Chapter 11
Ashley marched into a field of grass, her arms stiff at her sides and her fists tight. Walter followed a few paces behind, looking back at the village before focusing on Ashley again. Since she was in her mad-at-the-world posture, it was best to stay quiet. They had already searched for her mother back at the spot they had last seen her. Now the dragon launching field was the only place they knew to look. At least this was the only option the villagers would suggest.
When Ashley reached a point about a hundred feet into the field, she looked up into the sky and called out, “Mother! Where are you?”
Walter cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Thigocia! The meeting’s over! We have some information!”
“Information?” Ashley repeated. “You call what just happened ‘information’?” She reached into her hair and grabbed two fistfuls. “Ohhh! Those people practically drove me crazy! I wonder how they even dress themselves without consulting ‘the Prophet’!”
Walter stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I can’t say I blame them. We’re strangers. We wear odd clothes. We brought a talking dragon. Why should they tell us what they know about their garden?”
Ashley let out a huff and flapped her arms at her sides. “I know. I know. It’s just that it’s life or death. Abigail is missing, and now so’s my mother. If either one needs healing, I can help. But I can’t heal what I can’t see.”
Walter reached back to his scabbard and touched Excalibur’s hilt. “I guess I should test the beam. It didn’t always work in Hades.”
“Right. We might need it for healing and as a weapon.”
Walter withdrew Excalibur and lifted it toward the sky. As he gazed at its point, something dark appeared close to the horizon, flying erratically. “Is that a dragon?” he asked, aiming the sword at it.
Ashley stood on tiptoes. “I think so, but it’s darker, maybe even black. It isn’t my mother.”
They watched the winged form draw closer and closer. Soon three riders took shape, one high on the neck and two in seats strapped to the dragon’s back. They circled once, then, as Walter and Ashley backed toward the edge of the field, the dragon, purple and smaller than Thigocia, landed in a flurry of wings and churning legs.
As soon as the dragon lowered its head, the passenger on its neck, a black boy with bright eyes and a wide smile, scampered down the stairway and hurried toward the village. “I’ll run for help!” he called without turning back.
A woman and a teenaged boy began to dismount, both half staggering.
Walter rushed over and extended a hand toward each of them. They gladly accepted his help as they stepped off the dragon’s neck. The boy looked like death warmed over. With blood oozing down his cheek and fingers, and a nasty laceration showing through a rip on the back of his shirt, he had to have been the loser in a fight with a bear … or worse.
Stifling a yawn, the woman curtsied. “Welcome, stranger. I am Angel. The boy who ran into the village is my son, Candle. You must be from a distant village, for I do not recognize you.”
“Very distant,” Walter said, “but it’s kind of hard to explain. We—”
“Walter!” Ashley marched straight to the boy and touched his wounded cheek. “It’s Elam!”
“Oh, yeah!” Walter patted his back, careful to avoid the slice in his shirt. “Sorry. I only saw you once when that giant lassoed Heaven, and you don’t exactly look yourself now.”
“It’s okay.” Elam smiled, but his weariness showed through in his sagging shoulders. “Where’s Sapphira?”
Ashley massaged his wound lightly. “She’ll be coming later. At least, we hope she will, and with more helpers.”
Elam’s head sank. “I hope so, too.” Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he laid his fingers over Ashley’s. “What did you do?”
Ashley pulled her hand back. “Does it feel better?”
“Yeah. A lot.” He dabbed the wound, now smaller and oozing less blood. “The cut’s still there, but the sting is gone.”
“What happened to you?” Walter asked Elam. “Were you in a fight?”
“Just some big muskrats and a sadistic guy with a spear, but that can wait. Acacia, Dikaios, and Abraham are missing, so we came here to consult Enoch.”
“My sister is missing, too,” Ashley said, “and the people here said someone named ‘the Prophet’ could ask Enoch where she is. But why can’t we ask him ourselves? The people were pretty mysterious about it, something about talking to an egg, but when I heard that, I just shut down. I felt like I was in the middle of a nightmare.”
Angel raised her fingers to her lips, hiding a smile. “The egg is Enoch’s Ghost, Father Abraham’s ovulum. Since he was not born here, it is the only companion he has.”
