The Second Jewel of Earth

By James W. Greenhalge

"So much collected wisdom
and still no answers!" observed a very familiar male voice behind
him. The hair on the back of his neck
rose. No, it couldn't be!style='mso-spacerun:yes'> That was yesterday in another reality.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He shivered involuntarily, hoping he was
wrong about the voice.

The traveling begins again!style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The Second Jewel of Earth follows the
continuing story of a solitary man swept up in a fantastic battle to save his
world. But is it really style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>his world?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Centaurs, trolls and animal-headed human
compromises inhabit this strange new reality, with malevolent enemies bent on
his destruction. And the pendant about
his neck glows with the presence of the First Jewel, a blood-red reminder that
the King he serves is more fearsome than his enemies.

Sequel to his popular novel, The
First Jewel of Earth, the author takes you on yet another journey to the
distant past, as the Traveler searches for the second jewel to his incredible
pendant. This series surveys Biblical
prophesy and ancient history, revealing the origins of a supernatural war whose
decisive battle is being fought today.
As you join in this adventure, you will never travel alone.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Come enjoy your journey!style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The Third Jewel of Earth is expected in
late 2004.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 11, 2003
• ISBN: 9781414014616

James W. Greenhalge

Even as a boy, your author has always had trouble staying fixed at one moment in time. While an overly active imagination is charming in a young child, a mature adult should behave better. Your author's interests flow easily from one topic to another…past, present and future. Fascination with the scientific method, the reality of faith, and a study of the law leads smoothly into the imagination of science fiction. A love of History and human culture compete with a sense of the mystical and the magical. His friends and family will be overjoyed about the re-publishing of this book; now, someone else can listen to his flights of fancy! A traveler at heart, your author is comfortable at home or on the road, in foreign countries or in a local coffee shop. A college graduate, an Army officer, an orator and Christian church leader, a college professor, a licensed attorney, and a prolific writer! And he loves computer-generated games! When some grounding in this reality is required, he is a private practice attorney in Grand Junction, Colorado. His loving wife, Mary, has traveled with him for more than forty-six years, and their son is also married, and has given them a wonderful daughter-in-law and three marvelous grandchildren, and a grand-dog. "If we begin with the premise that there is a design to this universe," says the author, "the truth of its construction is just waiting to be discovered. Life is a journey of discovery, and we are all travelers. I hope you can see yourself in the pages of this book. It was written with you in mind!"

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

He pushed his cup away.

Oversized books surrounded him in precarious piles, testimony to his towering frustration. The answers were simply not here! The Counselor had told him the next jewel was hidden somewhere in this reality, yet there were no clues, no guidance, no direction to his quest. He tapped on his yellow notepad absently with the tip of his pen, running his free hand through his uncombed hair. Pages of his hand-scrawled notes littered the table top.

Then his gaze fell upon the magical constellation of stones ensconced in the radiant silver-gold pendant hanging about his neck. Tangible evidence of thath invisible alternate reality running parallel to this existence. A mysterious symbol of his strange commission into this odyssey. Evidence that no one else could see-a symbol only in the other reality! He sighed deeply. The magnificent center stone was the size of a hen’s egg, now sapphire blue in the artificial lighting of the public library, capturing whatever light played across its flawless surface. Even the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to power the inner fire deep within the heart of the jewel. The heavy chain and white-gold setting of the pendant did not hope to contain this central jewel; the beautiful filigree merely held it in place, lest the jewel escape the very limits of this physical existence and return to the eternal void from which it sprang. He ran his fingers along the thick chain around his neck, recalling again the vivid memory of its wondrous arrival.

He opened the featureless black jewelry case sitting on the tabletop. Suddenly, his reality as he once knew it fell away. Even the timeless face of the Counselor faded into the void. If you can invest yourself in this quest, trusting in the character of the King, sight unseen, then the contents of this box belong to you. I can promise you the adventure of a lifetime.

Then he was free!

The world and everything in it disappeared from his view. The very light surrounding him became fluid-taking on a life of its own-gathering itself at the center of the universe. He reached toward it. The effortless flight through the featureless black void, released from every restriction of this physical reality. Flying-Soaring-Escaping. The breathtaking ascent toward that celestial beacon glimmering in the midnight expanse surrounding him. Joy! A rush of boundless joy! How he longed to recapture that moment!

The ominous loss of momentum.

His joyous flight crested far short of his goal. Panic took hold. He began to tumble away from the beckoning star overhead-the precipitous falling away into the abyss. Nothing ahead of him and everything left behind. Surprise-Shock-Alarm-Fear. Even now his shoulders shook involuntarily, so great was the horror of that awful moment. Falling away from everything, falling into emptiness. Falling! Falling! Despair!

All hope was fading. The retreating star threatened to wink out of existence into the featureless void. At that very moment, his fall was arrested above the pit of despair waiting to engulf him. With unfathomable mercy, this very chain and pendant reached out to him from that single eternal star above his head, chaining him to itself. There he hung. There he still hung! Blinking his weary eyes, his thoughts returned to the library.

The smaller jewel in the pendant’s sparkling constellation, volcanic red, seemed to draw energy from the blue stone and surged with its own living inner fire. What did the Counselor call it? Sophia? Wisdom. He had found that small clue during his searching through the ancient history books covering the table top. Sophia was the ancient Greek word for wisdom. Even so, by the time the ancient Greeks rose to power around 400 B.C., they were already writing commentaries on the wisdom of cultures far more ancient than their own. He rubbed his tired temples and craned his stiff neck. The timeline of human history was so long, the truth so difficult to find! The red stone was also called the First Jewel of Earth by the Counselor, a component in some incredible mechanism lost to humanity since the beginning of time, but there were no references to this strange enigma in all of his searching. Now he was seeking the second jewel-there were still six empty facets in his pendant.

The library closes in ten minutes, sir.

The woman’s voice was so close that it startled him out of his reverie. He bolted upright, dropping his pen. The pretty librarian looked down at him sympathetically.

We close in ten minutes, sir. Perhaps you can return to your search tomorrow? she added, helpfully.

Return to my search? stammered the startled Traveler. How could she know about his quest? Could she see his pendant?

