Ammon looked at him, dumbfounded, as Luke stalked away.
* * *
Luke walked until darkness had settled over the great city, finding a lonely trail where he could be by himself. He wanted to get away, but he didn’t know where. He wanted to think, but his mind was a cloud.
He walked for many hours, thinking, stewing, trying to sort it out. A torturous battle took place somewhere between his heart and his head, between the things he knew and the things that he felt.
He knew it was wrong. He had known that from the start–it was wrong and destructive. Yet, like a hot dripping acid he couldn’t seem to turn off, the panic ate at him, consuming his soul until his fear of the future had complete control of him, his lack of faith filling him completely with indecision and dread.
All he wanted was for things to go back to how they had been before. Yet, when he looked at the future, only one thing was clear: they weren’t strong enough, very few of them were. It was too dangerous, too risky. There had to be a better way.
As he walked through the darkness, not knowing where he could go, the blackness inside him seemed to only grow worse, the isolation more bitter, the anger more sharp.
He only wanted to protect them. Why were they such fools? They were his family! Must everything be so hard?
Oh, how he hated this feeling! He didn’t want to feel this way anymore.
Chapter Fourteen
Lucifer sent for Balaam, sending word through a runner for him to report immediately. It took Balaam some time to get past the sentries and guards who had been placed to protect the master’s new home, an imposing fortress on the side of the hill. Since the decision of the council, the security around the palace had become incredibly tight, for the master had made the jump from suspicion into the realm of paranoia and fear. Once past the sentries, Balaam was escorted into the Grand Hall, a magnificent corridor that took his breath away, an ostentatious and stunning display of power and greed. Bricks of gold and precious stones had been imbedded in the floor and glittering chandeliers hung eighty feet over his head. Exquisite crown moldings accented the exposed ceiling beams. The walls of the mighty corridor were beautifully painted with murals depicting Lucifer in his glory: a Son of the Morning, a hero in battle, and finally the coming of the great King. Concourses of angels were depicted singing praises to their lord, their arms raised in glory and worship to him. Balaam studied the mural as he walked slowly by, reading the words the angels would sing:
Glory to him who will save us
From Jehovah’s bitter fall.
He will defend our salvation
Let the glory be his!
He will fight for our happiness
He will fight for our ease–
Why would they cheat him?
He only claims what is fair.
We love him
We praise him
Let the glory be his!
Passing the great mural, Balaam came to an enormous door, a solid piece of wood that was at least fifty feet high. As he drew near, it opened for him and he felt a cold breeze on his face. Lucifer was waiting on a magnificent throne, a huge and garish symbol of his ego and pride. The enormous arms were golden tiger paws, the four legs coiled snakes, the backrest jutting to an apex of diamonds that glittered like stars.
The servant, bent and terrified, approached the great master. He whimpered to please him, almost licking his hand. His eyes, red-rimmed and teary, flickered with a sullen yellow glow, the brighter light having burned out a long time before. “Master!” he whimpered. His great voice, once so compelling, once able to capture a listener with its rolling power, was hardly more than a sniffle, a hoarse and crackling sound.
Balaam had not talked with Lucifer for a very long time, but he had watched him from a distance. He had seen what he had become, and there was no doubt in his mind what Lucifer was capable of now. So Balaam approached him in fear. Bowing at his feet, he fell to his knees, unable to look upon his master’s face. “Master,” he repeated in a bootlicking tone.
Lucifer watched him a moment, then gave a sharp command. “Stand and look at me.”
Balaam forced himself up and lifted his eyes. Looking upon Satan’s face, he gasped and took a step back. The transition was complete now, and he shuddered inside. The once mighty leader, the Son of the Morning, was now but a shell of who he used to be. Gaunt and tired, he was now bent with anger and broken with rage. But though he now looked dark and evil, Balaam could also see that he was even more powerful, for there was a mighty force about him, an authority and energy that could not be denied. His priestcraft grew stronger with every soul he destroyed.
