Lorrieann’s World

 

 

Gabriel stood on the marble balcony of the fortress he’d called home his entire existence, looking out over the lush, green valley of Arcana for the first time. He leaned on the railing, the marble cool beneath his palms, and planted his face into the stream of a passing breeze, drinking in the smell of the living valley. Above him, a flock of starlings dipped and swirled within their perfectly choreographed air-dance, moving as if they were of one mind. The river sparkled like diamond shards as it meandered through the valley, and Gabriel smiled at the thought of the fish that were swimming beneath the surface, going about their business of feeding and spawning, blissfully unaware of their own existence.

“Oh, that it could stay this way,” Gabriel sighed, turning to his companion. Malus nodded, his ashen face expressionless. “I wish you could know how this feels, Malus. Then perhaps you would not be so gloomy. Perhaps you could even feel glad for me.”

Malus shrugged his shoulders. “I am neither gloomy nor glad, Master. I am . . . practical.”

“Practical?” Gabriel asked, amused. “You tell me you don’t feel the slightest bit of envy for me? When I tell you of the wonders of touch and smell, and the feel of my own heartbeat within my breast . . . I can laugh, Malus, and dance! I know what it is to feel warmth, the coolness of the breeze, the kiss of the sun. Look into my eyes, and tell me you do not envy these things.”

“Laughter and joy or tears and sorrow I know well enough without being mortal. But I imagine, that with touch comes pain, with taste comes hunger and thirst and with life comes . . . no, master, I do not envy you,” he replied, quietly.

Gabriel turned quietly and looked down from his balcony to the garden below. The walk that lead from his house—he’d never thought of it as a house until now—was paved in alabaster bricks leading into the center of the garden. Four other brick-paved paths, each beginning from a different stone monolith bearing an elaborate mysterious carving, crossed the garden from point to point. From Gabriel’s vantage point, one could clearly see the pentagram created by the brick paths. He drew his attention to the raised pavilion in the center of the garden, where the benches had been placed for his guests. He noted that Malus had gone to lengths to make the pavilion comfortable, with cushions on the benches and a table set with an array of drinking vessels and jugs to help his guests feel at home.

“Are you certain of the drinks?” Gabriel asked, stroking his chin. “Are they appropriate?”

“Oh, I believe so. I should think they’ll enjoy them,” Malus answered, a bit defensively. “I’m sorry about the suit, master, all human fashion looks about the same to me, how was I to know it was a hundred years, out of—”

“Peace, Malus.” Gabriel held up his hand, and smiled. “I trust you. And what know I of fashion? Besides, I rather like this suit. Even if it is a century out of date.”

Malus allowed a rare smile. “Yes, sir.” He glanced toward the garden. “They’re waking,” he said simply.

Gabriel followed Malus’ gaze, to the benches in the center of the garden where his six guests were sleeping on the velvet cushions. Each was beginning to stir slightly. “Yes, you’re right.” He clutched the ball of his cane tightly in his hand, a sudden tremble worming its way down his middle. “It is time. Join me?”

* * *

“They look so peaceful,” Malus remarked as Gabriel moved from bench to bench, quietly observing each resting occupant. “Perhaps we could let them rest for a while longer, yet.” A low grumble in the distance followed by a tremor beneath their feet was his answer.

Gabriel glanced to each of the four monoliths that surrounded the garden, frowning at the hairline cracks that were appearing with each grumble that shook the ground. “Would that I could, Malus. Would that I had not brought them here at all, but as you see . . . it must be now.”

Malus sighed, and walked into the open space at the northern point of the pentagram. A slender bell tower wrought of the same alabaster as the paving tiles rose skyward from the center of the point. At the top, a silver bell shown brilliantly against the newborn Arcana sunshine. The bell had been there forever of course, but today would be the first time its song would be heard in Arcana. Malus grasped the golden bell pull, giving one more glance to Gabriel, his eyes saying, “are you sure?”

“Ring the bell, Malus,” Gabriel said gently, his heart leaping with anticipation. “Wake my guests.”

