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  “Do you live alone?” Enoch said.

  “Yes, though I first came here with my wife.”

  “I am sorry,” Enoch said.

  A sigh. “She rests now in the arms of One greater than me.” Barak quieted so that Noah nearly couldn’t hear him say, “Where sickness can no longer reach her.”

  “Why do you live in the wilderness?”

  “Persecution. Most of my fellows were slaughtered for following the Old Way.”

  “Did you flee out of fear?”

  Barak shook his head. “If not for the Almighty’s command, I would have stayed. But my wife . . . had a difficult time.”

  “The sickness?”

  The man nodded, then pointed and said, “Here we are.”

  Ahead loomed a dark mass hugged by tree branches. Through cracks in walls Noah saw a soft, golden glow. As much as he couldn’t believe this shadowy building offered safety, he found himself longing for the comfort of close walls, a full stomach, and the warmth of family.

  But his family had been torn away. Elina had been murdered, and he and Jade had been forced to flee alone, mere children in the wilderness.

  He believed Father’s claims now about the Others. That the world really was filled with violence and populated by men whose thoughts were only evil continually.

  But he’d believed too late. Before, he couldn’t trust people to be evil. Now, he trusted none to be good. All his life he’d been lied to, and now he wondered what he could ever truly believe.

  He did not want to be special, and now, under the cover of darkness, he doubted his ability to be such. He wanted nothing more than to be a normal boy with a mother and a father and an uninteresting life. To grow into adulthood, become a builder, and enjoy relaxing in the afternoon sun, or waking to view the sunrise.

  But he would never be able to devote himself to simplicity. Because all his life had been a slow darkening. Without knowing it, he had fled unseen enemies. Now he’d met the devil’s weapon, and found it aimed at the flames burning beneath the skin of his chest.

  But he would survive.

  And Jade?

  He struggled to see her face in the little moonlight peeking through the branches. As much as he wanted to trust Enoch and Barak, he believed Jade the last of his family. The only one he might be able to trust.

  But Elina had been murdered, and now Jade acted strangely. Had Enoch’s words made her think he was responsible for her mother’s death?

  Barak moved up a small incline toward the door, released the latch, and swung it open, revealing an interior with a low ceiling lit by candlelight. He passed within, beckoned them to follow, and Enoch went first, followed by Jade and Noah.

  Barak locked the door behind them.

  Chapter 49

  The first thought that struck Noah was that Barak was no builder. The home did little to keep out the cold, because when the wind intensified, the chill lanced through cracks in the logs sealed only partway with black resin. He stared at their construction, wondering how the walls stood at all. Then he approached the corner and saw hidden grooves Barak had used to notch the logs together, achieving remarkable sturdiness without visible support.

  So, maybe the man knew a few tricks. The home certainly would offer safety from wild animals, but it was smaller than it appeared, and no more than a simple square box. In one corner sat a pile of animal skins. In a second lay utensils and dried fruit with herbs hanging above cooked meat and vegetables laid beside pitchers holding water and rice. Candles burned on knee-high tables haphazardly hewn from what appeared to be fallen trees. Along one wall sat a row of bins filled with knives, hammers, traps, netting, and rope. Across everything rested a layer of soot and the marks of frequent usage.

  Jade crossed to the animal skins and lay on them, curling inward and closing her eyes as if to block out all the truth in the world. Barak frowned and approached the pitcher, grabbing three stone cups and filling them for his guests.

  Noah thanked him and drank deeply, asking for two refills before the madness of thirst waned. Enoch followed, but Jade would not respond, so Barak handed Noah the cup and bade him offer it.

  Noah did as he was asked and knelt beside Jade, softly nudging her.

  At first, she did not respond. When he grabbed her hand and kissed it, he said, “Jade, you must drink at least a little.”

  She raised her head, took the cup, and sipped once before setting it on the ground and pulling the animal skins over her head.

