I could… not allow thee to see deeper.


“It is Lucifer’s doing, I am… certain of it. Thee cannot comprehend… the extent of his Evil. He would destroy everything… and everyone.


“We… cannot allow him… to succeed…


“I will survive; not to spite him, as he would believe. But to fight the Evil that claims him in any and every way… that I know…


“Thee are… right, Raphael; I need… to rest, for… awhile…”



II


As he had no idea of the amount of time he had spent in Hell, neither did Mihdael know how long he lay, oblivious and unaware, in the secluded alcove in Raphael’s sanctuary. Night in Heaven was simply a receding of the golden light; it was never completely dark. The stars were always visible, as were galaxies and nebulae, comets and quasars; but at evening, they were brighter, more pronounced – the blackness of space appeared as a veil of darkness over the Light of Heaven.


Evening was also a time of quiet introspection, of prayer; when Archangels and Angels paused to worship and give thanks, voices raised in reverent song. It was the songs of praise and prayer that first encroached on his awareness. He listened for a moment, picking out the individual voices: Uriel’s and Gabriel’s clear tenors; Michael’s resonant bass; and all the tonal ranges between the highest and deepest voices. Only his own sonorous baritone was absent, and he could not bring himself to shake free of the lethargy and join the others in song.


Raphael’s voice, a low-range tenor, eased off as he finished first. He felt the light touch on his arm, and he looked up at the young/old face above him.


“Wilt thee not join in the evening prayers, Mihdael? Your voice has been sorely missed, for your praise always led the other warriors, and they seem lost without you.”


Mihdael shook his head slightly. “Later, perhaps.”


Raphael considered for a moment, then crossed to an adjoining room. He looked down at the gently glowing viola lying on a wooden table. Mihdael had left it with him, seemingly eons ago, to have three additional strings added. He had wanted the additional middle to high strings to serve as a counterpoint to the deeper bass tones.

The ‘strings’ were light frequencies, as was the ‘bow’; Raphael was expert at tuning such energies to produce the clearest and truest tones possible. The viola itself was also composed of energy, white-gold and blue, formed and balanced to fit perfectly to Mihdael’s mental and emotional temperament. Only the warrior could produce the ritornelle and symphonies he played, for the music was a composition of his soul and spirit; it was as unique, and personal, as the angel himself.


He ran his hand along the smooth, curved surface, the light flaring at his touch. Perhaps this would aid in Mihdael’s recovery, would provide the inspiration he needed to reclaim his place in God’s Realm.


“Mihdael…” The pale blue eyes looked up at him with apathy as he approached. “I hope I do not presume too much, but I thought this might be of some…comfort.” He held out the viola, the Light shimmering around it in golden waves.


The warrior looked at the instrument, then accepted it. “Thank you, Raphael,” he touched the light strings. “You added the new tones…” His quiet voice trailed off as his fingertips brushed over the strings, the tones clear and perfect. He placed the viola under his chin, and, head back, eyes closed, ran the bow slowly over the strings. The Light dimmed and shimmered as deep, mournful melodies flowed from heart and soul, given tangible substance by the music attuned to them.


Raphael could bear only a few measures before muffling the sound with his hand. Mihdael looked up at him curiously.


“The… frequencies – they are not tuned properly—”


“The tones are perfect, as always,” Mihdael did not release the viola. “Leave it as it is; I have no complaints.”


“But, it is so melancholy, so…depressing. Why not play something more uplifting, more suited to the soul of a warrior?”


“It is suited to my soul, but I will not play if it troubles you.” Mihdael placed the viola on the side table, “Promise you will do nothing to change it.”


“I will do nothing to it. And you may play it whenever you please; I did not intend to discourage you from playing it…”


“Your advice was well-given.” Mihdael sat up, rising from the alcove carefully. He retrieved his viola, and strode toward the garden, halting inside the shadowy doorway. “No…” he shook his head slightly, “not here. I do not feel… as one, here…”


“You are not restricted; you may go where ever you want.”


Mihdael smiled slightly, “I will return shortly…”



III

Dark green robes swirled around Mihdael’s feet as he landed gracefully in Eden, white wings folding against his back. He held the bow and viola casually in one hand as he walked among the flowers, felt the warm breeze against his face, ruffling through his feathers; but he shivered in the sunlight, a coldness within him that the sun could not reach, could not warm…


He found himself near Eden’s Gate, and, with a sigh, lifted the viola and once again began to play. The melody flowed from within him, carrying the notes of despair, the measure of loneliness, the stanza of isolation… it was beautifully heart-wrenching, and the music expressed the desolation of his spirit with far more emphasis than any verbal description could have. He let the final bars trail off and he lowered the viola, feeling none the better for the unisonant release of his pent-up emotions.


