A Golden Calf

“How dense were these people? They had just walked through the red sea on dry land after seeing a mini-apocalypse in Egypt, and now they’re worshiping idols?” So the rant went—on and on, filled with a supposedly righteous anger, furiously condemning the Israelites of the Exodus. The presupposition was obvious: I would never have done that if I were them! I know what that speaker was assuming, for she was me. By God’s grace, I have grown older and a little wiser since then, and, with that maturing has come a realization: human nature is unchanged. We, even we who know Christ, remain prone to the same spiritual amnesia that the children of Israel exhibited in the Exodus era. There are many incidents that exhibit Israel’s sin and parallel our own, but I will focus on one. The golden calf the Israelites fell before was the first great sin of the newly liberated Israelites, and there were many facets to that transgression. Many of these aspects feel uncomfortably familiar to our day to day attitudes.
The first verse of Exodus 32 tells us how this sin began; it started with an impatient people. Moses was taking his time up on the mountain, and the restless tribes grew tired of waiting for God. They had seen Him work in the past, but it had been some time. The smoking, blazing mountain had become a common sight, and they had ceased to tremble before the sight. We Christians often fall into this same sin. The original joy of salvation slowly fades and answered prayer become a distant memory, not because God is no longer answering, but because we have ceased to pray. The blazing mountain of daily outpourings of common and special grace become so mundane we no longer even see them. And how do we respond to this dullness? How did the Israelites respond?
“Make us gods who shall go before us!” Ah, but I have never made such a demand—have I? Have you? Why do heretical books like Jesus Calling and The Shack fly off the shelves in Christian book stores? The church has determined that they need another—or a better—edition of Christ. Make us gods—Christ, the Christ of the gospel, has become inadequate. The Bible feels antiquated, and we demand more, and by more, we mean other. If we wanted more, we would dive into the Word, but we seek a god more suited to our lifestyle. In our impatience, we demand a god who will work in our time-frame.
Having expressed their desire for another god, they proceeded in their sin by making themselves one. Their chosen god was a calf—a popular object of worship in the godless culture of Egypt which they had been so miraculously freed from only a short time before. Once it was built, Aaron spoke these damning words: “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt!” After creating their own god, a god to suit their tastes, they ascribe to that abomination the name of Yahweh (see Exodus 32:5). This is pure blasphemy. This is modern Christianity. The pseudo Christian self-esteem movement is a prime example. We take the god of our culture—the god of self—and fall before it, claiming that we are worshipping Yahweh. Some have audacity to say that Jesus’s sacrifice made a statement of our personal worth; the glory of Christ is traded in for the glory of self. Many of us who look with scorn and hatred on the self-esteem movement still trade Christ for an idol in other areas. This is why the vast majority of our modern worship are centred on man. This is why modern Bible studies encourage us to twist Scripture to suit our desires. The God we claim to worship has been replaced with the golden calf of self.
The final sin there at the foot of Sinai that dark day was committed by Aaron as he made excuses for his own part in the business. Blame-shifting is the oldest sin in history, and it is alive and well in the church today. It is a temptation at this moment as I write this paper. I long to point the finger at culture or “mainstream Christianity” as I speak of self-worship and impatience, while the finger of God points back at me, asking the piercing question, “What have you done?” To accept the guilt of our own sin is a constant struggle. Aaron failed, and so do we. But this leads into my final point.
There is one very notable difference between us and Israel at this point. When Israel sinned, God’s just wrath descended, leaving three thousand corpses in the camp of Israel. Moses interceded for them, but Moses was a mere man, and, upon seeing the people’s sin, his plea for mercy turned to fury. When we sin, where is the wrath? Though we treasure selfish idols, we are not obliterated. Why? It comes down to the intercessor: Israel had a fallen man, but our intercessor is the perfect Great High Priest. Jesus Christ has absorbed the wrath we have earned and continue to deserve as we stumble and backslide, so there is no wrath left. There is no condemnation. Israel was under law—the very beginning of the law—but we are under grace. Praise be to God for His great grace in our great sin!

Chapter 18

"Dropped or lost, we've no time to search for them--what use will those scraps of paper be to us when Elni is in flames?" Eldan seemed unconvinced, so Aevin went on. "I will not stop you if you want to go after them, but you know safety is found in groups. I am asking you to come with us to Elni."

                "And I'm coming." Eldan replied at length, casting a rueful glance back at the bushes. She shouldered her crossbow and started forward. Aevin followed while Kalen rushed to pull together his gear before they were out of sight. That girl could set a hard pace.

                She strode along in stony silence. Kalen had never known what to do when Syriel was angry, and Eldan was even worse. Never make a girl mad. He determined to make it a rule of his life. Aevin, on the other hand, was in the best of spirits. He effortlessly kept pace with Eldan, smiling broadly and pausing to make cheerful remarks about the birds songs or the beauty of the forest. Excessive optimism used to grate on him, but somehow, coming from Aevin, it put Kalen at ease.

                "Tell me about the mountains, Kalen. What was it like growing up in their shadow?" Aevin had to repeat himself twice before Kalen realized he was being addressed.

                "Well, it's..." Kalen had never given the mountains any thought. They were just a part of life in Elni. "It's shadowy. The sun sets early, and the winters are very cold. The soil is shallow and difficult to farm on the south side of Elni."

                "I suppose all beauty comes with a price. One can marvel at the sun on the leaves of the Dinab, but I would not raise a family with the wild beasts found here. With all beauty, you must determine if it is worth the cost, wouldn't you agree?"

                "I supposed so." Kalen's attention was more focused on the branches trying to slap him in  the face than Aevin's musings. "How far are we from Elni?"

                "Nearly three days still. We're near Terraphel, so we will need to go a little out of our way if we would avoid their scouts."

               

                Eldan dropped without a sound. For a moment, Kalen thought she'd fainted, but the Aevin pulled him down to join them in the underbrush. The dark, seamless stone walls of Terraphel could just be seen through a gap in the bushes.

                "Someone's been busy." Kalen followed Aevin's eyes. He could just see the legs of the horses, row upon row, trudging out of the gate on overgrown, cracked hooves. A cavalry--poorly kempt, but impressive in size. Since when had Fellyre used horses in war? They were foot soldiers--they always had been and always would be. Not only would this cavalry make them more formidable, but--

                "We can't outdistance that. They'll be at Elni by dawn tomorrow." Eldan's tone was flat. "We've failed."

                "Ever stolen a horse?" Aevin rose to a crouch, taking a careful step forward. "We'll have to ride hard, but it is the only way. Did you ride in the Elnite cavalry, Kalen?"

                "Yes--but not often. Horses and I don't--"

                "If you've been on a horse, you'll be fine. Eldan?"

                "Of course."

               

                The procession dragged by like a giant centipede. Their slow pace was both promising and frustrating. They would make poor time if they continued thus, but Aevin's plan had to wait until the final stragglers left Terraphel. The last few came in a cluster of eight--more than they needed, but not impossible to take down if Eldan knew how to use that crossbow she so proudly carted around.

                "Wait." Aevin caught Eldan's arm as she set a bolt from her quiver on the string. "Not yet or you'll bring the whole force down on us." They sat in silence, Eldan impatiently practice-aiming, as the horsemen disappeared it rows into the trees. They were riding north-west; Kalen hoped that indicated an intent to skirt the forest the long way, adding almost a full day to their journey.

                Thwump! The final rider dropped like a stone from his mount.  The next horse reared in terror, sending its rider to the ground in cloud of dirt and curses. A horn sounded the alarm, adding to the frenzy as inexperienced riders tried to turn their frightened mounts. Kalen was on his feet in an instant, silently cursing Eldan's impetuousness. Aevin was two steps out of the bushes before they realized she hadn't fired a shot.

