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As Adam and the group stepped through the splintered doors of the wooden hall just north of the cottage, unfamiliar aromas enraptured Adam’s senses.
Abigail and Kailyn’s conversation sounded to Adam like a foreign language. Filet mignon, rib eye, rack of lamb, garlic potatoes—what were these strange terms? Adam and Levi exchanged puzzled looks. Could they be talking about food that wasn’t fruit?
Abigail’s smile brightened as she greeted more friends than Adam could imagine one person having. A woman hugged her from behind. Somehow Abigail knew who it was, and both women laughed.
The bright faces, the laughter, and the warmth of all the greetings struck Adam. He’d never seen anything like it. The pleasantries among friends in the lowlands didn’t compare. The scene brought back dim memories of Adam’s life with his family before the pond.
Abigail turned to greet another friend. “Tichi! So good to see you. Is Hodia here?”
“Right over there.”
Abigail and the others crossed toward Hodia’s table. Adam and Levi followed.
The inside of this unremarkable pine edifice was nothing like what Adam expected. He had imagined something akin to a museum where people sat quietly and observed the colors of the cottage. But the room bubbled with energy. And the happy, friendly rumble of conversation and laughter accompanied by the clinking of glasses and dishes filled the hall with a mood of celebration.
“I’ve never seen architecture like this,” Adam said. “Such a high ceiling! And ...” he pointed to the massive balcony surrounding the room, “what is that for?”
Abigail exchanged a smile with Tichi, then turned back to Adam. “You’ll see.”
Conversations paused as an infectious laugh rang out.
“Layth’s here!” exclaimed Kailyn as everyone at the table except Adam and Levi smiled. Clearly, they all knew that booming laugh.
A patchwork of scars decorated Layth’s leathery skin. Adam leaned close to Watson. “What happened to him?”
“He has faced the warriors in many battles. I doubt anyone in this hall has fought as valiantly as Layth has. The joy you see in him has grown out of the soil of bitter suffering.”
Between smiles, Adam saw pain in Layth’s eyes, and a subtle limp that hindered his quick, powerful stride.
“No one enjoys these dinners more than Layth,” Abigail added.
“I can see that,” Adam said.
Abigail smiled. “I’m not talking about his size. I mean his delight in anything that comes from the chef. You can’t talk to Layth more than a couple minutes without the conversation coming around to the chef and his amazing food.”
As Layth approached the table, Watson rose and the two men embraced.
“Layth, I want you to meet Adam and Levi.”
“Looks like you’ve encountered our canine ‘friends,’” Layth said, noticing Adam’s wounds.
“Uh ... yeah,” Adam stammered, surprised by the abruptness of the remark. I guess he’s not the type to waste time on small talk. Adam glanced at Levi, whose injuries were far more severe. Why did he notice my wounds and not his?
Despite this man’s intimidating forwardness and immense size, his genuineness and joyful demeanor drew Adam in. He seemed to know Adam’s troubles, like a lifelong friend who is free to bypass social convention and go right to what matters.
And whatever discomfort Adam felt was more than offset by Abigail’s presence. He could handle anything, it seemed, with her by his side.
And she was. To Adam’s delight, Abigail had taken the seat next to him. She leaned close and grasped his arm. “I’m so excited you came, Adam. You’re going to love it!”
He assumed Abigail was always happy when someone visited the banquet hall for the first time, but he hoped her happiness in having him there meant something more. He sensed it did.
The doors opposite the entrance opened and several men carrying loaded trays began serving the tables. Each person received a different entrée.
Adam eyed the strange objects on the plate before him, then glanced at the other dishes around the table.
“The chef decides what to serve each person,” Watson explained. “He always gets it right. He knows our appetites better than we do.”
“He certainly does,” Tichi added as she received her plate, eyes wide and smiling like someone who had just received a priceless treasure.
When Layth took a seat next to Kailyn, Watson motioned to the head waiter. The tall, stately gentleman approached the table and, standing behind Tichi and Hodia, laid a hand on each of their shoulders.
The gestures of warmth, the familiar yet respectful interactions, their body language—everything about these people gave Adam the sense that they had known one another a long time. Or that they had labored together in some great task.
Layth leaned toward Levi and Adam, lifted his arm toward the waiter, and said, “Charles Baxter. No one serves it up like him!”
Charles smiled behind a gray beard. “It’s not like it’s rocket science, Layth. The chef does all the work. All I have to do is get it from the kitchen to the table without dropping it.”
Adam and Levi, now on their feet, shook his extended hand.
“Pleased to meet you both. I hope you’ll make yourself at home.”
Charles then made his way around the table, hugging each of the others.
Judging by the way he spoke and carried himself, Adam took Charles to be an educated, capable, and distinguished gentleman. And his handshake revealed unusual strength for someone his age. Why is a guy like that working as a waiter?
