War in Heaven

Sebastian Gloom
Part Sixteen


“What do you think of Hell, Gloom?” said the priest. “Are you looking forward to going back there?” He was wearing a full suit of armour, like a knight from the days of King Arthur, with a cross, complete with a crucified Christ, embossed on the chest plate. He was holding the helmet under one hand, and in the other he was holding a massive broadsword.
“You're a killer, Anthony Carter,” said Gloom, taking a step towards him. “What are you doing in Heaven?”
“Nothing done in the service of God can be sinful...”
“Not even the murder of an innocent young woman, a woman who'd never hurt anyone in her life?”
“If she was innocent she dwells in Heaven now. She may even be among my colleagues, gathered here to stop you.” He looked around at the other blessed souls as if expecting her to step forward, and Gloom found himself hoping she would. What a meeting that would be! They were both to be disappointed, but some of the armoured souls gathered beside the priest turned out to be women and one of them removed her helmet, black hair spilling out, and turned to face him. “Is that true?” she demanded. “You killed an innocent woman?”
“There were special circumstances,” replied Father Anthony, “And the fact that I stand here beside you tells you that God agrees with me. Do not make the mistake of questioning His judgement.”
“You broke the first commandment!” roared Gloom. “Thou shalt not kill!”
“That's the sixth commandment, you idiot!” replied Anthony.
Gloom slapped his forehead with his palm. “Ah yes, You’re right. What was the first commandment then? Ah yes, Thou shalt have no other God than Me. God has a twisted sense of priorities, don't you think? His ego comes first, while murder is bumped down to number six. What kind of depraved sociopath do you people worship?”
“You still dare to utter blasphemies!” He lifted the sword one handed, grunting with the effort, and took another two steps forward. “Come and learn the price of your sins, if you dare, or will you go skulking back to the flames you have earned?”
Gloom also stepped forward, waving for Benson and Nacoma to remain behind. “You deserve the flames far more than I do, Anthony Carter.”
The priest laughed. “You really think you have a chance against me, Gloom? I have armour and a sword. You are, literally, naked. Come on, then, let's get this over with.”
“Yes, I do think I have a chance,” replied Gloom as he continued walking forward. “You know why? Because you've been enjoying paradise for all these years. You know what paradise does to you, Anthony? It makes you soft, weak. I, though, have been in Hell, being tortured by agonies you cannot imagine. You know what adversity does to you? It makes you strong. So I turn your question back on you, Anthony. Do you think you have a chance against me?”
The priest laughed and placed the helmet back on his head, then gripped the huge broadsword two handed. The two men were less than ten feet apart now, and Anthony lifted the sword, preparing to bring it down in a slashing arc that would cleave the other man cleanly in two. Benson started forward to go to Gloom's aid, but Nacoma held him back. Something told the Cherokee that the investigator knew what he was doing.
Anthony gave a cry of rage and ran forward, bringing the sword down towards Gloom's head, but the investigator stepped nimbly to the side and grabbed the priest's wrist, twisting and squeezing hard. The steel armour crumpled between his fingers and Anthony cried out in surprise and pain, dropping the sword. Gloom ignored the dropped weapon and plunged his other hand into the priest's chest, his fingers tearing through the effigy of Christ and ripping the breastplate away as if it were made of paper. Anthony's free hand went to Gloom's throat and squeezed. Gloom barely felt it. Instead he punched the priest in the face with all his strength, his fist going right through the helmet, and blood and pulped flesh spurted through the gaps in the torn metal.
The other blessed souls could only stare in horror and disbelief as Anthony collapsed onto the grass, his hands flying to the face that was already starting to heal, and Gloom stopped to pick up the sword. It felt as light as a feather in his hand. “Join us!” he cried to the denizens of Heaven. “You all know the truth of God, you know exactly what a monster he is! He doesn't deserve your worship! Join us and help us bring justice and mercy to the afterlife!”
