The Crossing Point

by August Arrea

  Gotham stopped abruptly in his tracks and grabbed hold of Damiel tightly at the shoulder, his eyes narrowing its flame. “And certainly you, Damiel, of all people have not let slip from your mind that no one has made the acquaintance of the dangers which lurk just beyond these borders more intimately than I. Certainly no one carries more deeper the scars.”

  The words seemed to take a visible and rare hold of Damiel and made him shrink back within himself.

  “Fair enough,” said Damiel coolly. “But tell me…how exactly do you plan to approach the White Circle about this? I know you’re not naive enough to think your unexpected calling won’t be met with an outcry of protest, to put it mildly.”

  “I will deal with the council—and Anahel—if only to remind them of Eden’s duty,” replied Gotham before leveling a more earnest look on his angel friend. “And I am hoping I can count on your support.”

  Damiel was taken aback at such a suggestion. “You dare petition me for such a thing at the same moment I find myself questioning whether or not I’m abetting in the commission of treason by accompanying you through Eden this very moment? You ask a lot.”

  “I know what I ask,” agreed Gotham with a subtle nod. “But, like you, I am one of great reserve and thoughtfulness, and you know I would not set forth into motion any action I thought would bring about any detriment. Especially here, to this place.”

  “Why then, can you tell me, do I have such an unsettling feeling gnawing away at my insides?”

  “You, Damiel?” said Gotham with a grin. “You the most fearless and brazen of God’s winged creatures, whose only reaction I’ve seen come from you in the face of Furies, Infectors and all our dark nemeses is the lending of a hearty chuckle—”

  Damiel, though, quickly cut the angel off sharply. “This goes beyond the Furies and Infectors, Gothamel. In an instant, we have now suddenly found ourselves willingly arousing the burning embers of the Underneath itself.” His face, at once both beautiful and strong, offered for the first time that Gotham could remember a fissure of worry.

