Dreamwander Read online

  Gabriel was darker than Michael, looked Mediterranean—olive skin, long gray hair, and a goatee as dark as night. Raphael’s complexion darker still, though his hair was as white as a bleached sheet. Darkest among the assembled was Raguel, with skin black as coal. The wild hair of Uriel shone red as a wildfire, skin gleamed pale as porcelain. Brown the hair of Ramiel, as was his skin. Sariel was gray-haired with skin lightly tanned. As all were seated, and most had yet to speak, he could glean little else.

  “So you’re telling me that while I was dreaming my soul entered another reality?” Cillian asked when he was finally ready to engage them again, absurd as it all seemed.

  “Yes,” Michael said.

  “And somewhere I’m still an old man?”

  “Yes.”

  “With dementia?”

  “You are not a butterfly dreaming you are a human, if that is the angle in your questions.”

  “How could my soul enter another reality?”

  “Do you remember your visit to the doctor’s office?” Raphael asked.

  “Dr. Lewis? Yes.”

  “You were already dreaming when you visited the doctor. He sent you to Símhin, a real world far away from Earth.”

  “Why?”

  “He wanted you to release Loki.”

  “Dr. Lewis may have been one of the other gods in disguise,” Michael said.

  “The other gods? There are other gods?”

  “Yahweh is not the only god,” Gabriel began. “Many ages ago the gods decided to use their powers to each create their own universe. Yahweh created this universe, and everything within it, including humans and angels. Unknown to the other gods, Loki created secret pathways between the universes that only he knew of. Which is why it will be so difficult to capture him again. Even the first time, he allowed himself to be captured.

  “It was Loki that corrupted Satan, the greatest of our kind—noblest, wisest, and vested with the most authority. Each of the archangels was given charge of a certain area, and Earth fell within Satan’s jurisdiction. At that time, before the wars that tore our kind apart, there were many more archangels. Each supervised many angels, and it was their responsibility to oversee Yahweh’s creations and intermediate on His behalf. In the early ages of this universe, Satan was content with his position, or so he appeared.

  “Perhaps Loki picked Satan because he was the greatest, or perhaps Satan only pretended to be content. Whatever the reason, Loki visited Satan in secret, his beguiling tongue whispering revolt. How long and often he clutched Satan’s ear we do not know, but too late we learned of Loki’s treachery. Had we known his success, we could have ended Satan’s ambition then, but he feigned disgust with Loki, so we assumed Satan had resisted Loki’s artifice. We erred in that belief. The poisonous seed had already been planted.

  “Satan gathered all his host, descended to Earth, and set up habitation among your race. No longer was he content to serve as guardian for Earth and its inhabitants. He wanted to be a lord with his own subjects, in imitation of Yahweh, but as often is the case with imitation, an ape the ape makes.

  “The angels walked openly among the inhabitants of Earth in older ages. Interactions between angels and humans were quite rare, though our existence was known among the early human cultures of your planet. Some tried to worship us, but we explained that we were servants to a greater power. With Satan’s descent, the desire to avoid worship was swept aside. Satan wanted humans to think he was a god, and to them he was. He bestowed great knowledge upon mankind, giving rise to the first civilizations.

  “In the beginning of his reign on Earth, Satan seemed to hold no hostility toward humans, and seemed genuinely interested in their well-being. Maybe as has often been the case with his intentions, it was all a ruse, his benevolence intended to advance humans so they could become slaves worth enslaving. Or maybe Loki intervened again. Satan’s desire for domination is strange to us.

  “Satan was not the only archangel to establish a habitation on Earth. Lú suspected Satan’s true intentions first, and to better observe his actions, he too descended to Earth. Once he had seen enough to confirm his suspicions, he gathered his own followers and founded a realm to counter Satan’s. Though Satan insisted he desired only to enlighten humans, hostilities with Lú were frequent, pushing them closer and closer to open war, an event with no prior occurrence among our kind.