                A second ambush--but there was no time to think about that. Aevin spun his spear once in his hand, then descended into the fray with Kalen on his heels, under the cover of Eldan's crossbow fire. Aevin's spear took the first man, lodging under his ribs and ripping him from the saddle. Taldyr's lessons on taking horses returned as Kalen dodged the flailing hooves of an injured horse to catch the girth of a nearby saddle. The rider swung at him, and he ducked beneath the mount's belly, hooking his axe in the strap and dropping his full weight into it. He hung for a moment, wondering if he had made a terrible mistake, then dropped as the strap split, sending the rider hurdling after his own sword stroke. "Only cut the girth if you can mount easily bareback..."  He cursed his own idiocy and stuck the axe back in his belt to free both his hands. Aevin was already in the saddle charging the scattered warriors, his spear lowered like a jousting lance, and his distraction served for Kalen to catch one of the riderless horses. The beast made only a feeble attempt to avoid him; Fellyrians clearly believed in breaking any spirit from their horses.

                The moment Eldan had claimed the remaining beast, Aevin wheeled his horse around, calling them to follow. Kalen caught a glimpse of one of the other assailants--a long-handled glaive swept around like a reaper's scythe, severing horse legs and human limbs with every stroke. A piercing, single-note war cry rang through the clearing. What kind of madman--

                Assassin. She grinned, relishing the carnage, leaving horses and riders writhing in their death throes. There was no time to wonder where she had come from or what she was trying to do; Kalen wheeled his horse around and galloped into the trees after Aevin and Eldan.

                The gallop lasted less than a minute before the beast fell back to a loping walk. Of all the horses to steal...He kicked it with all his force, eliciting a brief canter that quickly gave way to a lazy attempt at a snack on some tall grasses. After repeatedly stopping to wait for him, Aevin finally took the reigns and led it by force.

                Some hours had passed before they heard the first sounds of pursuit. Aevin ordered Kalen to mount up behind Eldan, leaving his lazy beast loping down a side trail as a decoy, but the sound of hoofbeats behind them did not even hesitate. Eldan pushed her horse on, cursing Kalen's weight for slowing them, while Aevin circled round to bring up the rear.

                "Kalen! For Taril's sake, give us a chance to catch up!" Eldan ignored Jaened's voice and kicked the horse harder.

                "Eldan," Kalen gasped over the jolting of the horse's lively gait. "Eldan, it's Jaened. Should-n't we wait up?"

                Aevin reigned up, shouting for Eldan to do the same. She obeyed without a sound, and, in another instant, Jaened and Assassin emerged from the bushes behind, their horses snorting and stamping in protest as they slowed their pace.

                “Greetings, my friends,” Assassin’s sarcastic grin descried her friendly manner. “I trust you are all well?”

                “Be damned, Assassin. If you—”

                “Eldan.” Aevin had a skill for silencing people with a single word. He turned to address Assassin. “Will you hinder us? I have seen your skill, but you are outnumbered.”

                Assassin threw back her head in a loud harsh laugh. “I, hinder you? I saved your bleeding lives back there. Lead on, Tassin. Consider me your guard—or not, as you so please.”

                Aevin nodded abruptly and wheeled his horse around, pressing on towards Elni. The rest followed, Eldan cursing under her breath, Kalen half in shock. Had Aevin gone mad? May as well invite a wild Naresh into their company!

                Aevin maintained a hard pace and, as night shadows began to descend on the forest, they reached the crest of Thyra Hill. They pulled up briefly to get their bearings. Elni was hard to spot even from the heights at that hour, but there was no time to stop for the night.

                Much to all of their chagrin, it was Assassin who sighted the city and set them on their course. There was no denying her skills—that was what frightened Kalen most. Thyra Hill was a six hour ride from Elni. They covered it in four. Kalen felt the horse stagger under them as they came upon the gate; the beast would likely die within a few hours. He’d once cared about such things, but, with the whole city in danger, a broken old horse’s death meant nothing.

                Aevin dismounted and set to pounding on the gate with the blunt end of his spear. No answer came.

For the Broken

O Church, come and behold the world
See where sin's banner waves unfurled
Face the suffering, touch the pain
See the innocence Satan has slain

Know the darkness, feel the grief
The devestation of unbelief
Remember that could have been you
For only grace has brought you through

How can we stand and let them fall?
Can we ignore the gospel's call?
"O come you weary, come the broken
Come, unknown, with pain unspoken."

How will they come if none will go?
 How will they see? How can they know?
Raise up the fallen, seek the dying
Feel the pain, share in the crying.

Arise, O Church, and seek the lost
Open the Word, uphold the cross
Bridge the divide, take down the rope,
And let out cry be "There is HOPE!"

Battle Worn

An ordinary girl. An ordinary life. Late nights, early mornings; caffeine and sugar alternating with inspired bursts of healthy eating. Final year of high school--life would be easier if you didn't binge-watch TV and stayed off social media. But teens will be teens.
Graduation flies by in a flurry of photos and friends. First job, first car--a world of possibilities spread out before her, riddled with hopes and fears.
A good life, a clean life: a role model for our children. Look to her, daughters, look and learn.

Be not deceived.

A crushing blow, a shattered shield--an ambush in another realm. Oh, you who think you stand! Cast down, thrown to the earth; the gentle path beneath her feet is vanished. A stinging blow from her oldest foe: the other one. The other her. The one they killed. Its wounds gape, bloodless and blackened. The eyes are glazed with death, and yet from its throat rises a hollow laugh.
"You are dead! Return from whence you came!" She strikes out at it with her blade. O fool, to fight the foe alone! It has it's minions--they rise up to its defense and her destruction. One she has never seen before seizes her by the throat, lifting her to dangle, struggling, inches above the ground.

Beware lest you fall

A sudden falter. We pause and look once more. Perhaps we should seek another role model. Or was it just--Oh! Coldness, deadness, fear and failure--was this the one we praised so highly? What has she done? Where has she gone? Why this distance--why the silence?

If they but knew

Heaven preserve; hell, do not rise! The second realm is bleeding through. The falls, the blows, the fierce attack--she feels it even here. Hiding away, cloaking the truth, slowly takes its toll. Weariness, pain, grief and despair--must this be endured?
At last, in struggle long and fierce, the minion falls. Crumpled, gasping, thanking the Glory for this sword, she lies exhausted on the earth. To weary to rise--silent surrender. Just where her enemy would have her be. It lifts her unresistant form, carries her down, far down below. She wakes in a silent cell. Alone, imprisoned, and yet... At least she is not being beaten. At least here, she is not hurt. The way of escape cannot been seen, nor yet the will to seek it.

This cannot touch the other realm

She's looking better--not what she was, but certainly improving. A cleaner life, a brighter smile--who cares what it might hide? We will not send our daughters to her, yet we approve her parents' pride. Moving on, growing older. Working, living, planning, dreaming--she is doing well. So we move on and soon forget her faltering. She is a good girl, is she not?

Hidden things must come to light

A young man, handsome, good and kind. Another role model. A rising leader. Acquaintances, friends--whispered rumors, quiet laughs. Smiles, chatting, then a question. Stirring her hopes, yet raising her fears. If he but knew of the prison cell! He lives in both realms, as does she, yet she lies rotting while he lives free. Unworthy, defeated--I fell before my foe! He cannot know, and yet he must--for his sake and for hers.

Know the truth

War weary, rising slowly from the dust. His foes have fallen back from his last onslaught. Sword unsheathed, he leaves the field. A captive's cry has reached his ears. One who surrendered to the foe--his friend from the other realm. He enters the unguarded prison. None in this realm expect a rescue. The foes does not foresee friends meeting in this realm. All wander alone and fight alone. But not this time. A clang, a crash--the heavy iron door swings wide.

