Bright

   Seeker’s thoughts swarmed, relentless as flies.  Watchful gone.  Palace Beautiful in ruins.  He had considered the possibility.  But he had been sure there would be a cottage.  And there was—only they had been turned away.  Because of him.

   He pulled out his pouch, idly filled the pipe’s bowl, and tamped it down with his thumb.  Flint struck steel, sparks catching until the tobacco smoldered, a thin curl of smoke rising.

    The ruins were no place for a baby—least of all Wonderful.  And it was far too late to start down the other side.  And there was no guarantee anyone would take them in at the bottom.  He wanted to march back and tell the man at the cottage exactly what he thought of him.

    Beautiful scoffed.  “Smoking again, Seeker?”

    “I have to think,” he said.

   “When are you going to quit?”

   “Not now, Beautiful,” he growled, pipe clenched tight between his teeth.

    “Daddy, what you doing?” Bright asked.

    “You’re being a bad influence on Bright,” she snapped.

    “All right!” he snapped.  He drew hard on the pipe, then banged it twice against the stair, scattering ash and tobacco across the stone.  A jolt shot through him—he froze.  “Beautiful!”

    Lightning flashed in her eyes.  “What?” she demanded.  Behind her, Giant Wrath loomed.  Seeker lunged for his staff.  Beautiful whirled, terror breaking across her face.  Wrath struck—one shove, and she went sprawling.  She hit the ground hard and lay motionless.

    Seeker charged and swung his staff with all his strength.  The blow landed solid—but Wrath didn’t even flinch.  It was nothing to him.  The giant’s fist came down like a hammer, slamming Seeker’s chest.  His breath vanished in a rush, and the world spun as he was hurled backward, crashing to the ground.

   Red bled at the edges of his vision.  He rolled to his side, fighting for air.  The old bruise flared, pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat.  Wonderful’s wail split the air.  Out of the corner of his eye, Comfort snatched Wonderful and darted into the ruined Palace.

    The giant fixed him with a stare, contempt burning in his eyes.  Then he turned away, lumbering toward Beautiful.  Bright planted his feet, Seeker’s staff gripped in both hands, barring the way.

    “You,” the giant sneered.  “You think you can protect her?”  With a flick of his massive hand, he swatted Bright aside as though he were nothing.  The boy hit the ground hard and burst into sobs.

   Seeker lunged, driving his fist into the giant’s leg with all his weight behind it.  Pain shot through his hand, white-hot.  The giant’s flesh was harder than the mill’s stone wall.

    Giant Wrath seized him and lifted him high.  Seeker thrashed, straining to break free, but the giant only bounded toward the palace.  With a brutal swing, he slammed Seeker against a stone pillar.  Blinding pain ripped through his arm as the pillar cracked—and his bone snapped with it.

   Giant Wrath howled in glee and hurled Seeker to the ground.  He struggled to rise, but the giant’s club smashed into his side, a rib giving way with a crack.  Another blow followed, then another.  Seeker curled tight, arms over his head, as the strikes rained down.  Darkness swallowed him.

***

    Beautiful pushed up onto her elbow, heart pounding.  Helpless, she watched as Giant Wrath’s blows rained down on Seeker, each one thudding through her chest as if she’d been struck herself.  At last, the giant grunted in grim satisfaction.  His eyes cut to her—a mocking, lingering glance—before he turned and lumbered off.

    “Seeker?” Her cry broke from her throat as she stumbled forward, pain lancing up her back.  She dropped to her knees beside him.  His eyes were shut, his body slack.  “Seeker!” The word came out as a gasp.  She bent low, pressing her ear to his lips.  A whisper of breath touched her skin—slow, faint, but there.

   Panic surged through her.  Wonderful?  Bright?  Her gaze darted wildly in the fading light until she found him—Bright, sprawled on the ground, Seeker’s staff clutched tight in his small hands.  She rushed to his side.

   Bright pushed himself upright, wincing.  “Mama… my foot hurts.”

   Beautiful caught him up in her arms, clutching him tight.  “Oh, Bright.  Oh, my Bright.”  Her voice broke into sobs.

   Comfort appeared on the stairs with Wonderful in her arms—somehow, she had soothed her cries.  Beautiful’s gaze darted from Bright to Comfort.

   “Go,” Comfort urged.  She bent toward Bright.  “Come into the palace with your sister.  You’ll be safe there.”

    Beautiful dropped to her knees beside Seeker, resting a trembling hand on his chest.  She breathed a prayer to the King. “Please keep him safe.  Keep him alive.”  Then she rose and sprinted toward the cottage with all the strength left in her.

    A faint light flickered in the window.  She pounded on the door.  No answer.  She struck it again, harder.  Still silence.  Her hand seized the latch—locked.  She hammered with all her strength, voice breaking in her chest.  Please… please, answer.

   At last, a woman’s voice drifted through the door.  “We can’t help you.  Go away.”

   “Please,” Beautiful cried, “Seeker needs help!”

   The light inside flickered—and went dark.  She was left in silence, in shadow.  Her knees buckled.  She crumpled to the ground, tears spilling hot down her cheeks.  “Oh, Almighty King,” she whispered, broken.  “I beg You—please… help us.”

    Unlike Bright, Wonderful was a fussy baby.  She wailed for every reason—and for none at all—her piercing cries echoing through the cave.