Balaam stepped back and Lucifer smiled. “So, Balaam,” he said sarcastically. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“I’m sorry, great master. It’s just that you look so . . . tired, sir. I hope you are well.”
The Destroyer smiled bitterly, then drew himself together and lifted his voice. He stood up from the throne and pulled his shoulders square. His face shone with a light that seemed to emit from his eyes, casting a shadow over his cheeks and his nose. His skin grew more tight, his hair dark and full. He drew large and strong, his neck taunt, his chest tight. Power and beauty seemed to shimmer from his face, like a mirage in the distance on a hot, sultry day. Even his throne seemed to brighten, casting a golden light through the room. “I can be beautiful when I want to!” he boomed in a powerful voice. “I can still be an angel, a beautiful angel of light. I can deceive men when I need to, so don’t you worry for me.”
Balaam lowered his head and muttered an unintelligible reply. The master’s light faded and he relaxed once again, seeming to draw into himself, as if shrinking with age. He pointed toward his servant. “Balaam,” he said, “time precludes us from the pleasantries of rehashing old times. We are fully focused on the battle, and there is no time for that now.”
“Yes, Master Mahan,” Balaam replied.
“I have sent for you, Balaam, because of the promise you made. You made a vow to me, Balaam, and I haven’t forgotten. And now comes the work that I need you to do.”
Lucifer brought his hands together, lifting them over his head, then moved them in a circle, sweeping an arch through the air. “Look, Balaam,” he commanded. “Look now and see the mission I have prepared for you.”
Balaam kept his eyes on his master. The vision was opened, and he watched carefully.
“He is alone now,” Lucifer said. “You can see his discouragement–look, there in his eyes. He hasn’t spoken to Ammon or Elizabeth for more than three days. He is avoiding them, always seeking time by himself. He spends most of his time walking through the trails that line the foothills of their city. He thinks he is hurting, but it is really his pride. He isn’t thinking of others; he thinks only of himself–his hurt, his anger, his sadness and confusion. He is so focused on his own pain that it’s all he thinks about now. He assumes he is the only one to ever experience such disappointment or grief, and so it festers inside him, like a poison that eats at his heart. There, now you see, he is walking alone. I want you to go to him, Balaam, and convince him to come to me. Persuade him to listen. That’s all I need; for if he entertains my ideas, I can get him, I know.”
“Yes, Master Mahan. I serve at your will.”
“Yes, of course you do, Balaam. Of course you do, friend. Now do this thing, Balaam, and you will get your reward. I will give you what I promised. You have my sacred word.” Satan lied so easily, even he had trouble keeping track of the truth. He couldn’t remember what he promised, but it made no difference to him. He would say what he needed to say to get the result he desired. “When I rule this world,” he continued, “I will need men like you. And you will rise in great power if you do what I say. So do this for me, and you will have those things you desire.”
* * *
Luke walked alone on the trail, his head down, his eyes focused on his feet, his heart weary with discouragement and anger and fear. Evening was coming on and, in the
west, dark clouds grew, promising rain sometime in the next few hours.
As Luke walked, he heard a strange voice and lifted his head with a start. Balaam, the great teacher, the most celebrated and best-loved chancellor at the university, approached from a trail that ran through the trees to his right. “My young Luke!” he exclaimed as he stepped onto the road. “Luke, my dear Luke, how are you doing, boy?”
“Master Balaam,” Luke answered quickly, hiding the surprise in his voice. He looked around carefully. “What are you doing here?”
Balaam folded his brilliantly colored robe around his waist, flipping it coolly with a twist of his hand. “I came to talk to you, dear Luke. I came to offer assurance . . . ”
Luke cocked his head suspiciously. “I don’t need your sympathy,” he replied angrily.
“Of course you don’t, Luke. Believe me, I know that better than you could ever know. You see, Luke, in many ways you and I are the same. We’re not the kind of men who need sympathy or understanding. You don’t need to be treated with kid gloves, not like Ammon always wants to do. And that’s not what I’m here for. I came to talk, man-to-man, brother-to-brother. And all I ask is that you treat me with the same respect with which I intend to treat you.”
