From the Mouth of Elijah

by Bryan Davis

  “Is Valiant awake?” Dad asked.

  “No, but his companion is. I saw him blinking—” Listener cocked her head. “I hear something. An engine and whipping wind.”

  “Walter’s helicopter?” Matt asked.

  “Let’s hope so. If it’s not—” Dad’s brow bent. “I sense something.”

  The boil in Matt’s stomach ignited into a burning inferno. “Danger. I feel it.”

  Dad kicked through the fire and brushed sand over the flames. As the light died away, he raised his rifle and pointed it toward the top of the crater. “Get Valiant and the other guns!”

  “I’m on it!” Matt spun toward the wall, but his legs cramped, sending him into a tumble. As he slid painfully across the rocky ground, Listener ran past him.

  “Stay low, Matt! We’ll take care of it!” She shifted Mom from Valiant’s arms to the ground and hoisted Valiant to his feet. After shaking off his slumber, Valiant grabbed the two guns, gave one to Listener, and ran with her to Dad’s side. Their companions wobbled on their shoulders but managed to stay perched.

  “Son!” Dad, barely visible now, tossed the candlestone gun. When Matt caught it, he added, “Give it to your mother. I trust her to use it wisely.”

  While the trio aimed their rifles at the sky, Matt crawled to Mom. His calf muscles clenched, sending torture through his legs, but he had to go on. When he reached her, he helped her sit against the wall with the duffel bag behind her head. She opened her eyes halfway and whispered. “Matt. You’re awake.”

  “Shhh. Don’t waste your energy.” With only starlight guiding his way, he slipped the gun into her hand. His muscles eased a bit. “Dad says he trusts you to use it wisely.”

  She nodded. “As I would trust him.”

  He turned toward their three defenders. “I don’t hear the choppers yet, but I guess Listener’s ears picked them up from pretty far away.”

  Mom blinked rapidly, then her eyes widened. “I had a dream.” Her breathing spiked to quick, shallow gasps. “We cannot win this battle. We have to surrender.”

  The roar of an engine finally filtered into the crater, followed by the sound of helicopter blades beating the wind.

  “We have three trained warriors with assault rifles,” Matt said, pulling up his cloak’s hood to better conceal himself, “and they’re standing in the dark. An enemy helicopter can’t take them out before they shoot it full of holes. There’s no way. And besides, it could be Walter. The danger I’m sensing might be Semiramis coming out of hiding somewhere.”

  “Matt, my dream was blurry.” Her words pulsed through rapid breaths. “I saw headlights coming at me, like a hundred cars on the road. It was windy, very windy. My hair was blown about. A voice spoke out of the wind telling me to go with them. I knew if I resisted, all would be lost.”

  “Just settle down—it’ll be all right.” He compressed her hand lightly. “Not every dream is a prophecy. There aren’t any roads down here, much less cars, so—”

  The engine roar heightened. Lights appeared over the lip of the crater—three, then six, then a dozen, looking like drifting stars thousands of feet above.

  “Choppers.” Staying on his knees, Matt straightened as the lights panned across the encircling wall. “We’re trapped.”

  * * *

  Wearing Sir Barlow’s gloves, Lauren picked up one of the fallen leaves from the tree of life and relit it from the tree’s flames. Using it like a match, she began spreading the flames across the Second Eden side of the tree.

  Joan floated around her head, blinking with blue light and darting from one point to another like a luminescent dragonfly. Your experience in these matters is beautiful to behold, mon amie. You are wise to restore a view of the portal before attempting to open it.

  “Well, I didn’t want lava pouring in here. Abaddon said it’s cooled, but he didn’t say how cool.”

  Joan zipped in front of Lauren’s eyes. I enjoy hearing your voice, but remember that you can speak to me with your mind. In times of trouble, silence might be required.

  Lauren nodded. I understand.

  As she relit one leaf after another, the growing flames seemed to pierce her mind—warm and soothing. After the terrifying journey through Hades, the lonely wait in the midst of wailing laments, and the harrowing escape from the volcano, now seemed to be the first chance to rest, both physically and mentally. For the moment, peace reigned.