  “Trust me, my dear Damiel, all will be right,” said Gotham in a calming voice while clasping the back of the angel’s neck which he stroked reassuringly. “He may be of his father, but his father he is not. That you will see.”

  ~~~

  Again, they resumed their way along the earthen path and soon caught up with Jacob who was standing still as a stone facing away from them and looking off in the distance. As they moved toward him, he raised his hand and waved to them to be quiet and cautious in their approach.

  “What is it?” whispered Gotham, suddenly at alert.

  “Over there.” Jacob pointed in the direction of a cluster of trees that gave way to a small clearing. There, leg-deep in a feathery sea of fern, stood a deer and her fawn.

  “We have deer back home, but I’ve never seen one with a baby.” Jacob’s awe could be heard even in his whispered words.

  Gotham brushed past Jacob and, as he did, the boy grabbed hold of him.

  “You’ll scare them off.”

  A smile came to Gotham’s face and he looked to Damiel, who was also smiling, and winked. “You have much to learn about Eden.”

  They’d taken only a dozen or so steps when the sharp snap from a brittle twig from somewhere in the distance called Jacob’s attention to the fact they weren’t alone. Again Gotham felt a tug to his arm, and when he turned, he found the boy’s eyes frozen wide with surprise.

  “Forget the deer, and tell me that’s not a pack of wolves I’m looking at right at this moment,” said Jacob.

  Gotham followed the boy’s line of sight to the stretch of forest on the opposite side of the path upon which they walked and sure enough, emerging from amongst the trees, five wolves suddenly appeared trotting down the Forest slope. Two looked to be twins with their coats carrying nearly identical gray and white markings. Another was colored red and white while the fourth was as black as night with pearl white eyes shining brightly from behind the ebony pelt. The one who seemed to be leading the pack was as white as the black one was dark, and appeared as a fast-moving iceberg floating gracefully amongst the trees. They were large; larger than Jacob imagined wolves could be, and they were quickly descending the slope.

  Jacob’s gaze shot to the deer and her fawn, both seemingly oblivious to the pack that was quickly making their way in their direction.

  “They’re going to attack them!” he gasped.

  The mother turned her head and looked in the direction of the approaching wolves with her large dark eyes that surprisingly mirrored no cause to take flight.

  “Why don’t they run?” asked Jacob with growing alarm.

  “Obviously, you keep forgetting where you are, and more importantly where you are not,” said Gotham who appeared unflappable in the face of the advancing wolf pack. And with that he cupped a hand to his mouth and let loose a loud bark-like cry that tore through the thick blanket of silence engulfing the Forest. Instantly, the white leader broke its gait and turned its gaze in the direction of where the angels and Jacob were standing. Seeing them, it immediately left the company of the others and made its way toward them in full sprint.

  Jacob remained fast where he stood between Gotham and Damiel, secure in the comfort that came from being flanked by these two mighty winged beings he knew were armed with swords. Yet it was not enough to keep his heart from pounding harder inside his chest at the sight of a wolf tearing toward him. Then, suddenly, it was upon them, just a few feet away, when it leapt up from the ground. Jacob waited for the sounds of growling and gnashing teeth, but instead what followed was a loud panting and a friendly chorus of piercing yelps and whines. The wolf had attacked Gotham, but with the slobbering licks a house dog unleashes when greeting its owner returning home. It was truly a sight to see the wolf up on its hind legs hugging the angel who returned the greeting with a vigorous rubbing of its thick white coat.

  The wolf then hopped down and repeated its affectionate show onto Damiel, and when it had finished it looked to Jacob who couldn’t keep from inching backwards somewhat when the animal moved closer toward him while giving him a quick curious sniff. And when the wolf rose up on its hind legs and draped its front paws over his shoulders, Jacob’s breath caught itself in his throat, for the size of the beast alone was enough to intimidate him. Then Jacob heard a faint whimper escape the canine that was anything but threatening or ferocious, and he felt a nuzzle to the side of his face, followed by the warm wetness of its tongue, and he knew there was nothing to fear from the animal.

  “Check it out!” he then said to Gotham and Damiel, motioning to where the deer and her fawn, not looking the slightest bit spooked, mingled with the other wolves as though they themselves were deer as well.

  The trio made their way over, and to Jacob’s amazement even their own presence didn’t seem to bother the deer, who without any sense of timidness came up to him nudging his hand for a pet.

  “It’s like I stepped into a Disney movie in a strange, spooky way,” said Jacob, sliding his hand across the deer’s soft chestnut brown fur.

  “There’s never been a reason or cause in Eden for creatures of the land or sea to fear humans nor prey on one another,” said Gotham.

  They stayed a short while until the wolves decided it was time to move on and disappeared into the thicket, and the deer and her

  yearling soon after followed. Then, when the trio started on their way once more, Jacob felt something following close on his heels and discovered it to be the white wolf who had remained behind from its pack.

  “You better get going and catch up with your friends,” said Jacob, finally stopping and motioning to the direction of the Forest the other wolves had run off. The wolf responded by sitting down and letting loose a loud bark. Its translucent white eyes framed within a thin sphere of piercing blue stayed fixed on Jacob.

  “Looks like you’ve got a new friend,” said Damiel.

  “What am I supposed to do? I can’t keep a wo
lf!” replied Jacob.

  “You’re quite right about that. And if it’s any consolation, you won’t be,” said Gotham. “He’s chosen you.”

  Before Jacob could ask, Gotham continued on his way with Damiel without any further explanation.

  Chosen me? Jacob thought. As what?”

  ~~~

  It soon became clear that this new wondrous place known as Eden stretched much further and wider than it first appeared from the overhang outside the threshold of the Emmaus Corridor, and before long, Jacob began to ponder the words Damiel muttered to him when they stepped foot past the first tree, and wondered if the Forest would indeed ever come to an end.