“Too much information!” Ashley laid her palms on the sides of her head. “My brain is about to choke. I need to—” She jerked her head upward. “I sense something … a strange call. … Distressed. … Urgent.”
Walter searched the sky. Flying low across the meadow, a dragon closed in on the field, its wings faltering as it descended.
Ashley pointed. “Mother’s coming!”
Thigocia beat her wings against the cool breeze, tossed back and forth as if unable to combat the crosswind. A blue cloak and white hair flowed behind her passenger, but the girl’s face was hidden. She was leaning her cheek against a spine, both arms clutching it loosely.
“The Oracle, Acacia, is riding,” Angel said as Thigocia extended her claws for a landing, “but she appears to be hurt.”
“Come on, Mother, you can do it!” Ashley angled her body, as if mentally guiding Thigocia to bank left to keep her white-haired passenger from falling. She landed heavily, her mangled wings beating hard as she tried to keep her balance. Acacia wobbled. With her eyes blinking wearily, she tipped over and tumbled down Thigocia’s side.
Elam lunged and caught her in his arms. The sudden load made him stagger backward, but Walter and Ashley braced him before he could fall. Elam let Acacia down to her feet slowly, making sure she could stand on her own.
Heaving for breath, Thigocia pulled in her wings and settled to the ground. Puffs of black smoke punctuated each labored word. “I found the girl … and her horse … surrounded by men with spears. I recognized her … caught her up … knocked the men out of the way. … The horse escaped … A man jabbed … a spear into me. My wings were insufficient to avoid it.” She rolled partway to the side, revealing a wide gash in her unprotected belly.
“Mother!” Ashley bolted to her and laid her hand on the wound. As she scooted on her knees to brace her body under her mother’s belly, sparkling blood oozed between her fingers and dripped to the ground. “Can you tell how bad it is?”
Thigocia wagged her head back and forth. “It must be bad. … I have no energy … to heal myself.” Her red pupils flashed, then faded. With a thump, her head dropped to the ground.
“Walter!” Ashley yelled. “Light up the sword!”
“Stand back, everyone!” Walter drew out Excalibur and lifted it high. He concentrated on the blade, sending the usual mental energy, but it merely glinted in the sunlight. Letting out a loud groan, he shook the sword. “It’s not working!”
Ashley pushed the sides of the wound together, but blood continued to flow. “What can we do? My touch isn’t helping!”
“Another energy source.” Walter pointed the sword at Acacia. “Can you whip up a fire like your sister can?”
“When I am healthy.” Acacia gave him a weary nod. “I will try.”
Ashley waved frantically. “Come over here and wrap your arms around me.”
Taking wobbly steps, Acacia obeyed. She draped her body over Ashley’s kneeling form and reached both arms around her. “Like this?”
“Yes. Now turn on your fire. Just a little at first. I don’t know how it’s going to affect me.”
“A little might be all I can manage.” Acacia took in a slow breath, then let it out in a whisper. “Give me light.”
Starting at her hands, a rippling fire spread along her arms, then across her body. The flames seemed weak, no more than a half inch high, but they soon covered Acacia’s dress and cloak, as well as her dirty face and legs.
As the flames spread over Ashley’s clothes, she gasped. Her eyes opened wide. Heaving and exhaling in rapid bursts as the fire coated her body, her face tensed. Her hand pressed tighter against her mother’s wound. After a few seconds, a weak white light emanated from her eyes. She moved her hand out of the way and rotated her head to shift the light to the deep gash.
Acacia groaned but said nothing. The flames flickered. No longer covering her feet, the line of fire receded up her legs and faded from her face.
Ashley’s eyebeams coated the wound. The blood sizzled and hardened to black ash. Slowly, ever so slowly, a scab eased over the cut. Ashley’s legs jerked. Her entire body trembled, shaking Acacia as well, but she kept her eyebeams in place.
Finally, with a slight popping sound, her beams blinked off. She pushed away from her mother, and with Acacia still hanging on, she toppled to the side. The flames died away as the two bodies sprawled across the ground.
In a flash, Walter and Elam were at their side. Walter slid his hands under Ashley’s back, while Elam dropped to his seat and pulled Acacia into his arms.
