The Broken Window (16 page)

Prissie found it almost impossible to concentrate on the fun that usually came with opening presents. She kept checking
the clock and wondering if her angelic friends were okay. More than once as the day wore on, she found her way to one of the windows to peer out into the storm.

“Whoever prayed up a white Christmas had a heap of faith,” her grandfather gruffly announced. “But there’s nothing to worry about. We’ve weathered worse.”

With a sigh, Prissie offered Grandpa Pete a meager smile. “I know.”

“Then what’s troubling you?” pressed the old man. “Did you have your heart set on something that’s missing?”

Prissie blinked in surprise at how close he was to the truth, but she quickly assured, “I’m happy with my gifts, Grandpa. I guess I’m just … thinking about people who couldn’t be with us this morning.”

“Plenty of folk would have been welcome, but don’t lose sight of what’s right in front of you by hankering after what could have been.” With a significant nod, her grandfather drew her attention to Koji, who was listening with incredible patience as Zeke rambled through a convoluted explanation of the rules to the board game they’d be playing next. “That boy’s happiest when you’re smiling, and you’re being a mite stingy today.”

Ducking her head, Prissie replied, “I’ll do my best, Grandpa.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “That’s the way. Give your best, and leave the rest to the good Lord.”

Swords flashing, the three angels shot through the cave entrance, bowling over the few Fallen apparently left to keep watch. The demons squealed and scrabbled for cover,
spouting profanities at those whose rank in the heaven-lies they’d once shared. Chances were good that they’d be bringing reinforcements.

For several long moments, Jedrick, Tamaes, and Milo gazed around the large, central cavern from which Sunderland’s innumerable underground passages branched. Without the overhead lighting switched on, the open space was a formless void. While their own wings whispered softly in the stillness, the occasional sour note betrayed the lingering presence of those waiting for their chance.

“Which way?” whispered Milo.

Their captain hesitated, for his directive had only been to get them this far. With an almost apologetic smile, Tamaes stepped into the lead. “Follow me,” he announced quietly, pointing deeper down the main artery.

Suddenly, the earth began to shake, and the trio moved so they were back to back, weapons raised. The faint patter of stones echoed in the darkness, temporarily covering any sound of approaching feet, so caution was called for. “More tremors?” Milo muttered. “Abner’s not going to be happy.”

“True,” Jedrick agreed, tensing at the sudden crunch and scuff of footfalls from outside. A double line of cherubim strode into the cave, their wings and raiment bathing the vast chamber with a warm glow that was heaven-sent.

The incoming Flight’s captain stepped forward and solemnly declared, “Make the way clear, and it shall remain clear.”

“How many are coming?” Jedrick inquired, for warriors continued to sweep through the entrance, bearing swords, spears, and staffs.

With a flick of turquoise wings, the tall archer replied, “As many as it takes to light the way back.”

With a grateful heart, Jedrick turned to Tamaes and urged, “Lead on!”

Before they were properly underway, however, Milo skidded to a stop and bowed his head. “It seems that
this
is as far as I will go.”

Tamaes turned in surprise and searched his friend’s uncharacteristically solemn gaze, then drew a deep breath before nodding. “I will bring Ephron to you. Stand ready.”

Six cherubim flanked the lone Messenger, their weapons bristling in every direction as they closed ranks around him. Chuckling softly, Milo promised, “I’ll be right here.”

Ever downward, ever deeper—Tamaes led the charge, lancing far under the earth on a path that was clear to him, for he was Sent. Every few paces, one of the cherubim following would step to the side, standing guard over some offshoot of the tunnel or simply lending the light of his presence to a dark corner. The way back would be clear, but the way forward grew increasingly difficult.

“Are you certain all those who escaped were returned to their prison?” Tamaes murmured to the captain at his back.

“Quite sure,” Jedrick replied as he struggled to use his sword in the close confines of the tunnels. “Save one.”

“And these?”

“Future denizens of the Deep,” the Protector decreed, the light of battle blazing in his eyes. “Many will be driven before the light and cast into chains before night falls.”

“So be it,” acknowledged Tamaes, although the battle had yet to be won. Darkness lay before him, sinister and secretive, but he tucked flame-hued wings against his body and pressed forward, defying it to swallow him. Fear had no place in his heart, only concern for the young Observer who’d languished in these depths for too long.

