Messiah: The First Judgment, p.1Wendy Alec
THE FIRST JUDGEMENT
Messiah – The First Judgement
The Chronicles of Brothers – Book 2
All rights reserved
Published by Warboys Publishing Limited (Ireland)
70 Sir John Rogerson’s Quay, Dublin 2, Ireland
© Wendy Alec 2007, 2008
First published in hardback 2007
The right of Wendy Alec to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
In this work of fiction, the characters, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or they are used entirely fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Chronicles of Brothers: Messiah – The First Judgement
To all the thousands and thousands of our incredible Chronicles family, who so loved The Fall of Lucifer and have been desperately waiting for the sequel. After many long and circuitous months, the sequel Messiah – The First Judgement is finally in your hands!
Your passion and love for the story has meant more than you could ever imagine.
These pages are dedicated to you.
‘He rescued us when we were no longer able to fight for ourselves. Chronicles is His story.’
Lucifer – Satan, King of Perdition. Tempter; Adversary; Sovereign Ruler of the Race of Men, earth, and the nether regions.
Charsoc – Dark Apostle – Chief High Priest of the Fallen. Governor of the Grand Wizards of the Black Court and the dreaded Warlock Kings of the West.
Marduk – Head of the Darkened Councils and Lucifer’s Chief-of-Staff.
Darsoc – Princeling of legion of Grey Magi.
Alastor – Grand Wizard of the Black Courts.
Lord Astaroth – Michael’s ex-general – Lucifer’s Commander-in-Chief.
Moloch – Satanic prince – ‘Butcher’ of Perdition.
Dagon – Commander of the Black Horde.
Belzoc – Champion of Perdition and satanic regent of the dark world of the kingdom of Persia. Ruler of twenty-four satanic Princes of Perdition.
Merodach – Satanic regent of the kingdom of Babylonia.
Gaap – King of the Western region of hell: Chief elder of the underlords.
Nisroc the Necromancer – Keeper of Death and the Grave.
Nakan – Warlock King of the Necromancers of the East.
Dracul – Ruler of Warlock Kings of the West.
Araklba – Newly crowned Princeling of the Dark Watchers.
Sethunelah – Ancient leader of the Dark Grey Magi.
Huldah – Dark Overlord of the Shaman Kings.
Dagda – Newly crowned Ruler of the Necromancer Kings.
Faileen – Queen of the demon witches.
Forneus – Marquis of hell.
Balberith – Lucifer’s chief attendant.
Zadkiel – Lucifer’s aide. Banished to Tartarus – Abyss.
Ramuel, Mulciber, Vidar, Belial and Ruber – Generals of the Black Horde.
Pruslas, Barbatos and Rashaverak – Lucifer’s Generals.
Dread Councils of Hell
The Dread Warlocks of Ishtar.
Archangels of Ashtoroth.
Thrones of Folcador.
The Necromancer Kings.
Demon Witches of Babylon.
Hera and the Banshees of Valkyrie.
The Wort Seers of Diabolos.
Michael – Chief Prince of the Royal House of Yehovah – Commander-in-Chief First Heaven’s armies – President of the warring councils.
Gabriel – Chief Prince of the Royal House of Yehovah – Lord Chief Justice of angelic Revelators.
Yehovah – Ancient of Days.
Christos – Jesus.
Jether – Imperial warrior and Ruler of the twenty-four ancient monarchs of the First Heaven and High Council Chief Steward of Yehovah’s sacred mysteries.
Xacheriel – Ancient of Days Curator of the sciences and universes, one of the twenty-four ancient kings under Jether’s governance.
High Ruling Council of Angelic Elders
Raphael – Lucifer’s ex-Commander-in-Chief. Michael’s leading General.
Ephaniah – Lucifer’s ex-manservant.
Adam – Firstborn of the Race of Men.
Younglings – An ancient Angelic race with the characteristics of eternal youth and a remarkable inquisitiveness, expressly designed as apprentices to assist the Ancient Ones in their custodianship of Yehovah’s countless new galaxies.
Jotapa – (22), Princess of Jordan.
Nick De Vere – (29), youngest brother – De Vere dynasty – archaeologist. Dying of AIDS.
Adrian De Vere – (39), middle brother – De Vere dynasty. Ex-Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, newly appointed President of the United States of Europe, Nobel Peace Prize nominee.
Jason De Vere – (44), eldest brother – De Vere dynasty. US media tycoon. Owns a third of the Western world’s television and newspaper empires.
Julia St Cartier – (42), Jason De Vere’s ex-wife.
Lily De Vere – (15), Julia and Jason’s daughter. Crippled.
Lilian De Vere – (76), Nick, Adrian and Jason De Vere’s mother.
Lawrence St Cartier – (82), Jesuit Priest; retired CIA; antiquities dealer – Julia St Cartier’s uncle.
Earth: AD 28
The Nazarene – Jesus.
Aretas – King of Arabia/Petra.
Jotapa – Princess of Arabia.
Zahi – Crown Prince of Arabia.
Ayeshe – Aretas’ manservant.
