The Crossing Point

by August Arrea

  “What power flows through the veins of angels—and by extension all Nephilim—comes from the power which churns within this mighty River,” said Gotham. Even as he spoke, Gotham could see Jacob’s attention rested elsewhere. “My tricks, as they were, don’t seem to impress you as easily as they once did.”

  At first it didn’t seem as though Jacob, who kept glancing now and then over his shoulder, had heard Gotham.

  “No…it was really cool,” he replied finally, though in a tone completely lacking in the usual enthusiasm Gotham had grown familiar to hearing.

  “So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” asked Gotham, who was nothing if not direct.

  “It’s nothing really…just…,” Again Jacob snuck a peek back in the direction of where Damiel was seen resting comfortably in the shade of a tree a short distance away. “Is he okay? With me, I mean?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m just not sure he cares much for me being here.”

  “What makes you say that?” asked Gotham, though his voice and shifting glance toward the reclining angel noted no surprise.

  “I don’t know…just a feeling I get,” said Jacob. “The way he looks at me—it’s like he’s suspicious of me for something.”

  Gotham sat quiet for a moment. “I wouldn’t put much concern in it,” he said. “Angels can be a curious bunch. They are very protective, especially of this place here which the Darkness managed to breach under their watch. It’s likely you might be greeted with the same impersonal manner by the others. Pay it no mind; they’ll come around.”

  There came a sudden sloshing of water, and Jacob looked to find a large elephant wading in the River nearby from where they sat. It lifted its trunk from the water, and when it did Jacob heard Gotham utter a cautious yet recognizable “Uh-oh” while attempting to back away from the water’s edge. But it was too late, both in moving to a safe spot or to sound a warning, and the trunk took aim at the shore where the two sat and let loose a spray of water dousing both Gotham and Jacob in the torrent.

  “Guess angels aren’t the only ones who have found ways to tap into the power of water,” said Gotham, succumbing to a hearty laugh, followed by Jacob. The elephant also seemed to join in, curling back its trunk and blowing loud its trumpet call. This time, however, when Gotham and Jacob saw the elephant’s trunk slink its way back to the water to refill itself and caught the gleam of mischievous intent in its eyes, they quickly got to their feet and hurried themselves out of reach of a repeat attack. Beneath the shade of a nearby tree lush with pink and white blossoms, they found Damiel stretched out on his back upon the soft grass. The wolf was laying near his side watching the bees busily flying overhead from bloom to bloom.

  “If you’re done with your splashing about, perhaps we can push on again while we’ve still got sunlight in our favor,” suggested Damiel as he regrettably abandoned his comfy spot and rose to his feet.

  “Yes, I can see you have been quite put out by our tomfoolery,” Gotham retorted.

  “Tomfoolery?” echoed Jacob, shooting the angel a questionable look. “Did you just say tomfoolery.”

  “Yes…tomfoolery. Silliness. What of it?” inquired Gotham with a rare and weird naivety that came from not promptly recognizing the layer of dust and cobwebs time had left on his word choice which Jacob found so amusing.

  “Nothing…nothing at all. It’s a perfectly fine word…for someone sporting a handlebar mustache and cruising the main cobblestone strip in a horse-drawn carriage,” cracked Jacob while trying to suppress a giggle or two fighting to be heard.

  “And what word, may I ask, would be more to your liking: shenanigans, high jinx, monkey business?”

  “Well, at least you managed to move up to the ‘Leave It to Beaver’ era,” answered Jacob.

  “Forgive me,” snarked Gotham when he saw even Damiel’s face crack with levity and realized his error. “When one spends as many centuries living amongst civilians such as yourself as I have, the tongue sometimes has trouble keeping the language of the day in order.”

  “I think maybe your tongue slid back to keep your hair company,” Jacob chided with a chortle.

  A look of offense took hold of Gotham. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it,” said Jacob. “But it has made this whole experience feel as if I got sucked into an episode of ‘Highlander.’ ”

  Gotham discreetly and inconspicuously as possible ran his hand across the top of his head and over his gathered long locks tethered in a ponytail. The blank look on his face, however, revealed a complete and utter loss to the pop culture references made by the smirking teen who continued to parrot the angel’s word several times in mocking fashion under his breath while in the crosshairs of Gotham’s perplexed glare.

  “Tomfoolery. It was tomfoolery,” Gotham debated with himself under his breath as the trio prepared to resume their way northward.

  “Time being as it is, perhaps we should ride the rest of the way,” suggested Damiel.

  “I wouldn’t be opposed to such a proposition,” Gotham replied with conscientious—if not awkward—phrasing of his carefully chosen string of words while glowering at the boy.

  “How much further do we have to go?” asked Jacob.

  “I’m afraid we’re still a bit of ways out,” said Damiel.

  “Then I, too, wouldn’t be opposed to such a proposition. In fact, I’m betting it’ll be a real hootenanny,” Jacob seconded with a giggle while shooting Gotham a mischievous wink.

  “Just one thing…what are you suggesting we ride?” asked the boy, scouting the immediate area and the animals seen wandering about. “The elephant?”

  “Not quite. There’s only one way to ride through Eden,” said Damiel.

