As she continued staring at the liquid, so clear, so desirable, an image appeared in her mind, the first circle of Hades where she argued with the dragon. He had tempted her to look into a pond to see the scales she had felt on her face. The temptation to acquiesce was so strong! While she fought the urge, it felt like snakes were biting her. Yet, that time, she had received a solemn warning not to look into any mirrors, so giving in wasn’t a real option. As a child of God, she had to obey her one and only master.
But what about this time? There had been no command not to drink the liquid. This water of life would not only soothe the pain that was every bit as bad as the striking serpents, it would also likely give her long life and maybe even …
Healing? She looked at a burn on her hand where a splash of magma had taken a bite out of her flesh. Raw and swelling, it hurt like crazy, but still nothing like the desperate thirst that ravaged her entire body.
Again applying a single drop to her finger, she swabbed her burn. It stung at first, but within seconds, the welt shrank and disappeared. The patch of skin, now smooth and pink, looked healthier and younger than the surrounding area.
Bonnie held the vial in her open palm and stared at this priceless treasure. There was no longer any doubt. She knew what to do. Standing up, she put the stopper back in the bottle and slid it into her pocket. She would give it to Sapphira and heal her shoulder.
Chapter 6
Visitors
Semiramis,” Clefspeare said. “The name is familiar to me, but I cannot place it.”
She lowered herself to her knees again. “I have nothing to hide, great dragon, and I will tell you my story, but I beg you to let us be on our way to any medical aid you can supply. My son is in great need.”
Billy looked at his father, waiting for a signal. With all those burn wounds, this poor guy needed help, and fast, but he wasn’t about to offer help before the two newcomers passed his father’s scrutiny.
Clefspeare nodded. “Son, take them to triage. When both have had sufficient rest, I want to talk to them further.”
“Yes, sir.” Billy grasped the man’s arm. “Do you need support?”
“I would be glad of it, young man.”
His voice seemed raspy, like shoes dragging across sandpaper. Billy pushed his shoulder under the man’s arm and helped him walk. “I’m Billy Bannister. What’s your name?”
“Hunter. My companion believes I am a hunter, but I have yet to prove it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Billy caught a glimpse of Hunter’s companion floating near his neck. It was slightly bigger than most, and a bluish light shone from within, making its egg shape clear.
Semiramis helped from the other side. “Let us hurry, Master Billy. I fear that infection might soon set in.”
When they arrived at Abraham’s hut, Billy pushed the door open and peered inside. Ashley lay sleeping on her cot next to Walter’s, which had been lowered to a normal level. Steadfast sat on a short bench with the blood pressure sleeve hanging over one of his slumped shoulders.
“We have a new patient,” Billy said, keeping his voice low.
Steadfast jumped up and hurried toward them. “A burn victim?”
“A wicked dragon spewed his hellish fire,” Semiramis said. “When my son is well, he will hunt that beast and fulfill his destiny.”
Steadfast helped Hunter lie down on a cot and knelt at his side. “Billy,” Steadfast said, pointing at the equipment table, “please fetch that lantern. It is my brightest one. And the jar of salve. It should be labeled, ‘Healing Ointment.’”
“Will do.” Billy grabbed the lantern and jar and brought them back. “Can you help him?”
“Help? Yes.” Steadfast pried a rubber lid from the jar. “Heal? I have my doubts.”
While Semiramis eyed him carefully, Steadfast dipped his finger into the jar and smeared yellow ointment on Hunter’s cheek.
Hunter cringed but didn’t cry out. Still, his entire body trembled.
Steadfast dipped into the jar again. “He reacts with pain. Shall I continue?”
“My son is brave,” Semiramis said. “Do not spare the healing ointment.”
Steadfast applied the salve and rubbed it in from Hunter’s scalp to just below his charred lips. With every push on his skin, Hunter jerked but stayed silent.
As he put the lid back on, Steadfast looked at Semiramis. “I can give him something to help him sleep.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I think that would be best.”
