chapter 10
THE ALTERED TRIBE
Timothy pulled back from the ovulum. “Sapphira’s face is so familiar, it’s like I’m seeing a fleeting image from my past, and other images fly through my mind, too, but nothing’s staying put long enough to set in a time or place.” He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward again. “Maybe if you tell me how I got here, I can start putting together the pieces.”
“All I know,” Abraham said, “is that Candle found you in the birthing garden, where our younglings are tended.”
“Birthing garden?” Timothy laughed and leaned back in his chair. “You’d better treat me like an ignorant alien. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Firsthand experience is the best teacher, even for an alien.” Assuming the village’s prayer posture, Abraham stood up and walked toward the door. “Come with me. I will show you the new Garden of Eden.”
Timothy followed, also pressing his hands together. Heading away from the center of the village, they passed only a few of the citizens, but the ones they met stopped and bowed low as the Prophet walked by. Abraham smiled and nodded at their votive gestures, but he seemed uncomfortable with the attention.
One family, after bowing low, stared at him as if awestruck, a muscular dark-skinned man, his shorter, equally dark wife, and their pale, freckled daughter, who seemed no more than twelve or thirteen.
After they passed, the mother chided the girl. “Don’t ask such questions. The Prophet’s interests lie elsewhere, and you’re too young to be anyone’s Eve.”
Abraham chuckled, but he didn’t look back. When they reached the end of the road, they walked down a gentle slope, through a sparse stand of trees, and into a low-lying field. Stretching out across at least a hundred acres, the field boasted rows and rows of plants sprouting in the damp soil. From each plant two huge leaves grew vertically out of a thick stem, the edges touching each other, much like a pair of hands propped in the village’s prayer posture. Still, the “palms” of the leaves left enough of a gap to create a pocket in between them, as if they were hiding something sacred within their dark green grasp.
The Prophet strode into the garden and stooped at the first plant, an especially large one that shifted back and forth in the cold wind. He caressed one of the leaves and gazed at Timothy. “This one is almost ready. It quickened long ago and will soon open to reveal its fruit.”
“What’s inside?” Timothy asked.
Abraham looked out over the field. “Ah!” He pointed at a group of four gardeners surrounding one of the plants. “You are about to see for yourself.”
With Timothy following, Abraham marched to the spot where a man and a woman stooped, each with a hand on a leaf, while another couple stood over them. Their four egg-shaped companions buzzed around so quickly, it was impossible to spot the eyes to see which companion belonged to whom.
“Watch,” Abraham whispered, “and listen.”
The man who stood laid a palm on the stooping man’s shoulder and spoke with oratory fervor. “It is time to bring forth what was once cast away. Let us redeem that which was considered inconvenient and make it precious. The chaff of another world is now the harvest of this realm.”
The lower couple joined hands, and each pulled on a leaf, while the other woman leaned the plant toward them. As the leaves parted, a large white seedpod tipped out into the stooping couple’s cradled arms. With trembling fingers, the woman tore its velvety coat open, revealing a female infant, pink and wiggling, yet not making a sound.
Timothy stepped closer. The baby clutched something in its tiny fingers, a glass bauble. After gently prying the orb from the child’s grip, the man set it on her forehead. The egg-shaped glass rocked back and forth, then rose an inch or two from her skin, its tiny eyes blinking.
“An ovulum,” Timothy whispered.
Abraham nodded. “Her companion. Watch what it does.”
The companion moved slowly over the baby’s body from head to toe, as if examining its newborn charge. After almost a minute, it returned to her head and nuzzled her cheek, making the little girl smile.
All four gardeners laughed, and their companions zipped around their heads as if joining their gaiety. The woman took the baby into her arms and bundled her in a thick shawl, while the other three helped her to her feet.
Abraham stepped forward. “Congratulations, my friends.”
While the mother smiled and dipped her knee, the other three bowed low. Rising again, the father set his hands in the praying posture. “We are blessed by your presence, Father.”
“The blessing is mine and your daughter’s.” Laying two fingers on the baby’s forehead, he gazed at the new parents. “Have you chosen a first-year name?”
“Sunrise,” the mother replied. “Her arrival fulfills the promise of a new day.”
Abraham looked up into the sky, his hair tossed by the cold wind. “May Sunrise bring light and warmth to all. She will dry widows’ tears and set ablaze the hearts of the despondent.” Tucking the shawl under the baby’s chin, he nudged the newborn companion playfully. “Remember these words when you choose her next name.” After swirling around the baby’s tiny nose, the companion sat on the tip, appearing to nod in the affirmative.
