Red sandstone pillars reached into the sky. The tower that Alozno sought shimmered among them, barely visible against the golden dawn. He had finally arrived. The prize that he had prayed for, suffered for, killed for, was finally within his reach.
He clutched the golden key that hung around his neck. Alonzo had tipped a dram of poison into the evening brandy of the magus who possessed the key before him. No sane person would part with this key willingly, for it unlocked a treasure of immeasurable value, worth more than a mountain of gold. The Knights Templar had found it first, had likely unlocked the door, but Alonzo had no interest in second hand accounts. He needed to see for himself. The tower held the ancient library of King Solomon, said to be a repository of all wisdom, both worldly and celestial, where one could obtain an unobscured answer to any question.
The entrance to the mine was set into the wall of the canyon. The tunnel was smooth and curved, almost organic, as if Alonzo passed through the intestines of a massive beast rather than a stone hall carved by men.
The door at the end was blended almost perfectly with the wall, but Alonzo knew it was there and found the small keyhole with little effort. With trembling hands he lifted the chain over his head. He could barely fit the key in place for the quaking of his limbs. He closed his eyes and breathed to steady himself, then opened them again and with firm penetration thrust the key into the chink. It turned easily and the door gave way under the press of Alonzo's hand.
A spiral staircase lay before him. Soft illumination drifted down from above, an invitation to pass out of the darkness and enter sublime enlightenment. As he ascended Alonzo passed stained glass widows. Each contained a single figure, a beast, a demon, a warrior, a maiden, a priest, an angle. The windows got larger and the light got brighter. At the top of the stairs Alonzo had to shade his eyes with his hand so brilliant was the light. Slowly his eyes began to adjust, allowing Alonzo to take in the details of the room. There was not a single book to be seen. The chamber was walled in clear glass revealing the majesty of the red canyon below and the flat arid landscape beyond. A stone archway to the east provided the only break in the panorama, and from within radiated a blinding white light. Alonzo tried to look into the light. He could only gaze but a second before his eyes diverted to the floor. A mandala made of precious gems was set as a mosaic beneath his feet. He studied the hypnotic gleaming swirl of colors, and then he saw a single feather, large and white like a swans feather but edged in silver with a tip of gold.
Alonzo held it aloft and spoke, "Uriel, teacher of Solomon, I summon thee. Uriel, giver of knowledge, I summon thee. Uriel, angel of wisdom, I summon thee." He spoke the three-fold summons and heard rustling at the archway where an angel appeared. He spread his wings, blocking the brightness of the heavenly light. The chamber walls became opaque and the light filtered through the angel's wings, casting scrawls of shadow upon the walls. The shadows held words, formulas, equations. If Alonzo had been a patient man he might have simply stood and read the wisdom of the ages cast in shadow and light as they flowed across his vision, but Alonzo was not patient. He had already waited so long, and come so far. What he wanted was the answer to his question.
"Tell me. What is the true nature of God, and of reality?" Alonzo commanded.
Uriel's face was perfect, unlined by time or care, framed in pale blonde curls. Silver grey eyes looked with compassion at the eager human. "You may ask me any question, dear Alonzo, and by my oath I am bound to answer, but I beg of you for the sake of your own life, mind, and immortal soul, choose some other question. Do not ask this."
"You are bound by your oath," Alonzo stated, struggling to maintain his conviction under the gaze of such beauty. "There is no other question I would ask but this. What is the true nature of God, and of reality?"
The angel seized Alonzo with terrifying swiftness. If he had moved to kill, the human would have been dead that instant, but Uriel merely embraced the man, held him as close as a lover would, gazed down into the smaller man's eyes, and spoke again. "You do not understand what you are asking. My answer can bring you no joy, no wealth, no worldly power. Consider what it is that you truly desire, and ask me how you may obtain those things. If you ask your question again I will have no choice. My answer will be your doom.
Tears flowed freely from Alonzo's eyes. It was the beauty of the terrible angel that made him weep. He could not look away. He wanted nothing more than to surrender to that embrace, to ask no more questions. He wanted nothing more than to be held there in the arms of wisdom, gazing into his soft sad eyes. This is a trick, the dark part of Alonzo's mind asserted. He means to divert you from your quest, your question, the only thing truly worth knowing. Alonzo spoke again. This time his voice was a whisper. "Please, I must know," he begged. "What is the true nature of God, and of reality?"