Steadfast pointed. “Billy, there is a clear crystal vial near the back of the table.”
“Got it.” Billy retrieved a tiny oval bottle with a flat bottom. Inside, the medicine was so clear, it seemed invisible.
Steadfast pulled out a stopper and poured a drop into Hunter’s mouth. Within seconds, his trembling stopped, and his breathing grew heavy and easy. “Now,” Steadfast said as he handed the bottle back to Billy, “we can talk about his condition.”
“Good doctor,” Semiramis said, laying a hand on his arm, “do me the kindness of a blunt word. It is not a service to tell me less than all you know.”
“First, my good lady, I am not a doctor, so blunt or not, my word may well be little more than the chittering of a monkey. Yet, I will give you my opinion. His burns are not life-threatening, but they are irreversible. He will wear his scars for the rest of his days.”
“I see.” She drew her hand back. “With all these fine potions and ointments, surely there is someone in this village who possesses more medical knowledge.”
“We had a doctor with considerable skill, but she is no longer here.” He nodded at Ashley, still sound asleep on her cot. “I have, however, extraordinary counterparts, this young lady as well as my Eve. We also have a man named Patrick and his wife, Ruth. Patrick has no formal medical training, but he is quite adept at first aid, while Ruth was once a nurse.”
Semiramis looked at Ashley, her eyes widening. “Oh!” She quickly covered her mouth.
“Do you know Ashley?” Billy asked.
Lowering her hand, she nodded. “In the land where I live, I was the guardian of Zeno’s Chasm. I saw her there.”
Billy searched for her companion but found none. “The land where you live? You mean, you’re not from Second Eden?”
“No, but my son is.”
“Then how did you—”
“Oh, Master Billy, that is a long story, and I will gladly tell you when I am summoned again to the good dragon outside, but since I fear what Ashley will tell you when she wakes, I will give you a summary. You see, I was in service to the dragon who burned my son’s face. The wretched lizard betrayed us, curse his name, and banished me to this world. But while in his service, I tried to prevent Ashley and her company from crossing a most dangerous bridge. Not only did I fear for their lives, I knew the dragon Arramos would surely destroy them for making the attempt. He sent giants to shake them from the bridge, and I was powerless to stop them. My fear is that Ashley will think I was in league with those giants and claim that I am your enemy.”
“Maybe not,” Billy said. “It’s tough to fool her.”
“Yes, I knew right away that she has a gifted mind, but as I watched those giants deal so treacherously with her and her friends, I sensed an intense anger … a righteous anger, mind you, but truly intense.”
“Well, don’t worry too much. I’ll talk with her. She can’t deny the evidence. I mean, it’s obvious Hunter’s no friend of Arramos.”
“Very true, Master Billy.” Semiramis stifled a yawn. “I apologize. Ours has been a very long journey.”
Billy looked at Steadfast. “Any vacancies in the village?”
“Since Ashley is here, her bed at Emerald’s home is likely empty. We can find a more permanent option when daylight comes.”
“I’ll escort her.” Billy took off his cloak and offered it to Semiramis. “Ready?”
“Ah!” Semiramis said, taking the cloak. “This village is populated by gentlem
en.”
As Billy guided her along the dark street, Semiramis said nothing. She just sighed now and then as she glanced at the moon. After waking Emerald and her father and making the bedding arrangements, Billy turned to go.
Semiramis caught his sleeve. “Wait.”
He spun back. “Yes?”
“Your cloak.” She let it slide off her sleeves and then slowly down her body. “The night is long and cold.”
“Thanks,” he said, reaching for the cloak. “You’re right.”
As she released it, she let her fingers glide along his forearm. “And I take it that you have no Eve to keep you warm?”
His cheeks heating up, Billy drew back and shook his head. “It’ll be a while before I’m ready for that.”
“I see.” Semiramis bowed her head. “Good night, Master Billy.” With that, she closed the door.
