by Ted Dekker
Johan stopped within twenty paces. “Marla! Good morning, Marla!”
A mature woman stepped into the path and ruffled Johan’s hair. “Elyon is smiling, Johan. Like the sun in the sky, he’s smiling over you.” Her eyes darted over Tom. “Is this the stranger?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must be Thomas Hunter. Most welcome to this side.” She touched his cheek and studied him for a moment. “I am the daughter of Tanis. I would say that your mother came from my brother Theo’s line. Yes, the same cheeks, the same eyes, the same mouth.” She lowered her hand. “My brother always was a handsome one. Welcome.”
“Thank you. So you think my father’s name is Theo?”
She laughed. “Not likely. But a descendant, more than likely. You don’t remember?”
“I . . . no, I hit my head.”
“Did you, now? How interesting. Take care of him, Johan.”
“Tanis and Palus are waiting for him,” Johan said.
“Tanis, of course. Perhaps the four of you could mount my father’s famous expedition.” She smiled and winked.
They passed by a woodworker who was shaping a piece of red wood. Tom paused to watch the man work. The wood moved under the crafter’s massaging fingers. He shifted for a better perspective and watched carefully. There could be little doubt about what he saw. The wood was actually moving under the woodworker’s bare hands, as if he were successfully coaxing it to reshape itself.
“What’s he doing?” Tom whispered.
“He’s making a ladle. Maybe a gift for someone. You don’t remember?”
“That’s incredible. No, I guess I don’t .”
Johan talked excitedly to Ishmael and Latfta. “You see? He doesn’t remember. He’s going to love the storytellers!” Then to Tom. “Tanis is a storyteller.” Johan pulled a small piece of red wood formed to look like a miniature lion from his pocket and handed it to Tom. “Keep this,” he said. “Maybe it will help you remember.” Johan and Latfta grabbed his hands once again and pulled him along like a prized trophy.
They found Johan’s father, Palus, talking to a man beyond the brilliant topaz arch that led into the village. The stranger’s moccasins were strapped tight, and a dark brown tunic, made from something like leather that came from one of the trees, Michal had informed him yesterday, hung above his knees. His eyes were green, of course, set into a strong tanned face that looked not a day older than thirty. The man’s legs were lean and well muscled. He looked born to run through the forest. A warrior by all appearances.
This must be Tanis. Firstborn. The oldest man on Earth.
“Ah, my dear young man, good morning to you,” Tanis said. “So very, very glad that You’ve come into our village.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Tom said. He scanned the forest at the crest of the hill beyond. “Have you seen Michal?”
“Michal? No. Have you seen Michal, Palus?”
“No, I haven’t . I’m sure he’ll be along.”
Tanis looked at Tom, left eyebrow raised. “Well, there you have it then. Michal will be along.”
“He was going to find my village for me,” Tom said.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure he will. But I think it will take him some time. In the meantime, we have some wonderful ideas.”
“Maybe I should try to help him. Won’t my family be worried?”
“No, no, certainly not. You really have lost all of your memory, haven’t you? What a thing, to experience everything as if it were the first time. It must be both exhausting and quite stimulating.”
“Wouldn’t my village worry about me?” Tom asked.
“Worry? Never! They will assume you are with Elyon, as you most definitely are. Do you think he hasn’t allowed this?”
They all stared at Tom, waiting for an answer. Silence lingered.
“Of course he has,” Tom said.
“There you go, then! Come, let us talk.” Tanis led him up the hill. Palus walked abreast, followed by the three children. Overhead, several Roush winged through the air.
“Now, I would like to know a few things before we begin,” Tanis said. “I would like to know if You’ve forgotten the Great Romance.”
“Before we begin what?”
“Before we begin to help you.”
“With what?”
“With the Great Romance, of course.”
There it was. He couldn’t escape this romance of theirs.
