Free Fall of Lucifer by Wendy Alec

hint of curds!’
    Jether moved to the centre of the tower to the large golden table surrounded by eight golden thrones where the angelic zephyrs of wisdom and revelation raged in eternal cyclones. He sat down on one of the eight jacinth thrones, and the zephyrs immediately subsided to a gentle breeze. Jether breathed in the invigorating aromas of the myrrh and frangipani that swirled in the gusts over his head. ‘Tell me of your musings, revered friend.’
    Charsoc sat on his throne and closed his eyes in bliss. ‘I reflect on the sacred mysteries of Yehovah and of my journeyings to the treasuries of the winds and the snow,’ Charsoc crooned, breathing deeply of the zephyrs. ‘I think of the sacred vaults of the cherubim. I muse on the instant I witnessed Yehovah as He spread out the firmaments of the universes as a molten mirror . . . I have seen where the winds take their course and the hail is formed.’ He inhaled the perfume of frankincense and closed his eyes. ‘All these marvels of the angelic universe, I ponder.’
    They sat in silence a long while.
    ‘Yet you are disquieted, my age-old compatriot,’ Jether said.
    Charsoc opened his eyes. He clasped Jether’s old veined hand in his own. ‘You are too much a seer, my time-honoured companion.’
    Jether nodded. ‘We have travelled many roads these past aeons, venerable friend. I know there is aught that weighs upon your soul.’
    Charsoc rose and walked to the very edge of the Tower of Winds, where the zephyrs raged more fiercely. He turned to Jether, his hair and robes blowing violently in the rushing tempests. ‘The sanctity of our angelic world must be protected at all costs, Jether.’ He spoke softly but with passion.
    Charsoc strode away from the tempests back towards the lush manicured gardens. Bashkar flew at once to his master’s outstretched hand. Charsoc looked back at Jether over his shoulder. ‘Do not fret for me, cherished friend.’
    And he vanished into the white rushing mists.

Chapter Six
    The Revelator
    Gabriel tossed and turned on the royal blue silk sheets, sweat pouring from his brow onto his pillow. His breathing was shallow and erratic. His eyes were tightly shut, his flaxen hair matted with sweat. ‘Sedition,’ he muttered.
    Michael stood at the door of his bedchamber. He stared at Gabriel, his face troubled. He strode over to his brother’s side. ‘Gabriel,’ he whispered, grasping his shoulders.
    Gabriel’s eyes rolled back.
    Michael shook him. ‘Gabriel!’
    Slowly Gabriel’s eyes focused. He sat up, trembling. ‘Michael . . . the dreamings . . . they have become unendurable of late.’ Great sobs racked Gabriel’s chest. ‘Kingdoms rising . . . falling. The race of men . . . Yehovah . . . treason.’ He flung his hands over his face.
    Michael stared at his younger brother. Helpless.
    ‘There is no danger in our world, Gabriel,’ he pleaded. ‘It is just dreamings . . . imaginings.’
    ‘Michael?’ Jether’s voice was soft.
    Michael turned, visibly distressed, to Jether, who stood in the doorway. ‘Each night I have heard his screams, Jether. He suffers so. It becomes intolerable.’
    Jether moved towards the bed, and the light from Eden’s pale moons fell across his face. It was drawn. Haggard. ‘It is the cost for the gift he bears, Michael.’ Jether was quiet for a long moment. ‘He is the revelator, Yehovah’s seer. Each night his dreamings take him through the aeons to future worlds. He sees the travesties, the devastation, that are yet to be wreaked upon our kingdom. He carries these visions in his heart and in his mind.’
    Michael shook his head, confused.
    Jether smiled compassionately. ‘You, my son, bear a different burden. Gabriel, the revelator – Michael, the warrior.’ Jether closed his eyes. ‘The wars he sees, you will yet fight. Great will be your lot in the aeons to come.’
    ‘And Lucifer?’
    Jether was silent. His forehead furrowed. ‘Leave us, Michael. I would