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Abigail stepped forward and sat on a log opposite Adam. She took a leather satchel from around her neck and set it on the ground in front of her.
Conversation ceased. The only sound came from far above—the pleasant rush of the wind through the trees. All eyes fixed on the satchel.
“Adam, I want to give you something. You need to take it and hold it tightly in your hand. If you do, it will strengthen you. Will you take hold of it?”
Adam nodded.
She reached into the satchel, felt around, and lifted something out—an item wrapped in velvet cloth. She placed it on the needle-strewn soil before Adam. She then closed the satchel, fastened the straps, and placed it back around her neck. Then she lifted her eyes to meet his.
Adam stopped breathing as, corner by corner, Abigail unwrapped the item. She set the cloth aside and placed the item on the log.
It looked like an old gray piece of wood, smooth from wear.
Adam lifted his eyebrows. “A scrap of wood?”
She gently shook her head, then picked it up and held it in her open palm. Now he saw—it was not a mere piece of wood.
As he studied it, he began to perceive subtle streaks of blue running the length of the piece. He ran his finger down the colors then turned it over in Abigail’s hand. On the other side, another color appeared. He had never seen this color before—or any like it.
Adam sat transfixed. The more he studied it, the more colors he saw. “This is amazing. What ... how does this ...”
“It’s important,” she said, holding it out to him, “that you hold the colors in your mind. If they fade from your memory, study the piece again. That will give you strength to walk.”
“Permanent strength,” Watson added. “The gem you hold in your hand will never wear out, never decay. It will exist in good condition ten thousand years from now. And if you grip it tightly, it can spark new life in you that will endure just as long.”
Adam took the piece with his thumb and forefinger, turning it and holding it up to the light. Inscribed on the piece were the words, “The banquet is like a treasure hidden in a field. A man finds it and in his joy, trades all his gold for the field.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“Look at it again. What was it that made the man give up everything he had?”
Adam studied the words. “His ... joy?”
“Yes! That’s exactly right. Now think—how could joy drive a man to give up everything?”
He considered the question, then looked up at Abigail, then Watson, then Kailyn, waiting for someone to explain yet another mystery. When it was clear no explanation was forthcoming, he studied the inscription again. It seemed like nonsense. Adam had felt happiness many times, but it had never driven him to rid himself of his possessions.
A gentle breeze brushed his face like velvet on his skin. A warm mist enveloped him, and his thinking became clearer. He looked again at the inscription.
Of course! Why hadn’t I seen this before?
“It was the value of the treasure. That treasure must be worth so much more than the man’s gold that he was happy to make the trade.”
Abigail’s smile affirmed his answer and radiated joy.
“Is that what you did, Abigail? Did your joy make you give up everything for a greater treasure?”
Her smile widened.
Adam had puzzled over what it was that made Abigail so attractive. She didn’t have the striking elegance of Jaqueline. She had a pretty face, but it wasn’t without flaws. A scar marred her right cheek, and her thin, curly hair had a mind of its own at times. But none of her imperfections detracted from her loveliness. If anything, they added to it. In this moment, Adam understood that her beauty derived from the joy behind that smile.
Abigail leaned closer. She pressed the piece into his hand and closed his fingers around it, then lifted his hand to his chest. “Hold this close to your heart. Only when you see the immense value of the cottage can you be cured of your love for gold.”
The piece warmed Adam’s hand, as if it were a living thing. He strengthened his grip. The tighter his grasp, the more healing warmth radiated into his hand and chest, spreading throughout his body.
Again, Adam’s desire to visit the cottage eclipsed all competing desires—like the feeling that compels a sick person to find medicine or a dehydrated man to crawl to an oasis in the desert. He rose to his feet. “I’m ready.”
*****
Anzu fumed. “You’re just letting them go? If they cross the river, they’ll be protected by guardians.”
When Adramelech kept silent, Lucius, the other lieutenant, stepped forward. “Morax is in the high country. The commander briefed him directly on his plan.”
Anzu eyed his rival. “What’s the point of that? If we take him now, we don’t need some fancy plan.”
Lucius shook his head. “Adam would still be in our hands if not for your impetuous attack on Kailyn. Now Adam has cottage pieces and has seen the colors. A direct attack now would have even worse results than your last failed attempt.”
Anzu spit his words through clenched teeth. “Adam has not been empowered and has no idea how to use the weapon he holds. A single blow from me, and he will drop it and never take it up again. I’ll go down there and finish this right now.”
“As usual,” said Lucius, “you underestimate the enemy and overestimate your own strength.”
“Maybe you want to test my strength for yourself!” Anzu moved within inches of Lucius’ face, meeting his colleague’s unblinking, icy gray eyes with the challenge of his own red-hot stare. Both warriors gripped their swords.
Adramelech stepped past his fiery lieutenants, closer to the clearing. “You will have your chance at combat soon enough, Anzu. But now is not the time. Adam is not the only one at play here. I have my sights on a greater prize.”
Lucius broke from the stare-down and turned toward Adramelech. Anzu released his sword, but not his angry gaze.
“Commander, if I may,” Lucius offered, “We must separate Adam from this group. If we bring Jensen or Alexander now, their arguments will be crushed again by those three. Adam will see it, and we will risk losing him forever. But if we could get Adam alone, I’m confident Alexander could win him over. If we use a disturbance in the river to—”
“Even if you could separate them, you would still fail,” said the commander. “Argumentation and reason will not work—not now. Arguments are most effective when they agree with appetites. Adam wants to taste the banquet, and a man hungry for the Ruler’s food is hard to deceive. But a man who is craving fruit will open his heart to almost any argument that coincides with his desires. Capture a man’s appetite, Lieutenants, and the rest of him comes easy.”
Neither lieutenant dared argue. Adramelech went on. “If you remember, that is how we captured Alexander. It was not on the strength of arguments. It was by feeding his bitterness and his lust that made him desire the woman more than the cottage. Then he resisted the wind to the point of no return.”
Adramelech faced his two lieutenants. “Adam and the others will be allowed to cross the river without hindrance. No one touches them. Allow them to make their way to the banquet hall. But do not let them take the direct line up the steep face. See to it that they take the long route—the smooth trail along the ridgeline.”
The commander turned away. “Morax!”
The warrior stepped forward, still winded.
“Your task?”
“Accomplished, commander. The bag is in place. I had to fell a tree, but I’m confident I’ll be able to lead him right to the fruit.”
“Excellent.” He looked again toward Adam and the three friends. “Excellent.”