Seventh Dimension - The King - Book 2, A Young Adult Fantasy

by Lorilyn Roberts

  I was no General Goren—and no angel either.

  CHAPTER 40 FINAL RACE

  Two Weeks Later

  The crowds stood and cheered when I walked into the stadium. I was the gladiator everyone had come to see. The sponsors wanted to maximize the profits and build the suspense—so my race was last. I had become a hero in Caesarea and beyond.

  I waved to my fans. What else did they have to look forward to besides chariot racing? I gave the masses a diversion from cursed Rome.

  I admired the stadium, its construction, its history, and the lore of chariot racing. The excitement it offered to those in the stands and the courage of those who dared to step onto a chariot and be a gladiator—I was part of that story now that been forgotten, but had I let it go too far?

  I wrapped the reins around my waist and tucked the knife inside the sheath. The slaves loaded the horses into the starting gates. The trumpet sounded, the handkerchief dropped, and the gates flew open.

  Was this just a game, a race, or more? In the beginning, I wanted shekels to pay for my medical education. What did God want?

  As the horses ran with the strength of a mighty wind, I looked up into the darkened sky. Suddenly another dimension peeled back. Heaven and earth revealed themselves as a scroll that opened. The words on the scroll took on life itself—scenes played out in the heavens. The dimension of earth and the dimension of heaven had collided into a transcendent world visible only to my spiritual eyes.

  I suddenly became aware of the battle between good and evil, a battle of gigantic proportions. I was surrounded by spiritual beings both beautiful and terrifying.

  Demons and angels sat alongside racing patrons in the stands—as well as other strange creatures for which I had no name. The old familiar smell of rotten eggs filled my nostrils and burned my throat. Where was the ventriloquist? My stomach had soured and I feared I would throw up.

  My knees buckled and I swayed out of control. I was racing in a race of a different kind. I didn’t know I had entered this race. I gradually perceived this was a race for my soul. Someone else had taken over the reins.

  Creatures filled the skies, heavenly creatures wielding clanging swords and deadly weapons. The skies revealed a real heaven and a real hell locked in a spiritual battle of immense proportions.

  I wanted to steer my chariot towards the heavens, where goodness was gaining strength as it fought back against the darkness, but I was no longer in control of my life. Had it been ripped from me or had I given it up unawares? Why had I made so many poor choices?

  The masses roared with profane words and hearts captivated by worldly pursuits and unholy passion. Their shouts exploded across heaven and earth. I became keenly aware that every word we uttered was heard in other dimensions and not just in time and space. Could the spiritual world be more real than physical reality?

  Mosi and Oni galloped down the course as a storm-wind descended in the form of a spirit. The breeze blew around the chariot, like a heavenly messenger delivering a special gift. I came to realize I was not just a racer, but the prize itself. Something or someone wanted me—badly.

  The horses morphed into fiery beastly cherubs pulling the chariot. Two more angels appeared on either side. The four powerful winged creatures surrounding the chariot again morphed into indescribable shapes, terrifying creatures that hurtled the chariot across the track and into the heavens. I had no concept of where I was. Heaven and earth had melded as one.

  Above the frightening horses of fire was a glass ceiling. On the ceiling was a magnificent throne. Seated on the throne was someone who had the appearance of a man and the likeness of God. His radiance blinded me and my knees buckled. I started to fall off the chariot, but a hand reached out and caught me. Fire blazed all around—I was riding in a chariot of fire like Elijah rode into heaven—the Merkabah.

  The man’s legs glowed like molten lava. He wore a crown—but I couldn’t read what was written on it. The mysterious man’s face shone like the sun. Pure white light bathed his garments. He had the appearance of the glory of God. I wanted to fall down and worship him, but he told me to stand.

  I looked up and saw the heavens. Above the stadium, scenes scrolled across the sky. I saw the creation of heaven and earth, the Garden of Eden, and the fall. I saw Abraham bind Isaac as an offering to God and the willingness of each to be obedient unto death.

