Angelic Wars- First Rebellion Read online

  Angelic Wars: First Rebellion

  Copyright © 2019 Rick E. Norris

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Biblical quotations and allusions are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Cover Design: Melissa K. Thomas, CristoPherocious, and image licensed from fotosearch. All rights reserved worldwide.

  Luminare Press

  442 Charnelton St.

  Eugene, OR 97401

  www.luminarepress.com

  ISBN: 978-1-64388-220-8

  LCCN: 2019913834

  To my darling wife, Judy, and the brood

  we have helped reach adulthood:

  Brandon, Devin, Austin, and Amber

  Preface

  This is a novel, a fantasy. It is not an addition to the Bible, which would subject me to the punishment of Revelation 22:18. (“I testify to everyone who hears the prophetic words of this book: If anyone adds to them, God will add to him the plagues that are in this book.”)

  I certainly don’t want plagues.

  By writing this novel, I am also not a “channeller” or “medium.” That would violate Deuteronomy 18:9. (“Let no one…cast spells or who is a medium or spiritists or consults the dead. Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord.”)

  I don’t want to be detestable to the Lord.

  However, that is not to say that this novel is not rooted in biblical passages. It is.

  This novel, as well as the series that I hope will follow, is written on three levels: First: at a fantasy level like any novel that creates an alternative world to take the reader on a fantastical journey. No biblical training (or belief) is required. Second: for the readers who are Christian with some biblical knowledge. Footnotes to the Bible allows readers to refresh their memory of the Scripture, seeing the biblical parallels between characters and events. This level also mirrors the convention that history is intertwined or vaguely “repeats itself.” In the Bible’s Old Testament, there are Messianic and Apocalyptic prophesies, many of which are fulfilled in the New Testament. Likewise, I wrote this fantasy with a view that acts, locations, and even events rose in the time before the Bible was written, but in a more vivid and dynamic setting. I tried to footnote all these parallels. Third: this book can be read as a companion to a New Adult Bible Study curriculum (ages 18-25) which is available for a free download at www.AngelicWars.com.

  Acknowledgements

  It is hard to fathom the debts of peoples’ help and encouragement each of us have received in our journeys. An idea, a suggestion, or just a smile of encouragement can embed itself into our minds for years, sometimes surfacing when we need them most.

  Regarding this first novel of the Angelic Wars series, the place to start is by acknowledging my wife, Professor Judith Stepan-Norris. At the printing of this book, we have passed through forty years of marriage and forty-seven years together since the age of 15. Encouragement came in many forms: She listened to my ideas and struggles of creating a fantasy world and characters. She also commented on my drafts too many times to count. Lastly, she used her artistic talents to draw the illustrations for the book and website. She is truly a life partner and has my unconditional love and appreciation.

  The second person is Cheri Wyman. I don’t know Cheri very well. Years ago, we sat next to each other on a plane flight. I learned that she was recently widowed with two teenage girls and tested positive for Multiple Sclerosis. I told her I was thinking of writing a book about angels and their struggle to fight for Heaven before humankind existed. Despite the difficult time in her life, she focused on me. She looked at me and said, “Write the book. You have to write the book.” Here was a person who I barely knew, going through the most difficult time in her life telling (no, demanding) that I embark on this journey. It was almost like she threw me in a dingy, cut the rope, and shoved it with her heal. I had no choice but to start rowing.

  When I first started writing this book, over a decade ago, five people received my drafts, one chapter at a time. They shared in my enthusiasm and pressed me to push forward to its conclusion: In addition to my wife, Judy, were cousins: Ann Guy, Richard Guy, J. Michael Dolan, and Nancy Dolan. Their contribution and discussions helped me pull up the chain when my dingy felt weighted down and in the doldrums. Ann and Rich Guys’ encouragement has been steadfast from the first draft to publication, including the companion new adult bible curriculum.

