by Bryan Davis
Matt slid an arm through the portal, his hand open. “We need more leaves. The portal’s not big enough to get a whole person through.”
Lauren scooped up a handful and poured them into Matt’s palm. “I have more besides these.”
“Listener will be back for them.” The moment Matt gave Listener half of his handful, she dashed away. Matt turned to leave.
“Wait!” Lauren scrambled to her backpack, pulled out three cereal bars, and hustled back to the portal. “Here.” She pushed them through a hole and stuffed them into his pocket. “I hope they help.”
“They will. Thanks. I’d give you a hug, but …” He nodded at his filled hands.
“I know.” She reached through and caressed his cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
Mom glided across the garden, her wings fluttering, and landed next to Matt. As soon as she stretched a mask over his mouth and nose, he winked at her, then at Lauren, and ran toward one of the litters.
“Good-bye,” Lauren whispered as she offered a weak wave.
“I also gave a mask to Listener.” Mom handed Lauren the final two. “For whoever needs them the most.”
“Thank you.” Lauren touched her mother’s hand. She looked pale and dizzy. The fumes were getting to her. “Are you going now?”
She nodded weakly. “Matt insisted that I go with him right away. You know how he is about protecting the ladies he loves.”
“I know.” Lauren blew her a kiss. “I love you, and tell Matt I love him. I forgot to tell him.”
“I will. And I love you, too.” She turned and staggered away into the smoke, nearly falling at times before catching herself with her wings.
Lauren let her shoulders sag. Her heart ached. Mom looked so frail, but Matt would watch out for her. He practically oozed heroism. After cutting that rope to save her life, he deserved more than a verbal thanks and a touch on the cheek. If only they could take time to talk, just relax and be friends, but that couldn’t be, not yet.
New flames shot up beyond the field, closer than ever. The lava would be there in moments, and the fumes would soon be too dense for survival. A breeze blew the cloud over the garden. Coughs and the sounds of retching flew everywhere. They could never outrun the poisonous fumes. The portal was their only hope.
Listener ran to the portal. Kneeling low, she held her shirt’s hem on the ground, pushed her hand into the museum room, and began sweeping the remaining leaves into her makeshift basket. “I hope there is enough space in there for everyone.”
Tamara drew closer. “Listener?”
She looked up. “Mother?”
“My daughter!” Tamara slid to her knees, thrust her arms through the portal, and hugged Listener. “I am … so glad … to see you.”
Listener ran a hand along Tamara’s face, then through her hair. “Oh, Mother! The disease has devastated you!”
Tamara clasped her hand and kissed it. “I explain later.”
“Of course, Mother. I’m sorry, but I really have to go.” Listener kissed Tamara’s cheek, rose to her feet, and ran through the haze until she faded from sight.
As more smoke filtered into the room, Sir Barlow grabbed a book and began fanning the cloud back. A bucket filled with dirt and a green plant slid through the portal. A second one followed, then a third.
Tamara pulled the buckets farther in to make room. When all six were safe, a man called out, “Children first! Then their mothers, then all other females.”
As coughing blended with the sounds of crackling fire, a breeze stirred the smoke and blew much of it away. The man wearing one of the masks helped a little girl crawl through the portal. “It is appropriate,” he said, “that the Father of Lights first provides a small way of escape to remind us of our priorities.”
Lauren took the girl’s hand and helped her rise. Soot smudged her cheeks and arms, and her tunic was little more than shredded leather, but she seemed healthy. Her companion floated in front of her, blinking a dim red light, as if sniffing out the refuge. The girl turned slowly, her eyes wide. “Where are we?”
“A safe place. I’ll explain more later.” Lauren put one of the masks on her, then helped a little boy enter, giving him the final mask. Smoke obscured the line of escapees, but the chatter outside and blinking companions visible through the haze indicated that many more waited for entry.
