Setting down the ovulum, Timothy lunged headfirst into the fray and slid into Angel’s attackers. He yanked their arms away from her while beating their heads with the club. The two assailants seemed rubbery in his hands. They slipped from his grasp, squeaking and moaning as they melded into the darkest shadows and disappeared.
Timothy pulled Angel to her knees and gently brushed leaves from her jacket and hair. “Are you all right?”
She spat out a leaf and nodded. “I think so.”
After picking up Enoch’s Ghost, Timothy combed his fingers through her tangled hair, loosening a clump of dirt. “Good. I’d hate to see anything happen”
“Well done!” Abraham called.
Timothy smiled and looked his way. The Prophet stood upright with his foot pinning a human-shaped shadow. He turned toward his captive and reached out his hand. “Now give it to me!”
The shadow, trembling under Abraham’s grinding foot, stretched out a long, spindly arm, jet black and flat as a ribbon. In its blunt hand it displayed an ovulum, much smaller than Enoch’s Ghost, but slightly larger than Angel’s companion.
Abraham snatched it away. “Did you slay one of my people?”
A low clicking sound rose from the dark form’s head.
“You just found it lying on the ground?” Abraham pointed at the larger ovulum in Timothy’s hand. “If Enoch judges you guilty, I will cast you into the light tunnel.”
The shadow stiffened. More clicks sounded from his imperceptible mouth, higher pitched and faster.
“Bring me Enoch’s Ghost,” Abraham said, extending his hand.
Timothy rushed over and set the ovulum in Abraham’s palm, while the shadow thrashed under his crushing foot. “Settle down,” Abraham ordered, “or I will plant my foot in your face!”
When his prisoner quieted, Abraham leaned over and set Enoch’s Ghost on its chest. As the ovulum began to glow with white light, a flood of clicks erupted. The light covered the shadow, melting away its black shroud. A white skeleton appeared in its place, a two-dimensional X-ray without depth or contrast, exposing thin strands that looked more like paper than bone.
At the center of its spidery ribcage, a red light, the size of a toddler’s fist, pulsed in an even rhythm.
Abraham grabbed the ovulum, and the prisoner returned to its shadowy state. He shook his fist at the dark form. “You have human life energy. You must have killed Dragon.”
New clicks rose, this time with a questioning inflection.
“Because you came back for his companion. That’s how I know.” Abraham glanced around. “He’s stalling for time. The others must have gone for help.” Grabbing the shadow’s foot, he stomped toward the river, dragging the struggling creature behind him. “Hurry. Evening is upon us. Until Pegasus appears over the ridge, we are vulnerable.”
Timothy and Angel followed. “Pegasus?” Timothy asked. “The winged horse?”
“Pegasus is First Moon tonight,” Angel replied, jogging to keep up. “Where have you seen a winged horse?”
“I haven’t seen one.” As they neared the river, Timothy gazed at Angel. Tears gleamed in her eyes—searching, forlorn, desperate. He wanted to say more … offer comfort, set her free from the pain that ripped through her heart. Yet, seeing her suffering again aroused his own submerged pain. Could it be the absence of a long-time mate, his Eve?
When they arrived at the waiting dragons, Abraham climbed Albatross’s neck, still dragging the shadow creature. “Ride with Angel,” he said to Timothy. “I must tie this scoundrel to my other seat.”
“Father!” Angel rose up on tiptoes, shouting over the waterfall’s roar. “Do you still have the companion?”
“One moment!” Abraham twisted the strap and fastened the shadow to the rear seat. Reaching into a pocket, he retrieved the smaller ovulum and handed it down to her.
A radiant smile lit up her face. She pressed the little egg against her chest before tucking it away under her jacket.
Abraham jumped into his pilot’s chair and waved his hand. “Hurry! The shadow people are massing at the forest edge!” He glanced up at the purple sky just over the ridge. “We have only seconds!”
Timothy and Angel scrambled up Grackle’s long neck and threw themselves into their seats. “Good thing you brought two!” he shouted, his arms flying as he buckled himself in.