    Bright filled the days playing with her, talking to her as if she understood every word.  She surprised them all when she pulled herself upright, stumbled into her first steps, and soon found her voice.

    “Wonderful, look!” Bright called.

    “No!” Wonderful shot back, her favorite word as sharp as her cry.

    When Seeker ventured from the cave, he found the giant gone.  The camp lay deserted, as if it hadn’t been touched in days—perhaps weeks.  He searched the rocky slope, even walked down to the Arbor, but there was no trace.  Giant Wrath had vanished.

    When Seeker told Beautiful, she let out a long sigh of relief.  “It’s so boring here.  I’d give anything for a bowl of Miss Cheerful’s stew again.”  She chuckled, the sound soft but genuine.

   Seeker checked again and again over the next few days.  Only when he and Beautiful were certain that Wrath was truly gone did they resolve to continue the climb to Palace Beautiful, gathering up their few belongings to set out once more.

    Seeker hefted the burden onto his back and gripped his staff.  Beautiful cradled Wonderful in her arms, while Comfort took Bright by the hand.

    “Walk!” demanded Wonderful, wriggling in Beautiful’s arms.  “Walk!”

    With a small shrug, Beautiful set her down.  Wonderful darted up the trail, then stopped to scoop up a pebble, staring it in wide-eyed wonder.

    Beautiful reached for her hand.  

    “No!”  Wonderful yanked free and scampered a few steps ahead.  She bent to snatch up another pebble and held it high.  “Look, Bright!”

    “Wonderful.”  Beautiful let out a sigh, half tired, half amused.  “If you’re going to walk, then walk—don’t stop for every pretty rock along the way.”

    Wonderful darted ahead and stopped again.  From a crack in the stone a daisy grew, small and stubborn.  She plucked it and lifted it high.  “Here, Mama!”

    Soon Wonderful grew weary and stretched out her arms.  Beautiful gathered her onto her hip.  “Will this hill never end?” she muttered.

   Seeker swiped the sweat from his brow and nodded toward the rise ahead.  “I think that’s the top.”

    “You said that the last time,” Beautiful shot back.

    Bright stuck out his bottom lip, while Wonderful had already slipped into sleep against her mother’s shoulder.

    To pass the time, Seeker told Bright about Palace Beautiful from his Book.  Other than the Delectable Mountains, it was the loveliest place in the land.  He spoke of the lions, too, cautioning, “Remember—they’re chained.  They’re only there to test how brave you are.”

    “I’m brave, Daddy!” Bright exclaimed.

    Seeker nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.  “Yes, Bright.  Yes, you are.”

    Gradually tufts of grass broke through the stones, and the path began to level.  Beautiful’s face lit up.  “We did it!” she gasped between ragged breaths.

    To the left of the way stood a small thicket of trees and a low wall of rough-hewn stone enclosing a narrow plot of land.  Seeker set down his burden, and Beautiful eased herself to the ground, leaning back against a tree with Wonderful nestled in her lap.  Bright sank beside her, pressing close.

    Seeker pushed open the wrought-iron gate and stepped inside.  Five headstones.  Five names.  His heart sank—he didn’t need to read them to know.  He knelt at the first stone.  Watchful.   He swallowed hard.  Discretion.  Prudence.  Piety.  Charity.

    He rose slowly, gave the stones one last lingering look, then turned away.  Back at the gate, he trudged to his burden and heaved it onto his back.  Bright had dozed off; Comfort gathered him gently into her arms.

    “What is it?”  Beautiful asked, shifting Wonderful higher on her shoulder as she stood.

    Seeker only shook his head.  He could not bring himself to speak.

    When they reached the clearing, Palace Beautiful rose before them.  Its red-brick walls and pale cornerstones stood weathered and crumbling.  Stairs climbed to an arched entry, where white stone columns still held beneath the weight of centuries—edges worn but unbroken.  Above, the roof had long since fallen, leaving jagged teeth of masonry biting into the sky.

    “Of course,” Seeker said.  “Everything changes.  No Watchful.  No Charity.”

    Beautiful only stared.

    “Come, my love,” he murmured.  “There may be a cottage nearby.”

    Seeker was right.  Just around the bend stood a timber-framed cottage, much like the one they had stayed in near the Interpreter’s house.  But no smoke curled from the chimney, and no voices drifted from within.  Seeker strode to the door and rapped his knuckles against the wood.  Then he knocked again, harder.

    A well-dressed man opened the door.  His face was kind, framed by graying hair, his build still strong though softened with age.  There was a trace of swagger in the way he carried himself.

    Beautiful lifted her eyes to him and smiled.  “We are pilgrims on the Narrow Way,” she said.  “We’re looking for a place to stay for a season.”

   He looked kindly at Beautiful, Bright, and Wonderful.  Then Seeker felt the man’s gaze rake over him—his shabby, sweat-drenched clothes, torn and patched.  The heavy burden dragging at his shoulders.  At last, the man’s eyes fixed on the dark bruise that still marred Seeker’s forehead after more than a year.  Fear flickered across his face.

    “I’m sorry,” he said, his glance darting back at Seeker, “I can spare provisions, but there’s no room here.”

    They lingered a few minutes more, but when the door finally shut, lightning flashed in Beautiful’s eyes.  “No room,” she scoffed.  “Half the house is empty.  No room!”  She huffed, sharp and indignant.

