Inside the cave, an oil lamp flickered on the table, illuminating a tiny room. The old shepherd and his wife had gladly surrendered their only bed to the grievously wounded man. Though Mandra bowed to Seagood, it was Wart who chatted with the old couple.
Rudy, Mathias, and Seagood labored over Thomas, bathing his wounds and applying liberally the healing balm of Amity. Its bittersweet aroma filled the tiny house and brought encouragement to those in the outer room. The house was a cave, and the bedroom was separated from the main room by only a single woolen blanket.
“So you see,” Wart was explaining, “the silent man is Lord Hesketh, prince of the Gray Lands.”
The couple sat in astonishment. “I had given up hope,” Mandra said. “I feared the king would not return in our day.”
“It’s like a dream,” Mandra’s wife whispered.
“The man my friends are trying to save is Master Thomas, Prince of Amity,” Wart announced proudly, bringing further astonishment to the old couple.
“Two kings in our humble house.” Mandra shook his head.
Just then, Rudy came from behind the curtain. His huge frame eased into a chair near the table. His eyes were dark and troubled. Weariness washed his features. “I’m afraid we’re going to lose him, Wart,” the big man said, his head sinking to his hands.
Mandra’s wife rubbed the big man’s shoulders and said to her husband, “Too bad the Lady of Healing is not here.”
“What’s this about a lady of healing?” Wart asked excitedly.
“The Ravenna,” the woman said, nodding. “It is said that she has healing power within her fingers.”
“Are you talking about the Ravenna of the Gray Lands?” Wart grew more excited. “Do you mean the Lady Helsa?”
The old couple cowered. “Do not speak her name so freely, young man,” Mandra said. “She is held in very high esteem here. Many are the tales of the Ravenna’s healing power. We do not know if they are true, but the stories are abundant among the shepherds we know.”
“Rudy.” Wart shook his friend’s shoulder. Rudy raised his head, tears in his eyes. He couldn’t understand how Wart communicated with this couple. He could hear the couple speaking, but their words meant nothing to him.
“Rudy!” Wart said excitedly. “These people believe there is a lady with healing in her fingers.”
“Oh, Wart,” Rudy interrupted. “Everyone believes some fool story.”
“No, Rudy,” Wart insisted. “They believe it is the Lady Helsa who has healing power.”
Rudy sat up straighter. “What?” he asked.
“That’s what they believe,” Wart insisted. “They wish she were here to help Master Thomas.”
Rudy leaped from the chair, nearly knocking the table over in his haste, and rushed behind the curtain. There was a muffled conversation in the bedroom.
Moments later, Seagood emerged from the room with Rudy in tow. Mandra and his wife bowed at Seagood’s appearance, but the men paid no heed. They rushed outside as Rudy shouted over his shoulder, “We are going to get the Lady Helsa.”
Wart looked at the bewildered couple kneeling on the floor. “Really, you do not need to bow to Seagood,” Wart said. “He doesn’t think of himself as royal.”
They heard the clatter of hooves outside, so they were surprised when Rudy came back through the door.
“What’s wrong?” Wart cried, for Rudy’s face was pale and distraught.
“He went alone,” Rudy managed to say. “He didn’t want me along. He’s never left me behind before.”
Mandra’s wife laid a gentle hand on Rudy’s arm. “You are too tired,” she said in her native tongue. The couple made a pallet near the fire, and soon Rudy was fast asleep.
Daylight rimmed the edge of the world in pastel blue as Seagood rode out of the ravine. He noted all the landmarks for his return and turned his mount west. He kept the pace easy as he collected his thoughts.
He remembered the crowds waving for both Helsa and himself, but there had been no cheering. The populace had remained silent, as had he and his sister. Wasn’t the true king supposed to free his people from their curse of silence? Seagood wondered. If he was the king, why hadn’t the curse disappeared?
I guess I’m just a soldier, Seagood thought. Even though I grew up in Stonewall under John Stafford of Amity, I have not been trained to rule a nation. I can lead men into battle, but I have never tried to guide them into a safer, more prosperous way of life. Levi and Helsa are doing quite well leading the Gray Lands. They do not need me.
Seagood had been away from his homeland too long. True, he had been raised by the ruler of Amity, but James, Thomas, and Philip had all been groomed to lead, while Seagood had chosen to withdraw from those lessons. He had not wanted to impose himself upon Amity, but now he was wishing he had sat in on some of those sessions. He might be feeling more confident now if he had.