  “As Loki had done before, Satan now used his own unrivalled powers of persuasion to corrupt his disciples. Once his stronghold was secure from mutiny, Satan secretely prepared for war against the other angels. Lú learned of his plans too late, and though he tried to warn the others, we were all taken by surprise by the suddenness of Satan’s attack. He quickly forced Lú to retreat and subdued many of the human kingdoms, giving Satan control of most of the Earth. Not content with surrender, he enslaved humans and used them to toil in the mines for precious metals, plant and reap the harvests, man his factories, and serve the angels in any manner they desired.

  “The First War of the Angels occurred so unexpectedly it was over before most of the angelic host were aware of Satan’s true intentions. A council was hastily arranged to plan a response. Seeing the multitude of the assembled host, Satan wavered in his resolve, and shrank back from another assault against Lú’s positions. Had he pressed the attack, he might have destroyed all his opposition on Earth right then. Instead, his vacillation allowed Lú and Michael enough time to join forces. Together they routed Satan, though they could not overcome his defenses, forcing a stalemate.

  “Afterward, a long peace between the two factions ensued, during which the greater part of mankind was enslaved. Satan’s lust for power only increased, and since he was incapable of controlling all of Earth, he set his sights higher, commanding humans to build great fleets of ships to traverse the heavens so he could transport them to distant worlds, where they could exploit those resources, too.

  “When the first war ended in stalemate, Michael departed, leaving Lú’s forces to defend themselves. Lú’s refusal to forsake humans split the angelic host into three factions, a division remaining today. Satan’s forces desired dominion over Yahweh’s creations, Lú’s forces wished to live among them in peace, and Michael’s forces desired to neither dwell on Earth nor among humans. Though Lú and Satan had agreed to a truce, both sides prepared for another war behind their defenses.

  “The second war occurred as quickly as the first, though this time the resistance was prepared. Despite early victories, Satan’s forces were incapable of securing victory. The war raged for nine years, ravaging the land and killing most of the humans. Michael returned with his own forces, but was routed, the resistance finally and utterly broken, and Satan took control over Earth.

  “Swift was his crush of all dissent. He brutally secured his lordship and severed the ties between humans and those angels led by Michael, who still considered their role to be guardians. Lú and what angels he could gather escaped, vowing to return.

  “Satan’s victories were not confined to Earth’s blue sphere, but spread across the universe. He attacked Michael and Lú’s forces everywhere he sensed weakness. When Satan’s relentless expansion was finally halted, he controlled most of the universe, leaving Michael and Lú’s diminished forces to defend what few positions they still controlled. Though the angels under Satan’s sway outnumbered those of Michael and Lú by three to one, many refused to join Satan’s cause, and some even tried to subvert his sovereignty. Not all had fallen spell to his persuasion. But they were too few.

  “In his conquest of humans—and the greater part of the angels—Satan became arrogant and regarded his own power to be equal or even superior to Yahweh. He conceived a plan to assault Olympus itself, the capitol of the gods, believing their refusal to stop his expansion a sign of their fear. Discovering his scheme, Michael and Lú abandoned their positions and retreated to Olympus in preparation for the final battle. Thus began the Third War of the Angels.

  “Though they had not jo
ined the fray, the gods were aware of everything happening in this universe. When Satan commenced his attack on Olympus, they were waiting. Upon seeing Yahweh, more of Satan’s followers switched allegiance, and some, only pretending fealty, revolted. The battle was the greatest of the three wars, but the gods proved victorious. Satan was bound and brought before the thrones of Olympus, where his fate was debated among all the gods, though the final decision was Yahweh’s alone to determine, as Satan was his creation. All the angelic host were present for the verdict.

  “Yahweh spoke, ‘All of you were entrusted with the guardianship of my universe. Many of you chose to dwell among the humans, while others chose to remain apart. For you, Satan, dwelling among the humans was never your true goal. You desired only dominion. If a throne is what you desire, a throne you shall be given. Satan, I pronounce you Lord of Darkness. Your throne will rest upon the twin pillars of torment and isolation, and your subjects shall be all those who joined in your failed revolt.