    Seeker set his burden down and sank onto the Palace steps.  From the satchel he drew his pipe.  He had to think.  He needed a plan.  But he was tired—so tired.  And beneath the weariness, the old ire was beginning to stir.

    One spring morning Seeker woke to sunlight streaming into their chamber. Beautiful touched his shoulder and shook him gently. “It’s time,” she whispered.

    “I’ll go get Comfort,” he said, easing her onto the stone slab. Bright trailed him up the stairs to the main room.

    “Play with your toys. Are you excited to meet your new sister?”

    Bright blinked at him, puzzled.

    Just then Comfort entered, met Seeker’s eyes, and gave a quick nod. “Boil some water,” she said, already moving down the stairs.

    Within minutes Seeker had a fire roaring. He filled the kettle from the basin with his tin cup and set it in the hearth.

    When the kettle began to whistle, Seeker rested a hand on Bright’s shoulder. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

    Bright looked up from his book. “Okay, Daddy.”

    Seeker took up the kettle and hurried back down the stairs.

    “Push!” Comfort’s voice rang down the passage. Beautiful cried out in pain.

    Then came the sharp cry of a newborn. Seeker blinked. Already? He had braced himself for a long night of struggle.

    He stepped into the doorway, and Comfort lifted the child for him to see. His heart skipped a beat. Wonderful. She was so small, her head perfectly round, her skin flushed red as a beet. He had never seen a more beautiful sight in all his life.

    “Hello, Wonderful,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears. She reached out and wrapped her tiny hand around his finger, holding fast.

    Comfort laid Wonderful on a towel, poured water into a basin, and dipped a strip of linen to wash her gently.

    Seeker took Beautiful’s hand. Her skin glowed, her eyes soft. “How’s my Beautiful?” he asked.

    She smiled.

    Comfort wrapped Wonderful in a swaddling cloth and placed her in Seeker’s arms. She gave a small curtsey, then slipped quietly away.

    “Here’s our daughter, Wonderful,” he said, and gently laid her in Beautiful’s arms.

    Beautiful gazed down at her. At last, she whispered, “She looks just like you—only prettier.” She smiled, and the whole room seemed to brighten.

    Comfort reappeared, leading Bright by the hand.

    Bright stopped, stared, and pointed. “Ahahahaha—it’s a baby!” He paused, frowning. “Where did… she… come from?”

    Beautiful laughed. “She came from my belly. She’s your sister—Wonderful.”

    “From your belly?” Bright giggled. “Don’t be silly, Mama.”

    He crept closer, touched her with one tentative finger, then laughed again. Leaning over, he planted a quick kiss on her head.

    “You love your baby sister, don’t you?” Seeker asked.

   Bright nodded, then his face fell. Sadness crept in, and he lowered his head.

    Beautiful held Wonderful out. “Go to Daddy, Wonderful.” Then she drew Bright onto the bed. He snuggled against her, and she rocked him gently.

    “Don’t be sad, Bright,” she whispered. “You’re still my baby too. You’ll always be my baby.”

    Seeker cradled Wonderful against his chest and sang softly:

Wonderful—

Born in adversity,

Strong and true,

You shine like a priceless gem,

Bringing redemption with you

    The edges of the chamber dissolved into shadow in the fading light, leaving the space at once cavernous and secure.  One wall held a hollowed hearth, and a narrow flue carved upward like a chimney, the stone above streaked black with old smoke.  In a side alcove, branches lay stacked in neat order, cut and ready.  Seeker crossed two sticks, tucked kindling between, and struck steel to flint.  Sparks caught, and soon a flame licked upward.  Fire pushed back the darkness, casting the room in a shifting, golden glow.

    On the opposite wall, a thin thread of water trickled into a carved stone basin—broad and low, its rim worn smooth by years of use.

    Along the chamber’s edges, benches and low seats had been hewn from the rock itself, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of weary pilgrims leaning here.

    They sat in silence, watching until the fire sank low.  Then moonbeams spilled through the skylights, flooding the chamber with light almost as bright as day.

    Seeker set his hands to the stone, ready to roll it back.  Beautiful touched him lightly, her hand soft against his.  “Don’t,” she whispered.  “He might still be out there.”

    Seeker nodded and let his hand fall.  “All right.  Our things can wait until morning.”

    In the silver glow filtering through the shafts, he followed the narrow steps downward to a lower level, where smaller chambers had been cut into granite.  Each held a stone slab for a bed and an alcove stacked with folded woolen blankets.  Seeker, Beautiful, and Bright would share one room, and Comfort would take another.

***

    Morning seeped into the cave in muted light.  Seeker slipped outside to recover his burden and staff.    Beautiful brushed her lips against the dark bruise across his forehead and urged him to tread softly, to keep a watchful eye for Wrath.

    After he left, she began to explore.  The water in the basin shimmered cool and clear—pure enough to drink.

    Beside the hearth stood a wide-mouthed clay jar she hadn’t noticed before—worn and chipped, holding only a few handfuls of meal—and a small clay cruse with a narrow neck, filled with golden oil.  Just enough for several small loaves of bread.  The hearth itself was small and plain, yet large enough to bake them.  With their provisions stolen, this would sustain them only for a day, and they would need to continue on.

–

    Seeker staggered into the doorway, dropped his burden and staff onto the floor, and sank onto a stone seat, chest heaving, sweat streaming down his face.  Beautiful dipped his tin cup into the basin and handed it to him.

