Chapter (An Old Friend)
Angelo’s dream erupted into a beautiful choir of angels and he awoke.
It was still warm but his surroundings had lost their sense of the surreal. He was once again back in the shanty on the side of the mountain. Naked as the day he was born, he sat on the hay with his cloths laid out beside him, each dry and miraculously clean.
His head swiveled over his soundings. An old friend sat atop the glowing alter. No longer old or meek, but still recognizable, Gabriel sat enveloped by his pearl white wings. His presence was luminescent, beaming from a source-less light.
“Gabriel?” Angelo stammered in disbelief.
“Let all ye who say his name never be abandoned,” the angel said by way of greeting, “It is I my young student. I am very proud of you,” Gabriel spoke with only a smile, his lips barely parting. Yet his voice filled Angelo’s head like the voice on the mountain.
“Did you guide me here?” Angelo asked. His voice had taken on a tone of wonder, that of a small child seeing Santa on Christmas morning.
“No, child I’m afraid that feat belongs to one far greater then me,”Gabriel replied, “he who is. He who ever shall be.” As he always had, Gabriel spoke in proverbs, leaving his lessons open to Angelo's interpretation.
“How are you here?” Angelo asked.
“This alter stands in memorial of the Dark Lord's first corruption of a human soul. When he was still one of us. This is where he created the monster from a man. Cain.
“As to how I am here... the current may be channeled and diverted, but never dammed. No force is strong enough to silence the flow of the universe. Its energy can never be destroyed, only altered,” he explained.
“As to this exact here,” he continued, “this place will always act as a beacon between men and the angels of the Father. The dark one cannot touch this place, since he was the one to create it before he lost such privileges to do so,” the angel elaborated, “Now Samael can only destroy.”
A look of understanding crossed Angelo's face. Understanding mixed with sadness.
“You're dead aren't you?” Angelo questioned, rather bluntly, struck by the sudden revelation.
“Yes, I suppose I am. But not gone, only... different,” Gabriel considered, “But death is not the end, even the smallest splash can reverberate timelessly through the current. In this I will be with you, always,” Gabriel lectured. His voice echoed off the walls as though the shanty held the depths of the deepest cave.
“Then the Vicari are destroyed. And we are the last,” Angelo said. His gaze broke away from the angel's, finding its way slowly to the floor.
“No, child. The air of your world still fills the lungs of another. Scared and cast aside. But his is a different story, one in which you will play a role as well. For now however; your story is not yet finished,” Gabriel answered elusively.
The current radiated the angel's pride in his student. Gabriel spoke as if he had known what the outcome was going to be since the beginning.
“Another? Like me? Where is he now?” Angelo clamored, allowing his thoughts to run together and aloud. A new flood of thought washed over him like a tsunami, sweeping away any lingering debris in a single gulp. He was again filled with questions.
“In time my young pupil,” the angel silenced Angelo, holding up his hand.
Gabriel was done answering the questions of the eager child, time was short and he had only finished half of what he had come to do.
“To the North of here you will find the Cave of Amun, The Hell Mouth. In its depths you will find the answers you seek. You must take this path through the mountains despite the many dangers that await you in its bowels,” Gabriel instructed.
“How will I know what to do,” Angelo queried. He knew before he asked that it was a question that would go unanswered, at least directly.
“You will know, when you are at peace. Silence your thoughts, and you will hear us. Go now child, and may you swim within the current, always. We are with you,” Gabriel said with a smile.
As quickly as he had come, his master was gone. No grand exit marked his disappearance, he was simply no longer there, faded away. Again all was still.
Angelo awoke slowly the next morning. He had not slept into the morning since the very beginning of his epic. Stretching slowly and groaning as he did so Angelo tried to recall the events of the night before. Probing the synapses of his groggy mind he tried to determine if it had all been a dream, or only part of it... or if it had all been reel.
The whole thing had seemed so real, but so surreal all at the same time. It was as if he himself had not been there but just watched it through the eyes of someone who was. He remembered how Gabriel had been so proud of him, of all of them. And how young the angel had looked.
Angelo felt a twinge of pain when he remembered why. His master, his teacher, his friend, was dead. Slain in a siege against his home. But Angelo also remembered his Master's guidance, and the echo of his words filled him with a new resolve.
The current would continue to flow, and his Master with it.
Angelo pulled his shirt over his head and tugged his pants up over his shorts. The hay had done the trick, his cloths were dry as a bone, and warm. Not to mention, that the rushes had leeched some of the filth out of them.
Straightening himself out he shoved his hands into his pockets to untwist them. His left hand found more than simply a pocket. Angelo felt something soft and warm and pulled back his hand. Closing his palm he held an illustrious white feather up to his face and smiled.
Alone again and ready to move Angelo stepped out of the shelter. Away from the cover of the small one room refuge he shielded himself from the morning light. He gently slipped the feather back into his pocket, remembering his mentor’s words, “swim within the current, always. We are with you.”
The thought filled him with renewed sense of confidence. The flow of the current would guide him. He need only to give himself over to its flux. He strapped his holy blade back into its position along his back. The comfortable straps slipped onto his shoulders like glove. Renewed and strong Angelo stepped away from the protection of his asylum.
The wind still whipped around him but the snow had stopped and the sun was shining, its early morning rays quickly melting large portions of the snow with the heat it radiated off the onyx stone of the mountain. Angelo pushed himself to the top of a small ledge and squinted out over the vast wilderness before him.
Well rested, only his hunger plagued him. He took a long slow draw from his canteen and repacked it with a few fist full of cold snow. The contents were cool against his body but the snow was quick to melt.
For now he could use the liquid to suppress his hunger. With enough fresh water he could stave it off for at least another day, maybe more. His sights were set on a more important target. One he'd been given divine order to seek out.
The Cave of Amun, The Hell Mouth. The name sounded familiar like he had heard it before, but he couldn't think of where. The melting snow trickled down the mountain like tiny versions of the river they would join far below their slopes.
Angelo trekked over the slippery stone with the balance of a billygoat, being careful not to make a single misstep. He could see forever into the horizon from such heights, and he took a moment to relish the beauty of the sight.
The dense forest from which he had come stretched back toward the sea only ceasing when the sky met the land. He paused briefly and looked out over how far he had come then swiveled his head upwards and realized how far he still had to go.
