Roxil let out a sparks-laden sigh. “I suppose I can, but if you leave, what will I do?”
Ashley halted. “If I find Sapphira, maybe she can come back for you. Maybe it was all a mistake, and she’s trying to figure out how to find us right now.”
Roxil twitched her ears and raised her scaly brow. “Considering that she has played the temptress, usurped your position with your young man, and left you here to rot, I am surprised at your trust in her.”
“Temptress? What are you talking about? Sapphira’s too sweet to do anything like that.”
“Perhaps you didn’t notice the attraction, but my experienced eyes tell me far more than your human vision can detect.” Roxil flicked her tongue out and in. “The evidence is quite convincing. She and your young man are together, and you are here. Why should you trust such a deceiver?”
Averting her eyes, Ashley kicked aside a pebble. Something about this dragon was definitely strange. Why was she so filled with distrust? She couldn’t be right about Sapphira, could she? “If you have a better idea,” Ashley said, “then let’s hear it. Otherwise, Sapphira or no Sapphira, I’m getting out of here, and I’ll do whatever I can to rescue you.”
Roxil lumbered toward the exit. “I still think we are in Hades, so I have my doubts whether or not the staircase remains, but I suppose it is worth a try.”
As cold drizzle pelted his head, Mardon stood at the edge of a highway next to one of his giants. The road to his left climbed a slope and curved around a low grassy rise, disappearing about half a mile away. To his right, the highway descended into a more forested area where tall spruces reached into an elevated fog bank.
Mardon tapped the giant’s hip and pointed at a white Ford Explorer cruising toward them on the rain-slicked road. “That one will do nicely, Bagowd.”
The giant stepped onto the pavement and waved his arms over his head. As the Explorer’s wheels locked, the female driver screamed. Sliding while it decelerated, the SUV came to a halt with a not-so-gentle bump into Bagowd’s legs. The young woman flung open the door and leaped out, but the giant, in three limping strides, snatched her by the coat collar, hauled her back to the Explorer, and threw her behind the steering wheel.
“You will drive,” he bellowed.
Mardon opened the door on the other side and slid into the passenger’s seat. “I apologize for frightening you, Madam, but my need for a vehicle is urgent. When my giant carries me, our progress is much too slow.”
Her arms shaking violently, the short-haired brunette reached for the gear stick on the steering column and shifted to drive. “Where … where do you want to go?”
He nodded at Bagowd, who had bent over to rub his injured legs. “Follow him.”
She settled into her seat, straightening her coat around her. After taking a deep breath, she raised her hands to her temples and said, “Okay, Kaitlyn, you can handle this. Remember your boot camp training.” Now wearing a forced smile, she turned to Mardon. “If your friend’s going on foot, why did you need a ride?”
Mardon raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you will see very soon.”
The giant loped down the road, increasing his speed with every stride. Kaitlyn stepped on the gas and followed. After a few seconds, she looked down at the speedometer. “Wow! He’s doing forty already! I guess our little collision didn’t bother him at all.”
“Apparently not. This happy outcome is good for both of us.”
She squinted at Mardon. “Is he some kind of circus freak or something?”
“I suggest that you address him by his name, which is Bagowd. Calling him a freak to his face would endanger your health.”
Kaitlyn laughed. “You’re pretty funny, Mister … uh … What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” Mardon kept his gaze locked on the giant.
“I’m Kaitlyn Peabody.” She extended a hand, but Mardon just glanced at her and refocused straight ahead. “Are you two actors or something?” she asked. “I mean, your sandals and tunics are great costumes, but I’ll bet you’re cold in them.”
Mardon replied in a firm monotone. “Miss Peabody, I would appreciate silence. I am concentrating on my giant’s form. If he tires too quickly, I will have reason for concern.”
“He could ride on top.” Kaitlyn covered her lips. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”
Mardon let out an exasperated sigh. “I appreciate your concern, but I want him to exercise. I must know if he is strong enough for the task ahead.”
Kaitlyn drove on, keeping at least three car lengths behind the sprinting giant. After a few minutes of silence, Bagowd slowed down as he neared a gravel service road on the right.
“Drive in here,” Mardon said.
As the Explorer’s wheels rolled over the popping gravel, a uniformed man walked out of a small gatehouse near a fenced entryway. When he spotted Bagowd, his jaw dropped open.
The giant stalked toward him. With a frantic spin, the guard hustled back to his one-room station and slammed the door.
When Kaitlyn parked, Mardon got out and, turning back to her, bowed low. “I thank you for your service. I am gladdened that my giant didn’t have to kill you.”
