chapter 16
HEAVEN’S SHIELD
Angel spun away from Timothy and Abraham. Stiffening her body, she spoke into the air, directing her speech to no one in particular. “The law is clear about this, is it not?”
Abraham glanced at Timothy before focusing on Angel again. “When two companions show affinity, we know the man and woman are to join as one, but I don’t know if that union between companions survives your Adam’s death. It seems clear that both of you are eligible, but I will have to give it some thought.”
With a drop of sweat trickling down his back, Timothy looked at Abraham. “Uh … Father, I think we are straying from our purpose, aren’t we?”
“It depends on which purpose you’re referring to.” Abraham held out his hand for Angel. “My dear lady, your desire to follow our statutes is laudable, but this man is not yet comfortable with them.”
Angel turned toward him, her head drooping slightly and her hands folded at her waist. “I understand. I assumed too much. Perhaps I do not please his eyes.”
“No!” Timothy said, lifting a hand. “That’s not it! You do please my eyes. I mean …” He stared at her. What did he mean? She was definitely beautiful, but her straightforward manner seemed so odd. And how could he even consider a marriage arrangement when he wasn’t completely sure of his own marital status? He let out a sigh and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
A soft voice whispered in his mind. Wait for the light. Then you will understand.
Timothy winced and stared at Abraham. “Wait for the light? What do you mean?”
“Wait for the light?” Abraham raised a finger. “Ah! Your companion must have spoken to you.”
Tilting his head to the side, Timothy rubbed his ear. “I think you’re right. This is going to be hard to get used to.”
Abraham walked into the shaft of radiance. “I hoped to see if the tunnel would restore your memory, and your companion has confirmed my thinking. Not only that, this gives us the opportunity to defer this rather awkward legal matter to another time.” He waved toward the mouth of the tunnel. “Come. There will be pain, but it is the pain of relief, the massaging of inflamed memories.”
Timothy leaned toward the light. “That sounds bad enough.”
Taking Timothy’s wrist, Abraham guided him closer. “It is frightening, to be sure, but you will come out refreshed and renewed, and if you go a second time, there will be no discomfort at all. All of my people have bathed in its cleansing flow; it is a rite of passage of sorts for our young people when they come of age.”
Glancing down at the murderer’s bones, Timothy edged into the tunnel’s beam, his companion hovering near his chin. The light tingled at first, raising an ocean of goose bumps. Then, the tingles seemed to seep into his mind. Every thought, every inkling of brain activity, raised a tiny jolt, like touching a low-voltage fence. Trying to ease the pain, he relaxed his thoughts, and it seemed that the fingers probed deeper, reaching far within and grasping for long-lost memories. One of the fingers pulled back, as if dragging something up to the forefront of his mind.
A memory streamed into his inner vision—alive, vivid—a movie that enveloped his thoughts and swept away all else. Voices accompanied the images, and he felt himself melding into the body of one of the players on the screen.
With the tires popping against gravel on the sloped mountain road, Timothy raised his voice as he swung the car into the final bend. “Are you sure of the number? I stopped counting after about four thousand years.”
“You’re such a romantic!” Hannah scooted close and snuggled. “We passed through our covenant veil exactly” She paused, her brow furrowing deeply. “Something’s wrong.”
Timothy pressed the brake and slowed to a crawl, looking for any sign of trouble in the trees that lined the road on both sides. “What do you mean?”
“It’s so strange.” She clutched his arm tightly. “I … I sense danger. I have never felt this way in human form, but it’s so strong. I’m sure of it.”
He stopped the car. “Then we will trust what you feel.” Opening the door quietly and getting out, he whispered, “Let’s walk through the woods and come up from the back.” His gentle breath raised puffs of white in the cold night air.
She slid out through the driver’s side. Leaving the door open, they padded through the sparse forest between the road and their home. When the dark house came into view, they stopped. “No lights,” Timothy said, his voice barely a wisp.
“Whose car is that?” Hannah asked.
“Where?”
She pointed. “Behind the rear window. Next to the propane tank.”
“I see it now. Not a normal place to park, is it?”
“We wouldn’t have seen it if we had come in from the front.”
As they sneaked around the side, Hannah’s grip tightened around Timothy’s arm, but she said nothing. Shadows moved about within the house, a profile sweeping past the window, then another. Timothy bent down and removed his shoes. Hannah followed suit.
“Stay here,” he whispered.
Her steely eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Would you leave a warrior behind when going to battle?”
