Characters: um original ones? Well some are, here are some you may recognize. Judas, Jesus, God (Adonai), Lucifer(Lucivel), and Michael
Word Count: 1, 637
Authors Notes: This is for Nanowrimo so it's un edited. Um, it's rather random and I am comming up w/ stuff as I type so have fun.
Darkness was something that Jourdain was not used to. True, he had been raised tucked away from society, only ever knowing the bleak grey of the family castle but never true darkness, never darkness that felt like it would swallow you.
He shifted his weight and rolled over. Still more darkness, it was all around him. Soft clicking echoed off something, walls, pillars…he didn’t know, couldn’t know.
“Ah you are finally awake ma cherie.” A soft voice came out of no where yet it seemed as if it surrounded him. He winced as he sat up, silently cursing his stupidity.
“Where am I?” He croaked out, his voice felt as if it had never been used. Dry scratches against the roof of his mouth proved that he still had a tongue. He didn’t register the figure that stood in front of him. At least not until he – it – bent over and pulled him to his feet.
“You are everywhere and nowhere, you are on the first celestial plane.”
“First celestial plane?”
“Yes, the first plane of death.” They were walking now. There was something solid under his foot but he couldn’t see it and it annoyed him. Slowly memories flashed back, his mother, his sister, his father, his…no that stayed dark, that stayed blank and non-existent.
“Don’t block your mind ma cherie, it t'would not be good for you.” The person/man said as he stroked his cheek. Jourdain choked and took a step back, a ghost of smile graced the man's lips.
"Who are you?" He had wanted to sound brave, like his brother, but it had come out in a scramble of shaking words.
"Azrael is at your service." The man's face broke into a manic smile at Jourdain's confusion. "Ah it seems that you common mortals have not read the book of Enoch." More confusion so he went on. "Yes the book of Enoch speaks of us angels, why do you think he was taken up body and soul? He black mailed Adonai but, that is something you will find out later…much later. Come with me, I have something to show you." Jourdain felt something soft wrap around. He felt as if he had drank to much alcohol and was on a light buzz. Closing his eyes he let himself sink into the feeling hearing words of ancient tongues long lost spoken around him.
"Wake up, wake up Cartier." Jourdain stirred and found himself waking to a small room. Azrael, well he assumed it was Azrael, he hadn't really had a good chance to look at the angel before. Leaning over him was a severe looking man. He had dark skin with brown hair down to his shoulders. He wore a white tunic with red stains on the neckline and cuffs. "Welcome to the room of fates." The man said as he swept an arm back clearly indicating the room. It was dark with only a few candles lighting it. On the wall hung ropes that looked like nooses. In the center of the room was a small golden ball extending from the ball were millions of silver strands leading off to nowhere. Jourdain stepped forward, mesmerized by the small trinket.
"That, mortal, is fate. Each strand breaks off eventually into different strands…like split hairs. Each one is a different outcome for the person's action. The different strands show how history will be changed by the action…if changed at all." Jourdain nodded, not really receiving what the man was saying. He then noticed one thick strand that led up and split in two but both strands were black instead of silver.
"Is that showing that the person died?" He asked as he pointed to the lone thread. The man chuckled darkly and moved to stand next to him.
"No, that is my life. I am dead so it has no more need to shine like the rest, the only reason that it hasn't completely dissipated yet is because my life is still affecting the world…especially now." He let out a bitter laugh and traced the strand with a slender finger. The tips of his fingers looked as if they had been scorched and Jourdain noted a marking around his neck, as if someone had tried to strangle him…as if he had been hung. "Anyway, you are to go back to earth, no time has passed since you staggered out of the inn so no one thinks you dead." He paused and pulled out a small peace of paper from his sleeve. "According to the Lord and Lucifer you are to be tested…think of yourself as another Job…except not…anyway you are to make a choice, like me it will effect history though not as greatly." He paused and began rummaging through the strands muttering words under his breath. He finally snapped his fingers and pulled forth a thread.
"Here is your life. Each notch shows where you have made a big decision and each dot shows where a big incident happened. See here is where your father died, and this notch shows how you dealt with it. And that brings us to the present…well as ever present as one can get here. This is today on earth. See this little squiggle, the is saying that something important is currently happening to you, which it is, once everything has come and pass it will simply be a dot and a notch." The man stopped talking as he tugged on the string, Jourdain watched as it broke into two different directions though both directions seemed fused to another string. "Now as you know your brother will be heading into war soon, a week from now I believe? Well I am going to tell you the outcome and you must decide what you are going to do. See this fused strand? That is your brother's life and fate, it is sewn in with yours." Jourdain nodded, his eyes wide. "Now I am going to tell you the outcomes of both strands and how they affect you and history." He reached forward and pulled a strand towards them. "If your brother goes into battle he will die, he and the troops he is commanding, which I believe you have a few cousins in. But if you stop him he will live as will your cousins." He stopped to let his words sink in. "If you tell him and some how stop him the Turks will invade 200 years earlier than they are supposed to which leads to ravaged country side, rape, pillage, plunder, mass murder…and on and on with the horrors of war. But if you do not stop him he, his troops, and your cousins will die. Shall I go into how they die?" Jourdain shook his head. His mind was blank. He was still processing the fact that he was dead and now this was being thrown at him. He had so many questions and not enough time to ask them let alone get an answer.
He searched the shadows for Azrael, even the angel of death would be of a little comfort, though not much. He wasn't there, or at least he wasn't anywhere he could see.
"I'm not finished, if your brother dies and the moors are stopped for now they still invade in the mid 1400's initiating years of terror, rape, pillage, death etc. So you have to decide what you want to do, save your brother or others? And do you want later generations saved or not? The complications go on. Now, I leave you to Azrael who will escort you back to earth…any questions?"
Yes, to many to ask here, to many to even begin to articulate. "I have one." His voice was still rough from what seemed like eons of lack of use. "Is there a right answer?" The man stiffened at the question and cast him a wary glance.
"Is there ever a right answer?" He whispered. Jourdain could see sadness in his eyes that compared to nothing he had ever known. It seemed as if this man and grief shared the same body. It was different too, it was not the empty wasted eyes of the soldiers back from the Holy Land, it was not the dead eyes of the widows and fatherless children, it was not the hopeless look of wives whose husbands have just left, it was not the anger and sadness of the young who have seen to much, who have lived through too much. It was stronger than all of that, it was all of that, it was everything people have felt in one.
He knows everything that is going to happen. Realization hit Jourdain like a ton of bricks. He knows what choice I am going to make, he knows everything that is going to happen and he can do nothing about it…knows that you can do nothing about it. His mind churned as he felt himself being led away. Azrael guided him through the darkness again. Suddenly he felt something wet on his head and realized that he was no longer with Azrael, he was no longer…dead. The word seemed almost foreign to him as he tried to process everything that had gone on. He felt another splash of water and cracked open his eyes. He was lying in a ditch, covered in mud and blood and now he was being soaked to the bone by the rain.
Staggering to his feet he checked himself over and found that he was healed. Looking around blearily he found a sharp rock and picked it up. After putting a few gashes on his arm, head and stomach he limped home, hoping that the self inflicted wounds would be enough to convince his mother that he had simply got into a brawl and nothing more…or nothing less.