She stared back at him through the open door, barely moving her lips. “No problem.”
Bagowd marched to the gatehouse and glared through the door’s window. “Unlock the gate,” he shouted.
The guard pulled a gun from his holster and aimed it shakily. “Get back!”
Bagowd punched through the glass, knocking the gun away with his meaty hand. Then, wrapping his fingers around the man’s throat, he lifted him off the ground.
Mardon turned to Kaitlyn and bowed again. “I’m sorry you had to see this.”
Jerking forward, she shifted into drive. “I didn’t see anything!” With a mad spinning of tires and slinging of gravel, the SUV roared away, its passenger door still hanging open and wagging on its hinges.
Mardon turned back to the gatehouse. The guard now lay facedown, his midsection resting over the broken window as his arms dangled limply.
“Such a shame,” Mardon said as he rejoined Bagowd. “But sacrifice is necessary along the road to Heaven’s gate.” He nodded at the fenced entryway. “Let us proceed.”
Bagowd pushed his fingers through the chain links and ripped the gate from its moorings. With a mighty heave, he tossed it to the side. The gate spun on a corner and landed against a power company truck.
Mardon and the giant marched toward the power plant side by side, the sound of rushing water rising from somewhere in the distance. “I fear,” Mardon said, “that we will encounter more resistance inside, so you must be prepared to offer more sacrifices.”
“What of the driver?” Bagowd asked. “Will she alert the authorities?”
Mardon laughed. “They will be too busy with a greater crisis. Our friend Chazaq will soon make sure of that.”
Chapter 9
Green is correct.” Glewlwyd touched Elam on the chest. Just as the Caitiff pounced, the world around him suddenly fractured into puzzle pieces and scattered in the wind. A new world took shape, a beautiful forest glade with vibrant green leaves waving from statuesque trees and lush grass as soft as a kitten’s coat. Flowers sprinkled the landscape with dazzling colors—reds that would shame rubies and blues more brilliant than sapphires.
“This place is amazing!” Elam turned in a slow circle. “Where are we?”
Glewlwyd, now opaque, stood straighter and rubbed his hand across his scant white hair. “Many call it the Bridgelands, but I like to call it Heaven’s Gauntlet, a front porch, if you will, that leads to Heaven. To enter the final shield you must have the scarlet key in your hand.”
“A scarlet key? How do I get that?”
“You will get it when you pass the tests of character that correct my mistakes.”
“You mean the people who you thought were worthy but really weren’t?”
The old gatekeeper laid a wrinkled hand on his leathery forehead. “Alas! Although I see into a man’s soul, I do not always catch the dark areas if he has learned to hide them well.”
Elam opened his cloak and let the gentle breeze blow through. “What kind of unworthy people would venture into Molech’s Forest? They’d have to be willing to risk a lot.”
“Very true, for if the Caitiff kill them in their wandering bodies, their souls go directly to the Lake of Fire where they will suffer for all eternity. At least in Hades they can delay the inevitable for as long as possible, but they are still desperate wretches who are convinced they don’t belong there, so they go to great lengths to escape.”
“Who would be so desperate? I mean, I understand why anyone would want to get out of Hades, but facing those monsters takes a lot of courage.”
“They have courage, to be sure,” Glewlwyd said, “but courage is not always accompanied by purity. Many are preachers or theologians who loudly quote their confessions and institutes to prove their piety, but the darkness in their hearts screams obscenities that drown out their oratory.”
“There are theologians in Hades?”
“Certainly. Not all go there, of course, for I am a theologian myself. Yet many fail to understand that it’s not studying God that gains his favor; it is obeying him.”
“Well spoken.” Elam hiked up his shoulder bag. “So what do I do now?”
Glewlwyd waved his robed arm across the expansive scenery. “Go forth, and seek so that you may find … but beware. There are great trials in this place, either from evil wanderers who could not complete the gauntlet, or in the form of tests that will assess your character.”
“That’s no surprise. Merlin told me one of Enoch’s prophecies. He said there’s a dangerous enemy who wants to drink my life, something about taking my fruit that burns within, a flame that melts a subtle knife. Any idea what that means?”
“I do, indeed.” A sparkle gleamed in Glewlwyd’s eye. “Fruit and life have twofold meanings. You have consumed Eden’s eternal fruit, giving you extraordinary length of life. Someone longs for this gift, craves for it with lustful passion, and would, if you do not act with wisdom, drink it straight from your blood. If you are wise enough, however, perhaps you will conquer your enemy with the second meaning. Your fruit and life are the harvest of your faith. If your enemy feeds on these, a different outcome is assured, one that will bring you great blessing.”
