I trained constantly, always under the watchful gaze of the angel Alysandra

.
This place I’d been brought to after my death was constructed out of pure magi
c that responded to the whims of those in it. Alysandra explained that all I had
to do was think of something and Father’s Land would provide it for me. This was
too much for my simple warrior brain to grasp, so she demonstrated for me. She
closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and imagined a mighty ocean stretching out
to kiss the horizon; and suddenly, right before my very eyes an ocean appeared t
hat made the great Eastern Sea of Elyria look like a puddle. I had no words. Al
l I could do was stare at the sparkling water like a fat child at a freshly-bake
d apple pie.
“Now you try, Tragger Drake,” she said with a knowing smile as bright as a mil
lion suns. “You have the same gifts that I do. Just think of something, and it sha
ll be.” Her eyes danced as she said this. Though her words seemed too incredible t
o believe, I’d seen for myself the ocean she had created, I had to at least try.
When I was alive, one of my biggest joys was festival time because of th
e jousting contests. I had always been an exceptional jouster and usually won t
he events fairly easily. So, I closed my eyes and imagined the grand jousting co
urt in Elyria’s capitol city of Qum. In my mind I pictured the stands draped in th
eir colorful banners of silk. I saw the trampled dirt of the ground, the waist-
high center pole that ran along the competing field, and all the squires running
around tending to the gaily-decorated horses.
“Open your eyes, Tragger Drake,” whispered Alysandra in my ear. “Look at what
you have created.” I did as she instructed, and there it was, the majestic joustin
g court at Qum. All in vivid detail, right down to the pungent smell of horse du
ng. I could do nothing but clap my hands and let lose a savage laugh. I was damn
sure going to like it here.
Alysandra explained that this place, this magical Nirvana we inhabited w
as alive, and it was in tune with our souls. The very land felt what we felt, kn
ew what we knew, loved what we loved, and feared what we feared. “Father made the
land alive to help us expand our minds,” she said in her maddeningly rational voi
ce. “To allow us to learn that only our fear could harm us. That our own worst en
emy was us, and the undisciplined thoughts that controlled our minds.” I nodded my
head thoughtfully for her benefit, but I didn’t have a clue what she was talking
about. I was a soldier, and as such I preferred simple explanations as opposed t
o complicated in-depth ones that contained big words and lots of thinking to und
erstand. The land magically created what I wanted it to, who cared how or why?
That was simple enough for my warrior mind to comprehend. That worked well for m
e. Alysandra gave me a sheepish smile and promised that in time I would come to
fully understand all the lessons Father wanted me to know. For the moment, how
ever, my simplistic explanation of Father’s Land would be acceptable. I thought I
had learned all I needed to know. I was ready to create some highly trained so
ldiers and kick some serious ass.
However, my lessons were just beginning.
I had been given the powers of a God; short of flying like a bird, there was not
hing I couldn’t do. With a thought I could send objects as big as a festival boot
h hurtling through the air, or I could draw them to me just as easily. If I was
feeling particularly feisty, I could explode them into tiny shards. Shattering
things brought me endless joy though it usually caused Alysandra to roll her eye
s and demand that I restore it back to its rightful shape. That wasn’t nearly as
fun, though it was gratifying to know that I could do that as well.
Alysandra, she detested being called Aly, so I made it a point to call her that
as often as possible, explained that the key to my using my incredible powers la
id in thought. All I had to do was concentrate on something, and whatever I tho
ught about a certain thing manifested itself into reality. Oh, how I wished I h
ad this power when I was alive; I would’ve scattered every single cell in King Col
lin’s worthless body throughout the four corners of the globe. I could’ve been King
Tragger, the most ruthless and powerful being to ever rule Elyria. The thought
was simply too delicious not to smile over. Alysandra was forever scolding me,
 reminding me that these new powers of mine were never to be used for personal g
ain, but rather as a weapon in our Father’s eternal struggle against the Evil One
, whom roamed the earth disguised as a mortal causing mayhem and stealing souls
from the good people of the towns and villages wherever he went.
