An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (25 page)

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell the councilman the content of this visit. He’s not exactly the type I’d want aware of the
Mea’s
existence.”

“The
Mea?
” Milcom pointed to the blue ball. “Oh, very well, Lord.”

Milcom turned to go, strolling back to the place from which he’d appeared. Candlelight glistened brilliantly from his body as he neared the lamp, throwing prismatic reflections across the ceiling.

“Lord?” Adom said in a voice smaller than he’d intended. “Am I doing all right? I try so hard to do your will, but sometimes I feel so stupid and inadequate.”

“You’re doing fine.” Milcom watched him through bittersweet amber eyes, and Adom felt as though that look hid a wealth of pain. “Just keep being yourself. Never forget that the light of salvation shines through the hurt eyes of everyone around you. Love everyone, teach everyone, and remember God.”

“And you’ll take care of us?”

Milcom nodded seriously. “I’ll do my best, Adom.” Bringing the hood of his viridian velvet cloak back over his head, he held up his crystalline hands and mumbled something soft, inaudible. A whirling blackness appeared in the stone wall, like a gaping hole in time and space, and he stepped through into the roiling darkness beyond.

CHAPTER 14

Woe, Woe, good people … He has upon his forehead three letters: A K T. And he will reign for three years. And in his first year, all the grass upon the earth will fail. Then there will be a mighty plague…. People will be calling upon death and digging up tombs and saying, “Blessed and thrice blessed are you who have already died, because you did not reach these days.”

The Greek Apocalypse of Daniel

Date: 800 A.D. Old Earth Standard

Rachel and Sybil struggled up the steep path weaving the dark mountainside. Huge boulders were scattered along the slope in an avalanche of monstrous wind-sculpted statues. Frosted by starlight, the slope seemed a ruined garden of the gods; upraised fists and angry Promethean faces threatened in muted defiance, their raging expressions long quieted by the sand storms of Horeb.

“Mommy?” Sybil panted. “Help me?”

Rachel turned to see her daughter tugging futilely at the tattered hem of her blue robe. Seized in the stubborn arms of a thornbush, the fabric refused to come loose. A dense tangle of underbrush sprouted from every crack in the rocks. Darkness made avoiding the prickly traps nearly impossible.

“I’m coming, baby.” Tiredly, she worked her way back down the steep path. She gripped her daughter’s hem and jerked hard. The sound of shredding fabric seemed to shriek in the silence. A fluttering ribbon of blue clung to the branch.

Sybil brushed tangled brown curls from her eyes, and looked up, dirty face drawn with exhaustion. “Thank you, Mommy. Let’s go, I’m sorry I—”

“Sybil?” Knees shaking from weariness, Rachel braced a hand against a rock face and let the desert winds caress her. “Let’s just stand here for a minute.”

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“Yes, I just need to rest.”

“Maybe I could go a little farther up the path? I can climb some more.”

Her daughter wiped a sleeve under her running nose and straightened her back. In the starlight, her eyes shone gray-blue as though frosted with steel dust. The small pack of food on her back jiggled with each sluggish move.
My poor baby. You want to keep climbing because the terror inside won’t let you stop until we’re safe. Dear God, the horror you’ve suffered. Will you ever be able to live normally again after mis? Will the scars in your mind ever heal?

“Just go a little farther, Sybil. Don’t get out of my sight.”

“I won’t.” The girl plodded upward, patting Rachel’s leg as she passed.

Rachel fell tiredly against the boulder. Her own small pack pulled miserably at her shoulders. Her gaze drifted back toward Seir. Only a tiny slice of the city stood visible beyond the towering boulders, lights glimmering through a haze of dust.

“Mashiah, are you coming?” she demanded quietly, fear tightening her breast.

Overhead, a meteor streaked the night skies, leaving a luminous trail of silver above the mountain peaks. She blinked, shaking her head, sure she’d seen it veer erratically. A ship? But it vanished before she could look again. In the brush, a bushbob sawed, the insect’s song like a rusty hinge in the breeze. She listened for a time, letting the sound sink into her tormented soul.

