Seraphim:The Armageddon files, chapter three. Beth-El

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
The night sky was clear and bright with shinning stars; a full moon cast its silver light down over the Sinai mountain range below it, as it had since the beginning of time.

Submitted: July 09, 2017

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Submitted: July 09, 2017




Seraphim: The Armageddon files

Chapter 3; Beth-El


The night sky was clear and bright with shinning stars; a full moon cast its silver light down over the Sinai mountain range below it, as it had since the beginning of time.

The High place on Attuf ridge had been a place of sacred Holy Worship for over four millennia. The high place was hewn from the side of the mountain itself on a large oval plateau, with bronze hand held tools by the thirteenth tribe of the Israelites, the Edomites.

 The Edomite priests venerated the stars in the night sky; they conducted their sacrifices and offerings, in the open air, under the vigilant watch of their god, Yahweh.

The High Place was strategically hewn from the mountain side, so that it was in a prime position to witness celestial events, such as the rising and setting of the sun, seasonal equinoxes marking the waxing and waning of the moon cycle.

 On the western edge of the plateau was a raised stone altar reached by climbing three stone steps. In the centre of the altar an indentation had been made for something to be slotted in. To the left of the alter was a stone basin with a narrow drain to collect the blood of animal sacrifices.

 Immediately behind this altar, was a large rectangular shallow courtyard with a stone shew-bread offering table at its centre. To the south of this, was a purification water pool, in which the priests of Yahweh would immerse themselves in a cleansing ritual or some primitive form of baptism before commencing with their rituals.

The air was warm and humid, all was silent on Beth-El, and then suddenly the silence was broken by what sounded like a huge intake of breath, as if the mountain itself had taken in a deep breath.

Peter and the Seraphim emerged from the swirling mist, which dissipated behind them.

Peter crouched over letting out a hacking cough, resting his hands on his knees.

‘I must be getting used to it? At least I wasn’t sick this time.’

The Seraphim gave him an affectionate pat on the back as if he were a pet dog, ‘Good for you,’ she sighed absently.

‘Ok, so what are we looking for here?’ Peter asked looking about.

‘If we cannot find him, then we will flush him out and bring him to us.’

‘Oh, I don’t like where this is going,’ Peter shook his head slowly.

‘He will want his infernal black sword, so I intend to use it as bait.’

Looking up into the night sky, Shani ascended the three stone steps to the altar, ‘The sun will be up soon, and it’s time to get ready.’

Taking the staff of Moses, Shani inserted the silver palm head into the slot in the middle of the altar and gave it a quarter turn clockwise.

There was a click and the sound of grinding stones as the altar slid to the side revealing a hidden compartment beneath it.

 Shani reached into the ancient hidden compartment and took out a long wooden box wrapped in bronze bands; the bands were covered in Enochian script, the language of the Angels.

‘Is that the..?’ Peter began waving his hand about as if he were wielding a sword.

Shani shook her head, and then begin to utter words in the Angelic tongue as she drew signs in the air with a finger,

‘Aen seb neqat med, Yahweh.’ And as she spoke the words, the symbols she drew in the air came to life, glowing and writhing with eldritch fire then descended onto the brass bands of the box, and with a click the bands sprang open. Shani opened the box and reached in and took out a fifteen inch long silver pole.

Peter watched in silent fascination as the Seraphim began to take out strange shaped silver objects and started clicking them together like some kind of jigsaw puzzle.

The blackness of the night had receded into the pre-dawn of the morning; the sun would be up in a few minutes. Shani twisted the staff of Moses again, the altar slid back into its original position. With the silver object completed, shani removed the staff and slotted the silver object in its place.

Peter stared at the familiar artefact. It stood out from the alter twelve inches high, it had three crescent arms to the left and three crescent arms to the right, to symbolise the waxing and waning of the moon, and at the top of the pole in the centre was a round silver disc to symbolise the full moon.

‘That’s the Hebrew menorah!’ Peter said.

Shani nodded, as she looked up behind Peter, ‘Stand to one side, Peter the sun will be up in a few minutes.