This is freedom

Arise, friend, do not give up the war! You are free--we can escape. He speaks to her of his own foes, and lets her tell of hers. He knows defeat as well as she, yet strives on to the promised victory. Side by side, they leave the prison, armed and aware. To harm her, her foes must get through him, and likewise, her sword is turned against his enemies. The journey's long, the foes are many, but by the Glory's grace, they are ready. Where one may fall, two will yet stand. We will fight this war together.

"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!"

-Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

Chapter 17

Grevvin--or whatever his real name was--met them on the ground at the base of the ladder. He was wearing the masked helm again, with the mask tipped back to show his smiling face, and a pack slung over one shoulder. Eldan and Aevin walked past him without a second glance, but Kalen couldn't. For a good reason: Grevvin was walking backwards directly in front of him, grinning like a jester.
"What's wrong, lad? You're new friends told you to beware of a crazy old man?" He spoke rapidly, mincing his steps to keep from tripping. "Ah, yes, I see they have. I see it in those eyes. I see it right there!" Kalen blinked and jerked back as Grevvin's finger jabbed at his eye. "But lucky for you, I've taken a liking to you, Kalen, boy. You and I--we're alike. I'm just what you need to become the man you're meant to be!"
"Ryel, Undrien, Grevvin, whatever your name may be, you are not coming with us." Eldan caught the man by the shoulder of his jacket, spinning him around to face her. "Until you prove otherwise, I see you as our enemy. At best, you're a fool and would be a hindrance to our mission. But I never assume the best. Get back up that tree while the Tassin will still take you."
"Ah, because they won't take you any more, will they, lady? They don't know you're here, do they, my dear? Though they should be accustomed to it by now--nation of traitors and all." The bright laugh at the end of his statement could not have been more ill-placed. Kalen saw the murderous fury in Eldan's eyes as her went for her sword.
"Eldan." Aevin's hand caught hers just in time. Grevvin took several rapid steps backwards and tripped over a root. He regained his footing quickly and, without hesitation, drew a short mace from his pack and smashed the root to pieces with a single blow. He brandished the weapon at the ground.
"You don't have me yet, oh no, not I! It won't be that easy, not that easy. I have slain your betters." Seeing a man threatening dirt and plants would have been bizarre enough, but, to Kalen's dismay, he proceeded to attack the soil with a renewed fury. Sod and mud flew as the assailant bellowed furious epithets and threats, vowing to kill that which had never been alive.
At Aevin's quiet suggestion, they took their leave of the madman while his attention was wrapped up with his imagined foe.

They had been fighting their way through the denser forest for some time before anyone spoke. Kalen waiting until Eldan's pace slowed, evidencing her temper had dissipated.
"Are we actually breaking the Tassin law?" It was directed to Eldan, but Aevin replied.
"Yes and no. The Tassin have no written law, and that may be there downfall some day. But there is a generally understood code of brotherhood and loyalty to the Archior, both of which we have broken."
"But Grevvin said the Tassin had laws--laws with severe penalties."
Eldan coughed. "Kalen, you do realize you are speaking of the man who is currently engaged in mortal combat with a lump of dirt? He knows nothing about the Tassin. One of our scouts found him unconscious, half-drowned in the river six months ago and brought him back to our camp. Since the moment he awoke we have gotten no true tale out of him, so he has gotten none from us. He is not permitted to leave the Scevva on pain of death, so he wanders about our camp uselessly, raving and laughing like a lunatic. We can't kill a man who's done no harm, but there are times when we are severely tempted. He'll drive us all as mad as himself if we do nothing."
"He's no longer our concern." Aevin's tone silenced Eldan and he went on. "What is our concern is where the Fellyrian army is. Did you two see this force?"
"No." Kalen replied, "But we did hear them, and they shook the ground.  A force of that size would have to move slowly. Even if they've passed us, we should be able to get ahead if we approach Elni from the west."
"The only route to the west would pass too close to Terraphel." Eldan objected. "We should go direct--that army enough noise for an avalanche. We'd hear them long before they detected us even if they've passed us."
"I'd sooner face the guards of Terraphel than the whole Fellyrian army. We'll go west."
"Aevin, there's something we haven't told you. Kalen and I took something from Terraphel--something they are intent on getting back." Eldan drew out her arrows and turned her quiver upside down, dumping out the three little scrolls into her hand. "I don't have the faintest notion what they are, but--"
"Paper! Definitely paper!" They all started as Grevvin stepped out from behind a tree, grinning confidently. Eldan's hand closed tightly on the scrolls. "Parchment to be specific. I've seen it before, I have!"
"Return to the Scevva, Ryel. You're not coming with us." Aevin's tone was calm and measured. "If you persist in following us, we will be within our rights and moral bounds to kill you. This is your final warning."
Grevvin didn't even look at Aevin, but turned to Kalen with a smile. "He doesn't like me, lad. There's no fairness in that, now is there? But you, my boy, you're my friend." He slung an arm around Kalen's shoulders. "I'll protect you, Kaden, and you'll do the same. We have each other's backs. Kaden and Drydar--we'll be a team Fellyre will never forget!"
"It's Kalen. And I thought your name was Grevvin," Kalen slipped out of Grev--Dry--whatever--'s grasp and turned to face him. "I'm with Aevin."
Grevvin's face fell. For a moment, Kalen thought he would burst into tears, but he just shook his head. "Very well, Kaden. I have been betrayed by friends before, but I never thought it would be you. Friendship be damned. Every man must watch his own back," He grinned suddenly, all signs of sadness gone. "Including you, lad, including you! We will meet again, my boy. Of that, be sure." With that, he turned and retreated towards the Scevva, chuckling to himself as he went.
"Should we wait until he's out of si--"
"No--I'm not wasting any more time on his account," Eldan interrupted Kalen. "Pray Ithien we haven't delayed too long already."
"It's a four day journey, Eldan. A few minutes is no great loss." Aevin pointed south with his spear. "We will take your route."

Travelling was maddeningly slow. They had been walking scarcely an hour when the tall trees gave way to dense willow brush, catching at their clothing and trapping their ankles. Eldan was nearly choked when a branch seized her crossbow, pulling its bindings tight across her throat. She avoided Aevin's eyes as he quickly freed her, but there was no need--his easy smile as he helped her to her feet held no accusation.
By the time the willows gave way to a semblance of a clearing, there was barely enough daylight left to find their footing. They stumbled on, Eldan still leading the way with regular grunts and gasps of pain followed by warnings about roots, rocks, and thorn-bushes. Finally, she turned back to Kalen and Aevin, who was bringing up the rear.
"I can't keep going. I don't even know if we're still headed south. The moon's not out, I don't see any stars--even Fellyrian scouts couldn't set a straight course in this dark. We have to rest. I'm sorry--I just can't keep going."
"By all means!" Aevin laughed a little. "I was praying you would let up soon--I can scarcely feel my legs."
Kalen sank to the ground. Eldan could set a hard pace, and even the prospect of Elni being destroyed could not keep him on his feet. He saw her unstrapping her crossbow...laying it against a...a...
"I swear, I had them in my jacket!" Eldan was half-screaming. For the sake of all that is merciful, it's the middle of the night! Kalen rolled over, burying his face in his elbow. A dull ache in his side sharpened with a sudden throb.
"You could have dropped them. It's a wonder we kept hold of anything in that thicket last night." Sleep began creeping in again--last night? He opened his heavy eyes to the unwelcome sunlight as his brain slowly sorted out the argument taking place a few feet away.
"Not where I had them. This was laced up to my chin last night. Look--it's been cut right here."
"No one could do that without waking you. When your crossbow caught, it must have--"
"It didn't." Eldan cut Aevin off. "This isn't torn. Someone stole them." Kalen sat up slowly--ouch. The pain was from the ax hilt in his belt.
He glanced up at Eldan. "What's been stolen?"
"The scrolls from Terraphel. All three are gone."

