From the Mouth of Elijah

by Bryan Davis

  Semiramis took the spyglass. “Be careful.”

  “Just find a log cool enough to ride on and get ready.” He climbed over the pile again and studied the key log, still jammed tightly. Could he get it out and escape the rush? Maybe. There was only one way to find out.

  He grabbed the log and gave it another hard shove. The pile trembled. A new fountain of water sprang from a gap, then another. More sizzling erupted in the channel, and fresh steam rocketed into the sky. Several logs moved, and the fountains expanded into torrents.

  Matt scrambled up the logs, but he slipped on the wet, shifting debris. The pile swelled and groaned. More water spewed. The dam was about to burst.

  He leaped and reached for a protruding log, but it swung away. Something grabbed his wrist and pulled. His entire body flew up and over the top of the pile.

  “Hang on!” Semiramis shouted.

  Matt found himself straddling a log with Semiramis’s arms embracing his waist from behind. The dam burst wide open. Water cascaded into the channel. Like an arrow shot from a bow, Matt and Semiramis catapulted into the river’s wild flow. He grabbed the log with both hands and held his breath. Semiramis’s strong arms nearly crushed his ribs. As they rushed downstream, white vapor shot through huge bubbles on the river’s surface, as if a hundred mouths opened at the same time to belch steam.

  The log bounced and rocked. Hot water sloshed and splashed over their bodies, but at least the steamy ride cleared the air. They could breathe easily again.

  After a few minutes, the bounces settled, and the water cooled, though vapor continued to rise from the surface, creating thick fog. When Semiramis’s grip relaxed, Matt looked back. She was now wearing his jacket, and the end of the spyglass protruded from a pocket.

  He relaxed his muscles. “Thanks for saving me.”

  “My pleasure, Matt.” She laid her head on his back. “Perhaps you will soon decide to trust me.”

  Matt cringed. This manipulator knew her craft. He couldn’t escape from her embrace, and she knew it.

  “Drink water while you can,” she said as she slid the spyglass into his lap. “It’s cool enough to refresh your body. We don’t know when we’ll have another opportunity to hydrate.”

  “Good point.” After pushing one end of the spyglass into his pocket, Matt dipped a cupped hand into the flow and drank, repeating the process several times. Semiramis did the same, glancing at him now and then with a smile. Again, everything seemed calculated, vicious. The look was probably meant to mock rather than to gain favor.

  Soon, the current accelerated. Soupy fog flew past their faces, keeping their skin moist and preventing a view beyond the next few yards.

  A flapping sound penetrated the veil of mist, like someone shaking a blanket.

  “A dragon,” Semiramis said.

  “A dragon? How can you tell?”

  “Trust me. I have heard enough dragon wings to know.” She swiveled her head this way and that, as if following the flight of an erratic fly. “It might be Arramos.”

  “Do you think he saw us?”

  “I doubt it, but we should take cover. Be ready to jump to the side.”

  Matt tried to stare through the mist to find a place to leap, but it was no use. The cloud was just too thick. “Isn’t the ground still too hot to walk on?”

  “Maybe, but this river dives into the valley in a treacherous plunge. I’m not sure which danger is greater.”

  Matt looked straight ahead, but the fog blocked that direction as well. “How far of a drop is it?”

  “Far enough to worry about. I don’t remember how deep it is where the water falls. If it is deep enough, we might survive.”

  Matt let his fingers drag in the water. “Most of the logs went ahead of us, and some are still behind us. We might get sandwiched between them and—”

  Their log dropped from underneath their legs. They flew into open air, then plunged through the fog. Still hanging on to Matt, Semiramis screamed. Matt flailed his arms, trying to shift into a feet-first entry.

  The flapping sound returned. Something sharp dug into Matt’s shoulders and yanked upward. Pain ripped down his spine, and Semiramis’s weight pulling on his back added to the torture.

  He looked up. A huge body hovered overhead, and the tips of dragon wings came into view at each side in a rhythmic beat.

  He gulped. Arramos!

