Enoch's Ghost

by Bryan Davis

  Walter squeezed Excalibur’s hilt and summoned the beam, but the blade merely reflected the light from the windows. “Nothing’s happening,” Walter said, lowering the sword. “It looks like I’ll have to stop Chazaq the old-fashioned way.”

  “Chazaq?” Mardon glanced out the window. “Oh, that’s not Chazaq. But I suppose they all look alike to you, don’t they? My little power grid is fairly local, not enough to collapse the national grid, so Chazaq traveled to a larger facility, and, in concert with a few of Morgan’s surviving accomplices in other cities, he made sure power would fail throughout the country. You see, widespread panic keeps the authorities too busy to find my tower, and he is the only one intelligent enough for that mission.”

  “Well, it was an enlightening experience talking to you,” Gabriel said with a slight bow, “but we really have to go.”

  “I understand. You have to warn your friends and bring them here to try to stop me.” Mardon wiggled his fingers at them. “Run along, then.”

  Walter shot a sideways glance at Gabriel. “That was too easy.”

  “Yeah. Something’s not right.”

  “Gentlemen,” Mardon said, “I have no power to keep you here. You have a sword, and my giant is occupied for a while. If you wish to wait for Chazaq’s return, by all means, do so. Then, I will be able to dispose of you at will.”

  “No, thanks.” Gabriel laid a hand on Walter’s back, and the two hustled to the turbine room, then up the elevator to the service road entrance, staying quiet while the roar of river water drowned out every other sound.

  When they arrived at the guard station, Walter looked in on the dead guard, still propped against the wall. He eyed a radio hanging loosely on the man’s belt. Reaching into the broken window, he pushed the call button. “Can anyone hear me?”

  He released the button and waited. Nothing. Not even static. Sighing, he backed away from the window. “We’re getting nowhere fast.”

  Gabriel fanned out his wings and leaned against the guardhouse. “Well, we got some information out of Mardon. We know he’s creating some kind of tower from the electromagnetic vortex, Chazaq’s doing something sinister to keep the rest of the country in chaos, and someone or something has the power to stop Mardon’s plans.”

  “Because he said we weren’t the ones he feared, meaning that he probably feared someone else.”

  Gabriel pointed at Walter. “Bingo!”

  Walter turned to the highway and scanned the wet, vacant pavement. “There’s only one person I know who’s smart enough to figure it all out.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Sapphira.”

  “Ashley,” Walter said at exactly the same time.

  Timothy felt Angel’s gentle tug on his elbow pulling him into the brilliant light. Even within his shielding jacket, it seemed to be as bright as day. As he ventured farther in, his companion brushed against his ear. Always follow the light, it whispered directly into his mind. Darkness is the way of death and the shelter of those who fear the light.

  Timothy didn’t really know how to speak to the companion, so he tried directing a thought toward it. Am I giving in to darkness by covering my head?Indeed not. A time will come when you will see all glories unveiled. For now, you must behold heavenly glory with shielded eyes.The hand lifted from his elbow and guided his fingers to the side wall. “I have to go back a little ways,” Angel said. “I will wait for you there.”

  He imagined her walking away, her head bowed and her airy pantaloons swaying as she escaped the blinding blast. The light was still working its magic. His love for her—a pure, holy love—overflowed, bringing tears to his eyes.

  The light blazed brighter and brighter. Even with his eyes clenched shut, they tingled and burned. He turned around and walked backwards, dragging his fingertips along the wall. Even then, the light overwhelmed his senses. How could he go on? It would only get worse.

  As he continued to back into the tunnel, the overwhelming sense of love seemed to transform. Love was still abundant, but something else was added—a presence of grandeur, a bigness that towered over him … no, that enveloped him, embracing arms so huge their owner had to be ten times the size of the Nephilim of old. What was it? Pure otherness? A being incomparable? Now barely able to move, Timothy pulled off his shoes and socks and laid them on the ground. This was the answer to the mystery. This path to Heaven was surely holy ground.