Tanis exchanged glances first with Palus, and then with the children. “So then you do forget. Wonderful!” He walked in a tight circle, thinking. Raised a hand. “Not wonderful that You’ve forgotten, mind you. Wonderful that you have so much to discover. As a storyteller, I must say the prospects we have here are incredible! Like an unmarked wood. Like a pond without a single ripple. Like a—”
“Well then, get on with it. Tell him!” Palus said.
Tanis stopped, hand raised. He dipped his head.
“Yes, of course. The Great Romance. Sit, sit, all of you.”
The others quickly sat on the sloping grass, and Tom eased down beside them. Tanis walked back and forth, tan tunic flowing.
“The Great Romance,” Tanis announced, one digit in the air. He spun to the children. “Tell him what the Great Romance is, Johan.”
Johan leaped to his feet. “It is the game of Elyon!” He dropped to his seat.
“A game. Yes, it is a game, I suppose. As much as any story is a story. Exactly. Well, there you have it then. The game of Elyon. I’m going to assume, perhaps correctly, that you know nothing, Thomas. In either case, I want to tell you anyway. The Great Romance is the basis for all of the stories.”
“You mean the histories?” Tom asked.
“Histories? No, I mean stories. The histories are fascinating, and I would love to talk to you about them. But the Great Romance is the root of our stories, stories that confront us with the eternal ideals. Love. Beauty. Hope. The greatest gifts. The very heart of Elyon. Do you understand?”
“Um . . . actually it sounds a bit abstract.”
“Ha! The opposite, Thomas! Do you know why we love beautiful flowers? Because we love beauty!”
They all nodded. Tom looked at them blankly.
“The point is, we were created to love beauty. We love beauty because Elyon loves beauty. We love song because Elyon loves song. We love love because Elyon loves love. And we love to be loved because Elyon loves to be loved. In all these ways we are like Elyon. In one way or another, everything we do is tied to this unfolding story of love between us and Elyon.”
Tom nodded, more because the response seemed appropriate than because he understood.
Tanis nodded with him. “Elyon’s love for us and ours for him, the Great Romance, you see, is first.” One index finger in the air. “And second” —his other index finger in the air—“that same love expressed between us.” He paused, raised both fingers above his head like goalposts, and announced emphatically, “Between man and woman!”
Palus searched Tom’s face expectantly. “Do you remember? Surely you remember.”
“Love. Yes, of course I remember love.”
“Between a man and a woman,” Palus pressed.
“Sure. Yes, between a man and a woman. Romance.”
Tanis clapped once, loudly enough to pass for a thunderclap. “Exactly! Romance!”
“Romance!” a voice cried behind them. Three Roush led by none other than Gabil drifted in for a landing. The other two quickly introduced themselves as Nublim and Serentus. When Tom asked if the names were male or female, Gabil laughed. “No, Roush are not like that. No romance, not like that at all.”
“Unfortunately, not like that at all,” Nublim said.
“Do you want to play?” Johan asked Gabil, jumping to his feet.
“Of course!”
As if on cue, all three children ran after the Roush, sending them hooting in flight down the hill.
The two village elders immediately put their arms around Tom’s shoulders and turned him uphill.
“Now the question, my dear friend, is, of course” —Tanis looked across at Palus—“Rachelle.”
It was all starting to make sense to Tom, but the implications were surprising. So bold. So unabashed. The village leader, this firstborn, and Palus were actually trying to set him up with Rachelle!
All he could manage was, “Rachelle.”
Palus clapped again. “Exactly! You have it! My daughter, Rachelle! She’s chosen you!”
“And that’s why we are here to help you,” Tanis said. “You’ve lost your memory, and we’re going to help you remember. Or at least learn again. We think—”
“Perhaps I should say . . . ,” Palus began, hand uplifted.
“Yes, of course, you should say it.”
“We know there will be a wonderful romance between you and my daughter, Rachelle, but we realize you may not know how to proceed.”
“Well . . .”
“It’s perfect! I saw it in your eyes the moment we met yesterday.”
“You saw what?”
Tanis led him farther up the hill. “You find her beautiful, yes?”