  Joan brushed against Lauren’s cheek. I sense relief in your mind.

  “There is some relief.” With the flames now spreading on their own, Lauren took a step back from the tree. “I still have a lot of questions.”

  Speak them. I might not have answers, but it often helps to give voice to puzzles.

  Lauren spread both hands and let the relaxing glow bathe her palms. “I feel … well … inconsistent, I guess. When a demon killed my best friend and I had to ride with him to a prison, I was scared, but I still managed. Looking back, it’s kind of hard to believe what I did.”

  Yes, Abaddon told me about some of your trials before you arrived. Your courage was exemplary.

  “I guess so, but when I was sitting alone in one of the tunnels here listening to the laments of condemned souls, I cried like a baby.”

  Such a display of emotion should not raise doubts, Lauren. Compassion is a beautiful expression of love.

  Lauren grasped Joan and let her sit in her palm. As the eyelets on the glassy surface blinked, a blue glow from within pulsed. “I felt sorry for them.” Lauren pointed at herself. “But I felt sorrier for me. I kept wondering if I would come here when I die. Why should I believe that I can escape when so many other people didn’t?”

  Ah! I know these thoughts well. Joan rocked to and fro. All my life I risked many dangers to serve my Lord, far more than most. Yet, I still feared the dark void that lay beyond the fires of execution. When one of my persecutors asked me if I was in a state of grace, I did not know how to answer. Of course, the question was merely a trap. Saying yes would give them opportunity to accuse me of pride, and saying no would be a confession that I am not one of God’s children, which would have fueled their accusations that I am a sorceress. Although aware of their schemes, the question became a true quandary. How could I know for certain whether or not I was in a state of grace and preserved for entry into Heaven? So I answered, “If I am not, may God put me there; if I am, may God so keep me.”

  Lauren blew a breathy whistle. “I don’t blame you for dodging the question. It was loaded.”

  A dodge, indeed, but it was a faithful dodge, a true expression of my troubled thoughts. Joan’s light dimmed. And my thoughts grew even more troubled when I awoke as Abaddon’s prisoner. That place surely was not Heaven, and it resembled no paintings of Purgatory that I have ever seen. I wondered out loud if my faith had been nothing more than a mirage. After literally giving my life for the Glorious One, I had still come short of achieving the goal of Paradise. My situation proved my doubts.

  “And do you still have doubts?” Lauren asked.

  Shouldn’t I have doubts? The egg stopped rocking. Do you think my current situation is an improvement over my previous one?

  “Well, it’s nowhere near Heaven, if that’s what you mean, but it’s better than dealing with that dragon, isn’t it?”

  In some ways. Perhaps all will become clear as we continue this journey. Joan lifted from Lauren’s hand and rose to her shoulder. For now, let me consider how I can counsel you regarding eliminating your own doubts. Serving you in this way will be true joy.

  Once the entire tree had regained its blaze, Lauren walked to the portal and scanned the Second Eden scene, still well lit by the moon’s bright glow. A sea of hardened lava, black and porous, rose to calf level. Apparently the flow had spread out and covered the field with a foot-high mantle of volcanic material, but if she were to open the portal, would the stuff topple into the museum room?

  She shook off the oversized gloves and
let them fall to the floor. Probably not. It likely just continued on the opposite side of the portal in an uninterrupted shield.

  Although the lava no longer appeared to be in motion, steam rose from holes and fissures throughout much of the black expanse, interrupted by spots of glowing orange. “I guess it’s cooler,” she said, sighing, “but it still looks hot out there.”

  Joan floated near the corner of her eye. Abaddon said to let wisdom guide you, but wisdom and knowledge are inseparable allies. Since it appears to be safe to open the portal, I suggest doing so. That way you can get a better look. Feel the air. Smell the odors. Let all the senses provide the information you need.

  “If there were any holes in the portal, I could hear what’s going on over there without opening it. I’m guessing that when Zohar closed it, all the holes went away, and now we would have to heal people with the leaves to poke new holes.” She looked again at the Earth portal, still void of guards. Noises filtered in from the hole the mustard gas had seeped through. A distant pop sounded like a gunshot. That route to Earth still wasn’t a safer way to go.

