chapter 3
ELAM’S JOURNEY
Elam waded through an ocean of knee-high wildflowers, scattering pollen from dozens of orange, purple, and yellow blossoms. A wash of delicate scents bathed him in perfumed air, but he hadn’t come to this field to enjoy the sights and smells. He had to find the path and follow it.
Pushing aside a swath of long-bladed grass, he searched the ground for a red petal. For the last several miles, a trail of red flowers, intermixed with a rainbow of other colors, had guided his steps, but they had suddenly ended about a hundred yards back.
“Follow the trail of blood—the red flowers,” Merlin had told him. “Then enter the Forest of Molech and look for Glewlwyd, the gatekeeper.”
Elam stopped and swiveled his head. Nothing but grass and flowers as far as the eye could see. Why would the trail of blood vanish? Could Merlin have been wrong somehow?
Pulling off his cloak, he trudged back to where the path of red flowers ended. After laying down a small shoulder bag, he plucked a blade of grass and sat among the flowers, glad to give his legs a rest. Since he wore lightweight khaki trousers and a short-sleeved tunic, the warm sun felt good on his bare arms, but the hooded cloak was ready at his side, just in case. Merlin had told him that nights in this land were unpredictable, sometimes muggy and warm and sometimes breezy and cold.
As he chewed on the end of the blade, he stared across the vast field, his eyes barely above the tiny blossoms. He had often heard about this land, the second level in the Circles of Seven. The Bible referred to it as Hades and sometimes Sheol, which was the name his father, Shem, and his grandfather Noah called it in their stories.
Smiling, Elam pushed his cloak under his head as he lay back. Those were the days! Noah was the best of storytellers. Always ready with tales of life in the ark—tales of riding out the great storm, feeding hundreds of squawking, baying, and howling animals, and helping them bear their young, including the delivery of a calf from a cantankerous elephant.
A yellow petal fell on his nose, jerking his mind back to the task at hand. Only his more recent memories would give him any clue to what he should do next. Had he missed a word, maybe a sign or a symbol in Merlin’s instructions? The secret meeting that began this adventure was still clear in his mind.
Merlin had come to Sir Patrick’s ready to send Elam out on a great journey …
Sitting on a stool in the dim compass room, Merlin laid a strap over Elam’s shoulder and patted the bag that hung at the bottom. “Water, bread, and a special device that might come in handy. It’s a spyglass that my ancestors passed down through many generations.”
Elam dug the spyglass out of the bag and looked through the lens, extending the telescopic cylinder to its maximum. He pointed it at the rectangular hole in the ceiling and gazed at the crescent moon peeking through a thin cloud. Then, turning it to the old portal screen, a shimmering window in the outer wall, he focused on the junglelike trees on the other side. Rain dripped on the undergrowth, ferns, and vines that disguised a field of bones. “Does it do anything special?”
“I’m not sure. I found no use for it other than viewing things at a distance.” Merlin pointed at an etching on the dark, metallic side. “But this Hebrew script tells me that it could have other attributes.”
“It says, ‘Enoch.’” Elam rubbed his finger along the etching. “You mean this belonged to Enoch the prophet?”
“It did indeed, but in my brief encounter with him, I never thought to ask him what it does beyond the obvious.” Merlin pointed at the portal window. “But it might be useful when you cross the field of the second circle. The grassland is so vast, at times you won’t be able to see anything but grass and flowers all the way to the horizon.”
“Is there a path?” Elam asked. “Markings? Landmarks?”
“Only one. You’ll have to follow the trail of blood—the red flowers. Then enter the Forest of Molech and look for Glewlwyd, the gatekeeper.”
Elam walked up to the portal window and touched it. The solid barrier sent a tingle through his fingers. “What does this gatekeeper look like?”
“I wish I could tell you precisely,” Merlin replied, rising from his stool. “He is somewhat invisible.”
Elam spun around. “Invisible? How can I possibly find someone who’s invisible?”
Merlin joined him at the window. “Actually, I think semi-transparent is more accurate. If he moves, you will see him, like flowing water. So walk carefully or you might stumble over him while he is sleeping, and he can be quite irritable if he decides not to like you.”