“The companion chooses her name?” Timothy asked.
“It suggests an appropriate name based on the child’s personality, and her parents will likely agree. A companion is so familiar with its charge, the name is always suitable.”
“I see.”
Abraham turned to the new mother. “You need not stay on my account. Your milk is likely to come in at any moment, and Sunrise will soon be hungry.”
As the four strolled through the garden, Timothy pushed his hands into his pockets and gazed at the field in new wonder. Every plant carried a developing child! And the villagers watched over them, anxiously awaiting a precious harvest! But how did the babies get there? Who could plant a child’s seed in the earth? How did they decide which couple would receive the next newborn?
“Timothy.” Abraham stopped and waved his hand across the field. “This is where Candle found you, sitting and shivering where one of the recently harvested plants had been. He helped you stagger to the village where you passed out in the street. Angel volunteered to take care of you in the sky ward, and, of course, Candle had to go along. After all, he felt as though he harvested you.”
Timothy shook his head in wonder. “I guess you know this manner of childbirth is new to me.”
“You guess correctly.” Abraham smiled at him. “This guessing is an idiom I should add to my people’s language.”
Walking toward the village, Abraham stepped into a parallel row to avoid another foursome of harvesters. “As you heard, these children are castoffs from a different world. Their lives were terminated by cruel or ignorant people, so here they are given an opportunity to finally be born and live. Yet, they have a better existence here. Even after they mature, they are so pure and innocent, if not for the cold winds, they would likely wear no clothes and no one would care. They also never age beyond their prime years. Some of the youthful adults are three times their apparent age, according to the norms of your world. They have no disease, only the occasional injury associated with work and play and …” Abraham paused and furrowed his brow. After a few seconds it seemed that he had decided not to continue.
“So that’s the reason for the sky ward,” Timothy concluded. “But it seemed like such a large hospital. I think I was the only patient.”
“You were. We have ground-based infirmaries for most injuries. The hospital in the sky is for times of war. Our enemy is unable to reach it, so it is a safe refuge for our wounded.”
“Candle mentioned times of war.” Timothy searched the sky for any sign of a bird. “Who is your enemy? The altered tribe?”
“That is the name my people gave them, but to you it probably makes them sound like mutant American Indians on the warpath.” Abraham smiled at his own attempt at humor. “Actually, I prefer to call the closest altered tribe the shadow people.”
“That conjures even stranger images. What’s a shadow person?”
“Again, it is better for you to see than for me to explain.”
Timothy nodded toward the village. “Through Enoch’s Ghost?”
“I will bring it with us. Where we are going, we will need the protection it offers. They live in a dark region filled with mysteries, one of which I would like for you to help me solve. Perhaps when I show it to you, we will also see the shadow people.”
They returned to the village and, after collecting the ovulum, traveled back to where Timothy had left Grackle. Abraham blew a shrill whistle into the air. Another whistle echoed his, and then, in the distance, a third barely audible response returned on the breeze.
“Albatross will be here soon,” Abraham said. “I assume Angel and Grackle have given you a dragon-flying lesson.”
“Oh, yes. It was quite a ride!”
Abraham revealed a hint of a smile. “Perhaps more than you hoped for?”
Timothy shook his head. “It felt good to soar through the air. I’m ready to go again.”
“Albatross will not be so gentle,” Abraham said with a frown. “The white dragons lack both cleverness and courtesy.”
A huge shadow blocked out the sun. Albatross approached, a dragon even bigger than Grackle, two seats already strapped to his back. As he landed, his spiny white tail swiped toward Timothy.
“Jump!” Abraham ordered.
Timothy leaped over the tail just in time. When the dragon settled, he spewed a frosty spray of blue ice crystals at Timothy’s feet.
“Albatross!” Abraham shook his finger. “Do you want to go back where I found you?”
The dragon shook his head and trumpeted a loud, mournful wail.
“Then you had better give us a smooth ride to Shadow’s Basin.”
Albatross shook his head again, this time trembling.
“There is nothing to fear.” Abraham nodded toward the descending sun. “As long as we have light, we will be safe.”
After spewing another spray of ice on the ground, Albatross lowered his snout, creating the stairway. A few seconds later, Abraham and Timothy were on board. Abraham stowed Enoch’s Ghost in a bag attached to his seat, and, as soon as the dragon heated his scales, they took off into the chilly breeze.