    He drank slowly.  “I thought he was gone… until I returned.  He was waiting for me.”  A long breath shuddered from him.

***

    From the chamber where they sat, a stairway climbed deeper into the mountain, ending at a locked door.  Seeker slipped his clasp-knife between the door and jamb and lifted the latch, just as he had done many times at the Interpreter’s tower.

    Inside lay a chamber of pure alabaster, its walls etched with stories of antiquity.  Sunlight poured through the skylights, setting the stone aglow.  Seeker paused before the first relief: two brothers, two altars—one piled with fruit of the field, the other with a lamb.

    “What’s that, Daddy?”  Bright asked, pressing close beside him, eyes fixed on the carving.

   “That’s Cain and Abel, Bright.”

   “Mama read me about them,” he said.  “I like the fruit better.”

    Seeker only nodded.

    Bright pointed at the next carving—the ark that Noah had built.  “He… he brought two of each animal.  One chimpanzee, and one bonobo.  The bonobo was the mama.”

    “Is that so?”  Seeker asked.

    Bright nodded, eyes shining with certainty.

    The walls showed Enoch, who walked with the King, and Abraham setting out with Sarah and Isaac.

    “Just like us, right?”  Bright said.

    And Jacob with his sons—the twelve brothers.  Joseph leading them into Egypt, and Moses bringing them out again.  All around the alabaster chamber more scenes unfolded.  Joshua and Rahab, Gideon, Barak, and Samson; Jephthah, David and Samuel.

    One by one they studied the carvings, Bright’s eyes shining, until they had seen them all.  Then Seeker took his hand and led him back down the stairs to Beautiful.

   “Mama, Mama!  Daddy read me a story.”

   Beautiful glanced at Seeker, puzzled.

   “No,” Seeker said.  “You read him the stories.  I only showed him the pictures.”

***

    Now I saw in my dream that Beautiful baked four loaves, and they ate and were satisfied.

    But when the morning came and Seeker went to the entrance, he saw that Giant Wrath had pitched a camp and kept watch, waiting for them to continue their journey.

    When Beautiful checked the clay jar, she found just enough flour for that day’s need.  The next morning Giant Wrath still waited.  Yet to her surprise, the jar held enough again.

    Days turned into months, yet the giant lingered at the cave’s mouth.  And still the flour never ran out, and the oil never ran dry.  So they remained in the Cave of Resolution until the time came for Beautiful to give birth to Wonderful.

    Hours passed.  The sun slipped behind the peak, and a soothing breeze stirred the air.  Seeker paused, panting for breath.

   Beautiful sighed.  “We must be near the top.”

   Seeker gave a wry laugh.  “Not even halfway.  But the Arbor shouldn’t be far.  We’ll rest there tonight.”

    Bright sprawled in the middle of the path, eyes squeezed shut.

   “Get up, Bright,” Beautiful scolded.  “Don’t lie in the dirt like that.”

   He only moaned in reply.

    “Honey,” she said, “Put your burden down.  Rest a few minutes.”

    Seeker nodded and started to slip his arms from the straps—when a boulder thundered past.

    Seeker’s eyes darted upward.  Had it fallen from the outcropping ahead?  He scanned the rocks, tracing higher—then froze.  Too far.  Too large.  No ordinary man could stand at that distance.  A giant loomed, grotesque in form, clad only in a ragged loincloth, a boulder raised high above his head.

    Beautiful gasped and yanked Bright to his feet.

    The giant hurled the boulder.  It slammed into the path, missing Seeker by a breath, then careened down the slope.

    “Run!” he shouted.

    Beautiful froze, clutching Bright’s hand.  She spun toward the path behind them.

    “Up!  Up!”  Seeker gasped. 

    Bright burst forward, scrambling up the path, with Beautiful close behind.  Seeker’s chest heaved, vision blurring as he fought for breath—but he didn’t slow, driving himself after them.

    “The giant can’t see us here,” Beautiful gasped as they paused in the shadow of the overhang.

    From above came low, angry growls.

    Just ahead lay the Arbor, resting place for pilgrims.  Beautiful pointed, but Seeker shook his head—just as a boulder smashed into the Arbor.

    Comfort came running and stopped beside them, panting and trembling.  A rock crashed at her feet.

    Seeker dropped his burden and seized Bright’s shoulders.  “Run—and don’t stop.  Not until you reach the top.”  He motioned to Beautiful.  “Go!  I’m right behind you.  If I have to slow him down…”  He raised his staff.  “Don’t look back.”

    Beautiful shook her head.  “No!” she cried.

    Another rock slammed into the path.  They didn’t hesitate—they ran, scrambling up the steep incline.

    The path leveled as they neared the Arbor, but they didn’t slow.  Seeker’s vision flared red as pain exploded in his temple.  He sprawled forward, crashing into Beautiful and Bright knocking them tumbling to the ground with him.

   He curled on the ground, crying from the pain, unable to stand, unable even to sit up.    Beautiful and Bright sobbed beside him. 

   A voice boomed across the mountain.  “I am Wrath—bane of your father, and your father’s father.  You cannot defeat me, and you cannot hide.  Wherever you go, I will find you!”

    Silence.  The boulders ceased.  Seeker’s vision cleared.  Beautiful lay on the ground, clutching Bright in her arms, both of them shivering in terror.  Beside them rested the boulder that had struck him.

    They couldn’t stay here.  They couldn’t go back.  Their only hope lay ahead—at the summit, in the safety of Palace Beautiful.  

