Novelist and more.
Raquel is sleeping. While she sleeps she travels on another plane. Dreamtime, Heaven, the slumbering world, whatever it is called, is as real to her as the awakened world. She finds her studies as a Warrior needs education. Education of a martial variety…
The Archangel Michael struck Raquel’s hastily uplifted shield, the blow so powerful she flew backwards, losing the concentration holding her spiritual armor and weapons, waiting to crash into either the General or the wall behind him.
Neither occurred. Landing many feet away, both the wall and General were gone, the hallway now spread into infinity.
“Concentrate, warrior,” the General’s voice echoed from everywhere.
Jerking her attention back to the Archangel who leapt in the air to spear her to the floor with his blade in both hands, she rolled several times to her left just as the impact shattered the floor.
Rolling into a forward bow stance facing him after freeing his blade, advancing again, she ran to give herself some room.
Saddled feet shook the floor as she willed her armor into being again. An explosive clash of sword against armor tossed her yards down the hall with the assembled entities cheering encouragement. She lost concentration again as she fell, banging her head to the floor, stunned momentarily.
His earth shaking steps approached. Pushing herself up, shaking clarity back into her mind, she thought of a better weapon. She sat down creating a rocket propelled grenade launcher firing it at the approaching Angel. The explosion rocking the halls as the grenade hit him in the chest.
When the smoke cleared, he remained standing, his fiery red hair blowing in the breeze, his eyes aflame, he smiled, saluting her with his sword.
Then he attacked as if untouched.
Scrambling to her feet, she willed a full-bodied shield to brace between her and his assault. Michael slashed once with the blade, now burning, destroying the barrier advancing on the backpedaling warrior.
“Wait, wait!! Is this to the death?” she cried.
“To a warrior, every battle is to the death,” the General answered.
She feinted to her left, and then ran to her right around his gigantic legs. She turned her armor into modern warfare gear solidifying around her. She spun, squatting, created an M-16 and opening fire; she didn’t know modern weaponry so the M-16 was the closest weapon she knew.
Michael stumbled to a halt dodging, twisting, and deflecting with his sword, deflecting the unending barrage, nothing seemed to hurt him.
Transforming the M-16 into another rocket launcher she saw in a movie once, opening fire again. Michael slowed but not deterred. Dropping the launcher, pulling phosphorous hand grenades from a bandolier around her shoulder, tossing each, the effect only slowing him down; he moved with a determined stride.
“Screw it! Let’s go Sci-fi!” she yelled, her uniform turning into an imagined space suit.
As a space trooper from a video game, her weapon fired a plasma beam, forcing him to deflect with his fiery blade. The rifle turned into a giant double-barreled shotgun spitting globules of corrosive emerald acid covering him in a soapy bubble, which didn’t stop his advancing. She continued her retreat changing from one high tech imaginary weapon to another but only postponing his advance.
Nothing I do stops him, it only slows him down, she thought.
She created a small robot squad attacking him from every side but, with a smooth motion, he dispatched without a thought.
“This is getting me nowhere!” she yelled, dropping all her spiritual weapons and gear.
The Archangel paused for a second before he advanced again reducing his size.
She pulled out Sparky and her butterfly knife, “Alright, you want me, come get me!” she screamed running forward.
The Archangel stopped as she screamed, jumping at him with her knife aimed at his chest as Sparky zapped toward his head.
She thought her wrist broke as he casual slapped her blade away making her spin in midair and freeing Sparky, which clattered away. She feel to the ground, rising holding her hurt wrist.
“Oh, we’re not done!” she screamed turning into a berserker.
He remained immobile as she wrapped her legs around his human sized waist and with her uninjured hand began to strangle him, slamming her forehead into his.
The Warrior Angel’s body felt like marble, she realized too late her actions were futile even as her vision swam, blood pouring down from her forehead. Michael slid his free arm between his waist and her belly casually tossing her away.
The wind jettisoned from her lungs as she landed but she fought to stand as her, the raising fiery sword coming toward her.
“No matter what I do, I can’t defeat you! You’re an Archangel! What’s the point?” she screamed.
The multitude cheered for her, for no surrender, keeping up the good fight, to never quit, fighting on to the death.
She shakily stood as he prepared to give her the coup de grace.
She addressed the multitudes, “Well, if you really wanted me to win, you could help me!”
Instantly a wall of blades, shields, and assorted weapons surrounded her. Their bearers held defensive stances toward Michael, hands and bodies interposing themselves between her and the Archangel, the mighty being glanced at the infinite entities interfering in their battle.
Then he smiled.
He lowered his sword, the fire disappearing, motioning the army to make a path between himself and the wounded woman. The brigade of warriors parted as he came forward, kneeling and bowing at her feet.
Warriors held her up as she stared down at the kneeling, divine being.
“What just happened? Did Michael give up?” she whispered.
“Indeed. You won, little warrior,” The General appeared beside her touching and healing her.
He motioned for the multitudes to remove themselves from the field of battle. Michael remained where he was, slowly standing bereft of sword, smiling in pride at the little human before him.
“Whoa, I don’t get it? How did I win? They stopped him, not me. I lost.”
“My child, do you really think the warrior multitudes present here could actually defeat the Archangel Michael?”
Michael leisurely grew to gargantuan dimensions with stretching wings spreading outward from horizon to horizon. With a slight wing shrug, the multitude staggered from the wind caused by that casual motion. He gradually faded from sight.
“You see, only the most Holy one could defeat his creation. You won because you did what a Warrior does when nothing else works or is overrun. You called for aid. You asked and it was given,” he smiled.
She nodded, “One of Robert’s rules.”
“Correct. However, remember to not abuse the privilege, for Warriors, it is a last resort. They should be able to take the fight to their combatants and hold their own.”
“So in other words don’t be a wimp, take your lumps,” she said.
“Astutely put. We know what is in store for you, we have great faith.”
He handed her knife and Sparky, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I’ve heard many times, in dreams that weren’t dreams, but messages from you. What’s in store for me?”
He became grim, “Many things, many things, small one. That is why we wished you to change your name to a fictitious name long ago. Names hold power, to be used for or against you. You are not yet ready to know what is in store. When the time comes, as they must, you will know. You will understand. For now, know you are among the favored.”
“Well, that’s a comforting thought,” she grinned.
“So are you ready for your next lesson?”
“You mean that wasn’t it?”
“As I said, in dreamtime, you can live a life in a matter of minutes in real time. It is still early; you could learn a few more things tonight.”
He motioned behind her. Two men appeared, a Mongolian warrior carrying a war axe, the other: a caveman with a blunt club. A woman came forward, lithe, but rippled with toned muscles wearing a form fitting workout suit.
“Let us see how you take on a group your equals.”
She returned the assessing woman’s gaze.
She pointed at her, “You I’m taking out first.”
The General crossed his arms, “Now that was a curious statement, why are you picking her first?”
“No weapons and she’s a woman. The most deadly of any species is typically the female. So she’s going down first.”
The woman smirked, “Try it…if you can.”
She looked at the General “So these guys talk?”
“These are the human aspects of the Warriors, so yes; the Divine hierarchy does not require speech. Oh, I should say: BEGIN!”
Without hesitation, the two females charged at each other as the males wisely held back.
To be continued…