Abraham shouted above the sound of wings and wind. “It is quite late to be traveling to the basin, but we will not tarry long. We just have to be back in the air before sunset.”
“Is it more dangerous there at night?” Timothy shouted back.
“Much more so, but I also neglected to bring heavier cloaks. If we have to fly after sundown, we will be very uncomfortable, even with heated scales.”
After several exhilarating minutes, with gorgeous views of rivers meandering through dense forests and green meadows, the great white dragon carried them over a ridge, and the land descended sharply into a deep bowl-shaped valley. Mountains encircled the entire depression, making the circular dale look like a fortress. A waterfall on one side sent foaming water and chunks of ice plunging into the valley, and on the other, the river churned through a narrow gap in the cliff.
Abraham pointed at the river’s exit. “For most of the shadow people, the river is the only way to leave, and we guard its outflow. And there is another reason they hesitate to go near that gateway, which I hope to show you soon.”
With the dragon’s wing blocking his view, Timothy had to lean forward to get a better look. “Then how do the wars begin if they can’t get out?”
“They have trained some of the winged creatures to carry them, though few birds are smart or deft enough to make the journey, and, of course, dragons are too wise to be coerced into their schemes. Over time, however, even with just a few eagles and owls helping them, they can amass enough troops to attack.”
“I saw one of them earlier,” Timothy said. “A dark-breasted eagle flying near your village. Angel seemed concerned about it.”
“She was wise to be concerned. That dark spot on the eagle’s breast was a shadow person riding underneath so he could avoid the sunlight. Although my people are now aware of these warning signs, for a long time, they were too naïve to suspect danger, and they tended to be unprepared, so we suffered great losses. In recent times, however, I have managed to convince them to be more vigilant. The altered tribes still perpetrate small raids, but our men have learned to fight them off. That is likely the reason we have not had a large war in three years. Still, the occasional ambush can catch our people off guard.”
As the dragon banked to one side, Timothy leaned into the turn. “What do they want? Your land? Your birthing field?”
“Something far more valuable, which I will explain when we arrive.”
A shrill whistle sounded from behind them. Grackle, his wings beating furiously, closed in. Angel waved a red flag as she pulled her dragon alongside Albatross. “Father!” she shouted. “An altered one has taken my Adam’s companion! He escaped under an eagle!”
Abraham’s face blazed red. “The murderer has returned for his spoils, has he?”
“Yes!” she cried, tucking the flag under her seat. “I must have it back!”
Abraham dug his heels into the white dragon’s side. “Albatross! Take me to the falls glade. I will confront them myself!”
As the white dragon swerved downward, Angel caught up again. “I’m coming with you!”
Abraham pointed back toward the village. “Candle and Listener need you. Would you leave them without consolation?”
She drew a club from behind her seat. “Candle and Listener need their father’s memory. I have to retrieve it at all costs.”
Abraham sighed. “Very well. You may follow.” He slapped his dragon’s scales. “Make haste, Albatross! Time is of the essence!”
The dragon dove toward the waterfall side of the valley, descending so quickly, Timothy lifted off his seat. Tightening his belt with cold, stiff fingers, he breathed in the smoke-tinged air. Something below was burning, wood mixed with an oily fuel.
Albatross followed the river toward the waterfall and landed near the shore, bumping his undersides in the sand as his legs scrambled to find good footing. When he finally came to a stop, Abraham slid off his flank and waved for Angel and Grackle to join him. Since the falls spilled into the river only paces away, the roar of tumbling water filled the air, accentuated by random splashes as ice boulders tumbled from the ridge, masking every other sound.
Timothy copied Abraham’s quick dismount, and, seconds later, Grackle landed abreast of the white dragon. Wielding her club, Angel hopped to the sand and rushed into Abraham’s embrace. “Father! I cannot bear it! Without my Adam’s companion, we will lose his memory forever!”
While Angel’s little companion caressed her tear-streaked face, Abraham hugged her close. “Dragon was a great man,” he said. “He surely lived up to the courage behind his name. We will find the murderer and restore your Adam’s presence to your children. It is our only hope to bring Dragon back to the living.”
“But will it ever happen?” Angel pulled back and gazed into Abraham’s eyes. “The others in my village fear to raise their laments above a whisper, but you know the separated companions have been little more than painful reminders. I have hung on to this hope for almost three years, but no one has yet returned from the dead, at least none that I can remember.”
