by Bryan Davis
Enoch halted and nodded at Zane. “You and your fellows must stand in the path coming from Earth. Your goal is to keep the energy flow from striking Acacia when she moves into position to unleash our weapon.”
Zane bowed his head. “We will be honored.”
Joining Zane at his side, Elam clenched his fist. “We’ll make sure we block it. You can count on us.”
“Not you, my son. Not yet.” Enoch curled his finger, gesturing for Elam to come closer. “If you were to walk into a cross-dimensional path without protection, it could easily kill you. Zane and his followers are already dead, and the bodies they have now should not be affected by the connecting path.”
Elam ground his teeth together. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Leaning close, he whispered, “What do we do if they can’t block the flow? I don’t have enough confidence in them to risk Acacia’s life. Since she’s still alive, wouldn’t the path hurt her, too?”
“Acacia is the only one who can accomplish her task,” Enoch whispered back, “and she is aware of the risk. So, the connection beam must be broken at all costs. Otherwise, millions on the Earth could die.”
“But if Zane and his men fail, is there any other option?”
Enoch glanced at the ten men once more before answering. “There is another option, a short prophecy I received last night, but I hope we don’t have to face it.” Drawing Elam even closer, Enoch sang quietly into his ear.
Son of man, O son of mine,
Your land has need of cleansing rain.
Conspiring teachers weave their lies
To make the holy foul, profane.
Art thou a son or just a hire?
Go stand before your land of sin
To stay my angels’ swords of fire
And fill the gap from deep within.
Enoch pushed Elam back and laid a palm across his cheek. “Do you understand, Elam, my son?”
“Yes, Father Enoch.” Elam let out a long sigh. “I think I do.”
As daylight faded, Abraham and Timothy strolled along the road that led to the birthing garden. With the people of the village settling down for their evening meal, the two men had no need to assume the praying posture. As doors opened and closed in the humble homes to allow latecomers entry, firelight revealed fathers, mothers, and children gathered around stone tables, some with hands linked in prayer, others already enjoying the bounty of the harvest—food, warmth, and love.
The aroma of stewing vegetables hung in the chilled air. Timothy took a long sniff. Pepper and paprika spiced his nostrils and stung the back of his throat, a good sting that raised memories of Hannah’s homemade sausages, hot and steaming on the plate as she gazed at him lovingly, waiting for him to take the first delicious bite.
The fragrance of the villagers’ contentment carried both bliss and pain. Memories brought smiles, yet coated his heart with sorrow. With Hannah dead, that bliss was forever gone, burned away with the flames that ravaged their home. He blew a sigh and pushed his hands into his pockets. His companion nuzzled his ear but kept quiet.
As they reached the end of the road and stepped onto a dirt path, Abraham laid an arm over Timothy’s shoulder. “You have held your tongue all day. Will you tell me nothing of your meditations?”
“I can tell you some.” Timothy kicked a pebble to the side. “Since Enoch’s Ghost didn’t tell us anything about Hannah’s fate, it wouldn’t be right for me to live here. Angel would want to become my Eve, and I couldn’t bear to say no, especially when I don’t have a proven reason. She’s an excellent woman, and if I could, I’d be her Adam in a heartbeat. But, as it stands, I can’t, and torturing her any further would be a crime.”
“Not to mention torturing yourself,” Abraham said. “Still, I think she would understand. Your intentions are honorable.”
Timothy nodded but said no more.
Abraham rubbed his son’s back. “Can you tell me what you have been thinking about the prophecy?”
Timothy shook his head. “Just make sure the night guard knows I’m allowed to stay in the garden tonight, and I’ll be fine.”
Abraham stopped and faced Timothy, his expression grave. “Will you ever come back to us?”
Timothy couldn’t bear to look at him. He just lowered his head and pressed on down the path. “No, Father. After I do what I am called to do, I could never come back.”
Abraham caught up and marched at Timothy’s side. “If you believe you have found the deceiver, then you need to tell me before you deliver judgment. As Prophet, I must first render a verdict, or there will be no justice in the land.”
