In The Arms of an Angel - 38. Chapter 38 -

The Angelic Host was something to behold. Row after row of shining angels in silver armour mounted on snow white horses. Their hair streamed out behind them as did their banners of blue and silver. It would have taken Pasha’s breath away if he hadn’t been focussed elsewhere. Gabri’el had taken three hours to gather the Host and Pasha was about ready to hit him. Now, all he could think of was getting underway, finding the bastards who’d taken Uzzy and making them pay. It didn’t help that for the last hour his head had been full of screaming.

He couldn’t say for sure the screams were Uzzy’s because they were distant, searing the edges of his consciousness, and didn’t seem to have any connection with their bond, but it didn’t matter. Screams were screams and they were driving him insane.

Gabri’el pulled his horse next to Pasha’s. Pasha was riding one of the enormous white horses of the Host and, although he’d never admit it, he had to use all his wits to stay in the saddle.

“We’re ready to go. How are you doing?”

“Going out of my mind and a hair’s breadth away from going back. I can’t bear that we left him there alone.”

“Hardly alone. My guards will guard him well.”

“And what if he dies? If I leave him to die alone? I should never have left him.”

“If you don’t leave him, he will die.”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s what they want; what they’ve always wanted; to separate you. Don’t you see? Once you get there you can connect with Uzzy again. It’s our only chance.”

Pasha thought about it and realised he was right.

“I’m sorry. I’m just….”

“I know. So am I. Trust me, Pasha, I’d promise you to go in and get him back to you this afternoon if I could, but I don’t think anyone but you can. I don’t think even you can alone. You have to join again.”

“Will he be able to?”

“I don’t know, but if he can’t we’re screwed.” Gabri’el grinned and it struck Pasha that he was very beautiful. “Don’t worry; if we go down, we go down fighting – together.” He reached out his hand and after a moment hesitation Pasha took it. Rearing his horse, Gabri’el drew his sword and gave a strange yodelling cry that was taken up by the rest of the Host. The sound raised the hairs on Pasha’s neck and made him shiver. Quite suddenly he was filled with a wild exhilaration and he reared his horse before galloping after Gabri’el.

They galloped along the wide thoroughfare, which was thronged with people, cheering at the parade even though they had no idea what its purpose was. When the city fell away they found themselves on a wide plain. On the far side of the plain the sun was setting, an enormous ball of orange fire slung low in the sky. Gabri’el pulled up his horse and the whole Host came to a dead stop.

“Ready?” Gabri’el called to Pasha, his voice full of excitement.

Pasha was mystified. “Ready for what?”

“To ride out with the Host.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“Oh no, my dear, not even close. My only advice is hold on for dear life and whatever you do, don’t fall off the horse.”

“I’m not going to fall off the horse,” Pasha said indignantly. “I’m a good rider.”

“Not of these horses you aren’t,” Gabri’el said with amusement. He raised his sword and gave that strange yodelling cry and suddenly they were flying. The Host streamed across the plain like a river of mercury. Right into the heart of the sun they rode, with Pasha and Gabri’el at their head.

Standing in his saddle, his body throbbing with a deep thrill of excitement, Pasha glanced over his shoulder at the wonder that was the Angelic Host in full flow. It was almost his undoing.

“Pasha,” Gabri’el cried and he turned in time to see a swirling vortex open in front of them. Gabri’el rode into what Pasha could only consider to be a doorway, without stopping and winked out of existence, or so it seemed. Holding on for dear life, Pasha crouched low over his horse’s neck and closed his eyes.

The temperature dropped suddenly and Pasha shivered. It felt as if slivers of ice were slicing his skin and he couldn’t help but cry out. However, as soon as he became aware of the biting cold and pain, it was gone and there was sun warm on his skin again. He opened his eyes to see he was still galloping across a plain, but it was a different plain.

Glancing over his shoulder, Pasha watched the Host stream from the doorway and spread out, ranging across the plain behind him. When he turned back Gabri’el was holding his sword up, calling the Host to a halt.

Still gasping from the thrill, Pasha looked around and immediately recognised the purple flowers that blanketed the surrounding area.

“This way,” Gabri’el said and led the way, trotting towards the still setting sun.

“In a short while they arrived at the banks of a river that was so crystal clear it appeared metallic in the fading

light.

They followed the river for a while until it plunged into a thick wood. Almost as soon as they entered the wood the ground began to rise and they broke, now and again, into clearings that revealed they were climbing a steep mountain.

It was getting dark when they broke out of the woods once again onto a wide plateau where the river flowed into a wide, mirrored lake. On the far side of the lake a thunderous waterfall tumbled over high cliffs into the pool. It was just possible to see the spray rising from the froth into which that part of the lake was being churned.

“That’s where he is,” Gabri’el said. “Behind the waterfall.”