From over the rise they came, a deadly black cloud of swarming locusts, thousands of them, their wings filled the air with a dreadful hum. Shani span around as she drew her scimitars, ‘To me, quickly, Peter!’ her voice was full of urgency.

Peter ran as the swarm descended upon them. Unfurling her wings, Shani wrapped them protectively around peter and held up her swords and shouted, ‘Telana!’ the blue crystals pulsed into life, throwing up a pulsing blue translucent shield in front of them.

The locusts hit the shield with their full force, the sound of it was deafening, as the black insects thudded into the shield, some bounced off it, others just splattered as if they had hit the windshield of a moving car.

Inside the sanctuary of the Seraphim’s wings, Peter felt the calming aura of the Seraphim envelope him, he felt like an unborn child in the safety of its mother’s womb, the gentle comforting beat of her heart reassuring him that all was well.

But all was not well, Shani stumbled backwards as the relentless black cloud of insects battered into her, Peter heard her shout and scream as she was pushed back by the plague of locusts washing over her.

Suddenly, Peter found himself spinning and rolling across the ground as the deafening thrum of locusts threatened to burst his ear drums. Scrabbling to his feet, Peter looked on in shock.

Shani was in the centre of what could only be described as a tornado of locusts; they had picked her up off the ground and was relentlessly battering her, their razor sharp wings slicing into her flesh. Writhing and convulsing as if she were in agony, Shani let out an ear piercing shriek as she was tugged and pulled from all directions. With a clatter her scimitars slipped from her hands and fell from the cloud, striking sparks as they hit the stone ground. Then her body went limp and fell.

The Seraphim thumped to the ground, limp and motionless.

 Peter, too shocked to say anything, just ran to her side. Her once beautiful wings were in tatters; her skin was a mosaic of a thousand razor sharp cuts. Peter picked up her swords and waved them threateningly at the approaching swirling mass of locusts.

Peter knew he was going to be ripped apart by the black cloud, and Shani’s head would be taken for a grisly trophy, but he would defend his Seraphim with every vestige of his being, before he would let them defile her divine body.

As the locust cloud descended, it split into three thick black swarms and began to pulsate, morphing into something else, something malevolent and evil and grotesque.

The first demon to coalesce was nothing more than a great pulsating mass of gristle and bruised pulsating flesh, moving on a wave of wickedly barbed tentacles.

The second demon looked like a skinned goat with membranous wings, its overly large bulbous horned head drooled stinking saliva from its gnashing snout, and its cloven hoofs clacked on the stone ground as it stepped forward.

The third demon stood upright, but swayed like some anthropoid abomination, its red blistered skin glistened and oozed stinking yellow puss, its lips peeled back to reveal thick ripping tusks.

Peter stood trembling with abject terror and revulsion at the shambling horrors before him. But he would not give any quarter to them. Holding the blades up, he snarled, ‘Come on, you ugly fucks, it’s time to carve you up!’

A rumble of thunder boomed from above, the demons froze and looked up; Peter feeling dread seeping into his soul took a peek upwards.

Two balls of bright orange flame came streaking down from the sky above, like comets leaving fiery trails behind them.

Peter shook his head, ‘What, now?’ he sighed in dismay, then threw himself over the Seraphim as the comets hit the ground almost shaking the entire mountain. Peter felt a blast of intense heat as the comets struck; there was a gurgling scream and the sound of weapons being drawn, looking up, Peter’s eyes widened in awe.

Peter had never seen them before, but his studies in Angelic lore told him who these two arrivals were. Archangels, they were different to his seraphim, they had one set of huge white feathered wings, where Shani had three smaller sets of wings. They were huge in stature, over six feet tall, they wore silver polished breastplates with glowing sigils emblazoned on them.

The Archangel carrying, what could only be described as a gaff hook in one hand, and a saw toothed sword in the other, was Azazel, his sigil glowed deep blood red on his breastplate

The other Archangel carried a round shield and scimitar, similar to Shani’s; he was, Samael and his sigil pulsed with an orange light,

Without a second thought, the two Archangels leaped into the air toward the demons, weapons at the ready.

