Angel Fall (34 page)

“They’re the Guardians, the Gift of Heaven to every child who was ever born. Their work was to watch over and love them. But since the race of men chose Darkness, the power of Lammortan held them back. Through all of time, they watched in agony as their children were given away to die. For age upon age they have longed for the Awakening. And now it has come.”

“Do I have a Guardian?” Tori was staring in wistful awe.

“Indeed, you do.”

Suddenly she saw a beautiful being running up from the valley toward her.

“Is that her? Is that mine?”

“Indeed, it isn’t.”

Then she heard a voice calling her name, “Tori! Tori!”

The being was Amanda! It was her sister, and she was shining. Her whole body was full of light. Never had she looked so lovely. Then they were together, hugging and crying. Through her tears Tori whispered, “You’re alive. You were dead, but now you’re alive. Are you an angel?”

Amanda laughed and wiped her eyes, “Of course not. People don’t become angels. Those are the angels down there.”

“But why do you look like this? Why are you shining?”

Amanda smiled, “Oh, Tori, there’s so much to tell you. But right now, it’s time to take the baby home. Come on, we get to do it together.”

Together they began walking down into the valley. When they drew near, all the Shining Ones stopped dancing and turned toward them, opening a path. For the first time Tori really did feel like a queen. As they made their way, the Guardians and the children followed. But Tori didn’t see them. She was looking up. As she stared, she gulped. The Mountain was so high that it seemed to go on forever.

“Do we…have to
climb it
?”

“No, all of our climbing is finished.”

The moment they touched the foot of the vast slope, a soft mist enveloped them and they heard a new kind of singing. Not one voice. Not ten thousand voices. It was as though every star in the universe had a voice. The high, the soft, the sweet, the piercing, the rumbling…it was like a
mighty wind of music
, and the girls felt it blowing straight through every cell of their bodies filling them with a wonderful, terrifying
Lightness
. Holding the baby between them, they began to rise. Tori yelled, “
Amanda, we’re flying!
”

Higher…faster…the Wind of the Singing Voices drew them upward. The girls looked down and Tori whispered,
“Oh, it’s so beautiful…”

All the Shining Ones and all the children were rising too, flowing like a river of starlight up the side of the Mountain. And below lay a world…forests and rivers, peaks and plains, oceans sparkling in the sun. Higher and higher they went, until the rim of the world was a glowing arc in the starry blackness. And still the Singing Wind carried them on. But now it was singing like a hurricane. Another moment and everything below paled into a distant memory. Swirling down toward them were waves of Blood-red Splendor, the Mist of the Mountain’s Crown. Then they were in it! Blinded in a Cloud of Piercing Joy! The Voices rose in a great crescendo. The mist parted and their feet came to rest at the top.

Staggering…

Shattering…

Glory!

Before them lay a crystal ocean bluer than the bluest sky, an ocean without a wave or ripple. Beneath the surface blazed a Living Fire whiter than the purest snow. Around the ocean stood a Host of Beings that stretched into the endless reaches of eternity. Many looked like people. Others were like creatures out of a dream. Some were small, some were gigantic, but all burned with
Splendor
as though their hearts were made of Singing Flames. It was their voices that had called them upward. As wonderful as they were, the girls barely saw them…for above the ocean, above the Singing Host, soared a Crimson Throne.

Worshiping and weeping!

Weeping in the Endless Joy!

How long they lay like that, they didn’t know. But suddenly a gentle hand caressed Amanda’s hair. She looked up. Kneeling beside her was a tall, lovely woman with eyes so blue they seemed to burn. Amanda cried out, “Bellwind!” And Bellwind took her in her arms. Tears and more tears. The Great Worwil could hardly speak for crying, “Little Brave One…welcome home!”

Then Tori felt a tickling beside her ear and yelled, “Mirick!” There was a rush of power, and next to her stood her friend in all his glorious strangeness. “Yes, little Queen of the Children, didn’t I tell you that, if you were faithful, we would stand together before the Crimson Throne?” Sobbing, Tori hugged him and his wings swept around her. “My Courageous Little Queen, how proud I am of you,” he whispered.

Finally Bellwind said, “Now, my girls…now, yes, now…bring the baby and come.”

Holding the little boy between them, Amanda and Tori were led out over the crystal ocean, over the pure white flames.

And as they walked, everything vanished but the Shining One. On and on they walked toward Him, until finally they could walk no more. The Glory was too great. They fell to their knees. Then the Splendor parted and they saw His Face. Never had they seen such a Face. So much anguish and so much love. Quietly He spoke words that Amanda and Tori remembered forever.

“My little children, my strong and faithful ones…
well done
.”