I both understood and didn’t understand the logic behind this; the soldier in me g
rasped the concept of using these fantastic powers as a weapon against the enemy
, but the human in me didn’t understand why our Father didn’t just snap His mighty f
ingers and vaporize the Evil One. I made the foolish mistake of bringing this u
p with Alysandra, and that raven-haired angel with the fiery-temper, admonished
me for daring to question Father’s ways, and then sent my ass crashing through a m
ighty Ponderosa Pine tree. Then, she lectured me on destroying such a beautiful
piece of Father’s Creation and forced me to use my powers to mend the tree.
I had to retaliate, of course. She may be an angel, but I wasn’t just some ragamu
ffin she picked up off the streets, I was a feared and highly respected soldier
in a mighty army, and I came fully loaded with a temper of my own. So, I covere
d my winged instructor from head to toe in honey, and laughed until I cried as I
watched her become very good friends with all the bees and ants very quickly.
It’s heartwarming to watch someone you care about make new friends, and Aly had su
ch a . . . sweet way about her that day. I did, however, learn not to ask too m
any questions; especially where our Father’s holy war was concerned.
The mission, however, was always constantly on my mind, and the longer I was lef
t out of the loop, the longer I went without seeing our Father for myself, the a
ngrier I became. Why wasn’t I good enough to be seen by Him? Why did He only go t
hrough Alysandra? She got to see and speak to our Father all the time, why was
I excluded? Was my soul tarnished somehow? Was I unworthy of Him? Was it beca
use I wasn’t an angel? How did one go about becoming an angel, if that was indeed
the case? What did I do so wrong that He refused to speak to me? Was it becaus
e I had taken the lives of His other children while I was alive? How could He po
ssibly hold that against me? I was a warrior, it was my duty to kill in the nam
e of my liege. If He didn’t want me to spill his children s blood, why did He pick
that life for me then? What was I supposed to do? I wondered, not for the fir
st time, if Alysandra had ever killed a man while she was human. I never asked,
but I suspected not; it just didn’t seem like something she could do. Killers co
uld always spot killers, there was just something dark and vaguely sinister smol
dering in their eyes. Alysandra didn’t have that darkness burning behind hers. S
he had a mean streak to be sure, she was loaded with all kinds of mischievous ev
il, but a killer -- no, she just didn’t have that in her.
That must be the reason why our Father shunned me. I was a murderer. I had kill
ed His children in battle. My soul was tainted, or ruined, or smeared, or whate
ver it is they say happens to a man’s soul once he has taken another life. I was
unworthy of Him. I was unworthy of Alysandra.
I understood my place; death might be a new plane for me, but it was the same ol
d story. I was nothing more than the brute killer in this epic plan, and I was
more than willing to accept my part. After all, it was the only one I had ever k
nown. However, I also understood strategy and battlefield tactics. I had a lo
t more to offer then just swinging a mighty sword and killing the perceived enem
y. If Father wasn’t willing to see his ruined warrior, then the least He could do
was hear how I planned on waging His war. Alysandra was the pristine guide, al
l shimmering light and blessed soul, I was the filthy warrior cur. Fine. Then if
I was to be the general, then somebody had better start listening to my battle
plan, or they could just find another barrel-chested grunt to swing the damned s
word for them.
I walked through the lush green grass with this thought churning in my head. Th
e weather turned as gloomy as my mood; the skies became as grey as my eyes and a
cold bitter wind swept through the trees Alysandra loved to knock me through. S
now started falling steadily and the furry creatures who always seemed to be abo
ut darted frantically seeking shelter from my mood’s sudden storm. I didn’t care ab
out any of it. It wasn’t like me to be this despondent, and I had to admit that my
state of mind surprised me. I was a solider; following orders without question
had been my entire existence while I’d been alive, so why wasn’t it acceptable now
in death? I scoffed aloud at that thought. I clearly wasn’t considered intellect
ual enough to handle such deep thoughts, that’s what Alysandra was for. She was t
he brains of this outfit, I was nothing more than the dumbshit muscle. I should
be fine with that arrangement. That was exactly what a soldier was; muscle for s
omebody else s grand designs. I sighed with melancholy, what a shitty surprise i
t was for me to discover that my death was just as confusing as my life had been
.
