The Crossing Point

by August Arrea

  Gotham lowered himself in a squat next to the sword and leveled onto Jacob a look of upmost seriousness.

  “From the moment the spear pierced the side of Christ, a darkness has closely shadowed its existence,” he said in a low tone, as if what he was sharing was something he wished not to be overheard, even by the nearby trees or creatures residing within and amongst them. “Most cunning and wretched, it has grown more incensed with rage with each passing of the spear. It knows the destiny awaiting it—a destiny aimed at piercing the heart of the Darkness in which all damnation dwells—and has tirelessly schemed to turn the spear from its path.”

  A puzzled look came to Jacob. “So why doesn’t it just take possession of the spear itself?”

  From the slight grin which found its way to Gotham’s mouth, Jacob knew he had asked another naive question.

  “You would think it would be that easy, wouldn’t you? But such things rarely are. One cannot just seize the Spear of Destiny, at least not outright. Not the Darkness, nor mortal, or even angel,” answered Gotham. He could see by the look settled in the boy’s face more explaining was necessary. “You see, the spear can only be possessed in one of two ways: the first being that the owner of the spear must willfully relinquish his claim to it to another.”

  “And the second way?” inquired Jacob impatiently.

  “Death,” replied Gotham simply. “At the moment the life of the one who holds the spear ends, naturally or otherwise, the spear falls back freely to the world for any to claim who wish it. Should anyone attempt to acquire it by force, thievery, or any other ill-gotten manner, their life will be snuffed out the instant they take it in their grasp.”

  The feathers of Gotham’s wings rustled in the gentle breeze as he stood back up and took in a deep breath.

  “Luckily for all, the spear has remained relatively protected from the Darkness’ reach. But that hasn’t always been the case,” he continued, sounding somewhat grim in his even grimmer faraway stare. “It came close to succeeding in its mission when the spear nearly fell into the clutches of Napoleon Bonaparte before being miraculously spirited away to safety. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be the case when the Third Reich invaded Austria. By then the spear had fallen out of existence, and out of memory to most of the world whose belief in such things had rapidly fallen to the wind like leaves shed from a wintering tree. That is until a man by the name of Adolph Hitler—a vessel for the Darkness, if ever there was one—uncovered the spear long ago released by death and left to hibernate amongst a horde of ancient relics pillaged from Austria. With the Spear of Destiny in Hitler’s hands, the Darkness staked its victory with a vengeance and an unimaginable evil was unleashed and reared itself upon the face of the earth with unspeakable cruelty.”

  As the angel spoke, Jacob couldn’t help but recall learning of the war during history class and seeing the nightmarish images of Jews perishing in concentration camps. The sight of their lifeless, starved bodies in countless piles like so many stacks of cord wood waiting to be disposed had seemed so unreal to him and so far removed from any kind of reality imaginable. Even though she was not Jewish, fate had arranged his grandmother to come and know intimately those horrors. And even though she rarely unburdened herself to speak about what no living person should ever be made to witness, the crude mark of numbers etched on her aged skin yet looking as eerily fresh as the day it was tattooed onto her alabaster hide was all the testament needed. Jacob thought of his grandmother as he sat looking at the sword on the ground and a chill ran through him as he realized the evil it could turn in the wrong hands.

  “A lot of good the spear did Hitler,” said Jacob. “He ended up both defeated and dead.”

  “True,” agreed Gotham. “But only after he foolishly and unknowingly gave up the spear in the fevered hours before his demise.”

  “That makes no sense. Who would he give it to?”