Timothy dared not look up at him. “Does God ever call us to do an injustice?”
“Of course not. He is the supreme judge.”
“Then you have no concern.” Timothy halted at the edge of the garden where a tall muscular man stepped in front of him.
“A fair evening,” the man said. “What brings you to the garden after dark?”
Abraham waved his hand. “Matters of the heart, Cliffside. Please signal the other guards on the perimeter that my friend, Timothy, may stay here for the night.”
Cliffside bowed. “Your will is mine, Father.” He turned and whistled several short bursts, two long ones, and two more short ones. A high-pitched whistle answered from across the field, then two others, one from the left and one from the right. The guard extended his hand toward the rows of plants. “You are welcome here, my friend.”
Timothy stepped toward the garden, but turned at the last second. He opened his mouth to speak to his father, but nothing came out. Heat surged into his cheeks. As he stared at Abraham’s concerned eyes, Listener’s pitiful face flashed across his mind. She was just a little girl! How could he possibly do such a thing to a sweet little girl?
Grabbing hold of Abraham’s cloak, Timothy pulled him into an embrace. “Father!” he cried, shaking, “I … I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but I have to do it.” He pulled back, and clenched his hands together. His whole body quaked. “Please forgive me! It’s … it’s for my daughters, my precious daughters.”
Abraham nodded at the guard, who quickly retreated into the garden. He reached out and caressed the back of Timothy’s head. “My son, I know how you feel. When I left you and Thigocia on the ark and flew into a storm of demons, I could only watch you float away as I faded into darkness. I had to act on what Enoch told me, and though it sounded like a fool’s errand, my faith in God and in you was rewarded, and my obedience proved to save your life and the future of the dragon race.” He drew back a step and nodded toward the garden. “You do what you must do, and even if I don’t see you again until eternity’s dawn, I will walk in confidence that you have followed the light. I taught you wisdom from the time you were born, and I believe you will hold to it now.”
Timothy reached out again, but Abraham turned and strode away, his face set straight ahead as darkness enveloped him.
Drooping his shoulders, Timothy shuffled into the garden and sat at its edge. Without the benefit of nearby trees to break the wind, a cold breeze cut through his jacket and chilled his body. He shivered hard.
Hugging himself, both to warm his skin and to quiet his soul, he gazed at thin wisps of smoke rising from the village into Pegasus’s pale yellow glow. The huge moon, now about a quarter of the way up its nightly ascension, was followed in its path by a smaller moon peeking above the distant tree line.
His companion orbited slowly, its eyes staying focused on his head. It hadn’t spoken to his mind in hours, but he hadn’t said a word to it, either. With only such a short time to get accustomed to this orbiting egg, it was hard to know its ways. Was he supposed to ask it questions or just wait for it to give advice like it did before?
As the night progressed, the delicate sounds of the deserted garden drizzled into his ears—the breeze petting the praying leaves, an occasional whistle from one of the guards, and gentle laughter from somewhere in the village, a happy f
amily making ready for bed.
Timothy nodded. Bedtime. Soon Listener would come riding on Grackle. Soon he would complete this terrible task. Soon he would have the stain of innocent blood on his hands, an indelible mark that would scar his soul for all eternity.
He shook again, this time from sobs that heaved from deep within. Tears dripped into his lap, and, lifting his gaze toward the sky, he cried into the wind. “Father! Why have you brought me here? Why did you choose me? You need someone with a hard heart, someone who could plunge a dagger into the breast of a little girl without seeing his own daughters staring back at him as her life’s blood drained away. For the rest of my life I will have to hide what I did, lest I hear them call out, ‘Daddy, why did you do this? Why did you let an innocent lamb die in my place?’”
Heaving in a deep breath, he wept on. “If there is any way you can take this task away from me, Father, let it be so. You have already given your holy son for my daughters, why must anyone else make a sacrifice for them to see the light? Let someone else bear this burden. Let someone else give up their life force to show your grace. Not this precious lamb. Not this suffering little servant.”