Malus pulled the cord, the bell rocked slowly until the clapper at last made contact with the side and the tone echoed sweet and clear across the valley. He pulled again, allowing the momentum of the swaying to set his timing—one chime per second. The echoes grew louder with each ring, lapping at the monoliths, reverberating from every corner of the garden. As if in answer to the wakening call, a gentle breeze swirled around the center of the garden, breathing life into the table linens.

Gabriel looked up to the top of each monolith. The pennants that had adorned them for ages, that had always hung perfectly still, suddenly billowed to life, flaunting their colors to the sky, white, red, black, and yellow, respectively on each of the four stone sentries.

Another tremor shook the ground. Gabriel raised his hand signaling Malus to stop. He stood as still as a statue until the last echo died, and the ground no longer shook. The breeze departed with the echoes, and once again the pennants hung limply from the monoliths. Gabriel closed his eyes and whispered, “Please, allow me this in my own time, milord. Have I not been faithful these eons in your service that I must be rushed through this most monumental task?” The breeze returned and caressed on his face. He relaxed a bit. “Thank you.”

He opened his eyes, and forced a confident smile to Malus, motioning him to the table to stand ready to pour drinks for his guests as required.

One by one, they started to move and stir. Malus hurried to Gabriel’s side, handing him a slip of parchment, then hurried back to his station at the table. Gabriel glanced at the list he’d been given, then approached the first bench. He lowered himself to one knee beside the bench and called gently, “Janie.”

“Hmm?” She yawned, bringing her hands to rub her eyes. “What time is it? I have to go . . . ” Her eyes opened full, and she gasped in surprise. “Who . . . what?”

“Peace, dear lady,” Gabriel smiled, snapping his fingers to Malus. Instantly, Malus placed a cup of orange juice in Gabriel’s hand. He gave it a curious glance and a sniff, then handed it to Janie. “For you, just as you like it.”

Janie stared dumbly, accepting the cup automatically. She took a sip then looked into the cup surprised, thirstily drinking down the rest of the juice. She looked up sheepishly, and handed the cup back to Gabriel. “I . . . thank you, that was . . . I didn’t realize I was so thirsty . . . I’m sorry if I’m being rude, staring but . . . ”

“Oh, tut. You are not capable of being rude, milady. I’m glad the juice was to your liking.” Gabriel stood, still smiling, and bowed politely, moving to the next bench, leaving Janie still staring at him dumbly.

Gabriel glanced at his list. “Professor Fairbank, I presume.”

Spenser blinked twice, setting his sight first on Gabriel, then all around. He spun quickly on the bench, looking up to each of the monoliths, then to Gabriel again. His eyes were wide, and for a moment Gabriel feared the man was about to panic and run, when suddenly the professor burst into a gleeful laugher. “Marvelous!”

Gabriel laughed a little with him, catching Spenser’s amusement. “Welcome,” he said, as Malus presented him with a cup of coffee. Gabriel handed it to Spenser.

Spenser sniffed in the aroma grandly, then sipped. “Hazelnut!” he exclaimed, then settled on the bench to drink as Gabriel moved onward.

The woman on the third bench was already sitting up, covering her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Holy shit, what a dream.” She lowered her hands to see Gabriel kneeling before her. She gasped a bit, then sat gawking. “And it ain’t over yet is it?”

“Welcome Dr. Staunton,” he said, handing her a cup of something bubbly that stung his nose as he sniffed it. “For you.”

She accepted the cup, as the others had, and took a sip, and laughed a little. “First time I ever drank a coke in a dream. Even tastes real.”

Gabriel chuckled, and moved along, careful not to look back at those he’d already woken. Perhaps they all believe it is a dream . . . good then. That may make it easier. He knelt to the fourth bench and paused, watching the gentle breathing of the woman lounging on the bench. Of all of them, she seemed the only one who had not begun to stir at the sound of the bell. The breeze played on her hair, tossing one long auburn tress across her cheek. Tentatively, he brushed the hair from her cheek, allowing the strand to linger on his fingertips. How soft it is. Behind him, he felt Malus’s impatient glare. “Yes, Malus,” he said, reaching for whatever cup Malus was holding without turning his gaze away from the woman sleeping on the fourth bench. He glanced into the cup, then turned a confused look to Malus. “Water?”