Peter looked on incredulously as Demon fought Archangel. Weapons clashed, sparks flew, screams sounded in his ears, threatening to drive him insane with their unholy cacophony.

 Unholy Claws scraped armour, divine steel bit into monstrous flesh, slobbering jaws gnashed and spittle flew, blades drew blood, sanguine droplets splattered over the ground, Angel fought Demon and Peter’s head was sent spinning from the spectacle of it all.

Azazel hooked the goat with his gaff and pulled it into sword range, the saw-tooth blade bit into infernal flesh, black stinking filth spurted from the wound, Azazel thrust his sword deep into the beast’s body, the blade ignited pouring its purifying divine fire deep into the creature’s body burning it to black cinders.

Samael charged the bulbous tentacle demon, hacking and severing its fleshy appendages, ramming his shield into it, stunning it, he thrust his blade into the bulbous body, his blade, too poured divine fire into that abominable meat-sack charring it to black ashes.

Together the Archangels descended upon the ape creature, hacking, shield bashing and stabbing at it, the creature stood little chance against two Angelic warriors. It fell to their weapons and screamed as they incinerated its body.

Peter lowered the Scimitars as the Angels approached, kneeling down they laid their hands on Shani’s limp body.

‘Is...She...?’ Peter’s voice broke off in a choke; he could not bear to say the word.

Samael looked up, his golden eyes shining like the sun, ‘No, but she is badly wounded.  Gathering her up in his arms, Samael walked over to the shew bread offering table and laid Shani down on it.

Taking up positions at her head and feet, the two Archangels spread their white wings, raised their hands heavenward and began to chant as the first rays of the breaking sun crept over the mountain top, hit the moon disc on the menorah and was reflected down onto Shani’s body on the offering table.

Peter watched in silent prayer, as Shani’s body began to glow as it was bathed in the light of the sun, feeding and regenerating itself from the healing touch off the sun’s reflected rays.

 Like he had seen in the chamber of the tetragrammaton, the tattoos on the Seraphim’s body lifted from her flesh and circled above her like some incredible scene from a planetarium, it was as if the solar system of stars and planets had come to her, rejuvenating her wounded body.

The light was almost unbearable, but Peter could not tear his eyes away, as Shani’s body rose up, her wings spread wide shinning and repaired. With a beaming smile spreading across her angelic face, Shani floated down toward Peter.

Peter’s eyes overflowed with tears of relief, as she cradled his face in her hands. The sensation of peace and love that flowed from her touch was almost too much to bear.

‘I thought I had lost you,’ Peter whispered.

‘Not this day, my friend,’ Shani whispered kissing Peter on the forehead.

The touch of her lips on his flesh filled Peter’s body with renewed vigour, his heart melted as it always did when the Seraphim touched him. Falling to his knees before the Seraphim, he held out her scimitars.

Shani took the blades.

Turning to the Archangels, Shani’ bowed her head to them, ‘I need to enter the tomb.’

The Archangels stood aside as Shani held her blades up and brought the crystals together in the shaft of sunlight and chanted, ‘Mhr’em, aelph tamatvie silre.’

Blue lightning crackled from the crystals and danced across the surface of the shrewbread table, with a grinding sound, it slid backwards revealing a flight of descending dust covered stone steps.

Peter followed the Seraphim down the steps into the chthonic darkness of the tomb.

Ares selkr ceth alimka,’ Shani’s musical voice echoed around the chamber. The scimitar crystals cast an eerie blue light, illuminating their surroundings. The tomb was quite small round in shape and simple.

Sitting in the middle of the tomb on a small pointed dais was an oblong granite sarcophagus engraved with hieroglyphics, and what looked like Isis wings spreading out from the four corners. The lid was also decorated, running down its length was a cartouche with a name inscribed inside of it also in Egyptian hieroglyphs, but above the cartouche was the symbol of the Hebrew menorah with a sun disc above it, with seven rays spreading out ending in hands with the middle, seventh hand holding the Egyptian ankh, the symbol of life eternal in its grasp. Walking around the coffin looking at the dais, Peter realised it was a six pointed star made from two triangles, one inverted on top of the other.

