Battle Sky (The Battle Series, Book 4) Read online

  Maddix watched the dark tunnel glow bright as the sun at midday. Even more amazing than the angels’ whirring wings, was the aroma filling the tunnel. Heaven possesses a clean scent impossible to explain and irresistible to the olfactory system. Better than the musky scent of a gentle rain, or fresh bread baking in an oven, coffee percolating in a pot, or bacon sizzling in a pan, the scent of Heaven never grows old. And the familiar scent clinging to the angels made Maddix long for his eternal home.

  Jerusalem was okay. But he preferred the New Jerusalem where God the Father and God the son live. A place where everything is right, and nothing is wrong.

  “How many angels are there, Michael?”

  “Seventy times seven thousand is what I asked for.”

  Maddix sucked in his breath. “That should be enough.”

  “We’ll make it be enough.”

  “Zarkien and his demons will fight hard. They fear the fiery lake.”

  Michael nodded. “I expect their best effort. But it won’t be enough. They’re doomed. They have been for some time.”

  The first wave of angels arrived at the archway and stopped. Not all angels perform the same duties. Although they all serve and praise the Lord in some fashion, angels are assigned to three main groups: messengers, guardians, and warriors. These angels unquestionably belonged to the warrior group. And like any wise and good soldier who respectfully salutes their commanding officer, they crisply saluted Michael. He saluted back.

  A moment later the entire angel army crowded around Michael and Maddix—no small miracle in and of itself. Michael wasted no time and got right down to business. He filled in the reinforcements on the battle plan Maddix had devised while standing outside the Church of Mary Magdalene on the Mount of Olives.

  Maddix had never seen an angel smile. Usually they’re stoic and all business. But Maddix thought he almost detected some grins when Michael explained the plan.

  “It is an ingenious plan, Andrew. The demons will not be expecting this,” one of the nearest angels said.

  A quote entered Maddix’s head. He thought it appropriate to share. “All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Sun Tzu penned these words in his book, The Art of War.”

  The angel who complimented Maddix nodded his head knowingly. “I’m familiar with Sun Tzu. I watched him lead his armies. He was a great military strategist, and he would approve of your plan.”

  “It is not a perfect plan, and we must not become overconfident in this subterfuge. Thomas Packenham, a British historian once said, ‘Nothing concentrates the military mind so much as the discovery that you have walked into an ambush,” Maddix said. “The demons will not be fooled for long.”

  “Enough talk and enough quotes. Our battle awaits us. So let us pray,” Michael said. The archangel lifted his hands skyward. And with cobalt eyes open and chin pointing upward, he began his prayer. “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. You are the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End. Your power and glory is limitless. No one can conceive your perfect holiness, or stop your plans from unfolding.

  “You thwart the schemes of the enemy, and you foil the greatest plots devised by mankind. You exalt the humble and bring down the proud and haughty. You richly provide for the widows and orphans, and you love those who love you with all their heart, soul and mind.

  “Now grant us victory over the enemy. They are gathered in great numbers, and they are arrogant and foolish. They forget that all power belongs to you. You are the Lion of Judah, and your enemies will tremble at your roar. Strike them down and feed the birds of the air with their flesh. In the name of Yahweh, I pray, amen.”

  Michael lowered his head and looked at the angels. Fierce determination shimmered in his eyes. “Now change your appearances. Dim your glory, and don’t allow your light to shine until we enter the battle.” The leader of the angel armies lifted his giant sword. “And now we fight.”

  ****

  Ari Fabish blinked his eyes. The Ultra-Orthodox Jew could hardly believe what he was seeing. The Mount of Olives was being overrun. Ultra-Orthodox Jewish men covered the hilltop like ants on a discarded watermelon slice.

  And more arrived by the second it seemed. Where are they coming from? he wondered.

  From the Garden of Gethsemane all the way up to the top where the Seven Arches Hotel stood, Ultra-Orthodox Jewish men like him, attired in the traditional clothing of white shirts, dark suit jackets, black trousers and tall black hats, wandered around the mountain, praying and singing worship songs usually sung on the Shabbat—Sabbath.

