Chapter 4
Elam walked at the back of the line, Abraham taking the lead, with Dikaios in between, Acacia riding his bare back. The horse’s coat shimmered like diamond dust in the moonlight as they trooped along the river’s edge against its flow. With the moon now eclipsing, the surrounding forest grew progressively darker, making it impossible to detect any shifting shadows at the tree line.
Acacia kept a blossom of flames in her palm, switching hands when her arm grew weary. From time to time she would kindle the flame into a larger fireball, allowing a quick scan across the sandy beach from the river to the forest. This worked well until the heat became too much for Dikaios, though he merely snorted to indicate discomfort.
Soon, Pegasus blinked out. A blanket of darkness spread across the valley, a heavy, stifling darkness that carried a new wetness. Elam held out his palm but felt no raindrops. Able to see little more than Acacia and her flame, and Dikaios and Abraham at the edge of the glow, he maintained the pace, though his shoes felt heavier every second.
After another minute or so, Abraham stopped and held up his hand. When the others halted, he sniffed the air. “The mists have come. We must make haste. The river will rise very soon.”
“The mists?” Elam asked.
“I will explain in a moment.” Abraham reached for Acacia’s arm. “Please dismount and illuminate the river. I think we have arrived at the crossing point.”
As she slid down, Abraham focused on Elam. “Unlike in your world, no rain falls here. Whenever Pegasus eclipses, great mists rise from the fountains of the deep and fill the air. They provide water for the plants.”
Elam listened to the river’s flow, picking up the sounds of ice chunks colliding, but darkness shielded the water itself. “And how does the river rise?”
While Acacia extended a huge fireball over the rushing noise, Abraham peered into the glow. “In the mountains, there are springs that gush in towering geysers at the time of eclipse, filling enormous reservoirs that feed this river.” He set a sandaled foot in the water, cringing for a moment before stepping in with the other. “It takes a few minutes for the rush to reach the waterfall that feeds this valley. That is why nothing grows on the surrounding beach. Each month, the flood strips away everything.”
Elam rubbed his shoe along the sand. “Everything is right.”
Abraham leaned over and peered at the opposite shore, now barely visible in Acacia’s light. “Yes, I believe this is Lilith’s Shallows. We should cross at once.”
Dikaios tromped into the water. “All three of you may ride. I am a strong swimmer.”
“There is more to avoid than just high water, my good horse. An ice boulder flowing at this rate could break your bones. I was thinking we would have to find stones or fallen trees to build a bridge of some kind, but our time is short.”
Acacia stepped out into the river. “Then I will go first.” Raising two handfuls of flames, she shouted, “Increase!” The balls of fire instantly tripled in size. Her eyes shining blue and her white hair blowing in the breeze kicked up by the river, she slowly waved each hand in a circle, making the flames spread out into a ring. Then, as she brought her hands down, she pulled her arms in against her sides until her entire body erupted in an inferno blaze.
With orange tongues shooting skyward, she waded into the river. Clouds of steam boiled all around, enfolding her in white. With fire constantly flashing within, she looked like a thundercloud drifting across the churning expanse.
A cacophony of booming sizzles and pops drowned out the sound of rushing water. Acacia stopped in the middle of the river, faced the current, and spread out her arms. The current bent around her on each side, but most of the water rushed upward in a billowing cloud of steam. “Go!” she yelled, barely audible in the chaos.
Elam leaped ahead, crossing the first third of the channel in swiftly flowing shallow water. As he neared Acacia, he tried to see through the cloud, but it was no use. Heat from the steam nearly scalded his skin, and the water that passed between her legs bubbled as it flowed over his shoe tops, radiating intense heat into his toes. Even with all the sizzling, Acacia’s labored breaths reached his ears. She was tiring. How long could she hold out?
He took leaping steps the rest of the way. Dikaios followed, then Abraham, who looked like a human jumping bean as he bounced through the boiling water.
As Abraham reached shore, he called out. “Come, dear Oracle. We are all safe.”