Peter whistled as he walked around the sarcophagus, ‘Well isn’t this place an enigma.’

‘What makes you say that?’ Shani said.

‘Well just look at it,’ Peter replied sweeping his arms around, ‘ a coffin covered in Egyptian Hieroglyphs with the Hebrew menorah symbol on it and the Egyptian Atenists sun disc above it sitting on a Hebrew star dais?’

‘It’s simple really!’ Shani mused, ‘They were two different cultures slowly becoming aware of the true order of things in the universe, all they needed was a friendly nudge toward each other, so that they could share their ideas and fuse into one, stronger order.’

‘Oh I see,’ Peter nodded, ‘and don’t tell me, it was you who did the nudging?’

‘Well, not me personally, but that is what we do in the universe, Peter, we guide, we inspire, we guard and protect, that is our divine purpose, after all.’

Peter sat on the steps with his head in his hands, ‘You know, Seraphim all of my life I have buried my head in books, or worked in dig sites in all weather conditions, scraping the dirt away to get a glimpse of the past, to learn who we really are. And then there’s you, who have lived our history, damn, even helped shape it, you have been there, where I have wished to be, I envy you.’

Kneeling down in front of him, Shani lifted his chin up, ‘You are living it, Peter, everything that we are doing at this moment is making history and shaping the future at the same time, you got your wish.’

Peter just smiled then took her hands in his and held them to his forehead, ‘Thank you!’ he whispered.

Moving over to the sarcophagus, the Seraphim slid the solid stone lid aside as if it weighed nothing, instead of the half a tonne it actually did.

Moving to her side, Peter looked into the coffin and gasped in awe at the wrapped mummy of Moses.

The bandages were as white as the day they had been used. The mummy had six golden bands wrapped around it embossed with hieroglyphics; Peter recognised them as wards of protection from the Egyptian book of the dead.

But what had Peter gasping in awe was the death mask covering his head and shoulders.

The face of Moses was so life like, it was made from the purest gold, every nuance of the face had been captured, and it was a strong and benevolent face with a slight smile. The eyes were bright and sparkling made from mother of pearl and dark blue sapphires. But what made it more wondrous was the head dress. Two curved bull horns with a golden sun disc held between them. And lying at the mummy’s side was the dreaded sword of Abaddon.

Reaching in, shani took the sword. If the scabbard was anything to go by, then the sword was huge, at least four feet long and six inches wide. The handle was a foot long and black as coal, yet when the light struck it, it gave off a deep eerie purple tinge. The pommel was decorated with a grotesque screaming gargoyle head, the cross piece was twisted like some demon spawns deadly talons.

Peter shuddered just looking at it.

‘Armaggedon, the destroyer,’ Shani growled distastefully. ‘If Abaddon takes control of this sword, then he will be able to break the seal on the Tetragrammaton and release the legion of Demon-spawn within.’ Shani turned to Peter, ‘Once the sword is removed from this tomb, then it will call to its master, and he will answer that call. We must not let him get it, Peter, the fate of this world depends on it.’

‘Then how do we stop him?’ Peter asked nervously.

‘There is only one thing powerful enough to stop this Demon, we must go with all haste before he and his minions catch up to us.’

‘Ok what do we need?’ Peter asked a feeling of doom creeping over him.

‘We are going to Memphis to retrieve the Ark of the Covenant!’

‘If you are going to tell me the Ark of the Covenant is at Graceland in Elvis Presley’s tomb, then I’m out of here!’ Peter smirked.

Shani stood in dumb silence with knotted eyebrows, and then shook her head, ‘Why would it be there?’ she asked in all seriousness.

‘Really!’ Peter laughed, ‘I was joking!’

‘Oh, right!’ the Seraphim shrugged blankly, ‘I was actually referring to Memphis, Egypt, Saqqara to be exact in the lost tomb of Alexander of Macedonia.’

‘Ok, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.’ Peter babbled excitedly.

Climbing the stone steps, the Seraphim and her companion left the tomb of Moses once more in silent darkness.



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