by Pierce, SJ
A green sign for a town named Helen whizzed by the window, and she realized her strings were leading her to it. The small produce stands became businesses and wineries, restaurants and gem mines. The road looped around a cabin rental company and spit them into the heart of the town, whose architecture resembled that of an alpine village, something she hadn’t seen since her days in Germany. Standing humbly beside the road were restaurants, retail, and liquor stores festooned with cream stucco and dark wooden beams and nestled between cobblestone alley ways where gas lantern street lights invited her to explore.
She pressed her foot on the brake as a speckled Clydesdale clomped toward them on the main road with an empty buggy hitched to his sturdy body. His hooves pounded against the concrete, a lonely sound that echoed between the buildings. As he passed the car, her eyes locked to his, and he released an anxious bray, visibly spooked – as he should have been. She watched in her side mirror as he strode by and stomped on the gas again. The clock read ten forty one. Under different circumstances, she would have loved to walk around and soak in the replicated history, but of course time was of the essence. They only had a little over an hour to get there.
She couldn’t stay, but her mind flashed back through her time in Germany all those years ago. It was the early seventeen hundreds, and her cover was that of a peasant girl named Alyxandria who worked as a maid for an inn keeper in Berlin. He allowed her to stay at his Asruhen Inn rent-free so long as she cleaned and cooked for the guests. Her Marked was a local bank owner who made a generous living for himself, his business only a few blocks away.
Her employer, Dietrich Eberstark, would occasionally let her have a day or two off during the week, and she would ride to the country in a buggy with her friend Kathrin – a farmer’s daughter that she met one day while at the market. They visited her father’s vineyard in Bernkastel-Kues, which Helen’s picturesque beauty reminded her of. She still remembered the warm caress of the summer air as they rode through the rolling green hills, Katherine’s brassy hair shimmering in the sunlight that shown though the window of the buggy. They chatted for hours as they strolled through the endless rows of tangled vines and would sometimes stop to eat the sweet, warm grapes when their conversations about the local town gossip became animated. Kathrin was one of her favorite acquaintances, probably because she was her very first.
Her lifetime there abruptly ended when her Marked passed away on a winter’s eve in January of 1739. In the small kitchen of the Inn, she stooped over a pot of chowder when her aging muscles grew weak, unable to keep her upright. She hobbled to an old wooden chair in the corner of the room and slumped into it as the light faded from her eyes, and her soul slowly lifted from her body.
She always wondered how her death was explained to those close to her. Was it ruled a heart attack? An aneurism? Or did the coroner file it away as an ‘unknown’ cause of death, leaving those behind with no closure at all? She regretted not having a spare moment to say bye to her friend at least, but such are the woes that death imparts.
During her second lifetime in England, over a century later, her cover was that of a house maid who worked for a wealthy Duchess. They had an amiable relationship, although nothing like that of Kathrin or Cindra. One afternoon as she mended her mistress’s petticoat before a banquet, weakness set into her body again, and she knew what was about to happen. She called for the Duchess to say her goodbyes, but was unable to get a glimpse of her before her spirit departed, leaving her body an empty vessel on the bed.
It pained her to imagine the suffering they must have endured, the emotions that tormented their hearts; desperation, anguish, misery. Exactly how she felt now as Isaac’s soul was moments away from leaving his body, his light slowly fading, as well.
The town of Helen was fairly small, and they passed through within no time. A few peanut stands and farmers markets later, the open road was the only thing to keep them company. Larger mountains lay ahead, and she wished her new eyes were able to witness their pretty shade of hazy blue, but of course the nighttime was no friend to their majesty. The only way she could tell they existed was because of the cabins that burrowed into their sides, their lights giving their exact location away. Their twinkling resembled bright yellow stars, some as high as what she imagined was the tallest peak, right beneath where the actual ones would greet them on a clearer night.
As they intruded further into the black foothills, she no longer paid attention to the signs along the highway. The road now twisted and turned into tight corkscrews, demanding her full attention. Nothing could have prepared her for how trying this journey would be. Her attention was split into four different directions with all of them to be equally focused. Isaac’s health, the shield, the road, the strings. They all demanded her concentration, and yet, depleted her energy as slowly as Isaac’s life left his fragile body.
To her surprise, she felt him moving again. The constant swerving must have jostled him awake. As his mind lifted from the sweet, numbing fog of sleep, his condition jarred her senses. On top of her depleted energy, his gash throbbed more aggressively against her back, and his spirit drooped like a weak, wilted flower. She realized now that her role was more than just to carry him from ‘point A’ to ‘point B’; she was also to bear both of their burdened souls.
His heart flickered as it skipped a gentle beat, and his eyes fixed on hers again through the mirror. “So none of that was a dream,” he said with a slow breath, attempting to be humorous through the pain.
Alyx flashed a reassuring smile. “I’m afraid not.”
Underneath her attempt at comfort, his dilapidated voice killed her spirit, indicating no hope for a plateau, a chance for his condition to even out. It continued in a sharp decline. When the beasts attacked him, they were out for blood. They wouldn’t have stopped until they had claimed his last breath.
