Red Shadow

12th Day of Autumn

767 Karloman’s Peace

Every inch of Ekkehard’s body hurt.

Each muscle was torn and ripped to such extent that even the gentle mountain breeze pained him. His bones were shattered, and he imagined his skeleton to be little more than a broken mosaic, demolished into a million, million pieces. Sweat beaded across his forehead, stinging his eyes and assaulting his nostrils with its sour scent. His clothing clung uncomfortably to his skin, soaked through and heavy. His breath remained laboured, and his heart fluttered, desperately fighting to keep beating.

He could not rise.

He could not move.

He was defenceless before the alien being before him.

The being that waited patiently, staring at him in silence.

It was uncomfortable to look at. Ekkehard couldn't yet raise his eyes to gaze upon its full form for more than a few seconds, and, instead, looked at the two feet that stood sentinel inches from his face.

The feet were impossible to describe. Looking upon them angered the mind, his eyes witnessing a shifting spectrum of designs. Sometimes, the feet appeared completely distinct from the ground. At other times, they seemed to mix and merge with the earth, fusing with it, making the feet appear like small, discoloured mounds of dirt that rose, eventually transitioning into the being.

Ekkehard had never seen the material that comprised the feet before.

At first, he thought it was a type of sand due to its grainy appearance. Then he thought of it as mist or smoke, due to the way it swirled and floated within itself, like milk and hot tea mixing within a cup. He thought it was solid due to the thick, sturdy density of the feet, like trunks that held up towering ancient trees. Then he thought of it as liquid as they fluidly shifted back and forth, adapting themselves to fit the vessel of this world.

Their colour was inconsistent as well.

He had seen them in a shade of cerise, a bright deep red with a slightly pinkish undertone, but it did not remain so. It explored a cycling spectrum of colours, shifting to hotter and deeper pinks before turning rosy. Then, as if angered, the colour took on a more purple aspect, shifting to the vivid purplish-red colour of fuchsia, before taking on the vibrant pink-purple hues of razzmatazz and ending in a deep and solid magenta.

Then the cycle reversed.

Underneath it all, beneath the surface of its skin, if what it had could be called skin, was a faint yellow glow, like flames, burnt to fuel the being.

It did not speak to him.

Despite the creatures muted nature, Ekkehard noticed the subtle sound of a low, rumbling hum, occasionally interrupted by a soft scratching noise, like the creaking of a ship or the grinding of metal upon metal. The noise was so subtle, however, that it was hard to catch over the sound of his own breathing and the whistling of the mountain wind.

Ekkehard lay helplessly on the dirt floor of the mountainside, for what felt like hours. When at last some vestiges of strength returned to his body, he rolled over to one side, turning his back to the being. He felt a measure more comfortable with its perplexing nature no longer before him and his body and mind both recovered with greater speed.

A short while later, he was finally able to push himself off the ground and stand.

Keeping his back to the being, he took a moment to examine the mountainside, looking up at the steep, almost vertical, incline that climbed high into fiery orange clouds above. The exertion of his body and the pain in his head softened as he looked upon the wonderful simplicity of the mundane stone wall before him.

So much had happened in a single night that simply taking a moment to pretend otherwise was as great a comfort as any. Then, he breathed in deep, squared his shoulders, and turned to face insanity once more.

Ekkehard gazed upon the Red Angel in its full majesty.

It was shaped like a man, although it could not be mistaken for one.

It had two long legs, a torso, a pair of gangly arms and a slender neck upon which a head rested. Beyond that, the entire being was featureless. It had no discernible muscular properties or facial expressions. It was composed entirely of the ever-changing sandy smoke that Ekkehard had watched shift and change colour since its arrival.

It was tall.

Ekkehard himself was tall, standing well over six feet, yet Ekkehard barely came up to this being’s chest.

Ekkehard looked up to where the being’s face would have been if it had possessed one. The swirling milky mists of its form had taken on a pinkish hue and the glimmer of yellow hidden just beneath its depths seemed to glow brighter behind its absent eyes.

Although his mind hurt when he looked at the thing, he did not fear it. Somehow, it made him feel a measure of comfort.

He didn’t know what this thing was, or why it was here. It hadn’t attacked him yet though, he thought, and it wasn’t going away. He might as well see if the thing can speak.

‘Hello,’ he said, ‘I am Ekkehard Reubke. Who are you?’

There was no reply.

The being simply stared at him, its form continuing to cycle through the spectrum of colours.

‘Why have you come?’ he asked the angel unsurely.

Silence.

‘What is it you wish of me?’ Ekkehard quizzed. He wondered if perhaps the being was a messenger. Reading the book appeared to have summoned it, and the creature in the cave had called the book, The Book of Heaven.

Perhaps this being was a creature from the heavens, but Ekkehard wondered, was it one of heaven’s denizens or one of its dictators?

