The Garden Gate

by Christa J. Kinde

  After evensong drew to a close, Koji tiptoed across the grass to Abner’s side. When the Caretaker didn’t immediately notice him, the boy tugged at a sleeve edged in black stitchery. Cool gray eyes swung to his face, and Koji shyly asked, “Did you name all of these yahavim?”

  “I did.”

  “How?”

  Abner’s brows lifted, then drew together. “Can you rephrase your question?”

  “A name is something of great importance. How did you choose?”

  He puzzled that over, then inquired, “Have you been tasked with naming something?”

  “Indeed.” Koji edged closer. “A kitten.”

  The Caretaker clasped his hand behind his back. Leaning down he gravely inquired, “For starters, what color is this feline’s fur?”

  With a sigh of relief at finding help, Koji answered, “Mostly orange.”

  Marcus walked backwards, making sure Prissie and Koji were still following. As they slipped further into the orchard, the whole world seemed to be made of pink and white apple blossoms. Their gentle scent was stronger here, and the air hummed with honeybees. “Where are you taking us?” Prissie asked.

  “It’s a ways yet,” Marcus replied. “Deeper in. There’s a guy who wants to meet you before he moves on.”

  “Me?” Prissie’s hand tightened around Koji’s. A strange tension filled the air, and a part of her wanted very much to turn back. “Who is it?”

  The Protector answered in low tones. “His name’s Aril, and he’s been here for a couple hundred years . . . almost.”

  Prissie stopped in her tracks. Two hundred years again? “An angel.”

  “Obviously,” Marcus replied, smirking as he mimicked her pet word. “Keep walking.”

  “I don’t think I should,” she said, holding her ground. “This feels wrong.”

  Marcus paused, then backtracked. “Calm down, kiddo. We’ve been over this before. There’s no way I’d lead you into danger.”

  “Then why am I scared?”

  “You’ve never heard of holy fear? Reverence? Awe?” Marcus asked. “It makes sense you’re uneasy, considering where we are.”

  “I’m home,” Prissie argued, looking down at her feet. “I’ve been all over our farm.”

  “There’s more here than what can be seen.”

  “I know that much by now,” she sighed. “Visible and invisible.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Visible, invisible, and hidden. Your place has a secret. One we think Adin’s been after . . . for all the good it’ll do him.” He took hold of her other hand, giving it an impatient tug. “I’d just as soon not blurt it out. Wait until we find Padgett. He’ll make it safe to talk.”

  Koji interjected, “This is a Sending, Prissie. We should follow.”

  Figuring there were worse kinds of peer pressure, she allowed herself to be led. Prissie bumped her arm against Koji’s shoulder. “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Yes. Shimron entrusted the secret to me, but I have not seen for myself.”

  She could tell he was as eager to keep moving as Marcus. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”

  “Yes! For myself. For you.”

  “Why?” she pressed, frustrated by the continued evasion.

  The Observer took his time finding the right words. “You have shared parts of your world with me, and I have shared parts of my world with you. But where we are going is a place apart. It will be new for both of us, so we will share everything.”

  After a walk that stretched for acres, Prissie caught sight of something dark amidst the trees and dug in her heels. Had Adin found them?

  Marcus’s warm hand tightened around hers, which had gone to ice. “Can’t blame ya for being jumpy, but it’s kinda insulting. You’re about as safe as anybody can be.”

  She blushed, but Koji understood. He quietly reminded, “Padgett’s hair is black.”

  As soon as Prissie realized what she was seeing, she felt foolish. Marcus had already told them Padgett was waiting on them. The Caretaker perched on a low-slung limb in one of their apple trees, feet bare and hair nearly sweeping the ground. Koji hurried forward, clambering into the branches with his teammate. “Is it here?” he whispered loudly.

  “Close,” Padgett assured. “Good afternoon, miss.”

  She mumbled a greeting.

  Marcus let go of her hand, but he stuck close. “Better tell her what she’s in for. Might help calm her down.”

