Wrath & Righteousnes Episodes 01 to 05 (42 page)

She needed help. Someone to turn to. She could not survive on her own.

But no one would help her . . . .

She shuddered suddenly, but not from the cold.

* * *

Lucifer watched and walked beside her, then turned to Balaam. “What is the worst decision she could make now?” he asked in a patronizing tone. “What is the worst thing she could do, as far as we are concerned?” Lucifer already knew the answer, but did his slave know? It was a test. He always tested. It made him feel good. It was part of how he controlled.

Balaam stood beside him, his weak shoulders slumping, his eyes burning with a pathetic desire to please. He stared down at Azadeh with a dark, hateful frown. “I don’t know,” he muttered fearfully, terrified of disappointing his Master but more afraid of his punishment if he were to say the wrong thing.

Lucifer hovered over him, and Balaam felt his cold breath, like a chill of stale air escaping from an old grave.

Balaam looked away. He hated being with Lucifer. It hurt him inside. His eyes were so piercing, his power so complete, it was like falling into ice water—it sucked the very life out of his core. Lucifer was never kind to his angels; he distrusted, even hated, all of his followers. And Balaam was no different, he was hated as well.

Balaam’s head fell.

Then he tightened in panic as Lucifer drew near. Balaam took a breath and held it to brace himself for the scorn.

“I asked a simple question!” Lucifer sneered. “What is the worst thing the mortal could do now? Where is the one place we don’t want her to go?”

Balaam’s fists clenched with tension as he suggested, “The American mentioned Khorramshahr. She would find safety there.”

“Yes!” Lucifer shouted in a sarcastic reply. “Yes! He got the answer. Someone give this lad a reward!” He loomed over Balaam, a master over a child. “Now think, then,” he continued with a hateful sneer, “we don’t want her to go to Khorramshahr. Where could we tell her to go?”

Balaam thought, then shook his head. He simply didn’t know.

“Where is the most immediate danger? Where would she almost certainly be killed?”

Balaam’s face remained blank, and Lucifer swore. “Idiot!” he screamed. “How could you be such a fool? Who does the young girl trust now? Who is the only friend she has? Omar, you idiot. Isn’t that clear? And where are the soldiers? They are at Omar’s house! He isn’t there. He is hiding. But they are waiting for him there. They are searching and waiting; they know he was involved. So if we can lead Azadeh to Omar, the enemy soldiers will find her, for they are waiting there.”

Balaam nodded eagerly. Yes, that was true.

Lucifer pushed Balaam aside. “Stand back and listen, my child, and if you listen, you will learn.” He grew very serious and took a step toward Azadeh.

Walking beside her, Lucifer leaned toward her ear. His robes moved around him, blowing back as if from some unseen storm. His eyes glared as he watched her; then he started to speak. His voice was gentle and sweet. “
Omar will help you. You must go to him, my dear. You have no one else. No where to go. It is the only safe place to be. Go there, and go quickly, do not think more on this, dear. You must go to Omar! What other choice do you have?!
”

Lucifer spoke to her softly, keeping a constant drumbeat of lies in her ear.

* * *

Azadeh considered her situation, her heart heavy, her mind weak. But the only person she could think of was Omar, her father’s best friend, the bear of a man who liked to meet with her father on the ancient guard tower, the mysterious companion who had occasionally visited their home. A gruff man, all business, a man who reeked of wealth and power, Omar had shown an occasional interest in her. He had been kind, had brought her books and items of clothing: a
chador
or small scarf, once even a new pair of shoes.

Might Omar help her? Was he home? Had he gone there with the child? She didn’t know. And she didn’t know how to reach him anyway. She had no idea where he worked and only the vaguest idea where he lived, for she had been there only once and that was four or five years before. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to picture Omar’s home. It was somewhere north of the village, up along the foothills near where the river cut through the canyon; she remembered standing on the riverbank and looking down on her town. It was a sprawling brick, stucco, and mud house, far larger than anything Azadeh could ever hope to live in, with pastures for Omar’s horses, rows of olive trees, and a natural orchard along the rolling foothills.

