The Fourth Jewel of Earth

By James W. Greenhalge

You were once given a helmet.

A helmet? The Traveler thought for a long moment. Yes, Soterionthe defender, he affirmed.

You must learn to wear it in battle, instructed the Preacher. You take so many blows to your soul because your intellect is open to the enemy.

When am I in battle?

Ishi shook him gently. Every day is a battle, Traveler! Take every thought captive, remember? Salvation is forever, and yet the need for it occurs in the daily battlefield. You must work it out with reverential fear and trembling. Wear your

helmet, Traveler!

Fourth in the Jewels of Earth saga, this novel sends the Traveler careening through human history, searching for the mysterious Omnipoint. He must find it! His supernatural guardian has warned him that beyond was only utter and eternal darkness. Meanwhile, the black magic of the Cabala is distorting reality around him, humanity is dominated by animal compromises, and his immortal enemies seek his life. Is the beautiful unicorn shadowing his every move a fellow traveler or a dangerous deception?

How can any of this be human historyhis historyyour history?

Wear your helmet, Traveler!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 1, 2008
• ISBN: 9781467047746

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

Relishing the last drop, he set the cup aside and finished typing his thoughts onto the word processor. There was something so satisfying about hot coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar, at least to him! How would he describe that satisfaction to someone who had never tasted coffee? It was…well, perfect! Not very logical and certainly not empirically provable, but there was a special relationship between him and his coffee. Beauty—and satisfaction—were in the eye of the beholder! Everyone knew and accepted this truism in their daily lives, and yet no two people would see things in exactly the same way, perceive the same colors, experience the same sensations, appreciate the same tastes. Similar yes, but never quite the same. Personal experiences had to be interpreted. Perfume companies hired people with especially sensitive noses to describe subtleties to the less keen audiences. Pilots were recruited for sharper eyesight, athletes for their prowess, scientists for their analytical ability. Editors and writers marshaled thoughts for their readers, adding their own vision to the words. There were taste connoisseurs for special vintages of wine to tell us what was good or bad. How hot was too hot—how cold was too cold? Everyone was unique, and functioned within their natural capabilities, but sometimes a guide was needed to take people beyond their own senses and experiences to expose the unseen in a new way. Yes, that’s it—his role was to guide people somewhere that already resonated deep within them, but found little or no expression in their daily lives. He added the last few keystrokes to the electronic page glowing before him.

Glancing up at the clock, he smiled to himself. She would be home soon. Trying to close the library at 9:00 p.m., but needing to chase out the last, slow patrons. Chuckling to himself, he began closing out the software program. That was how they had met, those many months ago. No wait! It was suddenly years ago now, he corrected himself. They had been married for almost two years and there was that whirlwind romance that began in the library before that. Love was another adventure, entirely unexpected—unbelievable to those who had never experienced it—yet so believable to those who had traveled there.

The hum of the garage door opening interrupted his reverie. She was home. The Traveler sighed, staring at the computer screen before him. Only two more pages written tonight! Would anyone ever read this? Would they see the truth in it? His mysterious companions once joked that he could always become a science fiction writer. But would an entertaining story obscure the invaluable lessons he was experiencing through these adventures? It was such a tedious, but enriching progression—bringing his own experiences to life on the written page while trying to avoid any distortions in the traveling. Click—Save! Click—Close! Two more pages! He pushed the power button on the monitor and the screen went black. Stretching as he rose from the chair, he flicked off the office light, and headed toward the kitchen.

The access door from the garage swung open and Amanda pushed her way through, laden with her purse, a bag of groceries, a sheaf of magazines for reviewing, and her empty coffee mug. Hi, hon! she called out.

In here, he called back, taking her dinner from the refrigerator, removing the plastic wrap, and popping it into the microwave oven. How was your day?

Hectic…and yet a little monotonous! she stated flatly as she blew past him, giving him a little peck on the cheek, dropping the magazines, groceries and purse on the table, then depositing her mug into the sink. Nancy is closing tomorrow night. I should be home by 6:00 p.m. She headed for the hall closet to hang up her coat. How was your day?

Oh, the usual, he answered indifferently, pouring her a cup of hot tea from the kettle on the stove and setting it on the kitchen table. Three clients done – four more to go – two of them urgent – one that should have been done yesterday. By the way, Lisa Patterson is pregnant.

Do I know her? Amanda returned from the closet, smiled at him in passing, and headed toward the bedroom.

Christmas party last year. She was the young blonde with the loud laugh, playing up to Larry Curechek.

Married? asked a voice from the bedroom.

No, admitted the Traveler. He cleared the table, placing Amanda’s purse by the closet door and the magazines on the countertop. She would be reading them at breakfast.

Who’s the father?

I don’t know, he said, thumbing through the titles. Word was that she didn’t much care who it was. There were several fan magazines, two business journals, one about cycling, another about weight-lifting and another about dog breeding. The usual library fare. He glanced up at the clock—10:12 p.m. It was already late. He knew Amanda would be exhausted—want to eat quickly, then go straight to bed. He would be up earlier in the morning and be off to work before her breakfast. Life with the DINKS, he thought ruefully – Double Income, No Kids. At least they would have tomorrow night together.

Sometimes it seems like we’re living two different lives—one interacting with a fallen world that tries to dictate our decisions, but really doesn’t care about us—and another where we serve a King who really does care about us, but doesn’t dictate our choices.

In the world, but not of it? Were you writing again? she asked, as she returned to the kitchen in her sleeping shirt, robe, and slippers. This time she pulled him to her and gave him a longer, and much more meaningful, kiss. The microwave beeped, informing them that it was finished with heating up her dinner, but they ignored it. For today, they only had this moment. Being in love included having her dinner ready for her after a long day at work. They hugged each other after the kiss.

Yes, he finally said, pulling himself away from her and gesturing toward the table.

Yes, what? She moved to her customary open chair.

Yes, I was writing again. The plate from the microwave was still hot and he gingerly transferred it to the table. Grabbing up a knife and fork, he finished her place setting and sat down opposite her.

Thank you, sweetie, she smiled, it means a lot. Then, as an afterthought, she added, Napkin?

