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.

Chapter 12

"That would be a great plan if we had a hundred men. But we don't."
"All it will take is four. Terraphel has thirty guards. Eight will be on watch here, here, and here," Assassin jabbed her knife into points on the rough diagram she had scratched in the earth. "And the rest will be in the guard hall. The dungeon is probably still empty, but i there are guards down there, that just means fewer for us to deal with. You two will be the distraction. Jaened and I will go in here and make our way straight to Symorkhel's chambers. We will be out with the Sheela in minutes."
"So Kalen and my lives are a sacrifice you are willing to make? I've done the math and I can only see two getting out alive." Eldan argued.
"As tempting as it would be to lose you, that is not my plan. You've escaped Terraphel once. These woods are full of your people. You should have no trouble staying alive until we rejoin you."
"Why don't I go in with Jaened and you lead the wild goose chase then?"
"You think I would entrust him to you? I won't let him out of my sight. If we lose him, we've lost our chance with the Sheela. I've lost my revenge and you have lost your war."
"Glad to hear I'm good for something." Jaened laughed a little. "I was beginning to wonder if--"
"No one said you were good for anything." Assassin interrupted coldly. "I said we need you. Once we have the Sheela, you can go to the Pits for all I care." She turned abruptly back to Eldan. "The signal is the only difficult part. We will be concealed over--"
"What about Erissa? What will you do with her after we rescue her?"
"That will depend on what state she is in.  I won't kill her unless I have to."
"So," Kalen put in, "Is this a rescue or an assassination?"
"You're not going to touch her." Jaened's tone held a warning that his lack of skill gainsaid.
"If she stays in Terraphel, she will be worse than dead." Assassin's tone softened--something Kalen had never heard. "Don't fear, Jaened. Your sister will come to no harm by my hand if you do your part. I can take her from Symorkhel, but only you can bring her back from whatever dark spells have taken her mind. If you succeed, you can both go and do whatever you please with the rest of your lives. If not, it will not be your sister that I will be killing."
Jaened took her answer and quietly retreated. Kalen resumed his quiet observation of Assassin's plans. The only thing which made him uneasy was that Assassin no longer spoke of leaving once the Sheela was theirs. He felt that, perhaps, there was a darker plan underlying all that she said and did and dreaded discovering what it might be. She was a little too open with them. With her skills, what if she chose not to disappear afterwards?
He shook himself. He hated her, but he had no reason to suspect her of anything worse than an ice cold heart. Which was bad enough.

Climbing the wall was easier than it looked. And Kalen still couldn't do it.
"It won't work." He whispered to Eldan as he dropped down for the third time. "I can't hold my weight with this arm--it's barely begun to heal."
"I know. Assassin was mad to ask that of you. And doubly mad to refuse to have a second plan if this fails. Wait here and I'll see if I can get the gate open."
"You think you can get the gate open without being seen?"
"No. But it'll make a pretty good distraction--better than what she planned." Eldan was scaling the wall before he could reply. Her legs dangled awkwardly over the side for a moment as she struggled to haul herself over the narrow stone rail, then she disappeared into the fortress. With her gone, the magnitude of how alone he truly was struck him full force. How had it come to the point that this girl, who he had known for scarcely a week, was his only friend left? Friend? She said she didn't trust him, but somewhere along the way, he had learned to trust her. Either she had grown more friendly or just the contrast between her and Assassin had made her seem nicer. Whichever it was, he did not want her to die. He quickly and quietly made his was around to the gate, staying flat to the wall so as to avoid detection from above. Ithien, protect her. He prayed to the deity he scarcely believed in any more.
Time dragged by. She was taking far too long--or was it just time moving far too slow? He drew the sword Assassin had made him take. He was glad, for once, that she was more stubborn than him. He was ready--he had never been so ready in his life--but it was so silent. The gate did not move. A crow's raucous laughter was the only thing to be heard.
Then came the shout. Kalen took half a step before the gate began to move. She'd done it! He seized the one gate and began to pull with all his strength. Fortress gates were impossible to open quickly, and all he could do was curse the wood and iron as it groaned on its hinges. The moment it was wide enough, Eldan slipped through sideways and set her shoulder to pushing it shut again.
"No time for signal," she gasped. "Have to run." The gate clanged and they took off as it began to grind open again. There was no time for questions or even thought. Kalen was running faster than he ever had before. Eldan was lagging a little behind him--an odd reversal of last time. He grabbed her hand to give her a little of his speed. He could hear the pursuit. Horses. They had horses.
"Split!" Eldan yelled it over and over again before it registered. They round the corner of a decaying building and stopped for a second. Kalen ran out first. It wasn't heroism, drawing off the pursuit. It was logic: he was the faster runner. He regretted it instantly. He did not know the terrain. The soldiers and Naresh clearly did.

