Proximus

…angels who did not keep their proper domain.

Jude 1:6

Proximus skimmed along the tree tops. Although he could not see the shimerith ahead he sensed the recent disturbance of its passage through the air.  Shimerith were fast but they had to rest eventually. He would follow it at leisure.  He must remember to extract from the girls the secret of their control over the animal before he dispatched the rescuer and handed the dark haired beauty over to his besotted son.

The beautiful blue of the great sea shimmered beneath him. The many-hued green of the forest stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see. For all his acuity, he failed to see the small ship below him.

What was his youngest son up to, he pondered. He had never had any reason to doubt the loyalty of his three sons. They were knit together in a common bond; exercising power over the race of men. He couldn’t help a smile curling the corner of his mouth. It had been magnificent fun so far except for the threat of the man they called Noesh.

The race of men…a feeble race but useful as slaves. Ah, the beauty of their daughters!  Emotion roiled through him  as he remembered the first time he had laid eyes on Resinna. Her eyes, the texture of her skin, even the smell of her had intoxicated him. He had watched and waited and longed for her. 

His brothers were reluctant at first. Eventually, they broke through bonds of their natural restraint and swooped. They all came at once, crashing through the Barrier between heaven and earth with a thundering roar and a crack of exploding light. In front of them lay the house. As his Fallen brethren flittered off in so many different directions, Proximus tore the door off the house and threw it. It landed with a thud many moments later.  

Resinna’s father leapt to her defence. It was his last action. Under the mesmerised and horrified gaze of her mother and sisters, Proximus gathered her up, unhindered, and bore her away. She was shaken but there was a gleam in her eye. She did not mourn her father long.

Dear Resinna, he mused. She was a good pupil. She remembered every lesson he taught of the dark arts; the magic, the sorcery, dark healing, human sacrifice and she soothed him through the deep trauma of becoming Earth-bound. 

“You will establish your kingdom here,” she said, “my race are no match for you or your brothers.” 

Her eyes ran admiringly over his fine stature.

His Fallen brothers suffered too. The heavens, the whole host of stars, all lost to them. They, beings of great power, who had traversed the stars and seen the wonders of the universe were reduced to confines of Earth. They retained their great strength. They could fly and they were more subtle and cunning than Man but they were not of the heavens any more. 

So the subjugation of Earth began. His brothers spread out. They took many wives, of any they chose and had many children. Fearsome children. They were immense, they were strong and they had an appetite for violence. Men called them Earthborn.

It was Resinna’s brain child to establish a formal worship of the Fallen Ones. The priesthood of Asherah, she called them. With the unearthly abilities the Fallen Ones possessed, it had been easy to inspire awe, dread and fear into the gullible humans. In fact, they came willingly. Willing to bow and worship. Step by step they ventured further and further into deviant practises until even offering their babies in the Fires of Molech became normal.

Soon the cities in the east and the west and the south were all over run with the Earthborn and with their offspring. Although not as powerful as Earthborn, and certainly not as powerful as the Fallen Ones, these descendants had a drive for plunder, debauchery and violence. They ravaged and they consumed all the produce of the earth. Proximus laughed aloud.

Most places on Earth had become very, very dangerous. Proximus had led his brothers, encouraged and rejoiced with them but he was apart from them. He and Resinna had no children and he refused to take any other wife while she lived.

He had decided to leave his brothers, to go north to the more remote and untouched places. He went with Resinna at his side, spending time in different cities heading ever northward. It was in the higher altitudes that Resinna had finally conceived and borne him children. Sons, one, two, three; Gnoster, Nicea and Altor.  Proximus’s ambitions ignited.

He sighed with pleasure as he counted the cities under his dominion. The north was yet a vast uncharted area, thousands of leagues. There were many cities with surrounding small towns and villages in the lower regions of the north but in the higher regions there were at least six huge cities. Each of these were ruled by a different dynasty with a king or queen on the throne.

Uruk had fallen. He grinned. The fools. They had barricaded their stout walls and gathered their armies. His smile was wolfish. It had been a great fight. He had struck fear in their hearts with his dark, war-hardened army. News of their atrocities had travelled fast.

They moved on to the next city, it too fell after a mighty clash.

Then Arca, beautiful Arca, the jewel of the north which lay at the head of a lush, green plain. He had gasped when he’d first seen it. Its beauty struck a chord in his heart and an aching nostalgia for the wonders he had lost. He had closed his fist around it tight. It was now the primary residence for himself now that Resinna had passed, and for his sons.

Gnoster and Nicaea departed with their own war parties. Gnoster went to Assinia. Nicea went to Kirdol. They had sent word that things were going well. It would take time for their armies to besiege and conquer.

Proximus frowned, his thoughts turning to his youngest son. Now what was he up to? Perhaps he had allowed Altor too much leisure. Time to think treasonable thoughts. Time to desire Arca for himself.

Yet sincerity showed in his eyes when he, Proximus, challenged him in the forest. Perhaps this girl would give him something else to think about. At this thought, Proximus flicked back into Earth’s dimension. He was startled at how far he’d come. Shadows glimmered across the sky. Soon twilight would shroud the land. The shimerith was nowhere in sight.

His face darkened also. That animal was too clever by half. There was no point in continuing the search at night. He would return tomorrow. Proximus slipped back into the other dimension and headed back to Arca.