  It was truly a stirring moment. Ari had never before heard such beautiful singing. His heart swelled, and he sang along too.

  He’d come here to await Christ’s imminent arrival. Today marked the end of the seven-year Tribulation. But Ari couldn’t understand where all the Jews came from. Only a moment ago there had been an impressive crowd—tens of thousands of Ultra-Orthodox Jewish men. But now it looked like there were hundreds of thousands more.

  Ari found the sight bittersweet. He was a new Christian, a Messianic Jew of only a few days. But the bulk of the Ultra-Orthodox Jews wandering around and singing were not Christians. They were still expecting the long-awaited arrival of the Messiah, who they didn’t believe was Jesus.

  Ari felt heartbreak for his fellow Jews. They were sure to be surprised when they saw Jesus arriving in the clouds to set up his earthly kingdom. And then it would be too late. More than heartbreak, Ari felt shame. He had told no one of his conversion. He was afraid of being ostracized for his new beliefs.

  Forgive me, Jesus. Give me courage to tell someone before it’s too late.

  Ari wiped at his eyes, but continued to sing haltingly, the melody breaking up in his throat. Through tear-streaked eyes, Ari looked around at the long jackets of his fellow Jews. He tried to discern bulges. Rumor was that some of them—actually a good number of them—carried machine-guns to defend the Mount of Olives against Henrik Skymolt’s international army.

  Ari didn’t carry a weapon. He wasn’t the militant sort.

  Suddenly the crowd of Ultra-Orthodox Jewish men shrank in numbers, back to its original size. Ari shook his head in bewilderment. He hadn’t eaten or drank much in the past few days. Perhaps little food and drink had compromised his vision. This is so bizarre, he thought. Surely I’m only hallucinating.

  Chapter 49

  Mount of Olives—that same moment

  The plan is working so far, Andrew Maddix thought. He swung his flaming Eden sword with righteous anger, dispatching multiple demons with fiery swats. The demons acted confused, almost shell-shocked. And they reacted more slowly than they usually do in combat.

  To not give away the ambush, Andrew Maddix and the other saints, as well as the original angel troops had hung back in plain sight at the Church of Mary Magdalene, tricking the demons into complacency. But as soon as they saw the massive crowd of Ultra-Orthodox Jewish men transform themselves back into angel warriors, he and the rest of the army teleported to the top of the mountain where the battle commenced.

  For the moment they had the upper hand. The demons had been shoved back onto their heels. Great numbers of the faux Ultra-Orthodox Jews had secretly intermingled with the demons on their hilltop stronghold, walking amongst the demons as they lounged and conversed, unaware they’d been infiltrated by heavenly host. The first swings of angel swords cut down a third of the demons, shrinking the vast army in only an instant.

  But Maddix reminded himself that their foes still outnumbered them almost three to one. Each angel and saint would need to vanquish multiple demons.

  There were no rules of engagement. Whatever it took to achieve the task, they needed to do.

  Their goal wasn’t so much to annihilate the enemy. Their goal was to secure the moun
taintop and clear the area. Prophecy said Jesus would touch down on the Mount of Olives. And when Jesus fulfilled the prophecy, Michael didn’t want there to be a welcoming committee of demons to greet him, only angels and saints. Maddix felt the same way.

  Since the beginning of time when different tribes started warring against each other, humans had been fighting over coveted real estate, mostly hilltops. The high ground was easily defensible and difficult to take. Castles and forts and fortresses were constructed on hillsides and mountains to keep invaders at bay. The demons had the same strategy in mind.

  Screams and grunts and over a million swords clanging against each other filled the air in the spirit realm hanging over the mountain. The struggle was intense, even intimate, as there were so many combatants in such a small area that Maddix found it difficult to move.

  Two demons came at Maddix from opposite directions and ganged up on him. One demon brandished a humongous battle-axe. The fallen angel swung his battle-axe at Maddix, using a vicious chopping motion like he was splitting firewood. Maddix leaped out of the way just in time, and the battle-axe cleaved the head of the demon rushing in from the opposite direction.