  “Me,” answered Gotham.

  ~~~

  Jacob shot the angel an incredulous look held firmly in the arch of his brow. “Okay, now you’re losing me. Why in the world would Hitler—knowing he had the one weapon which would allow him to conquer the world—turn around and hand it over to you…an angel?”

  The angel flashed the boy a wily smile.

  “He didn’t hand it over to an angel. He handed it over to an SS officer,” said Gotham. “And even then he didn’t know he was actually handing it over.”

  Confused, Jacob could only stare blankly at Gotham and hope some sort of clarity would soon follow.

  “I came to realize the Darkness had finally seized the spear; for nothing else could have given rise to such horror unfolded by that war,” explained Gotham. “And I knew it was only going get worse—much worse—if the spear remained in its possession. So I set out in search for it. To my luck, Hitler, thinking he was keeping it safe, had the spear sealed up in a bunker deep beneath Nuremberg, yet not realizing that by doing so he had robbed himself of its very power. A weapon allowed to stray too far from its owner’s reach is as dangerous as a defanged lion. But just to ensure that was the case, I went to him disguised as one of his own as the allies drew near. With the sound of bombs laying to waste his crumbling empire growing ever nearer, I presented him papers allowing for the bunker to be emptied and its contents moved to a more secure place. By signing them, he inadvertently handed over possession of the spear to me. I managed to get to it shortly before the allies and in its place substituted a replica now housed in Vienna which, to this day, is believed to be the true Spear of Destiny.”

  “So this is it, and you’ve had it ever since.” Jacob shifted his gaze back to the sword dazzling in the sunlight as it rested upon the ground.

  “What you see isn’t real. Only a mirage,” said Gotham. “But yes, it is now under my watch.”

  For Jacob, the angel’s words brought a reassuring comfort.

  “This is way more interesting than anything my history teacher Mr. Larson taught back in Cain’s Corner,” he said. “Although I still don’t get what the sword has to do with your son.”

  Gotham was at first quiet. It was as if he was suddenly reluctant to finish the story he started out telling. Again, he lowered himself down onto his haunches near the sword he claimed to be an illusion yet looked anything but.

  “I told you of the Darkness’ unrelenting pursuit of the spear. Well, it did not end when it came into my hands,” he began. “It is prophesied that the Light Bearer will play a most important role leading to the Final Fall against the Darkness by delivering to it a mortal wound with the light of Destiny emblazon over his head like a torch. So when David’s fate was revealed by the Blackstone at the Crescent Scar, the Darkness saw its fate coming ever so frighteningly nearer, and it turned its reptilian eyes on my son knowing its best and only hope was to twist him in ways it had so often done to man.”

  “What would make it think it could turn your own son against you?” asked Jacob.

  “You have much still to learn about the ways of the Darkness, Fledgling,” answered Gotham. “David was a strong and uncompromising force of nature, which I claim responsibility with both pride and some degree of humility. He also showed himself to be a trusting soul, far too much for his own good. In that way, he mirrored his mother. In her, it was an endearing trait; in David, it proved a fatal kink in his armor; one the Darkness quickly saw as a burrow into which to worm itself.”

  “But how?” asked Jacob. None of this was making sense to him. “The Infectors, not to mention the mere thought of Furies, were unsettling enough for me to ever want to know what else makes up the Darkness. I definitely couldn’t imagine ever being swayed by it.”

  Gotham held the boy’s gaze as he muttered those last few words while quietly contemplating the dire, prophetic nature of such a simple statement, one to which Jacob, of all people, was innocently oblivious to, even as he spoke it.

  “So you’re now convinced, as happy as I am to hear you say it. But the Darkness, as you imagine it to be, rarely
reveals itself as the monstrous presence it is, but rather that which it is not,” explained Gotham ominously. “Such is how it came to David, in the way that it does what it does so effectively well with its hallmark cunningness and excruciating patience. It was then I made my gravest mistake. Not my first, mind you, but without argue my worst.

  “It happened shortly after David’s destiny was revealed at Crescent Scar when the White Circle formally declared him to be the Light Bearer. I fetched the Spear of Destiny from where I had long ago stashed it for safekeeping until this moment, and removed it from the swaddling of cloth in which it was wrapped. That night with the flicker of fire licking at my skin, I forged a sword of great strength and married it with the power of the spear, and the Spear of Destiny became the Sword of Destiny you see here at my feet.

  “The next day, when David was celebrated before all Eden, I came forward with the sword, only now it was wrapped in a fine linen. Unbeknownst to me that David’s will had already been bent, I revealed to him my gift. And as I handed it to him, I noticed for the first time a strange look in his eyes, one I had never before seen. I can’t explain it, but it filled me with a strange sense of dread I’ve rarely come to know. But this was our Light Bearer and, more importantly, my son. I knew him body and soul, or so I thought. The Dark forces, however, are shrewd in their wicked doings, and even those of us who have seen right to its very heart occasionally fall blind to its clandestine ways. And so I stupidly ignored that which whispered caution in my ear. In doing so, I completed the spear’s destiny by placing it, and all its power, into David’s hands. It was a moment long awaited by many, but no more so than by the Darkness.”

  It was impossible to ignore the burden of regret which visibly weighed heavy on Gotham, and it was clear to Jacob the angel carried a great guilt that he had failed his son. Just how deep that guilt ran, however, he could not even begin to know.