He sighed and gestured with his head. “Come on.”
Since the chilly breeze masked their barefooted steps, they hurried to the front door and stooped, one at each side. Timothy sniffed and raised his brow. Gasoline fumes tinged the air. Hannah inhaled, then pinched her nose and nodded.
Rising slowly with his back to the wall, Timothy twisted his body and peeked in the living room window. Two hunched figures stared out, apparently unaware of his presence. He gazed past them, searching for any sign of Ashley. Nothing stirred.
He slid back down and showed her two fingers, then punched them with his fist. She nodded, biting her lip. Next, he kissed his fingers, pressed his hands together, and leaned his head against them, symbolizing his assumption that Ashley was asleep. She nodded again, but this time fear widened her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, he reached for the knob and turned it slowly. Giving Hannah a three count with his fingers, he threw the door open and charged inside. As he rushed for the prowlers, he grabbed an aluminum bat he kept in a corner. With a mighty swing, he lunged toward one of the dark forms, and Hannah leaped for the other, but after a metal-on-metal clang, his bat suddenly felt light as it swept through empty air. Somehow it had been cut off near the handle.
While Hannah scratched and clawed at her victim, a sharp blow to the chin knocked Timothy backwards. He rolled and jumped to his feet, ducking under a swinging object just in time. The moonlight reflected on a metal blade as it swept past. Staying low, he landed a punch that sent the attacking shadow crashing into a table. Breaking glass joined the cacophony of gasps and grunts. When his victim lay motionless on the floor, he grabbed the other prowler’s hair and pulled as hard as he could, dragging him away from his wife.
Hannah rose to her knees. Something small lay limp over her fingers. “A doll!” she cried out. “What did you do with my daughter?”
His clothes reeking with the odor of gasoline, Timothy jerked the man to his feet and slapped at a light switch, but the lamps stayed dark. He slammed the man’s head against the wall, and as he crumpled to the floor, he grabbed Hannah’s hand. Yanking open a bureau drawer, he snatched up a flashlight and flicked it on. They hustled together to a room down the hall where a toddler’s crib sat empty near the back window. He threw open the closet door and guided the flashlight’s beam inside. Nothing but hanging clothes and three pairs of shoes.
They dashed to an adjacent room and found another empty bed. An open window poured cold air through flapping curtains.
Still holding Hannah’s hand, Timothy stomped back toward the living room. “Where is my daughter?” he shouted.
A car engine roared to life. Tires spun away, shooting gravel that pecked against the back window.
The odor of gas again assaulted his nose. He pointed the beam at the front door. “Run!”
A flash of light blinded him, and a rush of heat flooded his skin, burning torture that ripped through his limbs, torso, and face. A sensation of melting collapsed his legs, and he dropped to his knees. All he could see was his fiery hand clutching Hannah’s and her pleading, pain-struck eyes. As flames leaped all around, he pulled her close, and they melded into a single human torch.
Timothy stepped out of the shaft of light and toppled over, gasping for breath as he scratched the ground with both hands. “Hannah!” he wailed. “Oh, my darling Hannah! Why couldn’t I stop those murderers?” Weep, a gentle voice whispered in his mind. Cry out to your heavenly Father, and he will soothe your soul.
Timothy sobbed, clutching dirt. He threw it to the side and clutched more handfuls. “I failed you! I couldn’t keep you or Ashley safe!”
A hand rested on each of his shoulders, one a strong grasp and the other a light touch.
“He has lost his Eve?” a tender voice asked.
“No doubt Hannah was as dear to his heart as Dragon was to yours.”
“Who is Ashley?”
“A daughter, perhaps. … Yes, that would make sense, if he is here to fulfill the prophecy.”
Timothy spread out his palms and pushed away from the ground. The two hands helped him sit upright. Angel stood and, after unzipping her jacket, mopped his brow and cheeks with the tail of her shirt.
He sniffed and cleared his throat. His voice cracked with every word. “I apologize … for my outburst.”
Angel knelt again at his side. “No need for apologies. Your love is a beautiful gift to behold. I know your passion and loss all too well.”
“The tunnel of light,” Abraham explained, “enflames the passions of your heart. Since you grieve, your laments have become cries that make the angels in Heaven weep. If you feel love, then it becomes so overwhelming, even the shadow people are beautiful in your sight, and those you already loved are the greatest treasures in all Eden.”
