by Bryan Davis
Ashley gazed at the petite hands that clasped her fingers, then let her eyes connect with Sapphira’s sparkling blue orbs. Something deep within this amazing woman poured forth—compassionate honesty, uncompromising virtue, steadfast purpose. Nearly as old as the Earth itself, yet somehow brimming with tender youthfulness, she could be trusted without reservation.
Ashley sighed. So what did she mean when she said she saw a dragon inside me?
“Is something wrong?” Sapphira asked, laying a tender hand on Ashley’s brow. “Your mind seems so far away.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Ashley shook her head and pulled back. “I need to contact Larry and see where the guys are.” She tapped her jaw and looked up at the gray sky above the top of the pit. “Larry, can you hear me?”
Only a buzz of static responded.
“Larry?”
Again, only static.
Ashley probed for the tooth transmitter with her tongue. “Either that blast from Excalibur fried my transmitter, or Larry’s run out of power.”
“Maybe we can get a better signal up top,” Karen said.
“Possibly.” Ashley scanned the area. “It looks like we’re back in the mobility room. Let’s get some of the gravity bricks, at least one of each color besides the one I already picked up. I have an idea.”
“There should be a manual override switch on the end of the bricks,” Sapphira said. “That will turn on the light.”
After finding Ashley’s shoulder bag, Sapphira and Karen rummaged through the scattered debris until they located the remaining six types of bricks and piled them in the bag.
Ashley set a hand on Karen’s shoulder. “Help me climb on Roxil, please.”
Roxil lowered her head to the ground, making her neck a stairway to her back. “I have never flown with human passengers, and our ascent will have to be almost vertical, so be prepared for a rough ride.”
Sapphira, carrying the bag of bricks, leaned down and kissed Roxil’s cheek. “I trust you completely.”
A plume of sparks flew from the dragon’s nostrils. “Neither your trust nor your kiss will make me fly any better.”
Sapphira smiled, and her voice lilted like a song. “On the contrary, I think they will.”
Roxil huffed another stream of sparks. “You humans are such a mystery.”
With Ashley holding onto Sapphira’s shoulders and Karen supporting Ashley from behind, the three walked up Roxil’s neck and seated themselves on her back, Karen at the front and Sapphira at the rear holding the bag in her lap.
As Roxil rose to her haunches, Ashley leaned back toward Sapphira. “Ever flown before?”
“Not on a dragon. I flew pretty high over a snake-infested swamp one time, but I’ll have to tell you that story later.”
Ashley looped her arms over the spine in front of her and held on tightly. “Then hang on to me. Dragon riding is pretty rough even without a vertical climb.”
Roxil beat her wings and lifted off the ground, pointing almost straight up to avoid the mobility room walls. Flying in an upward spiral, she rose faster and faster, as if scaling the old stairway.
Ashley’s stomach churned, and Sapphira’s tight grip on her abdomen made it worse. If this vertical climb didn’t end soon, she would heave her guts for sure.
After almost three minutes, Roxil leveled off and skidded to the grass on the mountaintop.
Karen began to rise, but Ashley pushed down on her shoulders. “No use getting off. We’ll have to leave in a minute anyway.” She tapped her jaw once again. “Larry, can you hear me now?”
This time a voice seemed to break through the static, but the words were too garbled to understand.
“Larry,” she said, raising her voice, “go ahead and boost your signal even if power is low. We have to find Walter. If you’ve been in touch with him, let us know where to look.”
The static reply seemed more garbled than ever.
“Voice transmission takes too much power.” She twisted around, reached into the bag in Sapphira’s lap, and pulled out her handheld computer. She spoke again into the air as she turned it on. “Don’t bother with voice digitization. Just send ASCII characters to my handheld.”
She stared at the computer screen. At first, the LCD just stared back at her, but after a few seconds, letters began to appear, slowly at first, then faster.