Yes, responded the librarian, gesturing to his hand-written notes scattered across the desk top and the teetering book collection. A collection of translated Sumerian cuneiform writings. The Epic Poem of Gilgamesh. Plutarch. Aristotle. Socrates. Euripides. The Mystery of the Arkadians. The Upanishads. The Bhagavad-Gita. Lao Tsu. Hammurabi’s Code. The Book of the Dead. A history of the Old Kingdom of the Nile. Volumes of the Encyclopedia Judaica. So much history!

You are obviously researching some ancient history of personal interest to you? suggested the librarian.

She couldn’t see the pendant, realized the Traveler sadly. No mortal eye could see it! The Traveler shook his head wearily.

I need an anchor, a fixed point in time! muttered the dazed man, trying to explain himself. He stared at the book collection.

An anchor? The librarian shook her head, doubtfully. Perhaps tomorrow, in the naval section! She eyed the man suspiciously, unsure of his predicament. You can leave them here and not reshelve them, if you will be back tomorrow. With that, she glanced at the clock. My name is Ms. Merriam. If anyone asks, tell them I said it was okay to leave them here. She turned and headed off toward the next occupied study carrel, shaking her head.

Tomorrow? The Traveler repeated the last word to himself. If I will be back tomorrow. He shrugged—the word had no meaning for him. Yesterday had taken him over five months to live through, nearly killing him, and no one even noticed he was gone at the office. It was as though he had nodded off at his desk and awakened several months later, yet not a second of time had passed in his own world. Tomorrow. The incredible odyssey spent searching for the First Jewel of Earth had taken months in the mythological unreality opened up to him by the Counselor and this strange pendant, then suddenly that journey was over. He was back at his desk with no proof of the adventure. No medals, no scars, no sunburn-no one even missed him. No proof even to himself, except for the dazzling red stone now filling one of the seven facets in his pendant. How could he possibly believe in a timeless world running parallel to his own existence? Where would he be tomorrow? What would tomorrow have in store for him?

So much collected wisdom and still no answers! observed a very familiar male voice close behind him. The hair on the back of his neck rose. No, it couldn’t be! That was yesterday in another reality. He shivered involuntarily, hoping he was wrong about the voice.

I was just leaving, explained the Traveler abruptly, blinking his eyes and moving to gather up his notes, without directly addressing the speaker. The librarian said it would be all right if I just left these here, he added, gesturing toward the book collection. He paused, handling a thin black book on the translation of the Rosetta stone, a marvelous find in an Egyptian archeological dig in the late eighteenth century. That single stone tablet translated Egyptian hieroglyphics into ancient Greek. The ancient Greek was then translated into modern Greek by historians, modern Greek into English. Suddenly, a modern man could read the thoughts of the ancient Egyptian—a whole world rediscovered!

That’s what I need! I need a translation from one language to another, he said under his breath.

Asked and answered, a very long time ago!

The Traveler’s eyes widened! He stared at the table top before him, unable to turn and face the speaker. Asked and answered? No! That was another time and place! He was never part of this reality. His reality! A cold fear gripped his heart.

They found him.

A tall young man came out from among the assembled book racks, thumbing through the opening pages of some ancient leather-bound text he had found there, and sat down opposite him at the table. The stranger could have been twenty or ten thousand years old, the Traveler could never tell his real age. These creatures were timeless.

Yad’el? gasped the Traveler.

Also asked and answered! Have you found what you are looking for?

You’re not supposed to be here. This is the future.

The companion looked about him with a sincerely puzzled expression, examining the surroundings carefully before responding. Time still runs on, Traveler. I can be anywhere you are!

No! I mean, you are just a figment of my imagination, part of that other reality, argued the Traveler, unsure of his own reasoning. He licked his lips and scratched his eyebrow nervously. You are part of another world.

Said not! The young man sitting across the table slowly shook his head. No one ever said it was another world. The Counselor said you were returning home and so you did, and so you are, and so you shall. Only the time and location have changed.

Only the time and location! shouted the Traveler tensely, leaning forward across the table. Another library patron shushed him from an adjacent study carrel. He lowered his voice and leaned further toward his companion. Only the time! I almost died in that other reality of yours. Tell me that wasn’t real! It couldn’t be! That ancient past you showed me had nothing to do with this time and place. Did it? Tell me what it all means!

His voice broke with tension and he began to sob, surprised at his own ragged emotions. The pressure of the last twenty-four hours, or was it six months, was telling on him. Too much coffee and too little sleep. A desperate search for some sane explanation to yesterday’s insanity. He dropped back into his chair, staring at the peaceful face before him. He recalled the awful battle with Ba’yel the Terrible that ended his last adventure and how this calm young man before him had become something…something…

You fought Ba’yel! You became something more.

Yes, Traveler, affirmed Yad’el. It all happened, just as you remember it. Not as some alternate reality, some dreamlike metaphor, or some mere idle speculation on your part; it is part of the history of your world.

Yad’el, I’ve read all the histories I could find, retorted the Traveler, pushing a copy of an ancient text toward the mysterious creature sitting across from him. It never happened. No one reports it that way!

No one? responded Yad’el calmly, gesturing toward the volume being pushed across the table without touching it. That particular book is a product of the distorted timeline. All of them are! The events you saw did happen and you were part of it. He turned several more pages in the ancient treatise that he had brought to the table. Finding the passage he desired, Yad’el rotated the book in his hands and placed it solemnly before the Traveler.

The man swallowed hard.

History could not have unfolded the way his companions said it did. It was so marvelous and yet so ominous. Cosmic forces vying for control of human history-their conflict hidden from human viewing-human agents recruited to do their bidding. It was the plot of some fanciful science fiction novel, not the established record of human history. Surely, some historian would know! It could not remain a secret forever. He wanted to resist this dreadful explanation. Yet, his eyes were drawn to the open page. He had to know the truth!

An ancient story came to life.

The city was doomed. Given over to their terrible iniquity, the wrathful god of the universe was set upon its destruction. Two mysterious travelers headed toward the city in the middle of the night to fulfill some unspoken mission, while an old man in the countryside nearby bargained for the city’s survival with their commander. After all, his nephew and family were still living there, argued the old man. He seemed to know the Leader’s anger well enough and he certainly knew the depravity of the city, but his heart struggled for some bargain that might save those doomed souls from the impending retribution.

