Enoch's Ghost (27 page)
I cast aside the devil’s chains!
Pulling back from the shield, Naamah stripped off the cloak, revealing a dazzling gown—a dress as white as the brightest stars. The flowers in her garland multiplied, the blossoms doubling in size, whiter than ever. She lifted her hands to the sky and twirled in a slow pirouette, but this time no song came out as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. She just laughed and laughed.
Elam lowered his hand and looked down at his own clothes. He, too, now wore white—a radiant tunic lapping over equally radiant breeches that were tied at the waist by a golden cord. He rubbed one of the tunic’s elbow-length sleeves. “It’s soft as silk!”
A low, wispy buzz, like a breeze chasing leaves on a path, sounded from the shield. The blue canvas parted in the center. A light split the two partitions, too bright to gaze upon.
Elam shielded his eyes and looked at Dikaios.
“You may enter,” the horse said. “You have been found true and thus dressed according to your character. I will watch from here for the storm and stand ready in case you need me.”
Elam bowed. “Thank you, noble horse.” He reached for Naamah’s hand. “For both of us.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Naamah curtsied. “I hope to see your master someday, face-to-face.” Rising again, she took Elam’s hand, and the two passed through the shining divide.
Chapter 17
Gabriel led Walter into a huge room inside the power plant’s office building. Light from a row of windows illuminated several rectangular control panels that stood on the floor, their tops reaching head-high. Lit up with flat-panel monitors and covered with dozens of switches and dials, the place looked like a computer geek’s dream come true.
“I saw someone come in here,” Gabriel said, “so I followed him.”
“An employee?”
“I don’t think so. He wore sandals and a calf-length tunic tied with a leather belt.”
Walter spotted a broom in one corner. “Head hippie in charge of maintenance?”
“Not likely.” Gabriel pointed at a widescreen display. “He looked at this one for quite a while, then he left through the other door. It has to be Mardon.”
Walter studied the screen. “Looks like some kind of map. It’s got an X-Y grid and lots of points.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Gabriel moved his finger along the grid. “There are ten bright points from here all the way around to here. I think the eleventh point, the middle one, represents this station, and the ten other stations kind of make a ring around it.”
Walter nodded toward the turbine room. “I saw energy beams shooting out from Chazaq’s fingers, so that accounts for ten stations, like he’s somehow connecting them all together. Think they’re making some kind of power grid of their own?”
“I’d bet on it.”
Walter pointed at a lever on the wall. “There’s an alarm shutoff.”
“I wonder why Mardon lets it blare like that.”
“Probably to keep people away. Who wants to go into a gazillion-megawatt power plant when something’s gone wrong?”
“Good point.” Gabriel grabbed the lever with both hands and pushed it down. The alarm died away.
Walter massaged one of his ears. “That’s better. It was about to drive me”
A new voice barged in. “Are you gentlemen interested in my project?”
Walter and Gabriel spun around. An oval-faced man wearing a long tunic stood at a waist-high control panel at the center of the room, his hands behind his back.
“Uh, yeah,” Walter said, edging away from the monitor. “I wanted to find out what was causing the blackouts, and when I found dead employees here, I decided to look around. Stumbling over dead bodies is kind of unusual, you know.”
“So you came here with a winged friend.” The man pushed his hand through his short white hair and walked toward them, arching his thin eyebrows. “That is also unusual, I think.”
“Yeah.” Walter laughed nervously. “Weird, isn’t it?” He pulled out Excalibur and held it in front of his body. “And this is a really weird sword. It disintegrates anyone I touch with it.”
The man halted. His eyes widened briefly, but his voice stayed calm. “Where did you get my father’s sword?”
“Your father’s?” Walter squinted at him. “This is Excalibur, King Arthur’s sword.”
“On the contrary, that is Chereb, the sword of Eden. Arthur obtained it from Morgan Le Faye, who took it from King Nimrod, my father. Since my father is dead and I am his heir, the sword rightfully belongs to me.”
Walter tightened his grip. “Well, unless it has your name on it or you have your father’s last will and testament to prove it, I think I’ll hang on to it for a while.”
“So, you’re Mardon,” Gabriel said. “You’re the master of the Nephilim.”
“You two are certainly knowledgeable for random curiosity seekers.” Mardon leaned toward him and narrowed his eyes. “I take it that you’re one of the anthrozils. I heard about their existence, but you are the first I have seen. Who are your parents?”
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I’ll keep that to myself, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Mardon said, waving his hand. “It was just small talk, really. I was hoping to pass the time while I wait for my tower to be completed.”