Perhaps some of them would indeed have changed sides, but behind him the other damned souls had been encouraged by his victory and were pressing forward, shouting eager battlecries as they sought their own share of the glory. Some of the blessed souls ran to attack them, and the first ranks of the invaders fell with horrific injuries from their weapons, crying out with pain and frustration, but there were too many of them and the denizens of heaven were gradually pushed back and forced onto the defensive. Many of them were torn to pieces by teeth and fingernails, their screams adding to the sounds of the battle, while others managed to fight their way free and escape back to the north, but the majority were forced back into a number of defensive circles where they could use their weapons to defend their neighbours without the invaders being able to get behind them.
The invaders’ attack faltered as they found themselves unable to penetrate the ranks of the defenders. Even those damned souls who'd managed to snatch up weapons from fallen enemies were too few to make a difference and, as those who had been injured finished healing, silence fell over the battlefield as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Gloom dragged Father Anthony to the nearest defensive position and stood him where the blessed souls could see him. “Tell them to lay down their arms,” he said, pulling off the priest's shattered helmet to reveal his newly healed face. “They can’t stop us from reaching the throne of God.”
“You fool!” laughed the priest. “Do you really think you can defeat God himself? He's God, you idiot! He's literally all powerful! What do you think will happen when you stand before Him? Do you think He'll meekly surrender and grant all your demands? Is that really what you think?”
“If He’s all powerful, why has He let us come this far? We've surprised you once, Anthony Carter. I think we might surprise you again.” He turned to address the blessed souls, who were staring at him in doubt and uncertainty. “I know that many of you, maybe most of you, are genuinely good people who deserve to be in Heaven,” he said, “but there are also many of you like him.” He indicated Father Anthony. “Killers, murderers, vile sum who got a free pass because they did it in the name of the church. If there are truly good people among you, prove it by turning over the bad people and letting us pass. You know our cause is just, you know that genuinely good people have been damned for no good reason. I don't believe you’re willing to just stand by and allow this situation to continue.”
“Don’t listen to him!” cried the priest. “They're enemies of God!”
“Being an enemy of God is right and honourable when God is guilty of such crimes! The time has come for you to make a choice. Will you defend the torture and punishment of people whose only crime is to not worship a tyrant, or will you take a stand for what is right?”
“You're wasting your time Gloom!” laughed Father Anthony. “They are the righteous chosen of God. Their faith is firm...”
He fell silent as one of the blessed souls stepped forward, shrugging off the hands of those who tried to hold her back. It was the black haired woman who'd spoken before. As she came closer Gloom saw that she was brown skinned with ritual scars decorating her face, something he'd heard that some African tribes did to celebrate their triumphs and accomplishments. “Tell us more about this woman you killed,” she demanded of the priest.
“Her name was Doris Kettle,” said Gloom. “She was a simple serving girl who...”
“She was a member of a gang of thieves!” interrupted Anthony. “Her brother was a housebreaker who killed an innocent man and injured two others in the execution of his last crime...”
“The crime that you hired him to perform!” pointed out Gloom. “You knew what he was, and you saw him as nothing more than a useful tool for the church. You condone, even reward crimes that serve your interests.”
The african woman turned to address Gloom. “The church says that if we serve Europeans as slaves and servants, we will be rewarded in heaven, and here I am. God has kept His promise to me Why should I take up arms against the one who has delivered what He promised?”
“I don't doubt that there are genuinely good people in Heaven,” replied Gloom, “just as many genuinely bad people have been damned to Hell, but this is just good luck, the selfish interests of God and the church occasionally coinciding with what is right. We need to make sure that all good people are rewarded, and that all bad people get what they deserve. We can't allow justice to go on being so arbitrary! You say that you were rewarded with Heaven for being a slave. Why should anyone have to be a slave? How can you support a God who repeatedly states that slavery is right and proper? How many of your people have been damned to Hell for daring to oppose slavery?”
“If God states that slavery is right, then it is right,” said Father Anthony. “Everything God says is true by definition, because it was said by God!”
“And if you believe that then we have nothing left to say to each other,” replied Gloom.
He waited to see whether his words would have any sway with the blessed souls. Some heated conversations were taking place within their ranks, but to his disappointment no great mass defection seemed to be about to take place. He wasn't really surprised. Those who have been rewarded by an institution and repeatedly told that they’re special, better than everyone else, weren't going to suddenly turn on it, no matter how great the crimes it had committed against other people. Still, he'd had to try. He looked hopefully at the African woman. If just one of them came over to his side, maybe it would encourage others to do the same, but although she was frowning doubtfully she made no move to leave the ranks of her fellows. “You see, Gloom?” cried Father Anthony triumphantly. “The words of the fallen have no power to deceive the faithful!”