Every step he took brought him closer to the one he felt responsible for losing, yet farther from the one he was responsible to protect. As strange as it felt to leave Prissie in Taweel’s watch-care, the voice of God compelled Tamaes. He obeyed, and gladly. Heavy boots beat against the stone floor, crunching on loose pebbles as he ducked and turned, twisting his body through the winding passages that often grew narrow for someone of his stature. All the while, a single refrain sang through his mind—
we are coming, we are coming, we are coming.

The instant Lavi returned, Ephron knew that the tiny angel had been helped, for he could feel the yahavim’s renewed vibrancy. “Did you find your way back to Abner?” With a pang of longing, he admitted, “I miss him … and the rest.”

Enthusiastic fluttering and a generous portion of manna accompanied a hummed melody that spoke to his heart of heaven and hope, and the encouragement was enough to break the prisoner’s heart. Without really meaning to, Ephron began to weep. Curling tightly around his faithful little friend, he poured out his sorrow with silently shaking shoulders and shuddering breaths. Lavi patted his cheeks and sang on, a gentle hum that reminded the captive that he wasn’t alone … and never had been.

Soon.
The knowledge caught him off guard, and the storm of his emotions stilled. Dabbing at wet cheeks, he cocked his head, listening closely as the promise was repeated.

“Soon,” he echoed wonderingly.

Ephron struggled onto his knees and reached up the sides of the pit. The cool stone was rough under his sensitive
fingertips, but he’d long since given up on finding a handhold. All the unforgiving wall did was steady him as he pushed shakily to his feet. Straining his ears, he listened intently, and Lavi lapsed into an expectant hush. For quite some time, the heavy silence pressed upon them, but then, in the distance, he caught the growl of voices. Friend or foe? He couldn’t tell.

Noises multiplied, and Ephron flinched at the sudden
clang
of metal striking metal. “Did you hear that?” he whispered to Lavi. The yahavim crawled under the collar of the Observer’s tattered raiment as the sound of footsteps entered the chamber above the pit. A rock was kicked aside. A blade rasped against its sheath. A pebble tumbled from overhead, plinking off his shoulder before rattling to the floor.

Although it hadn’t been thrown with the stinging force Murque liked to use, Ephron’s strength left him, and he slid weakly to his knees. Turning his head, he listened to the panting breaths of whoever was looking down at him, and he trembled.

“I found you,” came a voice that was deep and dear. “Ephron.”

“H-here,” he called back, though his voice was little more than a whisper. “I am here.”

“I am coming down,” Tamaes warned. “Stay against the wall.”

Ephron huddled as the air stirred musically through wings whose light he could no longer see. When his teammate’s feet connected solidly with the ground, a part of Ephron wanted to hide, but big hands were lifting him. Tamaes quietly announced, “Everyone is waiting. Shall we go?”

“Please,” he begged.

Without further ado, the Guardian gathered Ephron close, arranged his wings as best he could in the tight space, and leapt upwards.

The weakened angel gratefully rested his head against Tamaes’s shoulder as he strode away from the prison. It was a wonder to Ephron that the way out seemed so easy, for his teammate ran steadily, never hesitating along the convoluted route. Both of Tamaes’s hands cradled him close, meaning the big warrior didn’t even require his sword.

He was startled by a soft greeting; another soon followed. Ephron whispered, “Who is here?”

“Many,” replied Tamaes.

Others called his name, welcoming him back, and the narrow tunnel echoed with an uneven patter as their footfalls multiplied. “So many?” he asked as the unseen warriors fell in step behind.

There was a smile in his teammate’s voice as he declared, “The hosts of heaven shine like stars underground. I wish you could see.”

Touching the makeshift bandages covering his eyes, Ephron murmured, “Tell me?”

Tamaes kept his voice low as he shared the names, colors, and Flight placements of the cherubim who washed their route in light, protecting them from behind, leading them home.

Time passed slowly, the way grew steep in places, and eventually, the tunnel widened. “Are we close?” Ephron asked.

“We are,” Tamaes acknowledged, slowing to a stop in order to listen. The roar of battle reached back to them, warning them that they would have to fight for their freedom. Ephron curled more tightly against his rescuer, whose grasp tightened reassuringly.