"Where is it? Did she give it to you?" The guard had remarkably bad breath. Almost as bad as Kalen's luck. He was surrounded, exhausted, and quite entirely caught.
"Yes." He tried, uncertain as to what "it" was.
"Then where is it?"
"I dropped it." He tried again. It seemed to be working...
"Then you are worthless to us." The guard drew his sword. Never mind. Definitely not working.
"But only I know where." How long could he play for time? Was there even a point? Assassin would never come for him. Eldan could be anywhere.
"All we need to do is give the mongrel your scent and he will find it." The Naresh snarled and strained against its chain and massive, cage-like muzzle. Kalen searched in vain for another excuse--why should they let him live?
"But doesn't Symorkhel still need prisoners?"
"The High Priestess has already succeeded. She is no longer lady of Terraphel."
"And the Sheela?"
The guard laughed loudly. "The Sheela! You came for the Sheela?" He paused. "Assassin. This is her doing, isn't it?"
"Yes. It is." They all started as one. Assassin stepped out from behind a tree smiling. With a cool, casual ease, she threw a knife with each hand. Two guards dropped like stones, and she did not pause her slow walk forward. A guard quickly reached for his bow and collapsed with a blade in his throat. The two men holding the Naresh's chain took a trembling step backwards.
"Lady Viella." The head guard bowed low.
Assassin smiled. "You are dead, Sklen. You can talk and die quickly or remain silent and die slowly. And don't even think of releasing that beast on me. You know better." She addressed the Naresh's handlers without looking away from their commander. "If you dispatch that animal immediately, you two can leave alive." The Naresh's head was on the ground in an instant, the body thrashing with the remnants of its life.
Kalen remained on the ground. He could not help but be caught up in the awe and terror of the guards. He had thought Assassin subhuman, but now she seemed almost godlike.
"Where is my beloved mother? I miss her."
"Fellyre. Zerak has made her High Priestess."
"You are lying. It has been five days That much cannot change in so short a time."
"The Sheela is finished. Lady Symorkhel left four days ago and took her pet with her. They will be in Fellyre by now."