  I saw the anguish of Joseph, rejected and betrayed by his own brothers—a young man who suffered unfairly from false accusations and slander, though he himself was righteous. I felt Joseph’s pain when his brothers did not recognize him.

  What was the significance? Why did Joseph not reveal his identity to his brothers until their second trip to Egypt?

  “It was a test,” the man on the throne said.

  Two goats appeared. One goat was sacrificed. “Atonement must be made,” the mysterious man said. The other one was driven into the desert. The man said, “I am doing a new thing.”

  “What new thing?” I asked.

  The man read my thoughts. “Everything must be fulfilled that is written in the Law of Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms.”

  Where was this written? Who was the heavenly being in the Merkabah? As I looked around, the chariot appeared to resemble the ark—God had opened my eyes to understanding things far above my natural ability.

  Two Jews removed a man from a tree. I caught their faces, the faces of enlightened Jews who loved more than the rest. They loved the one on the cross the most.

  Fires around Jerusalem filled the sky and the temple burned. The city mourned.

  Swift-moving scenes revealed more suffering and sorrow—centuries came and went.

  Fire reached up into the heavens. The whole sky blazed with the fires of Auschwitz. I watched as my mother’s grandmother and grandfather walked to their deaths in the gas chambers.

  “No, no,” I cried.

  Two prominent Jewish men secretly took the crucified man down from the cross and buried him in a rich’s man tomb. Later the tomb was empty.

  Scenes came and went, faster and faster. The vision ended with General Goren fighting on the plains of Megiddo. Someone found him and transported him to the hospital in the Old City. He lay near death. I saw an angel visit him, but I couldn’t see his face.

  The mysterious man spoke. “Today you were to die in an accident, but your life is spared because your work is not yet finished. You have been marked—sealed as a servant of God. Remain pure and undefiled. Beware of the evil one who wants to profane you and take away your crown.”

  Suddenly the chariot spun out of control. I fell and felt my body being stretched too far. Pain surged through my joints and ligaments. A bright light surrounded me. Two creatures lifted me and carried me over to the spina. Then they laid me down in the grass.

  I felt someone hovering over me, but my vision was blurry and I couldn’t see. The medics came, placed me on a cot, and carried me somewhere.

  I heard Cynisca asking the medic, “Is he still alive?”

  “Yes. He is very fortunate,” a voice replied.

  I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. I could move my arms and legs and feel my limbs, but my mind was reeling.

  After a few minutes, my vision returned. I touched my eyes—my contacts were gone. How could I now see without my contacts? The medic applied a cool cloth to my face and wiped off the blood.

  Cynisca stood beside me. She leaned over and smiled. “Thank Caesar you’re all right.”

  “And the horses?” I asked.

  “The chariot became separated from the horses and the animals kept going. The horses behind you didn’t fare as well. You flew through the air and landed in the grass. It’s amazing you weren’t killed.”

  I nodded.

  The medic bandaged up the cuts on my arms and legs. I remembered vaguely what had happened. The races were over for the day and people were leaving. Several stopped by to check on me. I tried to stand, but I was too dizzy.

  Cynisca frowned.
“Daniel, why don’t you let me take you back to my place and you can rest. I can fix you some food and change your bandages.”

  “Sure,” I said. “If you can.”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She left for a short time, which gave me a few minutes to recuperate. I felt extremely fatigued and wanted to sleep. When she returned, concern covered her face. She spoke gently. “Do you feel well enough to walk? I have just the spot for you to recover.”

  I grimaced. “I don’t know.”

  “Here,” she said. “Let me help you.”

  She squatted down beside me and I draped my arm over her shoulder.

  “Just walk slowly,” she encouraged me. “No need to rush.”

  Once I stood on my feet, some strength returned. Leaning on her as I limped along, she took me to a beautiful apartment on the water, not far from my own apartment. Fortunately, it was very close to the hippodrome.