Ashley read them out loud. “I have not heard from Walter, but since the media reports indicate a power grid failure, I suggest that you find a nearby power plant. Even if Walter has not gone there, perhaps you can learn what is causing the crisis.” She scanned the horizon for smokestacks. “Can you tell us where the closest one is?”
More letters lined up across the screen. “I do not have that data stored locally, and my Internet access is down. May I suggest following the power lines to their source?”
Ashley groaned. “They might lead to a transfer station, not a power plant. It could take hours to trace the source.”
“How about the tracks?” Karen said, pointing at the ground. “They might not go very far, but at least we’ll get started in the right direction.”
“True, but then what? We’ll be back to searching for power lines.”
Roxil swung her head toward her riders. “Your discussion is becoming tedious. Shall we follow the tracks or not?”
Ashley nodded. “Let’s go. It’s worth a try.”
With a gust of wind and a spray of water droplets, Roxil launched into the air again, this time with a more gentle angle. Following the footprints, they soon crossed the line of trees, and the trail was quickly obscured.
Roxil turned on her eyebeams and scanned the leaf-strewn slope. “I see only an odd imprint every once in a while, as if someone has intentionally scarred the ground.”
“Follow it, Roxil!” Ashley yelled.
Fanning out her wings, she descended to a lower flight level, staying just above the treetops. “Easily done. The marks are quite consistent.”
Ashley clenched her fist. “Good ol’ Walter,” she said with a sigh. “He remembered.”
Roxil huffed a blast of flames. “It is time to fry some giants!”
With Naamah grasping Elam’s shoulders, Dikaios galloped along the path, his stride so fast and smooth, they seemed to glide. Only a few bumps and the horse’s heavy breathing reminded them that a powerful animal carried them across the Bridgelands. The storm clouds racing behind them lost ground as the amazing creature tore across grassy meadows, leaped over small ponds, and scaled steep hogbacks as if they were tapered hillocks.
As they reached the top of a rocky ridge, Dikaios slowed to a trot, allowing his riders a moment to take in the scene before them. Pristine grasslands stretched out for miles with lush trees surrounding dozens of pools that dotted the verdant canvas, like sparkling sapphires inlaid on green velvet.
Elam whistled. “If this is just Heaven’s front porch, I wonder what it looks like inside!”
Naamah gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and whispered, “This is what Eden must have been like before the fall.”
“Words are inadequate to describe the inner beauty,” Dikaios said. “I am but a servant of the groom and have been invited inside but once. My single visit was enough to keep the vision of perfection forever imprinted in my mind. My one desire in life is for the promised day to come when I will take my master back to the Earth to do battle against the wicked. After his conquest, I will carry him inside the gate of pearls where the grass is far greener and more delicious, the air is never polluted by the odor of death, and my master shines a light that never sets or is veiled by clouds.” Dikaios turned back to Elam, blinking away tears. “Then I will stay with my master forever.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Elam said, patting the horse’s neck. “How much farther to the shield?”
“Do you see the horizon ahead, where the blue touches the grass like a curtain draped across a stage? It stretches from the plunging cli
ff on the left to the matching cliff on the right.”
Elam shaded his eyes with his hand. “I see it.”
“The blue backdrop is not sky. That is the door to the altar, Heaven’s shield.”
“The sky is actually the shield?”
“And the eastern horizon is the passage.” Dikaios looked back at the gaining storm clouds. “Let us go. We will be there very soon.”
Dikaios began with a trot, then accelerated into a full gallop. As he ran, the sky in the distance seemed to get bigger and bigger, as if it had become a painting that someone carried closer and closer every second. Finally, he stopped at a point where the grass ended at a line of blue, appearing as a cliff that plunged into nothingness.
“We have arrived,” Dikaios announced.
Elam leaned toward the barrier. “So, how do we get in? I never found the scarlet key the gatekeeper told me I needed.”
“Look at your hand. The key is already in your grasp.”
Elam opened his fingers and stared at his palm. “What do you mean? I’m not carrying anything.”
“Oh, but you are. You bear the marks of righteousness.”