Chapter 16

"...and the Selvran Plains will be reclaimed." A voice somewhere ahead of them slowly grew more clear.
"Reclaimed to what end, Archior Zarr?" Kalen recognized Aevin's voice. "We are too few to populate the plains. Even if we overthrow Fellyre--if, by some madness, they do leave their city defenseless--the beasts of the Dinab will overrun the land."
A glow of torchlight show for only a moment in the tunnel before them before Kalen was pushed out of the tunnel into the council chamber. He missed whatever Aevin said next. He could only stare at the beauty of the cave. Some three or four hundred people stood in a semi-circle by the side of a faintly glowing milky blue lake in a cavern so vast that he could not see the far end. The ceiling could be seen only faintly, shimmering and casting rainbows across the stones in the light of dozens of enclosed lamps, set at random in crevices and shelves of the rock. Vast, upside-down icicles of stone rose, straining to meet their counterparts descending from the ceiling. Strands of crystal ran--
"Kalen." He started at Eldan's voice. Oh, yes. She was mad. Every inch of her looked on the verge of explosion, but she took a long, slow breath. "Kalen. What in Ithien's fair, sweet earth are you doing here?"
"We found him in the passage. Friend of yours?" The man holding him asked Eldan.
"Friend is a strong word, but yes--and he's harmless. He hasn't taken the vow yet, but I'll see to that. Leave him with me and return to your post."
"You don't give orders here, Tellisade. You're under me. Go--the tunnel's unguarded. You're not needed here."
Eldan paled slightly, but obeyed without protest, leaving Kalen under the watchful eye of the heavily armed guard. A few more steps brought them in sight of the speakers.
A broad-shouldered man with a closely cropped white beard was seated on a rocky outcropping spread over with several cloaks. Aevin, Hallin, and one other man stood before him. Hallin was speaking.
"As the noble Archior has said, even if Elni withstands the full force of Fellyre, we have no reason to believe they will not send their armies out to hunt us as they have before. They are not our friends, as Fendrel would have you believe--that much is obvious. But nor are they neutral allies as Aevin claims. There is blood on Elnite hands--Tassin blood. And there will be more if we attempt to aid them."
"Elni is a city, with women and children, not just an army," the third man--Fendrel interjected. "You would leave thousands of innocents to Fellyrian butchery and ravishing for a distraction? Just because you have abandoned all humanity does not mean we should follow you in this madness! How many of us have friends and family in Elni? Would you see them tortured--would you see their severed heads places on Fellyrian pikes while--"
"Enough, Fendrel." The old man rose and all fell silent. "People of the Dinab." A murmur of acknowledgement ran through the crowd. "You have heard this case out. It is for you to vote now: will you follow Fendrel and Aevin to attack and delay Fellyre's advance on Elni, or will we follow Hallin to Fellyre and take the city while its army is abroad?" The crowd began to stir as people divided into two groups. The guard behind Kalen released him to go and stand proudly at Hallin's side. Kalen stayed where he was--he was in enough trouble as was--and watched as the verdict was passed for the death of his people. Forty or fifty people stood by Aevin and Fendrel while the rest of the Tassin formed ranks with Hallin.
The council was quickly dismissed by the elderly Archior. The crowd filed out, paying Kalen no heed. He followed silently.

Grevvin met them at the tree. He stood smiling by a shallow hole in the earth, holding a large stick, and bowed low to everyone as they passed, addressing them at random as lords and ladies, or captains and priests. No one spared him a glance.
"Kalen! Kalen, lad!" Kalen was yanked out of step by Grevvin's grip on his shoulder. "You're not dead!" He prodded Kalen's forehead. "Yessir, the boy's survived!" He shook his head, looking at the hole. "A blessed waste of time, a blessed waste of time. Ah, well, that good fortune of yours can only hold out so long and when it runs out," He thumped the ground with the stick. "I'll be there."
"Kalen, we need to be on our way." He had not seen Eldan come up behind him.
"Ah! Eldan Tellisade, lady of Syxel." Grevvin gave an exaggerated bow. "How gracious of you to grace us with your graceful presence! You would not take my new young friend away so hastily, would you, my dear?"
"Indeed, I would. Come, Kalen." Kalen followed her back into the tree-village and down a different route, straight to Aevin's hut.
"Grevvin wasn't hurting anything. He showed me the way to the council."
Eldan stopped in her tracks. "His name is not Grevvin, and, whatever he has told you, he is not your friend. You're hard enough to keep out of trouble without fraternizing with a Calcidonian."
"A man from Calcidon," Aevin explained, coming up behind them. "The mountain realm. No one knows his real name. He has given a dozen or so different titles for himself over the past seven months he's been here. He's either raving mad or playing some absurd game with us. He's not to be trusted--that much is certain--but he may prove a friend in time." Eldan snorted, and Aevin added, "Ithien help you when you need a friend, Eldan. You can't expect to get through life trusting no one--we weren't made for that."
Eldan declined to argue the point, but ducked inside the hut and set to strapping her discarded gear back on. Aevin pulled a light mail shirt over his head and laced a sleeveless leather jacket over it.
"This should fit you." Kalen caught the leather plate-armor doublet that Aevin toseed back to him. The shoulders were a little broad, but the buckles on the side held it firmly in place. Aevin took to the back of the hut and returned with a small store of traveler's food--biscuits, nuts, and dried meat--and a bundle of weapons, strapped together with a sword belt. Eldan was content with her sword and crossbow, so the men divided the rest of the weapons. Kalen received a short axe and three knives, two for throwing and one long blade, while Aevin bound two straight swords in crossed sheaths to his back and took up a long spear.
"So where are we going?" Kalen asked as they stepped out on to the bridge.
"Elni." Aevin pointed south with his spear. "The rest of the Tassin may follow Hallin and the Archior, but no one should have to face that force unwarned. If their king has any sense, Elni will be emptied by the time Fellyre lays their seige."
"I wouldn't wager on King Dyestan's sense." Kalen almost said more, but he thought better of it. Perhaps Dyestan would prove reasonable. Perhaps donkeys would fly.
"Then let us pray his people can differentiate between loyalty and folly." Aevin smiled a little. "If most Elinites are like you, we have reason to hope."
They set off quickly across a few bridges, while Kalen tried to digest the compliment. What had he ever done or said that made Aevin think that?

Chapter 15

The hut was empty when Kalen awoke. He could feel the noon sun beating down on him through the doorless entry way. He rolled over with every intention of going back to sleep. The council! Where were Aevin and Eldan? Surely they wouldn't have gone without waking him--that council would decide the fate of his home! His father, Syriel, his cousins, his friends, the neighbors--they wouldn't deny him a say in this choice! They couldn't.
He made the mistake of looking down as he stepped out on the bridge. His dinner briefly felt inclined to reappear, but the feeling passed after a few unsteady steps forward. Looking around, he noticed that that bridge was one of many, strung like vines throughout the treetops, connecting narrow platforms and low, nest-like dwellings similar to the one he had just left. He could not recall having seen any activity in the trees earlier, but the fear of the council taking place without him seemed confirmed. Where in this bird's kingdom would they meet?
He wandered from bridge to bridge, searching for any sign of life. The huts were all empty and virtually unfurnished. He found what seemed to be an armory full of leather and wooden armor with the only metal found on a few pilfered weapons of Fellyrian make.
One hardened leather helm with an intricately carved mask lying in a heap in one corner caught his eye. It seemed strangely out of place amid the simple, utilitarian designs of the rest of the armor and weaponry.  Briefly forgetting about the council, he leaned closer for a better look. It was beautiful--possibly the best craftsmanship he had even seen. Then it moved.