Alysandra, pale purplish/blue wings spread out gracefully behind her, appeared i
n front of me from out of nowhere wearing an elaborately decorated hooded shroud
and a pained expression. It was a look I’d never seen on her before, and it pain
ed my heart to see her wear it now. The wind played with her black hair under he
r hood making it dance across her ivory forehead. Though this was hardly the fi
rst time I’d ever laid eyes on her, I was staggered by her pure beauty. Her eyes
betrayed her concern over the storm raging inside my soul, and I was touched tha
t she cared enough about me to want to comfort me, if indeed that’s what was on he
r mind. She was just as likely to send me crashing through a wall of her creati
on, than to offer me kind words of love and understanding.
I wanted to tell her how I was feeling, but before I could open my mouth she rea
ched her hand out and placed her index finger on my lips. Her touch was warm an
d comforting upon my cold flesh. “Be still your tongue, Tragger Drake, and put th
y fear behind you. Your words are not needed. Your thoughts are screaming so lou
dly that all the angels in Father’s Kingdom are weeping with your pain. Set aside
your worries, Brave One, for I’ve been sent by Father to explain everything to yo
u . . .”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His eyes desperately search mine for answers. I have them, but my heart is in c
onflict with my duty as an angel in Father’s army. When I guide Tragger Drake to
wards his destiny I could lose him forever, and I know my heart will not surviv
e without him. I had tried so hard to fight it, but such resistance is energy w
asted. I had finally allowed this brash, obstinate, hard-headed general into my
heart. I loved him, though there was no way he could deny his fate, and it is
because of this that I know I will help him be the Light he is meant to be. Onl
y then will he know peace. I look upon his ruggedly handsome face, seeing his in
ner torment and it shatters my spirit. The time has come for truth. I pray th
at he will be ready to accept what awaits him. Not only for his sake, but for
the future of our very existence. My duty to Father is clear; I must escort Tra
gger Drake to become the Light. Just as I had to with Corrigan centuries befor
e.
Yet, guiding Corrigan to his destiny had not made any difference to the struggle
with the Evil One. In the end, his Light had not been strong enough to save us
, and another warrior needed to be chosen. That warrior was the grey-eyed brute
standing before me with the bowed head feeling sorry for himself. I was filled
with a mixture of emotions as I studied him, noting how the wind tossed his gol
den mane like a cape behind him. I wanted to slap him across his bearded face a
nd snap him out of his self-inflicted depression. Nobody before has ever made it
snow in Father’s Land, and this thick-headed, wonderful man didn’t have the right t
o lose control over his emotions and affect so many things that he did not yet u
nderstand. Still, he was the new chosen one. He had to succeed where Corrigan
had failed.
Corrigan had ascended as my lover, my friend and my life. As a human, he had be
en a man of conviction and strength, as the chosen Light, he was the hope of us
all and I was proud to be bonded to him. But even as Father’s lips were still up
on his brow in the Holy Kiss of Love and Light, I had felt our connection sever
ed with a wrenching, physical pain. Our special bond had been shattered and re
placed with a new emptiness that was foreign and invasive to me. In the span o
f a heartbeat, I was no longer Corrigan’s beloved angel Alysandra, keeper of his s
oul and protector of his heart. I was now simply his guide, his conscience when
needed, and nothing more until that fateful battle when his Light had been corr
upted and he disappeared into darkness forever.
All the pain that had followed the devastating loss of Corrigan, my soul coming
so close to the edge of eternal emptiness, came flooding back to me with the fo
rce of a tidal wave. Now, Father has once again sent me to guide a Chosen One t
o take the Holy Kiss of Love and Light. My heart ached at his eagerness to meet
his fate, showing no concern for the consequences of such a thing. As I look u
pon him, I see that same fire in his eyes as Corrigan had shown the night Father
had sent me to him. Hungry, eager to know truth and to defend our worlds, and
I must put down this growing fear that my brave general will meet with the same
fate as the Chosen Light before him. It is no small thing to give up one’s humani
ty. In the end, Corrigan had not survived. If Tragger Drake is to meet this sa
me fate, there will be no saving my soul.
In the centuries following Corrigan’s loss, I withdrew from our world, my heart d
arkened by bitterness for what Father had put upon me. My existence, if one cou
ld say I existed at all, was meager and steeped in somber moodiness as I fell fa
rther from the Light. It was a seemingly cruel and uncaring act on Father’s part
to deny me the pleasure of knowing happiness with Corrigan. In truth, I do no
t believe even Father had fully understood the impact his loss had on me. My ow
n journey though the emptiness had been treacherous and uncertain. Each breath
was a victory as I fought my way back, and there were times when I had feared t
here was no hope that my soul would be saved at all. It is odd, really. As hu
mans, we suffer under the delusion that death will remove our ability to feel em
otional pain, that there is some numbing agent in Nirvana that blocks these hurt
s from us. But it is not so. Father’s plan for us all revolves around free will.