Timothy nodded. “I know what you mean. My heart hurts so much, I just want to die.” He took Angel’s hand and pulled her close, then put an arm around Abraham. “But my love for both of you is so strong, I want to stay here forever.”
Abraham patted him on the chest. “It seems that our heavenly Father has brought you here to live a new life, perhaps better than the one you had before, much like the children who sojourn here.”
Angel nuzzled his arm. “We have each risen from the dead. Though the longing for your Eve may never pass, I will do my best to ease your pain.”
Abraham reached over Timothy’s shoulder and gently caressed Angel’s cheek. “While emotions are running rampant, there is danger in making hasty decisions.” He rose and extended a hand to each of them. “Let us finish what we have come to do, and we will discuss your potential union tomorrow.”
“As you wish, Father.” Angel bowed her head and edged away from Timothy, smiling.
“What is left here to do?” Timothy asked.
Abraham tapped a finger on his head. “Do you think that your memories are fully restored?”
“It’s hard to know for certain.” Timothy laid a hand on his head. “My memories are so many, it might take time to sort them all out and piece them back together.”
“If you are the prophetic stranger who weeps, then it appears that you have two daughters, one who is rebellious and one who is lost in some sense, a wanderer.”
Timothy angled his head upward. “My memory of my daughter Ashley is clear. If she and her grandfather escaped the slayers, she might still be alive.”
Abraham’s brow arched. “Slayers, you say?”
“Dragon slayers. They were trying to kill Hannah and me, because we were once dragons.”
Angel gasped but quickly stifled it.
Abraham stroked his chin. “Go on, Timothy. This is very interesting. What was your dragon name?”
“Makaidos. My mate’s name was Thigocia, before she became Hannah.”
“Makaidos and Thigocia?” Angel repeated. “You were named after stars?”
Abraham raised his finger, silencing her. She folded her hands in front of her waist and lowered her head.
“Stars?” Timothy glanced back and forth between Abraham and Angel. “What does she mean?”
“I will explain at another time. Did you have any dragon daughters who might be part of the prophecy?”
“My firstborn daughter, Roxil, was rebellious, but she was killed by the same slayers centuries ago. Before I died, I heard that Hartanna, another dragon daughter of mine, was still alive, but she was devoted to me in every way. I also had a son, Gabriel, who has been missing for many years, but I don’t see how I could have another living daughter who would be considered rebellious.”
“I see,” Abraham said slowly. “You were dead, but now you live. Perhaps Roxil has found the grace to live again as well.” He leaned close and whispered softly, “And let us remember that Hannah is not exempt from such a miracle.”
Timothy nodded. “I understand. As you said, it is unwise to be hasty.”
Clapping his hands, Abraham continued. “So, tell us more about your untimely death.”
“This might sound crazy, but after I died the first time …” Timothy paused and smiled, waiting for a response to his odd statement.
“How many times have you died?” Angel asked.
He held up two fingers. “After the first time, Roxil and I built a village called Dragons’ Rest, an afterlife haven, of sorts, for slain dragons. I left that place and was restored to Earth as a human. I never learned what happened to her or to Dragons’ Rest.”
Angel clutched Abraham’s sleeve. “Father, would Enoch’s Ghost know?”
“Perhaps.” Abraham leaned into the shaft of light. “But the tunnel might very well tell us now.”
Timothy leaned in with him. “How so?”
“I have ventured inside. The light is so brilliant, even when I close my eyes, it blinds me. I had to stagger out and feel my way to Albatross. I couldn’t see for hours. So I came back wearing a thick, dark garment wrapped around my eyes. Even then, the light was blinding, but I came to a wall that felt as smooth as a crystalline face. When I touched it, I heard a quiet female voice that said, ‘What do you seek, dear Abraham?’
“I didn’t know what to ask, so I just blurted out, ‘Who are you?’
“Gentle laughter filled her voice. She said, ‘I am an Oracle of Fire. I reside at Heaven’s altar.’
“‘If you are an oracle,’ I said, ‘Can you tell me the meaning of Enoch’s hymn?’
“‘The one he sings at dawn?’ she asked.
“Of course, I was thrilled that she knew the hymn. ‘Yes! Yes!’ I shouted.
“Her gentle laugh filled the tunnel again and echoed all around. ‘The meaning is reserved for the two men who will come to fulfill it.’
“I bowed and backed away, longing to look upon her, knowing that her radiant beauty must have been beyond compare. I assumed that gazing upon her would likely burn holes in my eyes forever, but the memory of her glory would be worth the pain.”