As Elam brushed Acacia’s hair back from her face, she gave him a weak smile. “I think she’s okay,” he called.
Walter gritted his teeth. “Ashley’s still smoking!”
Thigocia opened her eyes and tried to lift her head. “Move her into the clear where the breeze will cool her.”
When he had pulled Ashley well away, Walter laid her on her back and began fanning her face. With her eyes loosely closed, she wheezed through half-second shallow breaths.
“Anyone have any water?” he asked, turning toward Angel.
Angel waved at a group of four women who had just stepped onto the field, led by Candle. “Birdsong! Greenleaf!” Angel shouted as she knelt at Ashley’s side. “Fill a tub from the spring! Hurry! I will meet you at your hut.”
Two women turned and ran back to the village, while the other two hustled to join Angel. With curiosity-filled eyes they bent over and looked on.
“I have heard of such fever,” Angel said, “but only among the marsh people.” She looked up at the new arrivals. “Carry her to the tub. Remove her clothes and cool her with wet cloths before setting her in the bath. We don’t want to shock her.”
One woman picked up Ashley’s feet, while the other lifted her under her arms, and the two carried her toward the village.
Candle stayed behind and touched Angel’s hip. “The men are gathering a search party. May I go with them?”
“I will ask Valiant if you are old enough. For now, stay here. I might need you.”
“Yes, Mother.” Candle sat in the grass and stared at a glass egg rocking back and forth on his palm. “I will wait for your word.”
Angel laid her hand behind Walter’s head. “You should go with your Eve. She will probably awaken when she is put in the water, and if you are not there, she might be frightened. I will see to the others.”
Heat flowed into Walter’s face. What did she mean by “Eve”? As he tried to figure out how to answer, he glanced at Thigocia. She had raised her head and was now testing her legs. Elam and Acacia stood side by side watching her. They all seemed fine. “If I’m not there,” he finally said, “Ashley might be scared, but if I am there, and she’s … well …”
Angel set her cool fingers on Walter’s cheek. “This redness in your face. Is it shame?”
“Not really. Just embarrassed at the thought of being around when she’s … you know.”
“Uncovered?” she asked, cocking her head.
“Well … yeah.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Are you not her Adam?”
“Her Adam?”
She tapped her foot on the ground and looked down at Candle. “What was that word Timothy used?”
“Husband,” Candle said, rising to his feet. “And they say ‘wife’ instead of ‘Eve.’”
Angel raised a finger. “Oh, yes, her husband.”
Walter slid his hands into his pockets. “Well, no. Where I come from we don’t usually get married this young.”
“I see. So you are from another world.” She took Candle’s hand and walked toward Elam and Acacia. “I was wondering why you had no companion.”
Walter stayed near her side, just a step behind. What could she have meant by “companion”? Obviously she didn’t mean Ashley, but, if he asked, it would probably make the situation more confusing than ever.
When Angel reached the others, she massaged Thigocia’s neck. “Father Abraham has told me about talking dragons, but you are the first I have met. I have many questions, including why Ashley called you her mother, but if you truly are her mother, I’m sure you want us to see how she is faring before I satisfy my curiosity.”
“You have spoken well,” Thigocia said. “I do want to know about her recovery.” She narrowed her eyes to a pair of slits. “Your manner of address reminds me of a dear old friend, actually a relative of mine, but we can speak of that later, as well.”
Angel smiled. “I have no dragon relations, but I love every dragon I have ever met.” She walked over to Thigocia’s wing and raised a loose flap. “We have people who mend dragon wings. Since you are larger than our passenger dragons, I doubt that you can navigate our streets, so I will send a leather worker out to you. Maybe by then he can bring word of your daughter’s condition.”
A weak whinny sounded. Elam and Walter spun toward the call. A white horse plodded toward them, its head down and its coat striped with long red marks.
“Dikaios!” Elam ran to the horse and threw his arms around its neck. As he pulled back, he brushed Dikaios’s mane up over his withers, revealing a deep gash. “What happened?”