“Yes.”
“She must know this if you are to win her.”
Tom wanted to ask the one question begging a voice here. Namely, what if he didn’t want to win her? But he couldn’t bring himself to betray his promise to Michal to play along or dampen the enthusiasm of Rachelle’s father.
“I could write your story,” Tanis continued. “A wonderful play of love and beauty, but then it would be mine, not yours. You must tell your own story. Or, in this case, live it. And to understand how love unfolds, you must understand how Elyon loves.”
The sheer momentum of their zeal carried Tom. He asked the question he knew Tanis was demanding he ask. “And how does Elyon love?”
“Excellent question! He chooses.”
“He chooses,” Palus repeated.
“He pursues.”
“He pursues,” said Rachelle’s father, fist clenched.
“He rescues.”
“He rescues.”
“He woos.”
“He woos.”
“He protects.”
It was like a Ping-Pong match.
“He protects. Ha!”
“He lavishes,” Tanis shouted.
Palus stopped. “Is that one of them?”
“Why not?”
“I mean, is that normally placed with the others?”
“It should be.”
They looked at each other for a moment.
“He lavishes,” cried Palus.
“This, my dear Thomas, is what you should do to win Rachelle’s heart.”
“Elyon does all this?”
“Yes, of course. You’ve forgotten him as well?” This seemed to astound both of them.
“No, not entirely. It’s coming back, you know.” He quickly diverted the discussion back to Rachelle. “Forgive my” —he tapped his head—“density here, but exactly what does a woman need rescuing from? There is no evil this side of the black forest. Right?”
Again, they stared at each other.
“My, my, it is strange, this memory loss of yours,” Tanis said. “It’s a game, man! A play! Something to take pleasure in. You give a flower to a maiden, why? Because she needs nourishment? No, because she wants it.”
“What’s that got to do with rescuing? What would she need rescuing from?”
“Because she wants to feel rescued, Thomas. And she wants to feel chosen. As much as you are desperate to be chosen. We all are. Elyon chooses us. He rescues us and protects us and woos us and, yes, lavishes love on us. This is the Great Romance. And this is how you will win Rachelle’s heart.”
Tom wasn’t sure he wanted to ask again, but honestly he still didn’t understand their concept of rescuing.
“Tell him, Palus,” Tanis said. “I think maybe a story would be a good idea here. I could write it for you to read before you go into battle for this love.”
“Battle?” Tom said. “Now it’s a battle?”
“Figuratively,” Palus said. “You know, you win a woman’s heart as you would win a battle. Not as if you were fighting the Shataiki in flesh and blood, of course, because we never do that.”
“Not yet we don’t ,” Tanis said. “But there may come a time. Very soon, even. We’ve been thinking of an expedition to teach those terrible bats a lesson or two.”
Michal’s concern.
“They are confined to the black forest,” Tom said. “Why not just leave them there to rot?”
“Because of what they have done!” Tanis cried. “They are evil, despicable creatures who need a lesson teaching, I’m telling you! We know from the histories what they are capable of. Do you think I’m content to just sit back and let them plot their way across the river? Then you don’t know me, Thomas Hunter. I have been working on a way to finish them for good!”
There was no lack of passion in his diatribe. Even Palus seemed slightly taken aback. There was something amiss in his reasoning, but Tom couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Either way, we often pretend to fight with the same kind of passion and vigor we would in a real fight with the Shataiki,” Palus said. “Show him, Tanis. Just show him.”
Tanis made a stance similar to those of the martial arts from Tom’s dreams of the histories. “Okay then—”
“You know martial arts?” Tom asked.
Tanis stood up. “That’s what they called it in the histories. You know the histories?”
“Well, I’m dreaming of them. In my dreams I know the martial arts.”
“You’re dreaming of the histories, but you forget everything here because you hit your head,” Palus said. “Now, that is something.”
“That’s what Michal thinks.”
“And Michal is very wise.” Tanis glanced around, as if checking for the white furry. “How much detail do you dream about? How much do you know?”