“Here,” she said and passed the wallet back to him with her outstretched hand, figuring he would want to have the pictures close to him. When he plucked it from her hand, she noticed the bulky, gold ring circling his finger. The eagle, the tree… she had seen this piece of jewelry somewhere before. “If you feel like talking, do you mind if I ask where you got that ring?”
He placed the wallet on the seat in front of his chest, unable to find the strength to shove it inside his pocket, and drew in a breath so he could reply. “My dad,” he panted. “Family heirloom.”
She didn’t have to think too hard before the answer emerged from annals of her memory. Her mind had already been to the past only moments before. “I’ve seen that before on someone, on one of my past Marked.”
“Past?”
“Yes, you haven’t been the only one. This is my third time here on Earth.”
His eyes widened. “Wow…” he whispered.
He didn’t ask for her to continue, but she did anyhow so he wouldn’t be tempted into wasting his precious breath. “I lived in England, in the late eighteen hundreds, and staked out his home when him, and what I assumed was his wife, descended down their stairs to get into a carriage. I noticed the ring on his left hand that he used to grip his cane, and it looked exactly like that one.”
Her shield rose with his chest as he inhaled slowly, storing a lung full of air so he could speak. “He must have been my relative.”
As her car’s engine worked harder to go up the steep inclines, so did her the wheels in her mind. A relative? Interesting. Had she not been assigned to random people, but to a bloodline? All of them prophets, maybe? As intriguing as this was, she didn’t want to bother him with any more questions. Any bit of energy he had left needed to be reserved for his body to hang on.
They continued up the vertical, winding road for several minutes, and she noticed a sign for a mountain named Brasstown Bald.
Brasstown Bald. Where had she heard of that before?
It could have been from one of her library books or nature shows, but she recalled that it claimed the highest point in Georgia with a summit elevation of r
oughly four thousand feet. On a clear day, the tallest buildings in Atlanta lifted above the horizon. She had always wanted to visit, but not under these circumstances.
The higher they climbed into the thin air, his shallow breathing sounded more like gasping. “Hang on for me!” she shouted over the struggling engine. “We’re almost there, I just know it.”
“Why didn’t- we fly?” he asked in short wheezes as the car jostled him around in the back seat.
She sensed his discomfort growing worse because of it, each turn aggravating his wound, but there was nothing she could do. They couldn’t fly. Besides the voices of the other Protectors warning her not to, it didn’t seem like something that felt natural to her. She wouldn’t have the slightest clue how to launch into the air. Another symptom of her broken instincts, perhaps. She assumed what Isaac had, that she possibly could fly -- she was an angel after all -- but tonight wasn’t the night to test that theory out. “I was warned not to,” she replied. “I’m sorry about the rough driving.”
He didn’t reply to her explanation and lay motionless in the quiet, his arms lying limply beside him, loosely bouncing around when the car bumped or swerved. His skin had lightened a few shades since the first time he awoke, and a distressing shadow of deep blue underscored his sunken eyes. If she didn’t get there soon, this might be it for him.
The strings pulled her onto the road that spiraled up Brasstown Bald, and its surface was thankfully a lot smoother than the one they had just turned off of. She drove as quickly and as carefully as it allowed to spare them both any further discomfort.
“Will we- be gettin’- out of the car?” he asked.
Alyx hadn’t thought of that. If they ran out of pavement, they would have to. Her Civic was ill-equipped for off-roading. But she understood why he would be worried, about what might be waiting for them when they got there. Her hand clinched the steering wheel tighter. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them hurt you again.”
“At my flat,” he said, persistent to push through a conversation, “you said- you’ve seen what they are- capable of. Who else did they- hurt?”
“A friend of mine, but it’s not important,” she replied. The last thing Isaac needed was a gruesome visual of Benjamin’s death, which would only serve as an example of what could be his fate and what had possibly been his son’s.
“One more- thing… when did you first see- the man in the black suit?”
By his determination to continue speaking, she could tell there would eventually be a point to all of his questions, but nothing came to mind. “It was a Friday, on the elevator at work. Why?”
Her inquiry for him to state what should have probably been the obvious was not obliged. As adamant as he was to know the information, he now had no response. Injured or not, his silence begged for her to look in the mirror. He focused on the air in front of him as he chewed his bottom lip in thought. “Mine was on- Saturday,” he said flatly.
She still didn’t understand what he hinted at. Is he delirious?
“Did you- ever think, that your snooping- led them to us?”
His accusatory tone stabbed her through the gut. He felt as though she was responsible for the beasts knowing where he lived. His body might have been fading, but his mind was still as sharp as a tack.
She wanted to argue and deny that it was a possibility, but she knew he was on to something. The enemy had been following her the last two times she snooped. That was why she went to check on him that afternoon after she had found Benjamin. He was one hundred percent right.
She opened her mouth to force something out, an apology or justification of any kind, but the words dissolved on her tongue. Neither one could fix what had happened to him and his son. If she had obeyed orders, the beasts wouldn’t have followed her there. The rules her Elders had given them were for a reason. They could have had multiple significances, but regardless, the writing on the wall made the obvious hard to ignore – his condition, Micah’s absence, and their uncertain future rested on her incapable back.