His companion brushed by his ear. Who, Makaidos? Who has two life forces to sacrifice? Who but Listener has such a gift to offer?
Timothy covered his face with his hands and directed his thoughts toward the ovulum. Nobody has two. She is the chosen one.Then weep, dear Timothy. God will always listen. It glided in front of his face and hovered, its eyes flashing blue. But will you despair?Timothy shook his head. Never! I have seen too many miracles to despair. If I can watch from the prow of an ark while my father is murdered and not fly out to die with him in battle, I can carry out this sacrifice. I have to do my heavenly Father’s will no matter what.
The companion floated back to his shoulder and perched. Then, so be it.
As silence again descended on the garden, the moons shed light on the pregnant stalks. One of the plumper leaf pairs shifted, its walls bending and protruding in random spots. Timothy imagined a little elbow poking from near the middle, and a foot at the end of a stretching leg trying to find room as the precious life inside outgrew its temporary shell. Soon, maybe even tonight, it would leave that shell behind and fall into the arms of a loving mother or father where it would be safe from all harm.
Timothy searched the row for other mature pods and noticed Cliffside approaching, a torch in hand. Walking slowly, he paused at each of the bigger plants, obviously checking for imminent births. When he drew near, Timothy rose to his feet.
“This one is almost ready,” Timothy said, pointing.
Cliffside smiled. “I’ve been watching that one. The chosen parents wanted to stay here tonight, but this baby won’t come until tomorrow at the earliest. They probably can’t sleep anyway. This child will be their first.”
Watching the guard’s earnest face drew a surge of emotion from Timothy’s heart. “Thank you,” he said.
Cliffside’s brow arched. “For what?”
“For watching over the children. They need more guards like you where they came from.”
A puzzled look flashed across Cliffside’s face, but he just smiled again. “We have detected shadow people in the area,” he said, withdrawing a dagger from his belt and extending it toward Timothy. “If one of them gets past our patrol, this blade is sharp enough to slice them.”
Timothy grasped the hilt, silvery metal wrapped in a leather strap. Its eight-inch serrated blade gleamed in the moonlight. “Thank you,” he said, blinking nervously.
Cliffside nodded and continued his watchful tour in the next row. After a minute or so, only his bobbing torch was visible in the dimness.
Clutching the dagger tightly, Timothy sat next to the wiggling plant again and imagined the squirming little boy or girl inside. He repeated his own words in his mind. They need more guards like you where they came from. Biting his lip, he lowered his head and spoke in his mind to his companion. They certainly don’t need hypocrites like me, right?
The ovulum floated up to his ear and replied in a quiet tone. You are not a hypocrite until you act against what you know to be right. Your deeds define what you are, and a hypocritical act will soil your character beyond your ability to cleanse. You only have one life to give to God, so give it to him without stain or blemish.
“Easy for you to say,” Timothy grumbled out loud, letting the moonlight flash on the blade. “You don’t have any children you have to kill for.”I have only you to love and counsel. The companion perched again atop his shoulder. I have no children to kill or die for.
The plant wiggled violently. Setting the dagger on the ground, Timothy rose to his knees and caressed both leaves gently. “Shhhh … It’s going to be okay.” As he rubbed the baby’s back, it arched, and the little head shifted until it rested in Timothy’s palm. Tenderly massaging it with his thumb, he began to sing a lullaby he made up for Ashley years ago.
Your daddy slays the nightmare beasts
Who bring their sorrows to your mind.
Begone you monsters, take those fears
And never leave your ghosts behind.
Slowly, the baby settled down. As its steady heartbeat pulsed through the leaf and into his skin, Timothy wept. This child would be born tomorrow and cradled in loving arms, while another precious child would not awaken to another dawn. He snatched up the dagger again and gritted his teeth. There had to be another way! There just had to be!