His head jerked up in surprise as the sound of languid clapping disturbed the silence.


“Excellent… Glad to see, or hear, that your time in Hell was not completely wasted. I have never heard such a dreary litany in my life…


“You were so … um, Hell-bent to get out of Hell, now you stand there, looking so solemn, your music so implacable… Where is the joyous home-coming, your elated welcome for your return to Heaven?


“Does thee not grow weary of hearing the sound of thine own voice?”


“I grow weary of hearing thine. Yet, my troubled thoughts have led me here, before you. I would ask a question of you, but doubt if you would be truthful…” He turned away abruptly, “No… I should not be talking to you at all…”


“Mihdael… Wait a moment. Please?”


Mihdael halted, but didn’t turn.


“If I can answer your questions, I will do so – and truthfully.” At Mihdael’s scornful look, he added, “You can verify my words with Michael or God.”


Mihdael approached the Gate, his gaze level as he formulated the question, searched for the words he needed. “Earlier – when you—” he broke off, then continued, “You said you wanted something from me, ‘power’ that you had ‘freely’ given to me eons ago… What were you referring to? I recall nothing given by you…my power, my existence, is from God, not you.”


“You have always believed that you were created with the other angels, but… you were not. God did not create you because He had need of you, or even wanted you… No, your existence is due entirely to the whim of an Archangel who wanted only an obedient shadow.”


“Your words hold as much truth as ever – none. A being does not come into existence simply to satisfy the whim of any, other than God Himself.”


“Ah, so you have been led to believe, and which you blindly accept. This was not just any Archangel; this was His Begin-All-End-All, His precious Michael, to whom He denies nothing. Dear Michael was lonely, and wanted someone who knew only what Michael wanted him to know. Even that was not enough for your Commander: He wanted to be certain that his ‘Second’ would be controllable, and he infused your soul with a gentle and all-forgiving nature. He wanted you made in his image, yet subject to him, so God created you to be his adulator…”


“Your words border on blasphemy, as well as insanity.”


“Do they? Consider then, why you are second only to Michael, why you answer only to him, and why you constantly crave his approval. Why would it matter, if you were not bound to him in some way – I spoke quickly on your behalf, even then, that you not be bound to him, that you not be his unwitting slave.


“To protect you, I gave you part of my Self; I gave you, freely and willingly, the power, intellect, and bearing of God’s best-loved Archangel. I, I gave you the power of all the Legions combined; I gave you intellect on the par of an Archangel; and I gave you pride so you could realize your true potential. Part of me resides within you, Mihdael; just as part of Michael invests your soul. But he chose to give you his gentle nature, and his capacity for forgiveness—”


At Mihdael’s incredulous look, “Do not look so amazed, or skeptical. Were you not listening to me? As much as I hate to admit it, Michael is the gentlest, most-forgiving Archangel in Heaven – ‘I am sorry’ may be the last words his enemies hear, if you get my meaning…


“He wanted to be certain you would always yield to him in word and deed. On the one hand, he asked for an Angel strong enough to question, stand up to him; then on the other, ensures that that Angel will yield, and forgive anything that Michael may say or do.” Lucifer grinned smugly, “Too bad Michael didn’t think to add ‘and to forget’ to your list of character traits.


“So consider, Mihdael, why would it matter that, to you, God’s approval and acceptance is not enough, but you have to have Michael’s as well?”


“He is my Commander,” Mihdael straightened defensively, “and that is all the answer I need to give you.”


“But, is it answer enough for you…?”


“I…do not know… Perhaps you are right. I will think upon what you have told me, and add it to what I know to be true…”


Lucifer couldn’t let it end yet; he would ferment Mihdael’s insecurities with half-truths. “And do you know all that is true about him, Mihdael? As I had told you, when I was Cast Out, my Light and Glory was given to him; that my place to God was given to him? Do you not know he considers you nothing more than a sycophantic lackey, despite his claims to the contrary?


“You may want to keep this is mind as well: As God created you at Michael’s request, would God not also destroy you if Michael requested that of Him?


