The Garden Gate

by Christa J. Kinde

  “In what? You?” Adin demanded. “The Faithful who failed her? She’s nothing but a vain, self-important girl. I stole everything she held dear. Such a feeble faith must falter! Such a pitiable Faithful must Fall!”

  Tamaes blinked several times. Up until now, he’d only seen such willful blindness in humans. “Did you unlearn every truth you were taught?”

  Adin hissed. “The truth doesn’t serve me.”

  “That is no great surprise,” murmured Tamaes, whose memories of Adin weren’t all bad. “Since you no longer serve the Truth.”

  “The Fallen are a plague upon the earth and under the earth,” Abner intoned. He stood in the center of the open field between the fairgrounds and the ridge marking the park’s border. Gaze fixed on the sky, he watched as vivid points of light zinged across the orchard. Bright as hope. Bringing battle to the enemy. He clasped his hands behind his back, awaiting his moment. Knowing it was soon.

  “These are interesting days,” Abner remarked as more than twenty Guardians circled his location, weaving in and out of each other’s paths. “Has the entire Hedge been Sent?”

  “Nearly so,” replied Jedrick, whose boots touched the ground.

  “Captain,” Abner greeted.

  The Protector offered a curt nod. “Taweel says this is the way.”

  “He would know.”

  After a lengthy pause, Jedrick inquired, “Will the way open?”

  “Ah. Yes,” the Caretaker replied, glancing at the soft green grasses springing up around their feet. “That would be my part. If you would be so good . . . ?”

  Sheathing his sword, the powerful Protector lifted the slender angel, easily tucking him into the crook of one arm. “At your convenience,” Jedrick invited, smiling faintly. Green wings buoyed them as the earth beneath his feet vanished. One after the other, the members of the Pomeroy family’s Hedge dove into the chasm. An uncommon sending, but perhaps the best possible selection. These were Tamaes’s closest companions. “His brothers,” Jedrick murmured.

  Abner glanced sharply at him, but he inclined his head. “Better brothers than the likes of Adin. Let his family gather him home.”

  “Amen and amen.”

  The warriors streamed into the portal, which transferred them directly into the chamber where the Deep’s door stood. Its guards lifted startled faces as the stream of angels flowed into the darkness and wheeled through the cavern, waiting for direction. Abner said, “We walk from here.”

  Once Jedrick set him on his feet, the Caretaker strode into one of the tunnels. But he didn’t depend upon the natural pathway. Time and again, he opened a passage through a blank wall, cutting straight through stone, plunging deeper into a darkness that normally made creatures of light uneasy. No one complained.

  “We have seen no opposition,” Taweel remarked.

  “Yet,” said Abner.

  Jedrick asked, “Do you see something we cannot?”

  “From time to time.”

  “Now?” his captain pressed.

  For his answer, Abner lit the way ahead, temporarily illuminating a furtive enemy. As the demon skittered away, the floor softened, trapping the Fallen by his ankles before sucking him down. “Catch as catch can,” the Caretaker called, striding forward, barefoot and blazing. “The Deep awaits all who would stand against the God of heaven.”

  Taweel grunted in surprise when another foe leapt at them, only to have the rock wall ripple outward and fold around the equally startled demon. Their next would-be opponent faltered as soon as he realized he was up against a Caretaker. He pitched backward into empty space. Shrieked curses accompanied his tumble into captivity.

  “So much for the element of surprise,” Jedrick sighed as yet another demon melted into the shadows, vanishing from view.

  Abner waved off any concern. “Let them herald our coming.”

  “Is this what you expected, Adin?” Tamaes slowly flexed his fingers, trying to regain some feeling. “The lies you believed . . . that led you here . . . that left you here. Did they promise darkness and defeat?”

  “See for yourself!” snarled the demon. “Fall already!”

  “I am and always will be Faithful.”

  Adin repeated, “Fool! You’ve been left here to rot!”

  Tamaes shook his head. “I am not forsaken.” Just then, a shout rose further along the tunnels, echoing strangely off the walls. Tamaes peered at his tormentor through the curtain of his hair. “Even in the darkest places, light can shine. All that is needed is for one to bring it.”