All the kingdoms on all the worlds, all their riches and all their grandeur could not compare to this. His words descended upon them like shining crowns and no sovereign on any world had ever known such glory. Then He stepped down. Yes, stepped down from His Throne…and bent down. Gently He lifted Amanda and Tori to their feet and took them in His Arms. And all their weakness vanished.

Love beyond imagining!

Soaring…

Singing…

Blazing Love…

His Heart…they felt it!

His Heart…they entered it!

And in His Heart they were One.

In the Oneness their lives were spread before them, every second that they had ever lived. And in them all was the Burning Shadow of His Presence.

For Amanda, He was the Man in the Robe who had held her with such gentleness in her greatest sorrow, giving her strength to face the terror locked within her soul. He was the One who had flown above her like an eagle easing her pain with drops of His Blood. When she had been offered life that would last forever, He was the One who had given her strength to choose death instead. And when her body had burned with fever, in the last moments when life was slipping away, He was the One who had stilled her anguish and rocked her to sleep in His Arms like a Father holding the little daughter that He loved.

Yes, He was the One.

For Tori He was the One who had never left her, even when she had drifted in the Darkness of a Night Without Stars. He was the One who had sent Mirick to guide her and had shown His Love through the baby’s eyes. He was the One who had given her strength to climb the steps of the dreadful mountain and walk with her head held high through the terrifying doors. When she had entered the softly painted vision, the laughing, happy nightmare of her most cherished dream, He was the One who had shown her the truth and given her the courage to destroy the lie. And when she had faced the rage of the Painter, He was the One who had turned her heart into a Blazing Flame so great it could look at Death and not be afraid.

Yes, He was the One…

And He was the King!

But not a King like the kings of earth, the rock stars and film stars and sports stars, who live pampered and perfumed and draped with baubles. No, not a king like that. In the Face of this King was a strange and terrible Glory, and that Glory was in His scars. So many! So deep! Scars upon scars! Scars within scars! The girls knew why they were there because now they knew His heart. Every wound given to the smallest and least of His children had been a burning wound within His body. Amanda’s wounds, Tori’s wounds, Alex’s wounds, all the wounds of every child on every world, the knives that had slashed them, the fires that had scorched them, every touch, every word that had broken their souls, all had scarred Him forever. And the worst of the wounds were still bleeding, for they were the wounds from the Pit of Blood.

Laughing, He opened His hands. Instantly the girls knew what to do. Together they gave the little boy to Him, the baby they had loved and carried so far. And from the Host of Heaven there rose a mighty shout of victory! But then the King raised His Hand and there was silence.

“You have brought a precious gift, a gift that cost you everything. And now I have a gift for you.”

He turned and from beneath the Throne stepped their brother. Oh, the tears of that moment! All they could do was hug and cry. Bending over them, the King whispered, “
Little daughters of Earth, you are mighty warriors, and your brother will be a mighty warrior too. But now, dry your eyes. It’s not a time for weeping
.” With the baby in His arms He rose and cried out a single word in a language that only He could understand.

A Word that shook the Heavens!

A Word that streamed with Fire!

A Word that became a Living Song!

In tears Bellwind whispered, “Mountaincry…oh, finally, yes, finally it has come.”

T
he brilliance parted.

Alex, Amanda, and Tori found themselves standing on the edge of a gigantic precipice. Below lay the slowly moving circle of a sleeping world. Down…down…the Singing Cry swept toward it, like a shaft flung out of Heaven. And from deep within the planet came a pounding, rumbling Roar.

Louder and louder, the Thunder-beat of a heart awakening, the music of a mighty organ built to answer the Singing Voice of God, loosening the crust of continents, shaking the shroud of oceans, preparing the flesh of a world to be reborn.

And then the Cry struck it…

Driving deep…

Exploding outward in a wave of Singing Flame.

And the face of the world defiled by the Painter began to scorch and peel away.

On and on roared the Fire, over the clawed-out craters of ages, the fields, the ditches, the bone-troughs of war; on and on…over the scabs of long-dead cities, over the blood-drenched temples with their altar-mouths that had sucked the slain.

On and on…over the howling deserts, the shadow valleys, the dried-up rivers that had flowed with tears.

On and on, swirling, scorching, searing, swept the Singing Cry of God.

Suddenly it came upon a forest, endless miles of dead white trees. In a rush of joy it whispered through them, caressing every branch and limb and twig. And beneath the Singing Touch, the mask of death began to fade. No longer gnarled and twisted, pale and withered, across the mountains and the plains stood a forest of living people, and the King knew them all by name. They were the Faithful Ones who had refused to sacrifice their children, so with their children they had died, murdered by the plague of Melania, the fallen Healer, the Tree of Horror in the Sky. Now they stood with arms uplifted and began to sing the Song of Songs. Many were old and many were young, but all were children, for childhood is the ageless life of the heart that has learned the Song of the Blood.