  Noah returned and mirrored Enoch and Barak, who sat crossed-legged beside the table and bent forward in quiet conversation.

  “Warriors passed through the forest yesterday,” Barak said.

  “I know nothing about them,” Enoch said.

  “I tracked them,” Barak said. “They seemed to have captured two men. I can’t ensure you’re safe here.”

  “We shall stay for as short a time as we can,” Enoch said.

  Barak pointed to the empty cup in Enoch’s hand and raised his brow.

  “I am satisfied, thank you,” Enoch said.

  “Then you are hungry.” Barak stood and gathered what appeared to be smoked meats and dried fruit. He took the top off a small container and retrieved three flat breads. After placing the food on the table, he refilled their cups with wine from a skin at his side.

  Noah tore the flat bread and grabbed a dried apricot. The bread was bitter, but the fruit masked the bite. The meats were dry and tough, but soon the gnawing ache of hunger diminished, and the fog in his mind cleared.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Enoch said. “May the Almighty bless you for your generosity.”

  “Servants serve,” Barak said.

  “And faithful servants are well rewarded.” Enoch wrapped a ball of dried fruit in the flatbread before dipping it in wine and taking a bite.

  Barak tipped his head Jade’s direction and quieted. “Is the girl ill?”

  Noah cleared his throat. “She lost her mother yesterday.”

  Enoch stopped chewing.

  “The devils cut her throat.” A shudder began at the base of Noah’s neck and rippled down his spine, raising the hairs on his arms. “And the captured men you saw were my father and grandfather.”

  Barak’s jaw muscles tensed. “Then you deserve peace.” He stood. “I will return late. Sleep where you find comfort. The food you find is yours. Only do not touch my trapping supplies. They are difficult to replace.”

  Barak unlocked the door and left, and Enoch stared long at Noah.

  “Why stare when you could speak?” Noah said.

  “I am sorry,” Enoch said. “I did not know what had befallen you. My son and grandson . . . were they injured?”

  Noah shrugged. “They were alive when I saw them last.”

  Enoch nodded and pushed away from the table. Folding his hands, he pressed his fingers to his lips. With eyes shut, he rocked back and forth, humming a low melody.

  Noah could take no more of the man’s religion, so he stood and left Enoch to his rituals to see Jade, who stiffened at his approach. Sometime soon, Enoch would sleep, and they would have the opportunity to leave.

  Noah could not abide the thought of being chained to some religious relic. He couldn’t imagine being what Enoch wanted him to be. He just wanted to leave so that he and Jade could find their way back to Father.

  The longing for Lamech’s voice lodged in Noah’s throat, bringing a sickness to his belly and a burning to his eyes as he lay beside Jade, ignoring how she whimpered when he turned his nose to her hair, letting the burning in his eyes wash his face.

  The flames grew, and as he waited for sleep, he clutched his breast, fearing that just beneath his skin lurked a demon devouring him from the inside out, gnawing through the marrow of his bones.

  I must drown it, he thought. I must drown it in a flood.

  And so he shed enough tears to do just that.

  Chapter 50

  Half of the candles burnt themselves dark before Noah woke t
o Enoch snoring. Wind twisted the cabin and pressed the logs to groan. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but Jade’s head rested on his chest, and her arm lay across his belly.

  He leaned up slowly, holding his breath. Jade’s arm slid off, and he pressed a hand over her mouth, shushing her awake. Her eyes flashed, then narrowed with irritation.

  “What are you doing?” she said after he released her.

  “Don’t wake the old man,” he whispered.

  “Why not?”

  “We have to get out of here. We have to find my father.”

  Jade glanced around the home as another blast of wind struck. She clutched the coverings closer.

  “You know we can’t stay,” Noah said. “You heard Enoch. He wants to turn me into his apprentice.”

  “You don’t believe him.”

  “I’m no savior.”