  Finally, he bumped into something, a flexible wall of some kind that gave a little, then pushed back. He halted and felt the barrier, smooth and tactile, like a rubber membrane.

  Gritting his teeth, he turned to face it and called out, “Is the Oracle of Fire here?”

  “I am here,” a female voice replied. The voice seemed light and happy, like a songbird in springtime.

  “I have come at the bidding of Abraham to ask about Enoch’s hymn, the prophecy concerning this land.”

  “You have done well to come. I have been waiting for you.”

  Timothy pointed at himself. “Does that mean I am the man in the prophecy?”

  “You are,” came the gentle reply.

  “What must I do?”

  “Gaze into the oracle. I will reveal the truths you will need in order to bring about what God has planned for this world.”

  Timothy grimaced. How could he possibly remove the shield and open his eyes? The light would burn the balls right out of their sockets!

  His companion nestled closer to his ear. You have come this far. Will you turn back now? Will you return to Abraham and Angel without an answer?

  He shook his head. You’re right. I’d feel like a fool for the rest of my life. Slowly unzipping his jacket, he slid it down to his shoulders. Fresh, sweet-smelling air wafted across his skin. Then, bracing himself, he opened his eyes.

  Instead of scorching pain, the glorious light bathed his eyes with comfort. The wall ahead of him looked like pure crystal, a flexible diamond that undulated as though a breeze played across its surface. Just beyond it, a girl stood in a hooded cloak of royal blue, opened at the front to reveal a brilliant white gown. She lowered her hood, allowing her long snowy hair to flow in the heavenly wind.

  Timothy’s jaw slackened. Those eyes! Such sparkling blue eyes! The most perfect pair of sapphires in the entire world, gleaming in the radiance of her abode, appearing to laugh as she smiled.

  “You seem surprised, Timothy Autarkeia.”

  “I … uh …” He forced his jaw closed and licked his lips. “I am surprised. I did not expect to see an angel, especially one who knows my name.”

  “And your former name, Makaidos, king of the dragons. Our heavenly father knows all your names, and he loves you whether you are in dragon or human form.”

  The wind that played on her hair pushed toward him, kissing his cheeks and warming his body from head to toe. Heat rushed into his ears. Tears flooded his eyes. Swallowing hard, he tried to speak, but his breath seemed sucked away. “I’m … not worthy. I’m only …” He couldn’t go on. He just dropped to his knees and wept. As his body heaved, his companion caressed his cheek, whispering, God is love …God is love.

  After a moment or two, he gazed at the lovely girl again. Staying on his knees and taking in a deep draught of the gentle wind, his throat loosened and strength flowed through every muscle. “I have been anointed by your holy breath, and the touch has invigorated me.”

  “It is not my breath,” she said. “It is God’s breath, his empowering inspiration. Our father has endowed you with the ability to carry out a task that would otherwise be impossible. He finds pleasure in using mortal vessels to bring about eternal purposes.”

  Timothy wrung his hands together, trembling. “What must I do now?”

  “The prophecy mentions two hearts—your two daughters.” She spread her arm toward a scene behind her. “Gaze upon them now and restore your memory.”

  The wind stiffened, ruffling his hair and warping the crystal barrier. Thinning out like a diffus
ing mist, the lovely oracle faded away. Gray skies replaced the darker backdrop, framing the head and neck of a tawny dragon in midflight.

  “I see only an odd imprint every once in a while,” the dragon said, “as if someone has intentionally scarred the ground.”

  A voice called out from somewhere unseen. “Follow it, Roxil!”

  Timothy snatched a gulp of air. “Roxil!”

  The dragon extended its wings and flew just above the treetops. “Easily done. The marks are quite consistent.”

  Timothy’s heart pounded. “My daughter,” he said, now louder than a whisper.

  Flames shot toward Timothy, splashing against the inside of the barrier. The edges of the scene caught on fire and burned toward the middle, revealing another scene behind it, a close-up of a pale and haggard young lady. A strong breeze whipped her hair, and she held on to a red-headed girl seated in front of her.