As the two walked toward the rest of the company, Dikaios spoke in a low voice. “After the dragon rescued Acacia, I had a violent disagreement with a large contingent of muskrats. While trying unsuccessfully to negotiate terms of peace, Flint’s men caught up and reintroduced me to their spears. Fortunately, they became preoccupied with the muskrats, allowing me to excuse myself. One of the muskrats tried to go for a ride on my back, and it took quite a while to discourage him. When I finally succeeded, I looked up in the sky and watched the dragon transfer Acacia from her claws to her back. I was so impressed, I decided to follow its path.”
Elam grinned and rubbed an uninjured part of Dikaios’s coat. “Did you work on that explanation all the way over here?”
“Yes.” Dikaios winked at him. “I thought I would mimic your penchant for understatement.”
Angel clapped her hands twice. “With the exception of Father Abraham, all are accounted for. Valiant will want to send the search party immediately, but even if they find Father Abraham from the air, they will not be able to rescue him.” She set a hand on Elam’s shoulder. “We need our warrior chief to devise a plan to bring him home.”
Elam took in a breath and exhaled loud and long. “Okay. Let’s go talk to Enoch’s Ghost.”
Standing atop the turbine next to Yereq and Gabriel, Sapphira whipped the fiery cyclone above her head into a frenzy. As she swirled her arms, she followed the sound of a buzzing airplane engine and spotted Merlin closing in directly in front of her. “Okay,” she called. “Boost me up.”
Yereq ducked below the fire and wrapped his huge hands around her waist. Suddenly, she flew upward until she was suspended a dozen feet above the turbine. Her head entered the eye of her firestorm for a moment, but as she continued waving her arms, it ascended and spun furiously around her hands.
She reached down with her bare feet, trying to locate his shoulders. When she finally planted them firmly, she called to him. “When I say ‘Now,’ I’m going to jump and cover all three of us with the flames. The portal column should stay in the air long enough for the plane to fly into it.”
“At your command,” Yereq said. “I will make sure you land gently.”
Gabriel called from below. “And I’ll be here to catch you, just in case.”
As the plane drew near, using her enhanced vision, she could see Billy and his father in the cockpit, both looking right at her through their windshield. She took a deep breath and held it. She had to time this just right. Once she lowered the portal column, she might not be able to see the plane at all.
She brought her arms down. The ring of fire descended, making a flaming cocoon around her body. The sound of whipping flames drowned out the buzzing propeller, and the plane faded into a miragelike apparition of swirling orange. Pulling her arms in at her sides, she closed her eyes, now relying on her memory of Merlin’s speed, and counted. Five … four … three … two … one … “Now!”
She leaped off Yereq’s shoulders. With Yereq’s hands again around her waist, she drifted down. Her body slid out of her cocoon, and the flames continued to spin above her. As soon as her feet touched down, she thrust her fiery hands upward again, trying to weave a connection to the cyclone. The airplane blasted into the flaming wall, its landing gear barely sweeping over their heads. Like a toy twisting in a tornado, Merlin spun with the cyclone. As orange sparks launched in arching splashes, the wings melted away, then the fuselage, until the airplane and the portal disappeared.
Sapphira clasped her hands together, snuffing her fire. She looked up at Yereq. He looked back at her. He reached down one of his meaty hands and took hers. “I am sure they are all right. They just went to the other world without us.”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “An airplane couldn’t possibly burn up that fast.”
“We’ll soon find out.” Sapphira pulled away from Yereq and raised her arms. “I’ll just make another portal and—”
“No!” A new voice shouted from somewhere below. “You must not.”
Sapphira lowered her hands and walked to the edge of the platform. A man waved from the turbine room floor. With her eyes still sharp, she had no trouble identifying the newcomer, a man she had recently seen from far away as he stood at Heaven’s Gate. “Enoch!”
As the plane raced toward the twisting fire, Billy grabbed the hand rests and tensed his muscles. “Just a few seconds! Everyone hang on!”
He looked back. Sirs Patrick and Barlow had copied his pose, but Shiloh sat comfortably, her hands loose on the rests. “This should be fun!” she said with a smile and a wink.
“Yeah, right.” Billy wheeled to the front. “As fun as a hot foot!”
His father gripped the control yoke, his knuckles white. “She jumped! I’m cutting the engine!”