“So, what do we do now?” asked Benson.
Gloom became aware that the entire army of damned souls was looking at him, and he was astonished to realise that they seemed to have adopted him as their leader, giving him an army many times greater then that of Genghis Khan. “We can't just go on and leave them behind us,” he said. “They could go back, retrace our steps and free Netzach. We have to capture them, take them with us as we go on.”
“Or we could stay here, just stand guard over them,” suggested a damned soul from the crowd gathered behind him. “We've done enough. We could stay here, make our homes here. We'll make sure that lot don't get up to any mischief.” Murmurs of agreement came from around him.
“You would be welcome!” agreed Father Anthony. “Heaven welcomes you!” Cheers answered him, along with scattered applause.
“No!” said Gloom though, recognising what the priest was trying to do. “The war isn’t over, the others might need us. We have to go on, and that means we have to defeat them. All of you with weapons, gather here.” About a hundred souls armed with captured swords and spears came forward to stand before him. So few, thought Gloom. Will they be enough? They have to be! “We'll charge that group there,” he said, indicating the nearest circle of defenders, who were watching them anxiously. “Every one of us is the equal of a dozen of them. You saw how easily I defeated him.” He indicated the priest. “The rest of you, follow behind us. Pick up any weapons they drop. When we’ve defeated them, every one of them must be guarded. Don't allow any more of them to slip away.” He was thinking of the blessed souls who'd run away to the north earlier. Were they even now trying to slip around them to where Sammael was holding Netzach? They shouldn't have left him alone, he realised. Not out of sentimentality, just out of common military sense.
An idea came to him and he went over to the group who'd clapped and cheered earlier. “I want you to go back to Sammael. Guard him, make sure no blessed souls try to attack him. You can make your homes there, so long as you look after Sammael as well.” That cheered them up, and fully half of his army turned to go back the way they'd come. That left him with the half most eager to fight, which suited him just fine.
“I need you to look after this b*****d,” he said to Benson, indicating the priest. “Don't let him get away.”
“My place is by your side!” protested his former manservant.
“I need him guarded by someone I can trust. Will you do that for me? Please?”
“You never need to say please to me. You can trust me, master.”
“And you never need to call me master.” He clapped the man on the shoulder, then turned to his army and lifted his sword. “Ready?” They cheered back at him. “Let's do it!”
He led the charge towards the gathered defenders, who tensed up fearfully to meet them. For a moment he thought they might scatter and run, but they held firm and thrust with their weapons a moment before they collided in a crash of flesh and steel. Gloom swung his sword with all his strength and it batted away the weapons of the defenders as if they were sticks of bamboo before slicing through the first three men. Their steel armour parted like cotton and blood sprayed from their bodies as they were cut to the spine. He swung again and again, leaving more of them writhing in agony at his bare feet, but then he was in amongst them and being attacked from the sides and behind. He felt his body being pierced by weapons and it was his turn to fall as he lost control of his limbs.
He lay there waiting for his body to heal, watching the battle taking place over him. More of his men fell, but ten times the number of defenders were cut down, and as they fell their weapons were snatched up by damned souls who added to the slaughter. As soon as Gloom's body was healed enough he stood again, searched about for a weapon and rejoined the fight. Within minutes it was over. A thousand of his men now had weapons, and he detailed men to guard the prisoners before leading the attack on the next group of defenders.
With more armed men, the next battle was over even more quickly. Every remaining group of defenders tried to come to the aid of the group he was attacking and the damned souls, finding themselves attacked from behind, milled in panicked confusion before organising themselves to a defence. Even this didn't affect the outcome of the battle, though, and a few minutes later it was all over, with all the weapons in the hands of damned souls and all the denizens of Heaven having their hands tied behind their backs with strips torn from their own clothing.
“It might not be long before they realise that their bonds are as illusory as everything else here,” said Benson as he and Father Anthony, his hands also tied, came to rejoin him. Hearing this, the priest tried to free himself, but failed.