“But you can see,” Timothy said. “What happened?”
Abraham sighed. “As I was taking the garment off, I stumbled and hit my head on the wall. That blow knocked some sense into me, so I bade farewell to the oracle and hurried out.”
Timothy pointed at himself. “So you want me to go in there and see if she’ll tell me the meaning of the hymn.”
“Exactly. The very reason I brought you here.”
Timothy unzipped his jacket, raised it above his head and over his companion, and rezipped it. “Will that be enough?”
“You will soon find out.”
Timothy felt a hand taking his, and he followed its lead. “I will guide you to the entrance,” Abraham said, his voice muffled as it passed through the jacket, “then you will have to feel for the walls. The way is straight, and the path is narrow. You shouldn’t find any obstacles.”
Another hand rested on his elbowAngel’s now-familiar touch. “I will stay at your side as long as I can and meet you on your way out.”
Ashley sat up and zipped her jacket. “Thank you,” she said, nodding at Sapphira and Karen. She swiveled her head toward Roxil. “And thank you for the dry clothes.”
“It was the least I could do.” Roxil bowed her head low. “I was most impressed by your sacrificial act, and I apologize for my initial harsh reaction.”
Ashley reached for Sapphira. “Maybe my sister will offer us a ride out of here.”
“What’s that on your hand?” Sapphira pulled Ashley to her feet and turned her palm up. “Look!”
Ashley touched the edge of a wound on her palm, a rough hole with a copper colored stain encircling it. Blood oozed from the exposed muscle under the punctured skin. “My penny!” she whispered.
Karen caressed the heel of Ashley’s hand. “That looks awful! Does it hurt?”
“Yeah. A lot.”
“We don’t have any antiseptic,” Karen said, “but maybe we can make a bandage.”
“I don’t want a bandage.” Ashley dug into her pocket, withdrew the remaining dime and penny, and displayed them in her other palm. “I feel like I’m supposed to keep the wound in the light, but I’m not sure why.”
Sapphira rolled Ashley’s fingers over the coins. “Jehovah reveals mysteries only at the proper time and in the proper place. For now, we should go and see if Walter and Gabriel need help.”
Ashley gazed at the petite hands that clasped her fingers, then let her eyes connect with Sapphira’s sparkling blue orbs. Something deep within this amazing woman poured forth—compassionate honesty, uncompromising virtue, steadfast purpose. Nearly as old as the Earth itself, yet somehow brimming with tender youthfulness, she could be trusted without reservation.
Ashley sighed. So what did she mean when she said she saw a dragon inside me?
“Is something wrong?” Sapphira asked, laying a tender hand on Ashley’s brow. “Your mind seems so far away.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Ashley shook her head and pulled back. “I need to contact Larry and see where the guys are.” She tapped her jaw and looked up at the gray sky above the top of the pit. “Larry, can you hear me?”
Only a buzz of static responded.
“Larry?”
Again, only static.
Ashley probed for the tooth transmitter with her tongue. “Either that blast from Excalibur fried my transmitter, or Larry’s run out of power.”
“Maybe we can get a better signal up top,” Karen said.
“Possibly.” Ashley scanned the area. “It looks like we’re back in the mobility room. Let’s get some of the gravity bricks, at least one of each color besides the one I already picked up. I have an idea.”
“There should be a manual override switch on the end of the bricks,” Sapphira said. “That will turn on the light.”
After finding Ashley’s shoulder bag, Sapphira and Karen rummaged through the scattered debris until they located the remaining six types of bricks and piled them in the bag.
Ashley set a hand on Karen’s shoulder. “Help me climb on Roxil, please.”
Roxil lowered her head to the ground, making her neck a stairway to her back. “I have never flown with human passengers, and our ascent will have to be almost vertical, so be prepared for a rough ride.”
Sapphira, carrying the bag of bricks, leaned down and kissed Roxil’s cheek. “I trust you completely.”
A plume of sparks flew from the dragon’s nostrils. “Neither your trust nor your kiss will make me fly any better.”
Sapphira smiled, and her voice lilted like a song. “On the contrary, I think they will.”
Roxil huffed another stream of sparks. “You humans are such a mystery.”
With Ashley holding onto Sapphira’s shoulders and Karen supporting Ashley from behind, the three walked up Roxil’s neck and seated themselves on her back, Karen at the front and Sapphira at the rear holding the bag in her lap.
