by S. J. West
“Thank you for doing this, Angela,” Daniel tells her. “Has Allen returned yet?”
“No, not yet,” she tells us. “But I expect him back at any moment. It doesn’t take him long to hunt down a rabbit or two.”
Angela’s gaze turns to Malcolm. “You’re the Malcolm from the Origin, right?”
“Finally,” Malcolm says, “someone who has the good sense to tell us apart!”
Angela giggles. “You’re far handsomer than the one here.”
“Oh, you I like,” Malcolm tells her with a wink and a smile. “You’re as intelligent in this reality as you are in ours.”
Angela curtseys, accepting the compliment.
“Please, come inside,” she invites us. “It might be less jarring for my father if you’re already in place when he returns.”
We all follow Angela into the small cottage. Just before I enter, I grab Malcolm by the arm.
“You need to turn invisible,” I remind him.
Malcolm nods and I assume he’s activated his outfit’s ability to hide himself from view. I, of course, can still see him, since my own outfit allows me to see my friends, even when they’re invisible.
“And remember to keep quiet,” I remind him sternly.
“Oh, Jess. Ye of so little faith,” Malcolm says off-handedly. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. I promise.”
“And no snickering at Allen’s expense.”
“I feel slightly offended that you would suggest such a thing,” Malcolm says, his face becoming serious. “I wouldn’t mock someone whose mind is so shattered. You should know me better than that.”
I instantly feel a pang of guilt for suggesting it. I do know Malcolm. He does tease people on occasion, but only those who deserve it or who can handle it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I do know better.”
Malcolm nods, accepting my apology.
When we walk into the cottage, I immediately notice how peaceful it is in its simplicity.
In the center of the room stands a long wooden table with benches on either side. A small bed, only big enough for one person, is situated against the wall where the bay window is located. Two rocking chairs that look constructed from tree limbs, carefully chosen because of their shape, sit in front of a cozy fireplace, which is lit to chase away the dampness in the air. A large black kettle sits within the flames, and the house is filled with the pleasant aroma of garlic, onions, and possibly potatoes, though I can’t be sure without looking inside the pot.
Angela has made a calm, tranquil dwelling for her and her father to reside in, where the outside world is but a shadow at their doorstep. Considering how cruel those who are trying to destroy it can be, I can’t blame them for wanting to hide here in their little cottage, pretending that the evil consuming this world doesn’t exist. I envy them in a small way. I’ve often imagined living a normal life with Mason where demons don’t hide around every corner. Once Mason asks God for his humanity, he will lose his angelic powers and have to live his life as a regular man. I yearn for that time and hope, after this mission is over, that he will be given the opportunity to live out one of his most heartfelt dreams.
“My dad should be back soon,” Angela informs us. “Please, have a seat while we wait for him.” Angela looks around the room and asks, “Where did Malcolm go?”
“I’m still here,” Malcolm whispers.
Angela jumps slightly from hearing his disembodied voice.
“He’s invisible,” I explain. “The clothing we wear gives us the power to do that.”
“Neat trick,” Angela says, in a way that makes me think she wishes she could become invisible sometimes.
We all sit around the table in the room to await Allen’s arrival from his hunt.
“He seemed in good spirits when I was here earlier,” Daniel says to Angela. “I hope he returns in one.”
“I’m sure he will,” Angela replies, a forlorn smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “He’s having a good day today. It makes him feel needed when I ask him to get me things from the forest.”
“And how are you?” I ask her, finding it hard not to care for someone I love in our reality. “Are you happy living this way?”
Angela looks at me, as though she’s not used to being asked such a question. I presume most of the people who they happen to come into contact with normally center their attention on her father.
“I’m…fine,” she says, sounding uncertain in her answer. “Things could be worse. Daniel, do you remember that time after he read The Swiss Family Robinson, and we had to live in that god-awful treehouse?”