Chapter 11

Syxel, the City of Lights and legends. Syxel, birthplace of Lord Taril, center of Ithien-worship. Truly, Ithien had forsaken these lands.
All Kalen could do was stare. What perverted savages would think of such a thing? The walls were torn down and stripped of their silver--all but the Eternal Spire. The ancient monument, the only one still standing from when the city had first been erected, five hundred years since, had been turned into a monstrosity. The sides, half-way up, were painted with flaking dried blood. Bodies of warriors were pinned to the spire with massive spikes driven through their hearts, and all around, decapitated bodies of men, women, and children were strewn all laid out carefully, with their heads lying at their feet in a grotesque distortion.
"Look well, Tassin," Assassin's cold voice rang out in the empty space. "Behold the work of Fellyre. There will be no peace for your people until they are overthrown. They do not delight in conquest so much as cruelty. They revel in it. And you, man of Hyedan: these are the people in whose hands you have left your sister." She turned to Kalen, who had sank to his knees. He could not--would not look at the faces. He didn't want to know. "Elnite, think of your friends and family who lie here. Those who butchered them and desecrated their bodies--do you not want revenge? Follow me and we will overthrow Fellyre's plans. We will weaken them such that they may yet fall."
Revenge. The word seemed meaningless. All Kalen could feel was a hollow nausea. Dallanis, Aethan, Taldyr--and so many others. They had trained together, fought together--the countless evening of laughter and humble feasting beside a roaring fire, the foolish horse-racing that had nearly sent twenty of them home, the early mornings when they stumbled out of the tents, rumpled and bleary eyed--gone. A sickening guilt washed over him. He had fled the field. He should have stay--stayed and died with them.  The Four Loyalties--he had failed them all. He saw, once again, the girl with the arrow in her throat. She had the courage--she had died for her people. She had died for him. All the Elnites lying here had died because of him. They had been sent there because of him. Dallanis had been right: they should have deserted.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Eldan. But it was she who had taken him from this field of death. He pulled away involuntarily. If she had only left him...
"Kalen." Her voice was no more than a distant whisper against the torrent of accusations and questions raging in his mind. "Kalen, look at me." She knelt in front of him, her eyes unavoidable. "I know what's going through your head. Your death would have changed nothing here. It is no sin to survive."
"And no sin to avenge." Assassin's tone was cool. Kalen realized he hated her.  She was unmoved by the carnage--she had brought them here to serve her own ends. She only cared about his grief if it served her purposes. He turned to face her and--Eldan's hand tightened on his arm in an effort to restrain him.
Assassin was moving quickly from body to body, rifling through their gear and weapons. Plundering the dead. She looked up and saw them watching her.
"What? Friend or foe, they have no more need of these. You three are poorly armed. Like it or not, they have what you need." She tossed a sheathed broad sword towards Jaened, but he made no effort to catch it.
"You--" The words came from Kalen with difficulty. "Have you no respect for the dead?"
"No. Nor for the living. Why should I? They've gone where they'll never return. Why would they care what becomes of their carcasses? Come--if your self-righteous sense of  honor won't let you take from your own people, take some Fellyrian gear. It's not half as good quality, though."
After a few minutes, Eldan and Jaened reluctantly took up a few weapons from the dead, but Kalen couldn't. Assissin's logic made sense--cold, heartless sense--but he could only think of what Taldyr would say if he could see them now. How are we better than Fellyre? He recalled the commander's rebuke from years ago. We cannot and we will not stoop to their level. Where is your honor? You call yourselves followers of Ithien? 
"This is a fine piece." Assassin easily spun a massive glaive around. Kalen recognized it immediately. It was Taldyr's. That weapon had been Syriel's pride; she was the only one he permitted to touch it. It had no equal. Now, to see it in the hands of that woman...
"Give me that."
Assassin laughed. "Look who is suddenly interested! Found a weapon that suits your fancy?"
"A plague on you!" Kalen cursed, "That's Taldyr's--you have no right to touch it!"
"I don't care if it belonged to Zerak. It's the finest blade I've ever seen and it's mine. Any who would contest that is welcome to fight me for it." To prove her point, she lowered it so to point was inches from Kalen's face.
"No one is going to fight you for it." Eldan stepped between them. "Right, Kalen?" Kalen lowered his eyes, too angry to reply. How had they let themselves fall into Assassin's power like this?
"We should leave. Whoever did this can't be far away," Jaened put in.
"Fellyre moves quickly, but they wasted a bloody lot of time here." Assassin smirked. "Their arrogance could be there downfall yet." Kalen almost choked. You're one to talk of arrogance! "But if you have all you need, we can go."
Their pace was slower, laden down with weapons. Jaened had acquired a Syxelite mail shirt and a round Fellyrian shield as well as the sword Assassin had given him, and Eldan now had a crossbow bound to her back. Assassin led the way, pointing directions with Taldyr's glaive.  She had taken a bronze helm with a rough half-mask which made her look more manly than ever, and four swords of varying length and make had joined hers on her belt. Kalen marveled that she could walk at all. Marveled and wished it otherwise. If she dropped dead in her tracks, he would have been glad. The force of his hatred surprised him, but it felt good in the place of the numb horror of the carnage at Syxel.
"We will be at Terraphel by nightfall. I trust you all know how to use those weapons?" When Jaened admitted that he did not, Assassin called a halt and, laying aside the rest, drew her old sword.
"Attack me."

It was both sad and comical to watch Jaened try to fight Assassin. She fought carelessly, holding the blade with only two fingers at times, but every time he swung, she sent him to the ground with the flat of her sword. Finally, she laid her sword aside and challenged him again. He swung his blade at her neck and she dove for his feet and laid him flat again, effortlessly catching his blade and disarming him. He tried again, and she sent him flying without even looking. At last, she stepped back.
"You're hopeless." There was no humor in her tone. "You'll never be a warrior. You are more a danger to yourself than anyone else with that blade." She took it away and put it in Kalen's hands before he could protest. "That shield will be your weapon. Don't fight. We need you alive."

They walked on in silence. Kalen suspected that she had done that, not to train Jaened, but to show them all her strength and skill. The sooner they were finished at Terraphel, the sooner they would be free of her. And that was all Kalen wanted.

The Beast

"You have been dreaming again." It wasn't a question. Claire nodded miserably. Her psychiatrist gave her his professionally sympathetic smile. "Can you describe it to me?"
"It was the same again. I saw myself, but it didn't look like me."
"And what did it look like?"
"Distorted. Hideous. Evil. It's hard to describe, but I was a monster."
"No, you weren't. Remember, Claire, the person in your dreams is not you. It may be like you, but you are not that, so that is not you."
"But it is me. I know myself--even as each dream shows a darker version, I know they are me. It's like I am seeing my true self for the first time."
"You need to stop looking at yourself that way. Look around--you are a sweet, kind, friendly young woman. Ask anyone--everyone who knows you loves you."
"They love me because they don't know me. They don't know the real Claire--the Claire I have met in my dreams."

