The Broken Window

by Christa J. Kinde

  “Which way?” whispered Milo.

  Their captain hesitated, for his directive had only been to get them this far. With an almost apologetic smile, Tamaes stepped into the lead. “Follow me,” he announced quietly, pointing deeper down the main artery.

  Suddenly, the earth began to shake, and the trio moved so they were back to back, weapons raised. The faint patter of stones echoed in the darkness, temporarily covering any sound of approaching feet, so caution was called for. “More tremors?” Milo muttered. “Abner’s not going to be happy.”

  “True,” Jedrick agreed, tensing at the sudden crunch and scuff of footfalls from outside. A double line of cherubim strode into the cave, their wings and raiment bathing the vast chamber with a warm glow that was heaven-sent.

  The incoming Flight’s captain stepped forward and solemnly declared, “Make the way clear, and it shall remain clear.”

  “How many are coming?” Jedrick inquired, for warriors continued to sweep through the entrance, bearing swords, spears, and staffs.

  With a flick of turquoise wings, the tall archer replied, “As many as it takes to light the way back.”

  With a grateful heart, Jedrick turned to Tamaes and urged, “Lead on!”

  Before they were properly underway, however, Milo skidded to a stop and bowed his head. “It seems that this is as far as I will go.”

  Tamaes turned in surprise and searched his friend’s uncharacteristically solemn gaze, then drew a deep breath before nodding. “I will bring Ephron to you. Stand ready.”

  Six cherubim flanked the lone Messenger, their weapons bristling in every direction as they closed ranks around him. Chuckling softly, Milo promised, “I’ll be right here.”

  Ever downward, ever deeper—Tamaes led the charge, lancing far under the earth on a path that was clear to him, for he was Sent. Every few paces, one of the cherubim following would step to the side, standing guard over some offshoot of the tunnel or simply lending the light of his presence to a dark corner. The way back would be clear, but the way forward grew increasingly difficult.

  “Are you certain all those who escaped were returned to their prison?” Tamaes murmured to the captain at his back.

  “Quite sure,” Jedrick replied as he struggled to use his sword in the close confines of the tunnels. “Save one.”

  “And these?”

  “Future denizens of the Deep,” the Protector decreed, the light of battle blazing in his eyes. “Many will be driven before the light and cast into chains before night falls.”

  “So be it,” acknowledged Tamaes, although the battle had yet to be won. Darkness lay before him, sinister and secretive, but he tucked flame-hued wings against his body and pressed forward, defying it to swallow him. Fear had no place in his heart, only concern for the young Observer who’d languished in these depths for too long.

  Every step he took brought him closer to the one he felt responsible for losing, yet farther from the one he was responsible to protect. As strange as it felt to leave Prissie in Taweel’s watch-care, the voice of God compelled Tamaes. He obeyed, and gladly. Heavy boots beat against the stone floor, crunching on loose pebbles as he ducked and turned, twisting his body through the winding passages that often grew narrow for someone of his stature. All the while, a single refrain sang through his mind—we are coming, we are coming, we are coming.

  The instant Lavi returned, Ephron knew that the tiny angel had been helped, for he could feel the yahavim’s renewed vibrancy. “Did you find your way back to Abner?” With a pang of longing, he admitted, “I miss him … and the rest.”

  Enthusiastic fluttering and a generous portion of manna accompanied a hummed melody that spoke to his heart of heaven and hope, and the encouragement was enough to break the prisoner’s heart. Without really meaning to, Ephron began to weep. Curling tightly around his faithful little friend, he poured out his sorrow with silently shaking shoulders and shuddering breaths. Lavi patted his cheeks and sang on, a gentle hum that reminded the captive that he wasn’t alone … and never had been.

  Soon. The knowledge caught him off guard, and the storm of his emotions stilled. Dabbing at wet cheeks, he cocked his head, listening closely as the promise was repeated.

  “Soon,” he echoed wonderingly.

