“If you need me to prop you up, just say the word.”
Listener arrived and joined her line in the ice to the starting point. Her final push scattered ice over Lauren’s footprints. “That should do it.” She walked four steps into the garden, crouched, and waved her hand over a spot. “I think one of the plants was growing right about here.”
“I need to get closer,” Zohar said, “to ensure precision with my fire. I want to avoid accidentally hurting the plant.”
“I’ll help you.” Matt hooked his arm with Zohar’s and guided him to the spot.
Zohar knelt and set his palm close to the ice. His brow furrowed, and his white hair dropped like a curtain in front of his face. A ball of flames blossomed in the gap between his palm and the ice. Soon, a depression formed that spread steadily outward in a widening circle.
A slurry of water and ash pooled. As the depression sank, the water sank with it and seeped into exposed ground, leaving a film of gray ash on the darker soil. When the expanding circle revealed a splotch of green, Listener slid into the depression and brushed melting ice away from a thick stalk and two upright leaves about the size of her hands, posed in the usual praying position.
“I’ve got it.” Her hands trembled. “This one sprouted right after the lava overrode the area. It’ll be quite a while before it’s ready to give birth.”
“Maybe the fertilizer will speed it up,” Matt said.
“I hope not too much. We haven’t conducted the lottery to choose parents, and no Adam and Eve couples are able to take care of a baby right now.” Her face seemed to glow in the brightening sunlight. “If you and I were an Adam and Eve, we would be the only healthy candidates. That would be an exciting challenge, don’t you think?”
Warmth filtered into Matt’s cheeks. “Yeah. Exciting’s a good word.”
Listener’s smile widened, no sign that her allusion to marriage might or might not be a real hope in her mind. “Zohar,” she said. “Come. Let’s clear the area.”
With Matt’s help, Zohar eased down the sloping ice to ground level. He knelt again and concentrated his fire on the ice immediately around the plant. Soon, he had cleared a three-foot-wide circle.
Listener laid a hand on one of the praying leaves and set her ear close. After several seconds, her lower lip trembled. “I …” She swallowed. “I don’t hear anything. No heartbeat. No stirring.”
“But your hearing’s impaired,” Matt said. “Maybe it’s all right.”
“Let’s hope so.” Listener rose, her cheeks red. “Zohar, please warm the leaves directly, but don’t let the flames get too close.”
“Of course.” Zohar stepped toward the plant, but his legs gave way. Matt caught him and helped him sit. “That’s good,” Zohar said. “I can reach it from here.”
While Zohar cupped his fiery hands near the leaves, Matt and Listener stood side by side. The soil around the stalk absorbed water and ash, making the area spongy, but the plant showed no signs of change.
“What could be different?” Matt asked. “Between here and the vineyard, I mean.”
“I have no idea.” Listener folded her hands at her waist, her smile tight. “We must have faith. The Father of Lights wouldn’t raise children from the dead only to let them perish in Mardon’s ice storm. These wombs are sacred.”
Matt let her words sink in. They raised images of the abortion clinic—the dead baby in the bucket—wrapped in a plastic bag and left to rot. “In our world, babies die in the womb all the time. They get sliced to pieces and thrown away with the garbage.”
Listener stared into the sky, as if seeing something only her eyes could detect. “This isn’t your world, Matt. This is Second Eden. A second chance. A new hope for a better life. Your world hasn’t infected ours with its corruption, at least not in a lasting way.”
“I wonder if my world is still worth saving. We sure don’t deserve it.”
Listener turned toward him, her eyes bright and sharp. “Did you deserve saving, Matt?”
The question stabbed like a dagger. He broke eye contact and stuffed a hand into his pocket. “Definitely not.”
