“Not kill, but banished,” he said through chattering teeth.
“Give your uncle a moment,” Mr. Swigart said as he turned the huge tractor back toward the inn.
My Aunt Mary greeted Uncle Matt with a big kiss and a warm blanket. Once inside, she began to dress his wound. His skin was dotted with thirteen small holes, each allowing blood to drain from his body. My aunt had to put a special putty-type salve over each one. I watched my uncle grimace several times through the procedure. After she was finished, my uncle changed and sat near a warm heater, covered by a blanket. Mrs. Swigart brought us all warm cocoa.
It felt weird, being here with these people. It didn’t feel like we were in the middle of a hunt or that demons were lurking everywhere just off the property. Or that my dad was trapped hundreds if not thousands of feet underground. It felt like I was with family, and I supposed I was.
Uncle Matt explained that the wounds had come when the BlizzardSage threw a large icicle at him, but as it came within inches of his chest, a flaming arrow shattered it, sending smaller non-fatal splinters through the air.
Two Angels came to his aid and fought the BlizzardSage. They’d quickly dispatched it and after that they guided Uncle Matt up the road through the arctic wind. But they’d cleared the path by using a shower of flames to melt the snow. They’d only left when Uncle Matt reached the entrance to The Pink Hippo driveway.
Once the account was over, Mr. Swigart said that we needed to take the tractor and clear the car wreck. He doubted anyone would be traveling the road, but nonetheless the wreckage would be suspicious.
I had exactly four hours until I had to be at the boat.
I sat on the side of my bed dressed in my hunting gear. After I’d changed and prepared, my uncle recommended that I spend some time in prayer. I did, and my mind felt clear, my heart felt full, I was ready to end this hunt, to finish the HowlSage, to stop Albert, and to break the holds on Melanie, Jesse, and McGarrett.
I decided to take the stairs and made my way to the second library. The fireplace passage had already been opened, and the old lights were lit. I crept down the stone staircase to the waterway below. I knew the old monk would be there waiting for me; what I didn’t know was where we were about to go.
Even this far beneath the inn, which I wasn’t exactly sure how far that was, I could hear the loud ring of the clock tower bells. Twelve times they rang.
It was midnight, and I’d reached the beginning of the end.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
October 31st—Halloween
—Tuesday (Full Moon)
The back of the monk was to me as I stepped into the water chamber. His hood was over his head and I could hear him singing. I knew the song—an old hymn we’d sung in church called “How Great Thou Art.”
I stood beside him while he sang.
He didn’t greet me until he’d finished each verse and refrain. Listening to him soothed my nerves. I felt goose bumps on my arms, but it came from the energy of excitement, not fear or cold.
“Come, Taylor, it is time for us to end this evil,” he said, and waved his hand at the boat.
I stepped into the wooden vessel and it rocked ever so slightly. A weak smile crossed the monk’s face, and then he turned toward the door and waved his hands.
The lights in the stairway went out. We were in darkness.
I could not see, but I heard and felt the monk step into the boat. A light appeared before me. The monk had lit an old, wrought-iron lantern. The small yellow flame provided enough light to see each other and cast an eerie flicker on the walls, increased by the reflective properties of the water. The monk sat facing me.
Where were we going? We were in a twelve by twelve by twelve cube, with no doors except the one we’d come through from the stairwell. The boat took up six feet of the length, leaving only three feet on either side.
“Grab the oars,” the monk said. I watched as he lifted the looped end of a mooring rope from a hook on the landing.
I hadn’t noticed them before, but the oars were attached to either side of the boat. I took the handles in each hand and straightened my back. I’d rowed many times on Coal Chase Lake before. This would be no different; I only hoped that we wouldn’t have to go against the current. Of course, I wasn’t sure we were going to go anywhere, besides bumping against a stone block wall.
The monk pointed to the wall behind him. “Row,” the monk ordered kindly as he used his hand to push away from the dock.
“But sir, there’s—” I started.
“Row,” he said a bit more firmly. “You must have faith.”
I shook my head and rolled my shoulders. The oars dug into the water and the boat moved forward.
An agonizing creak groaned from the wall before me, the sort an old person makes when they get up from their chair after sitting for a long time. The water foamed and bubbled as the wall began to lower into the water. An opening appeared and, as I rowed forward, we passed freely over the submerged wall.
“Faith and trust are very important, Taylor,” the monk said.
The light from the lantern illuminated his face in such a way that it cast shadows on his old wrinkled features. He was far older than I’d realized.
“We will be rowing some time before we reach our destination. At times, the current will cause you to work hard, but it is making you stronger, and at others it will assist you as it is now. Your arms will become tired, but you mustn’t give in to the temptation to quit. I will encourage you and counsel you along the way,” the monk explained. “The current is like that of our Lord and the trials we face on Earth. Sometimes there are challenges that strengthen us and other times we feel as if everything is perfect. Both are times to seek and learn, for God is teaching us and guiding us, should we choose to listen.”
