Jack Staples and the City of Shadows by Mark Batterson Page B

be. Even the smell of rotting flesh began to diminish as she looked into his eyes.

Chapter 12
    A CHILD NO LONGER
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    Elion and Jack had been walking through the jungle for more than a week—a blessedly uneventful week, save for one evening.
    Each night as they made camp, Jack trained with Ashandar for an hour or more. Elion made him train blindfolded, claiming he needed to “feel” the sword’s movement. Yet only once had Jack felt the handle warm in his hands. Elion had told him not to move until he felt Ashandar prompting him to move. The sword knew battle more than he ever would, and if he listened, it would teach him. Then Elion left to collect wood for a fire.
    Jack stood blindfolded, with Ashandar outstretched, for almost forty minutes, but all he felt was the biting bugs. He had been about to take the blindfold off when the sword began to warm. Ashandar called to him, and without thinking, Jack began to move.
    There were no wild swings or leaps and kicks as he’d imagined; rather it was a steady flow of intricate strikes and twists of the blade. He gave himself to the sword. Somehow he moved among the thick roots without ever tripping. Jack felt as though he were dancing, both graceful and calculating.
    Sweat poured from him and his muscles burned, yet the movements became more natural with each passing second. His breathing was labored, but he didn’t slow. Ashandar was fire in his hands. As the movements became routine, he thought of his mother, father, and brother. He remembered everyone sitting around the kitchen table and laughing at one of Parker’s jokes. He remembered building a giant snowman in his front yard with Parker and Father.
    Jack continued to move, unsure whether he himself was moving his body or Ashandar was—until something changed. He froze, a feeling of terror rising inside him. Something evil had entered the jungle; he could feel the darkness pressing against him. A sickly sweet smell filled the air as bird and insect went eerily silent.
    â€œNO MATTER WHERE YOU RUN, YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME.”
    Jack gasped. He knew this voice. Yet he couldn’t make himself move. He wanted to remove the blindfold, to run, to scream for Elion, but his muscles wouldn’t listen. Ashandar was fire in his hands, and the sword was willing him to stay perfectly still.
    â€œYOUR DEATH WILL END THIS WAR, JACK STAPLES. BUT I WILL NOT STOP WITH YOU. I WILL DESTROY EVERYONE YOU KNOW AND LOVE. YOUR FATHER AND BROTHER, YOUR FRIENDS …”
    Jack barely breathed. Every word the Assassin spoke was like a knife in his heart. Ashandar called to him, and he lunged forward, extending the blade and twisting it upward. “No!” he screamed.
    â€œNOOO!” the Assassin’s scream echoed.
    Jack stumbled as Ashandar cooled, and he landed flat on his face. He ripped the blindfold off and rolled onto his back. The jungle was perfectly normal now—insects chirping and birds calling. Before he could rise, Elion was there. She stood on the tips of her toes, with a short sword in her hands. Her hair glowed with a golden light, and her eyes were silvery gold.
    â€œWhat happened?” Her voice was tight.
    Jack told her everything. When he finished, Elion sheathed her sword. “I will not pretend to understand what just happened, and I do not doubt what you heard, but it may not have been the Assassin. Yet I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” She scanned the surrounding jungle and offered Jack a hand. “For now at least, I think the danger has passed.”
    Most of his evenings were pleasantly uneventful. After he trained with Ashandar, Jack sat around a fire with Elion and talked. And each night Jack asked as many questions as he could before he fell asleep from exhaustion. One night he asked Elion how long it would take to get to the garden.
    â€œI don’t know,” she said. “The Forbidden Garden is never where you found it