Back and forth, they went. Claire insisted, Dr. Seger denied.So the session went, only this time, she would not be convinced.
"I have to leave. We've been here for hours." She did not wait for him to protest, but snatched up her purse and coat. The door snapped shut behind her with a deafening force. Looking out the window, he saw her jump into her little car and rip out of the parking space with a violence. There was only one thing to be done.
He had the number on speed dial.
"We're losing Claire. She may never come back." He cringed as he waited for the burst of anger from the other end. He knew he deserved it. He had been careless--again. But it did not come.
"Does he have her?" The icy voice on the line demanded.
"No--not yet, at least. But it's only a matter of time. We've seen this before."
"We can still stop her. We stopped Evan, and he was further gone than her."
"Evan is dead. What's the use in that?"
"He does not have Evan. It is the only way. Claire must be eliminated."
"Yes, my lord."

The door was locked. Claire cursed her luck as she fished around in her purse for the keys she knew she did not have. Perhaps one day, Jesse would remember that two lived in this house. The lights were off and his truck was gone. All her phone calls went straight to voice mail. Another night in her car. She rapidly texted Jesse her explicit opinion of him. Just as she hit 'send', the image surged back into her mind. Claire the Monster. She staggered back against the porch railing. The monster from her dreams--it was leaking through into the real world. The text suddenly was a dark, hideous thing--already sent, an irreversible evil.
I have to call Dr. Seger! Her thumb hovered a moment over the phone. What help has he ever provided? He'll just say it was a dream. She returned to her car and rested her head against wheel. Who else was there to turn to? Jesse would think she was nuts. Her parents--she laughed out loud at the thought. They would never understand--as usual.
No one. Alone in the world. Claire wished that Dr. Seger was right. If only this was just a mixture of childhood trauma and deep-seated fears. If only it could be fixed by a little self-esteem boost. Night slowly gathered around her blue Sunfire as she tried in vain to answer the many questions tormenting her. Finally, she sank back into the seat and let the warmth of summer night, mixed with the stress of the day draw her to sleep.

She was choking on blood. Hideous gasps and snarls filled the air as she thrashed about, tearing the turf and corpses strewn about her. She had killed them all--Jesse, her parents, Dr. Seger, her neighbors--everyone. Now, not her blood, but theirs was stifling her life. She struggle to rise from the mound of bodies, but her claws were tangled in the gore, binding her to her victims.
"Claire." She twisted her neck, trying to find the source of the voice. An unfamiliar face looked down on her. The stranger approached slowly and deftly set to loosing her from the gristly bonds. Finally, she tore free, and sprang to feet, spitting out the mass of blood. But seeing herself free, she turned on the stranger with a mad fury and--

Claire awoke with a scream. She clutched her throat, still gagging from the dream. She felt her nails catch in the fabric of her seat. She held the hand up against the dim glow of the street light. The gnarled, hairy fingers, the four-inch claws--in terror, she turned to the mirror. The fangs glowed faintly with their own light. Her eyes were swallowed up in massive holes of blackness. She had become the beast of her nightmares. No! It's impossible--I'm still dreaming. The grotesque hands trembled as she lied to reassure herself. But it was real. She could feel her hair rising in sharp bristles along her neck and her leathery skin scraped against her sleeves. Everything in her wanted to scream, but she did not dare to think what monstrous roars would come if she opened her mouth.
She fumbled with the ignition until the engine came to life. Now Dr. Seger would have to believe her.
The sun was rising as she pulled up in fron of his office. A few teens loitering in front glanced up before she could hide her face. Strangely, they didn't react but just returned to their business. She checked the mirror again. Was she the only one who could see it? Perhaps it was just the window tint hiding her from them. She pulled her hood up and hid her claws in her pockets and quickly stepped out of her car. She ran to the door, keeping her head low. Then she saw him.
A dark-haired man, waiting patiently for the light to turn at the crosswalk. The stranger from her dream. Forget Dr. Seger--if anyone could help her, it was that man. She turned back to her car, opened the door and--
Crrash!!!
The door was ripped from her hands as the car flew forward and up on on the sidewalk. Pedestrians scattered as a massive tanker truck followed the car. Claire jumped back just in time. The side of the tanker tore against her, spinning her around and sending her backwards onto the sidewalk.
She had no time to register what had just happened before a strong hand seized her claw and hauled her to her feet. She found herself face to face with the stranger from her dreams. She could see herself reflected in his eyes. He could see the beast.
"Claire!" She started at Dr. Seger's voice. He was standing in the doorway of the office building, eyes wide with horror at the scene that had just played out on the street. He was beside her in an instant. "I saw it all. Are you hurt? Come in--can you walk?" He took her arm. "Lean on me--it's--"
"I'll take her." The stranger said firmly. Dr. Seger looked at him in disbelief for a moment, then turned to Claire.
"Come, Claire. You know me. This man could be almost anyone. I will take you to the hospital." He doesn't see it. Claire realized.
"N-No. I'll go with him. He's a friend." She silently hoped that that was true.
Dr. Seger's grip on her arm tightened.  "It would be much safer if--"
"Release her, Seger." The stranger's voice was calm but firm. "You and your lord have lost this one. My Master calls for her." For a moment,  the doctor looked like her would throw himself at the man's throat, but instead he let go of Claire's arm and fell back a step. The man let Claire lean on him as they began to make their way down the chaotic street. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Dr. Seger stare at her for a moment, then bolt back into the office building.
"Watch your step." Claire stumbled over the sudden dip in the pavement.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To a friend. You do not know him, but he has been watching you for a long time. Now that you see what he has known all along, He is able to help you."