  Lauren crouched next to Apollo and slid it a few inches in front of the Second Eden portal. She set her finger over the button at the base. “Here goes.”

  She pushed the button and jumped back. Apollo flashed. A ripple of light ran across the portal from bottom to top, then blinked off. Riding on ash-sprinkled air, a wave of sounds pushed into the museum room—creaking noises, a whistling wind, a warbling trill from far away, and a low growl from even farther.

  Inhaling through her nose, she took in the smells. The ash carried an earthy odor, not nearly as foul as expected, and something else tinged the air. What was it? The smell of springtime?

  Lauren knelt at the portal boundary and studied the top of the lava shield. Short tufts of grass covered the black field like green whiskers on a dark face. She drew her hand closer to touch the tops of the blades, but the scalding heat made her jerk back. How could such tender grass survive this kind of heat?

  “Valiant called this sacred soil,” she whispered. “It must have very special properties.”

  Joan floated down to Lauren’s elbow and tipped to the left then the right. I assume it is special. I have never visited Second Eden, so I know only what Abaddon has told me about the babies who are brought there after dying in their mothers’ wombs. For ground to give new life to squandered children, I think it must be sacred and certainly fertile.

  “Then maybe it’s safe to walk on.” Lauren sat fully and examined the sole of her shoe. It looked thick enough to withstand at least a little burning. She stood and raised her leg, ready to step over the boundary.

  No! Joan swept up Lauren’s arm and flew in front of her nose, flashing red. You must walk barefoot on sacred ground, according to the holy word.

  “Barefoot?” Lauren scowled at her. “I noticed that the Second Edeners were all barefoot, but Matt and my mother weren’t. And what holy word are you talking about?”

  Have you not heard what God told Moses at the burning bush? “Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.” And we have a burning bush here with us. By rights, your feet should be bare already.

  Lauren sat down and glanced at the tree. “I think I saw something like that in a movie.”

  A movie? Joan drew closer to Lauren’s eyes and hovered in place for a long moment. Finally, she rocked back and forth as if nodding. I see that I have much to teach you. Abaddon did not tell me what you lack.

  “What do you mean?” Lauren looked cross-eyed at her. “What do I lack?”

  It would make no sense to describe the color of a sapphire to the blind or the sound of a nightingale to the deaf, so I will teach you by experience as we journey together. I told you I would consider how to help you eliminate your doubts, and now the time has come to begin the purging.

  “But if I walk barefoot out there, I’ll scorch my feet.”

  And therein lies your first lesson. “When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.” I quoted that verse to myself a thousand times while in prison.

  “But you did burn. You died in flames.”

  Yet you saw me without the odor of burning flesh or even a scorch mark.

  “Right. I assumed that you rose from the …” Lauren nodded slowly. “Okay. I get it. It’s a spiritual thing. But that doesn’t help me here. My feet are physical, and if I burn them, I won’t be able to walk for weeks. I know. I burned a foot once before. It hurts like crazy, and I was on crutches for a week and a half.”

  Joan flashed red, like a police light’s strobe. Lauren Acacia Bannister, are you trying to educate me about how much pain fire can inflict?

  Lauren blinked at the little egg’s eyelets. “Acacia? My middle name is Marie.”

  Your adopted name was Lauren Marie Hunt. Your birth name was Karen Acacia Bannister. From what I have heard, your birth parents have accepted your adopted first name, but you are regaining your middle and last names.

  “Oh, so you do know quite a bit about me.”

  I do, but, as I said, I know very little about what you lack. Joan’s flashes ebbed. Lauren, when I underwent my trials, I feared the flames. My tormentors reminded me of them daily, promising slow-burning green wood so that I would suffer all the more. I was terrified. My body quaked. Yet, I did not recant my faith. In a moment of weakness, I did give in on one point, and I am grateful that history has been merciful to me about that, but knowing what I do now, if I were my own companion, I would encourage myself to stand firm and never give in on any point. And do not think that you are putting God to the test with what might seem to be a prideful act of showmanship. You have the gift of heavenly hearing. Listen to his voice crying from the tree itself. Joan brushed against Lauren’s cheek. Oh, mon amie! I urge you to take my advice. If you can overcome this simple fear and take one step of naked faith, one stride with a heart of courage, the next step will be easier, and you will be well on your way to readiness for greater and more fearful steps.