What would happen if Thomas did recover—if, when he returned to the Gray Lands, he won the crowds over with his ability to speak, his wisdom, and his sophisticated manners? What if Helsa were to fall in love with Thomas? She was already considered the queen, and if she and Thomas married, that would make him the king.
Seagood shook himself. He didn’t like this feeling of jealously that had come worming its way into his heart. He loved Thomas and wanted what was best for him, and he also wanted to rule the Gray Lands himself.
Seagood was troubled by his thoughts. He forced himself to remember the distant details of his childhood: the terrifying days adrift at sea and the lonely days after his rescue. He’d lost his ability to speak while on ship with his father. Even after his rescue, he could not communicate with people. He’d felt wretched and alone. Many days he’d hoped his father or someone he knew would come to his rescue, but no one came. He’d tried to act tough, but he remembered how scared he really was. That was how it had been on the day John Stafford came to his room.
John Stafford had stood in his doorway and watched him for quite some time. He’d seemed friendly enough, but Seagood had remained indifferent. Finally, the big man had walked over and asked, “I say, lad, are you hoping someone will rescue their shipmate?”
Seagood had been startled to think that this man could read his thoughts. He had merely stared at John Stafford while two boys peeked around their father’s legs.
“Do you see that tower over there?” John had asked, pointing to a tower on the nearby fortress of Stonewall.
Seagood had nodded.
“That is a much better place from which to watch the sea. That’s where we live, so I should know. Why don’t you come home to live with us?” John had asked. “From there you can watch the sea as much as you like.”
Thomas had stepped from behind his father, offered his hand, and said, “I’d like another brother.”
James had stepped out and countered, “Yeah, Thomas wants another brother because he can’t whip me, and I’ll bet you can’t either.”
Seagood smiled. He had gone home with the Stafford’s and had grown to manhood in their home. The gracious Helen had raised him as one of her own.
But Amity would never be his. It belonged to Thomas or Philip. This wild, barren land was his home, and these were his people, his kingdom. But an ugly fear arose in his mind again. Would his people choose Thomas as their ruler?
Seagood felt wretched. Turning his thoughts toward heaven, he silently prayed, Heavenly Father, You have guided me all these years. You kept me safe upon the sea and brought me to Stafford House. By the strangest of events, You brought me to my own home and my sister once again. You have given me a kingdom. But now, would You have me yield my kingdom to Thomas? I want to be willing to do so! Restore the love I once had for my brother!
Tender memories flooded Seagood’s mind. During their rough-and-tumble play as children, Seagood could not remember James ever saying “I’m sorry,” but Thomas had always been offering his hand and asking, “Are you all right?”
Now Thomas was at death’s door, and Seagood wavered in the balance. His eyes burned with tears of shame. Turning west upon a dusty trail, he slapped the reigns of his mount and raced toward his home.
Helsa stood by her eastern window, studying the long shadows cast by the setting sun.
“Helsa.” The voice startled her. She had heard no one enter the room. Seeing her uncle Levi, her anxiety subsided.
“Do you expect your brother so soon?” the old gentleman asked.
Helsa looked away from his searching eyes.
“Nay, lass!” the old man said seriously. “Your brother embarked on a dangerous mission. His only hope is if the Almighty One opens a path for him.”
Helsa turned to her uncle with wide, frightened eyes.
Levi held up his hand. “Slow down, child. I said the Lord would have to open a door, and I believe He will.” Helsa relaxed a little, and he continued. “Besides, it is only the third day since they left, and they would barely have had time to ride to Endor and back, let alone look for their companion.”
Helsa breathed a deep sigh and looked out the window again.
“Will you sup with me?” her uncle asked.
Reluctantly, Helsa followed the old man from the room.
“Will there be anything else, dearie?” Helsa’s maid asked as she turned the bedding down and laid Helsa’s night things in order. She bustled about the room, straightening little things here and there to give purpose to her presence.
Helsa shook her head, but the maid appeared to have no intention of leaving.
“It’s no good!” the maid grumbled. “No good at all!”
Helsa stopped brushing her hair and turned to the old woman.
“I mean,” the woman continued, “your brother skipping off into the unknown.” She looked at Helsa and wagged her finger vigorously. “Bewitched, that was what he was. He should have stayed right here. Why, the king himself couldn’t have had a better welcome! But did he stay? Not for a minute!”