“Yes,” Daniel chuckles. “The treehouse was quite ingenious, actually. You probably would have enjoyed it more if you weren’t so afraid of heights.”
“True,” Angela agrees with a genuine smile. “He’s always been good at constructing things with his hands. He missed his calling to be a carpenter. I think the treehouse was his favorite creation so far.”
“Has he always been this way?” I ask, wondering when Allen’s break from reality actually started.
“No,” Angela says with a shake of her head. “He’s always been a bit eccentric, but it was only after the Tear appeared that he chose to live out the lives of his favorite literary characters. I think having his fellow Watchers take control of the world sent him over the edge of sanity. He couldn’t reconcile their cruelty with his own nature. Since then, he’s chosen to live in places and times when morality was expected.”
We hear the rattle of the doorknob just before Allen steps into the room.
I have to say that I’m pleasantly surprised by his appearance. For some reason, I didn’t expect him to look so normal. His hair is all one length, barely brushing the tops of his shoulders. His angular face is as handsome as ever, made even more so by a carefully trimmed mustache and goatee. He’s wearing a black leather jerkin with a hood in the back over a dark green shirt and matching pants. If I didn’t know any better, I might very well have mistaken him for the legendary hero of Sherwood Forest.
“I return victorious, daughter!” Allen announces to Angela, stepping over the threshold with two rather plump rabbits raised high in one hand, as if trophies.
Allen’s gaze slowly shifts from Angela to the rest of us sitting around the table. When his eyes meet mine, the arm he holds the rabbits in slowly drops back down to his side.
“Do my eyes deceive me this day?” he asks in a desperate whisper as he continues to stare at me like I might be a ghost. “Can it be that you have truly returned to us?”
I’m not completely sure what to say in response. Daniel warned us that we would end up becoming part of Allen’s story and have to play out certain roles. The way Allen is looking at me, the desperate yearning in his eyes, can only mean one thing. I’m certain I know what my role in his fantasy world is supposed to be.
“Marian,” he whispers, dropping the rabbits on the floor where he stands, before rushing to my side and kneeling down on one knee before me. “Oh, Marian, is it truly you?”
My heart feels torn. I don’t want to shatter Allen’s dream of having his true love return to him, but neither do I want to perpetuate a fantasy that might do more harm than good in the end.
I look to Mason for guidance as to how to deal with the situation.
Mason looks as uncertain as I feel about Allen’s reaction to me, but finally he nods his head, encouraging me to play along for now. Perhaps denying Allen this small opportunity for pure joy would be crueler than allowing him to think I’m his Maid Marian.
“It’s good to see you again,” I say to Allen, unsure how I should address him. I decide to err on the side of caution and simply avoid calling him by any name. “It’s been far too long.”
Allen slowly reaches out a shaky hand to take one of mine that I have resting on my lap. His hand continues to tremble slightly as he gently brings my hand up to his lips. The soft touch of his mouth against the back of my hand mingles with the wet warmth of his happy tear
s.
“Oh, Marian,” he says, resting one cheek against the back of my hand, as though I’m the most precious thing in the world.
After a few seconds, he lifts his head and rises to his feet, but keeps hold of my hand with his.
“Well, daughter,” Allen says to Angela, sniffling slightly and wiping away his tears with his free hand, “I dare say I did not expect such an extraordinary surprise this evening.” Allen looks at Daniel. “Will Scarlet, I am happy you have joined us for this momentous occasion.” Allen looks at Brand and smiles. “Alan-a-Dale! Did you happen to bring your lyre with you this evening? I know of no better way to celebrate the homecoming of my beloved than with a song from you.”
“No, I forgot it,” Brand says regrettably, “but I would happily sing something for the two of you later, if you wish.”
“Upon my word, we shall have singing and dancing this evening!” Allen declares happily. “I can think of no better time or reason to rejoice!”
Allen looks at Mason. “Little John! It’s been ages since I saw you last, my friend. Are you the reason my Marian is back where she belongs? Are you the one who rescued her?”
