MIRIAEL APPEALS TO HEAVEN’S HIGH ARCHANGELS

(Miriael ascends in a visionary dream, where her body remains on the Earth, but her spiritual consciousness rises up into Heaven)
Miriael had made up her mind. She wouldn’t bow down to authority, she wouldn’t worry what other angels thought of her. She needed to find out about the pillar of cloud, and right now they must surely all be talking about it. If she went up to Heaven in a visionary dream, she could listen and learn the facts—and for once her invisibility would be an advantage, not an obstacle.
It’s what Shanna would do, she thought. Determination and self-belief.
In the silence of the night, she composed herself for bodily sleep while focusing her mind on pictures of Heaven. This time was much easier than the last. As if emerging from a faint, she found herself in another Heavenly scene—not one of the ones she’d been picturing.
Soft, opalescent light drifted down through the air like a very fine rain. She waited for the scene to clarify. She seemed to be standing beside a gently flowing river…
She realised then that she was in the Gardens of Prosopus. The river could only be the River Anaphar, white and creamy as milk. She had visited the Gardens only once before, but they were famous throughout Heaven as the source of manna, the celestial food of angels. And there were manna bushes all around, she now saw. The rain of light was condensing on their twigs and branches to form tiny white droplets. When the droplets solidified, they would be the manna itself, sweet as honey and subtle as air.
Looking round for the angels who gathered the manna, she saw several groups not far away, wearing the green robes of the Order of Virtues or the burgundy robes of the Order of Dominions. They gathered the manna in baskets, some singing, others talking as they worked.
By the strange logic of the dream, Miriael only had to wish…and she found herself close to a group of talkers. They were discussing the manna harvest and provisions for the Heavenly armies and which battle companies were being sent to which zone. Yet although their talk touched repeatedly on the war against the Humen, nobody mentioned the pillar of cloud.
It was the same when Miriael attached herself to other groups. Every conversation was as placid as though nothing very important had happened, certainly nothing worth worrying about. Miriael caught a reference to Asmodai and his switch of sides, but there was still no reference to the pillar of cloud. Either they hadn’t been told or the news didn’t seem significant to them.
Miriael grew more and more frustrated. Surely someone somewhere had to be worried and taking action to deal with the situation? Surely the War Council on the Sixth Altitude must be holding crisis meetings right now?
Once again, desire drove the movement of her dream. Thinking of the War Council on the Sixth Altitude, she left behind the Gardens of Prosopus on the Third and soared upwards. Altitude after Altitude went by in a rush.
On the Fourth Altitude, she saw the Heavenly Byzantium, with its ten encircling walls as if suspended vertically one above the other. Countless mighty turrets, cupolas and spires crowded behind the walls, every surface encrusted with sparkling precious stones. She passed right through the blue roof of the Fourth Altitude and came to the Fifth.
The volume of sound here took her breath away: a glorious thunder of singing and organ music. She looked out on a vast curving wall of a thousand angels, rising by tiers, candles in their hands. As each section of the choir joined in the harmony, their candles flared with a golden light. Miriael’s heart swelled at the magnificence of the music…
But already she was ascending above them. She glimpsed sweeping balustrades and balconies as she passed through the roof of the Fifth Altitude. Then she was on the Sixth Altitude, higher in Heaven than she’d ever been before. The rarified spiritual atmosphere made her feel light-headed and light-chested. The only level above this was the Seventh Altitude, which had been closed off for many hundreds of years.
She was standing on marble steps that went up to a massive double door of bronze. On the lintel above the door were words engraved: THE GREAT SOUTH HALL. She knew by reputation that this was one of the places where the War Council met.
Did she dare?
She mounted step by step and put her ear to the crack between the wings of the door. Solemn, serious voices were talking inside—solemn and serious enough to be talking about the most worrying new development in the war.
She did dare! She took a deep breath and let the dream carry her on into the Great South Hall.

13
The interior of the Hall was a miracle to behold. Circular in shape, it was surrounded on all sides by columns that curved inwards and forked into smaller branches, then smaller branches again. Miriael guessed that she was gazing at an upper extension of the famous Tree of Life. A living light flowed inside the columns like a circulation of the veins.