As Roxil rose to her haunches, Ashley leaned back toward Sapphira. “Ever flown before?”
“Not on a dragon. I flew pretty high over a snake-infested swamp one time, but I’ll have to tell you that story later.”
Ashley looped her arms over the spine in front of her and held on tightly. “Then hang on to me. Dragon riding is pretty rough even without a vertical climb.”
Roxil beat her wings and lifted off the ground, pointing almost straight up to avoid the mobility room walls. Flying in an upward spiral, she rose faster and faster, as if scaling the old stairway.
Ashley’s stomach churned, and Sapphira’s tight grip on her abdomen made it worse. If this vertical climb didn’t end soon, she would heave her guts for sure.
After almost three minutes, Roxil leveled off and skidded to the grass on the mountaintop.
Karen began to rise, but Ashley pushed down on her shoulders. “No use getting off. We’ll have to leave in a minute anyway.” She tapped her jaw once again. “Larry, can you hear me now?”
This time a voice seemed to break through the static, but the words were too garbled to understand.
“Larry,” she said, raising her voice, “go ahead and boost your signal even if power is low. We have to find Walter. If you’ve been in touch with him, let us know where to look.”
The static reply seemed more garbled than ever.
“Voice transmission takes too much power.” She twisted around, reached into the bag in Sapphira’s lap, and pulled out her handheld computer. She spoke again into the air as she turned it on. “Don’t bother with voice digitization. Just send ASCII characters to my handheld.”
She stared at the computer screen. At first, the LCD just stared back at her, but after a few seconds, letters began to appear, slowly at first, then faster.
Ashley read them out loud. “I have not heard from Walter, but since the media reports indicate a power grid failure, I suggest that you find a nearby power plant. Even if Walter has not gone there, perhaps you can learn what is causing the crisis.” She scanned the horizon for smokestacks. “Can you tell us where the closest one is?”
More letters lined up across the screen. “I do not have that data stored locally, and my Internet access is down. May I suggest following the power lines to their source?”
Ashley groaned. “They might lead to a transfer station, not a power plant. It could take hours to trace the source.”
“How about the tracks?” Karen said, pointing at the ground. “They might not go very far, but at least we’ll get started in the right direction.”
“True, but then what? We’ll be back to searching for power lines.”
Roxil swung her head toward her riders. “Your discussion is becoming tedious. Shall we follow the tracks or not?”
Ashley nodded. “Let’s go. It’s worth a try.”
With a gust of wind and a spray of water droplets, Roxil launched into the air again, this time with a more gentle angle. Following the footprints, they soon crossed the line of trees, and the trail was quickly obscured.
Roxil turned on her eyebeams and scanned the leaf-strewn slope. “I see only an odd imprint every once in a while, as if someone has intentionally scarred the ground.”
“Follow it, Roxil!” Ashley yelled.
Fanning out her wings, she descended to a lower flight level, staying just above the treetops. “Easily done. The marks are quite consistent.”
Ashley clenched her fist. “Good ol’ Walter,” she said with a sigh. “He remembered.”
Roxil huffed a blast of flames. “It is time to fry some giants!”
With Naamah grasping Elam’s shoulders, Dikaios galloped along the path, his stride so fast and smooth, they seemed to glide. Only a few bumps and the horse’s heavy breathing reminded them that a powerful animal carried them across the Bridgelands. The storm clouds racing behind them lost ground as the amazing creature tore across grassy meadows, leaped over small ponds, and scaled steep hogbacks as if they were tapered hillocks.
As they reached the top of a rocky ridge, Dikaios slowed to a trot, allowing his riders a moment to take in the scene before them. Pristine grasslands stretched out for miles with lush trees surrounding dozens of pools that dotted the verdant canvas, like sparkling sapphires inlaid on green velvet.
Elam whistled. “If this is just Heaven’s front porch, I wonder what it looks like inside!”
Naamah gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and whispered, “This is what Eden must have been like before the fall.”
“Words are inadequate to describe the inner beauty,” Dikaios said. “I am but a servant of the groom and have been invited inside but once. My single visit was enough to keep the vision of perfection forever imprinted in my mind. My one desire in life is for the promised day to come when I will take my master back to the Earth to do battle against the wicked. After his conquest, I will carry him inside the gate of pearls where the grass is far greener and more delicious, the air is never polluted by the odor of death, and my master shines a light that never sets or is veiled by clouds.” Dikaios turned back to Elam, blinking away tears. “Then I will stay with my master forever.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Elam said, patting the horse’s neck. “How much farther to the shield?”