  As before, a voice called from offscreen. “Ashley! I see them! I see Walter and Gabriel!”

  Once again, Timothy’s heart raced. “Ashley?” Tears formed as his voice crumbled. “Is that my little girl?”

  Ashley looked straight into the screen, as if staring right at Timothy. Pale and weak, she nodded. “Thank God!”

  Again, a fireball splashed against the screen, setting it ablaze. As it burned away, the cloaked oracle filled the undulating curtain.

  “My daughters!” Timothy cried, his entire body quaking. “Are they really alive? Where are those places I saw?”

  Her smile seemed to massage away his tremors. “Roxil and Ashley are living, though the lives of both hang by a thread. Ashley will give her life energy to the fallen until she breathes her last breath. Roxil lives on the Earth now only because the tomb of the dead has merged with the land of the living. Unknowingly, she and Ashley do battle against the evil force that has merged the two worlds, and if they succeed, Roxil will once again plunge into that nether land.”

  His throat cramped, pitching his voice higher. “So, if my two daughters do what they are called to do, they will perish.”

  “Yes, if not for the costliest solution of all.” The oracle tilted her head upward and began to sing, her voice more beautiful than ever.

  In desperation’s hope he calls,

  “A soul to trade, a soul to sell,”

  For better one to suffer flames,

  Than daughters loved to burn in Hell.

  She looked at him again, her eyes blazing blue. “A sacrificial lamb could provide the soul to trade, but only if it comes willingly. The lamb has no obligation to make this trade, so you cannot use any coercion.” She took a step closer to the crystal curtain, magnifying her lovely face. “Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” he said, his voice still cracking. He cleared his throat and lifted his head. “What must I do?”

  “Your task is simple in concept, yet tragically difficult to carry out. The lamb has already been prepared, pure and innocent. Once you bring this sacrifice, you will complete your journey and prepare this world for yet another journey to come.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Another journey?”

  “The coming of the warrior chief. You see, a tare has been planted among the wheat, a deceiver who will attempt to bring about Eden’s fall. If the corrupter succeeds, then corruption will spread like cancer and destroy this world as well as the one your daughters live in. But that journey is far beyond your horizon.”

  “This lamb I’m supposed to find—how is the sacrifice to be made? I can’t bear the thought of killing someone pure and innocent. That seems impossible.”

  The oracle pointed at the tunnel’s floor. “Just bring the lamb here, and that is where my counsel ends. You have many decisions to make, and wisdom comes from seeking the light as you take each step in your journey. Otherwise, you would never arrive at your ultimate goal. You will learn, however, that although our heavenly father’s ultimate purpose is more firm than the foundations of the Earth, his plans on how to accomplish them can change according to the actions of those who serve him.” The oracle backed away from the barrier, and the light began to fade. “Go now. When you have completed your task, come back to this place and receive the blessing you seek, the blessing of spiritual deliverance for your daughters.”

  As the glow continued to diminish, her voice dwindled to a faint whisper. “Remember, this journey is your choice, not a command.”

  The light blinked out, leaving Timothy in darkness. Still on his knees, he groped for the floor, his eyes emblazoned with the radiant images—the oracle, Roxil, Ashley—all flashing in a photo-negative collage.

  Crawling back toward the entrance, he found his shoes and socks and picked them up. While rising to his feet, he lurched sideways and had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling. A hand touched his, then a quiet voice whispered, “I am here, Timothy. Let me lead you.”

  Angel looped her arm around his and guided him to the outside. Now in the light, he could see Abraham and the surrounding trees, though they were blurry and superimposed on the image of the white-robed girl.

  “Sit,” Angel said, “and I will help you with your shoes.”

  A pair of stronger hands guided him to the ground. As he leaned back on the stony cliff, small, delicate fingers massaged his cold feet, then pushed socks over his toes and stretched them up to his calves. “I sense a change in you,” she said, her voice sympathetic and warm. “Even your face glows. The light of the oracle has pierced your soul and enflamed a new passion.”

