Circle Series 4-in-1

by Ted Dekker

Thomas twisted once in the water and thrust his fist above (or was it below?) his head. He dove deep then looped back and struck for the surface. He had to find Rachelle! Justin had changed the water.

  The moment his hand hit the cold water above the warm, his lungs began to burn. He tried to breathe but found he couldn’t. Then he was through, out of the water.

  Three thoughts mushroomed in his mind while the water was still falling from his face. The first was that he was breaking through the surface at precisely the same time as Rachelle on his right and Johan on his left. Like three dolphins breaking the surface in a coordinated leap, heads arched back, water streaming off their hair, grinning as wide as the sky.

  The second thought was that he could feel the bottom of the lake under his feet. He was standing.

  The third was that he still couldn’t breathe.

  He came out of the water to his waist, doubled over, and wretched a quart of water from his lungs. The pain left with the water. He gasped once, found he could breathe easily, and turned slowly.

  To his right. Water and strings of saliva fell from Rachelle’s grinning mouth. She had just died as well.

  To his left. For a brief moment he didn’t recognize the man five feet to his left. This was Martyn the Scab, but his skin had changed. Flesh tone. Smooth. Pink like a baby’s skin. His eyes shone like emeralds. This was Johan as he once had been, without a trace of the disease. He too had breathed the water.

  They stood in the water, three drenched strangers facing a hundred thousand Horde, some dressed in the tunics of Forest People, some dressed in the hooded cloaks of the Desert Dwellers, all dressed in the white skin of disease.

  For a while no one spoke. Qurong stood with his army a hundred yards to their right, face shrouded by his hood. Ciphus stood fifty yards to their left, lips drawn. There, directly ahead, were Mikil and Jamous and Marie and Samuel, gaping with the rest.

  Thomas walked out of the lake, plowing water noisily with his thighs. In some ways he felt like he was looking at a whole new world. Not only was he a new person, drowned in magic, but the thousands he faced were different. The disease hung on them like dried dung. But when they understood what Elyon had done for them in this lake, they would flock en masse into the red waters. He would be run over, he thought wryly.

  The Horde warriors who’d been sent to investigate stood fifty paces off. They had their answer, and Thomas doubted they understood it.

  He glanced back to where he’d seen the Shataiki. Gone. No, not gone. They were still there, undoubtedly, but he could no longer see them.

  He was about to speak, to tell them what had happened, when a shrill voice shattered the silence. “It was them!” Ciphus cried. “They have deceived us and poisoned Elyon’s water.”

  Johan stepped up beside Thomas. “We will tolerate your lies no longer, old man! Are you blind? Do we look poisoned to you?”

  “Look at yourselves! The water has stripped you of your flesh!”

  “Stripped us?” Thomas asked, dumbfounded. He looked at the people. “It has stripped us of our disease. Can’t you see that?”

  “Impossible!” Ciphus said. “This is no longer Elyon’s lake. This is red water, poisoned by death.”

  It was what one of the Horde would say, Thomas thought. Ciphus had turned completely. He searched the bank for Marie and Samuel, found them, and saw that Rachelle was already running for them. She knew as well as he, if the disease had taken them all so quickly, they might not be so receptive.

  He faced the elder, who’d turned to the people. “The law states with no uncertainty that the body must remain in the water until morning, but you all saw with your own eyes. There is no body!”

  Again it was Johan who took up their defense. “No one crossed my line of guards to steal the body. You hardly searched. And this is Horde law that you’re quoting, not your own. Since when do you bow to Horde law?”

  “It is law!” the elder shouted. “And you were complicit in their plan to steal the body. Who would have suspected the two generals were working together to enslave the entire world in one twisted plot?” He pointed at the lake. “Look at what you’ve done!”

  Johan stepped forward and spoke directly to the people. “The lake isn’t poisoned; it has only been changed. Am I dead? Does the disease still cling to my flesh? Am I a Scab? No, I’m free of the disease, and it’s because I did what Justin told us to do. To follow him in his death by drowning in the lake and finding new life! This is the fulfillment of the boy’s prophecy. This is the blow against evil the boy told us about, and it has come when all other hope is lost.” He thrust his hand back toward the lake. “Enter the lake and find his life. Drown, all of you! Drown!”