Kalen screamed a full octave higher than his voice should have been. A long, loud laugh met his alarm as a figure stood up from the pile and removed the mask, revealing a thin, lined face fringed with scraggly dark grey hair. The man grinned, revealing two--possibly three--long, crooked teeth. He shot out his hand and seized Kalen's, shaking it vigorously before Kalen could begin to recover from the shock.
"Grevvin--Name's Grevvin! And what might I call you?" He half-shouted.
"K--Kalen."
Grevvin slapped him on the back with a force that nearly sent him sprawling. "I scared you good there, lad--scared you good!"
"Yes--you did. That was--why were--"
"And don't you worry, Kalen. You won't always sound like a ten year old girl!" He burst out laughing again, shaking his head. "Scared you good, scared you good." He muttered happily, patting Kalen's shoulder.
  Kalen stepped back on to the platform in front of the armory, out of reach of Grevvin's excessive friendliness.  With a little more distance between them, he could see the man more clearly. He was not really so very old--perhaps Kalen's father's age, clean shaven (if he had ever grown facial hair, which seemed unlikely). He was shorter than Kalen and muscles clung in knots to his starved limbs. He smelled of months unbathed. And he followed him out and across the next bridge.
"You're new here, aren't you lad? Didn't get an invite to the council, did you?"
Kalen turned abruptly. "The council--where is it? I need to be there."
"Ah! So you just slept in! Oh, lad, that is a habit you need to break yourself of. Oversleeping--shame, shame." He let out another guffaw, clapping his hands together with a violence.
"That doesn't matter--I have to know where it is."
"Then you'll have to follow me, Kalen, boy. No amount of telling and directing will get you there of your own. This here's the forest and it has many a tree, many a tree indeed."
Kalen restrained himself from remarking on the obvious nature of that statement. They walked along in silence, aside from Grevvin's regular mumbling and laughing to himself. He was sure-footed, even if his sanity was questionable.
"So why weren't you at the council?" Kalen asked at length.
Grevvin pulled up abruptly and turned to him. "Because they think I'm crazy." He put his head very close to Kalen's, lowering his voice. "But I have a secret."
"Okay..."
"I'm not!" Grevvin announced and set off again quickly, leaving Kalen none the more enlightened to his new friend's condition. The winding net of bridges and slender support lines finally gave way to one single bridge, so narrow Kalen would have missed it altogether without his guide. The bridge ended in a massive, branchy fir tree, and, without hesitation, Grevvin began swinging down from branch to branch. Kalen followed carefully, picking his way along the prickly branches.When he finally dropped to the ground, he found Grevvin lying on his back with his eyes closed.
"Grevvin?" He leaned over the man. "Are you--"
"Aye, I'm awake!" Grevvin started up so fast that Kalen was nearly knocked over. "Well, lad, I was thinking you'd break your neck climbing down. Never touched a tree before, I warrant!" He hooked an arm around Kalen's shoulders. "If you fell, I was thinking where I'd bury you. That's a pretty place, isn't it?" He pointed to a small bed of blue flowers at the foot of one tree.
"It is indeed, but I don't need burying. Where to now?"
"Ah, this way. And don't worry, my boy, you'll have your burial day yet." A short walk led them to a little, grassy hill that Grevvin circled around. Kalen found himself questioning Grevvin's interest in burial when the old man pointed him to a hole in the side of the hill, just large enough for a man to pass through. "In you go! We're almost there."
"I'd rather you lead."
Grevvin, for once, did not laugh. "Oh, my lad, I daren't. I'm not supposed to be at these meetings. We have laws here and laws are not to be broken. Spying on the council is death."
Kalen hesitated, trying to gauge his sincerity. "That seems an excessive penalty."
"Well, you can argue that with the council! And if you're not supposed to be here either, my boy, you'd better get back where you came from as quick as you can run." Grevvin grinned, "Or you can assume I'm lying and find out for yourself." He pointed to the hole.
"I am supposed to be there. They're discussing the fate of Elni--my home city. No one would contest my right to a place in this council." Kalen ducked inside the entrance. "Where do I go inside?"
"Just follow the tunnel. I'll be digging."
"Digging?"
"Your grave, lad. And thinking up a worthy epitaph to your noble stupidity."
His rattling laughter followed Kalen into the tunnel. Cold air blasted up from some unseen lake as he turned corner after corner, moving slowly in the impenetrable dark. He had made a mistake. He did not see them coming.
His face hit the floor of the cave. Before the shock could give way to pain, he was hauled to his feet. He bent forward as his captor twisted his arms up behind him. He was forced forward down the tunnel in silence.
He could only think one thing: Eldan is going to be so mad.

The Hinge of History

The slow clock of history ground on, dragging with it a broken nation. Israel. Prince with God. Oh, how they had failed. Time and time again, from the time of the golden calf that fateful day at the foot of Sinai, they had rebelled and broken God's covenant.
Even after repentance, they had returned to their sin as the sow returns to wallow in the mire. Warnings had lain unheeded, prophets persecuted and killed, while the people and their kings forgot their God.
Even the best of them, the great King David, wise Solomon, Gideon, and Moses himself, fell and failed before the demands of God's holy law. Faith in God's promises gave way to dead tradition and ritual. Rather than the broken and contrite heart God sought, He found souls which delighted in abominations. As the prophet Isaiah wrote, truth had fallen in the streets and equity could not enter.
The old covenant, contained in the law, had failed. It could bring no one to God, but rather condemned all who heard it. None could draw near to God, for man's best deeds were as the profane fire of Nadab and Abihu. The veil hung heavy and unmoving between the Holy God and His unholy nation.
But in the midst of this, the promise of a new covenant came. An everlasting covenant that would succeed where the last had failed. Where the law was written on stone, bearing no power over the heart, now God promised to "give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take out your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes, and you will keep my judgements and do them." (Ezekiel 36:26-27)
God promised to send the Messenger of this new covenant to purify the people (Malachi 3:1-2), then silence fell. Four centuries rolled past with no further word from God.
Empires rose and fell. Oppressor after oppressor tyrannized the nation of Israel. The people of promise clung wearily to their traditions and their hope of the promised Saviour, who would fulfill the promises from the dawn of history and set His people free. But none was prepared for the destruction of the old covenant.

Then Christ came. How history must have trembled when the eternal one stepped into time! How the angels must have marvelled as the Holy One from whom even they his their faces took a form more lowly than their own! God in human flesh. The great paradox of veiled majesty, the great union of strength and frailty, the Creator became the creature. He came to His own--His chosen nation, the keepers of the promises--but His own did not receive Him.
As He rose to threaten and challenge the old covenant, they rose up to its defense and His destruction. They rose to do exactly what God had planned, but that was not how they saw it. The cross looked to them like a preventative. It seemed expedient to have one Man die rather than risk their nation and their traditions.
Now, with the wider picture painted, let us hone in on these final days--the days that shattered the old covenant and brought in the new.