Elam collapsed the spyglass to its original state. “When I find him, then what do I do?”
“First, beware,” Merlin said, raising a finger. “The forest is haunted by the Caitiff—the spirits of those who abused or murdered children during their lives on Earth. They wander there in hopelessness, waiting for the judgment of God. They know their penalty will be sure and severe, an eternal damnation that will make them suffer beyond all others. So, they are desperate and cruel, both to each other and to any lost soul who ventures among the perverse.”
Elam shivered. “Why would the gatekeeper be in a place like that?”
“The forest serves as a barrier to those condemned souls who might try to leave the Circles of Seven. At the center, there is an unusual gate that serves as the only dimensional exit that an unqualified person could possibly use, and Glewlwyd guards it. His transparency keeps him safe from the Caitiff, and he acts as a guide if a worthy seeker of the gate enters the forest, as Acacia and Paili did not long ago.”
“So what do I say to Glewlwyd when I find him?”
“Tell him you are seeking Heaven’s lower altar, and ask him for passage to the Bridgelands. He will likely test you in some way to prove who you are, but I cannot predict what the test will entail. Just answer his questions. If you pass, he will allow you through the gate.” Merlin stroked his bearded chin and sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s only the beginning of your trials. Since even Glewlwyd can be deceived, once you go through the gate, there will be another battery of tests you must pass before you get to the altar. These will examine the character of your soul rather than the cleverness of your lips, so all deception will be purged along the way.”
Elam laid the spyglass in the bag. “How in the world could Acacia carry Paili through all of that? I mean, she had great character of soul, but what about the Caitiff? How could she get past them while carrying a limp body?”
“Joseph of Arimathea guided her, and he likely took over the burden of carrying Paili. He was a great warrior in his time, so he is strong, and the Caitiff fear him.”
“Where is Joseph now?” Elam hiked his bag higher on his shoulder. “I mean, I’m no coward, but I wouldn’t mind having him along if he’s available.”
Merlin untwisted the bag’s strap and patted it down. “I have no idea what has become of Joseph. As far as I can tell, you will have no guide, but I’m sure you will find your way.” He laid his palm on the back of Elam’s head. “You have proven yourself worthy of every assignment I’ve given you, and this will be no exception. But you must maintain a confident mind-set in full assurance of faith, otherwise your heart might melt within you.”
Elam kept his head straight, not wanting to disturb Merlin’s touch. The old prophet’s strong fingers felt good in his hair, filling him with confidence and energy. “I appreciate your faith in me,” Elam said. “I’ll remember what you told me.”
Merlin pulled his hand away. “I know you will.”
Turning back to the portal, Elam gazed at the jungle scene again. The rain had become a downpour. “Any last-minute instructions?”
“Indeed. I have saved the most important part as your final warning in order to firmly implant it in your brain.” Merlin glanced at the doorway leading to the living quarters of Sir Patrick’s house, and, leaning close to Elam, lowered his voice to a whisper. “I have learned that Mardon, Sapphira’s old master, is behind a plot that could trigger a potential catastrophe so great, even Heaven and Earth would be destroyed. Yet there is a way to stop him. You must find Enoch, but you need not warn him of the threat. He knows of it all too well and is counting on your help to save the cosmos.”
Elam pointed at himself. “I’m supposed to save the cosmos?”
“Not alone. You will simply be one of the tools God will use, like a commander leading the troops into battle. Enoch is mustering soldiers from Earth and from another dimension that you have never heard of.” Merlin tapped his finger on Elam’s head. “I believe you know the soldiers from Earth, a young man and woman named Walter and Ashley.”
Elam nodded. “I know about them. I was called Markus back when they helped Billy and Bonnie survive the Circles of Seven, but I never had a chance to meet them.”
“Their role is crucial,” Merlin continued, “yet they have no idea that Mardon is trying to build a tower to pull Heaven down to Earth. It will be up to Sapphira and Enoch to guide their steps. If they fail to do their part, all will be lost.”
“What about this other realm?” Elam asked. “How am I supposed to lead soldiers from there?”