Listener laid a hand on his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Matt, don’t be ashamed. Your transformation is to be celebrated. And now I know how it feels. As I told you earlier, when my companion darkened on your world, I felt lost, without a guide. Void of pity or compassion, I shot a man, not caring for his life and soul. Afterward, guilt overwhelmed me. I begged for forgiveness, but I found no solace for my heavy heart. I asked my companion how to find mercy, but she didn’t know. Companions are not equipped to deal with corrupted souls, and such my soul had become. But while we were in Abaddon’s Lair, I read a story in the resurrection book, the story of the greatest of all resurrections.”
Matt dared not look away. Her eyes were like fiery magnets. “So that’s what you were reading. I’m sorry I interrupted.”
“No. It’s fine. I finished it.” Listener grasped his wrist. “I had heard the story of Jesus before. It didn’t apply to me then, since I had never offended the Father of Lights. But this time the story shone light into my darkened soul. Then when the waters of resurrection flooded the chamber, they washed over my soul as well. My companion transformed into a shining beacon and penetrated my bosom, straight to my heart. At first, I thought it was just a vision. It took a while for the reality to set in.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Matt, I was born anew, and I like this condition better than that of my first birth. Now the light shines within instead of hovering around me like a foreign satellite. The Father of Lights speaks to my heart instead of to my ears. I am a new kind of Listener, one of spirit, closer to the Father of Lights than ever before.”
Matt drank in her beautiful words. She was so real, so honest. No girl on Earth ever spoke with such sincerity. “Something like that happened to me. Religion just didn’t click. But when my mother told me about faith, it was different, like God spoke through her. Then when I stopped hating Darcy, it all came together. I never had a companion like you did, but I feel different. Like you said, it’s a lot better this way.”
“Matt, I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that. Maybe now you and I can—”
“I don’t think it’s working,” Zohar said as he turned toward Matt and Listener.
“Let me check.” Listener leaned close to the plant again. “I still hear nothing.”
Matt resisted the urge to heave a sigh. It sounded like Listener was about to say something really important, but that conversation would have to wait. “Let me think.” He looked toward the vineyard and mentally reconstructed the elements—soil, water from ice melt, and fertilizing ash. What were they missing?
Well beyond the vineyard, a plume of dark smoke rose in front of a mountain. Matt pointed. “It looks like a fire.”
Listener nodded. “That’s the portal area. I saw it earlier. It was burning when we left Peace Village. I asked Karrick to check on it, remember?”
“I remember.” Matt imagined ice melting at the base of the rising cloud. That picture raised reminders of the fire in the vineyard—burning logs that crackled on the newly exposed soil. He snapped his fingers. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“Heat. The vines grew when the fire added heat to the soil. Zohar warmed the plant but not the soil itself.”
“I will give it a try.” Zohar created a ball of fire in each hand and spilled the flames over the dirt around the stem.
Water sizzled and popped. The smell of ammonia rose and stung Matt’s eyes. He rubbed the pain away. If the heat worked, they might have quite an eruption to deal with.
“Let’s play it safe.” He took hold of Listener’s wrist on one side and Zohar’s on the other and guided them back.
Within seconds, the plant stretched upward, and the stalk thickened. The praying leaves opened, but no baby appeared, only a round object that looked like a brown gourd.
&
nbsp; Matt looked at Listener. “Has that ever happened before?”
“No.” Her brow furrowed tightly. “Never.”
As the plant grew taller, the stalk split in two, like a tree with twin trunks. The praying leaves stretched out to the side and curled up like scrolls. Knobs with fingerlike appendages grew at the ends. The gourd, now a foot higher than Matt’s head, sprouted hair, and humanlike facial features took shape at the front.
“This person is huge.” Matt pulled them farther back. “We should be ready to get out of here.”
“No,” Zohar said. “It’s Mendallah! I have known her for centuries, and she will help us. She is a giant.”
“A giant?” Matt stepped closer again. The lower part of one trunk bent at a joint and uprooted, revealing a dark bare foot, then the other trunk did the same. Above where the trunks joined, the main stalk took on the curves and muscular bulges of a powerful woman. Tiny leaves sprouted all across the stalk and the prayer leaves, then immediately transformed into pieces of cloth that stitched themselves together into a sleeved tunic that reached to her elbows. Trousers formed as well, covering her legs down to her knees.