  The picturesque dwelling overlooked the Mediterranean. We walked around to the back of the apartment instead of going inside. Did she have a key or did she just want to see the sunset? Red streaks filled the horizon.

  “Is this your place?” I asked.

  “No. I asked the owners if we could borrow it for tonight.”

  “I remember you said you lived with your family.”

  “Yeah. Well, I started thinking you may not want to go to a Gentile’s house so I brought you here instead. The view is beautiful and the place restful.”

  “So whose apartment is this?”

  “A friend. It’s no big deal. They won’t mind if we hang out here for a few hours.”

  I leaned on the rail overlooking the sea. Hungry sea gulls darted about in the rocky dunes looking for whatever sea gulls ate.

  “Do you mind if I lie down?” I asked.

  “Sure. You can lie down on this low table and I’ll massage your shoulders.”

  I stretched out and dozed while Cynisca went inside. She soon returned carrying a drink, large towel, and tray with heated stones. She set the tray on the table, along with the towel. The aroma from the stones reminded me of Martha’s mint tea.

  Cynisca lit the torches on the portico as darkness fell. The lights flickered and I let my mind wander.

  She walked over and sat beside me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” I reached out and touched her arm.

  Cynisca appeared uncharacteristically edgy. Maybe she felt uncomfortable away from the stables and the racetrack. She studied my face as she clasped the drink with both hands. She smiled and rubbed her hand along my forehead. “What is that mark?” she asked.

  I reached up and touched it. “A scar from a long time ago. I don’t remember how I received it.”

  She smiled. “It looks like a seal.”

  “What do you mean? It’s just a scar.”

  “Like what the Roman use for important documents.”

  I had recently heard that word, but I couldn’t remember where.

  “If you turn over, I can start on your back first.”

  I turned over on my stomach and Cynisca covered me with the towel. She applied the lotion and her expert hands rubbed the oil deep into my pores. The hot stones on my sore shoulder muscles felt heavenly.

  My mind retraced the race as if it were a dream. Who was the mysterious person in the chariot? What happened? My life had been spared—but why? Then I remembered the words, “You have been sealed—remain pure and undefiled.” That was where I had heard the word, during the accident. But what did it mean?

  I must have dozed without realizing it. When I opened my eyes, Cynisca was crying.

  I sat up startled. She was beside me with her arms wrapped around her legs, head down, as if she didn’t want me to see her face.

  I reached out and touched her on the arm. “Cynisca, what’s wrong?”

  She lifted her head with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t do it and I don’t want to tell you.”

  “Do what? Why are you crying?”

  She turned away. Something or someone had stripped away her confidence and exuberance.

  I scooted up closer and touched her arm again. “What? Tell me what you are talking about.”

  If she didn’t tell me soon, I was going to read her mind.

  “Daniel, I need to tell you some things. I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  She sniffled. “Hold on, let me get a handkerchief. I’ll be right back.”

  Cynisca walked back inside the house as I sat and waited. I reached for the drink she had brought me earlier. I lifted it to my mouth to take a sip when she screamed, “No, don’t drink that.”

  She ran over and slapped it out of my hand. The contents splattered on the table, the stone slab, and me.

  “What did you do, spike it?” I took the towel and wiped off the liquid. The mood had gone from romantic to irksomeness.

  “Did you drink any?” she asked. “I don’t know what spiked means.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “The drink had something in it that would make you—desire me.”

  “You mean like Viagra?”

  “Like what?”

  “Never mind. You go from giving me a massage to crying. None of this makes sense.”

  “It’s not what you think. Let me explain. We need to hurry, though.”

  “Hurry?”

  “Let me explain.”

  I threw the towel on the table. “Go ahead.”

  “When the two Naser brothers heard your name at the first race, they threatened me.”

  I stared at Cynisca. “They what?”