Oh, right! He jumped up from the table and got the napkin for her. She bowed her head in gratitude for her many blessings, then began eating. On nights when she closed the library, she always ate late and he ate early. It wasn’t an ideal arrangement, but it was their life for now and they had settled comfortably into a married routine.

I like it when you write, she ventured between mouthfuls. There is a thoughtfulness and peaceable spirit about you after writing.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Sometimes I worry that it’s all nothing more than neurotic, self-directed psychotherapy.

Does it serve the King?

He nodded thoughtfully. His writing certainly did wonders for him, and for Amanda, and for those precious few individuals who picked up the books, found themselves moving beyond the printed words, and embarking on their own adventures in the Kingdom.

Does it benefit the reader? she asked, as if sensing his thoughts. He pursed his lower lip and sighed. Were there any readers—real readers—readers plunging into the cold, bracing waters hidden beneath the superficial story line? How can I know that? he answered.

You are not responsible for the reception, just the presentation, she asserted, wisely. They had addressed his underlying insecurity as a writer many times—too many times—before.

And who will believe it—really believe it—when they read it?

I do! She smiled at him. Her unwavering faith in him made everything more manageable. He took her free hand in his, squeezing it affectionately.

Wouldn’t it be grand if we could do our traveling together?

She finished her mouthful and sipped at her tea before answering. In a way, we do—everyday—on this timeline.

The Traveler grimaced. And one timeline moves on—our own timeline together with daily events falling into place. But in the other timeline—the spiritual one—we still travel alone.

Alone? She chewed on another bite, stabbing the air with her fork for emphasis. We share those moments when our traveling along that other timeline arrives at the same truths simultaneously, but it is our individual relationship with the King that is important. Each journey is as unique as the traveler. Our own personal walk is valid and precious, she affirmed confidently, and we can find reinforcement and encouragement in the testimony of others. You just keep writing, Traveler!

Some of our experiences translate, pursued the Traveler, "but some of it is so different and unique. Your first jewel was humility! She worked on another mouthful, nodding in agreement. He continued. Mine was Wisdom, and yet our paths crossed thousands of years ago in that other timeline. We all travel—all generally in the same direction—but the paths are not always the same and the lessons learned are in a different order. How do I write about that?"

You will think of something, she responded, positively. Have you presented this problem to the Counselor?

He dropped his gaze to their hands clasped on the tabletop. I’ve been busy, he muttered.

Too busy for counsel? Her loving brown eyes focused on him intently. "Too busy doing good things, instead of listening for him, being with him, following his leading?"

You can’t stay in the library forever, he asserted, defensively. There is a real world out there, with real world demands. There just isn’t time for quiet meditation and prayer.

We must make time, she asserted, squeezing his hand back, and not allow the world to stampede us into living their way. Daily traveling with the King is a lot like a marriage—you find ways to make time, if it is important to you!

I would rather be spending more time with you, admitted the Traveler with bedroom eyes. Your looks still stop traffic.

Maybe your traffic! She smiled again, appreciating his ardor, but deflecting his passion to another night. "There is a time and a place for everything, my love, but we must make time when there is time. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock. Right now, a good night’s sleep sounds wonderful."

Of course it does, he agreed, sighing dejectedly. We can stop traffic another day. Their conversation scattered to many other subjects as she finished her meal. He prepared himself a bowl of ice cream, but she refused any dessert, yawning wearily.

I’ll make dinner tomorrow night, she volunteered. He nodded, clearing the table.

You’re very sweet, Amanda observed thoughtfully, watching him work. I cannot imagine traveling without you in this lifetime.

Do you remember life before we met?

She considered his unusual question for a moment, then responded, Sure, but even those memories are changing—some mellowing with the passage of time and others disappearing entirely. Like a closed chapter in a book, we’re moving on toward new horizons together. We’re experiencing a new life together now. Do you regret our choices?

No, not at all, he answered quickly, but I was just writing about the changes in my own life. Sometimes, we need to look back at the memorials and road signs to see where we’ve been. I can’t remember the time before I tasted coffee, but I know there was a time when I didn’t like the taste. I’ve been changed by the traveling.

I seem to remember a learned and roadwise traveler who once observed that we cannot truly hold onto anything in this world. The things we cling to will be pried from our hands. There is only one secure truth—there is a plan to all of our traveling!

Belief in the plan. His eyes dropped to the magnificent, invisible pendant hanging about his neck. Invisible to all other mortal eyes, but so precious to him. There it was, arresting all other thoughts and speculations. The deep and impenetrable blue stone was affixed to the center of three intersecting silver-gold disks and surrounded by seven facets. Three of them were filled. Wisdom, the first jewel he received in his traveling, glowed brightly with its ruddy brilliance in the lower left hand facet of the ring. Above it in the circle of facets was Knowledge, the objective of his second journey—a warm, friendly orange. And opposite them in the lower right facet was their illusive violet companion, Belief in the Plan, the Third Jewel of Earth. And yet, there were so many unanswered questions. Why Earth? Why these colors? Why the empty facets? Why the circles within circles? Where were his companions now? What was next in his traveling? The closer he tried to observe the third jewel, the more it faded from view. Belief in the plan was an investment of his faith, not empirical proof.

Amanda stretched wearily and rose from the table. Thank you for traveling with me again for another day, kind sir! He rose to meet her and they kissed again.

It has always been a pleasure, my lady! They hugged each other for a long moment.

Are you coming to bed now?

In a few minutes, he answered, not feeling ready for sleep.

Don’t stay up too late. Amanda headed for the bedroom and the Traveler cleared the table. He cleaned the dishes in the sink and Amanda’s mug, readying it for tomorrow’s routine. Another day! In truth, all of us traveled one day at a time, he observed as the bedroom light winked out. If your priority was holding back the advance of time, then this was a pessimistic observation. Everything slips away. But if you concentrated on the King’s perspective, then it was another day closer to home. What was that like? What about those who refused to travel with Him? So many questions!