  “Dinge! Murque!” With an impatient hiss, Adin stalked to the slash of deeper darkness that indicated the tunnel beyond Tamaes’s prison. “Answer me!”

  “Perhaps you have been forsaken,” the Guardian commented. “Listen.”

  A distant scream rent the silence.

  “Impossible,” growled Adin.

  Tamaes’s voice took on a lilting quality as hope swelled in his chest. “I hear the voices of my friends. I see the light of heaven. I know my rescue is at hand.”

  Flinging himself at his prisoner, Adin twisted his hands into the wrecked tunic and shook. “Shall we see how many more scars I can leave on your body before they reach you?” Hatred burned in the demon’s eyes. “Prissie will wish she’d never laid eyes on you!”

  “That honor belongs to you,” Tamaes replied. “Your chance is spent. Your time has ended. You will Fall deeper, and chains will bind you.”

  “Wrong, my twin. I will prove you wrong!” Adin laughed, a high, hysterical cackle. “In the end, you will follow me . . . just as you should. Yes, that is how it must be!”

  They pressed inexorably forward, driving toward the corner in which Adin had stashed Tamaes. On some level, Taweel dreaded what they might find. Adin had always been clever, and his Fall had twisted that aspect into cruelty. The demon had done everything in his power to ruin Ephron. Taweel could only imagine what Tamaes was enduring. “Soon?” he asked, his voice rougher than intended.

  Abner spared him a glance. “Soon.”

  Taweel’s need to reach his apprentice intensified. Tamaes was his responsibility, and he longed to carry him back into the light. And to return him to Prissie. The girl’s dream had sheltered the suffering Guardian . . . and led to this Sending. Yes, it was time to reunite Tamaes and Prissie. “Soon,” he repeated, making it a promise.

  “Actually,” Abner remarked. “Now.”

  The wall before them vanished, pouring light into the filthy crevice where Tamaes was strung up, his wrists bound over his head, leaving him defenseless against his captor.

  “No!” Taweel roared as Adin’s blade ripped upward and Tameas lurched.

  The demon wrenched a twisted dagger from under his prisoner’s ribs. Luminous blood splashed upon the floor, and Adin squinted at the throng, eyes darting from face to face, missing nothing. “Guardians?” he spat, as if the word were an obscenity.

  The weapon in his hand crumbled to dust as Abner stepped forward. The Caretaker’s eyes were cold as a winter morning as he said, “I am Sent to him, not to you.”

  Without another word, Adin slunk away.

  Lucan asked, “Why did you let him go?”

  Abner gravely replied, “His time will come.”

  While Taweel cut Tamaes’s bonds, Jedrick shouldered forward, gingerly wrapping his arm around the battered prisoner. “Lean on me, Tamaes.”

  “Yes, Captain,” he replied in a voice that broke. “Gladly.”

  Grunting with the effort, Taweel tore the restraints from their moorings, and with a groan, Tamaes collapsed. Though his strength was gone, he met the gaze of every Hedge-mate who’d come to his aid, whispering their names in grateful tones. Gentle touches. Reassuring words. The brush of wings. And blessed light. Abner smoothed away Tamaes’s shackles as if they were made of clay, and Taweel hauled Tamaes into his arms. “Was there ever a more troublesome apprentice? Omri will have a thing or two to say when he sees how dim you are.”

  “Is Prissie safe?” />
  Abner stepped in. “The girl is more cloistered than Shimron in his tower . . . and as secure as the First Gate.”

  “I am grateful,” Tamaes breathed.

  “You are also unfit for duty,” Abner said, taking hold of a lusterless orange fold, he tutted over the state of the Guardian’s wings.

  “That hurts, Abner!”

  “Not surprised,” he said kindly, his hands assessing his new patient’s haggard frame. “This is bad and worse, but perhaps not the worst. Still, I prescribe haste and home.”

  With a rattle of weapons and clatter of boots, the Hedge closed ranks around Taweel, who was only too happy to have his apprentice back under the shelter of his wings.

  “Adin will not give up,” Tamaes relayed in a hoarse whisper.

  Taweel grunted. “In that respect, you two are still alike.”