A shiver ran up and down his spine. Was it really that cold? Or was Semiramis’s manner just a bit too friendly? The females of Second Eden had been more affectionate than those at home, apparently innocently oblivious to how a lingering touch might affect most males of the species, at least those from Earth. And Semiramis’s touch seemed more powerful than most—electric, sensual, something that aroused his sense of wariness.
He pushed his arms through the cloak sleeves, raised the hood over his windblown hair, and hurried toward Elam’s home. With only a few hours till daylight, there wasn’t much time to sleep. Not only did he have to get up early to take Acacia to Mount Elijah, Elam would want to know all the details about the newcomers, Semiramis and Hunter.
Now exhausted, Billy shuffled to the door and eased it open. Inside the one-room hut, Elam lay sleeping on a straw-stuffed mattress near the left wall. After slipping off his shoes and cloak, Billy tiptoed to a mattress on the opposite wall, watching for any sign of Elam awakening. With darkness covering Billy’s movements, Elam would likely sleep on. The warrior chief had worked on training the troops with Sir Barlow all day, and the exercises he had put himself and the others through were often brutal.
Billy and Walter had joined the regimen during the past four weeks and collected blisters and calluses on hands and feet. But it wasn’t all bad. The expanding pectorals and bulging biceps, as well as their newfound quickness and agility, made it all worth it.
As Billy lay down, he let out a quiet sigh. Every muscle seemed to sigh with him, as if deflating after another grueling day. Even his brain seemed to leak, too tired to spark anything more than the simplest thoughts. There was so little time now for reflection and prayer. If only—
“Billy?”
He turned toward Elam. With the door closed, darkness shrouded the gap between them. “Yes. I’m here.”
“You’re back so late. Is everything all right?”
Billy imagined Elam’s form, perhaps propped on an elbow. “Well … no. But it’s all under control.”
“What happened on Mount Elijah? Did you find Vacants?”
“A few. Walter and the dragons and I cleared them out. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
Billy settled again and stared into the darkness, listening to the marsh peepers raising a racket from a nearby pond. Sounds good, Elam had said. But was it good? Not really. With Walter hurt so badly and a pair of strangers in town, everything felt as dark as the room, heavy somehow, stifling. Something was definitely wrong, but what? The feeling wasn’t exactly like danger sensing, more like an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. Could it be from the hideous burns on Hunter’s face? Semiramis’s electric touch? The sight of Walter’s blood spewing from his sliced-open body?
As Elam turned, crackling the straw in his bed, Billy looked his way. The warrior chief seemed restless. No wonder. With so many pressures on his shoulders, anybody would lose sleep. But this guy, the grandson of Noah himself, surely had more wisdom than anyone else around, so he probably felt the uneasiness in the air.
Billy closed his eyes and let the weariness take control. The dawning of a new day would likely bring answers to his questions, for good or for evil.
With Rebekah supporting one side and Dallas the other, Bonnie staggered into the springs chamber. Water splashed and licked at the stones as it rushed downward, but the sound was pure torture. Relief lay close by, but not close enough. Her feet dragged, as if slogging through sticky clay.
Finally, the two women lowered her to her knees near one of the cooler pools. Bonnie set down Elam’s journal, dipped her hands into the shallow rock basin, and splashed her face. Then, taking another double scoop, slurped the water as fast as her swollen tongue would allow.
Ah! It was so good! How could sulfur-tinged water carry such a rich and delicious flavor? It was heavenly!
As she continued to drink deeply and wash her parched skin, a whispered conversation drifted past her ears.
“Oh, thank God Bonnie’s okay.”
That was Sapphira’s voice. She seemed shaky, upset about something. Bonnie slowed her drinking and glanced their way.
“Did you learn the reason for the tremor?” Rebekah asked.
Sapphira, now dirty from head to toe, braced herself on Rebekah’s elbow. “Our exit tunnel caved in even more, so I think the collapse caused the shake. Nobody was around, so I don’t know if the others got buried or if they’re safe on the other side. I tried digging through, but the rocks are way too heavy.”
“Especially with one shoulder out of commission,” Dallas said.