Abraham clasped her shoulders. “We await the prophecy. I cannot promise that even that will bring back our fallen warriors, but until then, you have the reminder of your Adam’s love.”
Closing her eyes, Angel shook her head. “A reminder will not teach Candle how to sharpen an axe or build a home, nor will it provide Listener the peace and joy of a masculine presence.” Opening her eyes again, she continued, her voice breaking. “In the evenings, it will not play sparkles during twin moons … or sing hymns in the firelight. On the coldest nights it will not wrap me in strong arms and keep me warm.” She laid her cheek on his shoulder and wept bitterly.
Abraham patted her on the back and glanced at Timothy. “My people know so little heartache, when it comes, it devastates them. The loss of a beloved mate she slept beside every night for over one hundred years nearly killed her, and now the loss of his symbolic presence will likely tear her apart as well.”
Wiping a tear from his own eye, Timothy nodded. “I don’t know why, but I share her pain. It’s like I’ve lost someone close, too, but I have no idea who it is.”
“Perhaps we can soon find the answers you seek, but for now” Abraham jerked his head toward the trees on the other side of the river. “I saw something.”
Timothy pointed. “There! Something dark. A moving shadow.”
Angel wrung the club with her fingers and tromped into the flowing water. “An altered one!”
Just as Timothy jumped in the shallows to stop her, the companion zoomed in front of her eyes and flashed red.
Angel halted. As she stood knee-deep in the icy water, she sagged her shoulders. “You’re right. It is foolish to take the lead when the Prophet is here.”
Abraham waded in and took her club. “We will go together.” As he scanned the churning river, an ice boulder tumbled through the current and smashed into an underwater stone, cleaving it in two. The broken halves rushed downstream, spinning in separate eddies.
“We had better ride the dragons across,” Abraham said.
They waded back and remounted the dragons. With his wings beating the misty air, Albatross bounded to a large stone protruding from the river, then leaped again to the opposite shore. Grackle flew gracefully across, spanning the hundred-foot-wide river without a break. Abraham leaped down, pulled Enoch’s Ghost from the bag, and strode into the woods, followed by Timothy and Angel.
With the sun well behind the ridge and the tree canopy blocking ambient light, the landscape grew darker as they penetrated the forest’s boundary. After handing Timothy the club, Abraham cradled the ovulum in his hands. As it began to glow scarlet, he peered into the glass. “We have company,” he said. “Four … no … five of the shadow people.”
“Will they attack?” Timothy asked.
“Only by stealth or if they perceive they have a strong advantage. They are cowards by nature, and few will come out of hiding unless their numbers are far greater than those of their enemies.” He pulled the ovulum closer. “Aha! Our search has been blessed. I see the murderer!”
“How can you tell?” Timothy tried to look into the ovulum. “I don’t see anything.”
“He carries the evidence. It shines against his blackness.”
Timothy raised the club. “What do we do?”
“Here. Take the ovulum.” Abraham handed it to Timothy, then charged ahead and dove on the ground, his arms grasping at the forest’s failing shadows. Rising to his knees, he wrestled a dark form and dashed it against the leafy floor.
“Help!” Angel fell to the ground. Two black hands latched on to her ankle and dragged her toward a thicket. She grasped a loose root and kicked against the arms, but her tightened fingers slid down the bark, stripping it bare.
Setting down the ovulum, Timothy lunged headfirst into the fray and slid into Angel’s attackers. He yanked their arms away from her while beating their heads with the club. The two assailants seemed rubbery in his hands. They slipped from his grasp, squeaking and moaning as they melded into the darkest shadows and disappeared.
Timothy pulled Angel to her knees and gently brushed leaves from her jacket and hair. “Are you all right?”
She spat out a leaf and nodded. “I think so.”
After picking up Enoch’s Ghost, Timothy combed his fingers through her tangled hair, loosening a clump of dirt. “Good. I’d hate to see anything happen”
“Well done!” Abraham called.
Timothy smiled and looked his way. The Prophet stood upright with his foot pinning a human-shaped shadow. He turned toward his captive and reached out his hand. “Now give it to me!”
The shadow, trembling under Abraham’s grinding foot, stretched out a long, spindly arm, jet black and flat as a ribbon. In its blunt hand it displayed an ovulum, much smaller than Enoch’s Ghost, but slightly larger than Angel’s companion.
