Read Ross Lawhead for Free Online Page A

much, does he?”
    Daniel gave a jerky shrug. “The last time I heard from him was three years ago. Today he sends me a card with some money in it.”
    Daniel heard himself say those words and felt wretchedly sorry for himself. Three years—three whole years, and then what?
    Ten pounds and a crappy card with a stupid clown on it with a mocking, leering laugh. His hands clenched and he tore up the card, dropping its twisted pieces on the floor beneath his feet.
    He turned his face to the window, eyes hot, tears threatening to drip down his face.
    Freya sat quietly next to him and didn’t say a word until they reached the church.
    2
    Daniel turned and walked down the church aisle, stopping at a short wooden railing that ran wall to wall just before the altar. His head was tilted as far back as it would go so that he could stare straight up at the ceiling. Behind him he could hear Miss Singh droning on about some stained glass window just around the corner— no one could see him here.
    There were stone carvings everywhere—on the walls, on the ceiling, on the arches, around doorways, along the columns— carvings of animals, plants, people, and mythical creatures. The arches leading up to the chancel were lined with dozens of carvings of sunflowers—stacked row upon row like strings of rising suns. On the large archway over the church entrance there were a mermaid with a sword, two battling centaurs, a roaring lion, a king with a crown, a face with a leaf in its mouth, weird zigzag patterns, and other bewildering designs.
    Daniel walked up the aisle towards the altar. He felt peaceful here. The anxiety and emotional chafing of the bus ride was becoming less painful, gradually washing away. Marveling at this amazing building, he felt part of something much, much bigger than himself, and he knew he was the only one who felt it. It was like he understood what the church was feeling—an old, proud indifference to the chattering, squabbling children who were walking inside of it. It was as though all the shoving and pushing and jockeying for attention and importance—all these things that affected him so much—were irrelevant to the enormous, beautiful building. It was created for something else.
    Behind the altar there was a small arch, partially hidden in the shadows. For a moment he thought there was a passageway underneath it, and hearing the call to adventure, he intended to follow it, but when he got closer he saw that it spanned just a blank wall of stone.
    The archway oozed antiquity and was crammed with interesting figures. It must have been a doorway to something at some point. On one side there was a knight wearing a pointed helmet and a thick beard. In his left hand he held a round shield, and in his right was a large axe with a long straight edge. Underneath him was a horse, a dragon, a lion, and an ox. Opposite him, on the other side of the arch, was another knight, a lot like the first, but this one held a spear. Beneath him was something that looked like a dog, or maybe a lamb, a woman with a staff, and then an eagle and an angel.
    He sat down in an uncomfortable wooden chair beside the altar, opened his sketchbook to a clean page, and started drawing the figures on the arch. He had just finished tracing the shape of the axe in his book when he heard a rustling sound behind him, like the flapping of a flag. A shadow fell across him and then quickly lifted. Startled, he twisted around and looked up into a plain gothic window. Something had passed next to it—flickered across it from outside. But it was gone now. He turned back to his sketch.
    The light in the church was growing dimmer. The December sun was setting now, even though it wasn’t very late at all. He finished drawing the first knight and quickly moved on to the other.
    He heard his class moving across the church—probably to another window—and slouched back closer to the altar so no one would see