  While on the topic of the new adult bible curriculum, two youth pastors, Willie Herath and Jonathan Solowy, helped me break in my teaching material along with comments from Johnny Blandford.

  Then there are the professional people who helped me hone my writing craft: firstly, Susan May Warren and her Book Therapy team. She was my first instructor in writing fiction, yet she allowed me to develop my own world and voice. Her “book therapy” was so instrumental, that at times I felt like she was giving me a literary frontal lobotomy. Other people like Jeff Gerke and Steve Laube also contributed to my knowledge in the early years as I sat in their courses at a writing conference.

  Valinda Harlan and Pastor Brad Bailey probably would be shocked to read their names in the Acknowledgements. Over thirty years ago when I was a new Sunday School teacher, they allowed me to write and perform children sermons for the little ones (in front of the congregation) during the weekly service. These sermons were stories that I wrote lasting no more than five minutes. The exercises gave me the opportunity to explore fantasy from a biblical perspective, while attempting to entertain the children and the adults alike.

  Christopherocious and Angela Rubien helped me to share my vision with others using their graphic and artistic skills. Christopherocious worked with me to design the Sepetemviri symbol on the cover and the “Word” sword on the spine.

  Kim Edwards assisted me in compiling our 9th inning closers. This squad included my editor, Catherine Adams, Patricia Marshal at Luminare Publishers and Penny C. Sansevieri at Author Marketing Experts. Their respective expertise took a manuscript and made it into a novel for all to read.

  Toward the end of this first leg of my journey, our son Austin S. Norris played a role in setting the strategy of releasing the novel in its multimedia format. Our son Brandon Norris formatted the Bible study online and assisted in designing the webpage. Devin Norris transcribed the music so the book’s sheet music can be freely downloaded from our website.

  My mother, Norma Geis, was the person who introduced me to the concept of faith in God at a very young age. It is hard to fathom the depth of this contribution to my life.

  Lastly, regarding the book, my Bible instructor, Dr. William Creasy of Logos Ministries, whose five-year Bible course (way back in the 1990s) made me a better Bible teacher, Sunday School teacher, and author.

  The music, however, has a whole set of acknowledgements. First and foremost is our son Devin S. Norris, who gathered up teenage musicians to perform the songs when he was seventeen years old. He was co-producer. His contribution has truly launched this project into a new world. Devin also helped me mix different variations of my music that are used on the website and promotional materials. He is a true “maestro.” The musicians who performed on the EP that is linked to the book are: Devin S Norris, Kieran Moriah, Julia Harriman, Brandon Greenwald, D.J Stanfill, Julian Trivers, Ryan Woo
lner, and J Tyler Johnson. The adults that added to the music were John Trivers, Lewis Hill, and Judy Stepan-Norris. But the music would not have surfaced in its current form if it weren’t for John Trivers and Liz Meyers, who loaned me their studio, Legacy Sound in El Segundo, and recommended a talented co-producer, Brian Humphrey. Brian put more than his talents, he put his heart into the songs.

  My deceased father, Bobby Norris (a Rockabilly singer for Capitol Records in the 1950s), inspired me to be musical. Though he never saw the impact he had on me since my parents divorced when I was five years old, I probably would not have started playing the guitar at age six if not for him, not to mention writing songs as an adult for this book.

  Chapter 1

  The hand blistered deep red as fire scorched its tortured host. Small, pale creatures burst from open cysts to feed on his many sores.

  Azarias recoiled as the wretched hand groped for his face. The walk through the carpeted amborlite fields had always been a source of a peaceful retreat from Al Birka’s busy center.

  Not this time.

  This horrific, inescapable vision stalked him even in this remote part of Heaven.

  “Azarias, help me.” The voice strained to be heard above the sound of his sizzling arms. “Help yourself. Don’t let the Creator do this to us. We belong here in Heaven. You’re next. You’ll see…” Who was this? A putrid cloud of smoke veiled the angel. How could God allow one of Azaria’s soul mates to burn? The flame scurried up the victim’s transparent wings, shriveled them, emblazed them, and finally devoured them with ferocity.