He listened contentedly to the sound of quiet snoring already coming from the bedroom. She was so tired. He turned off the kitchen light. Restful darkness filled their small home. Familiar with the surroundings, he moved easily within the darkness, even remembering to step around Amanda’s purse propped beside the hall closet door. The curtained windows slowly became rectangular fields of pale, white light as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. The end of another day! He locked the front door and slipped the dead bolt into place.

There are answers to every question, Traveler.

The deep, resonant male voice startled him. He spun around, peering into the darkness of the room. A solitary, dark form was sitting in one of their living room chairs.

But with humans, so many prefer to fret over the questions and engage in idle speculations about the answers, rather than finding them.

The Traveler edged toward the stationary form, simultaneously frightened and thrilled by the unexpected encounter. Yad’el?

Asked and answered, came the terse, but friendly reply. It was one of his two faithful traveling companions from the other timeline. Not human, yet so similar that they could move undiscovered through this linear timeline. Time, for them, was fluid and circular. The past, present and future were all accessible. How decisions were made—why his companions appeared when they did in a particular place and time—were still great mysteries to him. Despite all of their time together, the Traveler knew so little about them.

Where have you been? The Traveler moved quickly into the living room and sat down on the couch opposite his companion, lowering his voice to avoid waking Amanda.

Where? repeated Yad’el.

Okay, not a good question, conceded the Traveler, now accustomed to these temporal puzzles. Where, indeed? Which timeline—where and when? He had been told many times that his companions would never leave him, but their presence was not always apparent to him. Even though the Traveler wore the pendant, and it showed him the world the way the King perceived it, he knew from experience that it did not show him everything at once. Somehow, the revelations were always discriminating—only as much as he needed for the moment. Another unsolved mystery.

I’ve missed you!

Yad’el reflected on the man’s truthful admission for a long moment. In the darkness, the Traveler could not see the expressions of compassion and understanding on his companion’s face.

"I am not capable of missing you, but I am glad we are together again."

Why could I not see you before this?

You would have…been disturbed…to see me at all times, particularly during your…private moments.

The man swallowed hard. There was a time when the Traveler would have been mortified to learn that his companion was present but invisible, even during those ‘private’ moments, but it had saved his life on so many occasions. Perhaps more times than he realized! Yad’el remained totally objective and committed to him, even during his failures and backsliding. The guardian’s observations would be given to him without recrimination or condemnation—the clear, unvarnished truth about himself—a truthful and flawless mirror.

You see everything I do?

Yad’el nodded solemnly.

The Traveler dropped his gaze to the floor. Not very faithful or heroic, am I? There have been so many secret compromises, little white lies, unworthy fantasies, and outright mistakes. I kid myself that since no one else knows, no one else is harmed by those actions. But you know…and there is harm done.

There was a long silence, while his companion tried to compose an answer to the man’s deep concerns—knowing and the harm caused by knowing. There was so much that this mortal creature sitting before him did not understand about the spiritual world. Before he could respond, the man spoke up again.

I am sorry you are put through that, Yad’el, pressed the Traveler. He knew his acts of rebellion and willful disobedience actually pained his companions. They were so rigid, correct, focused, and uncompromising. It was their very nature. To allow even the concept of disbelief or rejection of the King’s plan to enter their thinking was a step toward the…toward the enemy. He had seen precious little of the enemy in this mortal timeline, as well.

The enemy draws power from disobedience, began Yad’el slowly, even those unexpressed condemnations of your pregnant female co-worker and selfish judgments about her lack of morality, secret little fantasies that you entertain in your private moments, and the ‘white’ lies you tell others to accommodate your acts of rebellion. You must work on taking every thought captive, Traveler—knowing the truth and following it.

Sighing, the man clasped his hands before him and rocked back in his chair. That is such a problem for us, Yad’el. We don’t have your unyielding sense of righteousness.

You should, said his companion, ominously. It is very dark!

That cryptic comment brought back memories of other dark nights in his soul when the compromising nearly overwhelmed him. But Yad’el was there…always there…through the best and worst of his traveling.

Am I still on the road to Siyon? In his mind’s eye, he stood once again on the steps of the great temple in Jebu City, seeing the vision of a wondrous bridge stretching between their worlds—one end anchored at the altar of sacrifice, the other disappearing into the heavenly realm overhead. Yad’el’s kindred host were coming and going along its length, intent upon their missions in their timeless struggle to aid the human resistance against a darkening world. The vibrant rainbow arching overhead. The living stones. The cold, rigid form of the angelic sentry on the far side, helical sword in hand, preventing any mortal’s return to the Creator’s garden. The falling away from perfect union. The intractable void remaining between them. He rubbed his sternum, recalling once again the searing pain of his separation at the Garden.

Can you still see it? Yad’el asked.

The road home? responded the Traveler, first looking up at his companion, then down at his pendant. Yes, I can see it!

Then you are still traveling toward home!

But my failures … The man’s voice trailed off.

Some days you have walked, others days you ran, observed his stalwart companion distantly, as if reviewing his own memories of the man’s life. Some days you lost ground! Other times, you sat on the roadway and pouted—complaining about the length of the journey. Some days were spent well off the roadway in the ditch of licentiousness, while other days were spent snared in the ditch of legalism on the far side of the road. There are no beasts or adversaries on the roadway itself; they have always waited for you in the ditches and the wastelands off the highway. But…you have never lost sight of the road home!

Can I lose sight of it?

The silence lengthened between them. The Traveler nodded his head in recognition. Of course, it was always a matter of his choices. You could ignore the warnings, entertain the siren songs of temptation, seek your own good, and one day realize you were so lost there appeared to be no way home. Jerebo, that reckless and rebellious minotaur on his last journey, was still a painful reminder—the minotaur lurked within him, too!

As if sensing his thoughts, Yad’el answered. At some point, being lost could become more difficult than any human heart could bear. A moment later, he added in confident benediction, And even then, the King can still find you! Like a good shepherd, He will leave the flock on the roadway and find the lost sheep.

Did He find Jerebo?

You read the end of his story in the ancient book.

He wasn’t a bad man, Yad’el…at least not at first. The road was so long and the hope of his promised kingdom was deferred. The man kneaded his clasped hands before him. We can all lose heart in the traveling!