The cloud that enveloped Acacia turned slowly and drifted toward them. The flames within the mist ebbed. The sizzles eased. As the steam thinned out, her twisted, blazing face clarified, revealing her agony.
Standing on the shore, Abraham extended a hand. Elam sloshed into the shallows and reached as far as he could. A dozen or so paces remained, but with each of Acacia’s labored steps, her surrounding heat shield grew closer, hotter, baking Elam’s skin. He couldn’t grab her if he wanted to, and she couldn’t turn off her flames. Not yet.
Suddenly, a deafening rush sounded from upstream. “The flood!” Abraham cried. He dashed into the water, and, just as an enormous wave crashed over Acacia, he dove for her.
Something yanked Elam’s shirt. Flying backward, he could barely see the avalanche of water dousing Acacia’s flames as Abraham threw his arms around her. They disappeared in a spray of steam and foam.
Elam splashed backward in waist-deep water, the rushing current pushing him downstream while another force dragged him out of the flow.
When he reached safe ground, he jumped up and pivoted. Dikaios stood next to him, panting. “Get on my back! We must make haste!”
Elam leaped on and grabbed his long mane. Dikaios bolted into a frenzied gallop. Only a bare glow from Pegasus, now showing a yellow sliver, gave any hint of the river’s presence. The roar of raging water, however, guided his thunderous hoof falls.
The flooding river forced him to veer to the side. Trees raced by on the right, close enough to touch. The reemerging Pegasus painted shadows in the branches that seemed to reach out as they sped past.
Elam strained to see the water. Dikaios had finally matched the river’s pace. He let out a wild snort and leaped into a faster gallop. Well ahead on each shoreline, two shadows took shape, rocky promontories that jutted into the river. Whenever they reached that point, with no beach to follow, the chase would be over. Elam tried to focus on the stony barrier. Did it signal a waterfall? The river’s exit channel from this land of shadows?
A hand protruded from the river’s boiling surface, then another, yet too far in front and moving too fast to allow for rescue. Dikaios snorted again. Obviously he saw them as well.
As they closed the gap, Elam leaned forward, sliding his hands through Dikaios’s foaming withers, and shouted into his bent back ear. “We’ll never make it! The rocks!”
“I see the rocks! Just hang on!” As the hoofbeats thundered even louder, Elam grabbed two fistfuls of the horse’s mane and pressed his body against his muscular neck. The rocky towers loomed, now only seconds away. Pegasus brightened. The hands sank in the watery tumult and disappeared under a swirling rush of icy rocks.
With a loud whinny, Dikaios leaped. His glistening body arced over the churning water, and he splashed forelegs-first into the flood.
Buried to his waist in a wild rush of water and foam, Elam squeezed his eyes half-closed to ward off the icy spray. To his left, a head of white hair popped up, then rolled under the tempest. It surfaced again, this time with blue eyes shining and a wide mouth gasping for breath.
Acacia! Clutching the mane with one hand and clamping the horse’s body with his legs, Elam reached toward her, but she disappeared again, buried by foam.
Dikaios lunged with his head, snapping the water with his teeth, but his jaw resurfaced empty.
Once more, Acacia bobbed up. Elam threw himself into the water and grasped for something—a hand, an arm, her dress—anything. His hand touched a wad of strings. He clenched it with his numbed fingers and pulled, swimming furiously for Dikaios who now held Abraham’s collar in his teeth as he battled the raging river.
Pulling his limp, wet load, Elam thrashed with his free hand. Finally, he latched on to Dikaios’s mane. He looked back at his hand, now clutching a fistful of white hair. He pulled, bringing Acacia’s head above water. She gasped for another breath and flailed her arms, but he couldn’t risk letting go to catch her hand. He just had to hang on until—
Suddenly, the water gave way underneath. Their bodies followed, three humans and a horse plummeting into darkness. Elam let go of Dikaios and wrapped his arms around Acacia. Two seconds later, they splashed down. Their bodies knifed into a deep pool, water so numbingly cold, it stiffened his body and locked his joints.