Still, the creature did not reply.

Ekkehard began to shuffle and fidget with unease.

What did it want from him? Ekkehard wondered to himself. What was the point of it being here if it wasn’t going to speak with him. He had already concluded that the book and the creatures of the cave had a mission for him. What he didn’t understand is why were they so reluctant to tell him what it was.

What if he didn’t want to do their mission? Maybe that is why the thing was here. Not a messenger but a jailor, here to make sure Ekkehard does as he is bid. The creature only stares after all. Perhaps that is the message.

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Your being watched.

They have sent him a watcher.

Why send him a watcher though? He doesn’t even really know what it is that is being asked of him. He hadn’t agreed to do it yet either. He was grateful to have learnt the truth, as little of it as he had understood, about the faith and the doctrine, but why did that indebt him to the book and its authors.

Ekkehard growled and threw his arms up.

‘Well!’ he shouted, ‘what do you want from me?’ His voice echoed through the mountains.

Still the angel was silent.

Ekkehard was breathing hard and stared back at the angel with wild eyes. He waited for a response that would never come.

When he had calmed, he shrugged at the being and asked, ‘what am I meant to do?’ He walked to the cliff edge, and sat down, his legs dangling over the side.

Then a new question occurred to him. He looked up at the being, and whispered his question, ‘why me?’ he asked.

Ekkehard thought he saw something shift behind the non-existent eyes of the being.

Still, there was no answer.

Exasperated, he waved his arms in frustration and huffed.

Giving up and shaking his head, Ekkehard got to his feet, turned from the being and picked up The Book of Heaven, holding the massive tome to his chest.

In the daylight, he was able to see a clear path running down the side of the mountain from the platform. Had he seen that last night, his journey would have been far easier.

He looked at the being a last time. Still it stood motionless. He rolled his eyes and turned to head down the mountain trail.

As he took his first few steps, he heard a sound of shifting grains mixed with the creak of rusted metal.

It startled him, and he froze on the spot. Slowly, he turned and looked back. He saw the Angel had moved, taking a few steps closer to him.

Ekkehard’s heart raced, and he eyed the being warily.

Was it planning to attack? Why did it wait from him to turn his back? Was it trying to sneak up on him?

Ekkehard decided to experiment with that thought, and while still facing the creature, slowly began to walk backwards.

The Angel took a step forward for each step back Ekkehard took.

Ekkehard sighed.

‘So, you’re following me now, are you?’ Ekkehard asked the creature.

There was no answer.

Ekkehard shrugged, and began to head down the mountain trail, the Angel in tow. For some reason, he felt confident the being wouldn’t hurt him.

Not today anyway.

The journey down the mountain was much easier in the daylight. Ekkehard followed the trail and within an hour he was back under the cover of the forest trees. Finding his way back to his siblings was more of a challenge, as even in daylight the dense trees were a maze of unfamiliar surroundings.

Ekkehard searched the woods for hours, looking for some sign of his brothers. Finally, as the sun reached its zenith, Ekkehard heard his brothers calling through the woods.

‘Run Gerwald!’ Ekkehard heard Florentin shout.

Ekkehard froze. He looked around in a panic trying to determine where the voice had come from.

‘Where do we go!’ Ekkehard heard Gerwald call.

The shouting was coming from behind him, Ekkehard thought. He wasn’t certain but there was no time to waste. He sprinted toward the sound.

As he quickly pushed his way through thick bushes and trees, he found himself standing upon a high elevation, a dozen metres up. A steep and dangerous slope dropped before him into a small valley in the forest.

In the valley Ekkehard saw his two brothers running for their lives.

Behind them, half a dozen soldiers in full armour, sporting teal cloaks, pursued them.

Ekkehard watched helplessly as Florentin and Gerwald both took cover behind a large boulder at the foot of the steep decline. He looked around for a way down but saw none.

‘What good would I be anyway?’ He thought to himself. He had no weapon. ‘Why did you leave the spear last night you fucking fool.’

Florentin carried a hunting bow while Gerwald wielded a builder’s sledgehammer. Florentin nocked an arrow and fired at the loose formation of their pursuers.

His aim was poor, and the missile went wide.

One of the soldiers closed in, a Salida-style longsword drawn and held ready to thrust.

As he neared the boulder, Gerwald sprang from behind it and charged the man, taking him by surprise. He slammed the soldier in the chest with the head of his hammer, a grotesquely wet cracking sound emerging as he did so.

The soldier was knocked clear off his feet and Gerwald stood over him, ready to bring the hammer down on the man’s head. Before he could do so bolts whizzed past him, fired from the crossbows carried by two other soldiers.

They forced him to retreat back to the safety of the boulder.

Ekkehard’s heart raced as he watched the five remaining armoured warriors close in around his brothers.

