by Matthew Buza
He set out continuing west and away from town. He followed the last fading light from the sunset. There was no knowing how far the word had spread while he slept that day. They must have been out looking for him, but had they sent word ahead? He didn't know. His only thoughts were of escape from this horrible mistake. He would have to track carefully through the night and hope to catch a fortunate ride west. Maybe to the coast or south into Spain. His mind flashed images of the new town he would settle in. This one larger than the last and filled with shops and full of busy people. The roads were lined with naked locust trees, their branches empty and contorted against the gray sky. Fields marched out and clashed with large black forests. The rows of city shops and homes could provide plenty of back alleys for hiding. A simple corner tucked in a narrow alley wrapped in stone that Etienne could call home.
Etienne’s daydreaming broke up the monotony of the cold empty forests. He had crossed a number of small fields and entered into a dense dark wood filled with oaks and pines. A light breeze slowly blew through the empty forest. Above, through the naked branches, he could see patches of stars peeking through the clouds. The light breeze gently dropped snow that had collected on the branches the previous night. He stepped carefully through the undergrowth as flakes of snow fell all around him.
Etienne paused a moment to catch his breath. The silence was overwhelming. He nervously turned, scanning the dark forest, his eyes moving between dark shadows and chipped-bark trunks. He felt a tingle lift the hairs on his neck. He was being watched by someone or something. It had stalked him and now it was all around. He waited for the glowing eyes to open and the leap as the claws reached out for his flesh. The snowflakes continued to drift mindlessly through the air. The still night was juxtaposed against his pounding chest. He didn't know if he should fall down and hide under the decaying branches or break into a sprint and escape. It felt like a blanket had been dropped over the world, smothering every living thing and pinning Etienne underneath.
His eyes scanned for movement. His breath was shallow and his lips released slow wisps of frozen air.
He heard a branch crack in the distance. It was behind him. Was it someone from the town? They would have shouted at him. He slowly kneeled to the ground and leaned his back against a recess in a pine tree. He sat in a shallow bed of needles. The evergreen scent mixed with old sap was overwhelming. His hands quickly brushed snow over his legs to blend into the white surroundings. His eyes narrowed and he hid his face underneath his shirt to hide his breath.
There was another crack, this time in front of him. It came from behind a large oak. He focused, but still no movement. He thought to himself it might be a deer, or a loose horse.
Etienne was too focused on the black space between the oaks and failed to see the snowflakes suspended around him. Each one carefully frozen in place, as if held up by hidden wires suspended from the tree branches. The world had turned into a still landscape painting.
Etienne finally saw the stopped flakes. He touched one and it melted in his hand. His eyes shifted about in wonder. His breath let loose, “What is this?”
“Just time slowed.” The voice was deep and seemed to emanate from the forest itself, reverberating through the trees. It felt as if the ground itself had spoken to him.
His chest quivered in fear. There was someone here with him. He stayed quiet, holding his breath and scanning the trees for movement. From behind a large oak, he saw the man. He was dressed in a large black wool cloak that dragged through the snow. He stepped over the fallen logs with ease.
Etienne realized that the man was tall, taller than any man he had ever seen. The figure stepped around the final tree and stared down at him from across the small clearing. A hood draped over his face, hiding it from view.
“Etienne.” He paused. “You made a terrible mistake.”
Etienne's head shook. “Who are you?”
“It doesn't matter who I am, it matters what you did.”
Etienne pressed himself against the tree trunk, the fear vibrating through his voice. “What…what are you talking about?”
The man took a giant step and kneeled down. He was level with Etienne's face. There was a smell of herbs and honey in the air. It smelled like spring. The cloak fluttered gently in the breeze as the man's obscured face locked onto Etienne. “Your actions…your actions have disrupted things. Things that are larger than you.”
“Are you from town?”
He heard a light chuckle. “No, no I am not.”
“Who are you?”
“It doesn't matter. All that matters is Claude is dead.”
The name ripped through Etienne's body. He felt the pain of seeing Claude fall to this death. The remorse welled up and his eyes began to glaze over. “What are you? How do you know that?”
“That is a better question.”
Etienne shook, and felt a sickness build in his belly. “Are you… Death? Here to take me away?”
“For your sins? No. Death will take everyone eventually. I’m here to give you life.”
“Life?” His voice faded with a sharp exhale.
“Etienne, you broke God's will. A plan set forth generations ago. HIS plan…” - the man pointed up to the night's sky - “…has been upset and I have been sent here to right that wrong. Claude was part of a plan for France.”
“He was a baker.”
“Yes, yes he was, but that baker would come to rule France.”
“How do you know that? That's impossible.”
“It was God's plan and now it falls to the boy from Corsica. One we don’t wholly trust.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The details of the plan don't concern you. But, I'm here to fix what you broke.”
Etienne's voice shuttered. “It…it wasn't my fault. He… It was an accident.”
“You are right.”
“What?”
“Of course, you had no malice. We know that. But you had purpose and initiated action and actions have consequences. Consequences that a willful man must own.”