The waterfall pushed them farther down. Thousands of tons of water pounded the surface above and created a plunging current. With Acacia now limp in his rigid arms, he fought back, kicking his pain-racked legs into motion.
His lungs ached. With water pressing into every cavity, he pushed back to keep from drowning. How could Acacia possibly survive, now unable to battle the chilling pressure of the life-robbing pool?
The moon’s glow rippled on the surface. Only a few body lengths to go. His lungs demanded air. He screamed inside, Just hang on! We’re almost there!
Kicking with all his might, he caught a current that swept him away from the downward blast. Then, with one final heave, he broke the surface and sucked in air. He dove under and set both hands on Acacia’s back, pushing from underneath to raise her head above water. As he kicked for shore, he couldn’t tell if she was breathing, but he had to keep going.
Finally, his feet touched bottom. As he trudged toward land, he regripped Acacia, threading his arms around her waist again as he rose up out of the pool. With both bodies soaked and heavy, including Abraham’s saturated cloak that had stayed clasped around his shoulders, he had to slide his shoes across the slippery ground, lurching with each frozen leg.
About thirty feet away, Dikaios dragged Abraham to shore, walking backward as he pulled on his collar.
Elam laid Acacia on a bed of gravelly sand and covered her with his body, hoping their combined heat would keep them from freezing to death. Kneeling, he set his ear close to her mouth. No sound, but the roar of tumbling water made it impossible to know for certain.
He laid his head on her chest. Again, no sound. No rise or fall. Not even a shallow breath.
“Dikaios!” Elam had to scream to overcome the roaring waterfall. “Help me!”
The rumble of hoofbeats signaled the horse’s approach. “Abraham is breathing,” he said, “but I fear he will not be alive for long if he remains exposed to the elements.”
Shivering violently, Elam stripped off the wet cloak, slung water from his hair, and looked up at Dikaios. “Find shelter! Leaves! Wood! Dig a hole! Something!”
As Dikaios galloped away, Elam pressed the heels of his hands against Acacia’s sternum and pushed several times, simulating the rhythm of a heartbeat. He slid over to her head, pinched her nose, and breathed into her mouth, but his body shook too hard. He could barely force any air into her lungs.
He pushed on her chest again, counting through watery coughs. “Ten … eleven … twelve …”
He lunged back to her mouth and breathed through her cold blue lips, glancing at her chest as he huffed. It rose, but less than an inch. He clenched a fist. It wasn’t working! He had to breathe harder! But was he even doing it right?
Pressing on her chest again, he lifted his head. “I need help!” he shouted. “She can’t die! She just can’t!”
Pegasus stared at him, its pockmarked yellow disk motionless in the purple sky. Hot tears warmed Elam’s cheeks. Did God hear? Was this dimension so different that God might not listen to prayer?
Elam continued his resuscitation efforts, alternately pushing air into her lungs and collapsing them again with a series of hefty shoves. How long could he keep going? Could he ever stop? Just give up and let her die? With more hot tears flowing, he gritted his teeth. Never! He would never give up! She had to live. She just had to.
After what seemed like an eternity, hoofbeats sounded again. Elam swung his head around. Dikaios galloped toward him, a dark man riding tall on his back with only one hand on the horse’s mane as they tore across a flat field. His other hand clutched a bag of some kind, but darkness veiled any details.
As soon as they slid to a stop at the river’s edge, the man jumped off and pushed Elam’s shoulder, knocking him down. “Give space!” he grunted as he dropped his bag and knelt at Acacia’s side.
Elam scrambled to his feet and glared at the man’s back, but he shivered so hard, he couldn’t talk.
“I found him while searching for shelter,” Dikaios said. “I will explain more later. Take the blanket from my back and cover Abraham.”
Elam touched the man’s shoulder and finally managed to spit out, “Breathe … breathe into her mouth.”
The man didn’t turn. “I know this.”