  To help pass the time and draw Jacob’s attention away from the growing miles being clocked beneath his steps, Gotham and Damiel took turns schooling the boy about the strange new world into which he had stepped. Now and then one of the angels would cry out with strange sounds, and each sound would bring forth a new kind of animal from within the Forest. The mightiest of birds from owls and great eagles to the most delicate of sparrows and hummingbirds would swoop down from the canopy of tree branches stretching overhead and come to rest on the shoulder or arm of the angel who had called it. Then there were the beautiful exotic creatures of flight. Many looked to have been created by the strokes of a paintbrush; their plumes brightly tinted and patterned in every imaginable color, and the feathers on their heads coiffed into showy headdresses and their tails draped like the trains of elegant evening gowns. From the veil of brush, animals of the four-legged variety emerged: Hyraxes, quoll, bears, foxes, tree mice and hares, and stags with tree-like antlers. There was also an equal number of creatures to come forward which Jacob had never before seen, nor would he ever beyond the reach of the Forest where they had long been snuffed out from existence in the outside world. Like he did with the wolves who came before, Jacob was at first apprehensive of the creatures who came within petting distance, particularly when he caught sight of a Bengal tiger with its white fangs slinking its way down the Forest slope of trees toward him. Yet like the wolves, Jacob quickly found the animals to be docile and nonthreatening.

  The intermingling with the woodland creatures made the hours of walking pass quickly by, and eventually the trees began to thin and, in the distance, a break in the Forest could be seen. The mist began to recede as the thin sunlight gradually grew stronger and the blue sky began to reveal itself overhead. As they drew nearer, Jacob noticed the path before them began to stir, slightly at first and then more noticeably.

  “Look at the ground,” he said to Gotham and Damiel, bringing the three of them to an abrupt stop. Quietly they stood, including the white wolf, their eyes fixed on the ground before them. Suddenly the faint movements gave way to a burst and the ground appeared to spring upward into the air, and what had been thought to be a dirt pathway sprouted wings and began fluttering.

  “Butterflies!” gasped Jacob with surprise.

  As they took to the air, more and more stirred along the Forest floor where they lay camouflaged. And as they unfurled their wings they revealed an explosion of pulsating colors: red, green, yellow, blue, orange. Soon hundreds became thousand, and thousands became tens of thousands, and still they came. They rose upward in spiraling columns of brilliant hues and Jacob followed them with eyes glad for the sight as they climbed toward the treetops. Their presence seemed to magically stir to life the leaves of the trees. Looking closer, Jacob realized what he first thought to be leaves were even more butterflies. They were covering the branches in the millions hanging in massive clusters. Then, in an instant, they sprang forth in an extravaganza of dazzling color worthy of a Fourth of July fireworks finale. They took to the air in the same skilled manner as a flock of birds, maneuvering their synchronized movements in a way to segregate themselves by color. And like parade ribbons, they delicately drifted through the air circling around the spectators below and eliciting a chorus of excited barks from the wolf. Jacob sank to his knee beside the wolf draping an arm around his new-found companion and together their mesmerized eyes followed the entrancing movements filling the air around them.