    He pushed himself to his feet and reached out—one hand for Beautiful, one for Bright—then touched her belly.

    “Is she… is she okay?” he asked.

    Beautiful nodded, tears streaking her cheeks.  She touched his forehead.  Pain shot through his skull, nearly doubling him over.

    “We can’t stay here,” he said.  “He’ll be back.”  He took their hands, and together they climbed upward—slow but steady.

    The ground shook.  Behind them, footsteps echoed—Giant Wrath.  Fear gripped him.  His staff—he’d left it where it fell at the Arbor.  They couldn’t go back now.

    Bright dropped to the ground.

   “Get up!” Seeker barked.  Bright refused.  Seeker scooped him into his arms, and together he and Beautiful ran as fast as they could.

    Then they saw it—a narrow cave mouth just off the path.  Seeker, Bright in his arms, dove inside with Beautiful and Comfort close behind—just as Giant Wrath loomed into view, a massive club sweeping through the air.

    Giant Wrath thrust his club into the cave, but the entrance was too narrow for him to follow.  They groped forward, stumbling through the dark.

   A faint glimmer shone ahead.  They could just make out a doorway—too clean, too well-formed to be natural.

    When they stepped through, they entered a chamber carved from limestone, narrow shafts in the ceiling letting in a soft, steady light.

    By the door stood a great round stone with handholds carved into it.  Seeker strained against it until it rolled into place, sealing the entrance. 

    Then they collapsed onto the floor, breathless with relief.

    The sun stood overhead when they reached the spring at the crossroads.  It lay at the base of the Hill of Difficulty.  Seeker unstrapped their burdens from the donkey and let it wander to graze before the climb ahead.

    Seeker hoped to reach the Arbor before sundown and rest there for the night.  With Beautiful and Bright’s pace, he wouldn’t attempt the summit.  Taking the paths around the mountain—through the Crags of Destruction or the Forest of Danger—was never an option.

    Beautiful spread a cloth and set out bread and cheese.  She dipped Seeker’s tin cup into the cool water of the bubbling spring and handed it to Bright.

    While they ate, four men emerged from the Crags of Destruction—rough-bearded, hard-eyed.  Seeker reached for his staff.

    The leader pointed at the donkey.  “Take it,” he barked.

    Seeker stepped in front of Beautiful and Bright.  One robber moved toward the donkey.  The others closed in on their belongings.  He swung hard.  His staff cracked against a man’s ribs, the sound of wood on bone ringing sharp.  A club struck him from behind.  He staggered.  The staff slipped from his hands as he fell.  A boot slammed into his side and drove the breath from his chest.

    Beautiful cried out, clutching Bright in her arms.  Comfort stepped between them and the men, wrapping her arms protectively around them both.

    “Looky what we have here,” one of the robbers called, holding up the bag of gold.  

    Another slit the canvas with his knife.  Seeker’s books spilled onto the ground.  “Books,” he scoffed.

    A third ripped open the other bags.  Their contents scattered across the dirt.  A plate clattered on the stones and cracked in two.

    Seeker pushed up on his elbow, rage burning through the ache.  He lunged again, but a blow sent him sprawling face-first in the dirt.

    Moments later they were gone—leading the donkey away with their gold and provisions.  Their footsteps faded, leaving only the bubbling of the spring and Bright’s frightened sobs.

    Beautiful rushed to Seeker’s side.  Shards of their dishes lay scattered on the ground.  One of Bright’s toys, a small wooden soldier, lay on its side with an arm broken.

    Seeker reached for his staff, chest heaving, eyes burning with fury.  “They’ll pay for this,” he growled.  He started toward Destruction, but Beautiful caught his hand and held him back.

    “Stop, Seeker,” she begged.  “It’s only things.  We can’t lose you too.”

    Seeker drew a long breath and let it out slowly.  His heart still raced.  He sank onto the grass, fighting to steady himself.  His breath came ragged and uneven.

    “Okay,” he whispered.

***

    Beautiful stitched together the torn canvas the robbers had left, fashioning a pack with straps for Seeker.  She quickly made two smaller bags for herself and Comfort.  Bright put on a brave face and insisted on carrying one too, though Seeker tucked only a few of his toys inside.

    Seeker carved a small sign:  Beware of robbers from Destruction.  He fixed it to a branch and drove it into the ground, laying their broken dishes at its base.

   Beautiful and Comfort helped him shoulder his great burden and slung their own bags across their backs.  Together, they began their ascent.

    Years at the tread-wheel had not prepared him for this.  Within a dozen steps his chest was burning.  His heart pounded, and he could not catch his breath.  The path was rocky.  Sharp stones pressing through his boots.  More than once he slipped on loose gravel, and at last he fell to his hands and knees and needed help to rise.

    The sun beat down on them, and sweat ran freely, soaking his clothes.  His mouth tasted of iron from a split lip in the fall.

    Up the path he heard Bright wailing, “I’m dying, I’m dying!”

   Beautiful, panting, snapped at him, “You’re not dying, Bright.  Just… breathing… hard.  Like Mama.”

    Beautiful turned to Seeker.  “Let’s…  take a break.”

    Seeker agreed, thankful though he hid it.  He leaned forward, easing the weight of his burden from his shoulder.  Beautiful and Bright sat on a rock, drinking from his canteen.  He didn’t dare sit.  If he did, he knew he’d never get back up.