“Your tower?” Walter asked. “What tower?”
Mardon folded his hands behind his back again and began a slow pace in front of Walter and Gabriel. “To quote your winged friend, I think I’ll keep that to myself. Tooting my own horn about my accomplishments would be entertaining, to be sure, but letting you know what my plans are would be foolhardy. Although it is not the two of you I fear, I see no reason for me to crow about what my giants are doing.”
“No fear, huh?” Walter waved the sword from side to side. “Have you ever seen Excalibur operate?”
“Long before you were born, young man.” Mardon backed away several steps and withdrew a dagger from underneath his tunic. “If you try to attack me with the blade from Excalibur, as you call it, I will merely run and hide in one of the many hallways in this edifice, which will put you at great risk should you seek me in dark places where I can ambush you.”
He nodded toward the computer displays. “If you smash my equipment, the destruction will only serve to ruin data output. It will do nothing to the actual power infrastructure my giants are creating. If you were to use the beam, which might not even work in this current hybrid dimension, you would learn that you are at the center of a vortex created by intense electromagnetic waves. The beam would be instantly absorbed by my friend up there atop the generator. You would merely be adding to my energy grid.” He put his dagger away and waved his hand at Walter. “Try it, if you wish. I will wait.”
Walter squeezed Excalibur’s hilt and summoned the beam, but the blade merely reflected the light from the windows. “Nothing’s happening,” Walter said, lowering the sword. “It looks like I’ll have to stop Chazaq the old-fashioned way.”
“Chazaq?” Mardon glanced out the window. “Oh, that’s not Chazaq. But I suppose they all look alike to you, don’t they? My little power grid is fairly local, not enough to collapse the national grid, so Chazaq traveled to a larger facility, and, in concert with a few of Morgan’s surviving accomplices in other cities, he made sure power would fail throughout the country. You see, widespread panic keeps the authorities too busy to find my tower, and he is the only one intelligent enough for that mission.”
“Well, it was an enlightening experience talking to you,” Gabriel said with a slight bow, “but we really have to go.”
“I understand. You have to warn your friends and bring them here to try to stop me.” Mardon wiggled his fingers at them. “Run along, then.”
Walter shot a sideways glance at Gabriel. “That was too easy.”
“Yeah. Something’s not right.”
“Gentlemen,” Mardon said, “I have no power to keep you here. You have a sword, and my giant is occupied for a while. If you wish to wait for Chazaq’s return, by all means, do so. Then, I will be able to dispose of you at will.”
“No, thanks.” Gabriel laid a hand on Walter’s back, and the two hustled to the turbine room, then up the elevator to the service road entrance, staying quiet while the roar of river water drowned out every other sound.
When they arrived at the guard station, Walter looked in on the dead guard, still propped against the wall. He eyed a radio hanging loosely on the man’s belt. Reaching into the broken window, he pushed the call button. “Can anyone hear me?”
He released the button and waited. Nothing. Not even static. Sighing, he backed away from the window. “We’re getting nowhere fast.”
Gabriel fanned out his wings and leaned against the guardhouse. “Well, we got some information out of Mardon. We know he’s creating some kind of tower from the electromagnetic vortex, Chazaq’s doing something sinister to keep the rest of the country in chaos, and someone or something has the power to stop Mardon’s plans.”
“Because he said we weren’t the ones he feared, meaning that he probably feared someone else.”
Gabriel pointed at Walter. “Bingo!”
Walter turned to the highway and scanned the wet, vacant pavement. “There’s only one person I know who’s smart enough to figure it all out.”
Gabriel nodded. “Sapphira.”
“Ashley,” Walter said at exactly the same time.
Timothy felt Angel’s gentle tug on his elbow pulling him into the brilliant light. Even within his shielding jacket, it seemed to be as bright as day. As he ventured farther in, his companion brushed against his ear.
Always follow the light,
it whispered directly into his mind.
Darkness is the way of death and the shelter of those who fear the light.
Timothy didn’t really know how to speak to the companion, so he tried directing a thought toward it.
Am I giving in to darkness by covering my head?
Indeed not. A time will come when you will see all glories unveiled. For now, you must behold heavenly glory with shielded eyes.
The hand lifted from his elbow and guided his fingers to the side wall. “I have to go back a little ways,” Angel said. “I will wait for you there.”
He imagined her walking away, her head bowed and her airy pantaloons swaying as she escaped the blinding blast. The light was still working its magic. His love for her—a pure, holy love—overflowed, bringing tears to his eyes.