As the propeller’s buzz died, Billy held his breath. The flames splashed against the windshield. The airplane jerked to the right, but then settled. Instead of bursting out on the other side or spinning in a fiery carnival ride, they seemed to float in a sea of orange. Suddenly, as if kicked from behind, they blasted out of the cone and into the clear.
“Restart!” Billy called.
His father revived the engine. The propeller whirled up to speed, and the plane coasted over the new scenery with ease.
Billy looked out the side window. The power plant, the dam, and the river had all disappeared. Now only a vast green meadow spread out below, dotted with lush trees and coated with a multi-colored blanket of wildflowers.
He pumped his fist. “Woo-hoo! We made it!”
His father flopped back in his seat and whispered, “Thank the Maker!”
“Praise the Lord!” Shiloh called from the back. She turned to her father. “It worked! You were right!”
“Yes, my prediction was accurate,” Sir Patrick said as he mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “But I must say, I had my doubts.”
Sir Barlow squeezed as far as he could into the cockpit. “Any sign of the white-haired lass and her friendly giant?”
Billy’s father turned the yoke. “We’re swinging back now to have a look.”
Billy leaned forward and scanned the ground, searching the colors for a telltale spot of white. As they descended, however, the greens, purples, reds, and yellows that swept past them underneath gave no hint of white, or the other obvious feature, a man nearly as big as their airplane.
After several passes of silent scanning, his father finally said, “No sign of them. We’ll have to land.”
As they descended, Billy looked at the GPS monitor. A warning light said that the receiver had lost contact with the satellites. He settled back in his seat and let out a long breath. They really were in another world.
Elam followed Angel into the humble abode, passing between two dragons painted on the exterior wall. Leaving the door open to allow light into the room, he stayed just a step behind her as she tiptoed forward.
She stopped for a moment, then dashed to the back of the hut and slapped her palms on a table. “Where is it? It was here last night!”
She dropped to her knees and searched the floor underneath. “It’s clear glass, the shape of an egg, and the size of a small cantaloupe.”
Elam crossed his arms and scanned the area, his gaze hopping from a blanket-covered cot at the right side of the room, to an oval throw rug next to the cot, to a solitary hardback chair close to the table, to a well-worn kneeling altar at the left. “I’ve seen one before. Red mist inside, right?”
She banged her head on the table, let out a yelp, then crawled out, her hand massaging her scalp. “Yes. That’s exactly right.” As she rose to her feet, she pointed at him. “You didn’t take it, did you?”
“Not me.” He raised his hands and backed away. “I haven’t seen one in years.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just so confused, I’m not thinking straight.”
“How about Flint? Or one of the shadow people?”
“It’s too big for the shadow people to carry. They can barely manage one of our companions. And as long as Flint’s holding Father Abraham, I don’t think he would risk leaving his prisoner.”
Angel scooted over to the cot and flipped up the thin, straw-stuffed mattress. While she looked through the blankets, Elam ran a finger along the table, making a line in the dust. Near the back, a round stand sat on the weathered wood. It, too, had made a slight path through the dust, as if someone had pushed it when taking the ovulum. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, something else came into view on the table. Was it writing?
He stepped to the side, allowing light to spill over the table. He stooped and looked at it again, this time at an angle. The writing became clear—For Sapphira.
Picking up the stand, he walked over to Angel. She flopped down on the cot and blew a shock of hair out of her eyes. Tears welled, sparkling in the light from the doorway. “I’m the last one who saw it,” she said, her voice breaking. “I came in here uninvited.”
He sat next to her and set his elbows on his thighs, propping the empty stand in his fingers. “Don’t worry. I know where it is.”
“You do? Where?”
He smiled, partially because of Angel’s cry of relief and partially because he knew why his old friend had taken the ovulum. “Enoch has it.”
She pointed at the floor. “Enoch walked right into this room?”
“Apparently so. He wrote a note for me in the dust on the table.”
“But why would he take it? We need his help so desperately! And why would he leave? He could have stayed and given us advice.”
Elam got up and reached for her hand. “Enoch’s ways are mysterious, but my guess is that he wants me to rely on what I have already learned, and he knows someone else needs the ovulum more than we do.”