In the spaces between the branches were a million leaves—at least, they appeared as leaves, though silvery white and flickering. When Miriael looked more closely, she saw that they were actually Blessed Souls perched on the branches of the Tree. The whole vault was in perpetual motion with the fluttering of their wings.
Seven great hierarchs sat or stood around a table of gold. Miriael recognised Shemael, Jehoel and Anaitis, who’d often come down to lower Altitudes. She also saw the same high Aeon she’d encountered in a previous visionary dream, flanked by a pair of purple-robed Seraphim. And then there was Uriel…
The Regent of the South had once visited Miriael on the Earth, and his features were as she remembered them, etched like a crag of rock. Spiritual light streamed from his limbs, from his sixfold wings and from the terrible Sword of Judgement at his side. He’d threatened Miriael with that Sword on his previous visit, yet hadn’t judged her guilty in the end.
No one saw her or heard her as she stepped forward to listen to their conversation. This was the southern chapter of the War Council, without Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, but the southern chapter was responsible for the southern sector where the pillar of cloud had appeared. And the discussion was about a significant new development in the war.
“How do they ever hope to break in?” demanded one of the Seraphim.
Shemael nodded. “They don’t seem to remember the last time they got as far as the underside of Heaven.”
“Humen arrogance,” said the Aeon. “They never learn.”
The Council members stood, half turning towards Uriel, who pursed his lips as he listened. Then he broke his silence.
“Nonetheless, we should send reinforcements to the area.” “Already on their way,” said Jehoel at once.
“Local reinforcements, of course,” added Anaitis. “We’ll be ready if they try to creep up through passages in the ether. We’ve marked every exit, and we’ll be waiting above to pick off intruders.”
“So where are our forces now?” asked Uriel.
The Aeon answered. “Covering a mile around the point where we expect the top of the tower to arrive.”
“Let us show you,” said Jehoel, and stepped across to a map on the table.
Uriel and the others followed, but Miriael stayed where she was. She wasn’t interested in the detailed deployment of Heaven’s forces— she was interested in the Aeon’s reference to a ‘tower’. Not a pillar of cloud, but a tower. She wished they’d talk more about it.
But Jehoel was now pointing with his finger. “Forty-Fifth Company here. Twenty-Seventh Company here. Fourteenth and Thirty-First Companies along the Val Jehenna here. All prepared for action.”
A blam!-blam!-blam! on the door interrupted the discussion. In the next second, without waiting for a response, an angel burst in. Her hair flew wildly around her head, and her robes were in disarray. She flung out her arms and called out across the Hall.
“Terrible news! It’s—”
All the hierarchs frowned, and the Aeon cut her short. “Who are you? Introduce yourself properly when you enter this Hall!”
“But the Humen—”
“Introduce yourself!”
The angel paused, gasping. “Junior Warrior Angel Tamael of the Twenty-Seventh Company. A message from Commander Paschar. The Humen have broken into the First Altitude and established a beachhead in the Val Jehenna!”
Miriael had thought the hierarchs over-confident, but she’d never expected this. So soon! So easily!
The hierarchs were shocked too, but their reaction took a strange turn. “No panic.” Shemael addressed the others. “The main thing is not to show panic.”
“We’ll deal with this,” said the Aeon. “How dare they!”
Anaitis focused on Junior Warrior Angel Tamael. “Calm down now. It’s all under control.”
“How did it happen?” asked Uriel.
“That flying wing drove right up through the floor of the First Altitude and dropped off Doctors and Hypers. They punched two holes down through the ether for the tower to attach to. It shot up so fast—”
“What do you mean, ‘shot up’?” snapped one of the Seraphim. “How could it?”
“What tower?” muttered Miriael in frustration.
It was meant as a question to herself, but the words came out aloud.
“Who said that?” demanded Uriel.
The hierarchs looked at one another, then looked in the direction from which the words had come.
Miriael had been unseen and unheard for so long, she’d almost forgotten she wasn’t totally imperceptible. Without thinking, she retreated a step—and the movement gave her away even more.
“I see something golden,” said Shemael, staring hard.
“Like an angel’s hair,” agreed the Aeon.
“Someone’s there,” said Anaitis. “It’s a spy.”
Miriael protested. “I’m not a spy!”