Luke watched him a moment, then frowned, turned away, and started walking again. Balaam hesitated as Luke walked a few paces ahead. When he stopped and looked back, Balaam leaped to his side.
And with that, he knew that he had him. The master was right. He was weak and vulnerable.
* * *
Farther down the narrow road, behind a low-hanging bow of an ancient oak tree, Lucifer waited and watched. He turned his head to listen, anxious to hear every word. If Balaam were to fail, he was prepared to step in, though he greatly hoped that didn’t happen, for it would be so much better if Luke chose to come by himself, if he chose to listen to Balaam without direct persuasion from Lucifer. Yet this was important, and he was ready to intervene, for he had learned from experience that sometimes God’s children needed his personal touch–those special words, those exquisite lies that only he told so well.
As the two men approached, Lucifer pushed back, burying himself in the shadows of the ancient oak tree. He watched and listened from the shadows as the two men came to a stop.
“That is an exceptional robe you are wearing, Master Balaam,” Luke said.
Balaam glanced down, then lifted his arms with great pride. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it. I have many like it. You see, we believe it is important to present yourself well. It is important to show others when you have attained a certain stature in life.”
Luke admired the robe. “And you are happy now?” he asked with a tilt of his head.
“Oh yes, Luke, very happy. There is so much you don’t know, so much you have never experienced. If I could only open your eyes to the many good things in life, to the many things we have been denied. The Father has many secrets, Luke, things he refuses to tell us, pleasures and joys he won’t tell us about. He has great knowledge and powers that he keeps to himself. Did you know, for example, that there are fruits you have never experienced, luscious, lovely fruits you have never tasted before? And there are wonders you can’t imagine regarding our spirits and minds, feelings and knowledge you have not considered before.
“And there is so much fun and excitement, I just wish I could explain. Surely there is more to life than work, you know. You have felt that before; I can see it in your eye. Work and drudgery. Work and school. Work and . . . ” Balaam suddenly paused. “Well, you know what I mean, Luke. At least I suspect you do.”
Luke didn’t answer, and Balaam shook his head sadly. “You know, when I look back on it, I’m ashamed for myself. I used to be so hard on my pupils, used to push them so hard. Yet, in my single-minded desire to provide them more knowledge, there were so many pleasures I denied them. But those days are over. I’m not like that anymore, for I have discovered the meaning of real pleasure now.”
Luke stared down the road, apparently uninterested. He pressed his lips together and breathed a deep sigh. In the shadows to his left, Lucifer cursed to himself. Balaam was on the wrong track. He needed to try something else.
Balaam shifted uncomfortably as silence hung in the air.
“I want to talk to Samuel,” Luke said in a defiant tone. “You could take me to him. But I suspect that you won’t.”
“Of course you want to see him. And he wants to see you as well.”
“Will you let me see him?” Luke demanded.
“How could I stop you? You are free to do what you choose.”
“But you wouldn’t let Ammon see him.”
“Sam didn’t want to see him, and truthfully, Ammon didn’t try very hard. He asked once or twice, but that was about all. I suspect he was more interested in putting on a show, being able to say he had tried, than in actually getting through.”
“But you think he will see me?”
“Of course he will, Luke. He misses you so!”
“When? Where? I want to see him right now!”
Balaam shrugged casually. “In time, Luke, in time. He is very busy right now.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“Of course you don’t, Luke. As I said, he is busy. But you will get to see him. I promise you will.”
Balaam turned away from Luke and started walking again. Luke hesitated a few seconds, then rushed to catch up. “You know,” Balaam said as Luke moved to his side, “your oldest brother and I seem to think the same way. All Sam wanted was the freedom to act for himself, the freedom to have a little fun and not be so tied down. He feels we shouldn’t be forced to follow the same path, that we shouldn’t have to act the same, dress the same, even talk and think the same way. He feels a great need for freedom, a need to not be tied to one plan.
