Over the crackling roar of the energy discharges, Michael-Lan heard a groan, then an increasing wail of pain. Yahweh was in the center of an energy discharge and that discharge was being crushed inwards. He was being crushed with it. The ball was almost completely white now yet still being assailed by waves of energy in all seven colors of the visible spectrum. The wail turned into an agonized howl as the pressure continued to crush inwards. It grew louder and more unstable, the voice from within the sphere wavering and breaking under the terrible pressure. Despite his size and unimaginable power, Yahweh was dying.
When it burst, Yahweh’s defense bubble just vanished. Swamped and overwhelmed by the energy thrown at it, it was scattered and absorbed. Yahweh was consumed by the sheets of lightning that enveloped him. They crushed him, drowned him, they cast him down. By the time they were finished, the vast figure that had once dominated the Throne Room was crushed to a size no greater than the greatest of his Angels. It was slumped on the throne itself and was still.
Leilah-Lan left the group standing at the foot of the throne, the heels of her boots clicking on the jade. Her whip lashed out, just as it had once before, but this time the lash curled around Yahweh’s foot. She started to pull, intending to drag his body off the throne but she lacked the strength. Others came to help her and between them, they managed to shift the still, gray form off the pedestal and drag it to the floor below.
Michael-Lan stood, looking down at the dead body with something very close to disbelief in his heart. It seemed impossible that, after all the planning and manipulation, the battle really was over. For a brief second he couldn’t help but wonder what he would do next. After centuries spent plotting Yahweh’s downfall, the completion of the task was almost an anti-climax. The thought didn’t last long. The humans are still out there and I have to stop them blasting their way into the City. Then he looked around and watched the other Angels slowly gathering around Yahweh’s body. They looked down, bewildered and lost.
“Oh Great And Incomparable Father Of Us All.” Michael turned towards the speaker. It was Raguel, an obsequious expression on his face. Typical of him. Trying to curry favor once the fighting was done. Yahweh’s most loyal supporter and the first to change sides when he was cast down. Michael crushed the thought down.
“My name is Michael, remember? We went though all this so that kind of ridiculous posturing would be forgotten.” He paused and then put all the emphasis he could into the next four words. “My name is Michael.”
He looked around him, trying to gauge the mood of the crowd. There was something he had to do right now, so that at least one of his team would be properly rewarded. “Leilah-Lan. You are the only Erelim in my inner circle. Yet you came here first and were the first to strike a blow at Yahweh. I raise you to Chayot Ha Kadesh, the highest of all ranks of Archangel.” He reached out and laid his hand upon her head. To his surprise he felt power running through his hands and he saw Leilah standing tall. Was she raised in more than just name? Michael honestly did not know.
“There is much to be done if we are to survive. First, we must clear this place up.” He looked down at the body on the floor. “Somebody throw that in the lake. Where’s the Master Mason? Zacharael-Lan, take that throne down, break it up, chop it up, whatever. I don’t care. Just get rid of it and throw the bits in the lake as well. Use them to weigh Yahweh’s body down. Then, up on the dais where it used to be, I want a table and a set of chairs. Normal sized ones for us. Heaven will be ruled in future by discussion and agreement between free people. Not by the whims of a single dictator. We’ll hold the meetings up there and they will be free for all to watch.”
Michael paused and looked around again. “Raphael, when you have recovered, I have a special task for you. I want you to fly to the commander of the human army and tell him we surrender. Tell him that I am declaring The Eternal City to be an open city. It will not be defended and we will throw the gates of the city open to his army as soon as we find out how they work. If we can’t we will ask his assistance in blowing them open. When you go, make sure you have the biggest white flag you can find and wave it as energetically as you can. Otherwise they are quite likely to blow you out of the sky.”
“We surrender One Ab…… Michael?” Raguel sounded confused and slightly belligerent.
“Of course we do. We make peace with the humans as fast as we can, before they start shooting. Remember what they did to the Incomparable Legion Of Light? They blew it up, so decisively that the smoke from its destruction darkens our skies and chills our air. They did that with one of their bombs and that one far from their most powerful. Do you want to see their most powerful ones hitting this city? They will, you know. They will study this city and decide that taking it by storm will be far more trouble than it is worth. So they will blow it up and all of us with it. That’s why we have done what we have done. If Yahweh had remained in charge here, he would have killed us all.”
There was a plan to fulfil still and Michael knew it had to go on, even with the lethargy of exhaustion clouding his mind. “Gabriel, spread the word of what has happened here. Tell everybody that Yahweh has gone, there will be no more purges or mass arrests, that the prisoners taken by Yahweh will be released. Tell them of the concentration camp Yahweh had built and what was done there. Also, make sure everybody knows what happened to the Incomparable Legion of Light as a result of Yahweh starting this futile war. Above all, make sure everybody knows that the humans are coming and that Yahweh’s elimination means we can save the city from their attack. Rest before you go though.”
Raphael-Lan and Gabriel-Lan waved in acknowledgement to him. Michael-Lan paced across the shattered floor and stared at the choirs and the strange creatures that had once decorated the room. The sight made him realize he had another job for the master mason. “Oh, Zacharael-Lan. We need more light in here. Could you make some holes in the walls please? When you get a chance.”
“What of us?” The soft, sibilant voice from the leader of the choir grabbed at Michael’s attention. “What do we do?”
“Anything you like.” He looked at the members of the choir with sympathy. They were the last survivors of their kind, an ancient race that had been first seduced and then enslaved by Yahweh. When he had tired of them and found others to take their place, they had been cast down. Some might survive in the very depths of Hell. If so, the humans would find them and look after them.
“We know of nothing to do. Except to sing praises.”
Michael-Lan shook his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll find an honorable place for you.” Then, a thought occurred to him. “Charmeine-Lan, go to the Montmartre and tell the guys there that they can stop playing now. Thank them from me for everything they’ve done. We’ve won. All of us.”
Chapter Seventy Seven
The Himilheothon Gate, The Eternal City, Heaven
Thirty eight thousand tons. The number echoed through Corporal William Bodie’s mind as he shuffled up to the smaller doors set in the massive Himilheothon Gate. That estimated weight excluded the pearls that studded the wooden structure. Set in the road surface were dozens of curved strips of bronze that provided a path for the wheels at the foot of the Gate. What the ground pressure under the wheels amounted to, Bodie didn’t know and didn’t care. In any case he seriously doubted whether the main gate could be opened. It looked frozen in place from uncounted millennia of static disuse. Only the smaller doors were regularly opened and closed. Through them, a constant stream of second-life humans were entering the city.