  They stared at each other for several moments before Noah stood, carefully creeping to the food, gathering dried fruit and bread, and tying it in a cloth satchel. After securing the food to his belt, he crossed to the toolboxes and retrieved a long knife.

  In the middle of the room sat two candles still flickering, sending just enough light to illuminate the rise and fall of Enoch’s back beside the table. Noah slid the knife carefully into the belt of his tunic and followed the wall on tiptoes past Enoch’s sleeping form.

  When he reached the door, he turned back to see Jade standing atop the animal skins. He was too close to Enoch now to risk warning her to keep quiet, so he kept on.

  Each scrape of his foot sounded a hammer blow. Noah felt his pulse thump in his throat, then his ears as he reached, fingers slipping over the handle of the door.

  Enoch’s snores skipped, then deepened once more.

  Noah pushed against the door, exited, turned, and shut it behind him.

  The canopy was thick, and he searched for the night skies to find his bearings.

  As he did so, the door creaked, sending a shock of fear up his throat. He slid into the shadows and pulled the knife from his belt as a dark shape emerged from the home.

  It was too small to be Enoch, and as the door swung shut, he approached and slipped the knife into his belt. “You woke him for sure.”

  “I checked after the door creaked,” Jade said. “He’s asleep.”

  “So . . . couldn’t stand to be alone?”

  “Stop speaking to me like that,” Jade said. “You’ve been angry toward me ever since we woke.”

  “And you’ve ignored me since Enoch came.”

  “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

  “Right,” Noah said. “That’s why you wouldn’t look at me, or respond to anything I said.”

  “What do you expect?”

  Noah clenched his jaw. “I don’t know. I feel . . . when we were in the cave, I . . .” He cleared his throat. It was pointless to talk about the desire that had erupted within him. Besides, how could he put it into words? “We need to get moving before Enoch realizes we’re gone.”

  She grabbed his hand. “Noah . . .”

  He tried to ignore the skewering in his chest, the ache he saw mirrored in her eyes. “I miss Elina,” he said. “I miss them both.”

  The wetness on Jade’s cheek shone in the forest-dappled starlight. Even in the dark, he could tell she was shaking. “Will it ever stop hurting?” she said. “I’ve felt I would die these few days, but I haven’t, and I’m too scared to die.”

  “Whatever happens, we can’t give up,” Noah said. “It’s what they want. But I won’t do it.”

  “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you want to die?”

  Noah turned away and said, “We have to hurry.”

  The door creaked again, and a deep voice rumbled, “Hurry to your death?”

  Noah jumped as he caught sight of Enoch standing in the doorway, candlelight casting a dusty halo about his head, obscuring his face in shadows. “For that is all that will meet you.”

  “You won’t stop us,” Noah said.

  “No?” Enoch stepped into the moonlight. “Do you know how to navigate the wilderness? Could you save your family?”

  Noah’s hand slid over the handle of the knife, but he dared not draw it. Not yet.

  Jade fidgeted beside him. Likely wanting any excuse to return to the house and hide under the covers.

  It made him hate Enoch even more.

  “Come back inside.” Enoch’s back bent, and he looked his age. “I’ve endured enough of your foolishness.”

  “I’m not coming back.”

  Enoch waved him forward. “You are just a child.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Or die trying.”

  “Either would be better than what I feel now.”

  Enoch quieted. “I know. That’s why you are standing with your hand on a pilfered knife. And I, an old man, am awake fighting back pain when I’d rather be asleep. But you already know you would be a fool to leave. Even more so if you took Jade with you.”

  Noah drew his knife. “Are you trying to make me hate you? I don’t trust anything that comes out of your mouth.”

  “Hate is a symptom of stupidity. Distrust, however, is a symptom of being lied to. Tell me. Have I lied to you?” Enoch paused, waiting for a response. When he received none, he chuckled. “Yes, you know I have spoken openly. And yet you hate me for it. Let that give you pause.”