  The Caretaker jumped lightly from his seat and gazed into her upturned face with his almost-smile. He steadied her with a touch and quietly explained, “You’re here at Aril’s request. As part of the preparations for his departure, the Gatekeeper gives thanks to one of the people who unwittingly played host to his sojourn. Usually, this is accomplished in dreams, but since you already know so much, it’s been granted for you to know a little more.”

  “I’m going to meet . . . Aril,” she said, testing the name.

  “Yes.” Padgett guided Prissie further along the row, then cut into the next, angling through the orchard. “There’s nothing to fear, but Aril is a formidable person. His appearance may startle you. That’s only natural.”

  “Don’t be afraid to be afraid,” Marcus summarized with a smirk. “This guy’s impressive.”

  Koji wended his way back to Prissie’s side as they reached the thicket of wild apples in the back forty. Grandpa Pete always left the spot alone. Like his father and grandfather before him, he’d let nature take its course in this untamed corner of the orchard, setting it aside as a preserve for birds and bees. Padgett stopped before the tangle and stepped to one side. “Through here, miss.”

  Branches parted with a scattering of flower petals, and Prissie gasped as a short passage opened before them. The scene on the other side wasn’t something that belonged on her farm. Seemingly out of nowhere, a towering wood had sprouted up. Tropical foliage spilled over white stone walls, vivid with flowers, noisy with the twitter of birds. Warm air gently enveloped her, heavy with the scents of rich soil, spicy pollen, and sweet honey. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

  “Indeed,” Koji agreed.

  Prissie gaped up at the fringed leaves of palms and noticed that the sky swirled with lights that eddied like flowing water. “We went through the veil?”

  Padgett inclined his head. “Partway. We’re outside of time, but we’re still in a place. This is your family’s land.”

  Glancing behind, she saw for herself that the orchard was still visible, though her view of it was slightly distorted, as if it lay behind a sheer curtain swaying slightly in a balmy breeze. Marcus had taken up a stance in front of the thicket, guarding the way out, and she wondered if it was to keep her from bolting. Not that she could actually escape. The tree branches had closed behind them, hiding them away in this strange, secret place.

  “Miss Priscilla! Koji!” A familiar voice called from above. Milo pirouetted into a graceful landing just ahead of them, his wings settling behind him in a flowing blue cape. Spreading his arms wide, he cheerfully said, “Welcome.”

  “Thank you,” Prissie murmured with a relieved smile. Having Milo close banished any lingering fears. She peeked at Koji, but the young Observer’s attention was fully fixed on their destination. She followed his gaze to the gate set into the high walls.

  A short flight of wide, stone stairs fanned outward from an imposing gateway, flanked on either side by twin columns. No door hung between these columns, but there was most definitely something in the way. “What’s that?” she whispered.

  “Who,” Milo gently corrected. “And it will be my pleasure to introduce you.”

  A great sword turned this way and that before the imposing entrance, blazing with flames that danced and flickered along its double edge. “I thought Aril would be a person,” she whispered.

  The blade suddenly spun back on itself, and in a twinkling, changed into an angel who was surely twice as tall as Jedrick or Taweel, the largest, strongest warriors in her acquaintance.
Aril wasn’t just a person. He was a giant!

  Padgett rested his hand on her shoulder. “Aril is one of the seraphim, an angel from God’s very throne room, but he was given a new task. He’s now a Gatekeeper, and this is his post.”

  As Milo lifted his hand and stepped forward, Aril descended the stairs, coming closer. The giant’s raiment was limited to a short pair of close-fitting pants, and his wings were like feathers of flame, as different from Milo’s as his were from Kester’s. And there were six of them! Two sets extended behind his back, sweeping outward above his head and off to the sides. The final set’s delicate tips swept harmlessly against the grass. Though they flickered and danced, they didn’t burn anything.

  Milo announced, “Miss Priscilla, this is Aril, keeper of the First Gate. Aril, I’d like you to meet Miss Priscilla Pomeroy . . . and Koji, Shimron’s new apprentice.”

  The young Observer went up on tiptoe. “I hoped to meet you! Are you the only seraph on earth?”

  “The only one Faithful,” Aril replied, his voice like mellow thunder. Large eyes in a striking shade of orange focused on Prissie, rendering her tongue-tied.