Suppose ten are found there? pleaded the old man, wringing his hands in dread. Sweat beaded his brow and he pursed his lips in consternation.

And the Leader said, I will not destroy the city on account of the ten. He turned away from the old man and a tear creased his cheek. He already knew the final count for the city.

The Traveler stopped reading, his own eyes filling with tears.

This isn’t history, Yad’el! he pleaded. It’s just mythology! A Metaphor! An Allegory! There is no historical evidence that the condemned city ever existed.

True! And you know why! You have stood on the crest of the central hilltop watching the red sun set on the city’s final day. You experienced the storm of its destruction. You watched the city’s glory fade into ruin under the caustic alkaline rain that followed. There were no bodies left behind, Traveler—no artifacts, no memorials. No historical evidence! That city of the dead would never be rebuilt and only barely remembered. You were there!

It was remembered, admitted the Traveler wearily, summarizing his own research. He pointed to the adjacent stack of books. The Assyrians told the same story in their ancient texts and the Arabs incorporated it into their own ancient mythology. It is even mentioned in the Torah and the Koran. The Hindu have a very similar story in the Bhagavad-Gita. But these are all just old religious allegories-not history books! He rubbed his eyes with the heels of both hands. How can I believe that alien forces were at work in this destruction? That Earth’s history is being deliberately reshaped to hide that central truth? With a final heartfelt sigh, he added, Why was I brought into this?

Asked and answered, responded Yad’el, gesturing toward the open book on the table. A witness was needed—a report was required from the human race. Your participation was no allegory! That question was asked and answered on the first day of your mission.

The Traveler stared at the strange creature sitting before him. Asked and answered? When?

You are a Seer, a Traveler and a Teller of Tales. It was in your original… job description! explained Yad’el, reminding the man of his first encounter with the Counselor. The strange recruiter had given him those titles of office when he placed the pendant about his neck. The despondent man shook his head in disbelief.

Yad’el tapped the ancient text. The Traveler focused on the designated passage.

"I will go down now, and see if they have done entirely according to its outcry, which has come to Me; and if not, I will know." The strange Leader left his human friend behind and headed toward the condemned city.

The ancient words came alive and burned in the Traveler’s eyes. "it’s outcry, which has come to Me." He couldn’t breathe.

Yad’el nodded, solemnly. The truth about Solon was already known to us, but the report was needed, an outcry from one of our human allies-a witness for the prosecution, using your modern vernacular. The enormity of this awful truth bore down on the man. You are the Seer and the Teller of this Tale. You are the unheralded conscience to a decadent world-the eye witness to its atrocities! The events all happened, Traveler, just as you remember it. You were there!

The Traveler continued reading. The two men who left the alien Leader, to go into the city searching for the old man’s nephew and his family?

Think back! We left you that night, remember? While you slept safely in Saleh, Latris and I went to the city and removed them from harm’s way. It was your wish, as well as Aravan’s. I warned them not to look back on the judgment coming upon the city, but the patriarch’s wife did not heed my warning. It was not for human eyes, Traveler! Her desire for the forbidden was her undoing!

The last cryptic sentence hung in the air between them.

The pert, officious librarian returned to the table, hesitating to interrupt their suspended conversation. These two strange, young men were silently staring at each other, separated by volumes of ancient history and one opened book.

Gentlemen? she inquired, politely. The library is closed. You will have to leave now.

The Traveler shook his head, as if waking from a dream, and began gathering up his notes. He avoided touching the ancient book Yad’el had brought to the table. It lay there in the middle of the table top—alien, alive and emanating power. Here was the cold, unvarnished truth written by the finger of some unseen god fighting ancient enemies for the control of the entire planet. The surrounding collection of ancient histories were suddenly reduced to poor speculations and intellectual dogma in light of this one ominous book. This single tome vibrated with the radiance of truth. It was frightening!

‘Will you be leaving this here?" asked the librarian, gesturing toward the table top.

The Traveler misunderstood her question. Would he be leaving the truth here? Opened, but unused! Yad’el stared at him, not responding to the librarian.

I will mark this table for return, ventured the librarian trying to be helpful, but perplexed by the strange reactions from these two peculiar patrons. She pursed her lips in consternation and pointed them toward the exit. You can come back tomorrow.

When is tomorrow? asked the Traveler, directing the question to his companion, ignoring the young woman standing over him. Will I be here tomorrow?

Do not be anxious about tomorrow, Traveler, responded the companion casually, rising from his chair. Today has enough trouble of its own.

Yes, well then, good night to both of you! concluded the librarian, clenching her teeth and hurrying away from them. She muttered something unintelligible under her breath as she moved away.

The Traveler rose slowly and followed after her.

Yad’el smiled broadly, once the humans had left the table. Asked and answered! He reached across the table top toward the mysterious volume still lying open to the passage about the death of the ancient city. Nodding his head, he leafed forward through several dozen pages of text and then left it open on a new page. He tapped the designated text, smiling to himself.

Yes, madam librarian, a very good night, indeed!

He rejoined the Traveler heading toward the revolving doors at the exit.

Where are we going? asked the Traveler. His head was down and his shoulders slumped forward. This was not the strapping young knight who left the Counselor’s chambers freshly dispatched on his second quest. This was the mortal man again, weighted down with his prospective place in eternity.

Asked and answered! responded Yad’el, surprised at the man’s fallen demeanor. Are you still serving the King?

I want to, Yad’el, you know how I want to, but this is all so ominous, so depressing. Thousands died in that city because of my report.

No, Traveler! They died because of their rebellion. Your report was necessary, but it caused nothing. There will be witnesses in every age, every moment in history, but you must not sit in the seat of judgment. That is not in your…job description. You are to be the witness, the conscience of humanity, but judgment rests with the King. It is not your burden!

My job is to find this second jewel, also lost since antiquity, part of some larger mystery that will be revealed at the proper time. The Traveler repeated his instructions, confirming his commission from the Counselor. The litany seemed to strengthen him. He breathed deeply.