  No one ran for the lake. They stared at him as if he’d lost his senses. The great Martyn who was now Johan no longer commanded the respect he had only minutes earlier.

  There was movement beside Qurong on their right. And on their left, Ciphus walked slowly toward them. “Do you hear him?”

  Rachelle had shepherded Marie and Samuel to the edge of the water and was whispering in their ears. They were shivering.

  “Martyn the general would complete his deception with Thomas by having us all drown!” Ciphus said. “Never!”

  “Qurong is coming,” Johan whispered urgently. “We don’t have much time.”

  The Horde leader was marching up the shore with several hundred warriors.

  Two men broke from the crowd of Forest People and ran down the shore—the two who had traveled with Justin through the Valley of Tuhan. Ronin and Arvyl.

  Their faces were stained with tears and their eyes round with fear. “We will follow him to our deaths if we must,” Ronin said quietly, looking deep into Thomas’s eyes. “What must we do?”

  “Swim deep and breathe the water. Let it take you. You’ll find life.”

  They glanced at each other.

  “Quickly! They’re coming.”

  The two men stepped in, hesitated, then rushed and dove. They disappeared.

  “Now his men, Justin’s men!” Ciphus said. “They have all conspired to bring our ruin!”

  Qurong was still marching. So then, it had come down to this. The Horde against a family. Surely his second would follow them!

  Thomas ran up the shore and grabbed the hands of Mikil and Jamous. “Follow me!”

  “Thomas . . .”

  “Shut up and follow me, Mikil!” He kept his voice low and hushed. “Do you believe me?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You killed Elyon. We all did. Now give your life back to him and ride with me!”

  Mikil and Jamous stared at each other.

  “I think he’s right,” Jamous said.

  “You think Justin was Elyon?” she demanded.

  “He spoke to me.”

  She stared at him with wide white eyes.

  “Dive deep and breathe the water; for Elyon’s sake, move! Have I ever lied to you? Never. Run!”

  It was enough for Mikil. They sprinted down the sandy bank with Thomas right behind. They dove in tandem and splashed just as Ronin and Arvyl broke the surface, flesh pink, mouths wide, retching water.

  Thomas grabbed Johan’s arm. “Horses, we’ll need horses from the auxiliary Guard stable,” he whispered. “They’ll be saddled and—”

  But Johan knew all of this and was already running up the bank. The diseased Forest People scrambled out of his way. He disappeared into a row of houses.

  “All of you who will follow Justin in his death and find new life, drown!” Thomas cried. “Drown now!”

  The Horde leader was marching faster.

  Ciphus remained silent. He too saw Qurong. He too saw the Horde army that had them surrounded, many thousands, mounted on horses, sickles ready. They were under a new order, all of them.

  “I beg you! Remember him! This is the day of your deliverance!” Thomas shouted. Behind him the water splashed. Mikil and Jamous had risen.

  His frustration boiled to the surfa
ce. “What’s wrong with you? Are you blind? It’s life, you fools! Drown!”

  Mikil laughed.

  Two children ran down the shore. Lucy and Billy, the two from the Valley of Tuhan. They went in with Marie and Samuel. On their heels several grown men and women, maybe half a dozen, one from here, one from there. They splashed into the water and sank below the surface. One sputtered to the surface and clamored out of the lake. His skin hadn’t changed. Two more broke for the lake.

  “Enough!” Qurong stood with his fists on his hips, legs spread. “Enter the lake and consider yourself an enemy that we will hunt down and destroy.”

  “You are Tanis!” Thomas said. “You drank Teeleh’s water and brought us the disease. Now you’ll wage war on Elyon’s children? Justin has brought us peace.”

  “I have brought you peace!” His voice seemed too loud for a man. It hit Thomas then—this was Teeleh speaking through his firstborn. He was playing the spoiled child who wanted to be as great as Elyon. It had always been Teeleh’s way; now, having killed Justin, he would wage war on this unexpected remnant. He would kill the life that Justin had made possible in his death.