  Chapter 2

  THE JOURNEY BEGINS

  Bonnie stepped through a shimmering blue curtain and into a small room with floor-standing shelves filled with old books. Between the shelves, colorful murals decorated an alabaster background, depicting fruited vines draped over a long picket fence.

  At the back of the room, a lantern sat on a rectangular hard-wood table. Two benches, one on each of the longer sides, made it look like an informal dining table. The lantern burned without a flicker, though the hint of spent oil proved it to be a real flame instead of a heavenly light. In this anteroom to Heaven’s altar, a blend of temporal and eternal, it could have been either one.

  Padding lightly on her Nikes, she walked across a floor of old oak, expecting creaks, but it didn’t make a sound. When she reached the table, she pulled the cuffs of her sweatshirt and straightened her sleeves, then smoothed out the wrinkles in her jeans. With a quick brush of her fingers, she combed through her frazzled hair. The flight from her prison to the Bridgelands had been rough and windy. It would be polite to freshen up for the dear old prophet.

  She lifted a hefty book from the tabletop and tried to read the title, but the letters on the cover were oddly shaped and indecipherable. The pages within appeared to be made of parchment, slightly yellowed and wrinkled. It raised memories of many other books, like Dad Bannister’s Fama Regis as well as Abaddon’s resurrection journal.

  She laid the book down, drew in her wings, and sat on the closer bench. On the back wall, between two tall shelves, a door with a metal lift-latch stood closed. No sounds emanated from the other side. The room, perhaps just big enough for a small dragon to squeeze into, was perfectly quiet.

  She swiveled and looked through the sheer curtain she had passed through. Although tinted blue, the scene on the other side was clear. Tamiel stood on a grassy meadow, his wings spread, his hands behind his back, and his foot tapping. The curtains narrowed inch by inch until they disappeared. Another mural took their place, a painting of the fence’s open gate and a narrow path leading to it from the front and rear.

  Bonnie blew a sigh. Being out of Tamiel’s sight was such a relief! Even the pain from the candlestone embedded in her body had stopped. Still, it could come roaring back at any moment. Time would tell.

  She ran a finger along the table. Filled with knots and shallow ruts, it appeared to have been made from roughly cut pine, perhaps many years ago. Who had sat here over the centuries? Prophets? Angels? Jesus himself?

  The rear door’s latch lifted. Enoch entered and slid onto the bench opposite Bonnie, leaving the door open to a view of rows of people kneeling at altars. The sounds of whispered chatter and song wafted in along with a sweet aroma—spring flowers on a dew-kissed morning. She inhaled deeply. How wonderful! The sensations of Heaven had no equal on Earth. Nothing even compared.

  With his shoulders drooping, Enoch laid his forearms on the table and stared straight at her. A two-day white stubble covered his chin and cheeks, complementing his wispy mustache and proving that he was still a living human, not a permanent resident of Heaven. “Greetings, precious one.”

  Bonnie smiled. “Greetings, good prophet. You seem down.”

  “Oh, don’t mind the sagging features of a thousands-of-years-old man. I am merely tired.”

  She covered his folded hands with her own and looked into his eyes. “It has been a long journey, hasn’t it?”

  “Indeed, but listening to the sounds of praying saints always gives me energy to continue.” He nodded toward the open door. “If only more people could get a glimpse of
Heaven, maybe they wouldn’t scorn the idea of God as they do.”

  “I’m not so sure, good prophet.” She wrinkled her nose. Should she go on? Her years in prison enduring torture proved time and again that those who scorn the truth would continue to scorn even if they walked next to those prayer benches for days on end. She sighed and added, “People choose blindness even in the brightest lights. I have seen it happen too many times.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Enoch withdrew one hand and patted hers. “Speaking of journeys, from what I have seen and been told, it seems that your journey has just begun.”

  “I’m getting that impression, but maybe you could give me more information.” Bonnie spread out her wings, hoping to block Tamiel’s view just in case he could still see inside. “Tamiel hasn’t told me much. He just said that I would start in Paradise and slowly descend into Perdition.”