  “I don’t know about you,” he whispered to the wolf, “but I thought it would take more than a bunch of butterflies to leave me speechless.”

  ~~~

  When they finally emerged from the Forest, they found themselves on the edge of a large swath of emerald grassland. The path they had followed for countless miles had now been replaced with miles of green rolling hills outlined by the divided Forest which continued to press on northward along its surrounding borders. As they stepped out into the knee-high grass swaying like ocean currents in the breeze, a black-chested snake eagle came soaring from behind the tree tops. Its piercing squawk of a cry rang out loudly, and as the shadow cast down by the eagle swept past across the sea of green, the white wolf reared up and tore after it in swift chase with Jacob quickly following behind.

  Jacob crossed the slopes of two lazy hills with amazing speed, yet not fast enough to gain on the wind-like movements of the wolf. When they reached the top of the third hill the sight that suddenly came into view brought his feet to an abrupt halt, and the angels he had left behind were soon at his side.

  “We’ve reached the River of Life,” declared Damiel, before leading Jacob and Gotham down the slope of the hill toward the wide river slithering its way through the green Valley. All around were animals drawn to the gentle flow of water to drink and bathe and lie lazily amid the lush grass. For a moment, it seemed to Jacob as if he had suddenly been transported to a kind of African safari. Yet he still hadn’t been able to fully get used to the strange disconnect of seeing animals he had known to be natural enemies mingling with one another as though they were all part of one herd, one family.

  Jacob’s parched throat led him down the slope of the hill to the River’s bank where he knelt down next to the wolf, who was already lapping at the water. He dunked his cupped hands into the cool water and was about to drink when he stopped at the sight of a shadow coming up beside him. He looked up and saw Gotham hovering above.

  “It’s alright, isn’t it?” asked Jacob, suddenly cautious.

  The angel smiled and nodded toward the wolf. “Why don’t you ask your friend?”

  The wolf stopped drinking and turned her white eyes on Jacob, her muzzle dripping with the river’s water, and barked.

  With a smile, Jacob proceeded to drink, and despite the cool, refreshing nature of the water passing between his lips he immediately felt a warmth from it flow through his body. It began in his throat and quickly moved through his chest, stomach and finally his limbs. It was the same warmth he had come to know when he shook Gotham’s hand. And Johiel’s. And Damiel’s.

  As he continued to quench his thirst he noticed Gotham out of the corner of his eye squat down next to him and sample a palm-full of the River water.

  “I thought angels didn’t have to drink or eat,” Jacob commented.

  “To survive like civilians, no. But it doesn’t mean we don’t. Especially here,” replied Gotham.

  “What about them?” asked Jacob, motioning to the many animals seen wandering about. “They have to eat something. If not each other, then what?”

  “The River supplies all they need to survive,” said Gotham. “The hunt for food doesn’t exist here.”

  As he spoke the angel cast his eyes upon the River’s surface and from within the rippling, crystal-clear waters his image was reflected back with a mirror-like quality.

  “Damiel was right,” said Gotham, bringing a hand to where several deep scratches lined the side of his face. “The Infectors did do a bit of a number on me, didn’t they?”

  Jacob didn’t answer, but he had noticed the deep cuts made to the angel’s skin by the Infector’s knife-like talons. Specifically, he noticed Gotham didn’t seem to bleed from his wounds. At least not with the kind of blood he was familiar with seeing: red. Instead, it looked as though water dripped from the wounds, something Jacob had dis
regarded as water from the ocean trickling down across the skin. Or perhaps drops of sweat. Jacob then watched curiously as Gotham scooped some water from the River with his hand, sending his reflection rippling along the surface, and splashed it across his face. Tilting his head back, the angel closed his eyes to the sun above as the drops of water dribbling across his skin began to suddenly move of their own volition against gravity toward the battle-marred areas. Curiously, Jacob watched with some easing of disbelief, yet disbelief none the same, as the gashes began to seal themselves and recede back into the flesh, and the bruising slowly began to fade from sight.

  “It’s like what I saw you do to that boy’s hand back in Tatvan,” said Jacob. “Is it the water’s doing, or yours?”

  The question seemed to draw a pondering pause from Gotham. Tilting his head forward once more toward the water, he gave himself another splashing before answering. “And God said, ‘Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.’ So it says in Genesis, and so it was."

  He raised the forefinger of his right hand and Jacob, who was listening intently while studying the face that had been returned to its flawless, unblemished perfection, followed it with a curious gaze to the water. As Gotham slowly began stirring the River’s surface with the tip of his finger he continued to speak: “When the waters were divided, the angels were created, and it is the reason why water is a great vessel of strength for us.”

  Slowly and steadily he continued to stir the water in an easy clockwise motion drawing more and more of the River’s surface into a swirling motion that gradually grew faster and faster. Much faster than it was being stirred. It became hypnotic to Jacob to look upon, appearing as though the plug to some unknown giant drain along the riverbed had been pulled and the River was suddenly being sucked dry. Once the surface of the River was in motion, Gotham slowly began raising his hand. As he did, the water swirled its way out into the center of the river and formed what looked to be a sort of water spout. Jacob watched as the swirling tornado of water grew in size as it continued to rise up like some Egyptian cobra coaxed from the confines of a marketplace basket by music coming from a swami’s beckoning flute. Then, before his eyes, Jacob watched as the column of water took the shape of a human figure, and from the figure’s back sprouted a huge pair of watery wings. In a flash, Gotham swept his hand upward and pointed to the sky and the water-sculpted angel flapped its wings and barreled forth in flight toward the clouds until, with another sweep of Gotham’s hand, the liquid angel turned direction and as it dived toward the water its liquid shape dissipated into a massive geyser that retreated back into the refuge of the River with a thunderous splash.