You once told me there were centaurs in my reality, challenged the Traveler, suddenly recalling another disturbing fact from that other version of history. Everyone had been… changed, distorted, compromised. in that alternate timeline. I am here now and everything is still the same. And I am wearing the pendant this time! You said the pendant would change things."

Said not, Traveler, returned the companion, calmly. I said you had not worn the pendant in your reality, making you unable to see the centaurs. They still exist here, and you should be able to see them, but something has altered their appearance.

Changed? What has changed? When? Is it the enemy? There are thousands of years of history separating this world and the one you showed me yesterday.

Did you find any clues here? asked Yad’el, gesturing toward the accumulated wisdom of mankind neatly annotated and filed in the stacks around them.

The Traveler smiled wanly. How do you sort out all the allegories, speculations and errors while looking for true knowledge?

You start at the beginning, an anchor point in your history, answered the laconic companion, directing the man toward the revolving doors.

Yes, an anchor point! The man sighed, smiling a little more broadly this time. While his companions would never lie to him, they could leave so much unsaid. They moved in absolute assurance, never permitting doubts to cloud their decision-making. It was so unnatural, so inhuman. But then, these companions were not human.

Good night. The librarian met them at the door. See you tomorrow! she added by repetition, then immediately bit her lower lip, truly hoping she would not see these two men again.

She watched the two departing patrons. Both of them were somewhat odd, but when asked about that moment years later, she would only be able to describe the one tired and anguished young man. His traveling companion seemed to escape description.

All things are possible, madam librarian! returned the companion with a broad smile, as he gently pushed the man into the revolving door.

CHAPTER 2

I should have known!

The man stumbled blindly forward. But instead bruising his knees and the palms of his hands on the cold, gray concrete sidewalk leading from the library into the parking lot on a dark October night, he fell face down onto bright green, grassy turf. He was squinting into a bright mid-day sun in the middle of some fantastic mountain garden! The library, the cars, his notes, his whole reality were gone-gone like the revolving door.

Where are we? he exclaimed.

Asked and answered, responded Yad’el, helping the man to his feet. We are searching for an anchor.

The last time it began in a desert in the middle of nowhere, the first bizarre step into your Grimm’s fairy tale, quarreled the Traveler, trying to be both funny and sarcastic as he brushed himself off.

Yad’el scowled. Are you calling me a fairy this time? he asked coldly, the dreadful consuming fire beginning to smolder again within his deep brown eyes. The Traveler had forgotten the companion’s intolerance of cynicism and sarcasm. Those were human failings.

I am sorry, Yad’el. I only meant that the second reality seemed peopled with characters out of some fairy tale. You are clearly not a fairy!

The companion accepted the man’s sincere apology. That would have been even worse than a comparison to Cupid! warned Yad’el, reminding the Traveler of another mistake he had made once before in another place and time.

This isn’t the same desert, though, interjected the Traveler, abruptly changing the subject. This place is lovely. Is it the same point in time?

The companion smiled at the man’s improving grasp of the puzzle. Time was only relative to the events in progress, one event following upon another. But time was never linear for these companions, nor was it linear for the Traveler when he was traveling with them. Time was a flowing river, with places and events, each moment flowing into the next swirling current passing downstream. They could step into the river at any point along its journey, make their observations and return to the shore. It was never enough for them to observe the river at a particular point in time; these companions could see its beginning, the entire course of its journey and its ending, all at once. Someone bound within the rigid constraints of time and space could never truly see the river in all its moments and all its seasons.

You asked about the truth-you wanted to start at the beginning. Very well, asked and answered! It began here yesterday. You are standing in the metaphor, Traveler.

The truth began yesterday? Here? What are you talking about? How can truth have a beginning?

Every river has a beginning, every truth a first day! answered Yad’el, as the two companions began walking across the verdant hillside. They were high atop some grass-covered peak, just above timberline, and the air was thin and crisp. Curious woolly marmots scurried out of their path. Rocky mountain peaks, their spires pointing skyward, defined the surrounding horizon. Nearby, a herd of llamas regarded them imperiously from a distance. The pine trees immediately ahead of them were small and sparse, twisted by the intensity of the alpine weather, a testimony to their indomitable tenacity in the face of horrendous forces. But today, everything was beautiful. It appeared as though every bush and tree on the hillside was in full flower. A playful mountain breeze tugged at his clothes, perfumed with their fragrance.

It was only then that he noticed his pullover shirt, slacks and sneakers were gone, along with his watch and ring. He was wearing a simple long, woolen jerkin and leather trousers bound at his waist with a rope belt. On his feet were the wondrous elfin sandals that had been a gift to him from… He hesitated, recalling Talbariss and Bucella. They were part of history now, lost somewhere in the river. They would never return to the shore. Yad’el was watching him intently.

It all happened, Traveler. Do you recall the magical property of those sandals?

To walk in the paths of peace through a violent world, responded the Traveler, thoughtfully.

Yes, but you must choose to walk. The peace is always available to you, but you must find the path through the violence.

Yad’el, I saw Philando, changed and made whole with the Counselor and I think I know the answer about Meggo because he chose his own future back at Solon, but what about Talbariss and Bucella? They were good people.

Yad’el drew in a deep breath and examined the hillside. Mountain jays and iridescent hummingbirds flitted among the trees. Fluffy white clouds scudded quickly across the vibrant blue expanse of sky. A herd of bighorn sheep vaulted up an adjacent mountainside in the distance. It was an idyllic alpine setting.

They had the truth standing right before their eyes and they never saw it. They will be held accountable for what was revealed to them. With that terse analysis, the companion inhaled deeply, set his gaze on his chosen direction, and headed downhill into the tree line.

I’m not following you, Yad’el, admitted the Traveler absently, still distracted by the vast beauty surrounding him. He breathed deeply too, enjoying the cool fresh air, then pursued his companion down the hillside. You said we were searching for the truth. Maybe I am missing the truth right before my eyes, as well!

Yad’el moved briskly downhill into the tree line, only nodding his head in response to the man’s question. A small band of deer emerged from the surrounding woods, carefully measured the two intruders, then bounded away into the forest. A tiny brook wound its way downward near their path, babbling to itself about new beginnings.

What were you looking for in the library?

The truth! answered the Traveler, stopping to smell deeply from a vibrant yellow flower. But what does a mountain garden have to do with the truth?