  Ephron struggled onto his knees and reached up the sides of the pit. The cool stone was rough under his sensitive fingertips, but he’d long since given up on finding a handhold. All the unforgiving wall did was steady him as he pushed shakily to his feet. Straining his ears, he listened intently, and Lavi lapsed into an expectant hush. For quite some time, the heavy silence pressed upon them, but then, in the distance, he caught the growl of voices. Friend or foe? He couldn’t tell.

  Noises multiplied, and Ephron flinched at the sudden clang of metal striking metal. “Did you hear that?” he whispered to Lavi. The yahavim crawled under the collar of the Observer’s tattered raiment as the sound of footsteps entered the chamber above the pit. A rock was kicked aside. A blade rasped against its sheath. A pebble tumbled from overhead, plinking off his shoulder before rattling to the floor.

  Although it hadn’t been thrown with the stinging force Murque liked to use, Ephron’s strength left him, and he slid weakly to his knees. Turning his head, he listened to the panting breaths of whoever was looking down at him, and he trembled.

  “I found you,” came a voice that was deep and dear. “Ephron.”

  “H-here,” he called back, though his voice was little more than a whisper. “I am here.”

  “I am coming down,” Tamaes warned. “Stay against the wall.”

  Ephron huddled as the air stirred musically through wings whose light he could no longer see. When his teammate’s feet connected solidly with the ground, a part of Ephron wanted to hide, but big hands were lifting him. Tamaes quietly announced, “Everyone is waiting. Shall we go?”

  “Please,” he begged.

  Without further ado, the Guardian gathered Ephron close, arranged his wings as best he could in the tight space, and leapt upwards.

  The weakened angel gratefully rested his head against Tamaes’s shoulder as he strode away from the prison. It was a wonder to Ephron that the way out seemed so easy, for his teammate ran steadily, never hesitating along the convoluted route. Both of Tamaes’s hands cradled him close, meaning the big warrior didn’t even require his sword.

  He was startled by a soft greeting; another soon followed. Ephron whispered, “Who is here?”

  “Many,” replied Tamaes.

  Others called his name, welcoming him back, and the narrow tunnel echoed with an uneven patter as their footfalls multiplied. “So many?” he asked as the unseen warriors fell in step behind.

  There was a smile in his teammate’s voice as he declared, “The hosts of heaven shine like stars underground. I wish you could see.”

  Touching the makeshift bandages covering his eyes, Ephron murmured, “Tell me?”

  Tamaes kept his voice low as he shared the names, colors, and Flight placements of the cherubim who washed their route in light, protecting them from behind, leading them home.

  Time passed slowly, the way grew steep in places, and eventually, the tunnel widened. “Are we close?” Ephron asked.

  “We are,” Tamaes acknowledged, slowing to a stop in order to listen. The roar of battle reached back to them, warning them that they would have to fight for their freedom. Ephron curled more tightly against his rescuer, whose grasp tightened reassuringly.

  “Let us pass,” urged the Protector just behind Tamaes’s shoulder.

  Tucking Ephron into the folds of his wings, the Guardian pressed himself against the wall, allowing the flood of cherubim to precede them into the main cavern. Tamaes followed more slowly and spoke in soothing tones. “Milo is waiting for us,” he shared.

  “Oh,” Ephron breathed wistfully. “I am glad.”

  “And Jedrick,” the Guardian added, adjusting his grip so he could draw his sword. “Naturally.”

  “Yes
, of course.”

  Tamaes stopped walking, and Ephron shrank against him, unnerved by the noise. The Guardian hummed soothingly, then confidently said, “Your safe return is assured. Fear not.”

  “I will trust.”

  “Good,” the big warrior replied before plunging into the melee.

  Milo gratefully clasped Jedrick’s arm when the Protector returned to his side. Without preamble, the Flight captain said, “I am moving you to the entrance.”

  “Now?” The Messenger allowed himself to be herded along the wall toward the mouth of the cave, but he peered back over his shoulder. “Aren’t they coming?”

  “They are,” Jedrick confirmed. “Tamaes will bring Ephron to you.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Ephron is terribly faded,” the Protector solemnly replied. “You will need to carry him.”

  “Not you?” Milo countered in honest surprise.

  “You are the swiftest in our Flight. I will prevent any from following you.”