Malus gave him a curt nod, then moved back to the table.

Gabriel shrugged, turning back to the woman. The wind had blown the hair back to her face and he resisted the urge to reach out to take it in his hand again. “Maggie,” he said, gently. “Awaken, please.”

Maggie opened her eyes slowly, haphazardly raking the hair from her face. “What is it?” She asked dreamily, then bolted upright. “Who the hell are you?”

“Peace, milady. You are my guest, I bid you welcome,” Gabriel replied calmly, offering the cup of water to Maggie.

“Back off, Jack,” she spat, pushing the cup up suddenly, soaking Gabriel’s face. She jumped to her feet, then froze, taking in her surroundings. “Where the hell am I? Who are you? How did I get here? I want some goddamned answers!”

Gabriel stood slowly, biting his tongue against the sharp rebuke he wanted to shout against her coarse language. He raised his hand toward her shoulder, she glared and pushed it away. “Sit!” he commanded, bringing his hand down to her shoulder. She went silent immediately, lowering herself to her bench, her hazel eyes flashing furious curses to Gabriel. He kept his voice calm, but the gentle velvet he’d used before was replaced with a harder edge. “All of your questions will be answered in time, madam. In my time. In the meantime, you are my guest.” He reached out for the cup Malus was holding, and offered it to her, noting with a bit of amusement that it was now filled with fresh hot coffee. Gabriel gave Malus a slight nod of gratitude as he stepped to the next bench, wiping his soaked face with his sleeve.

The occupant of the fifth bench was just pulling himself up to sit when Gabriel bowed in greeting. “Good day to you, sir. I bid you welcome.”

The man looked up, startled. “You!” he pointed an accusing finger. “I know you. You’re . . . you’re . . . ” He dropped his hand, confused.

“Yes, I am.” Gabriel smiled, handing him the cup that Malus had provided, containing a bloody looking substance. “For you, sir. I hope you find it to your liking.”

“Thank you,” the man said absently, taking the cup then sipping. He nodded his approval, holding out a hand in greeting. “Kohler, M. Robert . . . the M. Robert Kohler, and you are?”

Gabriel grinned and accepted Kohler’s handshake, more fascinated with the sensation of the touch of his flesh than of the odd way the man squeezed his hand. “I am . . . your host, sir,” was his reply as he withdrew and stood to his full height. Again he turned his back and walked to the last bench, being careful not to look behind him, but knowing his guests were all watching.

He approached the last bench quietly. The lad lay with his back to Gabriel shivering, his knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, his face concealed beneath a tussle of long, curly hair. Gabriel walked around the bench, and knelt. Gently, he pushed the hair from the boy’s face and saw the silver trail sparkling from the corner of his eye down his cheek. “So young, this one,” Gabriel whispered. “What folly have you lead me to, that you throw children into this ring? Surely there were others . . . ”

The boy sighed, drawing his knees up tighter for a moment before opening his eyes. He said nothing, but sat up slowly, his back still to the others. He faced the monolith to the east, its yellow banner swaying gently in the breeze, glancing from it, to Gabriel, to the lush valley beyond. “Sir? What is this place?” he asked quietly.

Gabriel held out his hand toward Malus, receiving the appropriate cup. “This is my home. You are my guest, Seth. Here, drink this.” As Gabriel handed Seth the cup, he shot a surprised look to Malus. Of all the drinks that had been offered, he thought it strange that the youngest of the party should be offered a strong barley ale.

Seth took a sip, then recoiled, handing the cup back to Gabriel with an apologetic half-smile. “No thank you, sir. I prefer not to drink.”

Gabriel accepted it graciously, with a tilt of his head. “As you wish.” He stood and walked to the middle of the platform. Seth turned to watch, then gasped at seeing the other five guests seated similarly on their benches. Gabriel offered a reassuring smile to the boy, then addressed his guests.

“I would like to welcome you.” He swept his arms to the valley and all around. “This is Arcana, my home. I am your host. My name is Gabriel.” He gave a sly grin to Kohler. “The Gabriel.”