  “Tariq said you had something they wanted, a scroll or something. I didn’t recognize the word they used. Neither brother told me exactly what it was. They just knew you had it, or they thought you had it. They wanted me to find out where you lived so they could search your apartment.”

  The only scrolls I knew about were the scrolls in Brutus’s house.

  Cynisca rubbed her eyes. “Tariq said if I didn’t find out where you lived, he and his brother would sabotage your chariot, or poison the horses, or do something bad to you.”

  Cynisca choked up, unable to say more.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t believe this.

  She cleared her throat. “I was afraid. I tried to find out where you lived, but you wouldn’t tell me, and I’d tried to follow you home several times, but I always lost you.”

  “I’ve never told anyone where I lived.”

  Cynisca continued. “This is where it gets creepy.”

  I kept listening.

  She sniffled and dabbed her eyes. “An old woman came around a few times after you started racing. I didn’t think anything about her until she came up to me and said she knew where you lived.

  “I mean, I thought it was strange that some old woman would know, and even if she did, why would she tell me that, unless she knew that I wanted to know, or she knew about the Naser brothers trying to get it out of me, or heard me ask. Look, I don’t know, but she gave me the creeps. More than that, she scared me.”

  I remained silent.

  “Do you know who I’m talking about?”

  I nodded. “Keep going.”

  “She said she would tell me, but I had to lie with you.”

  “Lie with me?” I repeated.

  “I told her I wasn’t that kind of a girl, and—and with you, I mean—” Cynisca averted her eyes. “I’m attracted to you, but—” she swallowed hard before continuing.

  “I was afraid that Nidal and Tariq would carry out what they said, and I didn’t want you hurt, or the horses. I mean, I love the horses and I care about you.”

  I nodded.

  Cynisca wiped her reddened face with her hand. “I told the old woman that I couldn’t. She handed me something and said, ‘Put this in a glass of water, mix in a little wine, and it will cast a spell.’”

  I looked at the drink that now covered the patio rocks.

  Cynisca
sniffled and dabbed her eyes again. “I told her no, that I couldn’t do that, that it would be wrong. She told me where I could find her if I changed my mind.”

  “Why? Why would she do that?”

  Cynisca stared at me. “Daniel, everyone is out to get you. That happens when you become famous. People want to ruin you, destroy your reputation, take what’s yours.”

  I closed my eyes and remembered—had God been protecting me all along and I didn’t even realize it? How else could I explain all the ways I could have been hurt and escaped misfortune? I had been blaming God for my tribulations when I should have been thanking him for his protection.

  Cynisca wiped her eyes again. “When you were injured tonight in the race, I panicked. I thought you had died. The brothers had continued to ask about you—they were becoming more aggressive. You and the horses are what I care about.”

  I stared at the ocean—what about my money?

  Clearing her throat, she continued. “I found the old woman and she made me promise—” Cynisca blushed. “You know what I mean, and I went and told the brothers where you lived. We are in their apartment.”

  “The brothers are at my apartment now? Is that why you brought me here?”

  Cynisca nodded.

  “I don’t know what scroll they are talking about, but they will rob me. I must go, hurry back.” I got up, but too quickly and fell.

  “Here, let me help you. I don’t think they want your money.”

  The thought of robbery filled me with unimaginable grief. “I’ve got to hurry.”

  Unholy thoughts went through my mind as I remembered the demon and the day she saw me enter the apartment.

  Cynisca helped me as we hurried through the square. I couldn’t run, which made it all seem worse. I rushed as much as I could. When we arrived at the apartment, no one was in the lobby.

  We dashed down the hall and found the door ajar. The room was dark and Cynisca lit the lamp. Clothes were scattered on the floor, some personal items I had bought, as well as the few possessions I owned.

  I scrambled over to my bed and reached inside the covers. I groped all over and finally ripped everything off the bed. All my shekels were gone. I collapsed on the floor. I didn’t recognize my voice—anguished stirrings spewed forth from my soul.