“Nothing you do or say pleases him; hell, your appearance does not please him – he prefers a more military aspect, a reflection if you will of his militaristic glory. Heaven forbid that his lieutenant, his second-in-command, would be any less than what Michael expected him to be…”


“I will test the veracity of what you have told me, Lucifer, and if I find that you have lied to me, in any way—”


“I gain nothing from lying to you.” Lucifer held up his hands defensively, tone deferential. “All I have said is true. Test it as you will, and you will find that I have revealed to you what Michael would keep from you…”


“Not only Michael, it would seem…” Mihdael started to leave, but then turned back to face the Fallen Archangel. Lucifer, arms crossed, leaned against the bars, Darkness swirling around him, the red glowing eyes of numerous imps and demons crouching behind him. “I have given your actions and your words careful consideration, Lucifer, both here and in Hell. I can find no good reason behind them, no… good purpose; only hatred, and jealousy, and a cruel cunning to subvert and malign. And yet, knowing all this, I find that I can still forgive thee.”


He met the narrowed, glowing eyes levelly. “I forgive thee, Lucifer, Prince of Darkness and Deceiver of Man… I forgive thine actions, thy words, thy deeds – a capacity for forgiveness granted to me, according to you, by Michael…,” the wings lifted him off the ground, his form fading as his voice continued, “…would that thee could forgive thyself as well…”



IV

“Well, what thinkest thou?”


“I do not care for it.” Raphael frowned, not liking this newest manifestation of Mihdael’s depression. The warrior had changed his physical appearence from light, fair colors to darker shades. The dark gold hair now gleamed blue-black, his wings shading from midnight to ebony on the outside, slate-grey on the inside; dark brows arced over steel-blue eyes, and his skin tone darkened to deep bronze.


“Nor do I, but Michael has made it clear on more than one occasion that he does not…approve…of my appearance.”


“You look stern, unyielding – ominous. It is very unlike you.”


“Good, for I have not felt like myself lately.” The questions raised by Lucifer’s answers served only to deepen his self-doubts. He was no longer certain if he knew who or what he was. “I need to… reclaim myself, my former status. To do that, I will have to start where it all began; I will have to come to terms with my Commander.”


“So, you will forgive Michael for his part in your ‘rescue’?”


“Yes.”


“And forget?”


“Not yet,” He absently rubbed the dark bruises left by Michael’s powerful grip. “No, there is much left unsettled between us. I cannot …continue this way; the issue will be evaded no longer.


“I have not the strength or courage, yet, to face him; but I am nearly recovered, and there will be a reckoning between us…”



***

“Can you… separate the components of my being?”


“Separate? What do you mean?”


“I want to see – to know – what I am inside. Who I am…”


“Very well…” Raphael reverted back to his original state of pure energy, and Mihdael did the same.

The warrior’s consciousness observed as the Healer carefully and expertly unbound the myriad layers of the angel’s foundation of being. The main layers separated, and Mihdael noted with detached concern the burned, blackened areas evident in each layer – burned into his very being by the whip of Hellfire. He also saw the individual aspects of each layer. There were four distinct levels: the first one was of God; the second one was of Michael; the third was of Lucifer; and the fourth… it was a combination of the first three and more, the fourth was Mihdael.


His consciousness moved among the layers, studying each one as Raphael remained with him. ~~“Is that it? Or that one…? Perhaps… that one?”~~


Raphael’s concern swept around him, wanting to understand the purpose of Mihdael’s literal self-examination. ~~“What are you talking about?”~~


~~“Where is it, Raphael?”~~


~~“What?!? What are you looking for?”~~


~~“Where… is the part of me that Michael hates?”~~


Raphael was taken aback; he never expected that question. ~~“Mihdael… Michael does not hate you.”~~


~~“There,”~~ Mihdael continued as if Raphael had not responded, ~~“that is it.”~~ A quiet confirmation of his discovery: the brilliant platinum radiance that the Archangel Lucifer had bestowed upon him. ~~“The part that Lucifer gave to me, one-third of the foundation of my being. The part that Michael cannot trust, cannot suffer, cannot… accept.”~~


Raphael felt the faint spark of hope as Mihdael continued. ~~“If you excise that part from me, then I will be as Michael expected me to be. I will gain his approval.”~~


~~“Once extinguished, it cannot be returned later.”~~


~~“I know not what else to do. Michael sees more of Lucifer’s influence in me than any other aspect of my being. If that influence is no longer there…”~~