    The irony wasn’t lost on him.  He had started his journey more than ten years before, and yet here he was—clothes worn thin and torn, a huge burden on his back.  Just like Christian at the start of his journey.  Only unlike Christian, he thought bitterly, he was climbing the Hill of Difficulty.

    Seeker and Beautiful began preparing to leave at once.  When he asked about the house, she said, “Leave it.  I don’t want to spend one more minute than we must in this accursed town.”

    Between their savings, Seeker and Beautiful had enough to buy a donkey to carry their belongings, and provisions for their journey.

    Three large canvas bags.  One for Seeker’s books, another for their dishes and Beautiful’s keepsakes, and the last for Bright’s books and toys.

    “What’cha doing, Daddy?” Bright asked.

    “Me and Mama are packing, Bright.”

    “Why?”

    “We’re going to live somewhere else,” Seeker said, tussling Bright’s hair.

    “Where?” Bright’s eyes lit with excitement.

    “Well, Bright, first we have to climb a big mountain.  Then we’ll visit Palace Beautiful.”

    “Daddy, did you know… did you know that’s Mama’s other name?”

    Seeker laughed. “Of course I know, Bright.”

    “Does Mama really have a palace?”

    Beautiful walked into the room, “Nobody knows, Bright.”  Her eyes danced.

    “Will I have friends there?” Bright asked.

    “Lots and lots of them,” Seeker said.  “Are you going to miss your friends here?”

    Bright frowned and shook his head.  “People here are too mean.”

    “Enough questions now, Bright.  Go help your mama pack your toys, okay?”

    “Okay, Daddy!” 

***   

    It was still dark when Seeker loaded their burdens onto the donkey.  As the sun rose, he led it through the village streets, Beautiful following with Bright’s hand in hers.

    In the early morning light Delight took on a sinister new shape—Deceit.  Seven years he had toiled here and never made the connections.  This was where Adam-the-First had tried to enslave Faithful.  Seven years—wasted, he thought bitterly.

    “Seeker!”  The voice cut through the morning quiet as they started across the bridge spanning the ravine.  Jabal strode up to them.  He bowed low.  “Beautiful.”   Impeccably dressed, as always—no hint of sleep left in his face.

    “I didn’t believe the rumors, so I had to come myself.  Didn’t I just give you a promotion?  Name your price, Seeker—you’re like a son to me.”

    “There’s nothing can keep us here,” Beautiful said.

    “I see,” said Jabal. “Seeker?”

    “Yes, Jabal.  We’ve made up our minds.”

    Jabal nodded, then snapped his fingers.  A serving-man stepped from the shadows.  “Bring his payment.”

    The man slipped away toward Jabal’s office.

    “I told you in Delight—”

    “Deceit,” Beautiful corrected.

    “In Desire… um, Delight,” he continued, thrown off beat, “all are rewarded for their hard work.  I wish you’d come to me yesterday.”

    The man reappeared, a folio in one hand and a bag of coins heavy in the other.  

    “Twenty gold down on your house, purchased at one hundred twenty.  Current value—two hundred.  Twenty for my commission.  That leaves one hundred,” Jabal’s voice was businesslike.

    Beautiful’s eyes went wide.  He opened the folio, revealing a note:  Debt paid in full.  Claim to house relinquished.   “Sign here.”

    The serving-man handed him a pen and a bottle of ink.  Seeker dipped the nib and scrawled his name.  Then the man passed him the bag of gold.

    “I trust you don’t feel the need to count it?”  His voice was flat.

    Seeker hefted the bag’s weight.  “No, Jabal.  No need.”

    “Oh, and one other minor thing, remaining, in the terms of your service,” Jabal said.

    Seeker frowned.  Charm stepped from the shadows, her green eyes downcast, her movements quiet.

    “My daughters will travel with you.”

    Beautiful exploded.  “That… that…” She trembled with rage.  “That whore won’t be part of my life—or my son’s.”  She stepped in front of Bright, one hand thrust out in refusal.

    Charm stepped back.

    “Very well,” Jabal said.

    Comfort emerged, tears streaming down her face, and fell to her knees.  “Take me with you, Beautiful.”  Her eyes pleaded.  “Please?”

    Beautiful hesitated.  

    “She,” Comfort spat, “isn’t my sister.”

    “Comfort!” Charm exclaimed.  Jabal frowned and shifted his stance.

    “Haven’t I served you well all these years?  I’ve been faithful—I would never betray you.”  She shot Charm a look of disdain.

    “Very well,” Beautiful said.  She started to rub her belly, then quickly let her hand fall.  “I’m sure you’ll be a help—especially now.”

    “You are always welcome here in Delight,” Jabal said.  He smiled, but the warmth never reached his eyes.

–

    Seeker loaded the gold onto the donkey.  They set out without looking back.  Beautiful walked at Seeker’s side, Bright’s hand in hers, with Comfort trailing behind.

    Beautiful paced the length of the living room, arms wrapped tight around herself.  Bright was asleep.  Seeker was still at the party.  It was late.  Later than it should have gone.   She should have gone with him.  He’d asked—begged almost.  But the thought of seeing him with her had made her stomach twist.  She couldn’t bear it.  She had practically placed him in her arms herself.

    Her heart leapt at every sound in the street, each one a hope that faded as quickly as it rose.  The hours dragged on, and her heart sank lower with every passing moment.  At last—a soft knock on the door.

