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The strength of Kailyn’s grip surprised Adam. Stronger still was her tone. “There are far worse fates than what happened to those people.”
“Worse than having your chest ripped open?”
She pulled him around to face her. “Adam, listen to me. You’re dealing with powers you know nothing about. And if you’re taken ...” Her voice cracked. She released his arm and turned away, hiding tears.
Abigail wrapped her arms around Kailyn and held her.
Kailyn didn’t strike Adam as the type who cried easily. She reminded him of a river that ran slow and deep—calm on the surface, but with unseen power beneath and not easily disturbed. For her to be troubled so deeply, and the way Abigail comforted her—Adam sensed something greater at stake here than what lay on the surface. What did she mean by ‘taken’?
Watson set his jaw and his tone darkened. “There is no fate worse than that which comes to those who walk in the counsel of the little ones.”
“The little ones? You mean the Great Ones?”
A hint of a smile flashed across Watson’s face. “Yes, the ‘Great Ones.’ On this side of the river they are honored, despite their ignorance.”
“Ignorance? Those men are brilliant. Pick any subject, and they can expound on it endlessly.”
“Any subject?”
“Yeah. Biology, geology, medicine, physics, magnetism, gravity—you name it.”
“Did you ask them what powers gravity? Or magnetism? Are they cognizant of its source? Or purpose?”
“I guess I didn’t ask that.”
“Did you inquire as to the law of cause and effect? When did it begin?”
“Hasn’t that just always existed?”
“Without a cause?” Watson asked. “Are the laws of physics exempt from the laws of physics? The only uncaused effect in the world?”
Watson continued. “I do not doubt their voluminous knowledge of this world. However, their knowledge is limited to this world. Unhelpful for someone who belongs to another world—an unseen world, wouldn’t you say?”
An hour ago, Adam had been in awe of their intellect. After all, the city had enshrined their writings in the library. Would it be wise to brush all their collective knowledge aside? Who is this man to question them? For that matter, who am I to question them?
“How could such intelligent men be wrong about the most important matters of life?” Adam asked.
“Their intelligence goes only as far”—Watson tapped next to his good eye—“as their observations.”
“What other kind of intelligence is there? Isn’t it irrational to believe in things that can’t be observed?”
“It would be if observation were the only form of evidence. But to say that is to revert to the mentality of an infant who thinks the world disappears when he closes his eyes. Just because something is unseen does not disprove its existence. Nor is observation the only means of obtaining knowledge. It is useful for matters pertaining to the body, but not for matters of heart or soul.”
“But observational knowledge can be verified. What other form of gaining knowledge can be trusted?”
“Testimony,” said Watson. “Of all the things you believe, what percentage is from your own experimentation, and how much is from what you have read or been told by a reliable source?”
“I see your point. Most of what I believe comes from reliable sources. But who’s more reliable than the Great Ones? I spent some time with those men. We talked for hours, and there’s no doubt in my mind they care deeply about finding the truth.”
“Mere observation of events without comprehension of meaning is not a discovery of truth. It is half-truth. Less than half, in fact. What good is awareness of objects and processes if one remains ignorant of their purpose and meaning? To truly know what is seen, one must also know the unseen.”
“But if it’s unseen, how do we know it even exists?”
“You doubt the existence of the unseen? Does not that very act of doubting require the unseen powers of your mind, along with unseen motives of your spirit?”
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Adam said. “But have you ever spoken to those men? They’re so ...”
“Did they look big to you?” Kailyn asked.
“Did they look big? They were giants! And then they turned into wild animals.”
“You saw them as animals? Interesting.” Kailyn said. “They aren’t animals. Animals can be defeated with much lesser weapons. What you saw were the powers that control the little ones. Those powers and their minions must have looked to you like animals because that’s the closest thing you know. But that you detected them at all is a good sign. The wind must have been blowing on you.”
“Why did the ... ‘powers’ only appear when they saw you?”
“They were there the whole time, but they only become visible to us when the light from the cottage pieces exposes them.”
“That, and the wind,” Watson added. “The wind not only exposes them but also strengthens us to fight them. We have an advantage because the powers are incapable of detecting the wind—as are the lowlanders.”