A few seconds later, the former plant looked like a storybook giant, a female version with sepia skin and long hair. After fluttering her eyelids, she spoke with a quiet voice—deep, though feminine. “Zohar? Is that you?”
Zohar nodded and reached up with both hands. “My friend!”
Mendallah picked him up and embraced him. About nine feet tall, she looked like a weight-lifting mom hugging a toddler. After the two exchanged kisses, she set him down and glanced from side to side. “Where am I? How did I get here?”
Listener took Mendallah’s hand, her head below Mendallah’s shoulders. “It’s a long story.”
For the next few minutes, Matt, Listener, and Zohar took turns telling Mendallah about the events that had taken place in recent times until she seemed satisfied with the account, though no one knew how she had died. Zohar guessed that the green ovulum, with himself and Mendallah trapped inside, met its demise during one of the many battles.
“So …” Listener swept an arm across the garden. “Let’s get to work clearing the rest of the ice. The babies need warmth, or perhaps we will uncover another ally.”
“I doubt it,” Matt said. “There’s only one statue unaccounted for, so it must have held Mendallah’s soul.”
Listener shook her head. “Mendallah’s plant was already here when we saw the statue in Abaddon’s Lair. I don’t see how it could have held her soul.”
“Good point.” Matt stooped and dug a hand into the ice. “Let’s get to work.”
“When we warm the soil, the plants might give birth, so we have to stay here.” Listener turned toward her village. “We can get blankets from my hut to take care of the babies. With our portal beacon burning, maybe Elam and Sapphira will be back soon, and we can get them up to date when they arrive.”
Mendallah raised a hand. “If I may offer a suggestion, leave the melting to Zohar and me. I will carry him around the garden. The two of you will then be free to travel to the mountain portal to welcome Elam and Sapphira. It is urgent that you inform them of the situation as soon as possible. The plight of the Second Edeners is of utmost importance.”
“I like that idea,” Matt said. “It’s the best use of our resources.”
Listener rubbed Mendallah’s forearm. “We accept your offer. We’ll leave the food and water with you and Zohar.” She turned toward Matt. “We’ll pick up some weapons at our cache in the enclave. We have to be ready with firepower in case the portal opens to hostile forces.”
He gave her a smile. “I like the way you think.”
“The way I think?” Her face flushing, she bowed her head. “Thank you. That is the kindest compliment I could ever hope for.”
“You’re welcome.” New warmth rose into Matt’s cheeks. The compliment was meant to be a casual quip, yet she took it to heart, which was fine. She really did think in a cool way. “Just to explain, planning to get weapons means you want to be prepared, and you’re not afraid of guns. I like that. Most girls are scared of them.”
One of Listener’s eyebrows lifted. “There is no need to sweeten fresh water, Matt Bannister.”
“Sweeten …” He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“It is an idiom we have here, but if I explain it, it would lose some of its value.”
“Okay. I’ll work on it.” The warmth spread to Matt’s ears. “Ready to go?”
“Ready.” Listener slid her hand into his. They exited the garden and looked toward the higher elevations to the south. Ahead lay miles and miles of ice—a dirty sheet that might conceal a hundred holes or other snares. Still hand in hand, they trudged across the frozen expanse through Founder’s Village and its ice-covered huts.
A sense of danger boiled in Matt’s gut. He scanned the evening sky. Nothing out there so far, but soon it would become too dark to watch for approaching enemies. As they walked by a hut, he leaned to look around it. Again, nothing.
When they passed the final hut, someone called from behind. “Listener! Matt!”
They turned. A man ran from the direction of the birthing garden. Dressed in Second Eden garb and wearing a sword in a belt scabbard, he looked familiar.
Listener gasped. “Valiant?”
* * *
“An alarm?” Merlin held a hand under Sir Barlow’s and looked into the ovulum. “What do you see?”