“Knowing it's an illusion, and really understanding it right down where it matters, are not the same thing,” replied Gloom, though. “Remember how long it took us to conquer the flames, and we had one hell of an incentive to do that.” He looked at the priest, who glared his hatred back at him. “God waits for you up ahead,” he reminded them. “Your victory here means nothing. Soon, you will be back in Hell, and peace will have been restored here.”
“We'll see,” replied Gloom, and he ordered his army to continue its march onwards.

☆☆☆

They seemed to walk forever. At times they came across other angels held prisoner by demons using their own weapons against them, and once they were attacked by a free angel, a glorious being armed with a bow and arrow who shot arrows down at them from above. Those hit by arrows were carried by their fellows until they healed, and the angel couldn't dome down to attack them hand to hand without putting itself at risk of the weapons carried by the damned souls. It just followed them, therefore, continuing to shoot arrows down at them, until a demon arrived to engage it. They watched the battle for a while, in case the demon needed any help, but it soon had the angel pinned to the ground and, after congratulating it, the damned souls continued on their way.
If they were walking on the outer surface of the starry firmament, sculpted into hills and valleys, then Gloom estimated that they were about ten thousand miles from the Throne of God. Since they never slept, they were able to walk continuously, which meant it would take them about half a year to get there, so far as it was possible to measure the passage of time. It was always daytime, the sky always a cloudless blue, but there was no sun, the light seeming to come from all directions equally. It never rained, but the soil was always just damp enough for the grass and trees to remain green and healthy. There were no seas too large to walk around, and no rivers too wide to cross.
They encountered other groups of blessed souls, whom they chased down and captured. They also came across other groups of invaders that they joined up with. Now and then they were contacted by small messenger demons who were co-ordinating their progress. They told Gloom, and others who had emerged into Heaven closer than average to the Throne, to slow their progress, so as not to arrive before the rest of the invading army, while they hurried those who had emerged on the opposite side of Heaven. They wanted the entire army to arrive at the same time. When Gloom asked one how the war was going, it replied that no serious resistance had been encountered by anyone so far. Purgatory had fallen without much of a struggle, and Metatron was remaining there as Governor. The location of Lucifer himself was unknown.
Shortly after joining up with a group headed by a damned soul claiming to be Lucius Cornelius Sulla of the Roman Empire, they came across a city. It was wondrously beautiful, made of towers of glass like a fairytale castle, but when they entered it they found it empty, the entire population having abandoned it as the invaders approached. Some of the damned souls wanted to destroy it in an act of vengeance for the time they'd spent in Hell, but Gloom, Sulla and the other leaders of the damned souls forbade it. “We are not mindless barbarians,” said the Roman General. “We are not sackers and vandals. Our cause is just and honourable, and we will behave accordingly. One day we will have to live among these people, and we don’t want any more hard feelings between us than we can possibly prevent.”
They knew they were getting close when they saw a glow on the northern horizon. It was a shaft of light reaching up from the ground to the very roof of Heaven, the very outermost of the crystal spheres, on the other side of which lay the primeval chaos from which the universe had been created. The shaft of light was angled away from them because of the curvature of the ground on which they were walking, a phenomenon that Gloom found endlessly fascinating. “That must be the location of the Throne itself,“ said Benson, feeling a tremble running up his spine. “The seat of God Himself. Soon, this will all be over, one way or the other.”
“What if He refuses to negotiate?” asked Nacoma. “What if He really is powerful enough to just throw us all back into Hell?”
“If He could do that, why hasn't He done it already?” asked Benson.
“To teach us a lesson in humility perhaps, or to teach the blessed souls a lesson. There are plenty of times in the bible where He allows His chosen people to be defeated in battle. He allowed the Israelites to be slaves of the Egyptians for generations, for instance, so they would all hail Him a hero when He rescued them. I hear they call it hero syndrome, like when fire fighters deliberately set fire to buildings so they can rescue the inhabitants and be heroes.”
“We’ll, let’s hope that's not what He’s doing, or we’re sunk.”
Gloom nodded. They would know very shortly, he knew. The land ahead was brightening and the ground was rising under their feet as they ascended to the very heart of Heaven. Empyrean, the very heart of creation. The abode of the Creator Himself!


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