  “I heard every word.” Enoch pursed his lips and spoke in a singsong cadence. “Every second of suffering will help me corrupt this world, and Elohim will have no choice but to administer justice, this time with a judgment far worse than a flood.”

  Bonnie cringed at Enoch’s impersonation, obviously intended to mock the brutal demon. “That’s exactly what Tamiel said. Were you watching from your viewing room?”

  Enoch chuckled. “I have been watching you and many of your friends almost constantly for a number of years.”

  A red-haired young woman poked her head through the doorway while holding onto the frame. “Hi, Bonnie!”

  “Karen?” Tears flooded Bonnie’s eyes. “It is you, isn’t it?”

  Karen nodded briskly, her smile broad and tight. “I can’t come in, but an angel told me you were here. I just wanted to say hi and I love you.”

  Bonnie shot to her feet, but Enoch grasped her wrist. “Reunion times will come, dear, and embraces will abound. Be at peace.”

  “I love you, too.” Bonnie bit her lip. What else was there to say?

  “Bye for now.” Karen slipped away, leaving only the sounds of prayer and singing in her wake.

  Bonnie settled back to her seat. If only she could follow Karen and live in peaceful bliss for all eternity. But no. That would have to wait. There was too much to do.

  She looked again at Enoch. “Well, if you’ve been watching me during the past fifteen years, it must have been boring. I haven’t done much of anything, and I haven’t been able to get news all that time. And now that I’m out of prison …” She glanced back toward Tamiel. “Sort of out of prison … I don’t know where Billy is or my children or my mother. I don’t know who’s alive or dead.”

  “Billy and Lauren are looking for you and are quite safe, but I have not seen Matt or Irene lately.” Enoch ran a finger along the spine of the book. “I can provide an update about others, especially concerning who has died. Some people have passed away whom you know quite well.”

  Bonnie swallowed. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “Your good friend Sir Patrick is now with us in Heaven. He died at the ripe old age of … well, many more than one thousand years. Because of the persecution inflicted by the Enforcers, Patrick’s wife, Ruth, went into hiding with their son, and no one has heard from them since. As I remember, he should be about Matt and Lauren’s age.”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “If you mean Patrick …” He gestured with his head toward the door. “I saw him in there a few moments ago.”

  Bonnie peeked that way. If Patrick were to make an appearance, that would be amazing. “I really meant Ruth and her son.”

  Enoch shook his head. “It is difficult to gain access when I have no idea where to begin looking. I do, however, have news about Shiloh and her children. They were on Second Eden, but just before the attack on the prison facility, Gabriel moved them to an Earth hiding place, telling only Elam, and he is not one to give away secrets.”

  “I’ll be sure to keep the secret, too.” Bonnie took in a breath. “Has anyone else died?”

  “Let’s see …” Enoch stroked his chin. “Derrick, the blind lad who helped you dive into the candlestone.”

  Bonnie’s heart thumped. “Not Derrick! When? How?”

  “After you last saw him in the underground laboratory, he went to live with a relative in Florida where he became interested in overseas missions. He joined a team in Indonesia shortly after you and Billy married. He hoped to help blind children learn Braille. While he was there, terrorists slaughtered the entire team and left only one witness alive, an Indonesian who told of Derrick’s fearlessness as he tried to protect one of the children. His heart for the little ones was big, indeed.”

  Bonnie lowered her head. “Yes … it was.” She ventured another peek at the door. Derrick might be close by as well.

  After a moment of silence, Enoch grasped her hand. “Let’s talk about life instead of death.”

  “Yes.” Bonnie brushed a tear away. “Let’s do that.”

  “Well, Dikaios is in the Bridgelands, living at peace while he awaits his master’s call to ride to Earth. He brought Ember with him, and they are now mates.”

  “I was wondering about the Bridgelands. I didn’t want to ask Tamiel about it, but I thought that place collapsed when the worlds merged.”

  “It did collapse.” Enoch waved a hand. “Restoring a world is a trifling matter to the Almighty.”

  “I should have known.” Bonnie gave him a prodding nod. “Please go on.”