Yad’el did not respond. They followed the deer path down through the woods. It gradually became a distinct trail. Overhead, the cry of an unseen eagle pierced the air-a mournful, searching sound. Morning dew still hung heavily on the broad-leafed plants populating the forest floor beneath the forest canopy high overhead. The trees seemed abruptly taller—pine trees and aspen were rapidly giving way to old-growth deciduous hardwoods. Insects could be heard among the foliage, busy with their work, but the two travelers were not bitten or pestered by them. And the air was growing increasingly warm and humid. The Traveler paused to admire the sunlight dappling the thick ground cover, but Yad’el led onward.

The mountainous forest opened onto a small meadow. The sudden break in the trees allowed them to see a wide valley spreading out below them. The small brook eventually became a stream, the stream became a river, then the river divided into separate channels and wandered away into the distance. A vast herd of foraging animals could barely be seen in the lowlands near its shore. Beyond them, a sea coast wrapped around the base of the far mountains. Great flocks of large birds creased the air and the sky was dappled with clouds. The Traveler could not remember a more beautiful or picturesque landscape.

The truth? responded his companion, continuing to lead them downhill along the game path. The truth about what subject? He always returned unerringly to the original question.

You! This quest! This pendant! The jewels! All of it! I need answers to so many questions!

Even when the knowledge of these things might be forbidden? asked Yad’el, pointedly. He was ahead of the Traveler, so the man could not see his face. The Traveler caught at the sleeve of his brown tunic.

Nothing was ever forbidden, Yad’el. The Counselor never mentioned any limits. A solitary rabbit loped into view, hesitated a moment to inspect them, then disappeared without comment. The trail narrowed, forcing the Traveler to follow along immediately behind his companion, while the gamboling breeze ran around the open knoll, causing a sound like waves on the seashore in the branches of the surrounding trees.

In the beginning, there was forbidden knowledge. That was the truth!

No, the Counselor did not say anything about forbidden knowledge.

The Counselor did not add rules, Traveler, nor did he change the existing rules. It is all a matter of timing-your place in the river. Although the companion maintained a brisk pace, the two of them seemed to be covering an inordinately long distance in a very short period of time. Looking back, the Traveler could see that they had descended a long, mountainous hillside in only a few minutes. It should have taken them hours.

Time was not connected to distance here; there was something magical about their progress. He was being allowed to experience the traveling of great distances without the lapse of time. Everything moved in relationship to each other, but not in relationship to time. The animals came and went, the clouds and the wind flew past, the stream flowed, but their progress was not timed. Time was not standing still; it was as though time did not exist.

Something is different with the passage of time here! observed the Traveler, trying to keep pace with his determined companion.

There was so much time that it did not need to be measured, explained Yad’el, distantly. Time passed by unnoticed. A day could have been a thousand years here. A lifetime could last for eons. His gaze hardened and he returned to the present. But that was yesterday! Now time is beginning to follow the new order of things. Time will become a tyrant!

During their short walk, the alpine hillside had become forested hillside, the hillside now a verdant pastureland. Cattle grazed contentedly in open fields, undisturbed by the presence of a pride of lions sleeping on a rock outcropping nearby. Every animal imaginable seemed be represented here, in rapidly changing lifezones, but there were no signs of any habitation by man. The biological diversity of the entire planet was represented without fence or boundary.

"Where are we, Yad’el? No, when are we? asked the Traveler, slowing his pace and examining the surrounding terrain more carefully. A Bengal tiger calmly returned his gaze from the thick undergrowth for a long moment, then disappeared into the shadows of a tall stand of bamboo. An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. More than time was distorted here. Lions live the savanna, but tigers live in a jungle. Alpine meadows do not merge into open prairie in only a few short miles."

There is another world out there following the order of things you are describing, but that did not matter here until yesterday, answered Yad’el, gesturing in the direction of the river valley that flowed away into the distance. The horizon was a blur in the early afternoon haze, but it seemed much closer than the Traveler’s senses reasoned it should be. Time was always related to distance! But not here.

Another world? What are you talking about? Have we left the earth?

We only recently started measuring the passage of time here. So you might say you are where the world began…or rather the day after it began.

No more riddles, Yad’el! snapped the Traveler, angrily. What does any of this have to do with the pursuit of knowledge?

The man skirted anxiously past a large Komodo lizard basking on the river bank, only then realizing that the shore of the river had become the shore of the sea. He spun around. The mountainside where they had first arrived could no longer be seen. That mountain chain was many miles away. To the north, the seashore became white with ice and snow-seals and penguins could be seen cavorting in the waves. Yet, to the south, within walking distance, the coastline was closely bounded by rain forest. Brightly colored tropical birds creased the air. This world was simply impossible! Yad’el kept up his resolute pace, clearly heading for some specific destination in this strange biological convergence.

No riddles, Traveler! There has never been time for riddles.

Yad’el continued to lead through another shifting landscape. Seabirds filled the air which now smelled of the sea. Shards of seashells and coarse sand crunched beneath their feet. Brightly colored crabs skittered out of their path. Whales could be seen breaching the surface of the water as the tide crashed upon the coastline. The Traveler stopped. He crossed his arms and waited for Yad’el to notice his absence. It only took a moment before the companion came to a stop and returned his gaze.

What would you have me tell you? asked Yad’el. You don’t believe in the metaphor, let alone its reality.

Where are we? When are we?

Yad’el drew in another deep breath, the mentor forced to summarize the obvious to a slow pupil. The wind tossed his brown hair. Suddenly he looked very old and wise. Standing by the seashore at the beginning of time.

The beginning of time? repeated the Traveler, incredulously. There are already advanced plant and animal lifeforms here. Evolution has evidently been in progress for millions of years. This isn’t the beginning of anything!

It is the beginning of your history, Traveler, retorted Yad’el, gesturing toward the high ground ahead. The passage of astronomical time-geological time-biological time were all so slow to be almost imperceptible. Call it days or call it eons, you could barely conceive of time’s passage by those clocks. It was all good and no one needed to measure it. There was only one over-arching truth, until yesterday; it was all good! This place was created apart from your world with the best of everything. It was originally designed to be a garden filled with delights-home for the Chosen People. Now time is being kept here as well, just like in your world, but the people are gone and your history has begun. Mankind is now accumulating knowledge. Fascination with the forbidden will be its undoing!