“Candle strapped them on.” She tightened her belt with a quick jerk. “He wanted to come with me.”
A flood of darkness swarmed along the sand, like oil streaming on water, filling the gap between the forest and the dragons.
Angel slapped Grackle’s neck. “Fly! Now!”
Just as the black flood reached the dragon’s claws, Grackle launched into the sky. Serpent-like fingers jumped from the sand, but too late to catch the purple dragon.
Albatross beat his wings, but only rose a foot or two. Three dark limbs stretched between him and the beach as tight bands snaked around his back leg.
“Angel!” Timothy called, pointing down. “Look!”
Angel swung around and kicked Grackle’s left flank. “Dive!” she ordered. Grackle banked hard and swooped. Angel whistled and pointed at the struggling dragon’s leg. “Ice those vermin!”
As Abraham swatted Albatross’s side, the dragon’s wings faltered. His huge body edged closer and closer to the mass of outstretched arms. Grackle spewed a thin beam of blue light. The beam solidified into a streak of ice that pierced the bands holding the white dragon and spread a frosty coat over the dismembered bodies.
Albatross shot away. Grackle pulled up hard, narrowly avoiding the grasping black arms. After a few seconds, both dragons soared above the wiggling sea of shadows.
Now safe in the sky, Timothy bundled his jacket close and shivered. It was no wonder. With the wind once again assaulting his face, even colder now with the loss of sunshine, anyone would shiver. Yet, the tremors penetrated far more deeply than a mere chill could reach. Could it be fear?
As he gazed at Angel’s back, her long hair beat with the wind, too dark now to see its Nordic highlights, but as they rose above the ridge, Pegasus coated her frame in its creamy glow and painted her locks in gold.
He shivered again. This wasn’t fear. It was thrill—the thrill of danger and rescue, the exhilaration of saving a life and restoring a slender slice of comfort to a bereaved widow. An even deeper passion had awakened, and it stirred his heart. The beautiful woman sitting only a few inches away, bobbing up and down as she guided Grackle close to Albatross, flashed an image in his mind, another light-haired lady whose absence brought the coldest chill yet. But who was she? Who was this fleeting image, one of the many haunting portraits that streamed chaotically through his mind?
Someone was definitely missing. His heart and soul had been torn away. As the two dragons flew side by side in the frosty heavens, the scene looked all too familiar. But why? Now, soaring far above danger and safe from its grasp, the thrill of rescue streamed away, and the sense of loss replaced it as grief flooded his heart.
A sudden drop shook him back to reality. Grackle descended, following Abraham and Albatross as they headed toward the river’s outlet, now barely visible in the moon’s glow. Down in the valley, a bright light filtered through a dense clump of trees, interrupting evening’s dark curtain.
Abraham guided Albatross toward the light, and Angel followed, both dragons circling once before landing near the river’s edge just outside of the light-emitting woods.
“The shadow people should not trouble us here,” Abraham said, untying his prisoner. With his hand around the altered one’s throat, the Prophet seemed to be dragging along an animated cardboard cutout as it thrashed in his grip, clicking and squeaking.
After Angel dismounted, Timothy scrambled down Grackle’s outstretched neck. “What is this place?” he asked.
“The entrance to the light tunnel.” Abraham nodded toward the forest. “I mentioned that I wanted to show you a myst
ery, and now that we have this murderer to take care of, I can demonstrate its unusual properties.”
“Is this an execution?” Timothy asked.
“In a manner of speaking.” Abraham raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
Timothy spread out his hands. “Don’t you have trials here? Witnesses? Testimony?”
“I am the judge in this world, and this creature has borne witness against himself.” Abraham lifted the shadow person off the ground, letting his feet thrash as he clicked madly. “We are shooting a rabid dog. We are clubbing a viper. There is no prison that can hold him, and once he escaped, he would kill again. Should I allow this murderer to continue to threaten my people?”