The street gave way to a small city park. They turned off and and followed a walking path to an ancient stone building, worn with ages of neglect. The door stood wide open, but the park was empty. Claire hesitated on the threshold.
"How will he help me? Can he make me like I was before the dreams?"
"No. You cannot go back, Claire. You have always been as you are now, but you never before saw it. For you to be free, the beast must die."
"But that will kill me! The beast is  me."
"It is. But it does not have to be. Come. My Master will show you how."
Claire hesitated only a moment. She could not live like this. Even if it killed her, it could not make things any worse.
The light inside startled her--it had looked so dark from without. She searched the hall. "Where is your master?"
The man turned to Claire. "Do you not know?" She shook her head, and he beckoned to a door on the side. Claire could smell the blood before she saw it. It spattered the walls and streaked the floor of a room riddled with carnage. Even the stone walls were chipped and cracked, while all that was left of furniture was splinters. Her guide held the door. "This is where your kind attacked him."
My kind... "You mean the beast?"
"I mean your kind. My Master came to destroy the beasts."
"But they killed him?"
"He did what he came to do. He opened the portal." He pointed to yet another door--a door she could have sworn was not there ten seconds earlier. The door was pure red, as though made of blood. Claire took half a step forward and the door flew open of its own accord, revealing nothing but blackness.
She hesitated.
"Go in, Claire. If you would be free, go and do not stop!"
The darkness gave way to blinding light as she stepped through. She took a few steps, blinking, trying to make out her surroundings. Then she caught a glimpse of her hand. It was a hand. The claws were gone, then skin was smoothed. How could it be that easy? She looked up again. She was in a field, the source of light somewhere beyond her, on level with the land. But who cared? She was free--
A snarl behind her made her start. Turning, she saw it--the fangs, the bloody claws, the hollow, black eyes--the beast. Go and do not stop. Go where? The light blazed brighter than before and she turned to run to it. She had never run so fast in her life. Heart pounding, lungs aching, she did not dare to stop. The beast was only a few paces behind her, running on all fours like a grotesque, malformed wolf. She could feel the heat of the light as she drew closer. She could not look at it, so she ran with her eyes closed until she collapsed.
She lay still, waiting for the beast to kill her. There was no escape. The stranger had lied to her. But the attack never came. She turned to see a brilliant figure--he had to be the source of the light--standing between her and the beast. The beast snarled and gnashed it's fangs, but it hung back. The shining figure drew a sword and struck the beast in the head. Claire fell back with a shock of pain, but it faded as quickly as it came. The beast turned and fled, leaving a trail of blood.
"Claire."
Claire did not dare to look this man in the eye. "Are you the Master who opened the portal?" She asked the ground at his feet.
"I am. And I am he who called you here. I sent my messenger to bring you and you have come."
"Is the beast dead? Or will it return?"
"It is dying. I have dealt it a mortal blow. But it is not far away."
"I cannot fight it. If it comes back, it could kill me."
"Stay close to me and it will not." He reached out his glowing hand and she took it. The light shone through her flesh like glass. The two walked together through the grass. So this was what freedom felt like. Claire smiled. She was safe at last.

"You are telling me you let him take her?!"
"I had no choice--I tried--" Dr. Seger protested
"Tried! You failed, Seger--Failed again! Incompetent fool! You were supposed to kill her. Now she's lost to us forever!"
"My lord, he called for her. What did you expect me to do? I cannot stop him. He--" The line went dead.