Giving the old man a smile, Elam shook his head. “Your explanation is almost as cryptic as the prophecy.”
Glewlwyd replied with a friendly cackle. “I intended for it to be cryptic. How could wisdom be tested if every step is given in advance?” He patted Elam on his chest. “If your heart is pure, you have nothing to fear. If, however, you have hidden any darkness in those secret places I could not see, your enemy will find it, and I cannot bear to tell you what would happen in that case.”
Elam took a deep breath. “I don’t have any choice. I have to find Acacia and Paili.”
“You are right.” Glewlwyd moved his hand to Elam’s upper arm and squeezed his bicep. “Loyalty and confidence in your character will get you far, but those two alone will not be enough. You will need clear vision and spiritual foresight.”
“Speaking of foresight …” Elam pulled the spyglass from his bag and searched the horizon. “I see some kind of trench with a bridge across it.”
“Considerably more than a trench, as you will see. It is Zeno’s Chasm, much wider and deeper than it appears, and the bridge is old and very dangerous, yet you must cross the chasm to get to Heaven’s altar.”
Elam collapsed the spyglass. “Is there a way around? A safer bridge, maybe?”
“I have heard tales of such a passage.” Glewlwyd pointed to his right. “They say if you go in one direction, the chasm becomes narrow and shallow enough to cross, but you will not be able to see the passage from the bridge, even with your spyglass.” He shifted his finger to the left. “If you go the other way, the chasm just gets deeper.”
Elam looked in the direction the gatekeeper pointed. “So that way is the wrong way, right?”
Glewlwyd shrugged. “I am not sure, and you should not care. The bridge provides the key to entering Heaven’s altar, so it would be foolish to go any other way. It is a fearsome path, to be sure, and only those with a perfected heart are able to cross, but it is the only path that guarantees the destination.”
“What happens to travelers who try to find the safer passage?”
The old man shook his head. “I have heard of travelers who search and never find their way back to the bridge. A wrong choice could lead to an eternity of wandering.”
“That doesn’t make sense. All they would have to do is turn around and follow the edge of the chasm back to the bridge.”
Glewlwyd pointed at him and winked. “In your world, yes, but here you must get accustomed to many new realities … and new dangers.”
“I hope the dangers aren’t any worse than the Caitiff.” Elam laid the spyglass in the bag and patted the side. “I don’t have any weapons.”
“I suggest preparing your mind for obstacles far more deadly.” The old man’s body began to disappear, becoming transparent again as his voice faded. “You already have the greatest of weapons.”
The moment Glewlwyd vanished, Elam shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and marched straight toward the chasm. As he whisked past the flowers, a new fragrance buoyed his senses, a fresh, lively aroma the wildflowers in Hades could only dream of creating.
Light seemed to emanate from somewhere over a forested hill beyond the chasm. The top of that rise would be a good place to get a view of the entire area and plan the rest of his journey.
As he drew closer to the chasm, it seemed to grow wider and wider, so wide that when he finally reached it, he felt like a mouse at the edge of the Grand Canyon. The span was nothing more than a simple rope bridge with parallel ropes on top and bottom and loose or broken boards tied between the lower pair, barely wide enough for walking. A stiff breeze blew through the chasm, swinging the bridge as its arch dangled over the massive gap.
Elam peered down the sheer drop. No bottom was in sight. Even though the opposite cliff was far away, the two sheer walls seemed to meet in the nebulous distance below. The odd perspective dizzied his brain. He had to lurch backwards just to keep from falling in.
Pulling out his spyglass again, Elam searched both directions, but, just as the gatekeeper had warned, there was no shallow passage in sight.
He tapped the spyglass on his head. According to Glewlwyd the bridge guaranteed his destination, something about providing a key to the altar, but he didn’t say going the safer route made it impossible to get there. Should he chance a guess and look for the passage? Choosing right would give him a safer road, but choosing wrong could mean being lost forever.
Elam sighed. It would be a foolish risk to go any other way. If the bridge provided the key to the altar, he had to go out and get it, no matter how impossible it seemed.
A soft voice drifted into his ears. “Take care, young man. The bridge is dangerous.”
Elam spun around. A woman wearing a hooded red cloak stood before him. Her velvet sleeves covered all but the ends of her fingers, and only her bare toes were visible at the bottom of her cape. As she pulled back her hood, wavy brown hair spilled over her shoulders and framed a lovely young face.
“Thank you for the warning,” Elam said, bowing, “but this is the only way I’ve seen to get across.”
She extended her hand toward the bridge, exposing a slender arm. “I have watched hundreds fall into the chasm, but there is a safer passage. I have led many travelers such as yourself across.”