Uriel kissed Alonzo, and the kiss held his answer. A rectangle of illumination appeared, like a window into nothing, and upon the window were black letters. The letters formed words, sentences, paragraphs. The language was not Alonzo's language, but he could read it all the same. Red sandstone pillars reached into the sky. The tower that Alozno sought shimmered among them, barely visible against the golden dawn. He had finally arrived. The prize that he had prayed for, suffered for, killed for, was finally within his reach. "What does this mean?"
"Watch," the angel's voice whispered directly into the human's mind. The angel was gone now and so was Alonzo, they had become words. Slowly a new image emerged, first as words alone and then as a new reality. There was a room, poorly adorned and untidy, containing a couch, a side table, a brown bottle and an overly full ashtray. A figure sat on the couch. The illuminated rectangle propped upright on the table before him. Fingers tapped on letters in front of the screen. Alonzo should not be able to understand these things, but he did. The words were on a laptop, in the living room of an apartment, in a city far larger than the grandest city in Alonzo's world, but still only medium sized in that man's world... and that man... he was the author... the storyteller... and Alonzo was the story. His story was not even a great story, not something contained in a tomb of important works, but a trifle, an after thought, an entry in a contest where the prize was naught but recognition, a nod of praise, an unwearable badge. And the man himself who must be none other than Alonzo's God, was no great man, no man of deed or accomplishment, a man of modest means and middling imagination.
In panic and despair Alonzo pulled away from the angel's embrace and in doing so rejoined the familiar reality that he knew, but what could he do? Where could he go? Was there any escape from the horrible vision he had seen? He fled down the stairs. He made it only a short distance before his feet tangled beneath him and he fell. He tumbled down. When his body came to rest, his neck was broken. Blood dripped down the stairs, pooling behind the hidden door that concealed the greatest of all treasures. The door clicked shut with the key now locked within, safely beyond the reach of any future seekers.
The angel sighed, and passed back through the illuminated archway. Before he left however, he gifted Avarice with this final inspiration. "You think you are clever, but your story was a cruel one. If you call upon me again, I will be temped to show you the true nature of your God, and your reality. Do not tempt me."
He clutched the golden key that hung around his neck. Alonzo had tipped a dram of poison into the evening brandy of the magus who possessed the key before him. No sane person would part with this key willingly, for it unlocked a treasure of immeasurable value, worth more than a mountain of gold. The Knights Templar had found it first, had likely unlocked the door, but Alonzo had no interest in second hand accounts. He needed to see for himself. The tower held the ancient library of King Solomon, said to be a repository of all wisdom, both worldly and celestial, where one could obtain an unobscured answer to any question.
The entrance to the mine was set into the wall of the canyon. The tunnel was smooth and curved, almost organic, as if Alonzo passed through the intestines of a massive beast rather than a stone hall carved by men.
The door at the end was blended almost perfectly with the wall, but Alonzo knew it was there and found the small keyhole with little effort. With trembling hands he lifted the chain over his head. He could barely fit the key in place for the quaking of his limbs. He closed his eyes and breathed to steady himself, then opened them again and with firm penetration thrust the key into the chink. It turned easily and the door gave way under the press of Alonzo's hand.
A spiral staircase lay before him. Soft illumination drifted down from above, an invitation to pass out of the darkness and enter sublime enlightenment. As he ascended Alonzo passed stained glass widows. Each contained a single figure, a beast, a demon, a warrior, a maiden, a priest, an angle. The windows got larger and the light got brighter. At the top of the stairs Alonzo had to shade his eyes with his hand so brilliant was the light. Slowly his eyes began to adjust, allowing Alonzo to take in the details of the room. There was not a single book to be seen. The chamber was walled in clear glass revealing the majesty of the red canyon below and the flat arid landscape beyond. A stone archway to the east provided the only break in the panorama, and from within radiated a blinding white light. Alonzo tried to look into the light. He could only gaze but a second before his eyes diverted to the floor. A mandala made of precious gems was set as a mosaic beneath his feet. He studied the hypnotic gleaming swirl of colors, and then he saw a single feather, large and white like a swans feather but edged in silver with a tip of gold.