Tucking the journal under her arm, Bonnie rose to her feet and pulled the vial from her pocket. “Put this on your wound.”
Sapphira took the vial and lifted it close to her eyes. As a rippling fire spread across her fingers, the liquid inside seemed to carry a phosphorescent glow. “What is it?”
“Juice from the fruit of the Tree of Life. It has healing properties. I put a little on one of my burns, and it disappeared.”
Sapphira pulled the stopper from the top. “Where did you find it?”
“Hidden in the brick kiln room.” Bonnie showed her the journal. “It was next to this. I couldn’t read much of it, only the last page, but I’m sure it’s Elam’s.”
“Elam’s?” Her hands now jittery, Sapphira gave Rebekah the vial. “Would you apply it, please?”
Rebekah slid Sapphira’s shirt down her shoulder and began stripping off the blood-soaked bandage. “This will probably hurt.”
“It’s worth it.” Wincing, Sapphira took the journal and opened it to the first page. “It’s written in Hebrew.”
As her eyes moved back and forth across the text, her lips quivered, and her voice trembled. “It’s Elam’s journal. He … he’s writing about how he feels after meeting me through the hole in the wall. Before that, he never had a reason to write, because every day was the same, just one day after another of baking bricks, getting whipped by Nabal, and searching for food until he fell asleep on the floor. But now that he met me …” Sapphira choked on her words. “He has a reason to live … and he wants to leave a lasting record of his love for me … and the secrets he learned that he wasn’t allowed to reveal until someone discovered this journal.”
“Secrets?” Bonnie asked.
Sapphira nodded. “I suppose I’ll have to read it one page at a time to find out what he—”
Rebekah made a shushing sound. “Now hold still for a second. I’m going to pour this directly over the stitches.”
“Shouldn’t you take them out first?” Bonnie asked.
“And open the wound?” Rebekah’s brow furrowed. “I should say not. Her bleeding would be profuse.”
Bonnie touched a hanging strand from one of the stitches. “Wouldn’t it be easier to pull them now than later when her skin is healed?”
“Hmmm. . . .” Rebekah said. “I see your point.”
“Our first-aid kit is still on that rock.” Sapphira pointed at a large, flat stone near one of the bathing pools.
Dallas hurried to the rock. “I’ll get
it.”
Soon, Rebekah began cutting and pulling out the stitches, applying a little of the juice after each one. “This is working splendidly. Blood pours out. I sprinkle a few drops. The cut seals.”
“Thank you.” Sapphira read the journal, cringing at every cut and pull.
Bonnie looked over her other shoulder and scanned the ancient text. Some of the words had been set in stanzas as if arrayed in poetic lines.
“This makes sense,” Sapphira said, running a finger from right to left on a line. “Elam says he’s going to rearrange the pages. Hebrew works start at the back and go to the front, but he received a prophecy that told him to start at the front for future readers.”
“Elam received prophecies?” Bonnie asked.
Sapphira nodded. “Enoch once told Elam that he was a prophetic heir, sort of like the way Elisha took Elijah’s mantle and became a powerful prophet.”
“Are any of the prophecies written in the journal?”
Sapphira pointed at the page again. “This might be one. It’s a poem, so if I translate it, it will lose its rhyme and meter.”
“I still remember Hebrew,” Rebekah said, “but no use wasting time reading it in both languages.”
Sapphira pressed her finger on the page and moved it along each line, pausing between them as she translated. “Elam says there’s a dark world … a realm below all others … reserved for neither good nor evil … a valley of dead souls who cannot ascend to Paradise … or descend into the Lake of Fire … because they yet have a purpose in the land of the living … to escape this valley, they must be called by name … into the world in which their purpose is to be fulfilled. … A day will come when a king will plunge into that valley … and wait for his resurrection call … but it can come only when precious blood is freely given … by one who is as white as snow. … Two virgins will offer their blood … one to make a warrior invincible … and one to resurrect a king.”
Sapphira lifted her finger from the page and looked at the others. “And there is a way to enter that realm from the magma river view.”