  Maddix pivoted and slashed the Eden sword’s tip across the back of the demon with the battle-axe, setting his wings on fire. The demon screamed, dropped his battle-axe, and launched his body into the air, flapping his burning wings with all his power and might. Maddix briefly watched the escaping demon. He thought the ugly demon resembled a fire-breathing dragon that had inadvertently caught himself on fire.

  An angel quickly intercepted the blazing demon and knocked it back to earth, where it landed into a horde of demons, catching them on fire. More agonized screams and vulgar obscenities rang out.

  They had it coming. I’m not feeling sorry for them, Maddix thought. Not even a little.

  More and more demons joined the battle every second. They came flying out the Seven Arches Hotel in an endless black swarm.

  Maddix wondered what kind of sleep the guests in the hotel got last night, and if they awoke in a cold sweat from disturbing nightmares.

  Slowly but steadily, Maddix battled his way up the mountain. He swung his sword without letup, taking a page out of Eleazar’s playbook. He smothered his opponents, torching demons with each step he took.

  Maddix sensed an object travel through his spirit form. The object landed farther up the mountain and exploded. A geyser of dirt, shrapnel, and human bodies flew up into the air. Maddix quickly realized that the object had been an artillery shell, and that the first wave of Henrik Skymolt’s army had arrived.

  Maddix didn’t dare look behind him, but he guessed there were tanks rolling up the road. He could hear them rumbling closer. And with the tanks there would surely be ground troops.

  Machine-gun fire chattered from higher up the mountain near the cemetery, answering the artillery fire. Maddix could see the Ultra-Orthodox Jews peeking out from around grave markers and firing rifles at targets behind him.

  Similar to an echo, gunfire erupted from below. A competing fusillade of bullets whizzed up and down the hill like tracers, passing harmlessly through angels and demons, but finding their marks in human flesh. Agonized cries impossible to hear in the din, fled the lips of the wounded and dying.

  And then the tanks opened up. Maddix watched the Jews fall in great numbers.

  So much fighting. So much blood. So much death.

  Besides the good and bad spirits battling, many thousands of men fought for a city that had been the source of innumerable struggles. The outnumbered and outgunned Jews did their level best to defend Jerusalem, fighting bravely for a cause that was honorable and just. But their enemies, the countless soldiers who fought for Henrik Skymolt, fought for a man who wasn’t really a man, and a cause that wasn’t a cause at all.

  Samson appeared out of nowhere. He swatted aside a demon and approached Maddix. “I’m headed down toward the Garden, Andrew. I’m going to do something about those tanks.”

  “What exactly are you going to do?” Maddix asked. He looked all around him, leery of attacking demons.

  Samson shrugged his burly shoulders and smiled mischievously. “Disable them somehow. I’ll think of something.”

  “Don’t be long, Sam. We need you up here.”

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” Samson replied, and broke into a dead run, his long dark hair flopping on his shoulder blades.

  Maddix continued his ascent up the Mount of Olives, eyes alert and focused for his next battle. He soon spotted three demons accosting an angel. One demon hung by his feet in a cedar tree and slashed his sword at the angel below him, while the other two demons raked their swords at the angel from positions on the ground. The angel fought back valiantly, his sword glowing like a small lightning bolt, but Maddix didn’t know if the angel could maintain his attack.

  Maddix closed the distance in an eye blink. He plunged his blazing sword into the back of the nearest demon, gave the fiery blade a quick twist and then pulled out the sword. The demon’s torso turned glowing orange and then combusted. Screaming, the demon ran off, no longer recognizable as a fallen angel, just a fleeing fireball.

  Maddix then plunged the Eden sword into the lowest branches of the cedar tree. The dry-as-bones tree ignited in an instant. Flames stoked by a gusty wind, soon lapped fifty-feet into the air and roasted the demon clinging to its crackling branches. An otherworldly caterwaul cried out from within the burning tree.

  Maddix figured he’d evened up the odds for the angel, and moved on. He noticed that the demons were suddenly giving him a wide berth. And he came to the conclusion that the demons could sense the Holy Spirit fighting through him. This knowledge bolstered his confidence to keep forging ahead, to keep fighting the good fight.