The companion leaned forward in the chair. That human vulnerability was an intrinsic part of mortality…hope deferred makes the human heart sick—and weak. Despair and resignation were foreign emotions to him; the angelic host never experienced such things. And yet, if his human ward did not recover from this woundedness, their next mission could fail. He could fail! It was a sobering thought.

"You must look to life, Traveler, and not toward death. Forgetting what has passed behind, you must press on toward the prize that lies ahead. Do not lose heart!"

But you said yourself, it is so dark, retorted the Traveler. He gestured to the world outside of the locked doors of his home. It is not going well. We are losing the war here, in this timeline, aren’t we? The pendant shows me so many things I do not fully understand.

There have been darker times, asserted Yad’el, and humanity has survived.

But it is growing darker now!

His companion turned to look at the locked door to the outside world, and nodded. Every day, fewer and fewer humans look toward life. They busy themselves with survival and satisfying their greedy appetites, or turning their faces toward the grave. Belief in the plan fails. Hearts grow faint. Wisdom and knowledge are overturned. Right becomes wrong and truth becomes indefensible. The gathering shadows diminish the warmth of sunlight. Even those humans who travel without the benefit of a pendant can sense something is going terribly wrong with human history, but they cannot bring themselves to search for the highway home. The enemy grows stronger with each passing day and more bold in their blasphemies.

"So it is hopeless!"

No, commanded his guardian, rising from his chair. The room suddenly grew brighter. His companion’s ethereal armor radiated a warm, golden glow and great, majestic wings unfurled behind him.

"There is still hope for the remnant that must be spared the wrath to come. You must choose life, Traveler."

The Traveler rose to face his mighty companion. What must I do to choose life?

Yad’el placed his right hand on the man’s shoulder and smiled broadly.

You must travel the road to Siyon!

Chapter 2

As Yad’el lowered his hand from the Traveler’s shoulder, a cold breeze swirled around them. It remained very dark, but they were suddenly out of doors. Starlight twinkled overhead. Amanda, his home, even his familiar clothes were gone. Once again he was wearing the simple pullover jerkin and leather pants gathered at the ankle. His feet were shod with the marvelous sandals that never wore out. His pendant sparkled in the darkness.

Where are we? When are we? The Traveler peered into the surrounding darkness. He could see no details to orient himself.

On the road to Siyon, answered Yad’el quietly, but it is a very dark and hazardous road just now. The enemy controls this land and this time in your human history. The light has almost been erased. We are in great danger here.

Danger? The Traveler smirked. "Are you ever in danger? Every time we are in danger, I seem to be the one moving into harm’s way."

Not this time, mortal. These days are very dark, indeed. There are only a handful of travelers left in the entire world, and the enemy is running rampant across the face of the earth.

What? The Traveler was stunned by these surprising revelations. When he had left the last adventure, the human tribe was on the ascendant, despite their flaws and weaknesses. King Suhlemah was the wealthiest and wisest king who had ever lived—the human tribe had complete control of the Kannim and had come into their promised inheritance. What could have happened to change all that? Where was this moment in the timeline? Perhaps Yad’el had brought him to a point prior to the great flood in Noll’s time. Those days were certainly evil. There was a disturbing air of concern on his companion’s features. His guardian was tense—alert—sensing imminent danger. You are in danger, too? What is going on here?

Yad’el was scanning the darkness surrounding them, as if looking for identifying features, as well. His companion was distracted, an emotion the Traveler had never seen before. His own sense of alarm was heightened by his companion’s sudden wariness. He had faced raging demons, seen awesome supernatural judgments, and witnessed vast natural disasters with this normally stalwart companion, but Yad’el had never shown any anxiety before.

It is difficult to explain, began his guardian, eyes continuing to scan the surrounding darkness. This is not something my people fully understand. You and your kind are a reflection of the Creator, still part of the creative process, fashioned in His own image. Do you remember our time in the Garden?

The Traveler nodded. He could never forget their time in the Garden.

The first man and the first woman had a task at hand—they were gardeners and caretakers of the Garden. At that same time, they were given sovereignty over the animal kingdom. They named the animals and whatever name was given them, that became their name. Yad’el glanced at the man. That sovereignty continued undiminished until the time of Noll.

The Traveler recalled the awful flood and the compliant animals queuing up for positions in the ark. There was no instinctive fear of mankind in their eyes. Those animals were intelligent and communicative in their own way, and their natural hostilities to each other were non-existent in the ark. It was awesome and overwhelming. He felt again the regal male lion on the ramp licking his chin, its hot breath on his cheek. Do not fear—it is not the Way! Chosen animals, with the breath of life, were reporting to the last man in the lineage of the first Garden people. Something noble and beautiful—their wondrous and harmonious relationship—was coming to a bitter end. The fallen world had become corrupted and evil. The system had to be purged.

Yad’el resumed his search of the darkened horizon. There is only one source of supernatural power in the universe Traveler, not two! All things…all things…were brought into existence by the Creator, even the enemy. Humanity remains a conduit for that creative energy, for both good and evil, and the angelic host thrive upon that power while operating in this world. Where there is an abundance of that power…travelers being aligned with the King’s purposes…marvelous things can happen. He hesitated, grimly considering the alternative. But the enemy also draws upon this same power when humans rebel against the King’s authority. The fallen host twist and distort that creative energy to their evil purposes.

Jerebo! whispered the Traveler, remembering the angry and rebellious minotaur raging against his Unnamed god. He would eventually lead a revolt against Daviki’s kingdom, trying to undo all that the Sons of Earth had accomplished in the Kannim. He was once given the opportunity to serve the Unnamed One, but had rejected submission to His will. What was the evil fruit of that rebellion?

Him and others like him, confirmed Yad’el, throughout human history. When the noble humanity left the Garden to come here, there was still ample power for us to operate in this world. This corrupted timeline was inhabited by the unregenerate, evolved humanity—physically identical to the Garden humans, but spiritually barren and animalistic. Kill or be killed! Take, rather than give! Look out for Number One! The enemy controlled so much, yet they did not have human collaborators who channeled that creative energy to them—not until the noble Garden humanity began interbreeding with the humans of this world and leaving the Way.