  “We are one!” Qurong cried with arms spread. “I am peace!”

  “You are at peace with Teeleh, not Elyon. Not Justin.”

  “Blasphemy!” Ciphus cried. “You are banished. Any man or woman or child who bathes in this lake will be banished!”

  Qurong threw back his hood to expose long knotted dreadlocks over white flaking skin. “Not banished,” he roared. “Killed!”

  Behind Thomas, the water splashed as others came out of the lake. Oblivious to the exchange, several of the children giggled. Rachelle hurried them from the water with hushed tones.

  Thomas scanned the beach. There was only one way clear of the Horde warriors, and that was past Ciphus. Even then, Qurong would give chase.

  Where are you, Johan?

  A lone man broke from the crowd, ran straight down the shore, and dove in defiance of Qurong’s command. William? If Thomas wasn’t mistaken, his lieutenant, William, had just joined them.

  Where was Johan? How long did it take to open a gate for a few horses? He had to stall Qurong. “If you are with Elyon, then would you condemn women and children to death because they don’t have your disease?”

  “It is you who have the disease,” Qurong said. “You are albinos with poisoned flesh and sickened minds.” Spittle flew from his mouth. His eyes were white-hot with anger. Why so furious as this for a few naked prey? “Your disease will divide us and threaten my kingdom, and for that you will drown!”

  “We just have drowned!” Mikil said. She burst into laughter. “You want to drown us again?”

  Thomas held out his hand to quiet her. “Get them ready,” he said quietly. “We ride through the forest, north.”

  “Horses?”

  “Johan.”

  She understood.

  “We’ll see if you survive my drowning,” Qurong said. “Take them!”

  His guard broke around him and marched forward.

  “Wait!” Thomas shouted. “I have something to exchange!” He reached into his tunic, slipped the leather book from where he’d carried it, and lifted it high.

  “A Book of History.”

  Qurong lifted his hand, and his soldiers stopped. He took a step forward. In his own twisted mind this was a sacred book, but what would he do to own it again? It was, after all, just an artifact.

  “You have said that no one is permitted to enter the lake,” Thomas said. “If I throw this book in these poisoned waters, will you break your own law and enter to find it?”

  “Lay it down.”

  Johan emerged from the village behind the people, leading a dozen horses. He took one look at the situation and kicked his mount.

  Thomas spoke loudly to cover his approach.

  “I will lay this book down if you will give me one minute to plead my case in front of the entire Council, as is the custom of our people in a case of this . . .”

  The sound of Johan and his horses galloping down the bank was enough to turn every head. The Scabs had just made sense of his sudden appearance and were moving to intercept when their old commander thundered past Qurong.

  Thomas shoved the blank Book of History into his tunic, then spun and grabbed the closest child. “Get them on the horses, hurry!”

  Rachelle lifted Marie into a saddle behind William. She grabbed Samuel by the arm, jerked him from his feet, and swung him up with William’s help. Then she turned for another child.

  “Stop them!” Qurong shouted.

  “Go, Rachelle! I’ll get the others. Ride!”

  But she ran for a fourth child.

  They were no longer inhibited by the painful disease that slowed the Scabs. Before the first warrior reached them, they’d swung into saddles and were galloping toward the Council, which stood frozen.

  All but Thomas and Rachelle, who’d helped the children.

  “Mount! Hurry!” Rachelle wasn’t going to make it! Thomas ran his horse at the closest warrior, who pulled up and took a meager swipe at him. He ducked the sickle easily enough. Now his wife had mounted.

  “Ride! Ride!”

  Out of nowhere a single arrow cut through the air and plowed into his mount’s neck. The animal reared in pain and Thomas clung to the saddle.

  “Thomas!” Rachelle screamed. She knew as well as he that this wound would finish the horse. And the Scabs were now rushing in. A blade struck the rear quarter of his horse.

  Rachelle spun her own mount around. “Jump!” She raced up to him, released the reins, and shifted back off the saddle, holding on to the pommel with one hand.