Elam flexed his fingers. His hand ached, still oozing blood from the cuts and scrapes he earned on the bridge. “I think I see what you mean.”
Naamah reached forward and showed him her palm. “Mine is bloodstained, but the blood is not my own.”
“Nor does the blood on Elam’s palm belong to him.” Dikaios bobbed his head at the horizon. “Touch the shield, both of you. The righteous may enter immediately, and the contrite may plead for a new heart.”
Elam slid off and helped Naamah dismount. He edged close to the blue boundary, reaching out with his hand. As his fingers neared the expanse, he felt a tingling sensation and drew back.
“Go ahead,” Dikaios said. “It will not harm you. You have the key.”
Elam touched the border and flattened his palm against it. A hand-shaped set of tiny waves rode away from his skin, like ripples on a pond, yet they looked more like wrinkles of light—sparkling, multiple shades of blue. The sensation tickled, sending a warm flow up his arm and into his chest. His heart felt ablaze, a good, soothing heat that emanated into his brain and ignited a surge of emotion—intense, passionate feeling that couldn’t be suppressed.
“Dikaios,” Elam said loudly, “you are magnificent. You are a worthy servant to your master, and he will be pleased to have you at his side forever.”
Dikaios bowed his head but said nothing.
Elam turned to Naamah and smiled. Words poured forth unbidden as the surge of passion continued. “Your harlotries are forgiven, O daughter of the ancient days. Touch the shield of Heaven, sing a psalm to your blessed Savior, and fear not to shed your cloak, for you will be clothed with righteousness.”
Reaching out a petite, trembling hand, Naamah leaned toward the shield. As soon as her fingers touched the blue light, a radiant white halo enveloped her body. Her skin glowed, and her face shone like that of an angel. A glorious smile spread across her face, and she began jumping up and down on her toes, a beautiful song trilling from her lips.
The fruit of Eden’s ancient tree,
The seeds I plucked so long ago,
To plant and harvest scarlet sins
Are now forgiven, white as snow.
Forgiven! Shout the joyful truth!
This harlot’s wanton flesh is slain.
Forever bound unto my Lord,
I cast aside the devil’s chains!
Pulling back from the shield, Naamah stripped off the cloak, revealing a dazzling gown—a dress as white as the brightest stars. The flowers in her garland multiplied, the blossoms doubling in size, whiter than ever. She lifted her hands to the sky and twirled in a slow pirouette, but this time no song came out as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. She just laughed and laughed.
Elam lowered his hand and looked down at his own clothes. He, too, now wore white—a radiant tunic lapping over equally radiant breeches that were tied at the waist by a golden cord. He rubbed one of the tunic’s elbow-length sleeves. “It’s soft as silk!”
A low, wispy buzz, like a breeze chasing leaves on a path, sounded from the shield. The blue canvas parted in the center. A light split the two partitions, too bright to gaze upon.
Elam shielded his eyes and looked at Dikaios.
“You may enter,” the horse said. “You have been found true and thus dressed according to your character. I will watch from here for the storm and stand ready in case you need me.”
Elam bowed. “Thank you, noble horse.” He reached for Naamah’s hand. “For both of us.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Naamah curtsied. “I hope to see your master someday, face-to-face.” Rising again, she took Elam’s hand, and the two passed through the shining divide.
Chapter 17
A Tale of Two Daughters
Gabriel led Walter into a huge room inside the power plant’s office building. Light from a row of windows illuminated several rectangular control panels that stood on the floor, their tops reaching head-high. Lit up with flat-panel monitors and covered with dozens of switches and dials, the place looked like a computer geek’s dream come true.
“I saw someone come in here,” Gabriel said, “so I followed him.”
“An employee?”
“I don’t think so. He wore sandals and a calf-length tunic tied with a leather belt.”
Walter spotted a broom in one corner. “Head hippie in charge of maintenance?”
“Not likely.” Gabriel pointed at a widescreen display. “He looked at this one for quite a while, then he left through the other door. It has to be Mardon.”
