Enoch's Ghost

by Bryan Davis

  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.�
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  “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.

  Timothy copied Abraham’s quick dismount, and, seconds later, Grackle landed abreast of the white dragon. Wielding her club, Angel hopped to the sand and rushed into Abraham’s embrace. “Father! I cannot bear it! Without my Adam’s companion, we will lose his memory forever!”

  While Angel’s little companion caressed her tear-streaked face, Abraham hugged her close. “Dragon was a great man,” he said. “He surely lived up to the courage behind his name. We will find the murderer and restore your Adam’s presence to your children. It is our only hope to bring Dragon back to the living.”

  “But will it ever happen?” Angel pulled back and gazed into Abraham’s eyes. “The others in my village fear to raise their laments above a whisper, but you know the separated companions have been little more than painful reminders. I have hung on to this hope for almost three years, but no one has yet returned from the dead, at least none that I can remember.”

  Abraham clasped her shoulders. “We await the prophecy. I cannot promise that even that will bring back our fallen warriors, but until then, you have the reminder of your Adam’s love.”

  Closing her eyes, Angel shook her head. “A reminder will not teach Candle how to sharpen an axe or build a home, nor will it provide Listener the peace and joy of a masculine presence.” Opening her eyes again, she continued, her voice breaking. “In the evenings, it will not play sparkles during twin moons … or sing hymns in the firelight. On the coldest nights it will not wrap me in strong arms and keep me warm.” She laid her cheek on his shoulder and wept bitterly.

  Abraham patted her on the back and glanced at Timothy. “My people know so little heartache, when it comes, it devastates them. The loss of a beloved mate she slept beside every night for over one hundred years nearly killed her, and now the loss of his symbolic presence will likely tear her apart as well.”

  Wiping a tear from his own eye, Timothy nodded. “I don’t know why, but I share her pain. It’s like I’ve lost someone close, too, but I have no idea who it is.”

  “Perhaps we can soon find the answers you seek, but for now” Abraham jerked his head toward the trees on the other side of the river. “I saw something.”

  Timothy pointed. “There! Something dark. A moving shadow.”

  Angel wrung the club with her fingers and tromped into the flowing water. “An altered one!”

  Just as Timothy jumped in the shallows to stop her, the companion zoomed in front of her eyes and flashed red.

  Angel halted. As she stood knee-deep in the icy water, she sagged her shoulders. “You’re right. It is foolis
h to take the lead when the Prophet is here.”

  Abraham waded in and took her club. “We will go together.” As he scanned the churning river, an ice boulder tumbled through the current and smashed into an underwater stone, cleaving it in two. The broken halves rushed downstream, spinning in separate eddies.

  “We had better ride the dragons across,” Abraham said.

  They waded back and remounted the dragons. With his wings beating the misty air, Albatross bounded to a large stone protruding from the river, then leaped again to the opposite shore. Grackle flew gracefully across, spanning the hundred-foot-wide river without a break. Abraham leaped down, pulled Enoch’s Ghost from the bag, and strode into the woods, followed by Timothy and Angel.

  With the sun well behind the ridge and the tree canopy blocking ambient light, the landscape grew darker as they penetrated the forest’s boundary. After handing Timothy the club, Abraham cradled the ovulum in his hands. As it began to glow scarlet, he peered into the glass. “We have company,” he said. “Four … no … five of the shadow people.”

  “Will they attack?” Timothy asked.

  “Only by stealth or if they perceive they have a strong advantage. They are cowards by nature, and few will come out of hiding unless their numbers are far greater than those of their enemies.” He pulled the ovulum closer. “Aha! Our search has been blessed. I see the murderer!”

  “How can you tell?” Timothy tried to look into the ovulum. “I don’t see anything.”

  “He carries the evidence. It shines against his blackness.”

  Timothy raised the club. “What do we do?”

  “Here. Take the ovulum.” Abraham handed it to Timothy, then charged ahead and dove on the ground, his arms grasping at the forest’s failing shadows. Rising to his knees, he wrestled a dark form and dashed it against the leafy floor.

  “Help!” Angel fell to the ground. Two black hands latched on to her ankle and dragged her toward a thicket. She grasped a loose root and kicked against the arms, but her tightened fingers slid down the bark, stripping it bare.