The Nephalim! The Traveler marveled at the lessons learned in his earlier adventures and how the greater truths were gradually being revealed to him. He had unwittingly believed so many lies and distortions. His own timid faith in the plan was based upon so much mythology and misunderstanding.

Yad’el inhaled deeply. The sons of God interbreeding with the daughters of mere mortal men! It suddenly became a very evil world.

And we saw the flood.

Yes, responded Yad’el, hence the judgment and the flood. A vital remnant of the Garden heirs—both human and animal—were preserved by the Creator and the remainder were purged from the system. Then a new set of rules were developed to guide the elect through the dark days ahead.

These days? asked the Traveler, peering around him.

Yad’el shook his head. We are much further down the human timeline from those events. Then, seemingly changing the subject, he added, Latris was to meet us here. He is overdue.

What can interfere with your kind? asked the Traveler, incredulously. He had never been aware of any restrictions on their apparently limitless power.

As I said, your kind emanates power that our kind can use here in this world. After Noll’s time, that ability to channel this energy slowly diffused amongst the entire human population, making it almost impossible for the enemy to control it.

But they tried! asserted the Traveler, suddenly recalling other lessons learned along the way. The star tower and Solon! The unbelievable old stories found in the ancient religious texts were falling into place—were they actually true?

Astaria and her faction of fallen angels tried to harness the whole of humanity at the star tower, uniting that enormous creative potential under a common yoke.

But they were going to assault heaven, added the Traveler, remembering the story. The mythology of his faith always pictured a spiraling minaret aimed at the stars. No tower could be built tall enough to do that!

"No physical tower, corrected his companion, but on a spiritual plane, Astaria could have focused a generation of creative power that might have breached the very gates of heaven."

So the tower was destroyed?

And the human voices were confused, communicable diseases introduced, and famines allowed that would further diffuse the Garden strain throughout humanity, concluded Yad’el.

And Solon?

Solon and Gamarra were Lethefro’s attempt to focus what power remained in an isolated portion of humanity by appealing to their appetites and licentiousness.

Memories of the surrounding desert—their physical isolation, the rebellion against the Biblosi king— their cultural isolation and the ubiquitous noise that made all thinking so difficult—the spiritual isolation—it all came cascading back to the Traveler’s thinking. He was there! He had fallen into that same trap at the Valley of Decision, along with Leth and his family. They all should have known better.

But Aravan, the human patriarch, and the kingdom of Daviki changed all that, asserted the Traveler, hopefully. The Chosen People—the Sons of the Earth—were in the ascendant at the end of the last adventure.

Yad’el looked sharply away, as though hearing an unfamiliar noise. The Traveler sensed his companion’s distress and clutched at his sleeve.

The Sons of the Earth! repeated Yad’el, thoughtfully. "Aptly named, because the promise preserved through the seed of Aravan will eventually become the fertile soil for all of redeemable humanity. They are a Chosen people, Traveler—destined to carry out the Garden promise to its inevitable conclusion. But you are wrong about Daviki and his kingdom."

Wrong?

More human mythology! What do the story of the star tower, Solon, and the human kingdom under Daviki all have in common? The companion held up his hand asking for silence, while listening intently to the passing wind.

It gave the Traveler a moment to consider the perplexing question. The star tower was the demonic attempt to harness humanity to their purposes—Solon was another attempt to isolate humanity from the truth. But Daviki’s kingdom was the King’s attempt to bring His sovereign kingdom to earth under the kingship of a human archetype. Astaria’s attempt failed in chaos, Solon was destroyed by cataclysm, while the King’s efforts had apparently succeeded, at least on some level. Once again, he envisioned the radiant rainbow bridge across the gulf of time and space, connecting the Creator’s Garden world with the magnificent temple built by King Suhlemah in this world. Jakobi’s ladder to another world! He felt the warm liquid gold of the highway to Siyon flowing around his feet, urging him to follow, extending past the altar of sacrifice to link with that fantastic bridge. Just as earnestly as when it first happened, his heart still yearned to travel that path. His absence from the Garden was so painful.

The Traveler glanced at his companion, but Yad’el was intent upon studying the surrounding darkness. The star tower, Solon, and Daviki’s kingdom? He tried to find some similarity between these stories, but there simply was none to be found. Perhaps it had something to do with the creative power that his companion was describing. Astaria tried to focus it and lost. Lethefro tried to distil it and lost. The Creator of the Garden, through Aravan, his son, Iscah, and his grandson, Jakobi, and their future lineage, had worked to preserve the noble line of humanity from the Garden. But there were problems! Aravan sired other children, most notably Ezmaiah, whose heirs became known as the Sons of the Wind. Promised a vast and eternal kingdom of his own, Ezmaiah’s inheritance never came to fruition. When their Unnamed God fought for the Sons of the Earth at Jerash many years later, some of the Sons of the Earth claimed an inheritance outside of the Promised Land of the Kannim, in land formerly deeded to Ezmaiah’s heirs. Corruption of the promises had begun. These cousins would fight forever about the Promised Land. But the lesser demonic gods did not fight for the Sons of the Wind. Jerash fell and the Kannim followed.

And then there was Rahal—that beautiful, leopard-faced priestess of a foreign religion at Jerash—grafted into the noble lineage being preserved by the Creator of the Garden. She was a pagan and a foreigner, yet still included, while other foreigners were being destroyed. It all made no sense. If there was some commonality to these stories, he could not see it.

Yad’el, we saw the temple and the highway to Siyon. They were actually built and succeeded, where Astaria and the rest of the demonic host had failed. A bridge between worlds! Surely, the King’s purposes cannot be thwarted?