Walter studied the screen. “Looks like some kind of map. It’s got an X-Y grid and lots of points.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Gabriel moved his finger along the grid. “There are ten bright points from here all the way around to here. I think the eleventh point, the middle one, represents this station, and the ten other stations kind of make a ring around it.”
Walter nodded toward the turbine room. “I saw energy beams shooting out from Chazaq’s fingers, so that accounts for ten stations, like he’s somehow connecting them all together. Think they’re making some kind of power grid of their own?”
“I’d bet on it.”
Walter pointed at a lever on the wall. “There’s an alarm shutoff.”
“I wonder why Mardon lets it blare like that.”
“Probably to keep people away. Who wants to go into a gazillion-megawatt power plant when something’s gone wrong?”
“Good point.” Gabriel grabbed the lever with both hands and pushed it down. The alarm died away.
Walter massaged one of his ears. “That’s better. It was about to drive me”
A new voice barged in. “Are you gentlemen interested in my project?”
Walter and Gabriel spun around. An oval-faced man wearing a long tunic stood at a waist-high control panel at the center of the room, his hands behind his back.
“Uh, yeah,” Walter said, edging away from the monitor. “I wanted to find out what was causing the blackouts, and when I found dead employees here, I decided to look around. Stumbling over dead bodies is kind of unusual, you know.”
“So you came here with a winged friend.” The man pushed his hand through his short white hair and walked toward them, arching his thin eyebrows. “That is also unusual, I think.”
“Yeah.” Walter laughed nervously. “Weird, isn’t it?” He pulled out Excalibur and held it in front of his body. “And this is a really weird sword. It disintegrates anyone I touch with it.”
The man halted. His eyes widened briefly, but his voice stayed calm. “Where did you get my father’s sword?”
“Your father’s?” Walter squinted at him. “This is Excalibur, King Arthur’s sword.”
“On the contrary, that is Chereb, the sword of Eden. Arthur obtained it from Morgan Le Faye, wh
o took it from King Nimrod, my father. Since my father is dead and I am his heir, the sword rightfully belongs to me.”
Walter tightened his grip. “Well, unless it has your name on it or you have your father’s last will and testament to prove it, I think I’ll hang on to it for a while.”
“So, you’re Mardon,” Gabriel said. “You’re the master of the Nephilim.”
“You two are certainly knowledgeable for random curiosity seekers.” Mardon leaned toward him and narrowed his eyes. “I take it that you’re one of the anthrozils. I heard about their existence, but you are the first I have seen. Who are your parents?”
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I’ll keep that to myself, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Mardon said, waving his hand. “It was just small talk, really. I was hoping to pass the time while I wait for my tower to be completed.”
“Your tower?” Walter asked. “What tower?”
Mardon folded his hands behind his back again and began a slow pace in front of Walter and Gabriel. “To quote your winged friend, I think I’ll keep that to myself. Tooting my own horn about my accomplishments would be entertaining, to be sure, but letting you know what my plans are would be foolhardy. Although it is not the two of you I fear, I see no reason for me to crow about what my giants are doing.”
“No fear, huh?” Walter waved the sword from side to side. “Have you ever seen Excalibur operate?”
“Long before you were born, young man.” Mardon backed away several steps and withdrew a dagger from underneath his tunic. “If you try to attack me with the blade from Excalibur, as you call it, I will merely run and hide in one of the many hallways in this edifice, which will put you at great risk should you seek me in dark places where I can ambush you.”
He nodded toward the computer displays. “If you smash my equipment, the destruction will only serve to ruin data output. It will do nothing to the actual power infrastructure my giants are creating. If you were to use the beam, which might not even work in this current hybrid dimension, you would learn that you are at the center of a vortex created by intense electromagnetic waves. The beam would be instantly absorbed by my friend up there atop the generator. You would merely be adding to my energy grid.” He put his dagger away and waved his hand at Walter. “Try it, if you wish. I will wait.”