It had been this way for the last two nights. Helsa knew her elderly maid could go on for hours if she didn’t put a stop to it. She slipped over and embraced the old woman’s shoulders.
“Oh, dearie,” the old woman sobbed. “He shouldn’t have left you.”
Helsa gently steered the woman toward the door.
“But you waited and hoped so long, and I see your disappointment!”
They reached the doorway, and Helsa stooped to kiss the wrinkled cheek.
“I love you so much,” the old woman choked.
Helsa wrapped her arms about her maid, and they embraced for a long moment. Both women’s cheeks were damp when they finally parted.
“My lady!” a voice called urgently from the corridor.
Helsa stirred. It seemed only moments since her head had touched the pillow.
“Lady Helsa,” the voice persisted.
She wanted to shout “Go away,” but of course she couldn’t. Reluctantly she left the warmth of her bed and shivered when her feet hit the cold floor. The room was dark, save for one lamp burning very low upon the shelf.
“Lady Helsa,” the voice called again.
It sounded like her uncle’s messenger boy, but why would he come in the middle of the night? Fear shot though Helsa. Something must be terribly wrong!
Lifting the latch, she peered into the hallway. The messenger boy quickly turned his head and looked away. Helsa realized she had forgotten to slip into her robe. Clutching her gown about her, she touched the boy’s arm.
“My lady,” the boy announced into the hall, “the Lord Guardian asks you to come to the throne room at once. A guest awaits you!” He glanced discreetly at Helsa to see if she understood. She nodded, and he fled down the hallway.
Who can the guest be? she wondered. They close the gates at sundown and do not open them until morning’s light. Why would they open them at this late hour?
Anxiety mingled with expectation as she slipped into her dress and footwear. Her legs felt shaky as she stepped into the ancient corridor. There was no one about, so she nearly flew down the hallway. Outside the throne room, she stopped to calm herself and catch her breath.
Her fingers touched the latch as she looked up and down the hallway. She saw nothing out of place, no one stirring. The palace seemed to be asleep for the night, but her heart told her something very alive was on the other side of the door.
She lifted the latch and pushed the door aside. The room was far brighter than the hallway, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She could see two guards beside her uncle, and the old man wore an expression of deep concern upon his face.
Another figure moved at her arrival. She caught his movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she stopped short. Her brother had returned!
Rushing to him and holding him tight, she thought of the strange men who had accompanied him. Though their language had sounded somewhat different, she had understood every word they’d said. She did not know why they referred to her brother as Seagood when his given name was Hesketh, but none of that mattered while she held her brother in her arms.
“Children, children,” the old man pleaded after a long moment.
Dutifully, Helsa turned to face her uncle Levi, but she still clung to her brother, hardly daring to believe that he was really there. She looked first at her uncle and then back to her brother. She knew her uncle was speaking, but her heart was so full that she only caught snatches of what he said.
“Helsa …” Her eyes drifted toward her uncle. “Brother …” She glanced back to her brother. “He wants to ride back …” A shadow quenched the sunshine she felt in her soul. “ … go with him! What will you do?”
Fearful of losing her brother again so soon, she wrapped her arms tightly about Hesketh’s broad chest and clung to him in desperation. She would not lose him again.
“Child,” the old man said sternly but with no trace of anger. “I don’t think you heard a single word I said.”
His gentle rebuke stung her, and though she continued to cling to her brother, she tried to concentrate on her uncle’s words.
“Helsa, your brother’s mission has been successful, but now he needs your help. A man is dying, and an old woman has suggested that you, the Lady of Gray Haven, might have healing in your fingertips. Your brother’s mission is so urgent that he wants you to return with him yet tonight. What will you do?” Levi asked.
Helsa’s mind was a blur. Healing in my fingertips? What does that mean? I’ve never healed anyone! Yet Hesketh wants me to ride with him to help a dying man? Bewildered, she looked at her brother.
The urgency written across his face spoke volumes to her heart. His eyes said, “Trust me. Time is short! Please come.”
She knew her brother could read the answer in her eyes.
She released her brother and fell before her uncle. Looking up, she nodded.
“Helsa!” the old man exclaimed. “Do you know what you are doing?”
She didn’t care. Her brother had asked her to go, and she would go.
“Your absence will leave the Gray Lands without a lord or a lady,” Levi complained. “People may lose heart. They look to you for hope, you know.”
Helsa lifted the tiny chain holding the key to the kingdom from around her neck. It had become the symbol of all her hopes and dreams. Gently prying open her uncle’s thick fingers, she carefully placed the tiny key in his palm.