She turned toward the mountains and stared through the deepening gloom. Could she find it? She didn’t know. But if she was to seek help from Omar she would have to walk north, toward the mountains and into the heart of the coming storm. And she would have to climb, which meant even more rain and deeper cold.

Azadeh looked around her, wondering where else she could go. Who was there to help her? Whom could she trust now?

* * *

“
Omar!
” Lucifer whispered, “
You must go to him. Go. You’ll be safe there. Don’t think now, just act. It’s the only thing you can do!
”

* * *

The answer seemed apparent. Omar was the only person she could think of who might be willing to help her.

She felt a soft raindrop on her cheek and looked up at the sky. The rain started falling in a light drizzle, and the wind turned very cold. But the rain didn’t last long. It turned quickly to ice pellets and then heavy sleet. She heard more thunder in the distance as the hail and sleet blew against her neck.

She thought a final moment, and then started walking. She had made up her mind.

Turning north, she left the road and began to make her way across the open terrain. Coming to an ancient rock fence, she climbed over and snagged her brown dress, tearing it up to the knee. She examined the torn material, and then resumed walking. As she made her way up the mountain, a dark and gloomy dusk settled in. She heard movement around her and stopped to listen carefully, her imagination picturing horrible demons in the dark. She felt it, she sensed it.

There was someone there.

* * *

Lucifer smiled with a horrible grin, a sick twist of his lips at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t smile because he was happy—he hadn’t been happy since his exile from the Light—he smiled only because he had her, because she was doing what he had hoped.

* * *

 Azadeh stared through the darkness, certain she was not alone. A small herd of goats moved toward her, the nanny bleating as she complained of the cold. Azadeh touched the nanny’s head, and then trudged along again. The terrain started rising to form the foothills at the base of the mountains, which were completely shrouded now in dark, heavy clouds. She made her way to the forest, where the ground became spongy with old, rotten growth. The temperature continued dropping to a bone-chilling cold, and she started to slip on the wet ground.

It grew dark very quickly and within a half hour after sunset she could barely see, the heavy clouds covering up any light from the moon and the stars. To her right, in the distance, there was the faintest white glow, nothing more than a thinning of the darkness and a tint of white. The village was down there, perhaps four or five kilometers to her right, and the low lights from the market shimmered miserably in the cold.

Azadeh stopped and looked at the soft glow that lightened the darkness. She was so homesick, so lonely, she thought she might die. But she pulled her scarf around her and kept walking.

* * *

Lucifer walked along with her. He was laughing now. Balaam walked toward him. “You were right,” he said. “Omar’s house has been taken over with Iranian secret police. They are looking for him now, and they are very upset. If Azadeh goes much farther, they will find her. And if they find her . . . well, who knows what we could convince them to do? Many of these soldiers are our servants; many of them worship you, Lord. If we can lead Azadeh to them, they will take her and have her, I’m sure.”

Lucifer snorted with pleasure. He had been proven right again. But that was no surprise. It was always so.
Could I ever trust my servants?
he wondered.
Would they ever be worthy of me?

He looked over to Balaam, his eyes dead and lifeless, almost covered with film. “It may not matter,” he muttered. “She may first die from the cold.”

* * *

Azadeh walked all night because there was nothing else she could do. She knew if she stopped she would die. It was as simple as that. The temperature was now midwinter cold, and the rain and sleet were intermingled with snow.

Snow. This far south. At this time of year!

It was an evil omen, an omen she could not ignore.

But she tucked her head and kept walking, pulling her arms near her chest. She took one step, and then another, traveling in a direction she thought (and then hoped) was northwest. She prayed as she walked, sometimes closing her eyes. “The rain comes from God. The cold comes from God. Death and life come from God. Please, God, I want to live.”

To live she needed to find Omar. But which direction to go? The night was so dark, and she was so cold.