Timothy dug his hands into his pockets. “I suppose you’re right. But what about his soul? Does he have an eternity?”
“He sold his soul. They all sold their souls at another time and place when they taught their followers the ways of the hypocrites. They were the blind leading the blind, and they have fallen into this pit. Now, they believe if they possess a companion, they will regain what they forfeited, but they have to drain a life force to snatch it away.”
Albatross whistled a mournful tune, and Grackle joined in. Angel rubbed the purple dragon’s scales and looked at Abraham. “The dragons fear this place, Father. Shall I command them to fly and return later?”
He shook his head. “They will be safe here. The shadows fear the light.”
Angel stroked each dragon’s neck and whistled a few short bursts. They nodded and huddled close together.
Still dragging the condemned shadow, Abraham strode away from the river’s edge, sweeping aside branches as he plunged into the light-flooded woods.
Timothy walked a pace or two ahead of Angel. Even when he slowed to allow her to walk abreast, she slowed, too, and stayed at his heels. He reached back and took her hand. “Let me help you.”
She pulled her hand away. “You are not my Adam.”
“We are not in the village,” he said, reaching again. “No one will be offended.”
Sliding her hand into his, she allowed him to pull her to his side, but she kept her gaze straight ahead as they forged on through the woods.
Well inside the forest, a brilliant shaft of light poured into a clearing from a hole in a cliff, the high ridge that circumvented the home of the shadow people. Keeping the prisoner behind him, Abraham approached the tunnel from one side and stood near the entrance. “Enoch’s Ghost awakens me every dawn with a hymn,” he said to Timothy, “and he speaks of this place. Perhaps after I sing it, you will be able to help me understand its meaning.” Pursing his lips, he sang, this time in a lower, smoother voice than before.
When souls are lost on darkest paths,
When fathers weep and mothers wail,
No salve can cool the fevered wound,
No solace calms the tossed travail.
A tale of hearts I tell in twos,
By inward scales their souls are weighed,
For one is brazen, shameless, proud,
The other gentle, wandering, strayed.
The rebel’s heart is veiled within,
With stubborn pride rejecting sight.
Her calloused eyes perceive no flaws,
For darkness blends them with the night.
The wayward heart will seek the light,
But finds a counterfeit instead,
And celebrates the knowledge found
In human wisdom’s lofty head.
O who can rescue scarlet souls
Who shake the fist or wander blind?
The souls they forfeit, gems so rare,
Are broken glass to darkened minds.
A stranger comes, a man who weeps
A father’s tears for loved ones lost.
He hearkens from a land unknown
In search of restoration’s cost.
In desperation’s hope he calls,
“A soul to trade, a soul to sell,”
For better one to suffer flames
Than daughters loved to burn in Hell.
A path of light within the rock
Will purge all falsehood from within
And bring to light the hidden truths,
The love ignited once again.
The tunnel leads a warrior chief,
A youth with mystery in his eyes,
With flames he walks to burn the chaff.
A child he leads to silence lies.
And once the hearts of gold he trains
Are drawn to lights of holy depth,
Then wielding swords they journey where
Corruption’s harvest draws its breath.
As he lengthened the final word and faded the tune, Abraham closed his eyes, exhaling dramatically. Everyone stayed silent. Even the dark prisoner had stopped jerking. Finally, Abraham opened his eyes again and looked at Timothy expectantly. “Any thoughts?”
“Many.” Timothy laid a hand on his head. “So many, I think my brain is about to explode.”
Angel pushed her hand into Timothy’s hair and pressed down on his scalp.
“It’s just an idiom,” Timothy explained. “My brain isn’t going to explode.”
“I know,” she said, smiling. “I guess I’m getting up to snuff with your idioms.”
Abraham lifted his prisoner higher. “Let me take care of this viper, and we’ll talk.” He nodded toward Angel. “May I have the companion?”
Angel unzipped her jacket a few inches, reached underneath, and withdrew the glassy egg. Gazing at it as she handed it to the Prophet, she said, “Its light and eyes are gone.” Tears tracked down her cheeks as she strained to finish. “I have never seen a companion restored from this state.”