The light blazed brighter and brighter. Even with his eyes clenched shut, they tingled and burned. He turned around and walked backwards, dragging his fingertips along the wall. Even then, the light overwhelmed his senses. How could he go on? It would only get worse.
As he continued to back into the tunnel, the overwhelming sense of love seemed to transform. Love was still abundant, but something else was added—a presence of grandeur, a bigness that towered over him … no, that enveloped him, embracing arms so huge their owner had to be ten times the size of the Nephilim of old. What was it? Pure otherness? A being incomparable? Now barely able to move, Timothy pulled off his shoes and socks and laid them on the ground. This was the answer to the mystery. This path to Heaven was surely holy ground.
Finally, he bumped into something, a flexible wall of some kind that gave a little, then pushed back. He halted and felt the barrier, smooth and tactile, like a rubber membrane.
Gritting his teeth, he turned to face it and called out, “Is the Oracle of Fire here?”
“I am here,” a female voice replied. The voice seemed light and happy, like a songbird in springtime.
“I have come at the bidding of Abraham to ask about Enoch’s hymn, the prophecy concerning this land.”
“You have done well to come. I have been waiting for you.”
Timothy pointed at himself. “Does that mean I am the man in the prophecy?”
“You are,” came the gentle reply.
“What must I do?”
“Gaze into the oracle. I will reveal the truths you will need in order to bring about what God has planned for this world.”
Timothy grimaced. How could he possibly remove the shield and open his eyes? The light would burn the balls right out of their sockets!
His companion nestled closer to his ear.
You have come this far. Will you turn back now? Will you return to Abraham and Angel without an answer?
He shook his head.
You’re right. I’d feel like a fool for the rest of my life.
Slowly unzipping his jacket, he slid it down to his shoulders. Fresh, sweet-smelling air wafted across his skin. Then, bracing himself, he opened his eyes.
Instead of scorching pain, the glorious light bathed his eyes with comfort. The wall ahead of him looked like pure crystal, a flexible diamond that undulated as though a breeze played across its surface. Just beyond it, a girl stood in a hooded cloak of royal blue, opened at the front to reveal a brilliant white gown. She lowered her hood, allowing her long snowy hair to flow in the heavenly wind.
Timothy’s jaw slackened. Those eyes! Such sparkling blue eyes! The most perfect pair of sapphires in the entire world, gleaming in the radiance of her abode, appearing to laugh as she smiled.
“You seem surprised, Timothy Autarkeia.”
“I … uh …” He forced his jaw closed and licked his lips. “I am surprised. I did not expect to see an angel, especially one who knows my name.”
“And your former name, Makaidos, king of the dragons. Our heavenly father knows all your names, and he loves you whether you are in dragon or human form.”
The wind that played on her hair pushed toward him, kissing his cheeks and warming his body from head to toe. Heat rushed into his ears. Tears flooded his eyes. Swallowing hard, he tried to speak, but his breath seemed sucked away. “I’m … not worthy. I’m only …” He couldn’t go on. He just dropped to his knees and wept. As his body heaved, his companion caressed his cheek, whispering,
God is love …God is love.
After a moment or two, he gazed at the lovely girl again. Staying on his knees and taking in a deep draught of the gentle wind, his throat loosened and strength flowed through every muscle. “I have been anointed by your holy breath, and the touch has invigorated me.”
“It is not my breath,” she said. “It is God’s breath, his empowering inspiration. Our father has endowed you with the ability to carry out a task that would otherwise be impossible. He finds pleasure in using mortal vessels to bring about eternal purposes.”
Timothy wrung his hands together, trembling. “What must I do now?”
“The prophecy mentions two hearts—your two daughters.” She spread her arm toward a scene behind her. “Gaze upon them now and restore your memory.”
The wind stiffened, ruffling his hair and warping the crystal barrier. Thinning out like a diffusing mist, the lovely oracle faded away. Gray skies replaced the darker backdrop, framing the head and neck of a tawny dragon in midflight.
“I see only an odd imprint every once in a while,” the dragon said, “as if someone has intentionally scarred the ground.”
A voice called out from somewhere unseen. “Follow it, Roxil!”
Timothy snatched a gulp of air. “Roxil!”
The dragon extended its wings and flew just above the treetops. “Easily done. The marks are quite consistent.”
Timothy’s heart pounded. “My daughter,” he said, now louder than a whisper.
Flames shot toward Timothy, splashing against the inside of the barrier. The edges of the scene caught on fire and burned toward the middle, revealing another scene behind it, a close-up of a pale and haggard young lady. A strong breeze whipped her hair, and she held on to a red-headed girl seated in front of her.