The man stood again and carefully pulled on the strap that bound his cloak. He lifted his arms, exposing his bare chest as the cloak fell away behind him. His skin was ivory white and seemed to glow in the dark forest. His arms lifted as two enormous wings unfurled from around his chest, knocking the frozen snowflakes off their wires and sending them flying through the air. Feathers covered the wings and glimmered and shook as the wing tips reached their apex.
Etienne's eyes widened as the angel's face stared down at him.
He let out a gasp. “Oh, God.”
“No, not a God. There is only one God and I am not him.”
Etienne fell to his knees, his body collapsing to the ground with his arms outstretched. The years of going to church when he was young flooded back like a wave crashing on the beach. “Please…please, I am sorry. I sinned, please spare me. I ask God to please spare me. Please forgive me.”
Etienne’s tears flowed down his cheeks and froze on the end of his chin.
“God has already spared you. That is why I am here. You will work for me.”
“What type of work?”
“A very old profession. One that God knows well. You need to get up, and you need to hold onto me.”
Etienne slowly stood and carefully made his way towards the angel.
“Put your arms around my waist and your heels on my feet. You need to hold tight.”
Etienne could feel the heat pouring off the angel's skin. The warmth felt like a small fire. He was both terrified and excited. His hands grazed the thin feathers. They felt like a newborn baby’s skin, virgin and untouched. He thought he could smell lavender in the air. It was a sweet smell like a gentle perfume.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet a man.”
“Who?”
“Just a man.” The angel smiled down at Etienne.
“Who are you?”
“They call me Jalon.”
The wings pulsed and pressed down on the air, compressing it and forming a dense wall that pressed back up against the feathers. The two men lifted off the ground. The wind built and sent snow and wood flying against the tall oak trees. Two more flaps of the wings and the forest was clear and the men were soaring through the evening night.
They continued towards the west, gliding over the trees.
Back in the forest, the snowflakes began to fall once again, accumulating on the ground and eliminating all evidence of Etienne and the angel.
The Barn
Etienne's feet touched softly on the ground compressing the snow beneath his shoes. His cheek lifted off Jalon's chest as he stepped away from the towering figure. The cold air quickly enveloped his body and plunged him back into the sharp and desolate world.
Etienne turned and scanned the clearing. Snow blanketed the ground and the surrounding tree line. Behind him was an old barn tucked between two large oak trees that stood like sentry units protecting the structure against any intrusion.
Etienne felt a dull thud in his chest as Jalon's long steps reverberated throughout his body. For the first moment in nearly an hour, Etienne dared ask a question. “Where is this?”
Without breaking stride, “We have work to do.”
“What type of work?”
“Don't fall behind, this place is not safe.”
Etienne's eyes widened as he clumsily caught up with Jalon, jogging to keep pace. “What will we be doing?”
“We are going to meet your new boss, Samson.”
“My new what?”
Jalon reached the doors of the barn and ignored Etienne. His large hands reached into the narrow crack between the doors. With a single pull, they swung wide sending up large plumes of snow.
Etienne could only see the torch that stood in the center of the open barn. Jalon stormed through the snow cloud obscuring Etienne's view. He continued into the barn, disappearing into the shadows.
Etienne inched his way through the opening, his feet shuffling over the dirt floor. The barn was larger than he thought. The burning torch illuminated the distant walls and beams that rose up to hold the slatted roof. In the center of the room was a large pile of cut wood, carefully stacked in a circular round forming a column that rose up over Etienne's head.
In the corner, behind an old column, he heard muffled voices talking. Jalon's voice stood out but the second was angry. Etienne listened in. “… No… No.” There was a pause. “… Are you sure…”
Etienne stepped forward. “Jalon? Hello?”
Jalon stepped out from behind the column. His smooth cheeks flickered in the dim firelight. “Etienne come here.”
Next to Jalon was a tall man. His face was cut deep with lines that showed his age. Etienne guessed he was in his late sixties. The man had gray and black hair that was pulled back into a tail. He wore a long gray coat that stretched down below his knees and ended just above a tan pair of leather boots. Etienne knew immediately this man had money.
“Etienne, I want you to meet Samson.”
Samson stepped forward and stared down into Etienne's eyes. He felt a burning sensation across his brow that caused him to lower his head and look away. Samson stretched out his hand. “Welcome. Jalon has informed me of the situation.”
“I'm still not sure what that situation is.”
“What happened on the bridge.”
Jalon spoke. “Etienne you will be Samson's apprentice if you choose to do so.”
“An apprenticeship? For what?”
“Etienne, you have a choice right now to work with Samson or come with me.”
“I don't understand. What choice?”
“Etienne you sinned. A great sin worse than you know, but you have been given a choice. You can work with Samson and learn from his trade, and when complete be given a ticket to heaven.”
“Heaven?”
Jalon continued. “Or you come with me and I will deposit you in hell.”
Etienne's eyes widened as he took a step back. His arms instinctively lifted to protect himself from the offer. “Jalon, please, I don't understand any of this.”