“Adom … damn you. Just let us go.” But she knew he wouldn’t. She
had
to keep moving. Even now the
samaels
might be leaving Seir in search of them—if they hadn’t already. She turned and started up the path again, feet thudding heavily against the stone.

“Sybil? Where are you?”

“I’m right here. On this rock.”

“Where? I can’t see you.”

“Over here.”

Rachel squinted through the darkness, but couldn’t spot her. Digging fingers into crevices in the rocks, she used the stones to help lever her weary body up the slope. When she came to the curve, she found Sybil lying curled in a ball on a flat slab of red sandstone. She lifted her head weakly, looking bitterly fatigued. Rachel’s soul shriveled at the sight. How much longer could the child keep going at this pace?

“Where are the caves, Mommy?”

“Not very far. Maybe another mile.”

“Is that path straight up, too?”

“Yes, baby, I’m afraid so. Do you …” Rachel vacillated, tormenting herself inside. Sybil desperately needed sleep, and so did she, but could they afford it? “Do you want to nap a little while?”

“No, Mommy. We can’t rest. The Mashiah might find us and kill us.” Sybil started to slide down off the rock, her legs trembling.

“Stay there, sweetheart. We’ll take just a few minutes to catch our breath. I think we’ll be safe.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Why don’t—”

“Let me do the thinking. I’m four times as old as you.”

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter,” her daughter said skeptically, cocking her young head in a birdlike gesture that made Rachel smile.

“Trust me this time.”

Sybil bit her lower lip, dropping her gaze to stare uncomfortably at the red sandstone beneath her legs. “You won’t go anywhere?”

“No, I’ll stay right here beside you.”

“You won’t let the Mashiah get me?” A tremor shook her voice.

“Never. You rest, Sybil.”

“Maybe … maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a little while.”

“You do that. I’ll keep watch.”

Rachel slumped to sit on the edge of the slab and folded her dirty hands in her lap. Her peach robe hung in rags, the remaining opal beads reflecting the starglow in irregular patterns. Her waist-length hair draped over her shoulders in matted tangles.

She let her eyes rest on Sybil. The silver light etched a soft line around the child’s pointed chin. Rachel wanted to reach out and touch her lovingly, but feared disturbing her desperately needed respite.

“Shadrach, Shadrach …” she whispered barely audibly, drawing strength from his name, as though he could still hear the plea and sense her love and need for him. “We tried, didn’t we? But we failed. The old ways we cherished are gone forever. No one cares anymore. Forgive me … forgive me for not going back to look for you. I was afraid Sybil might be caught in the fire.”

A brisk gust whistled up the path and she closed her blurred eyes, feeling the sting of wind-whipped sand against her face. In her mind, she heard Shadrach telling her she’d done the right thing, the only thing she could. She’d saved their child. Faintly, overhead, she thought she heard the whoosh of wings in the darkness. Night birds?

Absently, she looked up and froze.

Flying slowly over the path, the ship mocked a creeping beetle. Blacker than the darkness itself, the
samael
edged forward, blotting the stars as it came.

Fear choked her. She reached out a quaking hand to gently shake her daughter.

“Is it time, Mom—”

“Shh!”

“What?” Sybil whispered in terror, lying rigidly still.

“They’ve come.” With her chin, Rachel pointed to the hovering craft. Sybil remained motionless. As the
samael
closed, they heard its hiss over the murmur of the wind. The marines must have been examining every crevice, heat and movement sensors on narrow beam, otherwise they’d have already spied them.

“We still have a chance,” she muttered frantically. “Sybil, very slowly, I want you to slide down this slab and find a hollow in the rocks. Like a small cave beneath a boulder. If they catch me, you run so hard you can’t breathe!”

“No, Mommy, I want you to—”

“Don’t sass me now. Go!”

She heard sand scritch as Sybil slipped down the other side. A soft patter of feet sounded as the little girl retreated.

Rachel sat perfectly still, giving Sybil time to conceal herself before she tried escaping in the opposite direction. If she could draw them far enough away, Sybil might escape.