  “And that is?”

  “The Snowdrifts, of course.”

  Of course, Jacob had no idea what the Snowdrifts Damiel spoke of were. For all he knew in this strange unconventional world he now found himself in, the angel could have been referring to actual snowdrifts, and it wouldn’t have surprised him in the least if a cold gust of wind was beckoned to carry them the rest of their journey. Well, it may have surprised him a little. Instead of prodding Damiel with the logical question of what the Snowdrifts he spoke of were, however, Jacob waited quietly for the answer he knew would soon come when the angel closed his eyes and began whispering a quiet chant. It immediately reminded Jacob of earlier in the day when he and Gotham surfaced in the Dilmun Sea after passing through the Gate. Right before the stampede of dolphins. And, ironically, what sounded to be a stampede again caught his ears. It began faint, as if from a faraway distance, but it quickly grew louder, fast approaching unseen where they stood from behind a sloping hill they had crossed on their way to the River’s edge. And it was to the top of the hill Jacob turned his gaze.

  Damiel continued his hushed chant. It seemed to take flight upon the breeze which carried it over the grasslands in an echo of whispers, and the thundering sound of hoofs pounding in a drumming cadence grew louder. The neigh of a horse rang out, and suddenly the first of a majestic equine herd came leaping over the hilltop. There were six of them total, and they were each a brilliant, almost blinding white. They sped past, galloping in full gait down the backside slope of the hillside toward the River. Instead of slowing or changing direction as they drew closer to the water, they continued forth full tilt until their hooves reached the very last inch of the bank. Then with an impressive synchronized leap their powerful legs took them effortlessly—and Jacob would have guessed quite impossibly—across the wide berth of water. Once on the other side of the River, they made a wide circle back around for a repeat jump, and as Jacob stood watching the creatures, he instantly knew the reason they were called the Snowdrifts. The fine mane of hair streaming from the horses head and neck along with their tails took to the air as they ran in such a way it gave them an ethereal ghostly quality. And with their bright winter-like coats, they appear
ed more like large wisps of snow being blown across the Arctic tundra. From where Jacob stood watching, it was almost like spotting a freak weather anomaly sweeping across the rich green landscape.

  “Beautiful!” he whispered spellbound.

  ~~~

  All six horses remained together even though only three were needed to carry Gotham, Damiel and Jacob. Once mounted, they continued on their way at an easy pace and, with the wolf following alongside, they passed a pride of lions lying lazy in the warm grass amid a scattered herd of grazing gazelles and zebras. They allowed the River to be their guide, plodding north along its winding banks as it led the way back into more waiting forests and across still more grassy meadows and fields of flowers. The day deepened, and as the sun grew long shadows on its way westward, the River revealed rows of scale-like ripples, like the hide belonging to a reptilian, slinking their way along its surface, making the channel appear more like some living, breathing creature slithering its way alongside the travelers. Above them, the once vivid blue sky became a flaming sea of red highlighted with thin veils of fiery gold clouds and the River reflected it with brilliant clarity as though it were a giant mirror laid beneath it. And as Jacob rode along the water’s edge, it gave the almost dream-like illusion he was walking amid the clouds with nothing but sky above him as well as below.

  When finally they approached a pass formed by two towering mountains, the River they followed alongside from the south was joined by three other very similar rivers. They each snaked their way in different directions—one to the west, one to the east, and the third flowing somewhat parallel in a southerly direction. Further north, between where the two mountains served as a gateway, flowed the headwaters of an even more massive river in one spectacular channel of water before it splintered off in the four separate fingers which would touch every corner of Eden. No one had to tell Jacob they were close to their destination, and he felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension as Damiel led the way through the pass.

  They quickly came upon a fertile emerald green valley residing tranquilly between a wall of mountains both to the east and west whose craggy cliffs carried clinging clusters of Forest trees attempting to push forward to higher ground. The River that had flowed so peacefully through Eden’s grasslands and woods reared with life the further they made their way upstream as it moved over mammoth rocks in stunning displays of waterfalls as the channel of water swept down over steep drops on its rushed journey from higher ground. When they finally came to a stop, Gotham dismounted his horse and walked to the edge of a steep embankment where he stood silent. Damiel and Jacob joined him in a view overlooking a wide-open circular oasis of lush greenery fed by the path carved through its middle by the River. It unfolded itself against a spectacular backdrop of precipitous mountains along the far northern border where magnificent falls spilled from its cliffs while more steep-climbing forests could be seen fanning out to the range of mountains shouldering the east and west.

  “Behold, the Garden!” said Gotham in a hushed voice, as if cautious not to disturb the serenity surrounding them, and yet at the same time carrying a certain unhappiness.

  Jacob knew at first glance, even before Gotham had said the words, they had reached their destination.