“Only one man from there is involved, but you are not responsible for calling him to your aid, though you know him quite well.” Merlin paused for a moment, his stare riveting Elam in place. Finally, the old prophet sighed. “Aren’t you going to ask me who he is?”
Elam shook his head. “If you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”
Merlin chuckled and patted Elam on the back. “You haven’t changed much, have you?” Pulling away slightly, Merlin kept his voice low. “Enoch sang a prophecy for me. I have not discerned whether or not it relates to the potential calamity at hand, but maybe it will give you wisdom.”
Angling his head upward, he crooned in a soft, melodic tone.
The tree that bears the ark of God
Has flown to Heaven’s narrow gate
To purge the serpent’s fatal bite,
The fruit of Morgan’s wicked hate.
A host of martyrs bends the knee
>Behind the altar’s sacred door,
Awaiting Elam, son of Shem,
To lead a march to holy war.
A path of light will lead the way,
A path the tree will soon ignite,
A path of sorrows, pain, and death,
A path to guide the mourning knight.
But still there lurks a dangerous foe
Who seeks to drink of Elam’s life,
To take the fruit that burns within,
The flame that melts a subtle knife.
The journey takes him to a land
Of children once forsaken here
To battle altered tribes of war,
Deceivers masked to virgin ears.
And once that land is cleansed anew,
The tree must bring the ark to Earth.
Sapphira begs for borrowed bones,
The only way to bring new birth.
Sapphira bends, but will she break?
Depends on Elam’s safe return.
For if he fails to bring the ark,
Her life is chaff and soon will burn.
When the last note faded, Merlin folded his hands and watched the rain through the portal window. “After the song, Enoch left to join Acacia and Paili at the altar, but I could not follow, for I still have important business to take care of inside the Great Key.”
“You mean creating the covenant veil for the dragons?” Elam asked.
“Yes. And then I will go to Heaven with my wife and never return to the Earth.” Merlin clasped Elam’s shoulder. “When you find Enoch, Acacia, and Paili, they will divulge the rest of the plan to stop Mardon and his schemes. I suspect, however, that there is much more going on than meets the eye. Mardon is, as were Devin and Morgan, a mere pawn in the devil’s ultimate plot, so watch for something more sinister behind what you can see with your eyes.”
“So you don’t know what the rest of the poem means, that stuff about someone wanting to drink my life, bringing the ark, and marching to war?”
“I have ideas, but uninformed speculation is wasted effort. You will have to ask Enoch.”
Elam shook his head. “Please pardon my frankness, Master Merlin, but sometimes I don’t understand prophets like you and Enoch. Why can’t you just speak plainly instead of using songs and poems?”
Merlin chuckled. “Sometimes we don’t even understand the verses ourselves. We frequently offer our own reasoned soliloquies, but once in a while we speak exactly that which God bids us speak, word for word. Occasionally he reveals his thoughts in riddles and parables so that those who earnestly want to know the truth will seek it with all their hearts, even if it means struggling through dangerous journeys.” He tightened his grip on Elam and gave him the gentlest of shakes. “This is how we prove the confessions of our lips.”
Elam sighed, warmth flooding his cheeks. He let a timid smile break through. “I’ll take that spiritual slap on the hand and get on my way.”
“And I never saw him again,” Elam whispered to himself.
While it was in reality only a few days ago, it now seemed like months had passed since that meeting. Time in the Circles of Seven was confusing at best, sometimes so sluggish even seeds from the heads of grass stalks seemed to fall to the ground in slow motion, while at other times life zoomed at a frenetic pace. Wildflowers sprouted, grew, and blossomed in seconds, and the sun raced the clouds across the sky.
Today seemed long. The warm sun perched at the zenith and stared at him like a big orange eye that refused to blink. Still, a cool breeze blew across the field, drying the sweat on his brow and making the grass wave and the flowers nod their colorful heads.
Rising to his feet with his cloak over one shoulder and his bag over the other, Elam pulled out Enoch’s spyglass and pointed it toward the field for the hundredth time. Still nothing but grass and flowers, grass and flowers, and more grass and flowers.
He glanced down at the abrupt end of the path of red and muttered, “Should I just go in the exact direction the path is pointing?”