“Cover Abraham!” Dikaios pushed Elam with his head. “Now!”
Elam jerked the blanket from the horse and jogged toward Abraham, glancing back every second to keep an eye on the stranger. So far, he seemed to be doing nothing, only staring at Acacia.
He laid the rough material over Abraham’s trembling body and tucked it in at the sides, pressing down on him with his own body to offer what little heat he could. Thirty feet away, the stranger withdrew something from his bag while Dikaios looked on. A light sparked, but the stranger blocked the source.
Now certain he had helped Abraham all he could, Elam jumped to his feet and hurried back, his legs heavy and his shoes squishing on the hard ground. When he arrived, he touched Dikaios’s neck and looked at the shadowy figure looming over Acacia. With careful hands, the man pushed Acacia’s cheeks together, puckering her lips, and inserted the end of a flexible reed into her mouth. A flame burned at the other end of the hoselike plant that probably measured a half inch in width and two feet in length. “Hold lips,” the man said without turning.
Still shivering, Elam knelt and pressed Acacia’s lips around the reed, keeping it in place. The man pushed the reed deeper until it stopped, probably because it had jammed against the back of her throat.
“What will this do?” Elam asked.
The man said nothing. Tipping his head back, he laid something small and round on his tongue, then, leaning toward Acacia again, he opened his mouth wide and pushed the flaming end of the tube inside. Closing his lips around it, he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. A glow passed through the reed, as if thick radioactive liquid eased downward within the shaft.
Elam shook even harder but managed to keep his fingers around Acacia’s lips. What was that stuff? Did this guy who barely croaked a full sentence know what he was doing? He glanced up at Dikaios. Calm, as usual. Not a hint of emotion. Clearly he already realized the obvious. They had to let this man try to save her. What else could they do?
As the stranger pushed the liquid, smoke blew out from his nostrils, dense and black in the light of the moon. Finally, when the glow passed through Acacia’s lips, heat radiated into Elam’s fingers. It would be only a second or two before the liquid, whatever it was, came out the other end.
Suddenly, Acacia’s head jerked. Her arms stiffened. The skin around her mouth grew so hot, Elam’s fingers stung, but he kept them in place. He tried to catch any hint of change in the man’s expression. Was it time to let go? Was it working? Yet, the man kept a stoic face.
Finally, with a hefty blow, he forced the remaining liquid through the reed and jerked it out of Acacia’s mouth. Her skin grew blazing hot. Tiny sparks sizzled across her hair and erupted into tongues of fire.
Elam lurched back and blew on his fingers. The fire in Acacia’s hair spread to her face, then across her chest and arms. Yet, her dress and cloak didn’t burn, and not a trace of smoke rose from the inch-high flames. Her bosom suddenly arched up. Her eyelids flashed open, and her wondrous blue irises reflected the moon’s yellow face. She shivered hard, making the leaflike firelets wink out across her face and clothes.
The man slid back and let out a grunt. “Unusual girl.”
“Then she’s going to be all right?” Elam asked. His trembling began to subside in the warmth of Acacia’s blaze.
“If fire normal for strange girl …” He gave a firm nod.
A stuttering voice broke in. “She’s an … Oracle of Fire … Greevelow.”
Elam looked for the source. Abraham staggered toward them, the blanket draped over his shoulders. “We are … pleased that you … could help.”
Acacia, tongues of fire still arcing across her hair, pushed against the ground and rose to a sitting position. As she turned to gaze at each face, she blinked. “Is everyone okay?”
Elam took her hand. It was warm and dry. “I think so.”
“Your hair is wet,” she said. “You’ll freeze.” As her fingers lit up with a soft white glow, she combed them through his hair. The massage felt heavenly. Warmth surged through his body, loosening his rigid limbs. She lifted her other hand and whispered, “Give me light.” A handful of fire erupted in her palm, brightening the area and spreading warmth throughout their huddle.
Greevelow pinched the hem of Acacia’s cloak and sniffed it. “Oracle from Enoch?” he asked, turning to Abraham.