Abraham snatched it away. “Did you slay one of my people?”
A low clicking sound rose from the dark form’s head.
“You just found it lying on the ground?” Abraham pointed at the larger ovulum in Timothy’s hand. “If Enoch judges you guilty, I will cast you into the light tunnel.”
The shadow stiffened. More clicks sounded from his imperceptible mouth, higher pitched and faster.
“Bring me Enoch’s Ghost,” Abraham said, extending his hand.
Timothy rushed over and set the ovulum in Abraham’s palm, while the shadow thrashed under his crushing foot. “Settle down,” Abraham ordered, “or I will plant my foot in your face!”
When his prisoner quieted, Abraham leaned over and set Enoch’s Ghost on its chest. As the ovulum began to glow with white light, a flood of clicks erupted. The light covered the shadow, melting away its black shroud. A white skeleton appeared in its place, a two-dimensional X-ray without depth or contrast, exposing thin strands that looked more like paper than bone.
At the center of its spidery ribcage, a red light, the size of a toddler’s fist, pulsed in an even rhythm.
Abraham grabbed the ovulum, and the prisoner returned to its shadowy state. He shook his fist at the dark form. “You have human life energy. You must have killed Dragon.”
New clicks rose, this time with a questioning inflection.
“Because you came back for his companion. That’s how I know.” Abraham glanced around. “He’s stalling for time. The others must have gone for help.” Grabbing the shadow’s foot, he stomped toward the river, dragging the struggling creature behind him. “Hurry. Evening is upon us. Until Pegasus appears over the ridge, we are vulnerable.”
Timothy and Angel followed. “Pegasus?” Timothy asked. “The winged horse?”
“Pegasus is First Moon tonight,” Angel replied, jogging to keep up. “Where have you seen a winged horse?”
“I haven’t seen one.” As they neared the river, Timothy gazed at Angel. Tears gleamed in her eyes—searching, forlorn, desperate. He wanted to say more … offer comfort, set her free from the pain that ripped through her heart. Yet, seeing her suffering again aroused his own submerged pain. Could it be the absence of a long-time mate, his Eve?
When they arrived at the waiting dragons, Abraham climbed Albatross’s neck, still dragging the shadow creature. “Ride with Angel,” he said to Timothy. “I must tie this scoundrel to my other seat.”
“Father!” Angel rose up on tiptoes, shouting over the waterfall’s roar. “Do you still have the companion?”
“One moment!” Abraham twisted the strap and fastened the shadow to the rear seat. Reaching into a pocket, he retrieved the smaller ovulum and handed it down to her.
A radiant smile lit up her face. She pressed the little egg against her chest before tucking it away under her jacket.
Abraham jumped into his pilot’s chair and waved his hand. “Hurry! The shadow people are massing at the forest edge!” He glanced up at the purple sky just over the ridge. “We have only seconds!”
Timothy and Angel scrambled up Grackle’s long neck and threw themselves into their seats. “Good thing you brought two!” he shouted, his arms flying as he buckled himself in.
“Candle strapped them on.” She tightened her belt with a quick jerk. “He wanted to come with me.”
A flood of darkness swarmed along the sand, like oil streaming on water, filling the gap between the forest and the dragons.
Angel slapped Grackle’s neck. “Fly! Now!”
Just as the black flood reached the dragon’s claws, Grackle launched into the sky. Serpent-like fingers jumped from the sand, but too late to catch the purple dragon.
Albatross beat his wings, but only rose a foot or two. Three dark limbs stretched between him and the beach as tight bands snaked around his back leg.
“Angel!” Timothy called, pointing down. “Look!”
Angel swung around and kicked Grackle’s left flank. “Dive!” she ordered. Grackle banked hard and swooped. Angel whistled and pointed at the struggling dragon’s leg. “Ice those vermin!”
As Abraham swatted Albatross’s side, the dragon’s wings faltered. His huge body edged closer and closer to the mass of outstretched arms. Grackle spewed a thin beam of blue light. The beam solidified into a streak of ice that pierced the bands holding the white dragon and spread a frosty coat over the dismembered bodies.
Albatross shot away. Grackle pulled up hard, narrowly avoiding the grasping black arms. After a few seconds, both dragons soared above the wiggling sea of shadows.