Duza – Zahi’s bearer.
From ‘The Fall of Lucifer’
The Chronicles of Brothers – Book 1
The tempest built with the force of a cyclone, and a torrid inferno rose out of the blackness, illuminating the entire panorama.
Lucifer lifted his forearm from his face, his mouth opening and closing mindlessly in terror as an all-consuming apocalyptic sheet of flame descended onto his angels, the scorching, incinerating flames engulfing them. ‘The consuming fire!’ he shrieked.
All across the chamber, spine-chilling screams resounded as the renegade angelic host were consumed by the blistering fireball.
‘I’ll take Man wi
His deranged screaming resounded through the darkness as the searing tongues of fire started to engulf Lucifer. He looked down incredulously at his hands. As he watched they blistered. His broad, manicured nails twisted into talons and yellowed with age. The chiselled alabaster features became pockmarked. The jet-black eyebrows grew together. The beautiful aquiline nose became misshapen. The passionate crimson mouth grew thin and cruel.
Frantic, Lucifer put his hands to his cheeks, feeling his mangled, misshapen features. The magnificent thick ebony tresses fell from his scalp in smouldering clumps. His gold and ruby ring burned deep into his flesh.
‘Hear me, Christos!’ he screamed. ‘I, Lucifer, Light-bearer, chief prince, holy angelic regent of the Royal House of Yehovah, do now become Your sworn enemy, and treachery and iniquity will I bear unto You throughout eternity of eternities!’
Gale-force wind blew through the chamber. The angels with Lucifer – themselves hideously transformed – clung desperately to balustrades, marble columns, and overturned marble tables as they were sucked away from the throne room. They screamed frenziedly as the lightning raged.
Then, propelled by some unseen gargantuan magnetic force, they and everything in their wake were sucked towards the swirling black vortex beyond the chamber entrance.
The shadows had fallen...
St Michael’s Mount, Marazion Cornwall, England
The dark, imperial figure stood on a jagged outcrop beneath the towering granite slopes of St Michael’s Mount. His indigo cloak billowed in the violent gales that blew up from the raging winter storm in the English Channel.
‘Our Father...’ Lucifer murmured, his soft, cultured tones barely audible. A bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the soaring pyramidal mount crowned by its medieval castle.
‘...Who art in heaven...’
The heavens opened, and a driving, lashing rain hammered down.
Lucifer inhaled deeply, his face raised heavenward, bathing in the torrential downpour, and raised his hands in exhilaration to the darkening skies. Six monstrous black seraph wings rose behind him.
‘My kingdom come...,’ he cried, his steel blue eyes blazing with fervour.
The soaking strands of his matted locks thrashed against his face, masking the scarred imperial features.
‘His will be done,’ a soft voice echoed from behind him.
Lucifer smiled. A slow, satisfied smile.
‘Michael...,’ he murmured, his back to his brother, ‘you are late.’
Michael stood on the far side of the mount, his hand on his sword, silent. Lucifer pushed his long raven mane back from his face, turned, and studied his brother intently.
Michael wore the long white silk robes of his battalion’s ceremonial regalia. The sapphires on his silver breastplate gleamed, and his flaxen locks were tied back in two platinum braids. The handsome, chiselled features were set.
Grim, pondered Lucifer. No, not grim – earnest. Earnest, noble Michael. Nothing has changed, he reflected. He laughed sardonically.
‘You summoned me through the royal courts. What brings you here, brother?’ Michael strode to and fro impatiently. Lucifer grinned his old magnificent smile, relishing Michael’s frustration.
‘I was passing by the area,’ he said casually. He walked towards Michael, across the crests of the raging waves, in long, firm strides. ‘I was curious, brother.’ Lucifer drew his head close to Michael’s. ‘I would learn of the legends ... of the white rock in the wood,’ he whispered. Michael’s clear green eyes locked on to Lucifer’s inscrutable sapphire gaze. ‘Legends of Michael the Archangel...’
Michael flinched as Lucifer’s seductive dulcet tones penetrated deep into his soul. ‘The stuff of fairytales,’ Lucifer continued.
‘I traverse many lands.’ Michael replied.
‘Ah, but you reveal yourself to so few.’ Lucifer slowly, lazily, circled him. ‘They saw your apparition here in Cornwall, in the year 495.’ He gestured at a lofty crag in the distance. ‘You revealed yourself to a fisherman, a lone hermit ... a monk?’ Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who was he, Michael? Was he one of us?’ he hissed. ‘The angelic, or one of the Race of Men? Is Yehovah compelled to pre-empt my every move?’
‘You waste my time, Lucifer,’ Michael said coldly. ‘You summoned me with the royal seal, yet you speak of trivia.’
Lucifer observed him sceptically.
‘More than trivia, I think, brother. No matter, I will assuage my curiousity another time.’ Lucifer raised his hand to the skies. ‘Let us get to business, Michael – our Father’s business. And like Him, I, too, would converse of Messiah’s.’
