Angel Interceptors - Prologue
In the beginning...
This is the prologue to Angel Interceptors, serialised in my zine, Custard.
You can read it and more in the various issues available on my Gumroad.
Summer in 1097
It is a clear, cloudless night.
It is somewhere on the coast of the Black Sea.
The shepherds were nervous. They were not prone to being worried people.
Due to the nature of their work, where they lived, and the time they lived, they were not prone to jumping into shadows.
Over the last few months, they had seen no end of people - of different types and creeds. Knights passing by. Some on their way to battle - full of hope and vigour - bristling with armour, powerful horses, flying banners proclaiming their loyalty to their kings and lords. They were not subtle, these men. It wasn't just the clanking of their armour or weapons but their voices. Shouting and songs carried across the hills and initially scared the flocks situated over the lands. The shepherds and the sheep were used to these strange voices and simply viewed them as a nuisance now.
Others were on their way back - missing both the limbs and hope they arrived with. There was no noise from these. Whether it was the lack of arms or the horrors of war that had dulled their spirits, the shepherds did not know. They saw the haunting looks that the Knights gave the darker-skinned shepherds.
Many of these Knights were from foreign lands, answering a call from a leader who was not their own to capture a city they had only heard of.
Following them were no end of men - serfs who had no choice in where they went - indebted to the Knights that led them. They comply with no armour, weapons, or training. They did not often return. Their demeanour was different. In the presence of the Knights, they were quiet, humble and cowed - never looking at the men on the horses who could control their life or death. When the Knights were in front and away from them, they could be heard talking, singing or even laughing. Less than half of these seemed to return.
During these nights and many others, the shepherds could hear the sounds of war. Fires raged in the distance, and there was the sound of explosions from across the water. On a quiet night, you could sometimes hear the clash of steel and the screams of battle. On other nights all was still. The shepherds had no interest in who won. To them, their masters may change, but the taxes will remain. The only constant thing was their flock.
This night was different.
The animals could feel it. They consistently felt change first, whether a wolf hiding in the scrub or an oncoming storm. Good shepherds always watched their flocks in more ways than one. The sheep huddled close to each other, and on this night, for the shepherds, herding was no problem, and this was a good thing too. The dogs would not obey the commands given, and no beating will convince them differently. The dogs lay in the long grass with their ears flat and tails between their legs, occasionally whimpering. This worried the shepherds more - their dogs were of mixed breed, bred for loyalty and strength, and were not known for their passive nature.
So humans and animals huddled together in fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the darkness and fear of what is to come.
The darkness felt more rooted and somehow darker as the night wore on. Sporadically, through the night, there were flashes on the horizon, flames licking into the sky as across the water, two opposing sides went into battle to determine who taxed the shepherds in the future.
Then there was a flash! It was a flash of light unlike no other that they had seen - white in its brilliance and high in the sky, it seemed to be coming from the stars. The animals fled, but the humans stood - transfixed by its splendour as the light streaked across the sky. As it passed overhead, its tale of light floated down across the field and over those who occupied it.
Then there was a flash and a dry explosion of earth and grass. The light hit the ground on the other side of the hill.
The shepherds stood in awe for what seemed like a lifetime. Soon, as one, they made their way across the pasture and slowly towards the dusty cloud over the hill's peak.
As they moved over the hill, they found a mist had fallen into the valley. All had gone silent, and there seemed to be no movement in the air.
The shepherds we not what you would call religious men - oh, they went to church, and they were devout when they thought their wives were watching, but religion did not feature heavily in their lives. They were men of the fields and animals, and what they saw during their days and nights did not lead them to believe in some higher power.
Unlike the Knights - so full of religious vigour, they genuinely believed their faith could turn aside arrows and the flaming death their enemies threw at them.
All the shepherds knew was the flock.
It was with this in mind that the shepherds approached the crater.
It was this in mind that, with no thought of foreign leaders from Europe or the Middle East, these simple shepherds saw a shape in the clearing mist.
It was a man.
Fallen from the skies.
Fallen from Heaven.
It was an angel.
It was not the first. It would not be the last. It would be the one that caused more bloodshed, battles, and damage between nations. Its name would be forgotten over a thousand years until only the knowledge that he even existed would be known to a few in the corridors of power.
Even in these corridors of power, though, things can be lost - information, money and 'assets'. Somewhere, somehow, the angel was lost. Nobody noticed that it was gone, forgotten to all, but some remembered. The story of the angel was passed from father to son by the shepherds by word of mouth.
This oral history continued through history, across countries and generations. The bloodline of those touched by the tale of a fallen angel became a select group. They became a group of people with a knack and a way of sensing the supernatural arrival of a celestial being.
These descendants became the first Angel Interceptors.