Uriel came round the table towards her. He gestured Tamael aside. “Stand back,” he said. “I’ll make this mystery appear.”
14
Three paces away, Uriel unfurled his sixfold wings. Out and out they spread, to an incredible size.
“If you’re not a spy, don’t move,” he said.
He covered the last three paces and curved his wings around her. She found herself wrapped in an enclosure of brilliant, feathery white.
“Ah, there you are.” Uriel nodded and addressed the hierarchs behind him. “Can you all see her now?”
They clustered close and peered at her as if over the top of a hedge. “It is an angel!”
“But without the radiance!”
The space within the encircling wings seemed strangely hushed and still. Miriael was aware of Uriel studying her intently.
“I remember you,” he said at last. “You’re Miriael, the angel who fell to the Earth and survived. You’re here in a visionary dream, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Miriael agreed.
“Why?”
“I wanted to understand about the pillar of cloud and what you’re doing about it. Except now you’re all talking about a tower.”
“The cloud is an outer cover, and the tower is the metal structure inside it,” said Uriel. “As for what we’re doing about it—” his brows descended in a bristling line “—not enough, apparently.”
The other hierarchs were still working out connections to Miriael. “If she’s the angel who survived on Earth,” said Jehoel slowly, “then she must be the same angel who helped the apostate Asmodai who’s helping the Humen.”
“And the same angel who came to Heaven in a visionary dream two nights ago.” Anaitis spoke scornfully. “I received a full report from Commander Elubatel.”
Miriael faced them over the top of Uriel’s wings. She would believe in herself and not be humble. “I only helped Asmodai before I found out what he was. And Commander Elubatel’s messengers ought to have listened to me.”
“She’s been foolish in many ways,” said Uriel. “But I’m sure she’s not a spy.”
“I’m not.” Miriael’s courage was growing moment by moment. “And you all ought to listen to me. You talk about Asmodai helping the Humen, but he’s doing much more than helping. He’s leading them and controlling them. He’s the mastermind behind them breaking into Heaven.”
Jehoel shook his head angrily. “You shouldn’t have heard that.”
“We’ll soon have it under control,” said one of the Seraphim.
“Yes, and a moment ago you were saying they had no hope of breaking in. I heard that too. You underestimate Asmodai.”
“We defeated the Satan in the past, and we shall do the same with this new apostate,” said the Seraph.
“The Satan was proud and rebellious, but Asmodai’s a warped intellect. He’s far more clever and dangerous.”
“In what ways?” Uriel demanded.
Miriael thought. “Well, you know that souls of the human dead power his flying wing?”
“Thanks to you,” said Jehoel.
“Yes, but did you realise that Morphs are a completely new form of spiritual energy? He’s discovered it and harnessed it. His flying wing is probably indestructible.”
“It certainly broke through the floor of the First Altitude,” Uriel conceded.
“He’ll overreach himself,” said the Aeon. “If he tries to bring a whole army up to Heaven, the ether will crack under the weight. Like it did in the time of the Great Collapse.”
Miriael shook her head. “No! He knows about the Great Collapse. He knows everything about Heaven. Do you think he hasn’t worked out a way to stop the ether cracking? That’s what I’m saying! All the things you think will stop him… He wouldn’t have launched his attack if he didn’t already have the answers.”
The feathers of Uriel’s wings swished around her, and he uttered a deep, thoughtful sound as if clearing his throat. “And what would you do about it?”
“You need all the help you can get,” she told him.
“Hah!” Anaitis curled her lip. “She means making an alliance with the Residuals.”
Incredulous looks appeared on every face. “Alliance?” “With Residuals?”
Anaitis explained.
“It was in Elubatel’s report. She was offering us an alliance with them.
I took it no further, naturally.”
Uriel’s aquiline features and piercing eyes were so close to Miriael that she could scarcely focus. She took a deep breath. “That’s right. You need an alliance with anyone that can help you.”
“How?” asked Uriel.
“Residuals would be a new force in the war.” Miriael blinked as the archangel’s face seemed to swim before her. “Asmodai has brought in the Morphs, so you’d bring in the Residuals.”
“Go on.”
But Uriel’s voice sounded suddenly faint and faraway. Miriael struggled to go on. When she looked at the other hierarchs peering at her over his wings, their faces were growing indistinct. She must have been growing indistinct to them too, because they sounded puzzled as well as faraway.
