Arithem shifted his stance. “It must be of great importance, or the Commander would not have summoned us.”
“Indeed.” And that made Zarall ill at ease, for surely it meant more trouble for Tori. As long as she was in human form, she was capable of forsaking the Father, forsaking the Commander, and losing her soul in hell.
Two massive golden doors opened, and a herald emerged. “Arithem and Zarall, Class One Guardians of the Saints and Warriors of the Most High!”
Arithem smiled and started for the steps. “Whatever the Commander wants, we shall meet the challenge, my friend. At last we may have something to do aside from standing about and fighting off the occasional dark one.”
Zarall followed, both nervous and excited. Another angel led the way and gestured where they were to stand.
Brilliant light swirled around the throne and curved over the top in a multitude of colors. The four living creatures Zarall had seen before stood beside the throne, two to the left, two to the right. Such fascinating beings with their four faces, six wings, and their wheels covered in eyes. Only the Father could create such exquisite creatures, and how blessed they were to always be by His side. The light coming from the throne was so bright Zarall blinked. The figure who sat upon it beamed like sapphire, making it hard to see His face.
Falling to their knees, the warrior angels bowed their heads.
From within the light, the Commander emerged, a human, a Son of Eve, yet also a Son of the Most High—the Father of Spirits. He was the eternal one, the Savior of all mankind, the lamb that became a lion, the Holy One, and the Commander of Heaven’s Armies. His hair was white, his eyes aflame, and He wore silver armor about His torso and legs. A sword hung at His side, and He gestured for them to approach.
Zarall and Arithem stood and stepped forward.
“I have a difficult assignment for you both.”
“We serve at your pleasure, my Lord,” Arithem said.
The Commander smiled, but then grew serious. “A formidable enemy will infiltrate the saints you are guarding.”
“Formidable?” Zarall dared to ask.
“One of the fallen ones in disguise. An enemy of high rank and great power.”
“We will defeat him, my Lord,” Arithem spoke boldly.
The Commander studied him. “Beware, Arithem. Too much confidence can lead to folly.”
“Yes, Lord.” Arithem bowed his head.
“This one is a trickster, and he brings with him a hoard of the vilest creatures. You must be on your guard at all times.”
Zarall nodded but remained quiet.
“This will be a battle the likes of which neither of you have seen. You must be strong.”
“We will.” Arithem lifted his gaze again. “What is the enemy’s plan, my Lord?”
“To prevent your wards from reaching the saints hiding in the mountains.” The Commander gripped the pommel of His sword. “He will try everything in his power to stop them, even deception, if possible.”
“Does he have the power to harm them physically?”
“Nay, only should the weakest of them grant him an opening.”
“And what powers do you grant to us, my Lord?” Zarall dared ask.
The Commander smiled, his penetrating eyes boring into Zarall with such love and peace, he nearly fell to his knees again. “You must preserve their lives at all costs, but you cannot battle the fallen one directly unless one of them commands it.”
Arithem gripped his sword. “Why not prevent this enemy from joining them? Say the word, my King, and I will do away with him.”
The Commander smiled again. “Nay, I send him as a test. He must remain until your wards pass many trials. Only then can I use them to complete their missions.”
They both nodded.
“It will be as you say,” Arithem said.