  Lauren grasped Joan and pulled her down. Opening her fingers, she stared at the little egg in her palm. Why would she be so adamant about this? It didn’t make sense. Like she said, it seemed like showing off, not something of real value. Yet, Joan was her companion, called to provide guidance.

  “Heart of courage,” Lauren whispered. Her father’s words returned to her mind. “Courage isn’t always something you plan. … Once in a while you know in advance about difficult times you have to face, and you have a chance to build courage beforehand. … We need tests of courage like those.”

  Lauren took in a breath. This was one of those times—facing danger with full knowledge without relying on instinctive actions. If she could do this, whether she flinched or not, the next steps would be easier, as Joan said.

  A slight hissing noise emanated from the tree. She cast her gaze on it. It had never made a sound before. Yet, she hadn’t really listened to it since Sir Barlow sliced off its leaves. Maybe now …

  She rose to her feet and walked toward the tree, keeping her focus on the undulating flames. Joan floated along at chin level and stayed dark and quiet.

  As Lauren stared, the fiery leaves formed an image, a person carrying something in an uplifted hand. She stepped closer. A girl? Yes, a girl, and she carried a cross.

  Flames from the leaves drifted to the cross, clarifying the rest of the scene, as if the tree had created a viewing portal into another world. The girl, white-haired and barefoot, stood at the edge of a precipice, her cross ablaze.

  Lauren squinted. Sapphira! Abaddon had mentioned her sacrifice. Could the tree be replaying it now?

  Sapphira lifted her gaze high and shouted, “I was born Mara, a slave girl of the earth!”

  The words echoed in the museum. Lauren glanced around. The voice and the echo were both so real, as if Sapphira actually stood in the room.

  Sap
phira shouted again. “And I once knew you as Elohim!”

  Her words continued to echo, seeming to wrap Lauren in ribbons of voice, much like one of Joran and Selah’s sound barriers. After two orbits around her head, the ribbons flowed into her ears and bathed her mind with pulses of emotion. Ah! Pure joy! Release from chains! The delight of freedom! Could this be what Sapphira was feeling?

  Sapphira called out, “But now I call you Jehovah-Yasha!”

  More ribbons poured forth, radiant and vibrating. These, too, rode the fire’s light and poured into Lauren’s mind. Ecstasy surged. She lifted her hands toward the ceiling. Bliss! Light bursting forth and filling the darkness! Had anyone ever felt such glory?

  Now Sapphira’s voice filled the room with booming resonance. “I finally know what you want me to do! You want me to die! And to be raised from the dead as Sapphira Adi!” She waved her cross over her head in a circular motion, creating a rising cocoon of fire. A cylinder of flames descended from above, and the two fires met, swirling in the air.

  Lauren lowered her hands and scooted a step closer, breathless. “You want me to die,” she whispered, “to be raised from the dead.”

  Sapphira stepped to the edge of the precipice. “Now take me where you want me to go, whether to heaven or to hell, to England or to Montana, or keep me here in this tomb forever. I will be content to serve you no matter what you decide … Jehovah-Yasha.”

  Sapphira lowered the burning cross and hugged it against her chest. The flames spread across her clothes, and the cross melded into her skin. Then, her entire body burst into flames, and she leaped into the chasm. The hovering cylinder shot down after her and wrapped her up in a fiery coil.

  The call echoed, “Jehovah-Yasha … Jehovah-Yasha …”

  As Lauren stared at the falling fire, she blended in her own voice. “Jehovah-Yasha.”

  The cross of Christ is in Sapphira’s heart, Joan whispered. If you are to die to yourself and be raised to new life, you must embrace the same fire. It is not enough to mentally accept pulpit sermons; you must join Jesus on the cross. Let him purge your sin with holy fire. Let faith conquer fear. The Oracles of Fire have shown you the way. And take courage, I am with you.