The round of hugs also puzzled Adam. It seemed presumptuous for a server to take such liberties. But at the same time it seemed beneath a man of his age and dignity. At once, above his station and beneath his stature, yet the friends received it as the most natural gesture in the world.
“Well, I’d better get back to the kitchen,” Charles said. “We’ve got a lot of—”
“Dishes?” Hodia asked, already on her feet. Tichi also stood, dropped her napkin on the table, and started toward the kitchen with Hodia.
Adam leaned in to Abigail and whispered. “Couldn’t that have waited until after they ate?”
Abigail chuckled. “Of course it could!”
“Then why ... they seemed so excited about their food and didn’t even get a single bite.”
“Are you feeling sorry for them?” Abigail chuckled again. “They’re in the kitchen now ...” she raised her eyebrows, “with the chef. Everyone at this table envies them. If they would have hesitated even a second, someone else would have jumped up. Those two just always seem to beat us to it.”
Adam watched the two ladies make their way across the crowded hall. The way people stepped aside for them, pausing their conversations, the looks of admiration—“Are they rich? Or ... famous? Or ...”
Abigail cocked her head. “Adam, they’re servants.”
“I should get back there and help the ladies,” Charles said, finishing a brief conversation with Layth. He took a few steps toward the kitchen, then turned, pointed at the group and said, “Remember: Walk with the wind”—Layth, Watson, Kailyn, and everyone else in earshot finished the slogan in unison—“and you won’t want the fruit!”
*****
Gadol surveyed the gathering of humans in the banquet hall. “They don’t even realize we’re here, do they?”
“They should,” Qashar replied. “They’ve been told about us.” He sighed. “They tend to forget there’s more to life than just what they can see.”
“Who’s he?” Qashar pointed toward the door where a hulking guardian had just entered and looked around the room like he was lost.
“I don’t know,” said Gadol. “But whoever he’s here to guard is going to be safe. He’s huge!”
Chayil, the ranking guardian in the group, caught the newcomer’s attention and waved him over. “His name is Nathan. He’s here to guard Levi.”
Gadol’s eyes lit up. “Levi’s getting a guardian? That’s great!”
“Yes. It’s a good sign.” Chayil said.
As he approached, Nathan nodded at each of the guardians in the group, then embraced Chayil. “So good to see you again, old friend!” Nathan stood almost as tall as Chayil and might have been even more muscular.
As he released the embrace, Chayil pointed to Levi. “There’s your man.”
Nathan pressed his lips together and nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem.” Then he turned back to Chayil. “Why me? Is he in danger?”
“Not that I know of. He hasn’t even gone through the cottage yet.”
Nathan gave another thoughtful nod. “You don’t still do the thing with the names, do you?”
The chorus of laughter from the other guardians gave him his answer.
Chayil gestured to Gadol. “He guards Kailyn. Her weapon is strength and courage, so we call him K-lion.
Nathan rolled his eyes.
“Qashar guards Watson, the strategist—really smart. So his nickname is Sol. You know—for Solomon.”
“Clever. What about you?”
Chayil pointed to Layth. “That’s my guy. He’s a handful.”
“I meant your nickname. What do they call you?”
“Well, uh, it’s not really related to his weapon. For some reason they—”
Gadol blurted it out. “Big Red!”
Chayil shook his head. “The man is a legend on the battlefield, strikes fear in the hearts of commanders and powers, and has defeated scores of warriors singlehandedly. And they name me after his hair.” He shook his head again as the others laughed.
Nathan sighed. “I guess there’s no avoiding it.” He turned to Levi. “But if he hasn’t gone through the cottage, he doesn’t even have a weapon. So what—”
“Levite!” Gadol said. “We’ll call you Levite.”
“Seriously? That’s the best you can—”
“Levite it is,” Chayil said.
Nathan/Levite turned to Abigail. “So she’s the one I heard about.” He set his gaze on her guardian. “What do they call you?”
“He doesn’t need a nickname,” Chayil said. “He already has the perfect name to go with Abigail’s weapon. Charis.”
“Ah, Greek for grace and beauty.” He looked again at Abigail. “You’re right. It is perfect.”
*****
As the servers brought tray after tray to the table, Levi leaned toward Adam. “We’ll all be sick tonight!”
Eye’s wide, Adam smiled. “Guess so!”
“No we won’t,” Layth said as he bit into a leg of lamb.
Watson explained. “The chef’s delicacies are unlike fruit in every respect. You may indulge as you please. Indeed, the more you consume, the better you feel.”
“It doesn’t hurt your gut?” Levi asked.
Watson shook his head. “No nausea, no discomfort, no obesity, no adverse effects of any kind. Every bite brings only improved health and growth.”
“So you just keep eating until the food runs out?” Levi asked.
“It never runs out,” Watson said. “That is part of what makes the banquets so enjoyable—the sheer abundance.” He waved his arm in a sweeping motion. “If every person ate all day and all night they would not consume a tenth of the spread.”