“I don’t know what happens after the Raison Strain, but before then, I know quite a bit.”
“You can tell me how Napoleon won his wars? What strategy he used?”
Thomas tried to think. “No, I don’t know that I ever studied Napoleon. But I suppose I could find out. I could read a history book in my dreams.”
The notion seemed to stun Tanis. “My, my. You can do that?”
“Actually, I’ve never tried. But I’m doing it the other way.” He shifted on his feet. “What I mean is, it’s occurred to me. Do you know anything about the Great Deception? The virus?”
“Not enough. Not nearly enough, but more than most. It happened before the great tribulations, I do know that. The only two around these parts who would know all the histories are the wise ones. Michal and Teeleh, though Teeleh is no longer a wise one. Michal is convinced the histories are a distraction that could lead us down the wrong path. And Teeleh . . . If I ever were so fortunate as to lay my eyes on Teeleh, I would tear him limb from limb and burn the parts!”
“Michal is right,” Tom said. “An expedition would be pointless. I’ve been in the black forest and I can tell you, the Shataiki are wicked. They very nearly killed me.”
This last admission proved to be nearly too much for Tanis. “You’ve been in the black forest? Over the Crossing?”
He was so excited that Tom wondered if he’d taken the wrong turn by telling him. But Michal had suggested it, hadn’t he? How could he dissuade Tanis without this admission?
“Yes. But I barely survived.”
“Tell us, man! Tell us everything! I’ve seen the black forest from a distance and seen the black bats flying overhead, but I’ve never worked up the nerve to approach the river.”
“That’s how I lost my memory. I fell in the black forest. Gabil led me out, but not before the bats had nearly chewed me to the bone.”
“That’s it? I need more detail, man. More!”
“That’s about it.”
Tanis eyed him in wonder. “I can see that you and I would make a
n excellent team,” he said. “I could teach you how to fight, and you could teach me the histories!”
“Rachelle is waiting,” Palus said patiently.
Although Tom wasn’t altogether in sync with the Great Romance, it suddenly sounded far better than delving into details of the black forest or the histories with Tanis. Either way, Tanis knew less than Tom did about the virus. He would be no help in uncovering more detail.
Unless the answers were in the black forest, and Tanis could help him get those answers from the black forest.
“Yes, the Great Romance,” Tom said.
Tanis nodded. “Okay, but later we must talk. We must!” He spread his arms and looked up the hill. “Okay then, pretend that Palus is Rachelle. Just pretend now, it’s only a story. There she is, and here you are.” He pointed to the ground by his feet. “First, I will say that you have given her many flowers and wooed her with many words, telling her precisely how she makes your heart melt and why her hair reminds you of waterfalls and . . . well, you get the idea.” He was still standing with arms spread, slightly crouched as if to receive an attack.
“You see, this will soften her heart. Whisper in her ear and keep your voice low so that she knows you are a strong man.” He stopped and considered Tom for a moment. “Perhaps later I can give you some of the right things to say. Would you like that? I am very good at romance.”
Tom was too far into their game to suggest anything but wholehearted endorsement now. “Yes,” he said.
“Okay, that’s wooing. You will become very good at this activity. We woo our women every day. But back to the rescue.” He flexed his legs. “Now, as I was saying, Palus is Rachelle and you are here. Down the hill comes a flock of the black bats. The Shataiki. You can dispatch them easily enough, of course, because you’re a man of great might. The object here, though, isn’t only to dispatch the vermin, but to rescue your beauty while you do so. Are you following me?”
“Yes, I think so. Dispatch the vermin and rescue the beauty.”
“Exactly. With your legs flexed as so, you throw one arm out to Rachelle and ready the other to beat back the bats. Then you cry in a loud voice, so that she knows everyone in the valley can hear your statement of valor.” And here Tanis thundered to Palus, “Come, my love, throw yourself into my arm of iron, and I will strike the withering beasts from the air with my other, a fist of stone.”