A weak whistle spilled down from the sky. Timothy slid the dagger behind his belt and looked up. The silhouette of a great dragon passed in front of Pegasus and dove toward him. In a gust of wind and flapping wings, Grackle landed gracefully, Listener sitting in the control seat, dressed in purple sweat pants and a black leather jacket. She whistled again, and, while the dragon lowered its head to the ground, she waved Timothy aboard.
Timothy let go of the leaf and scrambled up the dragon’s stairway. When he settled himself in the already warm passenger’s seat, he reached around and hugged her from behind, his cheek nuzzling hers. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”
She nodded forcefully.
“Then let’s go.” Just as he was about to pull back, her two companions buzzed around his eyes. The weaker one brushed against the stronger one, and they seemed for a moment to be annoyed with each other.
Listener whistled. Grackle spread out his wings.
“Wait!” Timothy called, falling back in his seat. “Wait just a minute.”
Listener whistled again and massaged Grackle’s warm scales, breathing a lower whistle to keep him calm.
“I have an idea.” Breathing rapidly, Timothy ran his fingers through his hair. “It might work, but our timing has to be perfect.”
A shout pierced the night. “Who goes there?”
“It’s the guard!” Timothy clasped her shoulder. “Get us out of here!”
She pursed her lips and blew a shrill blast. Just as Cliffside came back into view, Grackle beat his wings and vaulted into the air. After gaining altitude in a tight circle over the garden, he shot away toward the land of the shadow people.
Timothy twisted and looked down. The torch streaked toward the village. Soon, Abraham would know. Brushing aside Listener’s hair, he leaned forward and kissed her on her scaly cheek, whispering, “You are the bravest of the brave, little lass. I love you like my own daughter.”
Listener nodded, rubbing their cheeks together. Warmth flooded Timothy’s heart. Words weren’t necessary … She loved him, too.
As they approached the bowl-shaped valley, the wind grew colder and colder, stiffening his fingers and numbing his skin. He could barely extend his frigid arms to point the way or force out spoken directions into the biting wind.
Listener didn’t seem to mind the cold. As she guided the dragon in the direction Timothy pointed, her little brow furrowed whenever a gust threw them slightly off course, but, other than an occasional shiver, she rem
ained stoic.
Timothy leaned to see around Grackle’s head, searching for the river’s exit point. Now in darkness, except for the crossing rays of the two moons, the interlaced shadows seemed to blend together, making everything below a crisscrossed web of dark shapes. Since the light tunnel had gone out, there would be no beacon to guide them.
Finally, a glimmer arose from below, a sparkling ribbon. “The river!” Timothy shouted. “Follow it to the right!”
Listener whistled two short bursts and tapped the dragon’s neck. With a sudden feeling of lost weight, Timothy retightened his belt and hung on as Grackle banked and dove at the same time.
Blistering cold wind flapped Timothy’s hair and cheeks, bringing shivers so violent, he thought his bones might break. Even Listener trembled, but she kept her wits about her as she slapped each side of the dragon’s neck in turn, taking him out of the dive.
Now below the tops of the surrounding ridge, the air tempered, allowing Timothy to speak without trembling. He pointed at the mouth of the river. “Over there. That clearing next to the clump of trees.”
Listener guided the dragon to the spot, and they landed gracefully next to the river. As Grackle shuddered his wings, Timothy unstrapped his belt and glanced all around, whispering. “The light from the tunnel always kept the shadow people away, but now that it’s dark, they could be lurking. Pegasus will likely keep them away from the river, but once we go into the forest, there’s no telling what might happen.”
He slid down to the ground and helped Listener dismount. Gazing up into the cold dark sky, he brushed his cheek against hers. “I will miss you,” he said. “Your willingness to die for others will never be forgotten.”
Listener’s brow furrowed, and she squeezed his hand.
“Shhh. We have to wait a moment.” Timothy stroked her hair. “Our timing has to be perfect. Without more than one witness, who will believe such a story?”
A faint roar rumbled in the sky from far away. Timothy looked up and scanned the darkness. “That sounded like Albatross.”