Layth raised a fork. “And the great thing about this hall is the wait staff. They make sure all plates and cups are kept full.”
“If you never feel over-full,” said Adam, “and the more you eat, the better you feel, and it never runs out, what makes you stop eating?”
“Only lack of appetite,” Watson said.
“And Judas desires,” Abigail added.
It all seemed far too good to be true. But then again, so many things had turned out to be the opposite of what Adam had expected, he was ready to believe just about anything.
“’Nuff yammerin’ already.” Layth pointed his fork at Adam’s plate. “Dig in.”
Adam took in the feast in front of him and wasn’t sure where to start—mainly because he didn’t recognize anything on his plate.
“Let me help you,” Abigail said as she reached to take a large, red object from the center of his plate. “This is a lobster tail. You crack it open—like this.”
His pulse raced as Abigail’s arm pressed against his.
“Here, that’s melted butter. Dip it ... there you go.”
Adam placed the morsel between his teeth, bit into it, chewed, swallowed, and tasted ... nothing. He took another bite. No flavor at all. The food seemed to dissolve in his throat. He bit into a pork chop. It was like eating air. He sampled every item on his plate—nothing.
Adam’s eyes darted around the table. Everyone—including Levi—appeared to be enjoying every bite.
What’s wrong with me? Am I losing my mind?
He surveyed the surrounding tables. To his left, three people ate heartily, but three others hadn’t touched their food. At the table behind Layth, only one person was eating. After a quick scan of the tables, Adam guessed a third of the people were not eating. Maybe half. He understood why. Who wants to eat air?
But what of all the people who were eating and clearly enjoying it? Were they pretending? The words of Alexander floated into Adam’s mind. They believe it’s true because they want it to be true.
A stab of fear alarmed Adam. Was he being pulled into superstition?
Abigail was an emotional person. He could see her being manipulated. But what about Watson? He’s a rational guy. How could a man like him be convinced he’s eating food when he isn’t?
Adam was haunted with a sense that the problem was his. Something was wrong with him. Deep down—deeper than the wounds from the wolf bites, something at the core of his being lay dead. That’s why he didn’t taste the food.
Was that it? Or were all these people being duped by some kind of mind-altering cult?
“I’m afraid I have to go,” he said, standing up. “Thank you for bringing me. I’ve enjoyed meeting all of you. But I need to leave.”
“You can’t go now,” Abigail pleaded. “You haven’t even seen the chef. He’ll come out any minute now. At least stay until then.”
Adam looked toward the kitchen. He hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t be here.”
He was careful not to look at Abigail, knowing if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave. His steps toward the door were as brisk as he dared without drawing attention. Once outside, he ran.
A cycle of emotions drove his pace. Too many bizarre happenings. Being surrounded by that many unexplained mysteries was ... too much.
His run became a sprint, fists clenched. He had given up everything and endured so much. And for what? Lies!
Then he slowed, then stopped. Now what?
He had covered a good half mile before he even thought about his direction. Do I go back to the lowlands? He recalled what had driven him to the high country in the first place. Which was worse—feeling confused and condemned in the banquet hall, or empty and dry in the orchard? Both were unbearable. Faced with those options, he’d rather feel nothing at all. Why go on living?
Whoa—where did that thought come from? He shook his head. “Pull yourself together Adam.”
*****
Big Red stood with Sol and K-lion at the hall door and watched Adam disappear into the distance. All three guardians snapped to attention as Gibbor the Mighty approached from the kitchen. “As you were,” Gibbor said. None of the three had ever met Gibbor before—or any guardian of his rank. But why had he been called? There must be more to this operation than they knew.
Big Red had been the highest ranking guardian in the region before Gibbor’s arrival, and he was the first to summon the courage to address the legendary leader. “Do you think Adam will come to his senses? Or will he go back across the river?”
Gibbor was silent for a long moment, then spoke in a grave tone. “If he crosses the river, it will not go well for him. He will be overtaken by his greatest fear.”
“Bondage?” Big Red asked.
The imposing guardian took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. “Worse.”
Gibbor straightened and spoke to Big Red, K-lion, and Sol with a tone befitting his rank. “Return to your charges and build them up. Tell Levite and Charis to do the same. Especially Charis. I believe the enemy will go after Abigail. Allow yourselves no rest. See that the humans are ready. I sense they are about to be severely tested, and they must not fall.”
“If Adam is taken,” he added, “he will face the darkest days of his life. But it won’t just be him.” Gibbor turned toward the banquet hall. “This whole place could become a pile of rubble.”
Had it been anyone else speaking, Big Red would have assumed that to be exaggeration. But he did not take Gibbor as one to speak loosely. Big Red imagined the magnificent hall falling, and he cringed. How could the fate of one man who hasn’t even been through the cottage affect one of the most powerful banquet halls in the region?