  ~~~

  “You said the sword is now under your watch,” said Jacob. “But you also said one could only come to possess it if it is handed over willingly, or by death.”

  His eyes then shifted to the stone burial vault draped in fragrant flowering vines and an uncomfortable gnawing feeling made itself felt suddenly in the pit of his stomach.

  “The same day I gave David the sword, I discovered that which I feared,” continued Gotham. “I spied him stealing into the forbidden Northern Lands and, of course, I followed him. What business he had venturing there, I could not imagine. The Barrens is a deceiving place where, beneath its frozen beauty, the fires of the Underneath are encased in an icy tundra found at the foot of ten thousand treacherous mountains. To step one foot within its boundaries would be to invite a most unpleasant fate. Yet there I found him, standing alone in the middle of a vast, lonely stretch of snow and ice beneath a blanket of vapor and steam floating in the air like the breath of some great, unseen sleeping dragon spilling out from its cavern within the nearby mountains, and it carried with it the unmistakable, sickening stench of sulphur. He was alone and motionless, staring out further northward. I was about to call to him from where I stood looking down from the precipice of a nearby cliff. Then, to my horror, I saw him.”

  Jacob waited in anticipation for Gotham to say who it was, but a cautious look suddenly came to the angel that made him tighten his lips.

  “Who was it?” Jacob pressed eagerly.

  “Samael.”

  Gotham eyed the boy curiously but could see the name meant nothing to Jacob. Thaniel obviously had not yet begun to school the Fledglings on the history of the Darkness. More importantly, none of the other Guides had let slip or maliciously revealed the one damning revelation regarding Samael that Gotham had demanded be kept from Jacob ears. And so the angel, with firm lip and even more firmly mindful of his words, carefully explained to the boy who Samael was.

  “My heart quickened in my chest at the sudden sight of him,” continued Gotham. “As I told you before, the Darkness doesn’t often reveal itself as it is to those it sets its sights on. Neither did Samael show himself to David as he really is but the mighty angel he once was—a striking figure of youth and beauty and power—before Heaven cast him into the Pit. The only thing he couldn’t disguise, however, were his eyes; they were dark, void of the fire that had once lit them and as frigid as the ice beneath his feet. And his mouth carried a sinister crook which could not be hidden. But the eyes…”

  Gotham paused, as if remembering in vivid clarity the sight of his nemesis and a growing anger lit the burners housed in his own pupils.

  “I knew the second I saw him his purpose. It revealed itself in those cold, dead eyes. They came to life; not the kind of life you would imagine, but a stirring of deep-seated evil. It came not just at the sight of my son, but what he held plainly in sight in his hand: the Sword of Destiny of which I had willingly placed there. And when I saw David take the first step toward Samael, it was nothing short of cataclysmic. I made my presence known with a cry that would rival thunder capable of drawing down the snow and ice clinging to the mountains in a rumbling avalanche. To say Samael was most displeased to see me would put it mildly. He in return could see the biting cold had no effect on the burning hate I turned on him.