“She is.” As Abraham crouched close to Greevelow, his shivering eased. “We appreciate your help, especially in light of the conditions of our truce. Although we are far from home, we will gladly follow the river and avoid your master’s lands.”
Greevelow stared at Abraham. Now illuminated by Acacia’s flame, his features clarified. His nose, bulbous and shiny, still emanated twin trails of wispy smoke. Blinking his two enormous black eyes and furrowing his ebony brow, he nodded. “This is wisdom.”
“May we stay here until we are warm and dry?” Abraham asked.
Greevelow nodded but said nothing.
“I assume your people saw you leave with the horse. Will they ask questions?”
“Questions? Yes.” He pointed at himself. “Answers? No.”
Elam searched for a trace of a smile on Greevelow’s face, but his lips stayed taut. Every word eked out as if measured with a micrometer, and he seemed even more miserly with his emotions.
Greevelow picked up his bag, rose to his feet, and walked away. Out of the darkness, his voice rode the cold wind. “Keep blanket.”
“Do you want a ride home?” Dikaios called.
Only a grunt drifted in on the breeze.
As the roaring flood began to recede, Elam and Abraham plucked armfuls of reeds and piled them on the newly exposed sand. “Better to be close to the noise,” Abraham said, “in order to mask our conversation.”
Acacia drew her body into a cross-legged position and held out two cabbage-sized balls of fire. With an underhanded toss, she threw them onto the reeds. The flames crawled across the wet fuel, sputtering and smoking, but they soon caught hold and created a modest blaze. Dikaios edged as close as he could, and Elam and Abraham joined him and Acacia to complete a circle around the fire.
“Well,” Acacia said. “I didn’t even get a chance to thank him.”
“All for the best.” Abraham stood and laid the blanket on Dikaios’s back. “The lowlands people are not accustomed to polite words. They don’t consider them necessary.”
“I gathered that.” Elam rose to his feet and pulled his clothes away from his skin, flapping the material to help it dry. “So what now?”
Abraham pointed toward the waterfall. “I had hoped to cross the mountain ridge bordering the north side of the Valley of Shadows in order to exit into the highlands, a region of hills and mountains we call Noah’s Landing. We would have come out just south of Mount Elijah and cut across the alpine territory of my own domain. It seems the river had other ideas and deposited us in Adam’s Marsh.
“Still, this shouldn’t delay us too much. Ascending the ridge with all the shadow people around would have forced us to wait until dawn, and camping near the river would have been perilous. Now, we can depart whenever we feel warm, dry, and rested.”
Dikaios shook a spray of droplets from his mane and pulled the blanket off his back with his teeth. Ambling closer to Acacia, he extended his head and dropped the blanket at her feet. “For the lady.”
Elam scooped it up and laid it over her shoulders as he watched the flames’ reflections in the horse’s eyes. No doubt Dikaios had the same questions. Now that everyone had a chance to settle, it was time to ask them.
Finding a stiff reed half-buried in the sand, Elam scooped it up and poked a glowing ember. “Now that we have a little time, can you tell me what’s going on? If I’m a warrior chief, what kind of war am I supposed to help with?”
“A fair question.” Abraham draped his cloak over a stick he had pushed into the ground. “I already sang Enoch’s prophecy. Was there a part you didn’t understand?”
Elam chuckled. “Merlin used to sing poems a lot like that one, and they weren’t always easy to interpret. Sometimes he would explain them, and sometimes he wouldn’t. But I don’t even remember enough of the one you sang to raise a question.”
“Quite understandable. Enoch sang it to me at the dawning of every day, so it is embedded in my mind. I will repeat it for you, but without singing. After that frigid swim, I don’t think I could hold a note without shaking it to pieces.” He cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone.
The tunnel leads a warrior chief,
A youth with mystery in his eyes,
With flames he walks to burn the chaff.
A child he leads to silence lies.