He surveyed the craggy shores of southwest Cornwall. ‘And of this faded empire – this weakened lion ... this England.’ He swung around. ‘For she shall yet behold a king ... this year, maybe next...’
He grinned mockingly at Michael, as when they used to swordfight in aeons past, in worlds long departed. ‘Perhaps tonight, Michael, a messiah is born in Marazion.’
‘Speak plainly, Lucifer,’ snapped Michael, losing patience. ‘Enough of your parables.’
‘Ah, but do I speak the truth, or merely a fabrication?’ Lucifer needled. ‘Relay to our Father that I, too, shall send a messiah.’
‘Our Father is omniscient,’ Michael replied. ‘He knows your every conversation. Your every thought is preceded and beheld by Him.’
‘Ah, yes, but I stand by the legal process. I would have my thoughts on record in the royal courts in the codices of heaven. That is why you are here – so I meet the demands of “His” legal system.’
Michael indicated agreement. ‘It shall be recorded as you request.’
‘My strength ebbs from me...’ Lucifer scanned the heavens, strangely agitated. ‘The Nazarene is near...’
An uncharacteristic dread crossed his marred countenance. ‘You came alone?’
Michael nodded. ‘Time runs down, brother,’ he spoke softly, sorrow etched on his noble features.
Lucifer lifted his head, his breathing easing. ‘He offers repentance with one hand, yet, with the other, seeks my demise.’ Lucifer’s eyes filled with loathing. ‘Our Father is malicious.’
‘As you would have it, Lucifer.’ Michael looked at him, suddenly fierce. ‘Your brazen iniquity affects your judgement.’
‘As your shameless naïvety does yours,’ Lucifer sneered.
The two brothers glared at each other, severe, unyielding.
Finally Lucifer spoke. ‘My messiah shall rise from these isles,’ he whispered. ‘A king of politics and of industry, courted by kings and queens – a greater orator than Churchill – rises upon these shores.’ He stared out past the raging black waves to a lone star that glimmered through the rising mists. ‘I think I shall give him brothers,’ he declared. ‘Like us, he shall have a family.’
His mood changed abruptly. ‘They shall be three, even as you, Gabriel and I are three angelic brothers.’ He gave Michael a mercurial smile. ‘Three brothers of the Race of Men.’
An insane fire lit his gaze. ‘And like us’ – he bowed mockingly to Michael – ‘one shall be an insurrectionist, a renegade.’
Michael bowed his head. ‘You will lose, Lucifer,’ he murmured, ‘as you lost at Golgotha.’
‘Golgotha!’ Lucifer snarled, his countenance turning at once into a mask of hatred. He turned his back on Michael, looking out to the raging winter seas. His voice was hard. ‘Tell Jether when he sees the white rider in the heavens, my messiah will make his appearance in the Race of Men.’
And he vanished.
Michael turned as Gabriel strode out of the hanging Cornish mists, up the rocks and towards him. Gabriel’s flaxen hair fell loose over his kingfisher blue vestments. His flawless features were finer than Michael’s strongly defined ones ... gentler. But tonight his regal countenance was set.
‘His messiah will be born tonight in Marazion,’ Gabriel announced wearily
Michael bowed his head. ‘He will lose,’ he said, ‘at Megiddo.’
Gabriel nodded. ‘Yes, Michael, he will lose – but at what cost to the Race of Men?’ Together the brothers stood in silence, staring out beyond the dark swirling mists rising off the west Cornish coast, to the blazing star that now rose in the heavens over the small village of Marazion.
* * *
Monastery of Archangels Alexandria, Egypt
Two monks stood in the portal of St Michael the Archangel, the rotating telescope dome on the observatory of the Monastery of Archangels. Their features lay hidden by the grey cowled hoods of their Coptic monastic robes. They stared through the Coronado Solar Telescope directly into the Egyptian sun, transfixed by the unsettling apparition that hovered above the sweltering desert plain.
The older monk watched, mesmerized, as the spectre materialized into a sinister waxen form astride a magnificent white stallion. The form held a bow.
‘The white rider of the Apocalypse...,’ the younger whispered, fingering the cross at his chest. ‘The first seal is broken.’
‘The Son of Perdition comes forth to rule – one from the Race of Men.’ The older monk looked grimly up from the telescope into the shimmering crimson skies of the Egyptian dawn. ‘The Great Tribulation has begun.’
That dusk is still imprinted in my memory. The dusk when the sign of the White Rider of the Apocalypse hung in the Egyptian skies over the sweltering desert plains. The Son of Perdition coming forth to rule in the Race of Men. For the breaking of the First Great Seal was surely to herald the beginning of the devastations of the End of Days.
And as I stood with Jether, observing the waxen apparition, my mind raced back two thousand years earlier to a different dusk. And a different sign that had once blazed high in the Eastern skies. A sign that was to terrorize the soul of my brother Lucifer, King of the Damned. For the chilling events of the coming moons were about to change eternity in the world of the Race of Men as we still knew it. And plunge the armies of the First Heaven and the Fallen into a cosmic battle that would reverberate throughout a hundred aeons.
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