Rachel licked dry lips, watching the craft for a few moments longer, trying to force her stunned mind to think. The first moon rose in the distance. A timid sliver of white, it silhouetted the dark jagged peaks and splashed the land with a watery carpet of silver. The shadows of towering boulders stretched long fingers to chill her. Frantically, she searched the rocky terrain with her eyes, jumping when a large rock flew out of nowhere to slam a boulder fifty feet away. The
samael
changed direction suddenly, one side gleaming like polished pewter in the moonlight as it turned, veering off the path to check the movement it had sensed.

Rachel heard a faint whisper behind her, a deep masculine voice ordering, “Quickly, swing your legs over the edge and drop down to the path. There’s a narrow crawl space between the rocks that leads to the left. Take it.”

“Who—”

“Do it!”

Fear knotted in her stomach.
One of the Mashiah’s men?
She hadn’t the time to wonder about it. She slid to the ground, found the tiny tunnel beneath the cascade of rocks and slithered through on her stomach. Scents of dried grass and rodent dung stung her nostrils. Middens of twigs, dried berries and oddly shaped rocks formed nests at the bases of the boulders. Dust swirled, lodging in her lungs as she scrambled. The overwhelming urge to cough struck her. She forced it down, feeling like her chest would explode. When she slid out the other side, she saw Sybil crouched next to a tall blond with a reddish beard. Moonshine penetrated the shelter, flashing from their faces. The man had a straight nose and delicate cheekbones. His eyes caught and held hers. Piercing, they were unsettlingly blue. His black suit accented broad shoulders, narrowing to a trim muscular waist. He expertly pointed a pistol at her head.

“If you don’t mind me asking, whose side are you on? I assume you’re fleeing the Mashiah?” he whispered as his eyes searched the starry sky visible through a slender crack above.

She nodded, afraid to talk lest the cough burst out.

“Good, follow me.” He lowered the pistol and got down on hands and knees, leading them through a series of narrow tunnels which widened into a tiny rounded cave. Complete darkness enveloped them and she buried her face in the folds of her robe and coughed desperately. Rachel heard the stranger lean back and she gripped Sybil’s arm, pulling her against the cool wall with her.

They sat in silence for over an hour, listening to each other’s breathing, before he finally spoke. “Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.” A scuffling of boots sounded as he crawled over the stone floor.

“It’s all right, baby.” Rachel pulled Sybil closer, stroking her dirty hair.

“Who’s he, Mommy?”

“I don’t know, but let’s be quiet for a little while longer, all right.”

Sybil nodded and stretched out on the floor, putting her head in Rachel’s lap. It seemed only seconds before her daughter’s breathing changed to the deep rhythms of sleep. Exhausted herself, she leaned her head back against the gritty surface of the wall and tenderly patted Sybil’s leg, letting her thoughts drift. Who could he be? From his single question and the way he’d pointed the gun at her head until she’d answered correctly, he
apparently
wasn’t part of the Mashiah’s forces. She’d never seen him in Seir. A man of his good looks and obvious competence drew attention. Could he be from another part of Horeb? Tiny villages scattered the deserts but such nomadic groups usually scorned the city. And he didn’t seem the type to be an average herder. An off-worlder? Why would someone from another planet who knew of the Mashiah and
opposed
him come here? Many who supported Adom had flocked to Horeb over the past three years, but their reasons were obvious: they longed to be near the blessed Redeemer. In these troubled times, everyone sought salvation. But this man was different, his presence a mystery, and all mysteries frightened Rachel. She bounced so many possibilities around her head that by the time he returned, perhaps a half hour later, a deep mistrust filled her breast.

“I think we’re safe for now,” he whispered. A rasping sounded as he dragged something across the floor and in a few seconds light flared. Rachel jerked as the palm-sized lustreglobe cast a stark white glow over the ceiling and walls. A velvet thick layer of soot covered the roof, proving they weren’t the first people to take refuge here. In the center of the floor, a tiny pile of rocks marked the spot of dozens of fires.