    Comfort stood on the doorstep, one arm braced around Seeker.  He stumbled inside and collapsed onto the couch, boots and all.

    “Sorry for bringing him home like this, Beautiful,” Comfort said, her eyes full of pain.  “I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t want you to worry.”

   Beautiful nodded. “Thank you.”

    “I thought about taking him to my room—before she took him to hers,” Comfort said softly.  “But I didn’t want you to misunderstand.”

    “You did the right thing, Comfort,” Beautiful said gently.  No one needed her to name who she was.

    After closing the door, Beautiful tugged Seeker’s boots off and dragged him to bed.  The scent of clove and orange clung to him, sharp and unmistakable.  A storm raged in her chest.  She’d let him sleep it off—for now.  Tomorrow, he’d hear what she had to say.  But tonight, she knew, there would be no rest for her.

***

    Seeker woke in his own bed.  Alone.  No Beautiful beside him.  He had no memory of getting home.  Flashes from the celebration flickered through his mind:  Jabal’s toast.  Charm’s green eyes.  Leaving with her.  Shouts between sisters in the street.  Then—blackness.

    Beautiful sat rigid on the couch, thumbing through his Book.  “Where were you last night?”  Her voice was sharp, cutting through the haze in his head.

    “At the party,” he muttered.

    “And?”

    “And nothing.” His voice was flat, defensive.

    She shot to her feet, trembling in rage, and crossed the floor in quick strides.  “You’ve gotten good at lying, Seeker,” she said.

   “Lying?” He snorted.  “I was at the party.  You knew that.”

    “I smell her all over you.  You think I’m stupid?”

    Seeker went still.

    She slammed the Book against his chest and let it drop to the floor.  Her voice turned sharp, mocking.  “Read your damn Book again.  We’re living in Deceit—you should have known that.  Oh, you read and read.  Important books, not like my adventures.  And your books have twisted you.  How to work harder.  To be stoic.  Hide your feelings.”

    Tears streamed down her face.  “I wish I could bite my tongue for ever calling you a baby for crying.   This… man you’ve become is not the one I married.”

    Seeker’s temper flared.  His fist clenched.  She stepped back.  “You’re not the girl I married either.”

    He stepped closer.  “Yawning at our wedding.”

    She stepped back.  He closed the gap.  “Crying when I brought you home.”

    She began to shiver.  He kept coming.  “Cutting your hair.”

    She edged back until her shoulders touched the wall.  “It’s never enough,” he said. “I work, and I work, and all you ever do is cry and complain.”

    Lightning flashed in her eyes.  She clenched her fists at her sides.

    “Go back to Bright-Harbor!” he shouted.  “You don’t love me.  I don’t think you ever did.”  He drove his fist into the wall beside her head.  The crack rang through the room.

    They stood frozen.  She broke into sobs, her body shaking in ragged, shaking motions.

    “Just go,” he said, his voice flat and empty.  “Be happy.”

    “No,” she said.  “I won’t leave you.” She stared at him, despair clouding her eyes.  “I’m pregnant again.”

    Seeker doubled over as if punched in the gut.  He sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

    She kept shaking, tears streaming down her face.  “This time I’m going to give you the daughter you want so much.”  Her voice wavered, breaking to a whisper.  “I thought… if I give him a daughter, he’ll love me again.”  She sank to her knees beside him.  “Maybe?” she pleaded.

    A single tear slid down his cheek.  “Forgive me, Beautiful,” he whispered.

    She gathered his hand in hers.  “I do, Seeker.  I forgive you.”

    She pulled him into her arms and held him tight, her body trembling.  “Let’s leave this dreadful place,” she whispered.  “It was always wrong.  I felt it from the beginning.  Let’s go back to the Narrow Way.”

    “Okay,” he said softly.  “I’ll pack.  We’ll leave right away.  Just you, me, and Bright.”

    She guided his hand to her belly.  “… and Wonderful,” she added.

    “And Wonderful,” he echoed, a smile breaking across his face.

    Now I saw in my dream that years passed.  Seeker took to the foreman’s post and excelled.  Beautiful found odd jobs about the village, yet her loneliness never lifted.  Bright learned to walk; his speech came slow—then all at once, shaping sentences far beyond his years.

    The little house soon felt cramped, so Seeker bought a plot above the ravine, and they raised a new cottage—one room set aside for Bright, and even a small study for himself.

***

    Seeker tapped his pipe against his boot and ash whisked off on the breeze.  He studied the sky—thin clouds coming in fast.  They’d have to chase the weather, but he figured they could finish by dusk.  Men drifted in by twos and threes—two sowing teams, one to harrow behind, and a knot of boys to refill seed bags and clap the crows from the furrows.  Whenever a hand was short, he stepped in—slung a seed bag, took a harrow line, set the pace.  Foreman or not, he worked shoulder to shoulder, and the men answered to that.

    When he looked up, Charm stood at the edge of a furrow—riding skirt hitched clear of the dirt, and an ivory linen blouse soft at the neck with a small keyhole tied by two ribbons and tucked into a narrow leather belt.  Her sleeves were rolled to her forearms.  A single braid lay over one shoulder.  A straw hat shaded her eyes, the ribbon knotted under her chin.

    “They say you work with your men,” she said.  “I came to see it—and to help.”  Her eyes held his.  On her tongue, work slid toward play.