Alonzo held it aloft and spoke, "Uriel, teacher of Solomon, I summon thee. Uriel, giver of knowledge, I summon thee. Uriel, angel of wisdom, I summon thee." He spoke the three-fold summons and heard rustling at the archway where an angel appeared. He spread his wings, blocking the brightness of the heavenly light. The chamber walls became opaque and the light filtered through the angel's wings, casting scrawls of shadow upon the walls. The shadows held words, formulas, equations. If Alonzo had been a patient man he might have simply stood and read the wisdom of the ages cast in shadow and light as they flowed across his vision, but Alonzo was not patient. He had already waited so long, and come so far. What he wanted was the answer to his question.
"Tell me. What is the true nature of God, and of reality?" Alonzo commanded.
Uriel's face was perfect, unlined by time or care, framed in pale blonde curls. Silver grey eyes looked with compassion at the eager human. "You may ask me any question, dear Alonzo, and by my oath I am bound to answer, but I beg of you for the sake of your own life, mind, and immortal soul, choose some other question. Do not ask this."
"You are bound by your oath," Alonzo stated, struggling to maintain his conviction under the gaze of such beauty. "There is no other question I would ask but this. What is the true nature of God, and of reality?"
The angel seized Alonzo with terrifying swiftness. If he had moved to kill, the human would have been dead that instant, but Uriel merely embraced the man, held him as close as a lover would, gazed down into the smaller man's eyes, and spoke again. "You do not understand what you are asking. My answer can bring you no joy, no wealth, no worldly power. Consider what it is that you truly desire, and ask me how you may obtain those things. If you ask your question again I will have no choice. My answer will be your doom.
Tears flowed freely from Alonzo's eyes. It was the beauty of the terrible angel that made him weep. He could not look away. He wanted nothing more than to surrender to that embrace, to ask no more questions. He wanted nothing more than to be held there in the arms of wisdom, gazing into his soft sad eyes. This is a trick, the dark part of Alonzo's mind asserted. He means to divert you from your quest, your question, the only thing truly worth knowing. Alonzo spoke again. This time his voice was a whisper. "Please, I must know," he begged. "What is the true nature of God, and of reality?"
Uriel kissed Alonzo, and the kiss held his answer. A rectangle of illumination appeared, like a window into nothing, and upon the window were black letters. The letters formed words, sentences, paragraphs. The language was not Alonzo's language, but he could read it all the same. Red sandstone pillars reached into the sky. The tower that Alozno sought shimmered among them, barely visible against the golden dawn. He had finally arrived. The prize that he had prayed for, suffered for, killed for, was finally within his reach. "What does this mean?"
"Watch," the angel's voice whispered directly into the human's mind. The angel was gone now and so was Alonzo, they had become words. Slowly a new image emerged, first as words alone and then as a new reality. There was a room, poorly adorned and untidy, containing a couch, a side table, a brown bottle and an overly full ashtray. A figure sat on the couch. The illuminated rectangle propped upright on the table before him. Fingers tapped on letters in front of the screen. Alonzo should not be able to understand these things, but he did. The words were on a laptop, in the living room of an apartment, in a city far larger than the grandest city in Alonzo's world, but still only medium sized in that man's world... and that man... he was the author... the storyteller... and Alonzo was the story. His story was not even a great story, not something contained in a tomb of important works, but a trifle, an after thought, an entry in a contest where the prize was naught but recognition, a nod of praise, an unwearable badge. And the man himself who must be none other than Alonzo's God, was no great man, no man of deed or accomplishment, a man of modest means and middling imagination.
In panic and despair Alonzo pulled away from the angel's embrace and in doing so rejoined the familiar reality that he knew, but what could he do? Where could he go? Was there any escape from the horrible vision he had seen? He fled down the stairs. He made it only a short distance before his feet tangled beneath him and he fell. He tumbled down. When his body came to rest, his neck was broken. Blood dripped down the stairs, pooling behind the hidden door that concealed the greatest of all treasures. The door clicked shut with the key now locked within, safely beyond the reach of any future seekers.
The angel sighed, and passed back through the illuminated archway. Before he left however, he gifted Avarice with this final inspiration. "You think you are clever, but your story was a cruel one. If you call upon me again, I will be temped to show you the true nature of your God, and your reality. Do not tempt me."