But the Cry didn’t stop in the forests. On and on it burned, through desolate tracts and deserts until it came upon a sea of graves. There it hovered with a Fiery Passion. Then into the ground it flew, down to bones asleep in corruption, down to the dust of memories that were deeply loved. For these were the graves of the fathers and mothers who
had
sacrificed their children, but then, with cries of anguish and broken hearts, had realized what they had done. In endless tears and prayers and sorrow, they had repented. These Lammortan had slaughtered, but now the Cry of the King found each one and drew them out to join their lost children in the singing of the Song.

When every child, both old and young, had been awakened and all were gathered from around the world, out of a Chamber deep within the planet rose the righteous rulers of Boreth, dancing, laughing, singing, for Mountaincry had finally come. Then the Host below streamed upward to meet the singing Host above, and never had there been such a hurricane of dancing, shouting, laughing, not since the world was born.

As it spun and swirled around Him, the King cried out, “S
ANDALBAN
…G
REAT
T
HUNDERER
…
IT IS TIME
!”

There was the crash of mighty hooves. Suddenly, beside Alex, Amanda, and Tori, appeared a creature that looked like a gigantic stallion, but his body rippled with lightning. In a rumbling voice he boomed, “Well, children, are you ready for a ride? If so, climb on.”

As terrifying as he looked, they weren’t afraid. Bellwind and Mirick helped them onto his back. Then he rose in the air and leaped over the cliff. A hundred thousand feet straight down he streaked, then swooped outward in a blinding flash.

Soaring!

And the air around them burned with the Singing Cry.

Below, newborn mountains heaved and rippled. And down toward them they flew. Into valley rifts with roaring rivers, through misty forests laced with streams, above wild gardens with rainbows painted in their leaves, over a waterfall that crashed into a chasm. On and on…sweeping out over a broad, flat plain.

Suddenly beneath them was a surging sea of animals. Herds and gaggles, packs and flocks, prides and droves, rushing, leaping, racing together unafraid. Never had there been such a choir of squeals and grunts and roars and bellows, and every voice was filled with joy. Above them swirled a typhoon of wings and feathers, calling, crying, blending with the Song of Songs, for the Curse of men and angels had been broken and all the fear was gone.

On flew the Worwil, leaving the land, streaking low above crystal waves, splashing the children with tingling spray. And from the depths they heard a mighty chanting. The great creatures of the ocean, with their retinues of fins and scales, rose to meet them, singing, rolling, crashing, for even into the heart of the oceans the Song of the King had come.

How long they flew, they didn’t know and never could remember. Time lost all meaning as they watched a world reborn. But finally Sandalban began descending into a forest of moss-covered trees and gently came to rest at the edge of a clearing. In it stood a circle of seven ancient thrones. On four of them sat the remaining Worwil of Boreth—Bellwind the Watcher, Rindzac the Caller, Faylin the Weaver, and Mirick the Singer of the Song. When the children had climbed down, Sandalban the Thunderer took his place among them. On the center throne sat a little boy of five years old. He looked familiar. Laughing, he waved. Bellwind and Mirick stepped down and joined them.

Tori stared, “Is that…?”

Mirick nodded, “Yes, that’s Aloi.”

“But how did he grow so fast? He was just a baby.” Amanda couldn’t believe it.

Bellwind replied, “His world…yes, our world…is alive again. It’s growing and growing, and it will never stop. And He will grow with it, for the throne of the Dark One, whose name I am forgetting, is now the Throne of Aloi.”

Filled with wonder, Amanda and Tori walked over to Him. Jumping down, He hugged them.

But Alex wasn’t looking at the child. He was staring up at the most beautiful young woman that he had ever seen. Around her, like a woven halo, drifted a glistening web. Slowly he walked over and stood before her. He tried to speak, but tears drowned out the words. Stepping down from her throne, Faylin took his hands. Then, bending down, she kissed them. And no words were ever needed.

Softly Bellwind spoke, “So indeed, yes and so, young Lancasters, this is where your journey through our world will end.”

They turned and stared at her. “What do you mean? What happens now?” Suddenly Alex was afraid.

“Well, and what always happens when a journey is finished? The travelers, do they not go back home?”

Tori’s eyes grew wide. “You mean…home…like…back-to-Earth home?”

“The last time I checked, that was the place where you were born, my dear.”

“But…we want to stay on this world. We love it here with you.”

Alex was desperate. “Please don’t make us go back. It’s awful on Earth.”

Mirick turned his burning eyes toward him. “Yes, awful it is. But not forever. There is a Mountaincry for every world, and soon it will come to yours. But before that time there will be great hardship. And in that time there will be a war.”

