Read Online Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) by Scott Appleton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Scott Appleton
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stood and strode back to Wisdom’s side. “What is the meaning of this!” But Wisdom slipped her hand out of his. Sweeping to the second man’s side, she knelt beside him and spoke in his ear. Specter strained to hear.
“Sir, will you harken to Wisdom’s call? Come away with me!” she said.
The man stood with her, and she smiled up at him. Still holding his sponge, the man followed her out of the cave. Specter kept a short distance behind them. His mind struggled to understand what Wisdom might be teaching him.
Wisdom and the man stepped into the blinding radiance of Yimshi’s rays. The man laid the sponge on a flat rock by the cave entrance, and Wisdom laid him in the grass. “Sleep for a time to refresh yourself.” And for a long while Specter watched his duplicate asleep in the grass. The man bore a smile, and his chest heaved with each breath of fresh air—and he had two hands. In that, at least, Specter took a small comfort. At last Wisdom roused the man. She instructed him to retrieve his sponge and wring it out. He did so, and not a single drop fell from it. “Go,” Wisdom said. “The task awaits you.” The man bowed and reentered the cave whistling a quiet melody.
Taking Specter’s hand, Wisdom led him inside. The first man still fought with his wet sponge. When they arrived at the second man, they found him hard at work. Specter noted that this man had succeeded in drying several times the area that the first man had.
“You now have your lesson, Specter.” Wisdom kissed his cheek and evaporated into mist. His duplicates also vanished. He frowned and climbed out of the cave.
Patient the shepherd greeted him with a hard stare. The old man shook his head and set down his lamb. “Specter, were you able to discern Wisdom’s message?”
“Master, I am thoroughly confused. Though I suspect you are about to reveal to me the merits of what I saw.”
“Truly you have wandered off the enlightened path.” The prophet leaned on his shepherd’s staff and sighed. “You are the men in that cave, Specter. On the one hand, you are the man with the sopping sponge. So intent are you on destroying the wicked that you fail to see you have lost your effectiveness. The other man is the man you used to be and the man you must become again. When Wisdom comes to you and pulls you aside, you listen. When she leads you away from your task in order to strengthen you, you follow. And when she tells you to return and finish your task, you obey.”
Shame fell over Specter’s soul. He lowered his gaze and knelt on the ground. Patient was right, as was the great white dragon. “Forgive me. I did not see.”
“Ah, but the important thing is that you come to see again.” The prophet knelt and folded his hands. Specter stood with head bowed. Patient’s eyes closed, and a smile brightened his countenance. “Too long you have fought. For now you must leave the sponge on the rock so that it may dry. And when your usefulness is wholly restored, you will be wakened to finish your task.”
The prophet stood and raised his foot into the air, then set it on an invisible step. Then he lifted his other foot. As if on an invisible stairway to heaven, the prophet climbed toward a distant cloud. “Come along, Specter. Have a little faith.”
Specter walked over to the first invisible step and lifted his foot. At first he found no footing. Closing his eyes, he stepped again, and this time landed on something smooth and firm. Upward he climbed, eyes closed for fear of losing the trust he placed in the shepherd’s guidance. Then a wrinkled hand grabbed his stub of an arm, and he opened his eyes. The prophet and he stood on a puffy white cloud. On the distant horizon a few more clouds presented themselves. A shiver ran through his body, but the old prophet put an arm around his shoulders and pointed into the distance.
Over the edge of their cloud he could see the mountains he had stepped off of—yet their peaks fell far below
“Sir, will you harken to Wisdom’s call? Come away with me!” she said.
The man stood with her, and she smiled up at him. Still holding his sponge, the man followed her out of the cave. Specter kept a short distance behind them. His mind struggled to understand what Wisdom might be teaching him.
Wisdom and the man stepped into the blinding radiance of Yimshi’s rays. The man laid the sponge on a flat rock by the cave entrance, and Wisdom laid him in the grass. “Sleep for a time to refresh yourself.” And for a long while Specter watched his duplicate asleep in the grass. The man bore a smile, and his chest heaved with each breath of fresh air—and he had two hands. In that, at least, Specter took a small comfort. At last Wisdom roused the man. She instructed him to retrieve his sponge and wring it out. He did so, and not a single drop fell from it. “Go,” Wisdom said. “The task awaits you.” The man bowed and reentered the cave whistling a quiet melody.
Taking Specter’s hand, Wisdom led him inside. The first man still fought with his wet sponge. When they arrived at the second man, they found him hard at work. Specter noted that this man had succeeded in drying several times the area that the first man had.
“You now have your lesson, Specter.” Wisdom kissed his cheek and evaporated into mist. His duplicates also vanished. He frowned and climbed out of the cave.
Patient the shepherd greeted him with a hard stare. The old man shook his head and set down his lamb. “Specter, were you able to discern Wisdom’s message?”
“Master, I am thoroughly confused. Though I suspect you are about to reveal to me the merits of what I saw.”
“Truly you have wandered off the enlightened path.” The prophet leaned on his shepherd’s staff and sighed. “You are the men in that cave, Specter. On the one hand, you are the man with the sopping sponge. So intent are you on destroying the wicked that you fail to see you have lost your effectiveness. The other man is the man you used to be and the man you must become again. When Wisdom comes to you and pulls you aside, you listen. When she leads you away from your task in order to strengthen you, you follow. And when she tells you to return and finish your task, you obey.”
Shame fell over Specter’s soul. He lowered his gaze and knelt on the ground. Patient was right, as was the great white dragon. “Forgive me. I did not see.”
“Ah, but the important thing is that you come to see again.” The prophet knelt and folded his hands. Specter stood with head bowed. Patient’s eyes closed, and a smile brightened his countenance. “Too long you have fought. For now you must leave the sponge on the rock so that it may dry. And when your usefulness is wholly restored, you will be wakened to finish your task.”
The prophet stood and raised his foot into the air, then set it on an invisible step. Then he lifted his other foot. As if on an invisible stairway to heaven, the prophet climbed toward a distant cloud. “Come along, Specter. Have a little faith.”
Specter walked over to the first invisible step and lifted his foot. At first he found no footing. Closing his eyes, he stepped again, and this time landed on something smooth and firm. Upward he climbed, eyes closed for fear of losing the trust he placed in the shepherd’s guidance. Then a wrinkled hand grabbed his stub of an arm, and he opened his eyes. The prophet and he stood on a puffy white cloud. On the distant horizon a few more clouds presented themselves. A shiver ran through his body, but the old prophet put an arm around his shoulders and pointed into the distance.
Over the edge of their cloud he could see the mountains he had stepped off of—yet their peaks fell far below
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