  Azarias turned his chin to the mantle above. “How could you do this to him? We’re here to serve you, to love you.” Tears etched his cheeks as the smoke rose, twisting into menacing clouds. He placed his hands over his face.

  “Stop it, Lord, please!”

  Even before he could finish his last word, the vision released him. The aromatic scent of Heaven returned.

  Azarias collapsed, fingers sinking into the grainy silicium. He wanted to claw the images and the raw, broken voice from his mind. “How could you? Why would you?”

  Movement on the prismatic horizon caught the corner of his eye. No!

  A mass of dark acrid smoke metastasized into a great storm, devouring the skyline as it moved in his direction.

  This was not Heaven. Azarias knew Heaven. He knew it from the pastel lavender skies. He knew it from the glistening turquoise brooks. And he knew it from the distant mesas dripping with golden amborlite. But not this boiling accretion of rage. Fiery pillars churned and spiraled high into the atmosphere, gutting the tranquility that existed just a moment ago. 1

  Azarias scurried to his feet.

  How had things changed so quickly? First, the violent vision, now the hunt by this tempest. Why?

  Panic propelled him up the dune.

  The rolling clouds growled as they chased.

  Flying was out of the question. He needed the Lord’s Spirit to fly long distances. And try as he might, he couldn’t summon that help.

  He stumbled, fell. Silicium coated his face, grains cutting into his mouth, suffocating him.

  Keep moving!

  Ahead, the beckoning mesas, with their embracing alcoves, called him to safety, but he couldn’t reach them by foot.

  He imagined his flesh burning like the angel in his vision, cysts bursting with infection.

  Again, lightning flashed, fracturing the Heavens and casting its image on a turquoise profundo brook in the ravine below him. His heart pounding, he staggered down the other side of the steep dune that sucked at his feet. Golden amborlite flowers on high stalks, neither aware nor oblivious to his fate, parted in response to the Lord’s Spirit that always accompanied him.

  “Oh!”

  He tripped. Frantically he tried to lift his feet out of dune’s craters, but it was too late. The dune won. He threw his arms forward and tucked his chin. He tumbled. His world went spinning before his eyes in a blur of sky, silicium, light, and dark. The slope seemed to go on forever until he splashed into a small brook of hot spiritual profundo snaking between the dunes. It infused energy into his arms and saturated his robe with a turquoise glow.

  “No, no please,” he pleaded with the profundo spirit. “I can’t bask now.” He used the stimulating jolt to aid him to his feet. When he emerged out of the brook, the turquoise bled out of the robe, returning it to its white color.

  He shot a glance over his shoulder. The clouds clawed at him within striking distance, their black fingers casting ravenous shadows. He ducked. Each bolt of lightning seemed to burn him, to incinerate his thoughts. This emotion choked him, and he could no longer smell the sweet scent of Spirit. Azarias couldn’t move his wings. The world spun; he fell.

  His unfaithfulness. That must be it—he was being judged.

  “Lord, please, have mercy.” He dug his fingers into the silicium and wrapped his wings around his face. He closed his eyes. Why had he let his pride take hold of his spirit?

  “Azarias, do not fear,”2 said a deep voice.

  Fear? Was this strange emotion called fear? Azarias labeled this feeling. He did more than label it. His mind dwelled on it. But why not fear? The Heavens were crashing upon him.

  “The Lord’s Spirit is upon you.”3

  “The Lord?” Azarias risked a miniscule peek outside the haven of his wings.

  A hazy, gray mist surrounded the once serene countryside. He hardly recognized the area.

  Azarias paused and then climbed to his feet. He unfurled his wings, but without the Lord’s Spirit to guide them, he couldn’t go far. Was the haze part of the same treacherous cloud? The thunder had stopped. An eerie silence lurked in the dim rays of light in front of him.