The scene is set. Dinner finished and the betrayer already on his way to his final treachery, Jesus brings His disciples to the Garden of Gethsemane as He so often had. Another night of prayer. The disciples, taking lightly His warnings of the horror that was so soon to come upon Him, see only the familiar garden and their own weariness. As He leaves them to pray alone, they lie back and drowse, unheeding of the anguish of their Master as He falls to the ground in desperate prayer.
"Take this cup from me." These words, gasped out as the bloody sweat of extreme emotional aguish runs down His face, reveal the cause of his agony. He knows of what He speaks. The cup of horror and desolation--the stored up wrath of God upon all the earth. A cup none but He could fully understand even as none but He could drain it. All the wrath, all the fury--all the sins of all His people, past, present, and future, was stored up and ready to crush Him. Unknown suffering may frighten men, but there is no terror like the full understanding and anticipation of every moment of pain. Yet He did not flee or call down angels to His rescue, but rather submitted Himself fully to the will of the Father.
Then came the betrayal, with the desertion of His followers and the heartless abuse of the guards, even after they witnessed Him miraculously restore the severed ear of one of their number. A sleepless night, alternating between interrogations and brutal beatings, brought Him at last to the darkest day.
The trial was held before a secular power, the same oppressor the people hoped their Messiah would save them from. His judge had no right or reason to condemn Him, save that which He himself allowed. The violent Roman flogging, known to sometimes kill the victims, was only a hint at the anguish to come. Shredded flesh and muscles and hypovolemic shock setting in rendered Him physically incapable of carrying His cross alone. And yet, despite the agony He was already in, He refused the pain-reducing drink offered at the place of execution. He had come to suffer and He would not be spared, for, if He were spared, His people would not be.
Then they nailed Him, hands and feet, to the cross and hoisted it up right with a joint-dislocating jolt. The physical pain of the cross is hard to imagine. We live in a gentle Western world where pain is quickly treated and death is eased by any means possible. But Romans were experts of pain. One need only look to Coliseum to see their lust for blood.
For six long hours, He dangled from spikes in His wrists, pushing up on the spikes slowly tearing wider holes in His feet as the grated against the bone. And the people were laughing. Laughing! They mercilessly mocked the dying Lord, relishing their final victory over He who would have destroyed their covenant.
Then came the peak of His suffering. The anguish of the cry "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" cannot be fathomed. The spiritual agony of condemnation and fury from God raining down mercilessly upon the Holy One made all the other torment pale. This was the cup He had dreaded--not the lash, not the nails, not the mocking, but this crushing and pouring out of His soul.
Yet even then, at the height of His suffering, He did not cry out "Enough!". He had the right--at any moment, He could have, as the scoffers dared Him to, "come down from the cross" and "Save yourself."
Then came the final cry--the victory shout. "IT IS FINISHED!" And all men's schemes turned upside down. In an emphatic demonstration of a covenant ended, the veil in the temple, symbolizing all that divided the people from God, tore clean in two. And the Giver of life surrendered His life.

History hung suspended. The old covenant ended, the new hung in the balance of a single question: What now?
Then came Sunday. And death rolled back, surrendering its undefeated prey. It had swallowed what it could not contain. And Christ rose up from the grave in final victory, as the guarantee of the New Covenant. The old was ended forever. The law could stand no more before the new Law of Christ.

The Law of Christ written on His people's hearts rather than the stone, the Everlasting Covenant that covers all saints from the beginning of history to the end, had replaced the old forever. And in this covenant, we have a new and better hope. A hope which will not and cannot disappoint, for the love of Christ has been poured out both on the cross and in our hearts. A people sealed and bought by grace cannot and will not stray for the Spirit of God is in them, compelling them to repentance and faith.

Rejoice, Covenant people of our God. You are no longer under law but under grace. You stand no longer separated by your sin, but, covered in the blood of Christ, the door to the throne room of God is open wide to you.

For He Himself is our peace, who has made both one and has broken down the middle wall of separation, having abolished in His flesh the enmity, that is, the law of commandments contained in the ordinances, so as to create in Himself one new man from the two, thus making peace, and that He might reconcile them both to God in one body through the cross, thereby putting to death the enmity."

-Ephesians 2:14-16

Chapter 14

"They're safer with me. You can't even see the writing. You don't know which one is which."
"Right. And you're about as wood-wise as a fish. You wouldn't even last long enough for them to find you! They'd take those from your corpse after you tripped in a mud puddle and drowned."
"You haven't even given me a chance to prove myself!" Kalen protested. "I've been in the army since I was eleven. Four years training and two battles have taught me more than you think."
"I don't care. I'm not letting you take off with these." Eldan brandished the three little scrolls in his face.
"Well, I'm not leaving them with you. Their magic clearly works better on you than me."
Eldan snorted at the word. "Magic? Objects are not magical. I don't believe in any real magic. I've seen Fellyrian conjuring tricks and heard tales of spellcasters across the mountains, but I have seen no spirits, or enchantments, or any true magic."
"And what of Ithien? Or Zerak, for that matter?"
"Ithien is not magic. That's blasphemy--he is our god! And don't class him with Zerak. Zerak is a Fellyrian legend, created by their kings to maintain control of their people."
Kalen did not reply, so she went on. "But even if these are magical, and some spell makes them visible to you and invisible to me, you could just as easily be the one enchanted to see something that isn't there."
"Then it looks like as long as we have those, we're stuck with each other."
"I suppose so--until one of us drives the other mad."

Living in the forest was better than Kalen expected, and, contrary to Eldan's prediction, the more time passed, the less they irritated each other. Eldan's satirical remarks grew less frequent and more mild as Kalen's skills improved. The hours separate as one slept or hunted while the other kept guard over the scrolls definitely helped. It was during one such time that Kalen realised that something was wrong.
The final embers of their cookfire were fading, throwing their last sparks into the cold night air. Eldan was curled up in a tight ball under her cloak with her quiver for a pillow. It had been a little over a week, with no sign of pursuit or trouble, and Kalen's watch was growing a little slack. He idly cut away at a fallen branch. He had never been able to whittle, but then, he had never before had the time to learn.
The horse head slowly began to take shape. It was rough, like a child's drawing, but better than any he had made before. Ouch The knife suddenly slipped and cut into his fingernail, nicking the skin underneath. He set the knife again. The blade trembled. No. It vibrated. He held out his hand. There was no tremor. His trained instincts set in, and he stabbed the knife into the ground. Setting his ear to it, he could feel the vibrations in the earth. A distant rumble, not of thunder, ran up the hilt.
"Eldan." The girl did not stir. "Eldan!" He shook her lightly, then more earnestly.
"What? Is it time already?" She mumbled, not opening her eyes.
"No--but we have a problem." That roused her. She sat up quickly, still tangled up in her cloak. "I think we have company. Listen here."
Eldan had her ear to the hilt for only a moment, then she was on her feet. "It's Fellyre. It must be. No one else has a force of that size. They're advancing again." She began strapping her gear back on. "We can't stay here. I need to warn the Tassin."
"So we are going to the Tassin after all? How do you know that's where the Fellyrian army is headed?"
"It's not. They're going to Elni. Elni is the only free city left. They would make an end of us--the Tassin would not last long alone against Fellyre. But we can do what we do best."
"And what's that?"
"Sting." Eldan offered no further explanation, but stamped out the remains of the fire and started off into the night. She set a hard pace, but Kalen had always been swiftfooted. The sun rose, and they took to the thicker parts of the forest, slowing their pace slightly.
Suddenly, Eldan stopped, putting her hand out for silence. She smiled after a moment. "Rystar, you're mad if you think you could hit a horse from that distance. Put that down before you hurt yourself." A tree far to their left rustled as its occupant scrambled down. He was a slight youth, younger than Kalen, with a frizz of golden hair sticking out from under a poorly sewn hat and a short bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. He returned Eldan's smile innocently.
"I was waiting for you to get closer. Eldan, it is good to see you! We thought you were dead. Ellesanne is going to take you to task for the scare you gave her. Aevin blames himself for letting you go."
"I have much to tell them, but there's more pressing news now. You should get back to your post. There'll be a rallying tonight. I'll see you then."
"Er, Eldan..." Rystar fidgeted nervously. "I don't know if I can let you both pass. I don't remember all the rules, but I'll need to know his name and where he's from, and I am supposed to accompany him to the Scevva."
"Kalen is an Elnite and one of us now. We don't have time for this. Fellyre is on the move. If there's aught to answer for, I'll do the answering. Now get back up that tree and have your bow ready for Fellyrian scouts." Rystar did not need to be told twice. The mention of Fellyrian Scouts was enough.