“Helsa, you can’t!” he bellowed, but she was already on the move. Quickly she embraced her uncle and then her brother. Her eyes and countenance spoke clearly: Wait right here until I return. And with that, she fled from the room.
“Trickery and bedevilment,” Helsa’s maid stormed. “Why would your brother waltz in and steal you away?” Helsa paid little attention to her maid’s endless chatter as she frantically packed the things she thought she might need. She would be riding horseback tonight, no carriage. She would need to wear her riding habit.
“I won’t stand for it,” the old maid fumed. “Someone should lock him up or something.”
Healing, Helsa thought. I do have some medicines. Quickly she gathered several small items and packed them neatly into a satchel.
“Someone’s got to stop this nonsense,” the old woman wailed. “Hesketh has ridden all day. If you both must go, at least get some rest and ride at daylight.”
Rain, Helsa thought, grabbing her heavy riding cloak. It would serve as a night robe if she had any need of that. A smile crossed her lips at the thought of wearing that heavy old cloak over her silk nightie. She blushed. Reaching into the satchel, she removed her neatly folded silk nightgown. I’ll just stay dressed for the duration, she thought.
“Oh, my dearest child,” the old woman sobbed. “It is so late tonight. Must you really go?”
Helsa glanced in the mirror. She saw a riding habit, thick sweater, scarf, riding hat, and boots. Hat and boots, she thought. She crossed the room, opened a drawer, and snatched a light cloak and some sensible shoes.
She strode to the door. She didn’t look very feminine, but for the first time in a long time, she felt very alive.
Helsa stepped unannounced into the throne room. She was surprised to see a large group of men milling about in full armor.
Hesketh raised his hand, and all activity stopped. He alone had watched the side door for his sister’s return.
She blushed as all eyes turned to her. Gracefully she strode across the room. She nearly resembled one of the men, ready to ride, but without the armor.
“Lady Helsa,” her uncle began, a little flustered to see her in such attire. “You will not be riding alone. This portion of the guard will ride with you and Lord Hesketh to your destination. That is the only way I will allow you to leave tonight. You must promise to return as soon as this poor fellow can be moved. Is that understood?”
Helsa nodded, though her eyes never left her brother’s face. Hesketh looked himself again. Some of the weariness seemed to have fallen from his shoulders. His eyes approved her garb, so she felt more comfortable than she’d imagined she could.
The group turned to go.
“Lord Hesketh and Lady Helsa,” Levi called.
They turned at his summons.
“Do not fail to return to me,” Levi warned. “The kingdom rests upon your shoulders.”
They both bowed low and stepped from the room.
Though Mathias worked without ceasing, the fever inside Thomas refused to abate. Wart and the old couple carried water and helped all they could, as did Rudy when he finally woke from his restless sleep.
While Thomas tossed upon the bed in Mandra’s home, his spirit began a journey into a world of fear, darkness, and captivity. Thomas found himself in a very dark room. There is no need to fear the darkness, Thomas thought. I have survived darkness before, and this time I have the key. Wait! Where is my key?
Frantically he reached for the chain about his neck. The key was still there, resting warm against his chest. Lifting the key from around his neck, he gripped it firmly in his fist, and a sense of peace flooded his soul.
He was not sure if his eyes were adjusting to the dark or if the key was once again illuminating the room. How could such a small key unlock such strange, dark mysteries?
Struggling to rise, Thomas peered into the darkness. The floor all about him was covered with something that resembled shattered glass, though it was much more personal. It was as if he were in a place where human hopes and dreams lay shattered on the ground.
Holding his fist high above his head, the key shone with brilliance, revealing a path stretching out before him in the darkness. Without really knowing why, he began to walk slowly down the path. When he had traveled several paces, he noticed the sparkle of a thousand tiny lights reflecting about the room. Stopping to investigate, he saw the most beautiful jewel lying just beneath the broken glass.
He began to reach for the jewel, but something stayed his hand. The jagged glass would surely cut him to ribbons if he tried to take this jewel for his own. It was difficult to leave such a treasure, but something urged him forward.
Seek ye first the kingdom of God, a voice sounded in his mind.
Thomas pondered the words. What did they mean? Surely the path to heaven did not pass through such a place as this. If this were indeed the path to heaven, which way should he go? The path extended before him and behind.