  “We,” interjected one of the half dozen cherubim who’d been protecting the Messenger.

  “We,” Jedrick amended, nodded his acknowledgment to the angels who moved with them. To Milo, he said, “You will have a head start. Use it.”

  The Messenger’s wings shifted restlessly, then rose defensively as a volley of stones was flung their way. “I can’t think of another delivery I’d rather make today,” he assured. “I’ll be ready.”

  After a brief skirmish, they gained the entrance, putting them back within reach of the blizzard. The short winter day was ending, so the sting of driven snow hurled into them out of the darkness. Jedrick crossed blades with a screeching demon whose tattered wings dragged uselessly upon the ground, while another of the cherubim squared off with a squat demon with a glittering dagger. “Make ready!” the Captain shouted.

  Milo wheeled in time to see Tamaes launch out of the inner recesses of the cavern, his orange wings tucked close around his precious cargo. Immediately, the Messenger let slide the restraints that became second nature to Grafts. Holding nothing back, his face shone like lightning, filling every nook and cranny of the passage with a radiance borne of heaven. Those Fallen who were nearest cried out and stumbled backward, but Tamaes’s urgent gaze zeroed in on Milo. Seizing the opportunity his teammate’s short burst created, the Protector flung his wings wide and charged right over the top of the mingled ranks. A few weapons stabbed blindly upward, but other angels intervened, knocking aside their blows.

  Stumbling to his knees before the Messenger, Tamaes sucked in his breath, then gently shook his passenger. “Ephron, we are here. You need to go with Milo now.”

  “Milo?”

  “Right here,” answered the Messenger, catching hold of the Observer’s hand. “Upsy-daisy!” The transfer was clumsy, but Ephron soon had his arms wrapped tightly around Milo’s neck. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he stretched wide his blue wings. “It’s been a while since I had a passenger,” he confessed. “Bear with me?”

  Jedrick’s voice cut him off. “Fly to Abner!”

  Taking a deep breath, Milo prepared to hurl himself into the storm, but to his amazement, the winds stilled and the sky opened up, giving him a clear view of the sky overhead.

  “What happened?” Ephron asked, turning his head this way and that.

  “Abner happened,” Milo replied with a grin. “Thanks be to God for His mercy …” The Messenger trailed off with a stunned, “Have mercy!”

  The Observer’s hold tightened so that he was practically throttling his friend. “What do you see?” he asked tensely.

  “Abner,” Milo replied distractedly.

  “Go!” growled Jedrick, giving the startled Messenger’s shoulder a shove.

  Milo obediently took flight, and one after another, the six cherubim Sent to watch over him followed suit. Jedrick also soared skyward, then turned to check for pursuers, wings widespread as he surveyed the scene just below. He gestured broadly for Prissie’s Guardian to follow, but his expression quickly shifted into one of dismay. “Tamaes!” Jedrick urgently called. “Behind you! Fly!”

  Creeping shadows coalesced, catching at the auburn-haired angel’s ankles and winding through his wings. Before the Guardian could jerk free, spines encircled him from behind, the decrepit wingtips locking around him in a creaking cage. “Hello, Tamaes,” a smooth voice greeted.

  “Adin,” Tamaes stiffly acknowledged.

  “Ever the fool,” his former comrade said smugly. “How does it feel to be betrayed by the One you serve?”

  Tamaes’s features hardened into grim lines. “Is that what you think?”

  “I know it!”

  “Then you are the fool,” the Guardian calmly retorted, despite the crushing grip that prevented him from raising his sword.

  “The God of heaven Sent you into darkness,” Adin mocked, his eyes flashing briefly to the seven cherubim hovering just overhead. With a sneer, he dragged Tamaes backward, promising, “In darkness you shall remain.”

  16

  THE

  ROUGH

  NIGHT

  Usually, Prissie loved a long day of puzzles and board games, but she was having the worst time fitting in with her family’s diversions. She could feel the long looks Koji was sending her way, but so far, she’d been dodging them. Momma noticed the difference. “Are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

  “I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it felt like one. Managing a brighter expression, she said, “I think I’ll follow Tad’s example and take a little nap.”