“Someone has joined Matt and Listener. The display is small, but he looks like Valiant.”
Lauren peered at the image. “But Valiant is dead. Could the birthing garden have resurrected him?”
Merlin ran a hand through his beard. “Not unless he was in the lair before Abaddon departed.”
“Abaddon kept souls inside statues, and there was one statue left in the lair.” Lauren fingered the medallion through her shirt. “I thought it held Eagle’s soul.”
“What gave you that impression?”
Lauren lifted one of the necklaces, revealing Eagle’s medallion. “He gave this to me.” She turned it to its inscription side and read it out loud. “My gift to you. My life. It is all I have to give.” As tears welled, she lowered the medallion. “Eagle took my place diving into Mount Elijah. He was sacrificial. Couldn’t God use his resurrection to stir the life reservoir?”
“My understanding is that Valiant was also sacrificial, so we need to consider the possibility that you are mistaken.” Merlin looked at her with piercing eyes. “Considering the medallion’s message, is it possible that emotions are playing into your conclusions?”
“Well … I …” She exhaled and nodded. “Yes, it’s possible.”
“Good, but do not yet throw away your idea. Who are we to assume that God has only one way to work his resurrection miracles?” Merlin pointed at Lauren’s neck. “When you lifted the medallion, I caught a glimpse of something else. What was it?”
“A couple of things.” She lifted the chain again and exposed the attached key ring. The key shimmered for a moment and disappeared. With another finger, she lifted a beaded necklace. “My mother wore this when she resurrected, and the key opened the seventh door.”
Merlin drew his finger close. “May I?”
When she nodded, he slid his finger under the necklace. “I know this story. These beads came from Shiloh’s plant in the sixth circle. They created a regeneracy dome around your mother, energized by Excalibur’s beam. And the key …” He pinched it between thumb and index finger, making it visible. “I’m not sure what the key can do. I will have to ponder it.”
“Can the beads do anything now?”
“Almost certainly. In fact, they might be the very reason you were called to come to this place. Yet, since I am not sure, we might have to make a few educated guesses.” Merlin released the key, sat on the icy floor, and patted the space at his side. “Join me for a brainstorming session.”
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nbsp; Lauren settled next to him in a cross-legged pose. “I’m ready.”
“Then let us begin. Brainstorming is best accomplished when we toss ideas back and forth without taking time to ponder deeply. If my idea lacks merit, you tell me why or else build upon it to make a better idea, and I will do the same for you. Remember, respond quickly. No need to even take a breath. This is not philosophical chess.”
“Okay.” Cold filtered through Lauren’s pants. Now would be a good time to wear the yoke, but getting it would delay this step. She shifted to a crouch. “Let’s do it.”
“Very well. You start.”
“Me?” She shrugged. “Okay, I’ll try.” She touched the chain that held the key. “Matt told me that the key to the seventh door is a combination of six other keys. They represent virtues.”
“A key made of virtues should be able to unlock many doors. Perhaps a way of escape?”
“And the three of us want to escape this realm.”
“But we cannot escape yet,” Merlin said. “We must first release the life energy to its proper place.”
“Where is the proper place?”
“I do not yet know. I am merely the guardian, not the one who releases the energy. That was supposed to be you.”
“Okay, okay. But what can release it?”
“Since the reservoir is sealed by ice, I assume a great deal of warmth will be necessary.”
Lauren lifted the necklace. “What about the beads? You mentioned a …” She squinted. “A regeneracy dome?”
“Correct. The dome is a method to release energy for restoration and resurrection, but we need an energizing source such as an Oracle’s fire or Excalibur’s beam. They are not available.”
“Then we make one of them available. We bring someone in here who has Excalibur.”
“You are a Listener. Perhaps you can hear someone respond if you shout through the portal barrier, but I don’t think anyone can hear you.”
“Well … I could … I could …” She slapped her hand against the floor. “I could dream about someone!”
Merlin inhaled to reply, then cocked his head. “Dream about someone?”