I nodded my head. The words were good advice and I knew over the last twenty-nine days I’d failed to listen to God and what He was leading me to do. I’d been tempted, and instead of seeking counsel and wisdom, I gave in to my own selfish desires.
“If you listen and can find peace in your heart, our fight will be directed. Tonight will not end in favor of the evil one,” the old monk continued. “But do not be discouraged, if you feel inadequate. Remember the story of David and Goliath. David was but a shepherd boy, and in the eyes of man he was put against someone far superior in battle. And the Scripture says in First Samuel seventeen verse thirty-three: ‘And Saul said to David, Thou art not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him: for thou art but a youth, and he a man of war from his youth.’ God had chosen David for that battle and later to lead His people. God has a plan for all of us.”
The words were from the ultimate Sword. Over the last twenty-nine days, I’d failed to listen to God and what He was leading me to do. I thought about the cost of my neglect. Ike’s capture, McGarrett, Jesse— could this have been avoided had I stuck to my task?
“Prepare to row hard. We must take the next left and it will be against the current,” the monk warned. He held the lantern over the left side of the boat, his right, so that I could see the way.
Ten feet later and we reached the turn. I rowed each arm in opposite directions to turn the boat into the oncoming tide of water. The boat bucked as the first surges of water hit it.
“You must row!” the monk said.
I dug in. Each roll of my shoulders, each turn of my wrist, moved the boat only inches. Nothing like the three feet per stroke I’d been doing before.
This was tiring. The light was dim and I couldn’t see how long I’d have to keep up the rowing.
My arms were growing sore. I couldn’t do this. It was too hard. I was too weak. Sweat beads formed on my forehead and slid down the bridge of my nose.
“You are doing good,” the monk encouraged. “Persistence.”
It felt like an hour, but I knew it’d been only ten or so minutes, when the monk spoke again.
“Good work; turn right at the next junctio
n. It’s about nine feet away.”
The rays from the lantern revealed the next split in the tunnel. Water rushed from one opening and the current I was in streamed down the other. I dug one oar in and back-paddled with the other. The boat turned quickly and the bow dipped. The boat started to slide and I couldn’t row fast enough to assist.
Just a moment later the monk called out his next instructions.
“Turn right,” he said, the lantern light revealed an oncoming split.
Again, as I made the hard maneuver I found myself hit with a strong current of water. It felt almost as though I was driving the boat uphill, but I couldn’t tell for sure. The light from the lantern seemed to be showing more, but still it was hard to see how far it would be before the next turn.
My muscles had hardly had a reprieve and I was fighting again. They burned. Yes, I felt a chill on my chest. The moisture from the sweat was cold against my skin.
“Keep going,” the monk encouraged. “Do not give in to the pain of your arms, the weakness of your earthly body. You must seek a higher strength. The battle we fight is not only physical, but mental, and more than anything, spiritual.” He held the lantern out for me to see. “We are nearly there.”
But ahead of me I could only see a flat wall. The tunnel turned into a “T” and it was time to choose. I noticed I’d either be continuing against the flow, or with. I hoped I’d be going with.
The monk pointed and I sighed with relief. “Turn left.”
The water picked up and carried the boat again. I lifted the oars out of the water and we cruised down the tunnel. “God provides exactly what we need and He will never give us more than we can handle. It is written, ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it,’” the monk quoted.
But my rest was short-lived as the monk pointed to the left. “The turn must be made quickly; the turn is tight. We mustn’t get sucked down the other tunnel by the current.”
My aching arms reminded me of the strain from the last upstream paddle. If I was lax in the turning, the current would take us, but was that such a bad thing? The current would carry us and extend my rest. My arms were so tired. The monk would never know that I’d let us be taken; it would be easy for him to believe that I had just underestimated.
No! What was I thinking? I would know. What had the monk just quoted from the Bible?
There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.
This was a temptation—to give in to weakness, but further to be dishonest in order to give my earthly body rest. I could not give in—I had to fight.
The monk clutched the lantern and cleared his throat. “‘But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.’ It is through Christ that you stand against temptation, Taylor! He will strengthen you.”
I made the turn and again felt the current pressing against the boat. My muscles burned and the force of the water seemed stronger than it’d ever been.
I cried out, “Lord, give me the strength!” My words sounded hollow in the narrow waterway.
The monk looked at me with a firm smile. “Good, Taylor, keep rowing. This is not impossible. You have chosen wisely; you did not take the easy way out.”
Did he know that I’d thought of letting us slide down the other waterway? He couldn’t.
I grunted. Where were we even going? I wanted to be done, to give up. But I knew I couldn’t, I had to resist this time. This time? The thought came into my mind and I realized that I’d given in to temptation before.
“Lord, I need Your forgiveness; I shirked my duties the day I went with Melanie. I know now that she was misleading me, that she was using her beauty to distract me from what needed to be done.” I realized then that I was praying aloud…screaming it, in fact.
“Do you know the story of Samson?” the monk asked.
