by Bryan Davis
Tears seeped past her closed eyelids. Dad was good and kind. He never spoke a cross word. Well, maybe a profanity when he hurt himself. But he always treated Mom with kindness. He wouldn’t go on the Internet and look at … at that stuff, would he?
“I apologize for my tirade, Miss.” Sir Barlow’s tone grew calm. “Now I understand the symbolism of the fettered yoke. Perhaps he felt shackled—”
“No, Sir Barlow.” A lump swelled in Lauren’s throat. “Please … just don’t. It’s too painful.”
He laid the yoke down and spread an arm over her shoulder. “Of course. I apologize.”
Something splashed at the pool. A huge creature burst out, beating enormous wings and slinging shining droplets. Its head was that of a man, and it shouted with a human voice. “Cursed water!”
“The lobster!” Sir Barlow shielded Lauren and extended his sword. “Stand back, Miss. I will tackle it.” Just as he bent to lunge, the creature shot out a pincer, grabbed Sir Barlow around his waist, and slung him away. He crashed to the floor and slid until he lay motionless on the glass, his sword still in hand.
Her heart thumping wildly, Lauren glanced at the portal window, her only escape, but how could she leave Sir Barlow? There had to be a way to elude this … this thing.
The creature stared at her and smiled. “Ah! I was wondering if you would come.”
She squinted at the humanlike face. Although a pair of antennae protruded from a scaly cap on its head, those dark eyes were all too familiar. “Tamiel?”
He laughed. “I am glad you remember me. Our relationship has been, shall we say, strained, at best.”
“But … but you’re supposed to be dead.”
“And you as well.” Tamiel clicked his pincers together. “Snip, snip. Two lives snuffed, yours and mine. Yet here we are.”
She glanced at Sir Barlow. As he lay on his back, his chest rose and fell with rhythmic breaths. “But what about the curse? Wasn’t it true? I grabbed you. I sacrificed my life to kill you.”
“Of course it was true. We both died. But you grabbed me only because I let you. My cowardly call for help from Arramos was merely part of an act. I could have flown away at any time.”
She lowered her head. “I was wondering about that.”
“Yet you proceeded with your insane plan to kill us both. I counted on the intensity of the moment to cloud your thinking.”
She raised her brow. “You wanted to die?”
“Yes, you fool, but not until that moment.” Tamiel’s antennae quivered, and his tone altered to one of smug condescension. “I waited for Sapphira to bring the abyss to light so I could travel to Jade’s sanctum. Of course, destroying Bonnie’s song was a major goal, and we succeeded, but without securing this second goal, all would have been for naught.”
“What is your second goal?”
He snorted. “I am no fool. I tell you only enough to shame you, to demonstrate that you and your deity are no match for my cunning. I want to bury you under an avalanche of reality. Your heroic sacrifice has played right into my hands, and every potential move you make has already been calculated and planned for. You cannot stop me.”
She nodded toward the pool. “You seemed surprised by the cleansing of the water. I roused you from that pond.”
Tamiel shook his armored tail. “I knew that was within the realm of possibilities, though I thought the risk to be low. It was the only place to hide in this barren land, and I was able to stay under for quite a while.”
“Really?” Lauren scanned the area once more. With the moon now brighter, everything was clearer—an endless expanse of flat glass. As he said, there was no place to hide. Yet, why would he want to hide? Obviously he didn’t hide from Sir Barlow when he first arrived. The only possibility left was fear of something … or someone. Maybe the curse was still in effect.
“Does it take so long to verify my explanation?” Tamiel waved a pincer. “Now take the knight and go. Since I can defeat him in the bat of an eye, I have no worries that he will be an obstacle to me. In fact, he is likely to be a hindrance to you.”
Lauren studied his darting eyes. Yes, he was cunning, but now he seemed more transparent than before. He wanted her to leave, so her departure was part of his plan. He intended to follow, to wait for her to do something that would open a door, just as raising the abyss had opened one earlier.