By 10 p.m., her hair had frozen in long strands at her neck. By midnight, she could no longer feel her fingers or feet. By 2 a.m., she was walking unsteadily, stumbling through the wet sleet, her teeth chattering so hard they rattled her brain. Everything started to look familiar. Had she been here before? The trees pulled closer around her as the forest thickened and the terrain grew steeper. Every few minutes she would stop and listen, trying to peer through the dark. Which was north? Which was south? She couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead. Reaching an awkward turn in the path she tripped suddenly, falling into the brush and the wet forest floor. The decaying leaves that enveloped her felt surprisingly warm and soft, like a blanket. The bushes were a pillow and she almost felt warm.

It was time to sleep. She had done all she could.
I’ll just lay here a minute,
she thought.
For a moment, I will rest. I feel so tired and cold.

Closing her eyes, she felt a warm tear on her cheek. Rolling onto her side, she pulled herself into a tight ball.

Death and life come from God. Please, God, I want to live.

* * *

Lucifer stared at her as she fell into the brush. “
Sleep, little child
,” he hissed his most evil lies in her ear. “
Sleep now. It is over. There is nothing left in this life for you. You have nothing left to live for, nothing to look forward to. You are alone. No one cares. You don’t have a friend in this world. You are worthless, you are miserable; there is nothing worth saving left inside of you. So lay there, my child, just lie there and die. You have nothing left to live for. It is the only thing you can do
.”

Balaam stood beside Lucifer and listened, a cold chill on his spine. Lucifer was
so
convincing, even at these most vile lies. Balaam almost laughed in delight.

Then he heard a voice from behind him and felt a hot stab of fear. He saw the light, he felt the power, and he almost fell to his knees. Then Lucifer felt it too, and he turned around and screamed.

* * *

Azadeh woke suddenly and looked quickly around. There was a fire . . . no, a light. And she felt peaceful and calm.

A lone figure stood over her, causing her to squint in the dark. Then he reached down and touched her, wiping the frozen tear from her eye. She felt his bare finger and shuddered, feeling instantly warm. “Azadeh,” he said to her, and she took a deep breath.

“Father!” she whispered. “Father, is that you?”

Rassa Ali Pahlavi stood over her, an expression of worry and deep concern on his face. But though he looked like any father would look staring down at his freezing child—his eyes were drawn with sick worry, compassion, and alarm—he appeared much younger and lighter, much happier and more pure, as if the cares of this world could not affect him so deeply now. It was as if, though he watched her, he knew there was something more. He was assured of the outcome, and the moment didn’t seem to trouble him so.

He bent down and touched Azadeh’s shoulders, helping her stand, then put his arms around her and held her close to his chest.

“Azadeh,” he said simply, “you’re going the wrong way.”

He held her more tightly, and she sensed his deep warmth again.

“Father,” she said, “I don’t understand.”

“You’re going the wrong way, Azadeh. Omar isn’t at his home tonight. Remember, he had to flee from the army. He left with the young prince and child. And even if he was at his house, Azadeh, the soldiers are waiting. You would be in great danger if you were to go anywhere near.”

“But Father, what do I do, then? Where am I to go?”

Rassa pulled away but kept his hands on her shoulders. “What did the American tell you?” he asked patiently.

Azadeh thought, her mind clearing. “Khorramshahr,” she whispered.

“Yes, Azadeh, Khorramshahr. Do you know where that is?”

Azadeh pondered this. “West of the border, along the Persian coast,” she finally said.

“Yes, that’s right. You must turn around. You are in danger. Stay away from the village. Do not try to find Omar. Do you understand, Azadeh? Will you do as I say?”

Azadeh didn’t hesitate. “I will, Father.”

Rassa stepped back. “Azadeh, I can’t stay here long.”

She cried with disappointment. “Please, Father, you cannot leave me now!”

He reached out and touched her lips, and she fell silent again. “I need you to remember something for me, Azadeh.”

She nodded wearily.

“Remember my final words, for they may be the most important thing I can say. There are times in your life when you feel completely alone, times you feel abandoned, as if there is not a soul in this world who cares about you. But when you feel that way, Azadeh, remember there is
another
world. There are others watching over you from the other side of the veil. We watch. We listen. And we understand. We never leave your side, Azadeh. Someone is always near, someone who knows you and loves you and wants you to succeed. You are never alone. There is
always
someone there. Think of that, remember, and it will give you the strength that you need.