  And Maddix could feel something else. He could sense the Covering—the breastplate of righteousness—slipping over his shoulders, encasing him in a supernatural body armor. He’d felt the Covering twice before, once on Angels Landing in Zion National Park in Utah, and one other time in Teredel—a dark and ghastly place in the underworld—where he had accompanied 100 elite angels led by Michael in rescuing an angel who’d been taken captive.

  The Covering is unbreachable, and available to every saint, whether living on Earth, or living in Heaven.

  Once the Covering slips over your heart, the powers of hell flee for easier prey. But the Covering only comes with an unwavering faith in God’s providence and protection.

  Maddix suddenly thought of Spencer. He was somewhere on the mountain, battling demons just like him. Dear Lord, remember Spencer—your adopted child and my son. Protect him, Lord. Provide Spencer with your holy Covering.

  Chapter 50

  Spencer Maddix and Coleton Webb fought as a team, a dynamic duo battling demons near the cemetery on the Mount of Olives’ western ridge. Over 150,000 graves crammed the cemetery grounds. Identical rectangular structures resembling crypts covered each grave, but they were only markers and not tombs. Jews had been buried here for 3,000 years, and were still being buried on the mountain.

  Jews believe the soil is holy.

  The mountain was the last place Jesus stood before he ascended to Heaven. And some think it will be the first place he stands upon his return.

  The demons have apparently figured this out. And they want to somehow alter the prophecy. Fat chance on that happening, Spencer thought. He drew back his bow string and loosed another arrow like he’d already done a thousand times. The arrow found its mark, penetrating a hard-charging demon right above the chest and just below the neck.

  Spencer quickly reloaded. He could hear Coleton Webb grunting nearby as he dispatched fallen angels with his scimitars. Sparks flew each time Webb’s scimitars collided with a demon’s sword.

  In a way, Webb served as Spencer’s armor-bearer, and kept the demons at bay while Spencer shot his bow. And Spencer kept Webb busy. He spun on his feet, spraying arrows continuously. Webb had to synch with him and spin exactly when he spu
n or risk taking an arrow from point-blank range.

  So far their partnership had worked well. Victims of Spencer’s arrows littered the grounds. Many of the waylaid demons lay sprawled atop the grave markers, adding sinister adornment to the gravesites.

  Between shooting and reloading, Spencer caught a glimpse of Samson farther down the mountain. He nearly chuckled out loud when he saw the carnage Samson doled out. The long-haired, super saint hung by his hands from a tank cannon and bent the cannon down toward the ground, disabling the tank from firing.

  Spencer could see several M1 Abrams with bent cannons. Unable to see Samson’s spirit form, the tank operators and gunners in the turrets had to be going nuts wondering what invisible force was sabotaging their war machines.

  Four demons teamed up and bum-rushed Webb. The blonde-haired saint cut down two of the charging demons, but the remaining two got through his defenses and headed for Spencer. Grabbing an arrow from his quiver with blinding speed, Spencer shot one demon, stopping him in his tracks. He retrieved another arrow from his quiver, but never got it to his bow string. The remaining demon crashed into him. The hard collision propelled Spencer backwards. He dropped his bow as he somersaulted backwards.

  Spencer rolled to a stop. He popped up quickly. But the demon matched his speed and grabbed at Spencer’s throat. Spencer didn’t possess the same skillset as his father. He wasn’t an expert in hand-to-hand combat. He may yet in time acquire the same fighting skills. But at this moment he was only an archer—albeit a very skilled one.

  The tall demon wrapped his powerful talons around Spencer’s throat and lifted him up until he was eye-level. Their faces only inches away, Spencer could hardly look at the demon’s reddish eyes.

  So hideous. So repulsive. So evil.

  Disgusted, Spencer tried to pry off the demon’s scaly talons. But the demon’s strength overwhelmed him. Spencer shot a glance toward Webb, and saw his friend struggling with another demon. Webb can’t help me. I’m on my own.