  Milo stood between Prissie and Aril, acting as both shield and bridge. His smile offered encouragement. “Fear not, Miss Priscilla. This friend is the ultimate gentle giant . . . provided you don’t try to slip through the gate he keeps.”

  “Yeah, that’d get ugly,” Marcus casually agreed. Stepping to her side, he nudged her with his elbow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Aril’s epic. True facts.”

  Rallying, Prissie quickly called, “I’m pleased to meet you. And I’m not afraid. Only surprised.” With a sidelong glance at Koji, she added, “This is also my first time to meet one of the seraphim.”

  “A rare thing, this side of heaven,” Milo said, beckoning her closer. “But completely unique for Aril, as well. His post is a lonely one.”

  “I have never complained.” Perhaps Aril hoped to present a less daunting aspect, for he took a seat upon the bottommost step and furled his wings. They settled across gray skin, emblazoning his back and arms, but also his midriff and legs. The orange markings swayed across his skin, licking like flames. Fire and ash. “However, I can understand your belief,” Aril said. “Messengers are such social creatures.”

  Milo chuckled. “And you cherish each and every one of us!”

  The giant folded his hands together, the picture of patience. “Those made to listen must be grateful for those made to talk.”

  Prissie’s awe was slipping, and she traded a look with Koji. Her best friend was smiling, and it took no effort to join him. Aril seemed nice. For a sword. Or seraph. She didn’t know if she could truly be friends with Aril since he was going away, but maybe she could follow Ida’s example for once . . . and be cozy right from the beginning. “You can call me Prissie,” she offered. “Most everyone does.”

  “Thank you, Prissie, daughter of the Pomeroys,” Aril replied with touches of formality. “Your lands have been my resting place for many years. I offer you thanks for your hospitality.”

  “This property’s my grandfather’s, and I know he’d want me to let you know that you’re welcome here. Very welcome.” Someone else probably could have said it better, but Prissie meant every word. “Grandpa’s always called this the prettiest corner of our property, so you picked a good spot to stay.”

  Koji asked, “Or is this place beautiful because you are here?”

  Aril gazed at the landscape that had been his view for two centuries. “Who can say? The land flourishes with every turn of the seasons. And it is not always quiet. I was especially delighted when the fairgrounds were established.”

  Milo grandly declared, “Legions of angels fill the sky, and untold beauties lie beyond this gate. But it’s the Ferris wheel that Aril will miss most!”

  “Yes. And the fireworks. And harvesttime, when the pickers come through. And that boy-child.” Aril nodded at the slope beyond, saying, “The last time I saw him, he rode past this thicket on a pig.”

  “Zeke,” groaned Milo.

  Koji climbed up onto the step and sat right beside the Gatekeeper, not one bit intimidated. Prissie slowly closed the distance between them, but there was no graceful way for her to get up in her skirt. Now that she was closer, she took in more details. Aril’s hair was blue-black and parted in strange patterns. Prissie thought he looked to be about her father’s age, or maybe it was just that he had an air of maturity. Or maybe it was his pace. Slow movements, slow words. “Are you one of the First?” she asked.

  “I am.” Glancing over his shoulder at the pair of columns rising above them, he said, “This has been my task almost from the beginning.”

  “Almost,” Padgett agreed in a soft voice.

  “You guard this entrance?” Prissie asked.

  “I do,” Aril replied.

  She peered up at the beautifully-carved columns. Intricate tracery and leafy vines spiraled up the smooth, stone pillars, which were as high as a house and thicker than any oak. Each was topped by an elaborate capital. And there were carvings of leaves, flowers, pomegranates, and a network of crisscrossing chains. With a start, she realized why the design looked so familiar. They were the same elements that decorated the blue door. “Where does it go?”

  Koji tentatively asked, “Can you guess?”

  Despite the expectant gazes of the others, Prissie shook her head in embarrassment. “I’m not very good with riddles. Is this in the Bible or something?”

  “Indeed,” replied Koji.

  Nothing showed beyond the stone wall besides the lush greenery. Half to herself, she said, “Definitely not a city gate.”

  Milo hinted, “It’s a garden gate, Miss Priscilla.”