He scanned the area frantic and wide-eyed, trying to find a way to help.

There was a large stone at his feet. He picked it up and threw it at the encroaching soldiers, striking one upon the shoulder. Startled, the two crossbow wielding soldiers spotted him and responded.

Bolts flew toward Ekkehard, and he was forced back from the elevation edge.

‘Ekkehard!’ he heard Gerwald shout, ‘run brother! Get out of here!’

‘No,’ Ekkehard hissed at himself, unable to peer over the edge for fear of being struck.

Something shifted in the corner of his eye and Ekkehard turned to see the arrival of the Red Angel as it pushed through the foliage of a bush. He looked the menacing being up and down.

‘Do something,’ he said.

The thing did not respond.

‘Please,’ he begged, but still nothing.

‘Save my brothers!’ he shouted his command.

The Red Angel obeyed.

The being strode to the edge of the elevation, its broad steps allowing it to casually leap and drop to the ground below. It landed before the boulder, blocking the soldiers advance on the two cowering Reubke brothers.

‘What in the name of?’ Ekkehard heard one of the soldiers shout. ‘What is that thing?’

‘What ever it is kill it!’ another shouted in reply.

A spear-wielding soldier ran and thrust his blade into the smoky mist of the Angel’s form. The blade drove effortlessly through the being, the spear tip emerging from the far side.

The Angel unleashed a screech that sounded like splitting timber as its body turned a rageful purple and the yellow fire within it broiled and roared.

With a swing of a gangly arm, the Angel launched the man off his feet, sending him flying.

The man’s torso wrapped around the trunk of a tree unnaturally as his back split in two. His body fell, a dead weight, and struck the earth with a thud.

The other soldiers panicked, turning to flee, each disappearing into the tree line with great speed.

The Angel followed.

As it strode away, the spear within it drifted through the sand of its body until it lay harmless on the ground. There was no wound or sign of damage on the Angel. It marched away, furious and unharmed.

Over the next few minutes, Ekkehard and his brothers listened as one by one, a scream of pain for each of the soldiers resounded through the forest.

As the Angel hunted, Ekkehard slowly climbed down from the elevation and joined his two brothers. As he reached them, the Angel emerged once more through the trees, returning to Ekkehard.

Its appearance had returned to its usual colours, with the yellow firelight behind the misted form of its body appearing subtle and quiet once more.

There was still no damage or signs of battle on the being.

Its featureless form remained so, not even blood appeared to stick to it.

‘Ekkehard,’ Gerwald said, not taking his eyes off the Angel and holding his weapon at the ready, ‘what the hell is that?’ he asked.

Ekkehard did not answer. He wasn’t sure he had one.

Instead, Ekkehard approached the being, standing before it and looking up into the subtle recesses of its unadorned face. For the first time, he felt a connection with the being. A kinship of sorts.

‘You saved them,’ Ekkehard said to the Angel.

‘What?’ Gerwald asked.

Ekkehard ignored him.

‘You did what I asked,’ Ekkehard said. ‘You saved them because I asked.’

There was still no answer; the Red Angel simply stood, waiting for further instruction.

Not a watcher, Ekkehard thought to himself, a warrior. A weapon. Ekkehard understood now. He was being asked to do more than a mortal man could, so they sent him something beyond mortality.

They had sent him an Angel.

The sound of a pained groan interrupted his musings, causing him and his brothers to jump.

Turning, all three spotted the source. The man Gerwald had struck with his hammer was beginning to writhe and wriggle upon the ground, struggling to get to his feet.

Florentin drew a dagger from his belt and marched toward the man.

‘Wait!’ Ekkehard called moments before his brother could open the soldier’s throat.

‘Why?’ Florentin asked.

Ekkehard didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to the Angel.

Ekkehard pointed to the wounded man, who had now pushed himself up on to both feet, and commanded, ‘kill him.’

The Angel turned to the man.

The yellow glow beneath its featureless face went wild once more, this time as if it were a furnace of pure rage. The purple mist of the Angel’s form peeled back to the edges of its face, the yellow inferno beneath revealed like a vengeful chasm of wailing fire.

An invisible force emanated from the Angel. Immense heat radiated and the air shimmered. The unseen ray struck the man, who had raised his sword in futile defiance.

First, he burst into flames, collapsing to his knees and crying out in anguish. Then seconds later he was silent, his flesh already burnt to a crisp. Then, all that was left was a black charred skeleton, still silently screaming.

Finally, nothing but dust.

The invisible force receded, and the Angel’s misted face sealed the raging fires once more.

Staring at the blackened charred ground where the man had previously stood, Ekkehard’s brothers gawked in stunned silence. Ekkehard’s mind, however, turned to the journey that had led him here, and Ekkehard at last had an answer for his brother.

He smiled.

‘Brothers,’ he said, ‘we are going home.’