Where there is choice, there is always the potential for loss. He reminds us
often that there can never be true peace and happiness where it is not countere
d on occasion by struggles and pain. One must battle through the emptiness of n
ight to appreciate the promise of Light.
In time, of course, the hurt healed and my mind became my own again. Father had
been patient with me, a testament to the truth that he is a Father of love and
forgiveness. I had given Him many reasons in those years to give up and allow m
y soul to cross over. So many times I had sought out the eternal slumber that t
eased the edges of my fitful dreams. But He had refused to abandon me, instead
returning my curses with words of encouragement and my hate with seeds of love.
When I withdrew, His tears rained upon the earth from the heavens for His fall
en angel. And when I returned, all of creation was touched by His joy. Such w
as the depth of Father’s love for one of His children. I had come full circle bac
k to Him, ready to serve without question and trust to His plan.
Or at least I had been, until Tragger Drake had been dropped into my lap. With
his foul temper, fouler language and fondness for drink, women and gambling, he
had tried my patience daily and displayed an amazing talent for causing me to lo
se my temper. In the beginning, I often found myself questioning Father’s judgmen
t where this overbearing ox was concerned. There simply seemed to be few, if a
ny, redeeming qualities for me to work with. He mocked almost every lesson I pu
t before him, questioned Father’s plan with arrogance and disrespect, and showed n
o end to being a permanent thorn in my side.
But then, the unimaginable happened, and with a grand flourish he waved his hand
and caused a beautiful bouquet of flowers to appear before me when he knew I w
as feeling out of sorts. His eyes had danced with pride for his thoughtfulness.
Of course, duty dictated that I scold him for this grand display, but it was s
aid with a teasing smile and he had simply thrown back his head and laughed unti
l I found myself doing the same. It was in that moment that a new understanding
had passed between us. A camaraderie had been established that would not be bro
ken. Suddenly, it was no longer him versus me, but rather us versus the world.
I began to look forward to the days spent with him, even when he was in one of
his “Tragger” moods, and would feel cheated when we were not able to have time toge
ther. His smile could chase away the worst of my nightmares, and the most inno
cent of looks would set my soul on fire.
Now, Tragger Drake stands before me, questioning eyes and dejected soul, and tho
ugh it pains me beyond measure, I will do my duty.
“You are wrong,” I whisper, my voice trembling as I struggle against the rage of h
is demons that threaten to consume us both. “It is not your flaws which separate y
ou from Father, it is your humanity.” My eyes are glistening with unshed tears a
s I lay my palm lightly against his cheek. I am driven by my need to comfort h
im, to touch him and bring him serenity. The softness of his skin is surprisin
g and it fascinates me, a sharp contrast to the hardened warrior soul within.
“Walk with me, and I will give you the answers you seek.” I take his hand in mine
and give him an encouraging tug. With a shrug of indifference he nods, and I am
relieved that he does not resist. I am not accustomed to this brutally cold we
ather, and need movement to keep myself warm. As he follows, his shoulders are
uncharacteristically slumped, his head hung low and dejected, his eyes devoid of
their usual sparkle and luster.
“Why does Father deny me? Why can’t I see Him?” He asks bluntly, and the sudden harsh
sound of his voice startles me.
“Perhaps, it is because you are not yet ready to allow yourself to see Him. “ I repl
y. He scoffs at this and I am forced to resist the urge to send him crashing th
rough something. “You continue to use human eyes with which to see and therefor
e are missing Him entirely. You must free yourself of such bonds in order to fin
d that which you seek.” There is a rustling in the shrubbery just to my right bef
ore a rabbit darts across our path and out into the field beyond. “Look there. Wh
at do you see?” I ask, pointing at the creature as it scampers away. He turns to
me and raises one eyebrow, giving me a look of arrogant insolence that I am all
too familiar with. “And do not give me that look, Tragger Drake. It is a serious
question. Tell me. What do you see?”