  “Well, let’s see. Charles Hamilton’s daughter Elizabeth is in London and is doing splendidly. She gave birth to a daughter about the time you went to prison, so Jennifer would be fifteen years old now.”

  Bonnie raised her brow. “Jennifer?”

  “Yes. Does that name trouble you?”

  “Old memories.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Well, as you might expect, Jennifer is quite intelligent. Not an Ashley-type super genius, of course, but she is already attending Oxford.” Enoch raised a finger. “Speaking of Ashley, her adoptive sisters, Monique and company, are all doing well, as is Walter’s sister, Shelly.”

  “That’s wonderful to hear.” A hint of pain from the candlestone pricked Bonnie’s heart. She shifted her body to alleviate pressure. “After being locked up for so long, hearing news, whether good or bad, is like feeling a fresh breeze, but I suppose we should turn to the pressing topics—Tamiel and what he wants me to do.”

  “Indeed, but it is a foul wind rather than a fresh breeze.” Enoch released Bonnie’s hand. “Shall I remind you of Tamiel’s reason for bringing you here?”

  “No, I’m trying to get his voice out of my mind.”

  “I don’t blame you, but in order to understand why I agreed to this meeting, you must remember Tamiel’s purpose. You see, he knows I could call upon angels to rescue you from him, so he is taking a risk in bringing you to me. Yet, he also needs me to encourage you to acquiesce and go on this journey without hesitation, so he is willing to take that risk.”

  Bonnie furrowed her brow. “Are you saying I should submit to him?”

  “Not to him, but rather to the journey. What you can accomplish is too crucial to prevent.”

  “What can I accomplish?”

  Enoch tapped a finger on the table for each point. “Rescuing the lost. Healing the wounded. Saving your loved ones from destruction. Probably more.”

  “Why would Tamiel want me to do those things?”

  “Tamiel doesn’t care about the good you will do as long as you suffer along the way.”

  Bonnie laid a hand on her chest. “But when I suffer, my song suffers, and the world will rot from within.”

  “This is true, and you have the freedom to refuse. Just say the word. The candlestone will be removed, and you will go free, though Tamiel will also be free, and he will continue to wreak havoc on Earth. Such was our agreement with him before he arrived with you.”

  “Then I really do have a choice.”

>   “You do, but you need all available information before you make that choice.” Enoch fanned the pages of his book before propping it open near the back. “I suppose you were wondering why this is here.”

  She gazed at the weathered paper’s crinkled edges. “It did cross my mind.”

  “It’s to help you remember something.” He rotated the book toward her. “Do you recognize this kind of writing?”

  Bonnie peered at the page. Oddly shaped characters had been scattered haphazardly across the parchment from edge to edge, tiny drawings of a long-legged bird, a coiled snake, a palm tree, and others.

  She touched the bird. A vibration made her jerk back. Wings fluttered, and a miniature heron extended a long leg and stepped up on the page, then morphed into a tall, lanky man pacing with a smoking pipe in his mouth.

  “Abaddon’s writing,” Bonnie said, “like what I saw in his resurrection book.”

  “Correct. This is a novel from Abaddon’s library. I heard he keeps his resurrection book on a table in the main chamber.”

  “He does.” Bonnie drew a mental image of that mysterious place with its ornate table, event-predicting hourglass, and eggs on wooden stands. “Why are you reminding me of that place?”

  “To give you an idea of what you might be doing should you choose to go on this journey. There is a buzz in Heaven about using Abaddon’s Lair as a refuge of some sort. You know Abaddon’s ways, and you were able to conquer him with wisdom and courage. So perhaps you could lead refugees there, or perhaps the leader might be someone you could equip to face Abaddon. Very few in this world are as wise as you are.”

  She fingered the cover’s binding, worn and frayed. “I could do that, but what does this have to do with my choice?”

  “It’s just an example of how you might help people in a way that no one else can.”

  “But which is worse?” She let her tone grow animated. “If I choose to avoid the journey, lives might be lost. If I go on the journey and my song suffers as a result, maybe more lives will be lost because of worldwide corruption. Why should I contribute to a plan that will make the world even worse than it already is?”