“Etienne, Samson works as a necromancer, an agent of God and a warrior on earth. He too was an apprentice a long time ago and he rose up to control this region of France. He is a dispenser of miracles, performing acts that push the faith into individuals that God Himself has chosen. These people have a role to play in this world. A role in God's plan, but they lack faith. Samson and other necromancers perform those actions that instill faith and ultimately push society towards the second coming. That glorious moment when Jesus himself will walk the Earth and build his kingdom once again.”
“A necromancer?”
Samson spoke up. “Yes. We work for Jalon. We perform rituals and fight any demon or spirits that have found a way into our world.”
Jalon took a step towards Etienne. “There are two types of necromancers, ones that became an apprentice free of deep sin. The others are like you, given a choice to repay their debt.”
“Repay who?”
“Jesus.”
“Jesus, himself? And you an angel?”
“Yes, a seraph. We are The Guardians of The Christ. We also manage requests and balance the greater plan. We work with the necromancers to bring people to faith through the necromancer order.”
“So…so if I agree to apprentice I will go to heaven?”
“No.”
“But you said…”
“Necromancers that come with a debt must repay that debt and if they die before that debt is recovered, well then you are cast out and taken into the fire and lost forever. Samson came to the order free of sin. If he dies he goes directly to heaven. If you die before your debt is paid you are lost.”
“But I am gambling with my life.”
“If you work and pay the debt you move on. But you control that fate, not I.” Jalon finished and stood up.
Samson interjected. “You need to take the deal, Etienne. There’s nothing else you can do. It’s your only path.”
“How do I become the apprentice?”
“You have to freely take the role. God gave you free will and you must exercise it by stating your desire. But once stated, it’s binding.”
Etienne swallowed hard and slowly scanned the barn. His hand lifted to his forehead and he squinted down towards the ground. “I don't have a choice then.”
“Wrong, you have a choice.”
“That’s not what he said. Hell or an uncertain future is not a choice.”
“You need to decide.”
Etienne without pause responded, “I would be an idiot not to take it. I choose to become an apprentice.”
“It is done,” Jalon said.
There was a quiet in the barn as Etienne looked around expecting more. “Is that it?”
“Yes. You will now work with Samson and tonight will be your first experience.”
Samson stepped up. “Jalon, he can't be part of this tonight. It will be too much.”
“Tonight, he will join. I don't expect much from him, but if he can’t handle it tonight he might as well go into the fire now.” Jalon turned towards Etienne. "Demons and spirits are two different things. Spirits, Samson can take care of. Tonight we will be pulling out a demon. It will be dangerous and that is why I am here. Tonight, you will observe from the corner of the barn. You will do nothing, you will touch nothing, you will say nothing. Understood?”
His voice was shallow. “Yes.”
“You work for Samson and by default you work for me. And it is ‘Yes Jalon’.”
Etienne's back straightened. “Yes, Jalon.”
Jalon's head turned as if a deer hearing a noise in the forest. “They’re coming. Samson, prepare the chains.”
Jalon walked towards the open barn doors. The snow was now slowly drifting onto the bare dirt floor creating a small white arc.
Samson walked up next to Etienne and placed his large hand on the young man's shoulder. �
��Jalon, he needs his name. He was not given a core one at birth.”
Jalon stopped, still staring out at the falling snow. “Chose one for him.”
Samson smiled down at Etienne who was now looking up at his face. “Fine then. I choose Lazarus.”
There was a flash as Jalon turned and covered the open distance between the men. It was a blur in Etienne's eyes as Jalon appeared into view. His eyes burned red as small flames danced across his pupils. Jalon's face was contorted, the cheekbones flexed under the strain as his lips pulled back revealing a row of sharp teeth.
Samson stared up into the burning eyes, unflinching and firm.
Jalon's voice growled into Samson's face as Etienne felt the hot breath streaming down. “Do you mock HIM?”
“Do I ever?”
“Samson you walk an edge you cannot balance on.”
“My dearest Jalon, Lazarus is what I choose for him. There is no ill will.”
Jalon turned to Etienne. “Lazarus?” He drew out the word allowing the air to hiss through his teeth. He turned back to Samson. “Lazarus. Is that the name?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, then it is so.”
Samson looked down at Etienne. “You will now go by Lazarus. Do you understand? Your previous name must be forgotten. You cannot speak of it, it doesn’t exist anymore.”
The young man's head nodded, still in shock at the display of anger and speed. His voice cracked as he looked up to Samson. “Then I will be Lazarus.”
There was a quick flash and Jalon disappeared from the barn leaving the two men standing alone. The fire from the torch still burned bright, illuminating the stacked cordwood behind them.
Licking the Toes
Cold air puffed through the cloth fabric tied around the young girl’s face. She let go a series of muffled screams as she saw the angel in the center of the barn. She was thin from the long winter and her clothes hung loose over her shoulders. Her light brown hair was plastered against her scalp as beads of sweat poured off her head.