“The Listener is not deaf, is she?” He opened and closed his pincers with twin snaps. “Now go! Or I will behead that fool of a knight!”
“All right. But it will take a while.” Lauren walked toward Sir Barlow. With her back to Tamiel, a feeling of anxiety rode up her spine. Her scales tingled, and thoughts trickled into her ears.
I know you read thoughts, but you will not learn any secrets from my mind. I know how to guard against your futile power.
She resisted the urge to look back. Even his thoughts were a form of mocking, so acknowledging his stab from behind would give him a victory. She draped the cloak over her shoulders and pushed her arms through the sleeves. Flames ran along the material all the way to her hands, though the fire caused no pain.
Lauren stifled a gasp. Where did the flames come from?
“What is this trickery?” Tamiel asked. “How do you have fire on your cloak?”
Turning slightly to view him from the corner of her eye, she lifted the hood over her head. “I thought you planned for every possibility. Didn’t this one come to mind?”
“It is of no consequence. You can do nothing to stop me unless you wish to die again.” He waved a claw. “Be off with you now.”
“You leave first. I don’t want you to see where I go or what I do.”
“Suit yourself, but there is no way to hide your actions. The moon is too bright, and the land is laid bare.” He turned and skittered away, his armored appendages clicking on the glass.
Lauren pivoted back to Sir Barlow and stared at her sleeve. Tiny firelets rippled across the lustrous white material. What could it all mean?
Bending her back, she laid Sir Barlow’s sword on his chest and dragged him by the wrists across the glassy floor. After a few steps, she slipped on the slick surface and landed hard on her bottom. She kicked off her shoes and socks and continued on bare feet. Her sweaty soles adhered to the glass and provided traction.
When she arrived at the portal, she dropped to her knees at his side and listened. Shallow breaths wheezed through his narrowed throat, and his heart thumped erratically.
She patted his cheek. “Sir Barlow? Can you hear me?”
His eyelids twitched, but he stayed unconscious.
She looked at the pool again. Maybe it could help. She ran to the water, scooped some up in her hands, and tiptoed back. Kneeling again, she poured it over his face and let some dribble past his parted lips.
After a few seconds, his eyes shot open. “Where is that blasted creature?” He flexed to rise, but Lauren laid a hand on his shoulder and forced him down.
“He’s gone. Don’t worry.”
A grimace knotted his face. “What happened?”
“He grabbed you and threw you over there.” She gestured toward his landing spot. “Then he left, and I dragged you here.”
“He left?” Sir Barlow lifted his head and looked around. His eyes stopped at his sword, still lying on his chest. “Did you chase him away with my blade?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Let’s just say that I encouraged him to leave.”
Sir Barlow blinked. “Well, lass, it seems that you are the valiant knight, and I am the skirted maiden.”
“Nonsense.” Lauren studied his eyes. They seemed clear and focused. “Are you dizzy at all?”
“Not in this position. I suggest that you allow me to test my feet.”
She rose and extended her hand. He set the sword to the side, grasped her wrist, and rose with her pull, but his knees gave way, and he fell to a sitting position. A new grimace tightened his face. “
Back spasms, Miss. Why this is happening to a body without substance, I can’t say.”
“Maybe there’s more substance than we think.” She lowered the hood and gazed into his eyes. “Sir Barlow, it’s really strange. While I was in that place with the dirty pond, my heartbeat returned. And here …” She lifted an arm and showed him the cloak’s sleeve. “Somehow I’m creating fire.”
“Amazing!” His eyes wide, Sir Barlow combed his fingers through her hair. “My dear girl, your locks are as white as snow.”
“White?” She pulled some hair forward and looked at it. Every strand was indeed snow white. “The moon, maybe? It makes everything look white.”
“Not your eyes. They are as blue as a summer sky.”
“But they’ve always been blue.” She touched her skin near her eyes. “Well, sort of hazel-blue, like my dad’s.”
“Ah, but now they’re like bright gems, sparkling and vibrant. No one would call them hazel.” He set a finger on her cheek. “And you are glowing, a soft, ivory glow—lovely to behold.”