Now safe in the sky, Timothy bundled his jacket close and shivered. It was no wonder. With the wind once again assaulting his face, even colder now with the loss of sunshine, anyone would shiver. Yet, the tremors penetrated far more deeply than a mere chill could reach. Could it be fear?
As he gazed at Angel’s back, her long hair beat with the wind, too dark now to see its Nordic highlights, but as they rose above the ridge, Pegasus coated her frame in its creamy glow and painted her locks in gold.
He shivered again. This wasn’t fear. It was thrill—the thrill of danger and rescue, the exhilaration of saving a life and restoring a slender slice of comfort to a bereaved widow. An even deeper passion had awakened, and it stirred his heart. The beautiful woman sitting only a few inches away, bobbing up and down as she guided Grackle close to Albatross, flashed an image in his mind, another light-haired lady whose absence brought the coldest chill yet. But who was she? Who was this fleeting image, one of the many haunting portraits that streamed chaotically through his mind?
Someone was definitely missing. His heart and soul had been torn away. As the two dragons flew side by side in the frosty heavens, the scene looked all too familiar. But why? Now, soaring far above danger and safe from its grasp, the thrill of rescue streamed away, and the sense of loss replaced it as grief flooded his heart.
A sudden drop shook him back to reality. Grackle descended, following Abraham and Albatross as they headed toward the river’s outlet, now barely visible in the moon’s glow. Down in the valley, a bright light filtered through a dense clump of trees, interrupting evening’s dark curtain.
Abraham guided Albatross toward the light, and Angel followed, both dragons circling once before landing near the river’s edge just outside of the light-emitting woods.
“The shadow people should not trouble us here,” Abraham said, untying his prisoner. With his hand around the altered one’s throat, the Prophet seemed to be dragging along an animated cardboard cutout as it thrashed in his grip, clicking and squeaking.
After Angel dismounted, Timothy scrambled down Grackle’s outstretched neck. “What is this place?” he asked.
“The entrance to the light tunnel.” Abraham nodded toward the forest. “I mentioned that I wanted to show you a mystery, and now that we have this murderer to take care of, I can demonstrate its unusual properties.”
“Is this an execution?” Timothy asked.
“In a manner of speaking.” Abraham raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
Timothy spread out his hands. “Don’t you have trials here? Witnesses? Testimony?”
“I am the judge in this world, and this creature has borne witness against himself.” Abraham lifted the shadow person off the ground, letting his feet thrash as he clicked madly. “We are shooting a rabid dog. We are clubbing a viper. There is no prison that can hold him, and once he escaped, he would kill again. Should I allow this murderer to continue to threaten my people?”
Timothy dug his hands into his pockets. “I suppose you’re right. But what about his soul? Does he have an eternity?”
“He sold his soul. They all sold their souls at another time and place when they taught their followers the ways of the hypocrites. They were the blind leading the blind, and they have fallen into this pit. Now, they believe if they possess a companion, they will regain what they forfeited, but they have to drain a life force to snatch it away.”
Albatross whistled a mournful tune, and Grackle joined in. Angel rubbed the purple dragon’s scales and looked at Abraham. “The dragons fear this place, Father. Shall I command them to fly and return later?”
He shook his head. “They will be safe here. The shadows fear the light.”
Angel stroked each dragon’s neck and whistled a few short bursts. They nodded and huddled close together.
Still dragging the condemned shadow, Abraham strode away from the river’s edge, sweeping aside branches as he plunged into the light-flooded woods.
Timothy walked a pace or two ahead of Angel. Even when he slowed to allow her to walk abreast, she slowed, too, and stayed at his heels. He reached back and took her hand. “Let me help you.”
She pulled her hand away. “You are not my Adam.”
“We are not in the village,” he said, reaching again. “No one will be offended.”
Sliding her hand into his, she allowed him to pull her to his side, but she kept her gaze straight ahead as they forged on through the woods.
Well inside the forest, a brilliant shaft of light poured into a clearing from a hole in a cliff, the high ridge that circumvented the home of the shadow people. Keeping the prisoner behind him, Abraham approached the tunnel from one side and stood near the entrance. “Enoch’s Ghost awakens me every dawn with a hymn,” he said to Timothy, “and he speaks of this place. Perhaps after I sing it, you will be able to help me understand its meaning.” Pursing his lips, he sang, this time in a lower, smoother voice than before.
When souls are lost on darkest paths,
When fathers weep and mothers wail,
No salve can cool the fevered wound,
No solace calms the tossed travail.