  It was a move the Guard knew well; horses often fell in battle. They learned early that at any speed, jumping from one horse to another was nearly impossible unless the rider could hold himself fast in the stirrups and catch the jumper between him and the horse’s neck.

  Thomas leaped, slammed into her horse’s neck, and crashed into the saddle. He bent low and grabbed the reins. His wife hugged him around the waist and held tight.

  But now they were going the wrong way. He reined the horse around and galloped to catch the others. It had all happened in a few seconds. Johan had just cleared the Council, but Justin’s followers were far from safety.

  The hundred Scabs above the beach were spurring their horses to intercept.

  “Jamous, William, on your right!” Thomas cried. He veered straight for the Horde. “Hold on!” Rachelle tightened her grip around his belly.

  Jamous and William broke from the others and headed for the army. Johan glanced back, took quick stock, and led the others away from the danger at a full sprint.

  Thomas leaned forward and screamed as he would in pitched battle. Every Scab soldier there had undoubtedly seen this mighty warrior felling their comrades, and the sight of him and two of his lieutenants racing directly for them caused them to pull on their reins.

  The delay was just enough to give Johan the time he needed to lead the others into the trees.

  “Break!” Thomas, Jamous, and William veered to the left on the command and raced for the trees after Johan.

  It was then, not two horse lengths from the trees, that a soft thump punctuated the pounding hoofs.

  Rachelle groaned behind him.

  Another thump.

  An arrow smacked into a tree on his right.

  Rachelle’s grip on his midsection loosened.

  “Rachelle?”

  She grunted, and there was the unmistakable sound of pain in that grunt.

  “Rachelle? Talk to me!”

  In answer, a dozen arrows clipped through the branches. And then they were into the forest. His wife had been shot! He had to stop.

  “Rachelle!”

  The Horde was in heavy pursuit—he couldn’t stop.

  “Answer me!” he screamed. “Rachelle!”

  Nothing. Her hands were slipping, and he grabbed them with his left hand. “William!”r />
  His lieutenant glanced back. “Ride, Thomas! Ride!”

  “Rachelle’s been shot!” he cried.

  William immediately pulled to the side and eased up. Thomas galloped up to him, still at full speed. They dodged several trees and broke into a meadow. William studied the limp body behind Thomas. Rachelle’s limp body.

  What Thomas saw in his lieutenant’s green eyes drove a stake of raw dread through his heart.

  Thomas veered off the path just long enough to check Rachelle’s pulse. She was alive. But unconscious. Three arrows protruded from her back. He started to sob, still seated on the saddle with the sound of the Horde less than a hundred meters behind. William strapped her wrists together around Thomas’s belly, and they rode hard to catch the others.

  Elyon, I beg you heal her, he prayed. I beg you save my wife.

  The others didn’t know. Samuel and Marie rode ahead with Mikil and Jamous, who’d taken Marie to lighten Mikil’s load. Every minute, Thomas checked Rachelle’s wrist for a pulse. Alive, still alive.

  William rode behind, silent. Even if they could stop, there was nothing that could be done for Rachelle. She needed rest. She needed to stop riding altogether, but with this pursuit none of that was an option.

  You saved me, Justin. You will save my wife.

  They had died and come back to life in the lake. Why? So that Rachelle could be killed by the Horde? It made no sense, which could only mean she wasn’t going to die. He needed her! The children needed her. The tribe needed her. She was the sweetest person, the wisest, the loveliest, the most loving of them all!

  She would not be dying.

  William pulled up beside him after twenty minutes. “There are about two hundred in pursuit,” he said. “Johan and I will lead them south and join you at the apple grove to the north.”

  Thomas nodded.

  His lieutenant raced ahead and spoke briefly to Johan, who looked back in alarm. He veered to the right and vanished into the trees with William. They would circle back, engage the Horde, and then draw them south according to classic Guard methods.

  Thomas rode hard for as long as he dared. Surely William and Johan had engaged the Horde by now. He felt his wife’s pulse for the hundredth time. With the horse bouncing under them, the task was now nearly impossible. Maybe her pulse had grown too weak for him to feel without stopping.