“What did she say?”
“I couldn’t hear.”
“She seems to be fading.”
Miriael tried to raise her voice. “Don’t you see? The Humen have their beachhead in Heaven, so we’d be your beachhead on Earth. Me and them…”
It was no use. They were shaking their heads as she faded out of her visionary dream. She felt the weight of her real body below pulling her down from Heaven.
Not now, she thought. Please not now.
But although Uriel’s wings wrapped tighter around her, he couldn’t hold her up. She was sure she was dropping back down through level after level. There was an impression of tremendous speed and worlds flashing past.
Falling…falling…
A whiteness of feathers still surrounded her, but the feathers them- selves were a blur.
Falling…falling…falling…falling…

15
Miriael came back to the Earth with a thump. It was always jarring mentally, but this time it seemed physical too. She felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of her body.
She should have been lying on fur-snails inside her tent, but she was somehow out in the open. Instead of velvety softness, uncomfortable projections dug into her back. There were stars overhead and a feathery whiteness encompassing her all around. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.
Then Uriel stepped back and parted his wings. He had come down too! She had returned to the island of the Fusselfolk, but one of the four greatest archangels was still with her!
He furled his wings and waited for her to recover her breath. She realised that the projections digging into her back were the collapsed ribs of her own tent. She had come down on top of it! How was that even possible?
She sat up. Uriel took another backwards step and folded his arms. “You followed me!” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “I haven’t finished hearing what you had to say. You were proposing an alliance between Heaven and the Residuals. Why would we want Residuals as allies?”
“Because they’re on the same side as you. At war with the same enemy. They’ll be attacking from behind, where Asmodai and the Humen aren’t expecting them.”
“Yes, but they’re still only Residuals.”
So Miriael told him all the things that Residuals had already achieved, including the break-in to the Bankstown Camp and the destruction of Doctor Saniette. Uriel’s eyes widened in surprise, but Miriael could see that he believed her.
“They surprised the Humen under Doctor Saniette, and they’ll surprise the Humen under Asmodai,” she concluded. “He knows everything about Heaven and what you can do, but he doesn’t know about Residuals.”
“Hmm. There is that.”
At least he was thinking about it. Miriael waited in silence.
“Here’s what I can do,” he said at last. “This invasion of the Val Jehenna will require a full meeting of the War Council. I’ll summon the North, East and West chapters, if it hasn’t already been done. Also Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. I’ll present your case to them all as one proposed element in our counter-strategy. But I can’t promise anything.” He pursed his lips and sighed. “You know the attitude. The mere ideas of allying ourselves with Residuals… Are you asking for a formal alliance?”
“Formal?”
“Written out and signed by all parties. That’s how alliances are normally made.”
“Yes, if it’s the normal way. Like that.”
Uriel heaved another sigh. “I’ll do what I can. We can only hope.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Failure’s more likely than success.”
“Thank you for believing in me, anyway.”
“Yes, well… If I fail, I’ll try to send a messenger to tell you.”
His aura intensified as he prepared to shoot skywards. He pressed his palms together in prayer and raised his eyes up to Heaven.
“Goodbye, good luck,” said Miriael, more to herself than him.
In the next moment he was gone, leaving Miriael with only the dazzle of his departure. She blinked, temporarily blinded, and realised with surprise how fast her heart was beating.
We can only hope. She repeated his words in her mind. And I’ll hope as hard as I can hope.
She levered herself up from her collapsed tent. The ribs had been pushed over but not actually broken, so it should be possible to re-erect them. She was feeling for them through the covering when she sensed she wasn’t alone.
She swung and stared into the darkness. A dozen pairs of eyes looked back at her. The brightness of Uriel’s aura had awoken many of the Residuals.
“That was Uriel,” she told them. “He came down after my visionary dream.”
Little by little, they crept forward. It was no surprise that Ferren, Shanna and Kiet were at the forefront.
“Did he say yes to an alliance?” asked Ferren.
Miriael shook her head. “He can’t say yes by himself. It’ll take all four archangels and a full meeting of the War Council. But wait till tomorrow, then I’ll tell everyone. There’s a lot of news to tell.”