“Let us pass,” urged the Protector just behind Tamaes’s shoulder.

Tucking Ephron into the folds of his wings, the Guardian pressed himself against the wall, allowing the flood of cherubim to precede them into the main cavern. Tamaes followed more slowly and spoke in soothing tones. “Milo is waiting for us,” he shared.

“Oh,” Ephron breathed wistfully. “I am glad.”

“And Jedrick,” the Guardian added, adjusting his grip so he could draw his sword. “Naturally.”

“Yes, of course.”

Tamaes stopped walking, and Ephron shrank against him, unnerved by the noise. The Guardian hummed soothingly, then confidently said, “Your safe return is assured. Fear not.”

“I will trust.”

“Good,” the big warrior replied before plunging into the melee.

Milo gratefully clasped Jedrick’s arm when the Protector returned to his side. Without preamble, the Flight captain said, “I am moving you to the entrance.”

“Now?” The Messenger allowed himself to be herded along the wall toward the mouth of the cave, but he peered back over his shoulder. “Aren’t they coming?”

“They are,” Jedrick confirmed. “Tamaes will bring Ephron to you.”

“Is he all right?”

“Ephron is terribly faded,” the Protector solemnly replied. “You will need to carry him.”

“Not you?” Milo countered in honest surprise.

“You are the swiftest in our Flight. I will prevent any from following you.”

“
We
,” interjected one of the half dozen cherubim who’d been protecting the Messenger.

“We,” Jedrick amended, nodded his acknowledgment to the angels who moved with them. To Milo, he said, “You will have a head start. Use it.”

The Messenger’s wings shifted restlessly, then rose defensively as a volley of stones was flung their way. “I can’t think of another delivery I’d rather make today,” he assured. “I’ll be ready.”

After a brief skirmish, they gained the entrance, putting them back within reach of the blizzard. The short winter day was ending, so the sting of driven snow hurled into them out of the darkness. Jedrick crossed blades with a screeching demon whose tattered wings dragged uselessly upon the ground, while another of the cherubim squared off with a squat demon with a glittering dagger. “Make ready!” the Captain shouted.

Milo wheeled in time to see Tamaes launch out of the inner recesses of the cavern, his orange wings tucked close around his precious cargo. Immediately, the Messenger let slide the restraints that became second nature to Grafts. Holding nothing back, his face shone like lightning, filling every nook and cranny of the passage with a radiance borne of heaven. Those Fallen who were nearest cried out and stumbled backward, but Tamaes’s urgent gaze zeroed in on Milo. Seizing the opportunity his teammate’s short burst created, the Protector flung his wings wide and charged right over the top of the mingled ranks. A few
weapons stabbed blindly upward, but other angels intervened, knocking aside their blows.

Stumbling to his knees before the Messenger, Tamaes sucked in his breath, then gently shook his passenger. “Ephron, we are here. You need to go with Milo now.”

“Milo?”

“Right here,” answered the Messenger, catching hold of the Observer’s hand. “Upsy-daisy!” The transfer was clumsy, but Ephron soon had his arms wrapped tightly around Milo’s neck. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he stretched wide his blue wings. “It’s been a while since I had a passenger,” he confessed. “Bear with me?”

Jedrick’s voice cut him off. “Fly to Abner!”

Taking a deep breath, Milo prepared to hurl himself into the storm, but to his amazement, the winds stilled and the sky opened up, giving him a clear view of the sky overhead.

“What happened?” Ephron asked, turning his head this way and that.

“
Abner
happened,” Milo replied with a grin. “Thanks be to God for His mercy …” The Messenger trailed off with a stunned, “Have mercy!”

The Observer’s hold tightened so that he was practically throttling his friend. “What do you see?” he asked tensely.

“Abner,” Milo replied distractedly.

“Go!” growled Jedrick, giving the startled Messenger’s shoulder a shove.

Milo obediently took flight, and one after another, the six cherubim Sent to watch over him followed suit. Jedrick also soared skyward, then turned to check for pursuers, wings widespread as he surveyed the scene just below. He gestured broadly for Prissie’s Guardian to follow, but his expression
quickly shifted into one of dismay. “Tamaes!” Jedrick urgently called. “Behind you!
Fly
!”