  “As to Lú and his followers, since you are desirous of dwelling among my other creations, you are hereby presented a choice. You may remain in your current form, separate from the other creations, or you may choose to dwell among them, but with this caveat—at any time you choose to reveal yourselves to them, you will become mortal and capable of dying. You will also be bound by the same physical limitations as they are. You will breathe air, need water and food, and no longer be able to travel freely through the void of space. Consider your decision wisely. My decree is final. Take Satan and his followers away.’

  “Thus were the three divisions of the angels preserved. We, members of the High Angels, chose to carry out our original purpose, the Lost Angels chose to dwell among the humans, subject to the Doom of Lú, and The Fallen angels were cast into the prison of Hell. We seven are the last of the archangels.”

  “And Michael is your leader?”

  “No,” Michael said. “We are all equal here. Only Yahweh commands the archangels.”

  “Not long after the first war between the angels,” Gabriel resumed, “Loki disappeared. By then the other gods already suspected his role in Satan’s downfall. Nor was Yahweh the only god who found His subjects in revolt. They searched for him, but he was clever in his creation of hidden pathways and worlds. Though he did return to this universe long enough to corrupt Adam and Eve.”

  “In the guise of a snake?” Cillian asked. He hoped for an answer in the affirmative. Then he would know he was dreaming.

  “Not exactly, but that is a story for another time.”

  “How did they find him?”

  “They did not find him. He came to them and surrendered voluntarily.”

  “Why?”

  “At the time we thought it was because he knew he would eventually be captured. Now we think his capture might have been a ruse, though we know not what for. After his capitulation, Loki was bound and cast into a special prison created by the gods.”

  “Now he’s free again,” Cillian said, “and you’re saying it’s my fault. All I did was open a book that transported me to his cave. How did Sindri have a portal to Loki’s prison? And why did it have my name on it?”

  “We do not know,” Rafael said. “Someone assisted Loki in his escape.”

  “Have you asked Sindri?”

  “Sindri is dead,” Uriel said.

  Cillian straightened. “What?” This was alarming news. “How?”

  “He was killed. We don’t know by whom.”

  “Don’t worry about Sindri,” Raphael said. “He paid an unfortunate price for his allegiance. Your name on the book is important. Your fate was not accidentally united with Loki’s. You were intended to release him.”

  “But why me? Why was I chosen?”

  “Only Loki knows,” Michael said. “But since you were chosen, we think he will contact you again. We need you to find out what he intends to do. That is our best opportunity to catch him.”

  “You want me to be your spy?”

  “Precisely.”

  Cillian started laughing. “This is absurd. This can’t be happening. I’m going to close my eyes and when I open them, I’ll be awake and you’ll be gone.” He counted to ten and opened his eyes. The angels were still staring him with their damned expressionless faces. “Son of a bitch.”

  “You are here because we brought you here,” Michael said. “This is not a dream.”

  A war is coming,” Raguel warned. “Your disbelief will not delay it.”

  “What kind of war?” Cillian asked in alarm. “Between the gods?”

  “It’s too soon,” Michael said to Raguel.

  “He needs to know,” Raguel countered.

  “He does. But not yet.”

  Cillian sensed a schism among the archangels, but the matter was dropped. So he tried a different tact. “Prove this is real.”

  “We cannot,” Raphael said. “You either accept this reality or you do not. If you choose to disbelieve, there is nothing we can do to prove this is real. You will keep insisting it is only a dream, no matter what proof we offer you.”

  “Might not hurt to try,” Gabriel said. “He might be persuaded by the proper experience.”

  “And what might that be?” Michael asked.

  “We send him home.”

  II

  -------

  5

  Blinding white light forced Cillian’s eyes shut. When he opened them again he was surrounded by waist-high wheat swaying in a light breeze, the heavy yellow heads wobbling unsteadily. The sun sailed high in a clear pale sky, so bright he had to squint against the glare. Little white lights, like stars, swirled in his vision. Where was he now? The thought vanished as soon as he glanced down at his body. He was shirtless, his skin dark from summer rays. He was only a child. Ten years old maybe. He wasn’t quite sure. The wind felt cool and sunlight danced upon his skin. He spun a slow circle, bathing in the gold of sun and wheat.