“And think about that, Luke. Under our plan, no one will ever call you lazy or rebellious or evil. No one will ever pass judgment on the way you look, dress, or feel. And there won’t be this constant divisiveness, this constant conflict and strife. I’m so tired of it, Luke, and I’m sure you are too. I mean, haven’t you noticed how intolerant those who follow Jehovah have become? They refuse to include us, but instead threaten to cast us out, and all because we don’t agree with everything they say. They have become a group of bigots and extremists; intolerant and close-minded fools, unwilling to even consider that we might have a point. And I’m so tired of them trying to force their values on us, shove their religion down our throats, the way they chip away every day at our freedom of choice. I say live and let live. Is that too much to ask?”
Luke was slow to answer. “I’m so tired of the contention. I don’t want to talk anymore. All I want to do is see Samuel,” he replied as they walked.
“And I will take you to him. But not for a while. We have other things to talk about, other things we have to do first.”
Luke thought a long moment, his face weary and tight. “I just don’t know anymore,” he finally mumbled to himself.
“Then come and listen,” Balaam cried. “That is all I ask. Just come and listen to his plan. Is there any danger in that? You don’t have to decide. What are you hiding from? Lucifer isn’t such a bad man; you have seen that yourself. He’s good and caring, and he is so strong and smart. I’m only asking that you listen long enough to see what he can offer you.”
“I don’t know . . . I just don’t know. I need to talk to Ammon, I guess.”
Balaam’s heart jumped. That was the last thing in the world he wanted Luke to do. “No, Luke!” he replied, barely hiding the panic in his voice. “You already know what Ammon will say. I mean, could anyone be any more predictable? And aren’t you a man? Aren’t you capable of making a decision yourself? I think you are. Now come on; let’s go.”
“But I can’t just leave them. That’s what Sam did, and you know how much that hurt everybody. I owe it to them to at least try to explain.”
Balaam thought, then reached into his robe and pulled out a t
ightly folded piece of brown paper. “I agree with you, Luke, but there is a better way. Let’s write a note. I can help you explain. It will be easier for both you and them if we do it this way. Now come–it is late, and we’ve a long way to go.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was very dark out and very late at night when Balaam and Luke were escorted down the Great Hall and through the high wooden door. Outside the air was heavy, smothering, a blanket of heat kept down by the smoke and haze in the sky. Inside the Great Hall it felt the same way: stale and lifeless, with a tinge of dry smoke in the air.
The Great Hall was dimly lit, and once again, the door opened as they approached. Entering the inner chamber, they found Lucifer waiting, his smile so wide it was clearly contrived. He had cloaked himself in an exquisite white robe with long, flowing tails and full, sweeping sleeves. Atop his dark hair, he wore a glass crown, its silver spires sitting like spikes on his head. He looked simply magnificent, surrounded by his power and wealth, and Luke couldn’t help but bow as he approached the great master, for his surroundings were so overwhelming he felt entirely compelled.
Lucifer loosened his smile and extended his hand. “Luke, I’m so glad you came. I think so much of your brother. It’s good to finally meet you.”
Luke didn’t answer as his throat choked a bit. Lucifer watched him a moment, studying him carefully. He looked deep in Luke’s eyes, seeing the tenderness there, then made a quick decision, knowing what he had to do.
“Luke,” he said simply. “I’m a busy man, and I’m sure you are too. So let me cut to the heart of the matter, if you will.
“First, I want you to know that I have watched and observed you for a very long time. And I know how you think. I know how you feel. I know what motivates you–and it isn’t power or greed. You are a good person, Luke, with a soft spot in your heart.”
Luke stood without moving as the Deceiver walked to his side and put his arms around him, drawing the younger man close. “This is the way I see it,” Lucifer continued. “You love your brothers and sister. And you are happy here. Maybe we aren’t like the Father, but how important is that, really? We have each other and this world–what a wonderful place! So why does it have to change, you wonder. Why do we have to go through all this suffering now? And it bothers you, Luke, that it will only get worse. Am I right there, young man? Is that about how you feel?”
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