He who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is not worthy of the kingdom of God. The familiar words again passed through his mind. All right, he resolved, he would not turn back. He would proceed forward, trusting that this was an adventure the Lord had set before him.
Thomas moved carefully, but still the jagged glass near the path occasionally caught and cut his legs. Shadows danced, and fear crept into his heart, but still Thomas moved forward.
The darkness suddenly came to life as wings brushed past him in a flurry of activity. “Bats,” Thomas breathed, trying to calm his nerves. “It was only bats.”
The path was long, and Thomas traveled slowly. Growing quite thirsty, he immediately heard the sound of water trickling into a pool somewhere ahead. Peering into the darkness, a happy thought filled his mind. If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink.
Sure enough, just ahead he spied water dripping into a dark pool. Surely the Lord has provided for me even in this dark place, Thomas reasoned. But just as Thomas reached toward the dark liquid, he spied something white lying to one side. Upon examination, he saw that it was a bone—not just one bone, but an entire skeleton lay near the pool of gathering fluid.
Thomas stepped back quickly. Is this water poisoned? he wondered. Though his thirst still raged, he turned back to the path.
He had not traveled far when he suddenly felt very hungry. To his surprise, around the next bend he saw a table set for two, with food upon the plates.
I am the bread of life, a voice spoke in his mind, but Thomas now wondered if this was the Lord’s provision or another snare. He lingered near the table. The food looked so tempting, but hadn’t Satan tempted Jesus to turn stones to bread when He had been hungry? Thomas remembered Jesus’s response: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.”
Thomas thought about the skeleton he had seen by the pool of water, and he leaned closer to examine the food. Suddenly he stepped away. This food was crawling with maggots. Turning, he hurried farther down the path.
When he rounded the next bend, he found that the path ended at a heavy wooden door. Had his journey come to an end? He seemed to be barred from moving forward. The words “knock, and the door will be open unto you” entered his mind.
Timidly he rapped on the door. Nothing happened, so he knocked louder. Still nothing happened, so he beat upon the door with all his strength.
When nothing happened, he turned and was surprised to see an old man dressed in white standing there. “What do you seek, my son?” the old gentleman asked.
Thomas struggled to find his voice and finally said, “I wish to pass through the door, sir.”
“I will gladly open the door, if you will do one small thing for me,” the old man said.
“And what is that, sir?” Thomas asked.
“Kneel and kiss my hand.”
Thomas stood still. The man was dressed all in white, and light reflected all about him. Was he the Master? Slowly Thomas eased to one knee. He was confused. This was like—and yet unlike—his expectations of the Master. But hadn’t the Lord said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man comes to the Father except through me”?
Thomas had been searching for the kingdom. He had trusted the Lord to lead him through this dark world. Why should he now be unsure? This man had offered to let him enter, so he must be the Lord.
“Master,” Thomas said, taking the offered hand. It felt hot to his touch. Thomas’s lips drew near the man’s fingers.
They will look upon him whom they have pierced and mourn, said a voice inside his head. Jesus had been hanged on a cross. Nails had been driven through his hands and feet, and a spear had been shoved into his side. Thomas searched the hand he held. There was no such wound.
“Imposter!” he cried, leaping to his feet. “You are none other than the devil, clothed as an angel of light. Be gone, Satan, for it is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord, and Him alone shall you serve!’”
In a flash of crimson, the man disappeared in a cloud of thick smoke.
Thomas shivered. The door still barred his path, and he was shaken by his near encounter. Hunger and thirst were nearly driving him crazy. How could he pass through the door?
Suddenly he remembered the key. Would it unlock the door?
Searching the door carefully with his hands, he located a small hole near the center of the massive wooden structure. Inserting the key, he found that it fit perfectly. Slowly Thomas turned the key, heard a satisfying click, and felt the door move on its hinges.
With an easy push, the door swung open before him, and Thomas stepped into the room beyond. All was silent. He could feel an ancient bondage filling the darkest recesses of the huge vault.
The floor was rough, but a path wound down a steep slope. Several times Thomas scraped his feet along the path, but no sound met his ears. The silence became oppressive.
Rounding a bend, Thomas was surprised to see a strange light. He stood many long moments, trying to decide what it was he saw. A silvery-gray surface, flat and smooth, shimmered in the darkness. Cautiously he crept closer, for the light seemed to have a definite edge.
Carefully Thomas bent to examine the surface from which light poured into the cavern—and a haggard face peered back at him. Leaping back, Thomas cried aloud, but he heard no sound. He tried to yell, and he felt air pass through his throat, but he heard nothing.