“So that’s returned, too.” She looked at her hand but, as usual, couldn’t see her own glow. “I wonder what it all means.”
Sir Barlow shifted and winced with the movement. “It means that the changes we have both experienced point to an astonishing conclusion.”
“And that is?”
He laid a hand on his back and stretched. “That we have been restored. You are now alive, and I have my body again, such that it is.”
Lauren compressed his shoulder—solid and muscular, but he was that way earlier. “How can we be sure?”
“Well, as they say, the proof is in the pudding. We can travel through the portals to Second Eden and see if we enter in a physical state.” He gestured toward the portal. “Shall we?”
“But you can’t walk.”
“I can crawl.”
“Wait. Let me see if more water will help.” She hurried to the pond and brought another double handful of water. Along the way, she spotted the yoke on the crystalline floor, still glowing blue.
After Sir Barlow slurped the water from her hands, she walked toward the yoke. “I have to get something.” She picked it up and returned to him. “This might be part of the puzzle.”
He rubbed the surface with a finger. “Perhaps you have already solved it.”
“How so?”
“Betrayal is the most painful experience of all, but those who survive it gain much wisdom.”
“Betrayal? You mean my foster father?”
He nodded. “I am beginning to think that our quest is more of a line of stepping-stones of experience than a physical puzzle. It is you who are changing rather than our environment.”
Lauren touched her fiery sleeve. “I think I see what you mean.”
“In any case, I don’t think more water is helping, so …” He turned to his hands and knees and grasped his sword. “Lay the cloak over me. I will crawl through and throw it back to you.”
“Just a second.” Lauren studied the portal. The beam from the column appeared to be white now, so Sir Barlow probably didn’t need the yoke. She stripped off the cloak and draped it over him. With a quick glance, she checked the area. No sign of Tamiel. “Go ahead.”
As Sir Barlow crawled through the portal, the cloak sparked and sizzled more than ever. His knee caught on the material, making it slip from his head. In a splash of sparks, he fell to the sanctum’s floor with a loud thud, and the sword clattered at his side.
Lauren dropped the yoke and lunged to the window. Sir Barlow lay motionless on his back, the cloak pinned underneath as the column’s white light pulsed over his body. Blood soaked his tunic where Tamiel had speared him.
“Sir Barlow?” She set her ear as close to the portal as she dared. The sound of breathing drifted in as well as a regular heartbeat and a slight gurgle. The portal’s jolt and the fall must have knocked him out.
After glancing again to check for Tamiel, she ventured a louder call. “Sir Barlow!”
He stayed motionless and quiet.
Lauren touched the portal plane with a fingertip. A jolt shot up her arm. She jerked her hand back and shook it. This one seemed more electrified than the others.
She sat down hard and pulled her knees to her chest, the portal to the right and the pool to the left. Every few seconds, she glanced to one side then the other to check for movement. What could she do but wait? Sir Barlow might wake up soon, so wandering around looking for another way out wasn’t a good idea, especially with Tamiel lurking somewhere.
She gazed into the sanctum again, leaning forward to get a different angle. Three beams remained—a white one aimed at the tree room, another white one at the portal where she sat, and a red one at the opening of the last unvisited portal.
Lauren sighed. Too many mysteries—the martyrs’ voices, the cloak and her hair turning white, her eye color changing, a new ability to generate flames. What did it all mean? Now that she was transforming into a … a whatever, had she really completed the second portion of the puzzle? It was all so confusing!
She lowered her head between her knees. So tired. So sore. Maybe exhaustion was another proof of resurrection and certainly proof that she needed help.
“God,” she whispered. “I know you’re not used to hearing much from me, but I hope you’re listening now.” She lifted her head and gazed at the silvery moon. “I don’t have Sir Barlow. I don’t have Matt or Joan. Or Mom, Dad, Walter, Ashley, or anyone else. I don’t understand what’s happening. I’m in way over my head. I feel like a sparrow flying in a hurricane.”