  “ ‘Stay far from my son,’ I warned him.

  “ ‘Your son came to me, freely I might add, not me to him,’ Samael replied with a smirking sneer.

  “Why didn’t I just cut him down right then and there, you might be wondering. Believe me, never was I visited by such an overwhelming desire. But I was in the Northern Lands, not our fair Eden, and to do so would have unleashed all of the Underneath itself, and even I am no match against such a force alone. So, instead, I turned to David, for his safety was most crucial to me, and I beckoned him to my side, but he resisted me. There was a look of defiance in his eyes. More unsettling to me, however, was an undeniable disdain he directed my way. It was then clear to me the dark spell he was under, and it drew his feet closer to Samael one step at a time no matter what I said to him. It was only when I finally drew my sword that he stopped, and in that moment a look of surprise came to him.

  “ ‘I cannot let you do it, David,’ I warned him sternly. ‘Can’t you see what is happening here? He has warped your thinking in order to get Destiny. Once he has it, your blood will be the first he draws with it.’ Of course I wasn’t lying to him. I did not need to read Samael’s thoughts to know his plan, and a perfect one it was at that: not just to finally take possession of Destiny, but smite as well the one who had been promised to place the Darkness under foot.

  “ ‘Look where you are. Come back home with me, back to Eden,’ I pleaded holding out my hand for him take. ‘You are a good boy. More importantly, you are my son, my pride and my immense joy, of whom I love very much.’

  “And for a brief passing moment, David seemed to hear me and take my words for what they were. But Samael in seeing this began to move his evil lips and from them came whispers my ears could not make out, and the dark invisible hand that had taken hold of my son tightened its grip. Then, in a voice which has come to haunt me these long years, David cursed me and rebuked me both as angel and the father I was.” Gotham’s look became long and weary, as though the voice he spoke of was even then continuing its taunting refrain. “It was then—right then at that very moment—I understood the brevity of my own sin which had come to mark me and cast me in free fall from Heaven’s bosom, and I was ashamed. For what father wants to ever feel the barb of a son’s disdain? Trust me when I tell you there is no greater wound.”

  For a moment, it looked to Jacob as though Gotham wouldn’t—couldn’t, even—go on with his story. It quickly became apparent in the visible way the angel pushed to steel himself that he refused to find himself cowering in the shadow of this stalking pain.

  “Even as David leveled his hateful words at me, I could see the anguish in his face. He was wrestling against this thing that had taken him, trying to fight it, but it was moving him closer to Samael’s side. ‘Don�
�t you make me do it,’ I cried out angrily. My words were not to David, but to my own father who I knew was watching. The hilt of my sword was wet with the sweat from the palm of my hand, and as my grip tightened around it I thought of Abraham and how God tested him by asking for the sacrifice of his son Isaac. Was this such a test now being laid before me, I wondered? Was I being asked to make the ultimate sacrifice? And I recalled at that moment the anguish the sword I clutched imprinted on the faces of so many mothers whose Nephilim sons I left still and bloodied in their arms when my place was still in Heaven, and as their pain pierced my heart I again sent my cry to Heaven above, only this time in the most pleading of ways, ‘Don’t make me do it.’ ”

  Jacob listened in complete stillness, too taken with the angel’s words to even breathe. All around him became quiet, as if the animals themselves whose sounds had echoed lively through the Garden had stopped to listen to the story Gotham was telling.

  After a long pause, Gotham continued. “I knew the moment I stepped forward and swung my sword that my plea had been ignored, and the mercy shown Abraham would not be extended to me.” Surprisingly, as Gotham spoke, there was no welling of tears or trembling of his lip; just a blank, far-off stare that held the quiet torment of reliving such a memory every moment of every day.

  “Sacrifice? There exists no word to even begin to describe what it means for a father to extinguish the life of his own son, even for the good of the One greater than I. But there it was, for however you wish to deem it, lying limp and emptied of breath in my arms. Never had blood flowed so bright as it did, seeping its way across the cold whiteness of the ice.”