The Tassin village--or Scevva as they called it--looked more like a mess of brambles and birds nests high in the trees than anything else. It took Eldan sometime of yelling up into the trees before they were persuaded to throw a rope ladder down. She didn't tie the bottom, but the tree kept it from swinging too badly as they climbed. Through a thick net of branches, they came out on to a rough hewn wooden platform, where they were immediately surrounded by lightly armed men in leather armor.
"Eldan!" One of them took half a step forward and Kalen recognised him as Aevin. A heavy set dark bearded man, evidently their leader, interrupted.
"Eldan Tellisade. You have been gone without leave three weeks. Where have you been?"
"Around. It doesn't matter. Fellyre is on the move. They are marching on Elni. If we don't intervene, we'll be the only resistance left."
"How do you know this? Have you seen their forces?"
"No, but I heard them. A force large enough to make the ground shake could only come from Fellyre." The man crossed his arms and did not move. "Zerak's blood, Hallin, what reason would I have to lie? We failed Syxel. We can't abandon Elni. Fellyre is one step away from total dominion; it's our job to stop that final step."
Aevin spoke up. "Thank you, Eldan. Our scouts have already brought back reports of this force, so we know you're telling the truth. Hallin's just being boorish because he doesn't want to fight for Elni."
Hallin turned on Aevin like a storm. "Elni be damned! They've never so much as lifted a finger to our aid. They live in peace and prosperity, thanks to their wealthy army, while our people starve. Attacking their army? It's madness! My plan would work a thousand times better. If you want to kill a beast, you don't hack at its limbs. Go for the heart--one quick blow and the Fellyrians will be the homeless ones."
Aevin didn't so much as blink at the tirade. "The council will meet shortly and bring this to vote. It's really come down to Hallin and Fendrel. I can guess which side you're going to take. But come--you and your friend must be hungry."
Hallin put up a brief protest, then turned and left, with a warning that he would tell the council of Aevin's insubordination. A short walk along a precariously narrow bridge with a thin rope on either side for railing led them to an odd triangular hut with a thatched roof.
Within minutes, a basic, if a bit scant, meal, consisting of herbs, fruit, and dried meat, was spread out before them on a blanket on the floor of the hut. Eldan and Aevin sat cross legged and took their food with their fingers, so Kalen followed in suit. Aevin plied them with questions about the past three weeks. Eldan's answers somewhat surprised Kalen, as he frequently came up in rather heroic context. If she saw him that way, she had certainly never shown it.
After dinner, Aevin took the blanket, shook it once, then offered it to Kalen. "You should take some rest. Sounds like you've earned it." It felt vaguely like being offered a table for a bed, but Kalen was too tired to mind.
"My thanks, Aevin. Can I sleep here?" Permission granted, he immediately acted upon it.

Chapter 13

Assassin kept her word. She killed him quickly. Mid-sentence. In the middle of his plea for mercy. Then she turned to leave without a glance back; Kalen followed her. Jaened joined them immediately.
"Where's Eldan?" He asked Kalen after a few moments. Kalen shook his head. He was still too breathless to speak.
"Eldan can take care of herself. Jaened, you're with me. We're going to get your sister out if I have to burn Fellyre to the ground." Assassin paused for a moment to retrieve the glaive she had hidden in the underbrush. "Are you with us, Elnite?"
She was giving him the choice? "No. Why in heaven or hell would I want to follow you?"
"It was an offer, not a request. I have no need of you. You may live longer with us, but then again, perhaps not. I know your kind--you carry ill-fortune with you everywhere you go. Those who believe such things would call you cursed."
Kalen opened his mouth to demand what made him cursed, but immediately saw the truth of her charge. What other explanation could there be? "Well then, I'll free you of a bad luck charm." He turned to leave. No one protested or moved to stop him, so he kept walking.

Retracing his steps from the pile of bodies Assassin had left to where he had parted ways with Eldan was easy, but following her trail was nigh impossible. She could have gone any direction. Elnites were traditionally hunters, but military only taught basic tracking. The broken rubble gave no space for footprints, and he knew she would not be so idle as to let her clothes catch and tear on thorns and stones. Assassin was right--Eldan could take care of herself. He began making his way towards the trees. She was not his charge--wait, was that blood?
He knelt and touched the dark smear. It was still wet. No wonder she had been lagging. He searched the area, but at the same time hoped that she was not bleeding enough to leave a trail. He sighted along the course she'd taken to guess her direction and followed it into the thicker underbrush amass with willows.
"Eldan!" He dared to call her name quietly as he crept forward. Sloosh The turf gave was to swamp, leaving his left leg soaked to the knee. Why would she go this way? "Eldan!" He called her a few more times, then began retracing his steps. If she hadn't gone that way, there was no telling where she might be.
He stopped at the edge of the clearing and dropped quickly to the ground. The rubble was swarming with soldiers, for more that the thirty Assassin had spoken of. Whatever Eldan had taken was clearly of great value to them. He waited, scarcely daring to breathe, until he was certain no one was looking his way, then retreated back into the swamp. At least they wouldn't be able to track him there.
He found a moderately dry log to rest on, but, as the day grew cooler, the insects began to swarm up from the waters. When he could stand the bites and buzzing no longer, he pressed on, deeper into the swamp, since he did not dare to go back.  It had to either dry out or or lead to a larger body of water eventually.
Eventually. Hours passed; darkness slowly descended on the forest, and still there was no change. Every second step landed in deep mud or a small pool of water. What foolish notions of heroism had possessed him to come after Eldan? She was probably safely hidden away with the rest of the Tassin, while he, like the gallant hero he wasn't, was lost in a disease-ridden marsh. The damp worked its way into his bandage, making his shoulder ache and itch.
His mind began to wander. Syriel. What was she doing right now? Was she safe? Free? Was she mourning them? Could his father really protect her? He glanced up at the stars. Wherever she was, she was probably safer than he was right now.
"Kalen?" He started and turned around, finding himself staring down the shaft of a crossbow. Eldan relaxed her weapon. "Thank Ithien you escaped! When you took off, I thought you were dead!" She slid down against the tree she was leaning on to sit on the turf. Kalen joined her.
"Are you hurt? I saw some blood--" Eldan shrugged and pointed to her side. Her shirt was tied up tightly as a makeshift bandage. Dry blood crusted the skin below it.
"It's not bad. I know a serious wound when I see one. I just failed to fully deflect a blow. But how did you manage? I thought you were dead."
Kalen explained in brief what had transpired. "So I came back to find you, but all Terraphel is combing the ruins, so I went this way."
"You came back for me?" Eldan paused for a moment, then added, "So Assassin and Jaened are off to Fellyre? Four against Terraphel, two against Fellyre--that woman is far to confident in her own skills. But I would rather have her attacking Fellyre than on their side."
They sat in silence for a time. Eldan lay back and closed her eyes. In the moonlight, she seemed smaller than she had before.
"What did you steal from Terraphel?"
Eldan opened one eye. "This." She drew out a small, ornate box from her jacket. "I don't know what it is, but it looked important. I wouldn't suggest opening it." Kalen took the box. It was so light it felt almost empty. The wood was deep red, bound with hammered gold and intricately carved. He felt the carvings since it was too dark to see them. So this was what he had almost been killed for. He would normally have been curious about such a thing, but now...
"We should bury it or hide it somewhere that they'll never find it."
"If it's important to them, Fellyre will find it anywhere we hide it. It's safest if we keep it."
"It's safe? What about us? Are we going back to the Tassin?"
"No--not me at least. If those soldiers are after this, I'm not going to lead them to my people. I'll show you the way come morning, but I can't follow until I know what this is and what to do with it."
"If you want to find out what it is," Kalen quickly flipped the clasp and opened the box.