  Her mother relaxed. “I might do the same. Go on, then.”

  Prissie slipped from the kitchen, escaping up the back stairs, but she didn’t go all the way to her room. Instead, she chose a spot halfway up and sat on a step, hugging herself in the dim passage. The storm seemed to have smothered all the sunlight, but it wasn’t as dark as her dream had been. Shivering at the memory, she bowed her head and wished for a way to know what was happening to her friends.

  A soft sound made her glance up, and she saw Koji peeking his head around the corner below, his dark eyes uncertain as he gazed up at her. With a sigh, she waved him over, and he tiptoed lightly up to join her on the stairs. “Why are you grieving?” he asked.

  “The place where Ephron is,” she ventured. “It’s dark there.”

  He cocked his head quizzically, but replied, “Yes.”

  “I saw,” she explained, then shook her head. “I mean … I couldn’t see.”

  Koji’s eyes widened somewhat, but then his gaze softened. “When did you meet?”

  “This morning. Just before… .”

  Nudging closer, he asked, “Were you afraid?”

  “A little.” Leaning her arm against his, she mumbled, “Or … a lot. I still am.”

  “Why?” the young angel inquired. “We have been Sent.”

  Knotting her fingers together, she asked, “Do you know what’s happening?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you usually keep up with each other … somehow?” she pressed. “I thought you could talk to each other in your heads … or something?”

  “Neither Harken nor Milo have conferred with me this day,” Koji reported gravely. “Would you like me to see if they have good tidings?”

  “Would you?” she pleaded. “Something’s strange about today. I don’t like this storm!”

  “Indeed,” he agreed. “I will see if anyone is listening.”

  “Thank you,” Prissie whispered.

  Koji hesitated, then admitted, “It is easier for me in dreams. Would you be my Guardian for a time?”

  There was a sparkle in his eyes, and Prissie suspected he was making a joke. “If I have to,” she replied, fond in her exasperation. To her surprise, he nestled closer, resting his head against her shoulder and letting his eyes drift shut. Suddenly self-conscious, she whispered, “Here?”

  He hummed softly and reached for her hand. “Yes, please.”

  Prissie quickl
y wrapped her arm around him, holding him up as he slipped into dreams. It was almost like a hug, and then it became a hug because she needed something to hold onto. Her arm tightened around Koji’s shoulders, and she laid her cheek atop his head and hoped his news would be good. Her conscience twinged, and with chagrin, she closed her eyes and prayed it would be good as well.

  Slowly, the worst of her fears ebbed away, for Prissie found that clinging to faith was easier when you embraced a citizen of heaven. Somehow, everything would turn out okay. It just had to.

  Right before dinner, Neil thudded down the back stairs, nearly bowling over Prissie and Koji. The sixteen-year-old yelped, “Whoa, you two! What’s with the road block?”

  Prissie blinked blearily at her brother. Koji hadn’t stirred in so long that she’d almost dozed off herself. Ignoring the question, she took in Neil’s plaid pajama pants and oversized sweatshirt and guessed he’d been relaxing in his room. He was far from relaxed, though. Eyes wide and hands shaking, he was almost beside himself. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Uhh … kinda, but keep it down,” he replied with a grimace. “I need to talk to Dad.”

  With that, he angled past them and hurried on through the kitchen door. Koji roused, and Prissie let her arms fall to her sides as he straightened, gazing intently after Neil. “Things are happening,” the young Observer said, his expression pensive.

  “What kinds of things?”

  Shaking his head, Koji announced, “Harken said to stay with you.”

  “Weren’t you doing that anyhow?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. “Come on, let’s see what Neil’s all worked up about.”

  Prissie glanced at the clock on her way through the kitchen, where Grandma Nell was already starting to pull together leftovers for a late supper. Neil was dragging their father into the tiny adjoining office space, and without a second thought, she followed.

  Her older brother glared at her, but he didn’t tell her to get lost. Instead, he held a warning finger to his lips, and in some distant part of her mind, Prissie appreciated the show of trust on Neil’s part. She would be in on this secret.