few seconds, letters began to appear, slowly at first, then faster.
Ashley read them out loud. “I have not heard from Walter, but since the media reports indicate a power grid failure, I suggest that you find a nearby power plant. Even if Walter has not gone there, perhaps you can learn what is causing the crisis.” She scanned the horizon for smokestacks. “Can you tell us where the closest one is?”
More letters lined up across the screen. “I do not have that data stored locally, and my Internet access is down. May I suggest following the power lines to their source?”
Ashley groaned. “They might lead to a transfer station, not a power plant. It could take hours to trace the source.”
“How about the tracks?” Karen said, pointing at the ground. “They might not go very far, but at least we’ll get started in the right direction.”
“True, but then what? We’ll be back to searching for power lines.”
Roxil swung her head toward her riders. “Your discussion is becoming tedious. Shall we follow the tracks or not?”
Ashley nodded. “Let’s go. It’s worth a try.”
With a gust of wind and a spray of water droplets, Roxil launched into the air again, this time with a more gentle angle. Following the footprints, they soon crossed the line of trees, and the trail was quickly obscured.
Roxil turned on her eyebeams and scanned the leaf-strewn slope. “I see only an odd imprint every once in a while, as if someone has intentionally scarred the ground.”
“Follow it, Roxil!” Ashley yelled.
Fanning out her wings, she descended to a lower flight level, staying just above the treetops. “Easily done. The marks are quite consistent.”
Ashley clenched her fist. “Good ol’ Walter,” she said with a sigh. “He remembered.”
Roxil huffed a blast of flames. “It is time to fry some giants!”
With Naamah grasping Elam’s shoulders, Dikaios galloped along the path, his stride so fast and smooth, they seemed to glide. Only a few bumps and the horse’s heavy breathing reminded them that a powerful animal carried them across the Bridgelands. The storm clouds racing behind them lost ground as the amazing creature tore across grassy meadows, leaped over small ponds, and scaled steep hogbacks as if they were tapered hillocks.
As they reached the top of a rocky ridge, Dikaios slowed to a trot, allowing his riders a moment to take in the scene before them. Pristine grasslands stretched out for miles with lush trees surrounding dozens of pools that dotted the verdant canvas, like sparkling sapphires inlaid on green velvet.
Elam whistled. “If this is just Heaven’s front porch, I wonder what it looks like inside!”
Naamah gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and whispered, “This is what Eden must have been like before the fall.”
“Words are inadequate to describe the inner beauty,” Dikaios said. “I am but a servant of the groom and have been invited inside but once. My single visit was enough to keep the vision of perfection forever imprinted in my mind. My one desire in life is for the promised day to come when I will take my master back to the Earth to do battle against the wicked. After his conquest, I will carry him inside the gate of pearls where the grass is far greener and more delicious, the air is never polluted by the odor of death, and my master shines a light that never sets or is veiled by clouds.” Dikaios turned back to Elam, blinking away tears. “Then I will stay with my master forever.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Elam said, patting the horse’s neck. “How much farther to the shield?”
“Do you see the horizon ahead, where the blue touches the grass like a curtain draped across a stage? It stretches from the plunging cliff on the left to the matching cliff on the right.”
Elam shaded his eyes with his hand. “I see it.”
“The blue backdrop is not sky. That is the door to the altar, Heaven’s shield.”
“The sky is actually the shield?”
“And the eastern horizon is the passage.” Dikaios looked back at the gaining storm clouds. “Let us go. We will be there very soon.”
Dikaios began with a trot, then accelerated into a full gallop. As he ran, the sky in the distance seemed to get bigger and bigger, as if it had become a painting that someone carried closer and closer every second. Finally, he stopped at a point where the grass ended at a line of blue, appearing as a cliff that plunged into nothingness.