“A war? I don’t want to be in a war.” Tori stared at him in horror.

“Little queen, it is the end of the war that you were fighting here. The evil in the universe is like a hive of wasps and every one of them must be destroyed.”

Bellwind nodded. “The ugliness, the bubbling, stinking nastiness won’t be gone until your world is washed clean like ours.”

“But why do we need to be there?” Alex was feeling ill.

Mirick replied, “There are many on your world who are chained to Evil. You know the ways of the Dark Ones. For some, you will be their only hope.”

Tori began to cry. “I don’t want to go back. I’ll miss you too much.”

Gently Mirick knelt and hugged her. Once more she was surrounded by the soft warmth of his wings. “I have brought a gift. Would you like to see it?”

Wiping away the tears, she nodded. Instantly she felt something around her neck. On a delicate chain hung a little golden moth. “Oh, it’s so beautiful. I’ll wear it always and every time I look at it, I’ll think of you.”

“It’s a gift to bring you comfort in times of need. And remember this, no matter what happens, the mark of the King is upon you, and no child of His will ever be alone.”

“What about Alex and Amanda? Are there gifts for them?”

“Your brother will wear his gift as long as he lives.”

“What is it?”

Slowly he lifted his arm. “It’s my scar.”

Bellwind smiled. “The scars, yes, the scars from wounds of the King, are the greatest gifts of all. And yours runs deep and strong.”

“What about Amanda? What’s her gift?” But before Tori’s question could be answered, they heard a honking wheeze. They turned and stared. Clunking and bumping out of the forest was an ancient, rust-red limousine. Creaking to a stop, the door opened and out stepped a gangling old man in a ragged uniform. Tori yelled, “Mr. Hydrogen!” Then she ran and hugged him.

“Well, well, well, I see I got to the right place again. If it was wrong I sure wouldn’t get such a great big hug, now would I? Looks to me like you young folks are about finished with your vacation.”

“Our what?” Alex choked.

“And now that all the fun’s over, it’s time to get home again, is that it?”

“Are we going to ride in old Malleus?” For Tori the thought softened the sorrow of leaving.

“You sure are.”

As Alex looked at the ancient chauffeur, all he could think about was their first meeting. In shame he turned his eyes to the ground.

Smiling, the old man walked over and put his arm around him. “Ain’t nothin’ to worry about, Son. You turned out just fine, just like I told your mom you would. All right, all aboard who’s goin’ aboard. We gotta get. There’s a nice wind startin’ to blow an’ we’re gonna jump on its tail.” Moving to the limousine, he opened the passenger door.

Tori hugged Mirick one last time, then she and Alex started for the car. They were climbing inside when Tori realized that Amanda hadn’t moved. “Come on. If we’ve gotta go back, we might as well get it over with. And I really do want to see Mom.”

But there were tears in Amanda’s eyes. Quietly she said, “I’m not going with you.”

Alex stared at her. “What are you talking about? If we’ve gotta go back, so do you. Come on!” But as he said the words, he felt a touch of fear.

“I can’t.”

Tori rushed over to her. “Of course you can. We’re not leaving without you.”

“Look at me, Tori. Do I look the same as I did before?” She was so beautiful and light was still streaming from within her. “Up on that mountain my body really did die. The one I have now is made for this world. It can’t live on Earth until Earth is changed.”

“No, that isn’t true.” Tears were in Alex’s eyes and there was no holding them in. “You’re coming with us. We’re not going anywhere without you.”

Tori was sobbing. “If you don’t go back, what do we tell Mom and Dad?”

“Tell them I love them. Tell them about the Great King. Tell them I want to see them when Mountaincry comes to Earth and all the worlds are one.”

What followed were a lot of tears, a lot of hugging, and a lot of forgiving. But finally the old chauffeur put his arms around Alex and Tori and drew them away. Before they got into the car, they saw an amazing sight: Bellwind led Amanda to the last empty throne. Quietly she said, “My daughter, though you are not a Worwil, it is the desire of the King that this throne that once belonged to Melania be yours forever. And with it her gift of healing. She believed the lie of Lammortan, that when he ruled the world, she would be crowned the Queen of Heaven. Under the power of his Darkness, she became drunk with blood. You will not be tempted to such evil. Sit down, Daughter of the Mountain, and take your place in a new world.” Slowly Amanda sat down and around her swirled streams of Crimson Glory.

As the limousine rose in the air, the last thing Tori and Alex saw through the window was Amanda waving and blowing kisses. Then suddenly the circle of thrones was filled with Shining Brilliance, and in the center stood the King. Smiling, He lifted His hands toward them.

Then the Brilliance faded and they entered a darkness filled with stars.