And once the hearts of gold he trains
Are drawn to lights of holy depth,
Then wielding swords they journey where
Corruption’s harvest draws its breath.
When he finished, he shifted his cloak a half turn to dry another portion. “It seems that Paili is the girl who will silence lies. How you will do that is a question I should ask you, and what the other phrases mean will likely become clear as time presses forward, but I will first tell you of another prophecy that explains the coming war.
“Our world is unlike yours in many ways, but the pertinent difference is that our Adam …” He tapped himself on the chest. “… never fell to temptation. And I don’t have an Eve, so the possibility of succumbing in that manner did not exist. My people are born in plants that grow in our birthing garden, and they come into the world clutching companions, crystal eggs that float around their heads and always stay quite nearby. You probably saw them with Angel and her two children.”
Elam nodded. “I did. Very interesting.”
“A companion is a living conscience, a moral guide that cannot be suppressed by the mind or twisted to conform to outside influences. It is incorruptible, and it creates a spiritual attachment with a person’s soul.”
“So that’s why Angel seemed so … so perfect, I guess you could say. Her companion helps her stay flawless.”
“Indeed. And Angel is the finest example you can name. If a woman could possibly live as a saint without need of a companion, Angel would be that woman. Yet, I doubt that she would want to try.” Abraham touched his forehead with his fingertip. “You see, when they hover close, they are able to speak to the mind, thereby helping my people escape corruption all their years until …” He took in a deep breath. As he let it out slowly, he turned the cloak again even though the side toward the fire hadn’t had time to dry. Tears sparkled in his eyes. He sat still and watched the flames for several seconds, saying nothing.
Acacia slid her hand into his. “You lost someone close?”
Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he nodded. “One of our people rebelled. His name is Flint, a young man I had taken on as an apprentice, hoping he would help me as a judge over our growing population. Since he was highly intelligent, he became very knowledgeable, but he bristled at my authority. When he defied me in public, I had to send him away to prevent his attitude from spreading.”
“That must have been very painful.” Acacia pulled his hand toward her and kissed his knuckles. “And your heart is still broken.”
“No doubt.” After another moment of silence, Abraham’s frown deepened. “Yet far more painful than a broken heart, this rebellion changed our world. Soon after Flint left, the shadow people appeared in the valley, and other humanlike creatures emerged in the marsh and allied themselves with Flint. Not only that, many of the beasts that already existed here became aggressive toward us, when in the past, we could walk with any lion or bear as you would with a faithful dog. Fortunately, with the rebel gone, my people could live without his influence threatening their innocence.
“Still, I don’t know how long that will last. Enoch gave me another prophecy that I have shared with only a few, mainly my army’s general and the widows of soldiers killed in battle against what we call the altered tribes. Shall I recite that one for you, as well?”
“Yes,” Elam said. “Please do.”
Acacia nodded. “We would be honored to hear it.”
“Very well.” Closing his eyes, Abraham lifted his head and spoke with a vibrant voice.
For what was lost to be reborn,
Bestow your blood and breath.
To bring to life a dragon shorn,
Bequeath your willing death.
The birthing fields will spring anew
When seeded by the bones;
Companions dark will flash with light,
When dragons rise from stones.
A slave girl from another world
Will call a warrior hence;
A dragon slain will rise anew
And come to your defense.
While shadows dress the virgin soil
Before the moon gives light,
The girl calls forth the garden’s fruit,
Then day will rule the night.
They carry gems of ruby red,
A dragon’s essence stone;
The resurrecting power ignites
When ruby meets the bone.
Beware the dragon from below
Who sings a siren song
And calls an Eve from Eden’s twin
To twist the right to wrong.
The liar comes and breaks the seal,
Constructing stairs from Hell;
A war erupts and those corrupt,
Will call her to rebel.
Her words will send a dagger forth
And separate the skies;
Then down will come the rain of Earth
In water, death, and lies.
The judge can render just desserts
When criminals stand trial;
He offers death or life in shame,
Forever in exile.
