He pressed forward, closing his eyes to shut out the bottomless canyon and the seemingly unreachable goal at the end of the bridge. Plank by plank, they would eventually all pass under his hands and knees. There couldn’t be an infinite number. That would be impossible.
Glewlwyd’s words came back to his mind.
“In your world, yes, but here you must get accustomed to many new realities.”
Then the taunts from the woman in red echoed.
“The mishaps will only become more treacherous as you learn the true nature of this bridge.”
Elam looked ahead again and sighed. Still no closer. How could that be? Since he had been crawling upward for hours, he had to be way past the midpoint. Was that the bridge’s true nature, that it really was endless?
Sprawling once again, he rested and let the bridge swing his body in a peaceful sway, like a baby in a windblown cradle. He was too tired to go on. The other side was just too far away. The infinite was simply beyond his grasp.
A voice whispered in his ear. “Have you given up the quest, Elam?”
He jerked his head up. No one was in sight. “Who said that?”
“I am an old friend. Close your eyes and ease your mind, for only rest will prepare you for the long journey ahead.”
“Your voice
is
familiar.” Laying his head back down, Elam closed his eyes and yawned. “Where have we met?”
The voice was soft and soothing. “Many times in many places, but that is not important. For now, you must sleep.”
“But if I sleep, I might roll off the bridge.”
“No one who trusts in the bridge will ever fall off.”
“But I almost did, way back at the beginning. The steps broke.”
“True enough, but after you lost your bag and crawled, how many steps gave way?”
Elam brought the sight of thousands of stepping planks into his mind. “None gave way. But the wind made it almost impossible to crawl, and I just can’t seem to get to the end. It never gets any closer.”
“Storms blow on us all, and the goal seems unattainable to the mortal mind, to those who believe in their inability to take hold of what is freely given.”
“So what do I do?”
The voice blended in with the whistling wind. “Reflect on these signs. Rely on the bridge. Rest in your faith. Only then can you do the impossible.”
As the breeze rocked him back and forth, Elam relaxed his grip and rode with the swing. He let his mind drift, recalling all the years of suffering at Morgan’s hands, the months of hunger, backbreaking work, flea-infested flophouses in Glasgow, and worst of all, the endless days of separation from Sapphira Adi, the only girl he could ever imagine as his wife. Even after thousands of years of knowing her, the time for their union was still far in the future, years that seemed as numerous as the planks on the bridge. There was too much to do—journeys that couldn’t wait.
Soon, he was asleep, dreaming of the trials of yesterday. In his dream, he put Morgan and Naamah into his shoulder bag, then the coal-stained cap he always wore at the Glasgow shipyards, and finally, a gold band, a wedding ring, pausing to gaze at it for a moment before he let it drop inside.
Standing at the center point of the bridge, he slung the bag into the chasm, then, not bothering to watch it fall, he ran across the bridge toward the destination side, closing his eyes and leaping for the brink. He tumbled into the soft grass and lay there, taking in the delightful aroma of the surrounding flowers.
Elam fluttered his eyelids open. Blades of grass veiled his view. The aroma of fresh flowers graced his senses as the yellow and white head of a daisy bowed toward his nose, giving way to the breeze.
Leaping to his feet, he spun toward the yawning canyon. It was behind him, the impassable gulf now a mere crack in the sidewalk. The woman in red was gone.
He lifted his feet up and down in turn. The solid ground never felt so good. He held up his stinging, aching hands, gashed across the palms from thumb to little finger and oozing blood. He smiled in spite of the pain. Although every muscle ached, he never felt better in his life. There was no greater feeling than to conquer the impossible, even when given help by the infinite.
Turning his back to the chasm, he strode ahead toward the rise in the distance, the vista he had hoped to use as an overlook to get the lay of the land. When he crested the hill, he gazed out over the lower elevations all around, but trees blocked his view in every direction.
He set his hands on his hips. That spyglass sure would come in handy now, but it wouldn’t do any good to wish for something he had lost and couldn’t get back.
As he scanned the scene, his own vision seemed enhanced. Every detail was sharp and magnified, similar to how Sapphira had described her vision whenever she came near a portal location. The colors were breathtaking—dazzling blue ponds, flowers that seemed so saturated with reds, oranges, and yellows they were ready to drip, and trees so green, his mother’s emerald paled in comparison.