Elam looked back at the bridge. “I think I’ll take my chances this way.”
Her voice stayed soft and smooth. “Only those with a perfected heart are able to cross the bridge. Do you judge yourself more capable than the great men who have attempted passage and fallen?”
“I’m not comparing myself to anyone. Since I haven’t seen any of these men you’re talking about, I have no basis on which to judge.”
“Then you doubt my word, though I have watched this bridge for centuries. You must think me a deceiver when I warn you of the danger.”
Elam glanced back at the swinging bridge again. “I believe it’s dangerous. I can see that for myself.”
She extended her hand toward Elam. “Then come with me. Join the others who have made an honest evaluation of their imperfect hearts and followed the path of realism. Is it not folly to stand alone in a dangerous place when you can walk safely in numbers?”
“Numbers mean nothing to me.” Elam tapped himself on his chest. “I’ve been alone most of my life. I have learned to follow the people I already trust, namely Enoch and Merlin. Merlin told me to find Glewlwyd, and Glewlwyd said I should cross the bridge, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You are listening to empty promises—mere words.” She reached for his hand. “I offer you reality. No one can really make this impossible passage. It is far too difficult.”
Elam pushed her hand down. “I think you’ve delayed me long enough. I’m going to cross.”
A sad smile thinned out her lips. “Very well.” She raised the hood over her head and lowered herself to her knees at the foot of the bridge. “I will pray for your crossing, though you will surely fall with the others. Only do not curse me as you plummet to your death, for I gave you fair warning.”
“That you did.” Turning abruptly, he stuffed the spyglass back in the bag. While gripping the ropes on each side of the bridge, he slid his foot out onto the first plank. Testing the next step with his other foot, he shifted his weight forward, hoping he could hang on if the plank broke. It held firm. The next plank, however, was already split, though not completely broken. Taking a longer step, he bypassed it and landed on the next plank. It snapped, and his leg plunged through, pulling his other leg with it. With one hand clinging to each of the upper ropes, he dangled, his chest at the level of the planks and his arms spread painfully wide.
“Oh, the folly!” The woman in red sang out. “The folly of those who think themselves holier and wiser than the sages who went before them!”
A new gust of wind jerked the bridge. One hand slipped off, and his shoulder bag slid down his arm. As he tried to grab the strap, his other hand slipped, but just before he could fall through the bridge, he slung his arms over the lower rope and hung on. His bag plunged into the depths, tossed about by the wind as it shrank in the distance of the apparently bottomless chasm.
The woman spread out her arms, making her cloak look like a pair of red wings. “Pride goeth before a fall, young man, and since your pride was so great, your fall will be great as well. The reality of the chasm will swallow you and prove the vanity of your imagined moral character.”
Elam gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his ears. The wind tossed the bridge, throwing his dangling legs into a swinging frenzy. Pulling up with all his might, he pushed his elbow over a plank and muscled his body higher until he could reach the next plank and pull again. With every two inches of progress, the bucking bridge shoved him back an inch and a half. Finally, grabbing plank after plank, he crept over the walkway and sprawled over the wooden steps, hanging on to each side rope as the bridge continued to sway.
“Do you still believe you will make it to the other side?” The woman’s voice rode the wind. “You survived only the first of many false steps, and the mishaps will only become more treacherous as you learn the true nature of this bridge. If you come back, I will hold no grudges and lead you to the safer way.”
Elam looked ahead. The other side of the chasm was still far in the distance. Twisting his neck, he looked back at the woman. She rose to her feet and held out her arms as if ready to carry him away. She wasn’t far at all. Just a short leap or two, and he’d be back to solid ground and safe in her grasp.
He clenched his fist. No! He couldn’t give up now! That would prove Merlin wrong and destroy everything he believed in! Pushing up to hands and knees, he crawled forward inch by inch, grasping each plank so tightly the ragged edges cut into his hands. Every gust halted his progress, making him steel his arms to keep from toppling over the side as the bridge swung to a precarious angle. Each time it settled, he forged ahead, more confident that the planks would hold now that his weight was distributed over four points of pressure rather than two.
After what seemed like an hour, Elam reached the lowest part of the sagging bridge. He looked back again. The woman in red stood there, much farther away than before, but his destination seemed no closer at all. And now that he was at the lowest point, the bridge swung more wildly than ever.
His hands now aching, he pushed on, gripping the crossbars ever tighter as he crawled up the swaying incline. Another hour passed, and another. Still, the other side seemed far away, not an inch closer than when he started. But it had to be closer. It didn’t make any sense to move toward something and not make any progress.