    Seeker frowned.  “Charm, it’s hard work.”  He checked the sky.  “We have to move fast.”

    She smiled, unbothered.  “Try me.”

    One man didn’t show.  Seeker shouldered a seed bag and took the slot.  When a second never came, he glanced at Charm and exhaled.  “Alright.”  She met it with a quiet, satisfied smirk.

    The first team was already moving.  They’d take the next field.  Seeker slung a seed bag across his chest.  A boy trotted after with the spare sacks.  Leapfrog the fields—that was the plan.  Had been anyway.  But he doubted they’d keep up.

    He showed her the sweep.  She copied it and only shrugged.  He passed her the canvas seed bag, and she slung it crosswise as if it weighed nothing.

    She walked the furrow, seed bag tapping her hip.  Hand in, scatter.  The grain fanned clean and even, her arms falling into a steady rhythm.  When the wind shifted, she angled a step into it and kept the fan true—as if she’d done this all her life.

    Seeker followed with the ox, the brushwood harrow rasping the soil and folding it back over the seed.  Behind them the boy snapped his clappers, sharp cracks keeping the crows at bay.

    Row by row she went, pace steady.  He and the ox kept to her line.  When the seed bag ran light, the boy slipped her a fresh one and she never broke stride.  She was as good as any of his men—better, maybe.  No complaining about a chafing strap, no shifting to rest a sore foot, not even a pause to catch her breath.

    They finished the last furrow and walked back to the crew.  A light shower swept the fields, and the men grinned.  Charm stood poised among them—cheeks flushed, but not a bead of sweat—the clove still in the air despite a full day in the fields.

    “Great job, everyone,” Seeker said.  “Take tomorrow off.”

    The men tipped their hats, broke into cheers.  Charm met his eyes, gave a small, satisfied nod.

***

    “Daddy, do you know what, Daddy?” Bright blurted as Seeker stepped in.

   “What, Bright?”

    “Daddy, did you know that chimpanzees eat fruit?  Have you ever seen a chimpanzee?”

    From the other room, Beautiful called, “Boots outside!  Don’t drag mud through the house.”  She stepped into the doorway. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

    He stopped short, staring at her.  Her hair was cut—just to her shoulders.

    “You hate it.”  Her face fell.  

    Seeker sighed.  “I don’t hate it, Beautiful.”

    “Yeah, but you don’t like it, either.”

    “I like it.  I really do.”

    “You’re a horrible liar, Seeker,” she said with a pout.

    He shrugged.  “I can’t lie, Beautiful.  I miss your long curls.”

    Lightning flashed in her eyes.  “You have no idea how hard that was to manage.  Stop trying to control me.”

    He reached for her.  She scoffed, pulled away, and left the room.

***

    Harvest time came, and Seeker’s crew gathered—men testing scythe edges, women twisting straw into bands.

    Charm arrived again—cream shirt rolled to the elbows, earth-brown trousers, and a narrow belt with a knife at her hip.  The men stared and the women glared.

    When the dew lifted, the first mower laid a trial swath.  The line fell into rhythm—mowers swept the lanes, rakers pulled the stems into neat windrows, and binders followed tying the sheaves tight.

    Whetstones sang—tink, tink.  Charm clapped time for the mowers and whistled the binders on.  “Twelve to a chapel!”

    At midday they stopped to hammer the blades and whet them afresh.  They sat in the carts’ shade with bread and cheese and watered ale, and one of the men struck up a song.

    By midafternoon, chaff was everywhere, and the heat was heavy.  Charm sang out, “Straightest row wins an orange!  First to three chapels takes a ribbon!”

–

    Toward dusk, the final shock was set, and his crew shouldered their tools for home.  Seeker wandered to the top of the ravine stairs and drew his pipe from his satchel.

    He packed the bowl, struck flint, and drew.  Smoke drifted into the dusk.  Charm came and sat beside him without a word.  They let the quiet stretch while he smoked.  At last, she spoke.

    “What is it you want from life, Seeker?”

    He snorted.  “What kind of question is that?  Same as any man.  A family.  I have that.”

    She eyed him, amusement flickering.  “You’re not a very convincing liar, Seeker.”

    “And how would you know what I want?”

    “You want love.  And Beautiful doesn’t love you, Seeker.”

   Seeker’s jaw went slack.

   “Oh, Seeker,” she said.  “You poor blind fool.  Everyone sees it—except you.  It’s been five years.  And she’s never been happy.”

    He searched her eyes for mockery, any edge of contempt.  There was none—only a soft pity that made him ache.

    “But Bright…” he began.

    “Yes—Bright,” she said.  “Think of him.  Is it good for a gentle boy to watch his mother sad day after day?  He’s old enough to understand.”

    “I love her.”

    “I know you do—everyone does.  But think about Beautiful.  She’ll be happier in Bright-Harbor.”

    They sat a while.  He tapped out the ash and packed the bowl again.

    “This Saturday marks seven years you’ve served my father.”

    He gave a small nod.

    “He’s throwing a celebration—for you.”  Then softer.  “For us.”

    The words landed heavy.  Seeker couldn’t breathe.

     “Let her go, Seeker.”

    “I can’t.”

    “I know.” Her voice stayed soft.  “It’ll be hard.  She’ll cry.  But she’ll be happier.”

    Seeker stared past the sky—at nothing. 

   “And we will be too,” she murmured.  “You belong here.  With me.”