  “I hate waiting!” Prissie complained to her as-yet-unnamed kitten. At the sound of her voice, the baby lifted big, blue eyes and licked his whiskers. She touched the tip of one soft ear and explained, “It’s been hours.”

  Omri hummed softly in her ear, and she quickly added, “But I’m sure they’re fine.”

  With a squeaky mew, the kitten stepped into the saucer of warm milk. Glad for the distraction from her worries, Prissie gently chided, “Messy boy! You have milk all down your chin, and now it’s between your toes. You’re in for a licking from your momma.” He lifted one foot, then the other, shaking his small paws in such a comical fashion, Prissie found herself smiling.

  Lesson over, she returned the roly-poly baby to the repurposed dog house Grandpa Pete had set up on the back porch for Tansy and her litter. Once he was weaned, the ginger-and-white kitten would move in with her. She was still amused that Koji had resorted to vocal auditions to find the pick of the litter. Her new companion had been chosen based on the pitch of his purring. “Only an angel . . .” she murmured, meandering up the back stairs and slipping through her bedroom door.

  She was ill-prepared to find Kester waiting there. He gave her quite a scare.

  The Worshiper’s wings were on full display, their kaleidoscope of color making up for the lack of stained glass in her window. Her tiny room was filled with glorious light. Faint musical chimes teased at the edges of her ability to hear as each vibrant shard swayed upon threads of lightning.

  Prissie released her breath in a sigh. “They’re even more beautiful up close,” she whispered.

  “I apologize if I startled you,” the tall angel replied. “This is where Abner put me.”

  “It’s okay. I thought Koji would be the one . . . or Harken. Even Padgett.” A new thought occurred to her, and she choked on a sudden surge of fear. “D-did they Send you because it’s bad news?”

  Kester slowly shook his head. “Why would you make that assumption?”

  “Because I’ll fall to pieces,” she confessed, tears already stinging.

  “You find my presence comforting?” he asked, holding out his hand to her. She took it, and he said, “I am glad, but you do not need me to dry your tears. Not unless they are tears of joy. Your Guardian is safe.”

  “Safe,” she breathed. “They found him.”

  “Most assuredly.”

  Omri launched himself into a dizzying dance that forced Prissie to cover her face. Which was just as well because tears were close. “Not again,” she moaned. Prissie was heartily sick of crying.

  Kester chaffed her hand between his, warming it while she pulled herself together. His accent thickened slightly as he relayed more details. “Tamaes is safe. Taweel carried him out and is still at his side.”

  “Is he badly hurt?” Prissie asked in a small voice.

  The Worshiper hesitated. “Yes, but Abner is tending to his injuries. I overheard him telling Padgett that all that was done could be undone. Tamaes will need rest, but he will be whole.”

  “Thank goodness,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “Thank God.”

  “Will you come away for a time? Tamaes wants to see you as soon as possible.”

  “Please!” Prissie quickly added, “But not without Koji. I have to stay with Koji.”

  Inclining his head, Kester said, “I expected no less. You may go summon him.”

  She frowned, then tapped her head. “Can’t you just call him?”

  “I could. But I think he would like to hear this news from you.”

  “He hasn’t heard?”

  Kester shook his head. “Go. Share your joy. When the two of you return, Padgett will open a way for us.”

  “Sure!” she exclaimed, rushing for the door. “I’ll be right back!”

  “Omri and I will wait here,” he replied calmly.

  Prissie ran down the hall and leaned through the little boys’ bedroom door. “Where’s Koji?” she asked.

  “Dunno,” Zeke replied. “Why?”

  “Nevermind!” she replied. Down the back stairs. Into the kitchen. Beau and Neil were at the kitchen table, and she repeated, “Where’s Koji?”

  “He just left,” her younger brother reported.

  Neil pointed to the back door. “He went that-a-way!”

  Why now, of all times, would Koji go out by himself? Hadn’t he promised not to leave her alone? As Prissie made her way down the sidewalk, she wondered if he’d been Sent. But now wasn’t the best time for a game of hide-and-seek. Or maybe she should be grateful that she’d be able to share her news where no one else would overhear. “Which way, which way?” she muttered, aiming toward the fence and its view of the folly.

  She didn’t see any sign of him, so she did the only thing that made sense. “Koji!” she called. “Where are you?”