“Do you see the horizon ahead, where the blue touches the grass like a curtain draped across a stage? It stretches from the plunging cliff on the left to the matching cliff on the right.”
Elam shaded his eyes with his hand. “I see it.”
“The blue backdrop is not sky. That is the door to the altar, Heaven’s shield.”
“The sky is actually the shield?”
“And the eastern horizon is the passage.” Dikaios looked back at the gaining storm clouds. “Let us go. We will be there very soon.”
Dikaios began with a trot, then accelerated into a full gallop. As he ran, the sky in the distance seemed to get bigger and bigger, as if it had become a painting that someone carried closer and closer every second. Finally, he stopped at a point where the grass ended at a line of blue, appearing as a cliff that plunged into nothingness.
“We have arrived,” Dikaios announced.
Elam leaned toward the barrier. “So, how do we get in? I never found the scarlet key the gatekeeper told me I needed.”
“Look at your hand. The key is already in your grasp.”
Elam opened his fingers and stared at his palm. “What do you mean? I’m not carrying anything.”
“Oh, but you are. You bear the marks of righteousness.”
Elam flexed his fingers. His hand ached, still oozing blood from the cuts and scrapes he earned on the bridge. “I think I see what you mean.”
Naamah reached forward and showed him her palm. “Mine is bloodstained, but the blood is not my own.”
“Nor does the blood on Elam’s palm belong to him.” Dikaios bobbed his head at the horizon. “Touch the shield, both of you. The righteous may enter immediately, and the contrite may plead for a new heart.”
Elam slid off and helped Naamah dismount. He edged close to the blue boundary, reaching out with his hand. As his fingers neared the expanse, he felt a tingling sensation and drew back.
“Go ahead,” Dikaios said. “It will not harm you. You have the key.”
Elam touched the border and flattened his palm against it. A hand-shaped set of tiny waves rode away from his skin, like ripples on a pond, yet they looked more like wrinkles of light—sparkling, multiple shades of blue. The sensation tickled, sending a warm flow up his arm and into his chest. His heart felt ablaze, a good, soothing heat that emanated into his brain and ignited a surge of emotion—intense, passionate feeling that couldn’t be suppressed.
“Dikaios,” Elam said loudly, “you are magnificent. You are a worthy servant to your master, and he will be pleased to have you at his side forever.”
Dikaios bowed his head but said nothing.
Elam turned to Naamah and smiled. Words poured forth unbidden as the surge of passion continued. “Your harlotries are forgiven, O daughter of the ancient days. Touch the shield of Heaven, sing a psalm to your blessed Savior, and fear not to shed your cloak, for you will be clothed with righteousness.”
Reaching out a petite, trembling hand, Naamah leaned toward the shield. As soon as her fingers touched the blue light, a radiant white halo enveloped her body. Her skin glowed, and her face shone like that of an angel. A glorious smile spread across her face, and she began jumping up and down on her toes, a beautiful song trilling from her lips.
The fruit of Eden’s ancient tree,
The seeds I plucked so long ago,
To plant and harvest scarlet sins
Are now forgiven, white as snow.
Forgiven! Shout the joyful truth!
This harlot’s wanton flesh is slain.
Forever bound unto my Lord,
I cast aside the devil’s chains!
Pulling back from the shield, Naamah stripped off the cloak, revealing a dazzling gown—a dress as white as the brightest stars. The flowers in her garland multiplied, the blossoms doubling in size, whiter than ever. She lifted her hands to the sky and twirled in a slow pirouette, but this time no song came out as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. She just laughed and laughed.
Elam lowered his hand and looked down at his own clothes. He, too, now wore white—a radiant tunic lapping over equally radiant breeches that were tied at the waist by a golden cord. He rubbed one of the tunic’s elbow-length sleeves. “It’s soft as silk!”
A low, wispy buzz, like a breeze chasing leaves on a path, sounded from the shield. The blue canvas parted in the center. A light split the two partitions, too bright to gaze upon.
Elam shielded his eyes and looked at Dikaios.
“You may enter,” the horse said. “You have been found true and thus dressed according to your character. I will watch from here for the storm and stand ready in case you need me.”
Elam bowed. “Thank you, noble horse.” He reached for Naamah’s hand. “For both of us.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Naamah curtsied. “I hope to see your master someday, face-to-face.” Rising again, she took Elam’s hand, and the two passed through the shining divide.