I nodded, sending droplets of sweat flying.
“Samson was tempted by a beautiful woman; her name was Delilah. He ended up giving away the secret to his strength and she used it against him. He was captured and broken by the Philistines. But when Samson called on the strength of God, he was still able to complete what God had planned for him, even though he’d messed everything up along the way.” The monk lifted the lantern. “Right turn.”
I followed the command and felt the relief of the current taking over. The boat slid through the water and I allowed my arms to rest. It seemed to last longer than before. I noticed that I could see more of the monk’s features as he sat across from me. I could also see further down the tunnel ahead of us. The light in the lantern had grown brighter.
The water was shallow around us and green in color, and I could see the bottom of the tunnel. We were coasting along slowly now.
The monk began to sing; his choice: “In the Garden.” His voice echoed around us, sounding as though many were singing with him. The light reflecting off the water and its flicker provided a surreal setting for the song.
An odd feeling of strength came over me, a shiver of excitement and anticipation.
As he finished the song, the lantern light revealed another split in the tunnel. I knew we’d be heading against the current. I prayed for strength.
The lantern light grew brighter and, as I made the turn, I could see that this tunnel was longer than any I’d gone through before.
I rowed, propelling the boat forward, but the resistance was strong. At the pace we were going, it’d take an hour to get to the end, and I didn’t think I had the strength to last that long. The sweat was running down my cheeks and my armpits were soaked. Was this ever going to end?
Then the monk caught me off guard; he began to sing. But the songs were from my childhood, from Sunday school. He started with “The Lord’s Army” and ended with “This Little Light of Mine.” And as he finished, on the final line the lantern seemed to brighten and he pointed toward the oncoming wall. “Turn right.”
The turn came quick and the lantern’s light hit the entire tunnel ahead. It was long, but the current was with me and it was picking up speed. We were cruising along and the monk began to sing again, this time, “Come Thou Fount.”
Although this was the longest tunnel we’d be in, it hardly took the entire song to navigate. As we neared the end of the tunnel, I wondered when the boat trip would end. It seemed we should be getting somewhere, and while I wasn’t as worried about whether I could continue, I was feeling confident—not overly, but prepared for the fight ahead. My adrenaline was pumping and I was ready to dispatch the HowlSage, confront the jinn, and even go head-to-head with the gray mist.
“Turn right,” the monk said.
The bow of the boat was breached by a strong surge of water. We were headed into the current again; the lantern light seemed to dim and then extinguish. I was fighting the current with every stroke of my arms. My muscles burned, but worse than before. The monk said nothing, and I could no longer see his face. I suddenly felt the boat begin to slip backward. I had to row harder.
“Lord, give me the strength!” I cried. I dug deeper, the oars rotated— into the water, out of the water, in again.
Then for some reason I just let go. The boat began to slide backward. “Please, Lord!” I called. “I need Your strength.”
A surge of air blasted me in the back, pressing me forward. The entire boat moved forward. I grabbed the oars and dug in. The boat began to move, I…no, we were beating the current.
Still the monk had not spoken, but the lantern was again lit, and the flame growing brighter every moment. Soon I could see the end of the tunnel.
It was near.
Twenty feet…
Fifteen feet�
�
Ten feet…
Five feet…
“Left,” the monk said, and a smile flickered across his face. As we turned, we came into a small chamber. A gurgling in the water behind me caused me to look back. A stone wall was emerging from beneath the water. Growing higher and higher, soon it reached the ceiling and the wall stopped.
I looked around. It couldn’t be.
We were in the exact chamber we’d started in. The old monk took the rope from the bottom of the boat and looped it back around the mooring hook.
The old monk stepped from the boat and offered his hand for me to join him. “You are ready.”
“But where are we?” I asked. “Are we back at the beginning?”
The monk shook his head, “No, no, my dear boy. You are far from where you were when we began.”
I wanted to clarify, but then I understood. This was never about going somewhere to meet the HowlSage. This was a test not only of my physical strength, but that of my strength in Christ. All of it was to prepare me for what I would face. I knew it without the old man telling me.
He touched a small switch and the staircase lit up. I followed him up in silence, and when we were back in the library, he spoke. “Rest, my boy. For at dusk you defeat the HowlSage.”
I nodded and left the library for my room.
I woke to Ike’s shaking. His hands were on my shoulder.
“Taylor, get up,” he said. “It’s time to go. It’s only an hour before dusk.”
I rolled to my side and looked at my alarm clock—4:20 p.m. My arms ached and my eyes were so heavy. What had I done last night, or this morning? I knew I’d rowed in the dark, but why had I done that?
Most athletes I knew didn’t work that hard the night—I mean—the morning of their competition. But I’d been put through the most intense workout I’d ever endured. I tried to sit up, but my abs felt like they’d been ripped out of my body.
Ike reached out his arms and pulled me up, which I groaned through. Then I tried moving my legs to the edge of the bed. I’d never realized how much rowing utilizes your entire body.
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