“But, why me? Can you explain that instead of always talking in circles?”
Silence followed until the man thought that he had been left once again in ignorance.
“It is because you carry a weapon worthy of the task you have set yourself,” said the voice, at last. “I felt its coming and sought you out, curious to know who dared carry it in battle once again.
“And as I drew near, I felt your avidity, such hunger for the destruction of all abomination that walks in darkness, preying upon mankind.”
The man touched the pommel of the sword once more, gratified that the blessings it carried were of a puissance that merited notice.
“The sword has been passed down for hundreds of years. A holy man has given it to me so that the benediction of priests might protect me as I hunt.”
There was another sound, stranger than all the rest, until the man recognized it for what it was. Someone had snorted with amusement.
“Is that what you believe, human? That the mumbled whisperings of drooling old men protect you?”
Anger welled as the man heard these blasphemous words.
“If not that, then what? You cannot deny that it destroys where an ordinary sword would do nothing.”
“Ah, human...it is not the blessings of priests that imbue the blade with power. Rather, it is because that blade was forged by the hand of a singular being and when he had done he wept with chagrin for the destruction it would yield in his hands. The sword is mighty because it was quenched in the tears of an angel.
“The smaller of two blades made by him, the angel could not face the terrible violence then at his disposal, and so he cast one of them away. And, even without it, he was formidable as he dealt out his message across the ages.”
Shock rang through the man. Except that he heard the clear sound of truth in the creature’s words. The priests had lied to him, or, themselves, were ignorant of the weapon’s extraordinary origins.
“And what happened to this angel,” he asked in hopes of teasing out more of the sword’s tale.
“Why he found what we all seek,” said the voice. “In the end, he found peace.”
The man searched for something more to say, something to wipe away the melancholy that he had heard in the creature’s tone. But, he knew he was already too late. The presence had gone.
He stood alone, then, unwilling to touch the weapon at his side for a long moment, lost in thought.
And so the tree beside him suffered the fate of all things that pass into death.
It was quietly forgotten in the darkness.
~~~
The dream held her fast.
She knew that it was not real. She was lying in her narrow room upon a narrow bed with its thin mattress.
She knew this.
But it did not matter as she found herself walking down a corridor with sickly green tiles under her feet.
Sara had answered a help wanted ad, something about a temp position. But the wording of the advertisement had been strange, although, in her dream, she could not remember why she thought this.
She had called the phone number listed only to speak to an answering service.
A week had gone by, then, one evening, her phone rang. What hour it had been, Sara could not have said either, except that the sun had gone down and the sound of a telephone that never rang had scared the daylights out of her.
Still trembling, she had picked up and a voice had asked for her by name.
Sara replied that it was she and the line crackled. There was buzz and a strange thump, then the voice spoke into her ear again, saying that interviews were being scheduled and that she was appointed for the following evening.
Again, the exact time she had been given escaped her now, as the dream slipped along. Except that she remembered being struck by the way the person on the line had spoken. The way they had said she had been appointed.
The green corridor continued to roll out under her feet as she walked. Sara wore heels with the most formal skirt she owned. It was a gamble, but she had decided to skip the panty hose. Her legs were one of her best assets and the voice the evening before had been surely that of a man. At least, she thought it had been.
I need this job...I need it so much.
She unclenched her jaw for the ninth time since entering the building and followed the instructions she had been given the night before.
She had been told that most of the temp agency’s staff would be gone for the day and that she should simply go to the address, walk in without waiting for anyone to greet her at the door and take the stairs up to the first floor.
Then, follow the corridor to room number 217.
But the hour of the appointment, even if just then Sara could no longer recall exactly when, was truly bizarre.
It was late. Of that she was sure. Dark outside, after sunset. This, too, she knew.