“Curses, woman!” he snaps. “A rabbit. I see little fucking bunny foo-foo, ok?” Overhe
ad the skies continue to churn. And with what I think is a marvelous display of
self control, I remind myself that now is not the time to turn him into a toad.
“Look again, you lug,” I admonish gently, not allowing him to provoke me into quarre
ling with him. “Your humanity tells you that Father is a tangible, living thing.
You think Father is like you, a man and nothing more. But, if you will trust t
o the light inside of you, then you will know that He is so much more than a cor
poreal being. Here, let me show you.” I move to stand close to him, needing to t
ouch him and uncertain if it is meant to comfort him or myself. I push the orna
te hood of my shroud back from face and close my eyes, raising my hands to weave
a dizzying pattern in the air before us. I chant softly as I work, my fingers
following the intricate design within my head until we find ourselves standing i
n the midst of an expanding galaxy. Moons dance and planets rotate among the dus
ting of stars, a universe alive and vibrant all around us. I smile as he reache
s his hand out in wonderment to brush at the glittering mist. “Tell me n
ow what you see, Tragger Drake.” I whisper. “Can you truly look at something so awe
-inspiring as this and tell me that you cannot see our Father in all of it?”
“I see the truth of it, Alysandra. He is a part of all that he creates for us.” As
he speaks, I see his understanding of it within his eyes, and my spirit respond
s to the awakening of his.
“To everything there is a season, and to every time a purpose,” I whisper, quoting f
rom an ancient spiritual text, and my heart begins to ache. Father awaits, and
the time is at hand when I will lose my warrior forever. My thoughts no longer
focused, the illusion around us fades and we stand once again in the middle of
a great path through the meadow, wind and snow still swirling around us.
“So help, me Tragger Drake,” I breathe, “You had better come back to me.” I close the s
mall distance between us to press my face into his chest, the heat of his body w
arming me despite the coolness of the wind. There is no turning back from this
moment, and before we move forward I will take this one thing for me, and to hel
l with the consequences. He stares down at me, puzzled and unsure, but his arms
snake around me with quiet authority and my heart sings at the perfect fit of h
im around me.
“What is this?” he asks, his lips pressed against my temple as he tries to comfort m
e. He is so solid, so real, and the masculine scent of him clings to me. His v
oice brushes over my skin like smooth velvet as he attempts to understand this s
udden shift in my mood. There is a natural seduction to his voice, a stolen int
imacy that washes over me and I raise my face to look at him.
“How did you get inside?” I ask, and before he can respond I reach up to capture hi
s lips with mine. My actions catch him off guard and for a moment he stands the
re, not knowing how to react and I fear he will push me away. But then he moans
against me and pulls me close, curling his hand possessively around the nape o
f my neck and taking control of the kiss. His lips dominate mine and a pulsing
heat begins to build as his tongue sweeps inside, taking possession of my soul.
I ache with a need so sexual I fear it will consume me as I allow him to carry
me away on a rolling wave of pure sensation. Colors dance and the world around
me spins in a dizzying wave of contentment. I am alive again, hungry for his
body, for his touch. He has claimed me, this gentle giant of mine, and I will f
orever belong only to him.
With great difficulty, I break the kiss, my breathing ragged as my pulse races.
I look up to see him smiling down at me with his typical look of self-satisfac
tion, laced with just enough smugness that he comes dangerously close to being t
urned into a pile of horse dung. I try to scowl, but his smile is contagious a
nd soon I find myself grinning like some silly school girl. He reaches down to
cup my chin with his hand, and then nods to indicate the calm around us.
“You are all in the world that can soothe my soul, Alysandra, Keeper of Time.” He s
ays softly, and I suddenly become aware of what it is he is trying to show me.
The storm has ceased to howl, thick grey clouds dissipating to reveal an azure b
lue sky. The sun bathes the land in honey-hued tones of soothing light laced wi
th healing warmth and the air is filled with scent of fruit and flowers. Trees
begin to awaken with vibrant shades of green as a thick carpet of grass pushes
through to chase away the last of the snow.
“It is time, Tragger Drake, for you to ascend and become the Chosen Light.” My words
are strained, and I cannot keep the sadness from my voice as the great staircas
e appears before us. The air around me grows thin and I suddenly find it difficu
lt to breathe. “Father awaits, as does your destiny.”