Lauren mentally urged the portal to open further. New holes needed to appear, but that would bring in more fumes. “Tamara, help everyone find a book to fan the fumes away. If anyone is still sick or injured, get a Second Eden leaf and apply it. You know what to do.”
The crackling fire grew louder. Terrified cries from the midst of the cloud heightened as well as coughs and sounds of vomiting.
“The lava is coming!” someone shouted.
“Run!” another called.
“Valiant!” Listener’s voice rose above the others. “We have three more children, then the women.”
The man who had carried the buckets looked at Lauren. “Will we have room? The men will not leave for the enclave until they know their loved ones will be safe.”
“We have room,” Lauren replied. “Are you Valiant?”
“I am.”
Lauren helped another child through the portal. “We’ll be fine. We just have to hurry.”
“Listener!” Valiant called. “Tell the men all is well and to go to the enclave. I need you to go with them to check on our weapons. I will meet you there later.” He pointed at another section of the portal. “This hole is big enough. Two lines now!”
Lauren, Tamara, and Sir Barlow helped the final children into the room. Although smoke poured in, those already inside waved books, blocking the flow and sending most of it back out. Women began walking in, lowering their heads to make it through. Everyone crowded around the tree, though not close enough to ignite their clothes. With companions twinkling in the midst of shifting bodies, the scene looked like a mass of floating humanity wearing blinking life preservers.
“Hold your breath as long as you can!” Lauren called, coughing. “And pass the two masks around to those who are sick and have them take turns breathing!”
A breeze again blew the smoke away from the Second Eden side of the portal. A knee-high wall of lava appeared only a stone’s throw away. It rolled toward them slowly, devouring everything in its path. Trees and grass erupted in flames. Sizzles and pops filled the air. Nothing could stop it. Death for everyone would arrive in seconds.
Lauren’s back tingled. They could battle the smoke for a while longer, but waving books wouldn’t keep the lava out. “We have to start closing the portal!”
“Indeed,” Barlow said. “The entire tree?”
“Just the part making the Second Eden portal. We need to leave the other portals visible.” Lauren helped a woman with a bleeding arm limp through the opening. “And start at the sides. People are still coming in.”
As more women filed into the room, Sir Barlow pushed through the crowd and stood in front of the tree. With a clap, he smothered a cluster of leaves. As he rubbed his gloved hands together, smoke rose from between them. His neck reddened. He rubbed more briskly. “Perhaps since the leaves were used for healing,” he said through clenched teeth, “the flames are now more durable.”
“Keep trying!” Lauren’s entire back crawled with tingles. “We have to close the portal!”
“I realize that, Miss.” His neck muscles tensed. More smoke rose. Finally, his gloves caught on fire. He shook them to the floor and stamped them out. The leaves’ flames withered for a moment before springing back to life. Glaring at the tree, he muttered, “I think we will need another plan.”
Lauren pointed at Apollo, still sitting near the left edge of the Second Eden portal. “We have Apollo, but it opens portals. I don’t know how to close one with it.”
“Then we’d better think fast, Miss. In mere moments, this place will transform from a safe haven to a death trap.�
�
Chapter 13
INTO THE DRAGON’S LAIR
Lauren grabbed Barlow’s gloves. “I’ll try it.”
“Very well, Miss, but I assure you—”
“If you have another idea, let’s hear it.” She cringed. That came out harsher than intended, but apologies could come later.
As she jerked a glove over her hand, a deep voice echoed in the museum room. “Have the souls of Second Eden so soon lost their lesson?”
She spun toward the source. Abaddon had drawn near to his portal and looked straight at her over the heads of the escapees, his blue eyes again flashing.
Letting the gloves drop, she squeezed through the crowd and faced him. “What lesson?”
“When a damsel dissimulated, they desired a dragon. When a flower faltered, they found a physician. When the casualties of conflict climbed, they called for a king.” The dragon’s tongue flicked out and in. “Remember this riddle. Call to me, and I will answer you. The proverb is your path.”