Terror crept over him. Am I deaf? he wondered. Is there a strange spell over this place that no sound can penetrate?
Slowly, Thomas recovered his senses. He stepped to the light again and realized that he was looking into water. It is an underground lake, he mused. The water was reflecting the light that shone from the key in his hand.
He looked once again into the water and saw the same haggard face. This time he nearly laughed at his reflection. I look terrible, he thought.
Thomas knelt and was about to dip his fingers into the water when a motion caught his eye from deep beneath the water’s surface. He leaned back, careful not to disturb the water, as ripples could blur his vision.
Thomas watched an entire company riding on horseback. He knew he must be seeing things, for the riders were under the water and made no sound whatsoever. They were small and distant, yet even as he watched, they moved ever closer.
When they had come within bowshot of where Thomas knelt, they reigned in. He could see them quite clearly. A man and a woman dressed in scarlet and purple were surrounded by many fully armed warriors. The entire party seemed to be a royal couple and their entourage. The woman’s dark hair fell gracefully around the pale, delicate features of her face. Though wearing robes of royalty, she sat astride her mount like the warriors with whom she rode. She wore a thin band of silver on her head, and though her hands were delicate and small, they held the reigns of her horse with authority. Alas, Thomas mused to himself. A woman has caught my eye, but she belongs to another. Thomas noted the grim expression of the man by the woman’s side.
The men who rode with the couple were much like their king: grim, hard-faced, and somehow familiar. The party seemed to be having a conversation, but there were no words. They spoke with their hands and their eyes. Thomas was sure he had witnessed that type of speech before, but where?
Thomas held his key higher to get a better view and then noticed something truly dreadful. A great winged creature hovered near the party, not really flying but rather hanging in the air. It was covered with dark hair, like feathers, on huge, outstretched wings, and its eyes shone like embers in its vile head.
When the lovely lady turned to speak, the vile creature wrapped its talons around her throat. Thomas leaped to his feet to shout a warning but to no avail. The horrid creature held the woman’s throat, but she seemed to take no notice. She merely closed her mouth and shook her head.
Thomas drew his sword, seething in rage. If only he could reach the party, he would make the vile creature pay for touching that beautiful woman. But he could not, for they were nothing more than characters in a dream. He dared not step into the water, lest ripples should break the spell and end the vision.
The king tried to speak, and the creature grabbed his throat. Thomas marveled that the man did not draw his blade and smite the beast asunder, for he was a worthy warrior; but he seemed to take no notice. Among the guard, no one saw the creature or perceived their master’s peril.
Thomas again tried to shout a warning, but no sound came from his mouth. Silently Thomas prayed, “Oh, Lord, I am powerless to change this situation. I cannot warn these people of their danger, nor can I effect their deliverance. Come to their aid, I beg You, in Jesus’s name.”
Even as he spoke, a distant light sped toward him. The glow from the key in his hand grew stronger, and the vision became clearer. One lone rider bore down upon the unsuspecting group. Thomas was aware of the rider’s dazzling appearance. His horse was as white as snow, and the crown upon his brow shone like the morning sun. The lake shimmered in the glow. This holy one’s eyes shone like beryl, and a sharp, two-edged sword issued from his mouth. Thomas knelt at the water’s edge.
The party on horseback rested for only a moment and then started again on their journey, taking no notice of the vile creature or the heavenly apparition that approached them.
“Stop!” Thomas yelled. “Your deliverance draws near!” But neither Thomas nor the group heard his warning.
The sinister creature did, however, notice the new arrival, and it turned to fight. A terrible battle took place. The creature fought with all its craft and zeal, striking with its deadly talons, only to be rebuffed at every turn. The two engaged their full strength, but suddenly the beast was hurled toward the surface of the water.
A terrifying shriek filled the cavern as the surface of the water exploded into a boiling cauldron. Steam smote Thomas on the shore, and for a brief instant, he witnessed the beast and rider strike blows on the lake’s surface. In a blinding flash, the white rider was gone, and the cavern became dark and foreboding.
All was silent, and then Thomas thought he heard the soft hiss of a serpent gliding across the water. A tremor ran through his body. “What are you doing in my realm?” whispered a voice filled with hatred.