Yet mercy comes, the gavel slips
From Father’s righteous hand,
And tears, remorse from broken hearts,
Will make the guilty stand.
And only one can save her life,
A man who lost his scales.
A sacrifice to win his wife,
If love is to prevail.
A bone, a stone, meeting atone,
A dragon born in flame;
A shield to wield, marching to yield,
The dragon sheds his shame.
When he finished, Abraham took in another deep breath and once again turned his cloak, his cheeks dripping tears.
Elam, Acacia, and Dikaios said nothing for several minutes. Elam let the words sink into his mind. Paili was obviously the slave girl who would call for a warrior, but who could the liar be? How could the liar’s words start a war?
He poked the fire again with his reed. “Do you have any idea who the liar is?”
“Only that the pronouns in the prophecy indicate a woman, though that might be a poetic device. But even if I knew, I’m not sure how to stop someone who wishes to lie. I could use persuasion, but little else would be effective. And once the lie is uttered, the damage would be done. I would do nothing to stop the ramifications.”
“Even if the result would lead to war?” Elam asked.
“Even then. You see, Enoch has since told me that my role is to create an environment in which no one should ever choose to lie. As I said, I can try to influence the potential liar with verbal persuasion, and I’m confident that I would be able to do so, but I would not use force. In fact, I would hope the lie would be spoken publicly. If one of my people still wants to lie, even in the face of full exposure, the guilt would be his and his alone … or hers, perhaps. That way, no one would be able to question her banishment.”
“Banishment?”
Abraham’s face reddened, and his voice grew sharper. “I assume you heard the prophecy. Only two punishment options are given—death or exile. A seed of corruption must never take root among my people. I banished the rebel. I will banish any liar. As you say in your world, ‘A little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough.’”
“I see.” Elam nodded slowly. Maybe it would be best to change the subject. Abraham’s emotions seemed as fragile as eggshells. He reached over and patted Dikaios on his neck as he lay on his belly. “So, what happened when you found Greevelow?”
Dikaios bobbed his head. “Since this is a land of grass and marshes, I was unable to locate any trees or leaves. I noticed firelight, so I galloped toward it and found a village of huts. Two men sat near the fire, and both jumped to their feet when they saw me. I explained our dilemma, but neither man reacted in the slightest. Finally, I asked for someone at least to help us revive Acacia. Greevelow nodded at the other man, pointed at the closest hut, and said, ‘Get bag. Not tell Flint.’”
“Flint?” Abraham’s eyes lit up. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. The other man entered the hut, walking much more slowly than I had hoped, and returned with a third man who handed Greevelow a bag.”
“I wonder if Flint saw you,” Abraham said.
“They did not introduce me to anyone named Flint.” Dikaios blew through his lips and shuddered. “But another man walked by asking questions about me, and the three answered with little more than grunts. If that fourth fellow was Flint, I am glad not to have met him. He had the eyes of a demon.”
“Yes … I know.” Abraham stroked his chin. “Go on.”
“After that man walked out of earshot, I asked Greevelow to ride me. He threw his sitting blanket over my back and mounted me like a seasoned warrior. I returned as quickly as possible, and you know the rest.”
Abraham stood and grabbed his cloak from the stick. “Did you notice where Flint … I mean, the demon-eyed man, was when you left?”
Dikaios bobbed his head. “He entered a larger house, one of bricks and mortar. After that, my focus was on finding my way here. The moon is brighter now, but the marshes have few landmarks.”
“When you explained our dilemma, did you mention my name?”
“To the first two men, yes. I hoped that they might know you and be more willing to hurry to our aid.”
Abraham waved a hand at the fire. “Acacia, can you lower the flames?”
She blew a whisper at their campfire. “Settle.” The fire crackled and died to a smoldering mass of embers.
“Are you trying to avoid Flint?” Elam asked.
Abraham glanced from side to side, then leaned toward him, lowering his voice. “It is not his presence I fear. We have no weapons save for the Oracle’s flames, but that will do little good against arrows shot from dark marshes.”