This, the Traveler hesitated, taking it all in, this is the Garden of Eden? He smirked at the thought, ignoring the companion’s ominous admonition again. The metaphor I didn’t believe in?

You are standing in the metaphor, Traveler! Call it what you like, pronounced Yad’el, solemnly. Why do you find it so hard to believe in its existence?

Because life evolved! It did not spring up fully developed in some garden! Mankind was not raised up from the dust of the earth. That explanation is religious nonsense, not a scientific explanation.

Yad’el snorted in disapproval. Said not! You use the scientific method like some weapon to dispel your own ignorance. Very well then, human! Test your scientific theories now! Outside of this place, this garden, the immutable laws of the universe are at work. Your reality is evolving from its chaotic birth to its natural death. Your human race is raising itself up from its animal existence, but never fully exorcising the animal within. But that harsh reality was never the plan for this place, no more than you humans plant a garden intending it for destruction. This garden was meant to be timeless, created wholly separate and complete, unfettered by the immutable laws of your reality. It was good! Until yesterday!

I thought the Garden of Eden was located somewhere in the fertile crescent of the Middle East. Nothing there has ever looked like this.

Said not! answered Yad’el, flatly. He crossed his arms now, waiting for the Traveler’s analysis. The Traveler could only shake his head in confusion.

You are misquoting the very story you claim to be discrediting. The Garden of Eden in your story was created long after the rest of creation was already in place. The universe you are describing was created in the first chapter of that book; this garden was created in the second chapter. It was always set apart on the very edge of your reality, explained Yad’el, patiently. But it was never part of your world. There is one passage in that same record about four rivers passing out of the garden—that verse has been misconstrued to place the garden somewhere in your world. And even that is bad geography! The four rivers mentioned in the passage have never shared a common point of origin in your reality. The companion raised his left hand to gesture toward the broad river running beside them. The living waters from this garden will eventually flow to the four corners of your world, like the four rivers in your reality. That truth is what was intended by the passage.

How can some place be located on the very edge of reality? asked the Traveler.

The companion shook his head and exhaled slowly, deep in thought. If you and I were separated from each other as far as the east is from the west, how far apart would we be?

The Traveler considered the problem for a moment. East and west are only theoretical constructions to explain directions on the surface of a sphere. You could go east or west forever and pass by each other on the other side.

True! Basic spherical geometry, agreed Yad’el. He knelt down to pick up a roughly spherical rock, identifying it as the Traveler’s world. Then, he picked up a second rounded rock. And if there were another reality created tangential to your own, but touching your reality at only one point? Yad’el smacked the rocks together with a loud, clacking sound for emphasis. They touched at only one point. How would you describe it?

It would be located at the very edge of our reality? surmised the man.

The companion stood and raised his arms in sweeping inclusion. A garden was planted toward the east in Eden. He smiled, broadly. So much for the ancients thinking the world was flat. The ancient Greeks would prove mathematically that the world was round almost two thousand years before Columbus sailed. He tossed the stones aside. East was the direction of infinity to the ancients. So a separate world touching their own at one point would appear to be just beyond the very limit of everything known.

Am I to believe that there are two naked humans running around here somewhere waiting to begin the human race?

No! responded Yad’el, dropping his arms to his side and suddenly losing his previous good humor. That was yesterday.

He turned and began walking away from the shoreline, suddenly deflated and oblivious to the Traveler’s curiosity. His companion moved quickly up over the nearest sand dune and passed out of sight.

Yesterday? The Traveler hesitated, calling after him. He wanted to reject this fanciful explanation of such a strange and wonderful garden, yet his senses warred within him. Was it possible that this garden was an isolated laboratory, set apart from the immutable laws of creation, operating just beyond the limits of this marvelous place?

The scientific method sets up hypotheses and control groups, then carefully introduces new variables into the equation. Was the Creator of this garden some sort of scientist, refining the best of everything from the pool of resources located outside of this protected environment? Were the designated progenitors of the selected human race singled out for residency here, while the rest of the human race evolved indiscriminately outside of this controlled environment? A controlled breeding program? Could this garden be an ark, just like another old biblical story?

Questions came tumbling to his mind. Could the Designer of this controlled environment set up the universe with its own immutable laws of existence in full force and effect, including the evolution of species, in the first chapter of the story, then create a special place where those same rules were held in abeyance in the second chapter? It would explain why the Garden needed to be separated from the rest of the world—to avoid contamination. It would also explain where the succeeding generations of children found mates, once they were cast out of the garden. It would even square ancient religion with the existing archeological and biological records. But Yad’el’s explanation did not describe why this experiment had to come to an end. The Traveler moved to catch up with his companion.

Cresting the dune, the Traveler scanned the surrounding terrain. Yad’el was nowhere to be seen. The coastal tidewater area quickly became salt marsh to the south, so the Traveler skirted the area. Herons and cranes took flight at his approach, while crocodiles slid beneath the surface of the water and flamingos waded away from him. He called for Yad’el, but there was no answer.

This was a perfect world in multiple dimensions. Not the perfection of some renaissance painting or some idyllic European countryside-nor was it even his own version of perfection based on his limited experiences in life. This garden was the best of everything, a botanical and zoological collection of the world and all its vast diversity. Were Adam and Eve the best of humanity? He scratched his head, trying to remember the rest of the story. They tended a garden set apart from the rest of creation. All the plants and animals were named by them. And they walked with their God, naked and unashamed! The Traveler swallowed hard. He was ready to confront two innocent and naked human beings, but he wasn’t so sure about meeting the Designer of this laboratory!

The salt marsh gradually changed into a dark bayou with towering mangrove trees and thick green carpets of moss. The air vibrated with the hum of insect life and smelled of decay. The swamp was an alien environment to him and he recoiled from it. Yet he was not being bitten by the insects and none of the animals bothered him. An opossum waddled away into the thick ground cover. Would a swamp ever be perfection? Could you have a perfect bayou? He headed uphill toward drier ground.