He jerked his gaze back to a small pond in a stand of massive trees. Something moved near its edge. Leaping forward, he galloped down the hill. The spongy grass cushioned every step, and when he arrived at the pond, he didn’t feel winded at all. Sweeping the area with his gaze, he searched for the source of movement, but not a leaf stirred. Near the border of the pond, however, hoofprints marred the rich earth.
He stooped at the prints and looked out over the crystal pool, a perfect circle no wider than he could leap if he had a running start. With the water so clear, he could see the tiniest details in the smooth stones at the bottom, yet its depth seemed a mystery. Could it be five feet? Fifty feet? The clarity made it difficult to tell.
“Drink, stranger. The water is free.”
Elam shot to his feet and swung around. A beautiful white horse stood a few paces away, its tail swishing, though there wasn’t a fly to be seen.
“Did you speak?” Elam asked.
The horse turned its head one way, then the other before looking at Elam again. “Since there is no one else here,” it replied in a bass tone, “I assume your deductive reasoning is sorely lacking. But it is no sin to be without sense, so …” He bowed his head low. “My name is Dikaios.”
Elam bowed with him. “And I am Elam.”
Dikaios turned his head to look Elam in the eye. “You are an interesting specimen.”
Patting his torso, Elam checked for changes in his body. “Why? Don’t I look human?”
“Indeed, you are human in form, but we are not concerned with shape or skin here. Yet I must say that you have already behaved unlike most humans I have ever seen.”
Elam stooped and stirred the water with his finger. “I hope you weren’t offended that I didn’t drink from the pool even after you offered.”
“Not at all. Many humans are careful about what they drink in strange lands. Your inaction is merely prudence.”
“The water looks safe. I just wasn’t thirsty.”
“You will not become thirsty here, but this water is a delicious gift that you are free to take at any time.”
“Thank you,” Elam said, rising to his feet. “I appreciate it.”
The horse shook its head. “Do not thank me. Thank the one who provides it.”
“I will be sure to do that.” Elam scanned the area on the other side of the pool. “I need to get to Heaven’s altar to find some friends. Could you tell me how to get there?”
Dikaios eyed him again. “Stranger and stranger.”
Elam squinted at the horse. Why wouldn’t he answer a simple question? Would every creature in this place be so oblique? He cleared his throat. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Dikaios, but I must move on now.” He bowed again and began walking around the pond.
With a swift gallop, Dikaios blocked his way. “You may ride me,” he said in a gruff tone.
Elam halted. “I didn’t ask to ride you.”
“But you want to.” Dikaios lowered his head. “All humans want a ride.”
“Is that so?” Elam chuckled. “If I were tired or in need of a swift transport, I might have asked for a ride. But since I don’t even know where I’m going …” Patting the horse’s neck, Elam passed him by. “I won’t be a burden to you.”
As he strolled, Elam heard the sound of hoof steps behind him, soft and slow. Soon, the bobbing head of a horse appeared at his side. “I am coming with you,” Dikaios said, “because you have piqued my curiosity.”
Elam smiled. “You are certainly welcome to join me, but if you know the way, perhaps you would like to lead.”
“Do not think of Heaven’s altar as a physical destination,” Dikaios said. “Although it exists in a real place in this dimension, it is better to perceive it as a spiritual objective, gained by inner purity. Once your character is proven, you will find it.”
A shadow glided over the grassy carpet, causing Elam to look skyward. A golden brown eagle soared overhead, its wings in full sail, riding the wind with hardly a flutter. “So,” Elam said, sliding a hand into his pocket, “maybe I’ll just keep looking around this place until something happens. It’s hard to have a plan when there’s no road map to follow.”
Dikaios gently nudged Elam with his nose. “You must not be casual about this journey. It is too dangerous.”
“Casual?” Elam halted and crossed his arms. “My good horse, there’s a big difference between casual and confident. I’m aware of the danger, but …” As he searched his mind for the right words, Merlin’s warnings flowed through his lips. “I want to maintain a confident mind-set in full assurance of faith, otherwise my heart might melt within me.”
“Ah! An excellent speech! No doubt you have rehearsed it, but it is a good, wise saying, so there is no harm in reciting it.” Dikaios shook his head hard, scattering his mane into disarray. “But it will take more than words to pass the tests you are about to face. I have yet to see a human make it through the shield of Heaven without special concourse, but you are quite unusual, so I will watch with interest.” The horse’s eyes seemed to grow larger as he drew closer. “Take care that your confidence does not swell into arrogance, for that is the downfall of every man of pride.”
Chapter 10
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.