A deep voice replied. “That would make the most sense, son of Shem.”
“Who said that?” Elam swiveled his head, searching for the source of the voice. “Where are you? How do you know me?”
No one answered.
He gazed up at the sun, avoiding a direct stare, then swept his foot across the grass, searching for any odd creature that might have spoken. Finally, he wiped his brow. “I must be going nuts!”
He glared at the last red flower on the path. “Okay,” he said, reaching down and plucking it, stem and all, “I don’t know if you’re the one who spoke or if you’re just the victim of my newfound insanity, but you’re coming with me.” He marched forward, his eyes picking out one of the taller blades of grass and, once fixed on it, he watched its waving head of seeds as the breeze continued to blow. When he reached it, he locked his gaze on another seedpod farther ahead, then another, as he kept to a straight line.
After a few hours, the sun broke free from its lazy perch and began drifting toward the horizon. He laid the flower on his ear, drew out the spyglass again, and searched ahead. A low dark rise loomed in the distance. Finally! Could it be a line of trees? The Forest of Molech?
He stuffed the glass into the bag and clutched the flower. “I’d better get there before dark,” he said, breaking into a jog.
The sun slid down the sky, and evening draped itself across the field, but not before the forest came into view of Elam’s naked eye. Minutes later, just as darkness began settling over the land, he arrived within a few yards of the edge. The grass ended abruptly, giving way to damp black dirt, pockmarked with squatty orange toadstools. The soil reeked of decay—rotted leaves and mold, and maybe even carrion mixed in somewhere.
He peered into the forest. With only a few stars twinkling above, he couldn’t even distinguish one tree from another. As he continued to stare, tiny red lights blinked on and off deep within the woods.
“Eyes!” Elam said out loud. The pairs of red points gathered together, drawing closer by the second. Now dozens of eyes approached the edge of the forest, their glowing beacons shining brighter, harsh and hateful.
He backpedaled into the grass and crouched, holding his breath. The eyes closed in, then halted at the tree line, but there seemed to be no shape or silhouette, no head or body surrounding the lights. The darkness blended every movement into warped shadows.
He exhaled as slowly and silently as possible, but they must have heard him breathe, or maybe smelled his breath. The crimson eyes began bouncing up and down, as if they were owned by excited monkeys. Grunts and shrieks erupted, but the creatures stayed put at the tree line. Soon, the din grew to a fevered pitch, and the creatures howled, some with pained wails.
Elam crouched even lower. Could they be fighting?
The howls suddenly stopped, and a strange soft light filtered into the trees. He glanced at the horizon to his right. A full moon peeked over the field, sending its yellowish beams across grass, flowers, and forest.
White vapor arose between him and the trees, like steam from a heated pot. It coalesced into a humanlike phantom with long, elastic arms that reached toward the woods. The eyes scattered, blinking off as the creatures turned and ran.
Staying low, Elam caught a glimpse of what looked like human or apelike legs in retreat, so whatever these things were, they must have been bipeds. But what could that vapor be?
As the moon’s full disc appeared, the phantom dispersed, and the entire scene brightened. The trees looked like tall hardwoods with bushy tops and trunks stripped of branches to about head height. A few moonbeams illuminated the forest floor, which seemed bare, perhaps leaf-strewn, except for a strange lump at the base of one of the trunks. He studied the lump but couldn’t figure out what it was. Another mystery, but it would have to wait for morning.
Using his cloak as a pillow, he lay down in the grass and folded his hands on his chest, still clutching the red flower. Although the surrounding air was still warm from the daytime heating, a tingle crawled along his skin, making him shiver. The strange creatures in the woods, their ghoulish red eyes, and their bestial wails were enough to give anyone a chill. Not only that, with its long, gaseous arms, the phantom had looked more like a ghost than a random cloud of gas, and anything that would frighten away those forest devils had to be more than just a passing vapor.
Elam closed his eyes and nestled deeper in his cloak. “It’s still safer out here,” he murmured. “It would be crazy to go in those woods in the dark.”
As he closed his eyes and drifted toward sleep, a soft voice whispered in his ear. “Yes, son of Shem. When danger is near, always stay in the light.”