“I did travel with her,” Mason concedes.
Allen looks at me. “Where have you been all this time, my love? I thought you might be lost to me forever.”
Not having anything else better to tell Allen, I decide I can at least be a little truthful in my answer.
“I was trapped on another world,” I say.
Allen’s eyes grow dark with anger. “It was the work of that witch, Maudlin, wasn’t it? She has plagued these lands for far too long. I should have ended her life when I had the chance long ago.”
“Let’s not talk about such things this evening,” I say, not wanting Allen to run off seeking vengeance for my disappearance. “Let’s eat and be merry in the company of all our friends.”
“Yes,” Allen says, the cloud of anger fading, “you’re absolutely right, my love. Tonight we shall bask in the warmth of each other and rediscover one another all over again.”
Allen leans down and kisses me lightly on the lips. Thankfully, it’s just a peck. I’m not sure I could have gone through with a full kiss without pulling away, especially not while my husband was watching.
“My love for you has never wavered, Marian,” Allen whispers. The warmth of his love for me set clearly in his eyes as he says, “Never.”
I know his declaration isn’t just words. It is a whisper from his heart. He is laying his soul out for me to take. I feel my eyes begin to well with tears because I know I will have to break this gentle man’s heart at the end of our visit. It isn’t something I want to do. It is simply inevitable.
“Well,” Angela says, standing from her seat at the table, quickly wiping tears from her cheeks, “those rabbits won’t skin themselves. Will, would you help me with them?”
Daniel, in his role as Will Scarlet, stands from his place at the table and follows Angela outside.
Allen sits in Angela’s vacant seat beside me, still holding my hand with his, appearing to be afraid I might disappear if he lets go.
“Tell me, Marian,” he says, looking me up and down. “Is this the way they dress in this other world you were trapped in? It’s very… nice, but not exactly the way I remember seeing you last.”
For the next half an hour or so, I tell Allen a little bit about my world, leaving out the fact that I have a family with Mason in it. He finds my tales of cars, televisions, and airplanes fascinating, yet, I get the feeling I could have been reciting the entries in a dictionary and he would have been just as enraptured with what I was saying. I keep a careful eye on Mason because I know he can become jealous easily. Yet, my husband doesn’t show any signs of jealousy, even when Allen leans in to be closer to me. I think Mason feels the way I do and knows Allen is similar to a wounded animal, deserving our sympathy and care.
Even Malcolm, who stays leaned up against one of the walls, observing everything, looks at Allen with helpless pity. Allen is a good friend to us in our world, and seeing the way he turned out in this reality seems to be breaking all of our hearts.
After Angela and Daniel return, they place the cut up meat from the rabbits into the kettle over the fire. Allen asks Brand to sing us a song while we wait for the meat to cook. Gently, as though I might be made of glass, Allen takes me in his arms for a dance. I’m grateful he doesn’t try to make me dance a waltz, or whatever sort of dance they did back in the days of Robin Hood. He simply holds me close to him, allowing me to rest my cheek against his shoulder as we sway back and forth to Brand’s song.
“Marian,” Allen says, drawing my attention, “where ever did you get such a splendid sword?”
It’s then I see a natural way into Allen’s memories.
“I found it inside an inner realm,” I tell him. “This is Jophiel’s sword from the Garden of Eden.”
“Truly?” Allen asks, looking astounded by my revelation.
We stop dancing as he walks behind me to peer at the hilt more closely.
“Yes,” he says. “It is Jophiel’s sword. I remember seeing it once.”
I turn around so I can face Allen. When I do, I see everyone staring at me, as if to give silent warning that I need to tread carefully on the path I’m taking Allen down.
“Have you ever traveled to an inner realm?” I ask him casually, hoping to help him remember while keeping him calm.
Allen stares into my eyes for a time, and I’m not sure if I’ve already lost him or not. Finally, he begins to nod his head.