His companion turned to face him, grasping him by the shoulders, but it was too dark to see the grim determination on his face. Their eyes met, glittering in the starlight, and he shook his head slowly. At this very moment in your human history, the Daviki kingdom is gone, Traveler, swept away by Jerebo’s rebellion and the works of the enemy. The temple you saw has been utterly destroyed. The Sons of the Earth have been killed, scattered, or led away into captivity in distant lands. The Kannim has returned to barbarism and idolatry. There are so few believers left in the plan that the enemy has established spiritual principalities over the entire planet. He hesitated, letting the impact of his words sink in. "These times are very dark. Even now, the prince of Persia …"

His voice trailed off and he spun around to face the darkness. Some sense alerted him to approaching danger. In that same moment, his flaming sword appeared in his right hand, radiating golden light around them. On his left arm suddenly appeared a shield whose surface radiated such a brilliant white light that none could look at it. Great gossamer plumage unfolded behind him, arching high and wide like eagle’s wings.

Arm yourself, he ordered sharply, shifting his balance to the balls of his feet, flexing his knees and stiffening his back, as though anticipating some imminent attack. It is a trap!

The Traveler was slow to react, failing to perceive any threat. He peered out at the darkness, trying to understand their predicament, but that was the wrong place to look for guidance. Thinking better of it, his gaze fell to his pendant about his neck. Beneath his chin, enfolding the pendant in a delicate embrace, was his shining breastplate made from the same ethereal white-golden metal. And upon the breastplate, centered like a cross upon his chest, was the hilt of his marvelous helical sword, its cold blue flaming blade only partially seen shimmering above the handle. The jewels in his pendant were glowing brightly. Strange, he thought, they only glowed so brightly when …

The very air around them exploded in a maelstrom of red hot flame. Yad’el’s body and enormous wings shielded him from the initial blow, but even the towering angelic presence staggered backwards under the magnitude of the surprise attack. The Traveler was shocked, gaping in awe.

His companion sprung into action, swinging his own sword in a vicious arc through the enveloping flames to smash against the shield of some unseen assailant. The Traveler glimpsed a snarling gargoyle face through the blaze. The force of his guardian’s blow changed the demon’s trajectory and he sailed away from the Traveler.

I need the King’s protection, gasped the startled man. Instantly, the breastplate became firm and solid upon his chest, and the ethereal sword sprang to his right hand. Now its blue flame surged outward with unfathomable power, growing to its full length. On his left arm was the large round shield, emblazoned with the rampant lion pouncing upon his enemies. His head was helmeted and his loins were girded with the leather belt that repeated the rampant lion motif on its central disk over his abdomen.

Stay behind me! shouted Yad’el, bringing his sword back in a reverse motion that deflected a jabbing thrust by a long spear that materialized through the bright wall of fire.

The Traveler raised his shield to his chin, turning his back to his companion, and facing outward. His eyes gradually adjusted to the startling brightness of the firestorm encompassing them after the abject darkness. They were ringed by flying gargoyles, hiding behind the fiery curtain, and spinning past them in a dizzying whirlwind. A fireball rocketed out of the night beyond the circle, exploding violently against his shield. Fiery shards flew everywhere. He staggered backwards.

No weapon fashioned against me shall prosper. The strange words had barely come to his lips, before a dazzling blue bolt erupted from his own sword and slashed through the surrounding firewall to impact on a gargoyle’s raised shield. The deafening percussion shattered the demon’s shield, as well as the bones in his left forearm. Dropping his own sword, the gargoyle howled in pain, cradled his shattered arm against his chest, and winked out of this existence.

A small fiery dart came winging out of the surrounding darkness and crashed against his helmet. Normally a lethal blow, he was saved by the King’s helmet upon his head. He heard a shriek of frustration beyond the firewall.

To the Traveler’s right, a massive berserker troll came charging through the bright screen, swinging a war hammer high above his head. He targeted Yad’el. In a flash of ethereal, golden feathers from the companion’s extended wing, the assailant momentarily lost track of his quarry. Blinded by the dazzling display before his eyes, the hammer swung wide and the leading edge of Yadel’s heavy shield slammed upward beneath the monster’s chin, knocking the troll backwards off his feet.

Another shriek of surprise from the attackers and a third assailant dropped to the ground. Struck from behind, the gargoyle writhed in pain, then disappeared from the battlefield. Latris, his missing ethereal companion, jumped through the surrounding firewall unscathed, then spun around to join their defensive position.

As suddenly as it had begun, the ferocious battle was over. The element of surprise was lost and the tide was suddenly turning against them—the demonic numbers were down by three. The Traveler could not be sure how many attackers had been there at the commencement of the attack, but the fiery curtain slowly dissipated and the surrounding darkness returned. All evidence of the demonic presence was mysteriously gone. He was breathing heavily and sweat beaded his brow.

The area immediately around the three victorious defenders remained illuminated by the light emanating from their own armor, weapons, and the golden wings of his two incredible companions. Once their safety was assured, Latris’ wings drooped noticeably and he collapsed to his knees, leaning heavily upon his own sword.

Latris, exclaimed Yad’el, rushing to his wounded comrade’s side. His own sword and shield disappeared in a sparkling instant, but his wings remained unfurled and illuminated the area in a protective crescent. Yad’el knelt beside the weakened companion, inspecting a long, jagged wound behind his companion’s left shoulder blade, nearly separating his muscles from the extended wing.

I would have been here sooner, grimaced Latris through the pain, but the enemy is so strong now that they detected my presence. He clasped Yad’el’s strong right forearm convulsively. You cannot go with him to Biblos.

We will get you to safety, then we will continue our mission to Biblos, objected Yad’el, firmly.

Latris shook his head slowly. The Counselor wants him to move on alone, confident in his mission. He turned to face the man, his face contorted in pain. You are the King’s ambassador, Traveler. Astaria will respect that. They believe they are winning this war and she may see you as a messenger from the King.

But I’m not! The Traveler gaped at the incomprehensible scene. The shattering realization that his marvelous companions could be wounded, or possibly defeated, and the brazen audacity of the enemy in attacking them confounded him. His companions were immortal, yet no one had ever suggested they were impervious to wounds. He understood the concept of their constant warfare with the rebellion, but it always seemed like a game without losses for the angelic host. Clearly, it was not so! And now Latris was suggesting he go on alone into the den of the enemy?

Choose life pilgrim, and the road will lie before you, said his messenger angel confidently with a brave smile. His intense pain overcame him and Latris collapsed unconscious into Yad’el’s strong embrace.