And that was it. No flash, no sound, no sign of magic. Inside lay three pieces of parchment, neatly rolled and tied with black ribbon. Kalen was almost disappointed, but Eldan sat up quickly.
"That's the dumbest thing I've seen you do, but it just might have been the best thing you could have done. We can leave the box for them to find and take the scrolls." She picked one up and began to untie the ribbon.
"Is it safe?"
"You're the one who just opened a box that could have had a viper in it. It's just parchment. It's..." She unrolled it. "Blank." She turned the scroll over. There was not so much as an inkblot, even when she held it up so the moonlight could shine through it. She took the second scroll and found it likewise. Or at least, so it seemed at first.
Kalen glanced over. A long, single sentence was scrawled across it in an unbroken, wavy hand.  "Well that says something."
Eldan looked at him, puzzled. "No it doesn't." She turned it to face him. He looked more closely at the writing. It wasn't like any script he had ever seen before. He gingerly took it from her hands. It was hard to distinguish the thin letters in the dark.
"It seems...it's not Fellyrian--or any common Selvran language. Not that I know anything but Elinite and Common Speech, but I've seen a fair bit, travelling with the army." Eldan snatched it back and turned it over a few times.
"Kalen, there is absolutely nothing written on this." She laughed slightly, then stopped, looking him in the eye. "You actually see something, don't you?"
"You don't?" The writing was thin and a little faint, but it was obvious. He ran his finger along it. The slight ridge of ink--it was all there. How could she not see it?

Beauty and the Beast...and Sin and the Christian

So there has been a lot of buzz going around about the new Beauty and the Beast. On the one side, there are those who have started a Disney boycott and are blowing the whistle loudly on anyone and everyone who condones it.

On the other side, we find the defense who praise its merits to high heaven to the point of denying any problems.

So I went and watched it.

And I liked it.

It had merit and all the charm of the.beloved cartoon But the problems were also real, if a little over-stated by some people. So here are the problems (we all like to get the bad news first any ways):

1. Low collars on the ladies. I guess camisoles weren't invented yet.

2. The prince was a good child, then corrupted. Small, I know, but it is still worth noting (especially if you are talking it over with a child) that, contrary to its assertion, people are born sinful. We do not need to be corrupted to do evil.

3. Warped portrayals of marriage. First, there is the obvious. Gaston, who epitomizes the classic chauvinist, wants a little wife to bear his children and massage his feet. There is some implication that literacy is considered dangerous for girls in his opinion (and a few other characters). Codsworth is revealed to have a wife who, after he is restored, embraces him, saying how lonely she has been. He replies by expressing his desire to be a clock again (to escape his wife). Lumiere and Plumette are presumably unmarried and markedly passionate in their romance.

4. Lefou. Yes, I know, you were wondering when I would get down to that. To be honest, if you were to watch this without hearing all the rumors, you may very well not pick up on anything there. But, we've all heard it, so I could not help seeing it. He is somewhat effeminate and one can definitely see the looks he casts Gaston's way. But it remains by no means a gay movie. He does once sort of wrap Gaston's arms around himself in the middle of his famous song about Gaston, which act, Gaston informs him, is "too much". Gaston is clearly oblivious to Lefou's feelings, and, as far as I can tell, Lefou is more confused than anything else (hence the name). And, very briefly, he can be seen dancing with a man in the ball at the end.

Now for some good news. Let's hear what they did right.

1. Belle and her father's relationship. As far as parent-child relationships are concerned, this is one of the best I have seen in film for a long time. The love they both bear each other is tangible and heart-warming as, over and over again, they sacrifice themselves and their wishes for each other's sake.

2. Belle and the Beast's relationship. This is more fleshed-out than in the original, showing how their love grows over a passion for reading. One notable emphasis in this is that people can change far more than they may think. Change is part of real love--changing and surrendering your own desires and plans to sacrificially serve and help the beloved. There have been a number of popular romance movies that came out relatively recently which portray as desirable being loved just the way you are with the desire for you not to change. It was refreshing to see a love portrayed which necessitated some of the changing on both sides that a real relationship requires.

3. Gaston. Gaston is evil. You hate him for all the traits that you should hate--pride, selfishness, uncontrolled temper, cruelty, cunning. While some of these traits are rather exaggerated beyond anything you are likely to encounter, it is always good when you see something you despise to stop and take a double check in the mirror and be sure that you do not harbor a few of those sins yourself.

4. Mr. and Mrs. Potts and Chip. Okay, I have little so say here except that they are a truly adorable family.

Over all, my verdict was favorable. I would watch it again. I think I could recommend it too. And this is why:

We are in this world. If you expect the world to turn out Christian material, you are going to be sadly disappointed. I am only surprised that it has taken Disney this long to get on board. I cannot, off the top of my head, think of a single prominent film company that has not yet put a gay character in at least one of their movies. And, my dear Christian friends, if this offends you, stop and consider what else should offend you. We watch films and TV shows every day where unmarried couples are living together and we don't bat an eye so long as they don't "show anything".

What a change it would make if Christians today could look for ten seconds through the eyes of God and see sin for what it is! But that is not how we function. We have classified sin. We have the okay sins and the not okay sins. While it is true that, in this world, we have to walk about with a tolerance for unbelievers' sins, as, if we did not, we would be too overwhelmed to step outside our own homes, I fear we have drawn our lines in strange places. Sin does have categories. Sexual sin is a unique category (1 Corinthians 6:18). But that category covers everything from looking at a woman with lust to sodomy. If the Christian blanches at the sight of a man dancing with a man, then shrugs off straight sexual innuendos in other films, we have a problem.

This is why Christians fear to share the gospel with homosexuals. This is why Christians struggling with homosexual desire think they need to keep it secret. We have put that one sin in a class of its own.

So you are probably asking if I am about to tell you to never watch another movie unless it is Christian. That is not my recommendation. Nor, I believe, is it the demand of Scripture. Setting no unclean thing before your eyes is not a command to walk around blindfolded. On the contrary, we need to walk with our eyes a little wider open. Be aware. Know what is right and what is wrong and recognize and address it as is needed. If you see sin in a film (and you will if you watch any movies at all), know it as such. Don't shrug it off or petition for the movie being good despite it. Acknowledge it and be honest with yourself and God as to whether you can watch a movie like that or safely recommend it to others.

So now you are saying that, as long as I know what is and isn't sin, I can watch whatever? No! Emphatically no! Here are some simple criteria:

1. If sin is exalted, do not watch it. Sin portrayed as a fact of life is one thing. Sin portrayed as good and commendable is another thing entirely. (Isaiah 5:20)

2. If it tempts you or others to sin, do not watch it. The most obvious example is sex and nudity. But excessive language can also have this effect. God does not let us tamper with sin. We are to flee it. (2 Timothy 2:22)

3. If it is part of the movie's supposed appeal, do not watch it. Gratuitous violence and sex/nudity scenes are the most common of this sort in modern films. If that is what people watch the movie for, Christians have no business there. You may as well go to a nightclub and say you are there because you like the lights. (Even if that is the truth, you are still taking part in what is going on there) (Ephesians 5:11-13)

Lastly, I would ask you to all ask yourselves what the things you are viewing do to the glory of God. The answer may honestly be "Absolutely nothing". But, often as not there are some things which bring God glory and some which do the opposite. Beware of those that mock God. The Bible has grave warnings against them. You should fear to be a partaker in that. Do not imagine that you can watch and enjoy a portrayal of sin without being a partaker in it. And that sin is the same stuff that nailed Christ to that bloody cross. Hate sin, Christian. But hate it most within yourself.