“Yes, I was taken to one once,” he admits, the creases of his brow deepening as memories from his true past begin to reemerge.
“I’ve only been to one,” I say, trying to sound slightly disappointed by the fact. “I wish I could see the one you went to. Do you think you could take me there one day?”
“Why would you want to go?” Allen asks suspiciously. “Isn’t it enough that you spent so much time in that fantastical world the witch trapped you in? Why do you want to leave me again, Marian?”
“But I wouldn’t be leaving you,” I say in what I hope is a soothing voice. “We would be there together, because you’re the only one who knows the way.”
The suspicion in Allen’s eyes gradually begins to fade.
“It is a wonderful place,” Allen tells me, his mood lightening. “The Archangel Michael created it and shared its location with only me. I couldn’t believe he would honor me in such a way. I felt truly blessed to have him show so much faith in me. I am a man of honor, Marian.” Allen grips my hand tightly. “I never wanted you to die,” he laments. “I didn’t know bringing my child into the world would end your life. If I had…”
I fear I might be losing control of the situation. If Allen begins to remember who he truly is, I’m afraid he might get lost in his own madness.
“I didn’t die,” I reassure him. “I was just lost for a while, that’s all. Now, I’m home with you and our daughter. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”
Allen begins to nod his head, accepting my words to him as truth.
“Can you take me to see the inner realm Michael created?” I ask him. “What did he hide there?”
“King Solomon’s Temple; Michael wanted to keep the Ark of the Covenant safe.”
For the first time since we arrived in this reality, I feel hopeful that we might actually be making progress towards one of our goals. A small spark of hope flares inside my chest, and I hold onto it for dear life.
“I’ve heard stories about the temple’s grandeur. I would feel so blessed if we could go see it together. Would you take me there?”
“Well, of course I will take you,” Allen says, his mood lifted by the opportunity to do something for me. “I would take you to the sun itself if that would make you happy.”
“Then show me the temple,” I say to him, as if we’re about to embark on a memorable adventure together.
Allen phases us, and I’m suddenly
standing in a room made of gold. Everyone else follows Allen’s phase trail, joining us in King Solomon’s Temple. It is a place many treasure hunters and archeologists spent their lives searching for but could never find. Considering where it had been kept hidden for all these years, it explained why no evidence of its existence has ever been discovered.
The walls are adorned with expertly carved cherubim which have winged-lion- shaped bodies and human heads wearing Egyptian-style headdresses. Every inch of the room has been overlaid in gold, allowing the flickering light of the candles from the golden lampstands, five on each side of the room, to fully illuminate the space, leaving no corner dark.
“There it is,” Allen says to me, pointing towards one end of the room where two massive golden cherubim statues, both at least fifteen feet tall, stand as protectors of what lies in between them… the Ark of the Covenant.
For some reason, I thought the Ark would look…fancier, in some way. I chalk my expectations up to watching Raiders of the Lost Ark one too many times. Although made out of gold, the box itself looks rather plain, lacking any embellishments except for the two cherubim sitting on either end of its lid.
“Would you care to see what’s inside it?” Allen asks, looking excited by the prospect of sharing such an experience with me.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I would.”
Allen tightens his hold on my hand as we begin to walk towards the five steps that lead from the nave of the temple to the elevated inner sanctum where the Ark stands. I’m faintly aware of everyone else following behind us, and become fully aware of trouble when I hear Angela scream.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I quickly turn around to find Angela being held captive by Asmodeus. He has one hand around the front of her throat, while holding her close to him with an arm tight around her slim waist. Mammon stands beside them, grinning cruelly at us all.
“My, my,” Mammon says, “you people from the Origin do seem to get around, even to places we didn’t know existed.”
“Angela!” Allen cries out, falling to his knees, as though the sight of his daughter in Asmodeus’ hands is draining him of life. “Please, please, I beg of you, don’t hurt her!”