I must get him to safety, repeated Yad’el, suddenly faced with conflicting priorities, but to do that I must leave you here! The Traveler could see his consternation.

You can be…wounded?

Immortal, Traveler—not invulnerable, affirmed Yad’el, clearly thinking about the conflicting tasks lying before him. He fought his way here to deliver that message to us. We must trust and obey our orders.

I cannot possibly go on without you, exclaimed the Traveler, throwing his arms wide. The gesture made him aware of his armor and he consciously released it. The sword instantly returned to his breastplate and the shield disappeared from view. Moments later, the helmet and breastplate also disappeared, but the belt called Emeth remained firmly about his waist.

The belt means truth. It will protect you. They know you are here and they will have questions. Just be alert and focused—the days are evil.

Be alert? repeated the Traveler incredulously, gesturing at the surrounding darkness. We barely survived this attack together. What am I supposed to do alone?

The very same thing we do together—resist them—and they will flee!

They are not afraid of me!

Yad’el pulled the unconscious body of Latris to him, preparing to leave. "That is true—they do not fear you. But they do fear the One who sent you. Remember that fundamental truth, pilgrim! To oppose you is to oppose the King! He gestured with a nod of his head toward the right. Follow the river. There is a man awaiting a messenger from the King. He will be…surprised …to see you." Yad’el smiled confidently, trying to impart some of his own strength and confidence to the perplexed and fearful man.

The Traveler shook his head, rejecting the idea of proceeding into enemy territory alone. A man awaiting a messenger, but not me? What am I supposed to do with that information? He slapped his thighs in agitation. There was no response from his companion. Cold sweat trickled down his temple and his breathing was labored. Darkness all around him, the Traveler listened for a river. Nothing! He shivered involuntarily, the heat of the sudden battle now being exchanged for the chill of the night air.

You must release me to this new mission, Traveler, urged Yad’el, his jaw firmly set and his intense gaze fixed upon the man before him. My first priority is for your protection, but I must also follow the Counselor’s command. You must allow me to leave in order to save Latris from capture!

The Traveler wavered, unsure of himself, his mysterious authority over this traveling, and his own new mission. He could not imagine going on without Yad’el. And yet, the Counselor wanted it done and Latris had been horribly wounded in bringing him this vital message. Can we go back home?

Yad’el stared at him. If we leave Latris here, in this condition, he will fall into the hands of the enemy. That would be…very painful for him. His companion struggled for words. We cannot take him with us on our mission, for there would be no aid for him there, and the Counselor wants me to return. I cannot take you there! Either we leave Latris here or you proceed on your mission alone. The decision is yours!

Mine? wheezed the Traveler. Can I refuse?

Yad’el hugged his companion, using the pressure of his left hand to stem the loss of blood from the jagged wound. Every decision you make in life affects far more than you realize. It is never as simple as choosing what you want! Your very words can mean life and death. Choose life and believe in the plan, Traveler! Then obey it!

You will come find me once Latris is safe?

When it becomes possible, I will find you!

If it is possible? corrected the Traveler, desperately. What if it is not possible for you to find me?

Then the King will make a way, responded his companion, confidently. "He always does!" The Traveler stared into his companion’s unwavering brown eyes, searching for his own courage.

Then go, whispered the Traveler. His companion would never leave him of his own will, such was his loyalty and sense of duty, but he would follow orders. His companions had always told him that he directed these adventures, but he found that assertion very hard to believe. He was so ignorant, and powerless, and error-prone. Surely they were superior creatures—he should be taking orders from them.

I will come for you, affirmed his companion, as their images began to fade from view. Wherever you are—whenever you are—I will find you! A moment later, they were gone.

Chapter 3

The Traveler scanned the surrounding darkness, trying to get his bearings. Low, undulating hills and flat terrain gave him no reference point. If there was a river nearby, he had no way of finding it until the sun rose. Bright stars still glittered directly overhead and toward the west, but the eastern horizon was lined with a deep lavender hue, marking the arrival of another day in this forbidding world. The rest of his vision was impenetrable darkness.

How will you find me? he begged for assurance. I don’t even know where I am! he moaned. Correcting himself, he added sadly, "When I am!"

Dropping his head to study the ground before him, he carefully chose his path, as best as he could see it in the dark shadows, and headed off to the right. The area immediately around him was a rocky shoulder giving way to a tangle of dense foliage, opaque in the early morning twilight. He skirted it nervously, wary of the darkness and the glowing horizon.

Choose life? What kind of instruction was that for an ambassador of the King left deep inside enemy territory? The King’s enemies would surely find him and they would not be choosing life! He hugged his loose, woolen jerkin tightly against his body, conserving what warmth remained after the frantic battle. Hot sweat was turning to cold dampness, chilling him to the bone, the surge of adrenalin being replaced by a creeping apprehension about his uncertain future here on this timeline. The relative safety and predictability of his own time and place were gone. It appeared that his incredible supernatural companions were in full retreat here! Had the kingdom of Daviki, which had shown such promise near the end of his last adventure, been utterly swept away? King Suhlemah and his marvelous temple destroyed? It was incredible. And it all had something to do with Jerebo, the angry minotaur, and the rebellion he had inspired with the Sons of the Earth? There was so much to consider, but his thinking at this moment was fixated upon his own survival. There was no telling how many dangers surrounded him.

The coming of dawn promised greater visibility and warmth, but it also came with increased vulnerability and exposure. He searched the adjacent thicket as he walked, looking for a suitable club or staff. The magical sword upon his breastplate would only respond to the demonic enemies that might confront him, but what about mortal enemies…and the dangerous beasts that might be hiding in the brush? It was so hard to stay armed on these adventures! Nothing presented itself—these thickets were composed of willows, shrubbery, and short grasses—useless for his purposes. The growing hum of swarming insects waking to a new day broke the silence.

Low ground off to his right was getting soft and marshy, so he kept to the rocky shoulder, following it southward. The sun rising on his left was driving away the night shadows. As he watched, the eastern horizon was changing to a bright azure blue, shot through with rose hues. Despite the dangers presented by a new day, he welcomed the sun like another trusted companion. With the increased lighting, he could see much farther, but there was still no clue to his location or his place on the timeline. He was alone.