  Azarias stole a step. He waved his arm at the mist. It parted.

  He squinted. Four pairs of intersecting wheels hovered before him, just inches above the surface.4

  He froze, refusing to breathe. The wheels were covered with eyes—countless eyes.5 Maybe if he didn’t move, maybe his white color would blend into the haze, and they wouldn’t be able to see him…

  Then the eyes shifted and rolled. Pinpointing his presence, they seemed to cast daggers into his soul.

  They knew. Knew he’d questioned the Lord. Knew he doubted. Knew he’d been unfaithful. He covered his face and turned away.

  The mist, however, didn’t climb over him, didn’t fill him with dread. Instead, a strange feeling of peace tugged, pulling back at his fear.

  Curiosity egged him on, and he turned. This time, he did not look into the eyes but raised his gaze to the pair of bronze legs attached to the wheels. They were similar to his legs yet emitted a glow so vibrant, it refracted in the mist around them, and the reflection in the bronze seemed to multiply.6 The being had four wings, not six. This was not a seraph.7

  The clouds separated. A powerful torso and the silhouette of a head issued from bronze-edged mist and towered over Azarias. Frenzied spirits of fire spiraled round and round its thumping immensity.

  Azarias trembled.

  It spoke.

  “Azarias, I am the Guardian Cherub8 of the Creator and a member of the Holy Order of Angels.”

  The voice shook the surface where he stood, almost causing him to lose his balance. It didn’t resonate like that of a seraph, with melodic tones. And it certainly wasn’t the Lord. The Lord’s voice originated softly9 from within angels with love and compassion, not through energy waves from another source.

  He risked a full-on look. The face of a giant eagle10 gazed down from within the clouds. Its piercing, unyielding eyes could only mean one thing. God judged him through this strange being.

  And yet…. Fear Not….

  The cherub’s head rotated to the face of an ox.11 Its hot, heaving breath, like a raging bull’s,12 seemed to create the stormy vortex.

  Azarias froze. He
tried to imagine where this being hailed from. The level of the Holy Order to which Azarias belonged didn’t have guardian cherubim. This angel must dwell at…

  Azarias collapsed to the surface. It must dwell at the Lord’s Throne.13

  He closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to say. Thoughts shot through his mind at riveting speed, but none coalesced. He had never seen nor addressed anyone from the Lord’s Throne. Only special angels dwelled at the Throne.14 But he had to speak. The silence cut deeper as he lay there.

  “I—I am at your service, O Great Guardian Cherub.”

  The cherub’s head rotated again. Sharp incisors protruded from the mouth now. It struck Azarias with an intimidating majesty. It was a lion’s face.15

  What kind of being had God sent him? A warm sensation started first with his hands, circulating through his body to land with full intensity at his feet. He stiffened as hot explosions detonated throughout his wings. He leapt up.

  The cherub’s eyes shot out beams of light, cutting into Azarias’s soul. Some unknown power convulsed his body. His knees buckled and hit the surface again. He wanted to run, but fear paralyzed him. Again, the head of the powerful cherub turned. A new, beautiful, yet unfamiliar face mesmerized him. Hazel eyes, filled with more gentleness than he could bear, high cheekbones that framed a kind smile. The beauty caught and drew the fear from him.16

  Heaven always immersed angels in God’s joy, but this was different. As he continued to stare into the cherub’s eyes, he had a sense he might be looking at the likeness of God Himself.17

  “Azarias, the Lord has chosen you.”

  For what? And why? Shouldn’t he be judged?

  He covered himself with his wings. He had questioned the Almighty too often during his missions. He tried so many times to suppress them, but his inquiries were relentless. Just like during the vision, when he questioned the Lord’s motives in burning the angel. No angel had that authority.

  “He has chosen you because of your inquisitive nature. It is the foundation for your gift of discernment. Because you question, you can discern. This is the reason.”