  Timothy blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. “It has, but I am unsure whom I should tell.”

  “Tell no one,” Abraham said, “at least for now. Let wisdom guide you, and listen to your companion.”

  After slipping on his shoes, Angel fumbled with the strings. “I have not fastened shoes like these before. Shall I just tie a knot?”

  Timothy reached for them. “Thank you. I’ll do it.”

  With the help of four hands, he got up and brushed off his clothes. He looked around at the tunnel’s threshold, his eyes still adjusting. Bones of shadow people littered the ground in various shades of gray. The newest victim’s remains, still bright white, lay near Timothy’s feet.

  He sidestepped the debris and hobbled toward the sound of the river. “Are we finished here, Abraham?”

  “We are.”

  Abraham was now walking at his side, and he assumed Angel followed as they exited the woods and came in sight of the dragons. “Good. I need to rest and think for a while. It’s been a very long day.”

  “Indeed.” Abraham guided him to Albatross. “You may have my bed tonight, and we will talk in the morning.”

  Timothy glanced at Angel. She shuffled toward Grackle, her head hanging low. “Abraham,” he said, “will I see Angel again tomorrow?”

  Angel turned toward them, a smile brightening her face.

  “Is that your wish?” Abraham asked.

  “I would like to speak to Candle and Listener, if I may.”

  “Ah!” Abraham stroked his short beard. “You wish to learn through the eyes of our young ones.”

  “That’s true enough, but it’s also a good excuse to get their wise mother at my side.”

  Angel averted her eyes, grinning. She scrambled up Grackle’s neck and let out a series of whistles. “Let us fly!” she called, beaming as she looked back at Timothy. “Dawn will bring us a day of joy!” The purple dragon reared and took off into the moonlit sky.

  Chapter 18

  The New Tower

  Ashley groaned and held on tightly to Karen. Compared to riding Thigocia, flying aboard Roxil was like careening around the hairpin turns on a malfunctioning rollercoaster. The younger dragon’s inexperience promised a meal-losing adventure. With every gust of wind, she corrected her angle without regard for her passengers, giving them hair-raising dips and swings through the misty skies. The three riders could barely speak during their ordeal, choosing inste
ad to pray for calmer winds and settled stomachs.

  After a half hour of low swoops to check for Walter’s marks and quick upswings to search on a wider plane, Sapphira pointed at the road far in the distance. “Ashley! I see them! I see Walter and Gabriel!”

  Ashley glanced at the two young men. Even though they looked tiny from so far away, the sight brought a surge of joy. “Thank God!”

  Karen spoke through two fingers pressed over her lips. “Thank God is right!”

  “I’ll let them know we’re coming!” Roxil spewed a blast of fire and zoomed to the ground, pulling up sharply to land between Walter and Gabriel. Not bothering to wait for Roxil to make a neck stairway, Karen slid down the dragon’s side, deftly avoiding her wing. She staggered toward the guardhouse and leaned against the wall, her fingers still pressed against her lips. Suddenly, her eyes bulged, and she jumped back, pointing at the broken window, “Who’s that man? He looks dead!”

  “He is dead.” Walter reached up to help Sapphira and Ashley as they negotiated Roxil’s sloping neck. “He’s a power company guard, and I’m wearing his coat. I think a Naphil strangled him.”

  “Is the Naphil here?” Sapphira asked. “Is it Chazaq?”

  Walter took the shoulder bag from Sapphira and pointed past a mangled fence. “The Naphil’s in there. It’s not Chazaq, but you’ll never guess who else we saw.”

  Sapphira’s eyes brightened. “Mardon?”

  “Well … yeah. I guess it wasn’t so hard to figure out.”

  Walter and Gabriel took turns as they told the story of what they saw inside the power plant. Gabriel provided a glowing account of Walter’s bravery as he climbed up to the generator and tried to play the role of lumberjack, but Walter elbowed Gabriel’s ribs and said he was exaggerating. When Walter concluded with a description of Mardon’s power grid and his mention of the tower, Sapphira turned pale.