Lauren balled her fists. “I don’t have time for riddles. Just tell me what I have to do!”
“Ah! Wouldn’t we all wish for wisdom without work?” He raised the green egg in his clawed hand. “Yet I will not acquiesce to answering.”
“But children are going to die soon!”
“A song sends salvation. The plants, the proverb, and a prayer produce the promise.” Abaddon turned his back and placed the green egg on one of the table mounts. “A wise woman will calculate whom to call.”
“Whom to call? The plants?” Lauren turned. Everyone continued fanning the fumes, all coughing as they waved the books. Two children lay on the floor, apparently having succumbed to the poison. Tamara and another woman knelt with them, forcing leaves into their mouths. The lava drew closer. One way or another, the portal would soon be a gateway for a killing wave of fire.
She weaved around the dirty bodies, picking up one of the gloves along the way, and found the plants still sitting in their buckets near the Second Eden portal. Covering her mouth with the glove, she pondered Abaddon’s words. Call to me, and I will answer you. Maybe she could call for someone who could extinguish the flames, someone with power over fire. But who? He held the green ovulum, but why would it be in Abaddon’s Lair? Had it been destroyed?
“Zohar?” Lauren whispered. Could he have died? If so, maybe she could call him from Abaddon’s Lair, but what did Abaddon mean about a song sending salvation?
Lauren glanced around. In the distance, a higher wave of lava drew closer, running faster and overlapping the first. Soon it would overwhelm them. The crisis seemed all too familiar. Not long ago, in order to create a protective shield, she had to remember a melody from a dream, a melody that could be recalled only when showing mercy. And now, she needed a song she had never heard at all.
Lauren waved a hand and shouted through the glove, “Those who are healthy, keep fanning! Barlow! Move the sick ones to the back! I have to try something, and I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Right away, Miss!” Barlow and Tamara herded everyone away from the portal, about twelve children and twenty-five women. Tamara held a toddler in each arm and shooed a few more back with halting pleas.
Heat shot through Lauren’s cheeks. Her delay in closing the portal was threatening the lives of the little ones, and it was all her fault for leading them into danger.
She crouched in front of the six plants. New tingles ran along her back, the worst ever. Every sound heightened—the rumbling mountain, crying children, burning debris, and … a melody?
Lauren looked at the Second Eden sky through the portal. A humming tune passed through the air, riding on the breeze just as surely as did the smoke, someone humming. No. Two people. It sounded like …
“Joran and Selah?” Lauren looked back. With the women and children now pressed to the sides of the museum room and behind the tree, radiance from the dozens of flames flickered over the birthing plants, creating a sparkling aura. As the melody from above continued, words blended in, taking on Joran’s distinctive tenor and Selah’s lovely alto.
Still pressing the glove over her mouth, Lauren took a deep breath and held it. Then, after lowering the glove, she looked at the plants and sang with Joran and Selah.
Elijah’s fury threatens death
With choking fumes and lava flow,
While children cry for help above,
I call for help from worlds below.
I call for Zohar, hair of white
And eyes of blue to join our throng;
Arise and quench the endless flames
With words from Heaven’s holy song.
The moment she finished, she set the glove over her mouth and coughed again and again. Spasms tightened her throat. Dizziness washed through her head. The poison’s effect was getting worse.
The leaves of one of the plants bulged. Something squirmed within. Still crouching, Lauren dropped the glove and pulled the leaves back, revealing an egg, the same size as the one the dragon had put on the mount, transparent now, though it glowed green. Inside, a white-haired boy stood with his arms spread and his hands pressing on the inner shell as if trying to escape. Flames surrounded his body, but he didn’t appear to be in any pain.
The combined waves of lava rolled closer, now within a few steps, only seconds away from overtaking them.
“Come on, Zohar!” Lauren clenched a fist. “It’s time to hatch!”