A sudden splash nearby—some startled creature jumping into the water—caused his heart to leap. He forced himself to calm down. The Counselor had need of him here, although he could not imagine why, and he had accepted this dangerous commission many years ago. There were times when he forgot about the risks involved in following the King. It meant so much more than merely good times, mountaintop experiences, and victory parades—sometimes it included difficult passages, low ground, and dangerous roads. He swatted at a mosquito biting his neck. Despite the King’s commission, he was still subject to the painful realities of life in this world. Mornings were still cold, empty stomachs were a gnawing nuisance, and the natural world was a dangerous place.

The first rays of sunshine breached the horizon and the world around him was suddenly revealed in dazzling yellow light. Just to his right, not a hundred yards away, was a broad and sluggish river—chocolate brown and silent, completely invisible to him in the darkness. Flotsam floated slowly southward down the middle of the river and each side was flanked by broad mudflats that were baking in the sun. Obviously, this river normally carried far more water. Had he turned in that direction, he would certainly have fallen into the mudflats. The great ambassador, he thought cynically, thrashing around in the mud. Insects rose in undulating swarms from the thickets lining the eastern shore, and a cacophony of bird calls filled the air. Life was beginning anew. The dank smell of swampy ground filled his nostrils and the sky continued its transformation to a warm, light blue clear to the far western horizon. The hills in the west, far beyond the river, were brown and golden in the morning sunlight.

A horse snorted nearby and shook its riding tack.

The Traveler crouched down instinctively, alarmed by the unexpected sounds so close by. He could still see nothing unusual. The rattle of riding gear meant domestication, and a horse out here meant a human owner. Was this the contact Yad’el had mentioned—or some hostile sentry? How was he to know? How was he to recognize friend from foe? How was he going to identify himself? The Traveler cursed under his breath about the slipshod nature of these missions and crept around the edge of the thicket.

There…on the highest ground in the area fifty yards further south…was a single-horse chariot highlighted against the brightening skyline. The animal was still in harness, patiently awaiting its next mission. No human being was to be seen. The Traveler considered skirting the area—no good, he was supposed to be meeting somebody. He considered sneaking up on the horse—also no good, he was no experienced woodsman or tracker—and the horse would surely sense his presence, if not see him coming. And its owner was surely somewhere nearby. The only available cover was moving deeper within the thicket adjacent to the river and that would be slower, noisier and far more uncomfortable. But he had learned a few things in his travels; he tested the wind. It was blowing gently in his face from the south; he would smell the horse before it smelled him. Steeling himself, the Traveler rose to a crouching walk and continued to approach the chariot carefully.

A dozen yards away, the horse finally noticed him and snorted a confrontation. Friend or foe? The Traveler straightened up and walked confidently toward the animal. The chariot harnessed behind him was a simple affair made from wicker, with large wooden wheels on a metal axle, and a light, wooden frame—basic high speed transportation in the ancient world. But when? He had seen war chariots before with a broader standing platform for two riders, and quivers built into the sides for holding arrows and javelins, but chariots had been used for thousands of years. This was not much of a clue. The handsome brown horse with black mane and leggings was tethered to a rock on the ground and had no other decorative gear. The Traveler surveyed the area, still seeing no signs of its owner. Tentatively, he approached the chariot.

Hello, he finally called out, choosing the language of the Sons of the Earth. Is anyone here? It was the last language he had used in the human kingdom at the end of his previous adventure, although he could recall no rivers like this one in that area of the world called the Kannim. If there was to be a confrontation, then he would be the one to begin it.

Sudden motion to his right brought him up short. An old man, well-dressed in a heavy flannel robe with a colorful golden filigree, was kneeling face down to the ground on a small blanket, facing the western horizon. His long white hair cascaded down around his human features. At the sound of the Traveler’s voice, he rocked slowly back onto his knees and looked around.

My lord? he called out anxiously, trying to focus old eyes and locate the source of the call.

No, explained the Traveler, walking in his direction. I am just a traveler who has lost my way.

The man turned to face him without rising from his knees. Sweeping his hair away from his face with wizened hands, his bright, brown eyes sparkled in the morning light. His full, white beard was dazzling. The Traveler had the rising sun behind him, so the man on the ground squinted in his direction.

Lost? I think not. There is no ford in the great river for an hour in either direction and you spoke to me in the tongue of my ancient ancestors. Surely you were sent here for me.

The Traveler swallowed hard. It is very difficult to explain my presence here. I am sure there is some purpose to it, but I do not know what that purpose is. Being sent, but not being informed about the destination nor very clear about the message. I am sorry if I startled you. The man was very old, and fully human, and spoke the same human language as the Sons of the Earth. This was all encouraging! The Traveler was reminded of Aravan the last time he had seen that old man, covered with blood and kneeling at the foot of the Valley of Sacrifice.

I was expecting someone else. The old man admitted his disappointment. I was praying for his safe arrival, explained the old man, cocking his head to one side. What tribe are you from?

Tribe? repeated the Traveler. He recalled that the Sons of the Earth were divided into twelve tribes and membership was very important to them. Seeing that he was also fully human, the man had guessed that he was one of them. I am sorry. I am not one of the Sons of the Earth.

Not! retorted the old man, incredulously. "That is nothing to be sorry about. And yet, you are fully human, calling out to me in our native tongue, lost in a strange land, and disturbing my prayers at dawn. What are you, then?"

The Traveler struggled for an answer. He glanced back at the bright sunshine over his shoulder, changing the topic. Don’t sun worshipers usually face toward the rising sun?

I do not worship the sun in the sky, responded the old man, cautiously. I come here by the river to get away from the city. I pray toward the Beautiful Land of my birth. I journey there in my mind when I pray. Where are you from?

I…do not have a home, stammered the Traveler, regarding the far mountains on the western horizon. It seems that my whole life has been spent on the road.

There are no roads here, responded the old man, incisively. He was mentally sharp, confident, and well-educated. The Traveler was at a complete loss for words to explain himself or his presence here. He shrugged his shoulders