Adam turned away, clasping his hands behind his head. The more they explained, the more his confusion increased. Could such a story be true? He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. But what did he believe? His imagination searched in vain for a more plausible alternative.
He half expected that when he turned around, the hallucination would be over and they would all be gone. Instead, he found all three eyeing him with curious stares.
He could hardly hear his own weak voice as he forced words from a dry throat. “Why did you ask if they looked big? Don’t they look big to you?”
“Let me show you something,” Kailyn said, walking back toward the site of the skirmish. “If you want to know someone’s true size, look at the footprints.”
Adam examined the tracks leading up to the spot. They were tiny, like the ones he had seen by the dead pine. He checked his own prints. Only slightly bigger. The tracks the children had left at the scene were adult-sized.
“Those men are perceived as great here because of the distortions of reality in the lowlands,” Watson explained. “West of the river, in the high country, reality is more perceptible. There, those men are known as “little-ones” because their souls have shrunk so small that their appetites do not extend beyond gold and fruit. They are masters at hiding their spiritual ignorance behind august knowledge of natural phenomena.”
“We’re too exposed here.” Kailyn interrupted. She pointed to where the powers had retreated. “They will return—probably with reinforcements. Let’s move down into those trees where we can have some cover.”
As they made their way toward the grove, Watson continued his explanation, “To apprehend truth requires both mind and soul. The mind cannot accurately process information without proper attitudes—attitudes it needs to interpret and absorb the information it receives. The way the little ones became so small was by severing the cord that connects mind with soul, leaving their souls to wither. And the mind, no matter how intelligent, cannot draw accurate conclusions when there is a diseased soul. Only an amenable heart and veridical soul discovers a conundrum’s quaesitum.”
Abigail gave Adam a knowing smile. “Sorry, sometimes he can be a little hard to understand.” She winked at Watson and turned back to Adam. “What he means is you can’t know the truth unless your heart is receptive to it.”
What Adam understood of Watson’s words made sense. But then again, he had felt the same way about the Great Ones—or little souls—whatever they were. Nothing, it seemed, was as it appeared, including these “children.”
“What about you?” Adam asked. “Why do you appear as children? Why the deception?”
“How a person appears is determined not by that person, but by the observer. The more highly you regard the one you observe, the larger he is in your eyes.”
“So people grow or shrink based on what others think of them?”
“They grow and shrink only in the eyes of the observers. But those assessments do not determine their true size.”
“Their true size ...” The thought seemed simple enough, but the idea struck Adam with force. He had never given a thought to his “true size.” He had always subconsciously measured himself by what others thought—or by his own feelings about himself. But how “true” were either of those?
“Yes,” Watson said. “True size. It is the measure of a man as judged by the Ruler. The Ruler considers great those who are small in their own eyes. Such people appear as children to those who are great in their own eyes, but who lack greatness in the Ruler’s eyes.”
“The Ruler ...” Adam turned to Kailyn. “When you spoke to me by the river outside the city, you told me you had been sent—sent by someone who knew about the pond and how I could get back home. This Ruler—is that who you were talking about? If I go with you, will he show me the way to the pond?”
“If you are willing, he will take you home. But you must understand—”
Adam didn’t catch the rest. Abigail had stepped close and touched his arm. His lone thought and his entire consciousness centered on one thing—that touch.
“Come with us to the cottage,” Abigail said, “and you will find your family.”
She sealed her promise with a subtle smile. That smile. This woman radiated beauty with any expression, but each time she smiled, the sun rose on Adam’s world. From a rational perspective, her promises about his family seemed fanciful. But how could any lie arise from the same internal source as that smile?
Rational or not, something in Adam wanted to believe. And everything in Adam wanted to go anywhere with Abigail—even if she was with Watson. Adam had seen the affection between them, but he’d also noticed her ringless finger. There’s always hope.
“I would love to come.”
Abigail’s face lit up like the sky at sunrise. She clasped Adam’s arm with both hands. “I’m so glad! You won’t regret it. Trust me—it will be a lot easier for you to believe when you are in the high country.”
Kailyn’s eyes snapped to the south. Watson and Abigail tensed and began scanning the area—first to the south, then in a full circle.
“Is something out there?” Adam whispered.
“There’s always something out there,” Kailyn said, still studying the trees to the south. “We need to go.”