  “You claim to speak truth, but you can’t prove a thing.”

  “I already told you that I only guess most of the story.”

  “What, then? You would have me stay and lie prostrate until the devils come and slit my throat like Elina’s?” Noah’s face reddened, and his knuckles ached against the metal. “You would have me give up? Let them take my father away, just as they took my mother away, and everyone else I ever loved?”

  “Not everyone,” Enoch said, and pointed at Jade. “She is still with you. And she loves you. Trust me, I was not sent so that you might love me, or so that I might replace your father. I was sent to teach you the Old Way, and that is all. That is what I care about.”

  Noah spat on the ground and smeared it with his sandal.

  “The choice is yours,” Enoch said. “Stay and live, or leave and condemn us all to death.” He ascended the stairs to Barak’s home and said, “I am going to sleep. Be quiet when you return.”

  And he slammed the door behind him.

  Part VI

  Noah and Jade

  “When Enoch had lived 65 years, he fathered Methuselah. Enoch walked with God after he fathered Methuselah 300 years and had other sons and daughters. Thus all the days of Enoch were 365 years. Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him.”

  —Genesis 5:21–24

  Chapter 51

  Jade slid away from Noah, the bond of mutual suffering broken by the shadow cast by Enoch’s words. Once more the old man had illuminated the difference between him and Jade.

  “I’m sorry,” Jade whispered as she shuffled to the door. She opened it carefully, and this time it didn’t creak when she slipped inside and left him alone.

  He slid the knife into his belt and gripped his forearms to still them, but he shivered neither from cold nor fear.

  Ever since the God-King spilled Elina’s blood and took Father away, hatred had been the only true force in Noah’s life. He hated the Others for what they’d done to his family. Hated his mother for dying. Hated his father for lying. Hated Jade for changing. Hated Enoch for his demands.

  Noah desired nothing more than to rediscover the trail the Others left, follow it, and find his father so that they might be reunited, the world be damned.

  But as much as he distrusted Enoch and thought the man inflated by his own words, he was right about one thing. Noah would never make it through the wilderness alone.

  Even if, by some stretch of good fortune, he survived, what would he do when he came upon his father captured by the Others? He’d been powerless to save Elina.

  He’d be just as powerless to sa
ve his father.

  And so he hated himself most of all. Because he couldn’t save anyone. Yet Enoch placed the mantle across Noah’s shoulders and bid him carry the weight of the world.

  He closed his eyes and counted to release emotion and allow his mind to drift, as his father had taught him all those years ago, so that anything might replace the inferno raging in his chest.

  The heat lowered, settling in his belly like blistering ash, coiling and cooling to an oily sickness. Rage made way for reason, and he settled for the only decision that would give him a chance at a better life.

  He would stay. Not because Enoch said he should, but because he knew his own plan had been impossible from the beginning.

  He shivered at the realization that it was the burning he felt that nearly made him throw his life away. And for what? If he did not find a way to suppress it, he feared it would consume him.

  But how could he be rid of it? It had stalked him his entire life. More than anything, he longed for peace, for a settling of the burning. He hoped the Old Way was the key, even as he balked at the possibility.

  He returned to Barak’s hovel. The candles had all been blown out; he heard Enoch snoring beside the table and just barely made out Jade’s form on the pile of animal skins. He said nothing as he sat in the corner, hugged his knees, and rested his head.

  Hours later, Barak returned quiet as a bat, barely a rustle of cloth as he locked the door and reclined to sleep.

  Only then did Noah relax, his bones achingly stiff. He sprawled out several feet from Jade on the knotted floor, where he spent the rest of the night caught between fitful nightmares and waking fear.

  ...

  In the morning, Noah woke to Jade rustling the covers and Enoch mumbling prayers. Barak was gone, and from outside came a rhythmic thudding. Noah’s face flushed as he realized someone had removed the knife and satchel he’d stolen and arranged the bag’s contents on the knee-high table.