~~“How much of yourself are you willing to lose just to satisfy someone else’s perception of what you should be? Regardless of whom that someone might be.”~~


~~“I … want him to accept me.”~~


~~“Even at the loss of your identity?”~~


~~“I… am not sure that I have an identity, Healer.”~~


~~“Yet, you see it there, the last level. It is you, Mihdael, and no other.”~~


~~“It is naught but them: God and Archangels – my own personal Trinity… combined together to form my foundation. Who am I, in the end, but a derivative of them? A weakened dilution of powerful entities into the shell of an Angel?”~~


~~“If you cannot perceive the fallacy of your reasoning, then I shall never be able to completely heal you.”~~


Raphael felt the withdrawal again, and he would not allow it this time. He blocked the warrior’s instinctive retreat into himself, barring his way as effectively with mental barriers as he would have with physical restraint. ~~“Mihdael, you have come this far. Find the answers you want, but allow those answers to come to you; do not just glance over them and judge out of turn.”~~


~~“I have found those answers. And they most definitely came to me – from other sources.”~~


~~“Mihdael… Thou art a Warrior, it is not your nature to be submissive, to surrender…”~~ Raphael paused, trying to find the right words.

Of all the Angels in Heaven, Mihdael was the closest to the intellectual equal of an Archangel. He held within his being the influence of three of the most powerful, intelligent, and resolute entities in the Universe… And yet his perceptions, reactions, and behavior were channeled and controlled through the comportment of an Angel. It was like having twenty horses pulling a chariot when two would be sufficient. And, instead of pulling together as a team, each of those twenty horses was careening off in different directions.

~~“You have come to believe that you can solve all your difficulties by simply re-arranging your mental furniture; by tossing out what others believe to be detrimental to you, or to them… Every particle of your make up is there for a reason.

~~“You see Lucifer’s contribution as a handicap at best, a curse at worst. In your eagerness to be what everyone else wants you to be, you have lost yourself; you have lost your own insight into your character. You have forgotten, as Michael has, that when Lucifer gave his aspects of character to you, he was still an Archangel; he was still the most favored in God’s Eyes. You both had Free Will to as you wished; Lucifer chose to rebel. You… you chose to gain acceptance – at any cost.”~~


~~“I know all you say is true. But I must resolve this impasse with Michael. He will not, and I can not. It is an untenable situation, I know; but it is there nonetheless. I am, as you said, a Warrior; yet as I am now, I am not fit for combat. Even Michael could see that; he prefaced all his ‘offers’ of reinstatement to me with caution and uncertainty – I saw the difference in his attitude clearly.

~~"I have not met his expectations, and I have now found the reason why. If I am rid of that—”~~ He placed his own mental barrier around all the aspects given to him by Lucifer, ~~“then only Michael’s and God’s influence remains.”~~


~~“Is that all you can see, Mihdael? Or, is that all you want to see? If I do as you ask, you will not be the same. You will be a completely different entity.”~~


~~“A better one.”~~


~~“Perhaps, but most certainly less of one. Do you want to be less than what you are? We are all God’s Children; we are all the sum total of our parts. And that total is greater than the individual parts, for we add our own natures, personalities, and experiences to it. From all those individual components, we form our character; take even the tiniest part of that away, and we are something – someone – else. From many, we become one.


~~“You came to terms with your… contradictory nature long ago. You found a way to make it work for you. Step back and take a more objective look, Mihdael; do not jeopardize what you have labored so arduously to attain thus far.”~~


~~“Is that an order, Healer? Do you now command me as well?”~~


~~“No, I only console, counsel, and cure. The choice is yours.”~~


~~“Choice… as if I ever had any choices…”~~


~~“You have this one. I will honor whatever choice you make.”~~


***

“It is as you wished it to be.” Raphael gradually withdrew from the Warrior’s newly healed spirit. “I could not heal everything. The injuries caused by the Hellfire whip can only be cured by God, and only Our Father can remove the Mark of Satan and cleanse thy soul. Thee must turn to Him, Mihdael; thee wilt not be complete until thee does so.”


Mihdael nodded, not answering. He took on his ‘dark angel’ persona once again, more than aware of the feeling of… desolation within his being. And cold… his soul and spirit were devoid of life and warmth.


CONTINUED IN SECTION 2: "Angel Warriors - HeavenBound Section 2"