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So if you’ll please wake up Sir Barlow, and get rid of Tamiel, and help me find the life reservoir and figure out what to do when I get there …” She let herself smile. “That sounds like I’m asking a lot, like I want you to do everything for me. So how about if you just give me the wisdom to know what to do and the strength to do it, and I’ll leave the rest up to you. Is that all right?”
Her back scales tingled. Whispers drifted into her ears—voice after voice saying Amen—men, women, and children in chorus as if sung by angels. Echoes followed in Spanish, an Oriental language, several indistinguishable tongues, and finally French.
“Ainsi soit-il, mon ami.”
“Joan?” Lauren searched for a companion around her shoulders, but none appeared.
A sense of warmth washed in—peace and comfort. Surely God was in this place. Someone was watching, guarding, caring.
Her hands for a pillow, she lay on her side over Eagle’s name and closed her eyes. Peace descended. Tamiel’s lurking presence no longer mattered. Touching her meant death to him, and Sir Barlow was safe from his pincers.
As sleep approached, the voices returned—Joan’s lovely affirmation, the chorus of martyrs, and finally Sir Barlow’s resonant bass. “We have been restored. You are now alive, and I have my body again.”
She drew her body into a tight curl and listened to her heart as it beat with a slow, steady rhythm. Within seconds, she drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 9
THE FIRST ASSAULT
“Bonnie?”
She turned toward the voice. Adam approached from the rear of the jet, carrying Larry’s brain-unit case and walking with stiff legs.
Bonnie suppressed a yawn. How long did that nap last? An hour, maybe? “I see you’re feeling better.”
“I feel like I got body slammed by the Incredible Hulk.” Adam stretched his neck, raising a few pops. “But it looks like Mardon’s serum worked.” He set Larry’s case on the floor. “Our digital friend wants to hook up with his chip mate. He’s picking up some radio chatter. Heavily encrypted. He says Lois is better at decrypting than he is.”
“An excuse to reunite with his wife?” Bonnie winked. “Or is Larry humble all of a sudden?”
“I am realistic,” Larry said through the lapel speaker. “Lois and I have to combine our data regar
ding the plant’s growth. She still has a piece of it.”
“Right.” Bonnie looked at Carly as she slept in the facing seat. Her earlier lesions had doubled in size, and new ones had erupted on her cheeks and chin. Might the reason for her illness be the curse instead of radiation exposure? If so, did that mean her soul was also in danger?
Bonnie leaned forward and prodded Carly’s knee. “Sorry to bother you.”
Carly’s eyes fluttered open. “Are we descending?”
“Not yet,” Adam said as he slid Larry closer. “Can we hook the spousal circuits together?”
“Sure.” Carly lifted Lois’s spherical unit and set it next to Larry.
Adam sat on the floor, pulled a cord from Larry’s control panel, and plugged it into Lois’s shell. “All right, you two, you’ll have time to get reacquainted later. Just confer on the chatter and Mardon’s plant-growth secrets and let us know what’s going on.”
Bonnie touched Adam’s arm. “Why don’t you get some rest? Carly and I can handle it from here.”
“No argument from me.” Adam slid his hand into Carly’s and smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too, Adam.” She compressed his hand, her own smile wavering. “We’ll talk later. Okay?”
“I’ll look forward to it.” He rose and hobbled to his seat.
Lois’s voice emanated from her sphere. “The chatter uses a blend of encrypted code, military jargon, and street lingo. I suspect that those engaging in the conversation are young, perhaps newly trained recruits. The haphazard nature of their communications makes the decryption more difficult. This will take a good deal of time, especially since the chatter is intermittent.”
Bonnie leaned closer to Carly. “Since Lois is running on batteries, doesn’t that mean her reception power is low? That the chatter must be close by?”
“Did we fly over a military base?” Carly asked. “That’s close enough, I think.”
Marilyn called from the cockpit. “That’s a negative. I’m steering clear of all airports and anything remotely military.”