Thomas spoke, and now his voice echoed across the water. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Silence,” the beast answered. “It was you who called for the white rider. You will pay for your interference.” Lightning flashed in the darkness, and Thomas dived behind a stone. Thunder roared, shattering the silence into a thousand splinters. Thomas cowered behind the rock, shivering with fright.
“Come out and fight,” the beast roared.
A strange strength stirred within Thomas. He crept from behind the rock and faced the beast. “You come with fear and bondage, but I come in the name of Jesus Christ!” Thomas shouted.
A horrible scream rent the darkness, echoing from corner to corner of the cavern, and the lake foamed in violent frenzy. Scalding water boiled upon the shore, but Thomas held his ground. The light in Thomas’s hand grew and illuminated the beast as it raced across the water to engage him in battle.
With a sure grip on his sword, Thomas held the key before him like a shield. A bolt of fire came hurtling toward him. He staggered when the fire struck, and when he regained his balance, the beast was upon him.
The attack was more sudden and ferocious than anything Thomas had ever known. In one swift blow, the beast hurled Thomas to the ground. He rolled quickly to one side as a fiery dart smote the earth where he had been. Flapping its enormous wings, the beast filled the cavern with blinding dust from the ancient floor.
Thomas closed his eyes for an instant, and in that moment the beast struck with its deadly talons. Thomas felt them rip across his body. “Help me, Lord,” he cried.
The monster leaped into the air, determined to crush his adversary with one final blow.
With strength beyond his own, Thomas held the blade aloft in his hand. Gloating in its victory, the creature did not notice Thomas’s blade, and he came crashing down upon its razor-sharp point.
Thomas lay beneath the vanquished monster. He could not move. “Help me!” he whispered, but his voice was lost in the silent cavern. Hope faltered, and his life lingered in the balance.
Suddenly he heard someone whisper “My lord,” and the sound was as sweet and pure as a mountain stream awakening from a long winter’s sleep.
Seagood, Helsa, and the party had ridden almost nonstop, and it was growing dark as they entered Mandra’s courtyard. They had stopped only for brief intervals along the way. Helsa was good in the saddle, but today she had ridden with men accustomed to that lifestyle. When she slid from her horse, her bones ached, and she felt exhausted, yet she entered the shepherd’s cave with anticipation and bated breath.
“Seagood!” Rudy shouted, rushing from the curtained bedroom at the sound of their arrival. Mandra and his wife bowed low to the Lord and the Lady.
Weary as they were from the ride, Seagood studied Rudy and asked with his eyes the question that had haunted him throughout his long journey. Is Thomas alive?
“Barely,” Rudy said. “Mathias has not left his side. Thomas is delirious. He babbles nonsense and will take no water. His fever rages, and we cannot keep him cool.”
Seagood dampened a cloth in the water basin and slipped behind the curtain that separated Thomas from the main room. Unsure what else to do, Helsa followed.
Thomas was pallid and still, and Helsa gasped when she saw him. She thought they had come too late. She sank to the floor, and tears filled her eyes. Before she realized what she was doing, she whispered, “My lord!”
The room grew silent. Seagood stared around the room. He knew that neither he nor his sister could speak. In fact, since the curse, very few in the Gray Lands could speak, but he’d just heard someone whisper, and he was sure it hadn’t been Rudy or Mathias. Turning to his sister, he whispered, “Helsa!” A look of incredulity spread across his face. “You … you can talk! I can talk!” he said more boldly. “Dear heavenly Father!” Seagood sank to his knees and raised his hands in prayer. “I thank You, Lord! You have lifted the curse from my people!” He turned to where Thomas lay. “This must be the man foretold by the prophets.”
Slowly Seagood rose from his knees and addressed everyone in the room. “The prophets foretold that the curse would be lifted with the coming of the king. That did not happen when I came to the Gray Lands, but now that Thomas is here …” He studied every face in the room. Pointing to where Thomas lay, he said, “I tell you, the king has come!”
Suddenly there was shouting outside, and Seagood, Rudy, and Mathias rushed out to investigate. Wart and the old couple went as far as the door, leaving Helsa alone with Thomas.
Helsa laid her cheek upon Thomas’s fevered hand. Her tears washed through his fingers. “Oh, my king,” she sobbed. “You have removed my reproach. Do not leave me now.”
Thomas’s fever broke suddenly, and he struggled to move. His breath came in great, ragged gasps. Fearing that Thomas had entered the throes of death, Helsa withdrew. Thomas opened his eyes and stared in disbelief, for before him stood the beautiful Lady of the Lake.