  Immediately, he leaned through the barn door, eyes wide. “I am here.”

  She darted inside, pulling him after her, and yanked him into a fierce hug. “He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s safe!” Her voice was hoarse as she tried to keep more tears at bay.

  “Tamaes?” he gasped, hugging her back.

  Nodding, Prissie urged, “Let’s go see him.”

  Koji’s hold tightened. “Soon,” he promised. “Just a little longer.”

  “Is something wrong?” she whispered, worried at his tone.

  “Prissie?”

  “Yes?”

  His sigh tickled the wispy curls at the nape of her neck. “The date for my departure is set.”

  “Wh-what? But it’s too early.”

  “We will still share many days, but my time as a Graft is going to end. And that ending has grown closer.”

  Prissie knew. But she didn’t think Koji was saying these things for her sake. Was this why he’d slipped away from the house? Why did the good news have to be mingled with bad? Maybe it would always be this way — ​moments of pure joy tempered by doses of reality. Give and take. And gratitude.

  Koji clasped his hands behind her back, circling Prissie with slender arms as he looked past the barn’s rafters and sang. Parts were sweet, thanking God for a teammate rescued, but his lyrics included a plaint of sorrow. He was sad too. Deeply so.

  Prissie had always known Koji cared, but it was comforting to hear him speak of his confusion and regret so openly. He didn’t think it was unfair. He didn’t tell God to change His plans. He just expressed his feelings for a precious friend and asked for patience until forever was their home.

  Looking back, she felt foolish for resisting the angels who’d barged in on her life. Ignoring them hadn’t driven them away. And clinging to them wouldn’t keep them at her side. They were God’s. Not hers.

  His song tapered off, and he quietly invited, “Let us go to Tamaes.”

  It was her turn to whisper, “Just a little longer.”

  Koji nodded and silently leaned into her, a peaceful expression on his face.

  Prissie closed her eyes and reminded herself of something that helped just a little. Koji wasn’t hers. He was God’s. But so was she.

  Prissie was spared from another emotional reunion by Omri, who buzzed past her through the narrow
opening Padgett created. The yahavim flew straight to Tamaes, produced a small flurry of manna, and shoved it into the startled Guardian’s mouth, squeaking the entire time.

  Tamaes sat upon a cushioned bench, his elbows on his knees as Abner stooped behind him. Rolls of bandages and basins of water littered the grass; auburn hair hung dark and damp against Tamaes’s cheeks, and he wore fresh raiment. At the sight of her, his wings jerked up and outward.

  “Oh, for mercy’s sake. Try to contain yourself,” Abner grumbled. “You’ll only hurt yourself like that.”

  “I know,” Tamaes replied, speaking through clenched teeth.

  “Let him,” Taweel said, beckoning to Prissie. “He needs to reassure himself.”

  Prissie couldn’t look away from her guardian’s trembling wings. They’d been ripped to ribbons. Kester gently took her arm and led her forward as Abner chided his companions. “It’s only natural for a Guardian to wish to spread his wings over his charge, but . . . well, look at this mess! I left them for last because they’ll take the longest to mend.”

  “Does it hurt?” Prissie asked.

  Tamaes offered his hand, murmuring, “Do not worry for me, little one.”

  Abner shook his head. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s in pain.”

  Padgett quietly moved to his mentor’s side. “You could distract him for us, miss.”

  “How?”

  Koji suggested, “Let him hold you. He wants to.”

  Tamaes’s eyes widened, and Prissie could see the hope he tried to hide from her. This was probably going to be very embarrassing. But only for her. Everyone else was trying to hide their smiles. Kester patted her back and said, “I brought an instrument. Between the two of us, I am certain we can soothe his rattled senses.”

  Maybe she was dragging her feet just a little, but she asked, “Will everyone else be coming?”

  Abner snorted. “Tamaes needs quiet.”

  Prissie glanced around. Slender trees ringed their small clearing, growing so close together that their branches wove together, creating a wall. There was no way in or out that she could see, unless you had wings. Open to the now-familiar shifting sky, their hideaway was bathed in the light Tamaes had been lacking for too long. This is what he needed most. Manna and mending. Heaven and . . . her.