Crossing over the crest of a grassy knoll, the Traveler could see the expanse of a great river glistening in the sunlight. Fruit trees lined its nearest shore. A family of large brown bears waded across at the shallows, oblivious to his own passage. Each biosphere here had its own definition of perfection, totally apart from Man’s definition. He plucked a pearlike fruit from a nearby tree, but the ominous story of the forbidden fruit came to mind. He hesitated with the ripe green pear still in his hand. Was that what Yad’el had meant about forbidden knowledge? The fruit of some particular tree in the garden was forbidden. He looked around self-consciously. Seeing no warnings, and many similar trees, he bit into it. The pear was succulent and delicious, dripping with flavor and goodness. He smiled. Eating fruit in the Garden of Eden! He wiped his hands on his pants and continued his search for Yad’el.

He had walked only a few paces beyond the pear tree when he was overcome by the eerie sensation of being watched. The Traveler was not alone! He scanned the area, but nothing disturbed the harmonious beauty of the rural pastureland. He dropped the pear.

There was the scratch of steel on tree bark directly behind him.

He whirled around, startled by the noise so close to him, then froze in perplexed fascination. In the upper branches of the pear tree, a huge bald eagle watched him intently. At first he thought it was the look of a predator identifying its target, so intent was its gaze. Its head pivoted, first left and then right, inspecting him carefully, as if determining his range and flavor. The Traveler felt the flashing fear of the small prey animal confronted with its own imminent destruction. But he was no field mouse or migrating salmon. Surely, the eagle did not mean to attack him.

The eagle flexed massive, sharp talons on the tree branch, stepping slightly to the right and cocking its head for a better look at him. Those talons were like steel blades, hard and razor sharp, scratching the bark as they moved. They spoke of slashing, swift, crushing judgment when they closed on their victim. How awful to fall into the talons of this enemy! But then, the eagle was not his enemy-was he?

The bird inflated its chest and partially unfurled its broad wings, lifting its gaze skyward, announcing its departure. The Traveler was mesmerized by the display, fervently hoping that the eagle would not leave, yet thrilled with the thought of seeing it take flight. Surprisingly, the eagle hesitated, returning a puzzled look toward the man standing on the ground. It resettled its wings across its back and resumed watching the Traveler. A plaintive little croak was the only noise it made. After cocking its head left, then right, the huge bird sidestepped even further out onto the branch, causing the branch to groan and the leaves to shake. Several pears were cast to the ground.

And still the great bird stared at him. The Traveler mused-could the eagle be making room for him on the branch? That was a silly thought! Man was meant for the ground and the eagle was meant for the sky. They had nothing in common. Apparently, the eagle came to the same conclusion. Unfurling his brown and white wings to their full extent, pinion feathers fanned like open hands, the eagle leaped from the branch and dove in the Traveler’s direction, crossing the distance between them in seconds. The Traveler instinctively ducked like a frightened field mouse as the bird swooped over his head. He could feel the pressure of the wings beating the air, gathering lift for the sky. In a few powerful strokes the eagle was climbing into the bright, blue firmament overhead. It repeated that long, forlorn cry of its kind, looking back in the Traveler’s direction over its shoulder. The man had heard that same cry earlier this morning, but had barely noticed it. Now the cry set strings vibrating in his own heart. Why does the eagle cry? What was it bemoaning? He had the full reach of heaven as his domain and the earth was his to explore. He feared nothing, deferred to no one, yet his cry spoke of emptiness and longing. Catching a rising zephyr of wind, the eagle swung skyward and passed out of sight over the surrounding hills that constrained the man’s earthbound vision. His moment with the eagle was over and the man shivered. He was more alone now than he ever was before!

A glint of reflected sunlight on the high ground ahead of him caught his attention and he headed toward it. Thinking better of it, the Traveler slowed his pace, suddenly concerned about what might lay ahead. Was this the right path? He looked over his shoulder, trying to establish his direction of travel. The sun was still high overhead. Generally he was headed the same direction as Yad’el, as best as he could figure it, but he couldn’t be sure. The sun had not moved in the sky and everywhere he went, he seemed to run into a river. What if he met someone other than Yad’el? And then there was supposed to be a serpent of some kind in this garden. Not just any serpent, but the arch-enemy of Mankind. He recalled his last encounter with Lethefro, the red dragon of Solon, rejoicing over the death of his latest victim. His right hand went instinctively to his chest at the terrifying memory.

The breastplate with its helical sword was not there.

His armor was missing! Why had he not considered this dreadful liability sooner? He had been fully equipped at the end of the last adventure, but now only his pendant and the sandals remained. Even the comforting belt called Emeth was gone—he felt weak and vulnerable. He cradled his wondrous pendant in his hands-it always brought him comfort-but he again froze in horror. The facets were empty. Even the central blue stone was gone, its empty socket staring back at him like a blind eye. The brilliant red satellite jewel that he had worked so hard for in the last adventure was also missing. Panic struck! He was naked and alone, defenseless in uncharted territory. The Traveler began to trot in the direction of the high ground, calling out for Yad’el.

He was breathing heavily by the time he reached the top of a large, elevated hemispherical rise. It seemed to be located near the center of the unusual garden. Two statuesque trees were isolated on its crowning summit, set apart from the rest of the garden like royal dignitaries. He slowed to catch his breath. Both trees were fully in leaf and bore luscious fruit, but he could not recognize either variety. One tree shimmered like a rainbow, its leaves iridescent in the bright sunlight and its fruit an enticing green. The other tree was equally verdant and appealing, its foliage brilliant green and its fruit bright red. Yad’el was nowhere to be seen. The Traveler could not remove his gaze from the trees on the hilltop. Could one of them be the forbidden tree? Which one? Why were there two trees here? Was he trapped in the metaphor? He skirted the area nervously, searching for Yad’el and watching for any movement. The shimmering trees invited closer inspection. He resisted the impulse to turn aside.

Reaching the far side of the berm, he caught sight of his companion standing silently at the eastern edge of the hillside, looking further toward the east. Yad’el’s attention was captivated by some scene in the valley below him. The Traveler ran to Yad’el’s side, but his companion seemed to ignore his approach.

Yad’el! panted the Traveler, drawing up beside him. I’ve lost the jewels. I’ve lost the armor. What is happening here? He tugged at the companion’s arm. Yad’el did not shift his attention away from the valley floor.