A tale of hearts I tell in twos,
By inward scales their souls are weighed,
For one is brazen, shameless, proud,
The other gentle, wandering, strayed.
The rebel’s heart is veiled within,
With stubborn pride rejecting sight.
Her calloused eyes perceive no flaws,
For darkness blends them with the night.
The wayward heart will seek the light,
But finds a counterfeit instead,
And celebrates the knowledge found
In human wisdom’s lofty head.
O who can rescue scarlet souls
Who shake the fist or wander blind?
The souls they forfeit, gems so rare,
Are broken glass to darkened minds.
A stranger comes, a man who weeps
A father’s tears for loved ones lost.
He hearkens from a land unknown
In search of restoration’s cost.
In desperation’s hope he calls,
“A soul to trade, a soul to sell,”
For better one to suffer flames
Than daughters loved to burn in Hell.
A path of light within the rock
Will purge all falsehood from within
And bring to light the hidden truths,
The love ignited once again.
The tunnel leads a warrior chief,
A youth with mystery in his eyes,
With flames he walks to burn the chaff.
A child he leads to silence lies.
And once the hearts of gold he trains
Are drawn to lights of holy depth,
Then wielding swords they journey where
Corruption’s harvest draws its breath.
As he lengthened the final word and faded the tune, Abraham closed his eyes, exhaling dramatically. Everyone stayed silent. Even the dark prisoner had stopped jerking. Finally, Abraham opened his eyes again and looked at Timothy expectantly. “Any thoughts?”
“Many.” Timothy laid a hand on his head. “So many, I think my brain is about to explode.”
Angel pushed her hand into Timothy’s hair and pressed down on his scalp.
“It’s just an idiom,” Timothy explained. “My brain isn’t going to explode.”
“I know,” she said, smiling. “I guess I’m getting up to snuff with your idioms.”
Abraham lifted his prisoner higher. “Let me take care of this viper, and we’ll talk.” He nodded toward Angel. “May I have the companion?”
Angel unzipped her jacket a few inches, reached underneath, and withdrew the glassy egg. Gazing at it as she handed it to the Prophet, she said, “Its light and eyes are gone.” Tears tracked down her cheeks as she strained to finish. “I have never seen a companion restored from this state.”
“We shall see.” Abraham took the companion and pushed it against the prisoner’s chest. As he walked into the shaft of light at the mouth of the tunnel, the shadow figure in his grip thrashed once again. He raised the creature high and let the rays of light bathe its shadowy form. With a crackling sound, the edges of its frame sizzled and slowly disintegrated. Sparks ate toward its midsection and grew brighter while Abraham kept the companion pressed against its pulsing red heart. As its body disappeared, its flat white bones dangled from its frame, some breaking and dropping to the ground.
Finally, when the popping sparks converged on the heart, a tiny explosion erupted, sending a pulse of energy into the companion. As the prisoner’s remaining bones broke apart and fell from Abraham’s grip, an aura expanded from the ovulum. He stepped out of the light and extended the glowing egg in his open palm. “The companion is restored, precious Angel. It is not the same as having your Adam, but its presence will keep his memory alive.”
When Angel reached for the companion, it lifted off Abraham’s palm and floated toward Timothy. As it hovered a few inches in front of his face, its eyes gazed at him, unblinking. Then, after making three orbits around his head, it settled just above his shoulder and stayed there.
Abraham stared at Timothy, then at Angel. Timothy cocked his head, trying to see the companion, but could only get a glimpse of the semitransparent egg as it floated back and forth with his every movement.
“Remarkable!” Abraham set his hands on his hips. “I have never seen a companion take on a new charge. This is surely unexpected.”
Angel drew close to Timothy and watched the ovulum. “But it’s not unreasonable. Besides you, good prophet, we have never known anyone of our race who lacked a companion, so this opportunity has never arisen.”
“What is it doing?” Timothy asked. “It feels like its tickling the inside of my head.”
Angel laughed gently. “It is petting your soul with its soft fingers.”
“That is how it probes your mind,” Abraham explained. “It makes a spiritual attachment with you so it can be a helper in times of need.”
“Father!” Angel cried, lifting a hand to her mouth. “Could it be?”
Abraham squinted at her. “What is it, my child?”
Lowering her hand slowly, she gazed at the reborn companion. “Since Timothy is now attached to Dragon’s companion, could he be my new Adam?”