  He started to giggle, and though he felt foolish, he couldn’t cease. When was the last time he had been overwhelmed by such giddiness? Long before all this nonsense with the angels had started, before Evelyn had fallen ill, before the doctor had given him his own grim prognosis. He had probably been a child.

  Somewhere along the way to adulthood the burdens of his responsibilities had stolen some of that zeal. Maybe it was the war. Things had never been quite the same afterward. A sobering realization of something lost. He pressed such thoughts away, lifted his arms into the air, spread them to the sides, and spun circles until he fell over from dizziness and lay in the wheat, the world spinning all around him. He started giggling again and only quit when his stomach hurt too much. He sat up. In a seated position, the wheat was taller than him, and he couldn’t see far through the bushy heads of gold.

  He raised a fat, short foot into the air and wiggled the little sausage-like toes. He rubbed his feet together and giggled some more. His hands were also short and fat, with little creases that someday would be deeply etched. How the years had ruined his body. Somewhere beyond all this, he was trapped in his real body. Those toes and hands were long and thin, the skin hanging loose as if a tailor had cut too much fabric to cover his skeleton.

  Another sobering thought to sap a little more of his joy. He quit laughing. He was worn out from giggling at nothing anyway. High above, an eagle soared on a current of air. He guessed it was a golden eagle, though it could be a bald eagle. He had seen a few bald eagles perched in the cottonwoods along the river. The golden eagles were more common, so the bird was likely one of them. He rose to get a better view and felt a little like a gopher popping up in the grass. A faded memory surfaced of Corbin once telling him he looked like a gopher when he played out in the wheat. Christian had frowned and told him to stop acting like a child and stay out of the field. That had been long ago. So, so long ago. Every day since he had thought of Corbin. How he missed his older brother.

  The little white house and red barn that was their homestead was near, no more than a hundred
yards away. He saw no movement there. The farmstead sat in a deep valley in the heart of North Dakota’s badlands. Tall cottonwoods lined the meanderings of the Little Missouri River less than a quarter mile away. The old farmstead had been torn down decades ago. The thought was strange to him. He was looking at something that hadn’t existed in close to thirty years. His younger brother, Otto, had taken over the farm and built a new house, three times as large as the one it replaced, that Otto’s son now owned. By then the barn was already dilapidated and falling down and hadn’t been used for Cillian could no longer remember how long.

  He walked to the farmyard, drawn by an irresistible urge to return home, a place he had been trying to return to since the war. So many cold, fearful, sleepless nights had been spent wondering if he would ever see this place again, his parents, three siblings, or Evelyn. When at last he did return, it wasn’t the same place as he had departed because he was no longer the same man. One version had left the ranch. Another had returned. Nothing was ever the same again.

  He stopped at the entrance of the open barn doors and let his eyes soak in the sight. He had forgotten so many of the details that to see it again now was strange. He reached out a trembling hand to touch the doorframe. Felt the wood. A surge of emotions swept over him like a crashing wave, dropping him to his knees. He began to sob, his composure washed away by the flood of emotions dammed for so long. He was finally home again—to the time before the war—even if it wasn’t real.

  He took a deep breath after the flood had receded, and rose. He detected notes of dust and musty hay. As he looked around the barn, he had to squeeze his eyelids against another rush. It was all too much. The doorframe steadied his teetering.

  When the second tide had ebbed, he steeled himself and walked to his father’s workbench in the corner. He ran his fingertips over the surface. Tools hung above. Not a single one out of place. Christian Rysgaard had been meticulous about the care of his tools. When not in use, under no circumstance were they to be left out of their allotted spot. Breaking this rule resulted in a punishment of harsh, physical-labor. No exceptions. Christian could be a hard man.