The egg swelled like an inflating balloon. Zohar grew with it. Lauren rose and stepped back, giving the egg room. When it reached her height, the shell burst into flames. Fiery fragments broke away. He punched through and spread out his arms. Like a sponge, his body absorbed the flames until they disappeared. His widened eyes darted, blue sapphires sparkling in the firelight. Wearing black pants and long-sleeved tunic, his white hair stood out like a dazzling beacon.
Lauren grasped his arm and pulled him closer to the tree. “Don’t be frightened, Zohar. We need you to close the portal by putting out this fire.”
“Yes, Abaddon let me watch your dilemma.” He leaned close and whispered, “I saw Sapphira try to extinguish the tree once, but it did not work. I have far less experience than she does.”
She jabbed a finger toward the tree. “We don’t have any choice! Just try!”
Zohar turned toward the tree and shouted, “Extinguish!”
The tree burned on.
He shouted again. “Extinguish!”
Still, the tree burned on.
A collective gasp filled the room, then silence. Lauren stared through the portal. The wall of lava loomed, a glowing, slow-motion tsunami. Flames erupted within the flow, making it look like an angry wall of pure wrath. Horrible heat filtered into the room. Fumes thickened. No more than a few seconds remained before they would all be incinerated. Even if they ran for the enclave, the fumes would kill them in short order.
Zohar stared at her, tiny flames rising from his hair, apparently the residual effect of absorbing his fiery egg fragments.
Absorbing? Lauren spread out her arms. “Zohar, can you absorb the flames like you did when you came out of your egg?”
“I’ll try.” He leaped into the burning foliage and clutched two branches. The flames bent toward him and streamed into his body. When he stepped back, every flame from the Second Eden portion of the tree came with him, and the leaves darkened.
Instantly, tiny sparks flew from the portal. With a roar, the surge of lava splashed against it. A few drops penetrated the vanishing holes and sizzled on the floor, but the rest faded as the portal disappeared. Zohar’s bodily flames diminished until they blinked out.
Now in three-quarters of their previous light, everyone stood motionless. A few coughs pierced the silence along with a whimper or two. Finally, a husky voice broke in. “Well, that worked better than my gloves did, I must admit.”
Lauren laughed. She threw her arms around Zohar and bounced on her toes. “You did
it! You did it!””
Amid sporadic coughing, the women and children joined in the laughter, the children bouncing with Lauren. While they celebrated, the smoke followed the heat upward. Soon, the fumes began to clear.
Zohar pulled away from Lauren’s embrace. “Your idea was brilliant and timely. You saved everyone.”
“I saved us from my own stupidity.” She let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so negative. Thank you for the compliment.”
Zohar gave her a polite nod. “Gladly given.”
Sir Barlow stood facing the Earth wall with Tamara at his side. “Something is happening here,” Barlow said. “I think these unsavory fellows might see us.”
One of the guards walked closer to the portal, his head cocked to the side. “Hey,” the guard said, “get a look at this.”
A second guard drew near. “A light?”
“Yeah, like a fire.”
Lauren let out a shushing sound and motioned for everyone to get away from the Earth portal. Although the men likely couldn’t hear them, it made no sense to risk being detected.
As the Second Edeners shuffled back, one of the guards set his eye close to the wall. “I see a burning tree.”
The second guard huffed an obscene word and pushed the first guard out of the way. When he set his eye near the wall, he blinked. “There really is a burning tree.”
The first guard shuddered. “Think it’s the same world we saw by the chopper?”
“Don’t worry. Those shadow things ain’t crawling through this little hole.”
Another profanity burned in the air. The second guard picked up a rifle leaning against the wall. “Let’s see if I can penetrate this portal.”
The gun’s barrel protruded into the museum room. Holding her breath, Lauren herded the children toward the Abaddon’s Lair portion of the wall. The dragon was still there, sitting on his haunches next to his table, book, and mounts. “Hurry!” she hissed.
Tamara whispered to Lauren, “Heaven … looks better. … Why Abaddon’s Lair?”