  Padgett stepped close. “What’s the name of your home town, Prissie?”

  “West Edinton,” she replied dubiously, still not grasping the significance.

  Koji coached, “West Edinton, the town west of . . . ?”

  Edin. With a soft gasp, she whispered the impossible. “Eden?”

  They were smiling. She was right. But that made no sense. The Garden of Eden should be halfway around the world. She dredged up a few terms from old Bible lessons — ​Mesopotamia and the Fertile Crescent. This was definitely the wrong continent. The wrong hemisphere, even! Shaking her head, she checked, “The Garden of Eden is in my backyard?”

  Padgett hummed. “It would be more correct to say that the way in is hidden here.”

  Prissie giggled weakly. “The tree with the forbidden fruit. You actually hid it in an apple orchard?”

  “Abner’s idea.” Padgett smiled faintly. “Gardens of one form or another usually rise up around these hiding places. Meadows, groves, fields, vineyards — ​places of remarkable fruitfulness and beauty.”

  Milo said, “There are spots all over the world where people stand in awe. They call these places paradise, and they’re closer to the truth than they realize.”

  “This gate was there?”

  “Exactly!” the Messenger replied. “Sometimes, we refer to them as the footprints of Eden. Because even after the gate moves on, a special beauty lingers.”

  Staring past Aril at the entrance, Prissie asked, “And Adin is looking for it?”

  “Yes,” Milo replied softly. “Ephron confirmed that after he was returned.”

  Padgett said, “Adin’s quest has tempted many of the Fallen. He’s merely the latest, but also one of the cleverest. He’s closer than he realizes.”

  “Like they say,” Marcus drawled. “A miss is as good as a mile.”

  “What good would it do a demon to find the Garden of Eden?” Prissie asked.

  “Good is not their goal,” Aril replied. “Or perhaps it is, in a roundabout way. The damned hope to save themselves.”

  Prissie shook her head, and Milo stepped in to explain. “Demons know what’s in store for them. Their end is sure, and it’s not pretty. Because of that, some of them are searching for a work-around. A loophole. They think t
hat if they can find the First Gate, they can get into Eden . . . and snatch life from the jaws of death.”

  “They want to live in Eden?” she checked.

  The Messenger peered through the gate. “I suppose that could be part of it, but their ultimate goal isn’t the garden. They want something God planted at its center.”

  “Do you mean the tree?”

  Koji interjected, “There are two trees.”

  Milo nodded. “That’s right. Eve took fruit from ‘the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,’ and shared it with Adam. That was the fall of humanity. But it’s the second tree that Adin is after.”

  “Oh!” Prissie’s eyes widened as she recalled something. “There are two trees on the blue door!”

  “Yep. Those are these,” Marcus said. He was watching her with a thoughtful expression. No smirks. No sass. He almost looked . . . worried?

  Unbothered by the interruption, Milo continued. “The second tree is known as ‘the tree of life.’ The Fallen want eternity back, and they think they can steal it.” Shaking his head, he added, “It’s a false hope.”

  “It wouldn’t work?” Prissie asked.

  Padgett hesitated. “It would. That’s why the way is so carefully hidden.”

  “Can’t find it without combing the planet. Can’t get close without a Caretaker. Can’t get in without messing with Aril.” Marcus folded his arms over his chest. “That’s a whole lotta can’t. But . . . .”

  When the young Protector trailed off, Prissie pushed for more. “But . . . ?”

  “You can’t make someone see the truth if they’d rather believe a lie.” Marcus was dead serious. “Adin’s not gonna give up anytime soon. And he’s as pissed as he is panicky. Not a good combination.”

  “He’s scared?”

  “With good reason,” Aril answered. “He will rage against heaven. He will deny the inevitable. He will sharpen his tongue. He will lie with a smile on his face. But he cannot reach what God has hidden.”

  Marcus muttered, “Amen and amen.”

  Even though Prissie knew angels didn’t pray, the Gatekeeper’s next words held an air of benediction. “Honor what is good. Follow what is right. Seek what is yours. Hold what is true.” After a brief pause, Aril’s gaze rested on Prissie as he finished, “And when your Sending comes, go.”