  ~~~

  The Snowdrifts were given a last rub of their soft hides and sent on their way. When they had disappeared back into the Forest, Damiel led the way down a winding path to the green grass below. The air was cool and damp from the thin spray of mist carried from the nearby waterfalls. As they walked, Jacob couldn’t help gawk at the magnificence of the falls and the cliffs from which they spilled which were almost too much to behold. Even from a distance, their towering presence left one feeling, at once, insignificant and small. And as he stared upward to the main fall, formed by three spectacular but lesser falls pouring over the highest cliffs of the mountain, he noticed two golden orbs glowing from behind the rushing veil of water. It was coming from what looked to be a formation in the rock, but the rush of water falling in front of it made it difficult to make out what it was. And at first glance the light reminded him of eyes belonging to angels, which he had first seen peering out from behind Gotham’s face.

  “What is that light?” he asked pointing to the waterfall.

  “The Chamber,” answered Damiel. “It’s where the White Circle meets.”

  “The White Circle?”

  “A council of angels tasked in overseeing Eden. Now, we must hurry. The Formal Greeting is to begin at twilight and the light in the sky tells me we are already late.”

  As they quickened their pace, Gotham suddenly veered in a separate direction.

  “Where are you going?” asked Jacob.

  “Go on ahead and take him to the Hall of Light,” Gotham instructed Damiel, ignoring Jacob’s inquiry.

  “But Gothamel, he’s your charge. You must be the one to present him to Anahel,” said Damiel.

  “Please, just take him. I will join you there shortly.”

  Damiel opened his mouth to speak, but knew there was no point as he watched Gotham walk off before disappearing behind a sloping hill.

  “Where is he going?” asked Jacob again.

  “My guess would be to the Tree,” Damiel replied.

  “Tree? What for?”

  Damiel was silent for a moment.

  “To see his son,” he answered quietly.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Havenhid

  S

  on?

  The answer caught Jacob by surprised. For a moment he stood flummoxed staring in the direction Gotham had dropped from sight until he heard Damiel calling for him to follow.

  “How many sons has he had?” asked Jacob when he was once more at Damiel’s side, his feet struggling to keep up with the angel’s fast-paced stride.

  “Just the one,” answered Damiel curtly.

  “But I thought he’d died.”

  “You’d be right.”

  “Okay, I get that this is Eden and I’m still coming to grips with seeing things outside the norm, but how do you go see someone who is dead?” asked Jacob, before quickly adding, “And please don’t let the answer be what I’m thinking it might.”

  “And what would that be? Spirits? Ghosts?” Damiel replied without even the smallest hint of humor in his voice. “When I said Gothamel’s gone to see his son, I meant visit him. The boy lies where the earth is shaded by the Tree of Life.”

  “You mean to tell me there’s an actual Tree of Life? The one that grows the forbidden fruit?”

  “We are in Eden. Why would the existence of the Tree of Life be of surprise to you?”

  Such a simple answer should have made sense to Jacob, but it didn’t. At least, not easily. Not when he still found himself somewhat shell-shocked by the reality of his surroundings. However, with the topic breached and his curiosity newly stoked, Jacob saw a chance to quell other questions he held in the back of his mind about Gotham’s mysterious child.

  “So, um, how long ago did he, you know…die?”

  “Who, David? Must be just passed fifty years since it happened,” answered Damiel with a sudden glumness. “Gothamel has not shared this with you? Of course not, if now you’re asking me. And if such is the case it is not for my lips to reveal to you the details. Even if I wished—which I do not—there is not enough time left in the waning minutes we have left. Now come!”

  Damiel led Jacob to a small grove of trees growing in a tight cluster on both sides of the River’s banks. Like some of the trees he had come across in the long trek through the numerous forests, they were of a kind never before seen by Jacob in the outside world. They stood strong and tall, but again not nearly as tall as some of the Forest giants. And yet their massive trunks formed by limbs of wood twisted and braided together belied an age far greater than anything born inside the thicket of the forests. The branches of the trees lush with leaves came together from both sides of the riverbank to form a wide, bridge-like canopy over the River which bubb
led peacefully as it flowed out into Eden’s lands. And deep within the branches Jacob spied numerous lights that glowed softly and warmly, like lights shining from the windows of a cottage draped in the foggy mist hugging an English countryside. The dense foliage and the dimming sunlight, however, made it impossible to see clearly what the lights were, or what created them. At one of the trees bearing a large hollow within its twisted trunk, they came to a halt.

  “After you,” Damiel, gesturing to the dark opening with a gentlemanly sweep of his hand, said invitingly.

  “I thought Gotham said we were to go to a hall,” said Jacob.

  “That’s right,” answered Damiel with a nod. “Right through here.” And again he motioned to the hollow.

  Jacob gave the gaping hole a suspicious study. What did Damiel think he was, a squirrel? Or better yet, a Keebler elf (though he didn’t voice such thoughts aloud)? Even from where he was standing he could see it would be a squeeze getting himself through such an opening. And then what? Certainly it couldn’t lead to anywhere except an even tighter fit. The look on Damiel’s face was insistent, and becoming more impatient. Bracing his hands against the frame of the hollow, Jacob first stuck his head inside which, as he expected, revealed nothing but a deep darkness. Then calling for the white wolf who was watching nearby to follow, Jacob took a deep breath and turned his body to allow for the passage of his shoulders. After taking another step, he found himself completely inside the tree’s trunk, and to his surprise it was not the tight fit he had expected to greet him.