“We shall see.” Abraham took the companion and pushed it against the prisoner’s chest. As he walked into the shaft of light at the mouth of the tunnel, the shadow figure in his grip thrashed once again. He raised the creature high and let the rays of light bathe its shadowy form. With a crackling sound, the edges of its frame sizzled and slowly disintegrated. Sparks ate toward its midsection and grew brighter while Abraham kept the companion pressed against its pulsing red heart. As its body disappeared, its flat white bones dangled from its frame, some breaking and dropping to the ground.
Finally, when the popping sparks converged on the heart, a tiny explosion erupted, sending a pulse of energy into the companion. As the prisoner’s remaining bones broke apart and fell from Abraham’s grip, an aura expanded from the ovulum. He stepped out of the light and extended the glowing egg in his open palm. “The companion is restored, precious Angel. It is not the same as having your Adam, but its presence will keep his memory alive.”
When Angel reached for the companion, it lifted off Abraham’s palm and floated toward Timothy. As it hovered a few inches in front of his face, its eyes gazed at him, unblinking. Then, after making three orbits around his head, it settled just above his shoulder and stayed there.
Abraham stared at Timothy, then at Angel. Timothy cocked his head, trying to see the companion, but could only get a glimpse of the semitransparent egg as it floated back and forth with his every movement.
“Remarkable!” Abraham set his hands on his hips. “I have never seen a companion take on a new charge. This is surely unexpected.”
Angel drew close to Timothy and watched the ovulum. “But it’s not unreasonable. Besides you, good prophet, we have never known anyone of our race who lacked a companion, so this opportunity has never arisen.”
“What is it doing?” Timothy asked. “It feels like its tickling the inside of my head.”
Angel laughed gently. “It is petting your soul with its soft fingers.”
“That is how it probes your mind,” Abraham explained. “It makes a spiritual attachment with you so it can be a helper in times of need.”
“Father!” Angel cried, lifting a hand to her mouth. “Could it be?”
Abraham squinted at her. “What is it, my child?”
Lowering her hand slowly, she gazed at the reborn companion. “Since Timothy is now attached to Dragon’s companion, could he be my new Adam?”
Chapter 11
The Lake of Fire
Walter kept his eyes open, hoping to see the switch from one world to the next. Hades had been an exciting place to visit, but he definitely didn’t want to live there. The column of fire spun violently, whipping hot air across his cheeks. Within seconds, it faded, then vanished, leaving a dim, dreary sky with a blanket of clouds hanging overhead.
“Whoa!”
Walter spun toward the cry. Flailing her arms, Karen teetered backwards over the stairwell hole. He snatched her waistband and yanked her away, shouting, “Not again, you don’t!”
When she regained her balance, he helped her stand upright. “You okay?”
“Whew!” Karen laid a hand on her forehead. “That was the worst déjà vu I’ve ever had! I don’t want to fall down any more bottomless pits!”
Gabriel flew to her other side. He fanned out his wings and stretched one around her. “This is cooler than iced cucumbers,” he said. “I’m solid again!”
Karen leaned away, startled. “Oh! Hi! I’m Karen.”
“I know.” As Gabriel patted her shoulder with a wing he extended a hand toward Walter. “Glad to meet you.”
“Same here.” Walter shook his hand but glanced around, counting the dimensional travelers. “Where’s Ashley?”
Gabriel took his turn surveying their crew. “And Roxil.”
Sapphira leaned over the hole, placing her bare foot in one of several huge footprints leading away from the edge. A cold drizzle added to the shallow puddle forming inside the print. “I don’t see them anywhere. Could they have materialized right over the hole and fallen in?”
“Oh, no!” Karen leaned over the opening and shouted, “Ashley! Can you hear me? Roxil?”
Walter dropped to his knees and peered down, his hands clutching the muddy edge of the hole. “I see some stairs, but they’re receding. I think I can jump to them if I hurry.”