She glanced into the mirror again to see his pale face streaked red with fury as tears rolled onto the blood soaked seats. Despite the repeated urge, she thought it best that she not say anything at this point. Any attempt to console him would most definitely make it worse.
As she followed a sharp turn, she cut her eyes back to the road so the car wouldn’t ride off the side of the mountain, and then moved back to his reflection when his pain drifted away into another slumber. Or was it something else? His unconsciousness felt deeper and infinite this time. The extra stress from his anger must have propelled his body into a coma. But his heart still beat, at least, as he continued to softly gasp for air, his body working overtime.
She glanced at the clock again. Eleven twenty two. SHIT!
Even if he stayed alive, they would need to make it to the gateway or they would be stuck, with no way to escape or get him help.
With each tick of the clock, animosity toward it slipped in, as though it was her fierce competitor in this challenging marathon, ridiculing her efforts to race against it. Each minute scoffed at her as it advanced on the green, backlit screen. To silence the mockery, she lifted her left hand off the wheel. In one swift blow, she nailed the radio with her fist, leaving a hole in the dashboard.
She placed her hand back on the wheel and glared into the darkness with satisfaction. This would not beat her. She needed to make this right again for Isaac, who now held her responsible. And she couldn’t deny that she wasn’t.
When they reached the top of the mountain, her strings pulled them toward a large, empty parking lot to the left. An abandoned motorcycle lay on its side near the edge of the woods, their only companion in the weakly lit area. She blazed through and followed them all the way to the back until her tires stopped at the edge of the pavement. Her draw continued to pull her into the forest, so unfortunately, their expedition by car ended here. The Civic would never make it through the thick forestry.
With the shield concentrated on his body, she slung her door open and went around to the backseat. As she walked, her feet thudded tiredly against the concrete. Holding her shield for so long must have demanded more from her new body than she realized.
As her trembling arms slid him from the car, she knew her will-power would be instrumental in getting them through and imagined a long white ribbon laid through the woods somewhere, the gateway their virtual finish line. I can do this.
She slung him over her shoulder and hooked her arm over his legs. Concentrating on each step, she trudged toward the trees. She still had enough strength to carry both of their weight, but it was only just enough. Not much remained.
She broke through the tree line of the dark woods, and thankfully, her headlights continued to illuminate their path. The last thing she wanted was to bump Isaac into the rough bark of the pine trunks or scrape his injured back against the waxy rhododendron leaves. But to her dismay, it didn’t last very long. The farther they walked, the more the flourishing plant life obstructed the beams of light.
As the last one vanished, her pace slowed to navigate through the last imagery of what laid before them; a large oak tree to the right, a gathering of wiry pine trees to the left with low lying bushes surrounding their base, and a smooth boulder snuggled inside a nest of leaves and pine straw a few paces ahead. She came to a halt and closed her eyes to listen for any movement, a sway of a tree or a buzzing of an insect, but the forest’s life was just as silent as the deserted towns. Her improved hearing would be of no help to her here. The only thing she could hear was her heart as it beat strong and fast, her lungs whooshing with air as they filled. Quite a severe contrast to Isaac’s shallow, wheezing gasps, which reminded her to continue on.
She opened her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. The trees’ dark shadows revealed themselves. Was her mind playing tricks? Was it creating the scenery she visualized before she closed her eyes? She walked forward, and the images closed in. No way.
When sh
e stopped by the large oak, it looked as though it were an arm’s reach away. She held on to Isaac with her left hand and brushed the coarse bark with her fingertips as she walked by. It stood in the exact spot she imagined. Had her eyes adjusted to the darkness? The entire ride there she had kept the light on in the cabin of the car so she could monitor Isaac’s condition, and when she looked into the night her headlights led the way. Perhaps her new eyes never received the chance to do any real work. Maybe this was where they finally had the opportunity to do what intended – to guide her along the path, bringing them to safety.
She gripped tightly onto Isaac, and her feet moved faster to steer through the trees. The strings pulled her in a straight line, so weaving around the forest life seemed a lot easier now that she could decipher their dark shapes and shadows. Her creators knew what they were doing when they designed their aptitudes.
A half a mile across the rough terrain later, a noise in the distance made her skin crawl. It was something she halfway anticipated but hoped they wouldn’t encounter again.
They were in the forest with them.
The beasts’ faint screeches howled with recognition from what she estimated were close to two miles away.
Alyx knew that this meant two things. One, that she was close to the gateway. Two, that the beasts wouldn’t let them pass without a fight, an even bigger one than back in the city. They had more than likely followed another Protector there and waited patiently for the rest of their arrivals to prevent them from going through.
Their continuous cries grew louder, indicating that they were quickly on their way, and as she made her way in their direction, she assessed the strength of the shield around Isaac -- it wrapped around him securely in a thick blanket of armor. He would be fine. She would wait until the very last second to extend it around her own body, however, to reserve what traces of energy she had left.