All lines of communication are clear and no harm can come to you here, Traveler. The jewels and the armor are unnecessary. You have never been more safe in your entire life, responded Yad’el, solemnly.

Safe? You don’t understand! I’ve lost the jewels, Yad’el! You’ve got to help me find them! The Traveler was nearly hysterical at their loss. His eyes were drawn back toward the two trees in the middle of the garden. Do they have something to do with this?

Yad’el turned and regarded both trees thoughtfully, but decided to ignore the man’s question—far more insightful than he could possibly imagine. You cannot lose something you cannot possess! And you cannot possess the jewels here!

The Traveler was brought up short by this cryptic response. Still panting heavily, he collected his thoughts. He had possessed the jewels, therefore he could lose them. So, the companion’s comment made no sense. Yet, Yad’el was not given to irrelevancies! As if sensing his growing frustration, Yad’el turned tear-filled eyes to the Traveler.

There was no need for the jewels here, Traveler. They did not exist before this moment in time. Yesterday, your race walked with their Creator in complete communion. There was no need for translation, no requirement for a conduit of His power. This is only a small part of the heavy price your race will pay for forbidden knowledge.

Good and evil? asked the Traveler, his attention drawn back to the glittering trees behind them. They shimmered in the sunlight.

The knowledge of good and evil, Traveler. Both Good and Evil existed before yesterday. However, the humans were not yet touched by Evil. Yad’el shook his head, biting his lip. Nothing was withheld from them, except the knowledge of good and evil, and still they chose disobedience.

They were tricked by some serpent, weren’t they? offered the Traveler, not understanding the companion’s emotional turmoil over these events.

Tricked, repeated Yad’el angrily, as though they were not fully responsible for their choices? Do you now seek to excuse their complicity? There was a deceitful misrepresentation of the Creator’s instructions and wicked slander of His good character, but the serpent found willing allies. Yad’el clenched his jaw and paced away from the man.

Turning, he pointed an accusing finger at the frightened mortal. A clear, deceitful choice and obvious consequences! A vast chaos created by one rebellious decision! They would be as gods! Wasn’t that the temptation in your old story? Well, the gods have certainly fallen! Yad’el looked away from the man.

The Traveler dropped down on the grassy hillside, crossed his arms on his knees. That was yesterday? asked the Traveler.

Yad’el nodded grimly, although the Traveler did not look up to see it.

Why allow the choice at all? Why not protect them from the consequences?

A loving parent must allow choices, even bad ones, if any right choice is to have meaning. It is an integral step in the process of maturity.

But this choice is so awful. A good parent would never let their child burn their hand in a flame, even if it taught the child a valuable lesson. This is so much worse!

What if the choice was ultimately a decision concerning life and death, Traveler, and the immature child must learn to reject death in order to choose life?

The Traveler looked up at the cryptic question, objecting to yet another riddle from his companion. Yad’el knelt down beside the man sitting on the edge of the future and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.

My people were once presented with the same momentous choice on another morning, long before your sun began to shine. It has always been a question of sovereignty, Traveler. Who will be the sovereign in your reality? Who would define good and evil? It was an astounding choice, but a very real one for us. It would either be the King’s unyielding definition of righteousness or our own tolerant flexibility! There would be no debate, no consensus formed, no sliding scale of political correctness. We were dealing with perfection. Perfection is such a high standard; the perfect survives and the imperfect passes away. Many of my people could not accept that high standard. There must be room in the universe for the imperfect, they argued, so they redefined good and evil for themselves. The rebellion began!

Yad’el’s voice trailed off, lost in his own thoughts. For timeless creatures, yesterday’s memories were always as fresh as today’s reality. He relived the awful battle once again—-the struggle of perfection trying to dominate an imperfect universe. Myriads upon myriads fell! Stars spun outward toward chaos. Galaxies crashed into oblivion. He walked the battlefield again, his ephemeral armor dented and splattered with the blood of the vanquished. Vanquished, defeated, but not dead. Something far worse than death awaited those who had chosen to resist the sovereignty of their King.

Join us, Yad’el! pleaded the broken and charred creatures writhing before him. Enough of us could succeed! Once clothed in the gossamer light of the cosmos, their raiment was now tattered and blackened. Wings that once glistened like sunlight itself were now bleeding skin stretched over skeletal frames. We can still be like gods!

Like gods! summarized Yad’el, returning his thoughts to the beleaguered man at his side. This mortal child was spared the eternal perspective of his parent. That was the temptation; you shall be like gods. Not in this universe, Traveler! There is only one God and He is very jealous of His sovereignty.

Where are the humans now? asked the Traveler, referring to the lost children of the garden.

Yad’el gestured toward the bottom of the hill.

The killing of some animal had recently taken place. Blood stained the ground. The visceral and skeletal remains of some poor, unfortunate creature had been burned on a crude stone altar.

He made clothes for them from animal skin with His own hands. His own hands, Traveler! Hands that had lovingly shaped the universe were now compelled to kill one small part of that perfect creation—a sacrifice was required to cover their nakedness. They were helpless children really, naked and afraid for the first time in their lives. They had been helpless and naked before that, but He protected them and their nakedness did not matter. But now they would see His displeasure! They were afraid. He sent them out of the garden and into the world.

How cruel! exclaimed the Traveler.

Cruel? repeated the companion. Do you have any idea what would have happened to them if they had eaten of the other tree on the high ground after tasting the first forbidden fruit? Can you even glimpse the pain suffered by a perfect Creator watching His perfection shatter before His eyes? Can you touch the all-consuming righteous indignation felt by a betrayed and blameless father watching his child reject his heritage? Sending them out of the garden was an unfathomable act of compassion and mercy.

The second tree, Yad’el, on the berm? Eternal life? The Traveler turned to look back at the shimmering leaves of the two trees glistening behind him on the hillside.

My people were already eternal before their fall, so their judgment was also eternal. They were flawed, defying perfection, and jealously coveting their flaws. There was no remorse, no remedy, no redemption, no atonement for their rebellion. The taste of the second fruit, after succumbing to the first fruit, would have surely brought your race into the same eternal damnation.

The