Green: The Beginning and the End by Ted Dekker Page A

your god do what he challenges?”
    “My god? Teeleh is the only true god, and he’s yours as well as mine. Or do you falter so easily after a few words from your nemesis?”
    Ba’al clearly saw an opportunity here. That a challenge from a group of scattered vagabonds should be taken seriously was by itself humiliating. But that this simple challenge, however misguided, should unnerve him was unforgivable. Who did Thomas of Hunter think he was, issuing such a foolish challenge?
    Qurong’s gut clenched with pain and he walked to the table, where a flask of wine sat next to two silver glasses.
    “You called me out of my sleepless dreams for this?”
    “If you don’t mind . . .” Cassak, his general, now held the scroll. “If this is true, if the leader of all albinos is foolish enough to wait for us at Ba’al Bek, we could easily end his life. And the lives of his three followers. Even Chelise, if she is with him.”
    Patricia glared at him. She still clung to the imprudent belief that she might one day recover a daughter. Cassak was a fool not to understand the way of a woman’s heart. He would have to talk with the man.
    “Killing Thomas is no easy proposition. Even if he could be taken or killed, he’s right; he would be seen as a martyr and replaced by another dozen like him. He’s mocking us with this letter.”
    “Is he?” Ba’al said.
    “You suggest we take this seriously?”
    “You doubt that I can destroy him in this little game of his?” Ba’al returned.
    “I don’t know. Can you?”
    There was the real question, he realized. He’d betrayed his own doubts in Teeleh’s power by asking it.
    “Have you seen the evidence of Elyon lately?” Ba’al asked. “No, because there are no angels named Roush nor a god named Elyon. These are the figments of the albinos’ imagination. The red waters they drink infect them with a disease that bares their skin and fries their minds. We all know this to be the case.”
    “And if you’re wrong? If Teeleh, who isn’t too eager to show his face either, doesn’t show up and crush them, then what? I drink their red water? Have you lost your mind?”
    “Unlike you, I see Teeleh frequently. Trust me, he is as real as your own scabbing flesh. Don’t you see it? Thomas of Hunter is playing into our hands. The red dragon who rules the seven horns will devour this albino child and end the time of the Circle once and for all. Your war on them has had its desired effect. They are begging us, out of desperation.” Ba’al bit off each word and squeezed his black nails into a tight fist.
    The allure of being handed the whole of the albino insurgency on a platter presented itself to Qurong in full color for the first time.
    “Sir.” Cassak stepped forward. “Forgive the observation, but there is no guarantee that this isn’t a trap to kill both you and the high priest.”
    “They don’t ascribe to violence,” Qurong said.
    “No, but they could take you and force you to drown. They could—”
    “Do the red water’s poisons work if one is forced to drown?”
    “I don’t know,” the general said. “The point is, this must not be done on his terms. We should take the army. Even the Eramites take courage from Thomas Hunter’s evasion of capture. We look small, unable to kill this one man. Here is our chance. We could then strike at a demoralized Eram and be assured victory.”
    Qurong regarded Ba’al. He understood now why the priest had summoned him here. This battle would be fought and won in the heavens, not with swords. This was a matter for Ba’al, not Qurong. The dark priest needed only his consent and attendance.
    He kept his eyes on the priest as he spoke. “Hunter would see our army and be gone. Those were not his terms.”
    “Not if I commanded the Throaters,” Cassak said.
    The temple’s military wing consisted of five thousand highly trained assassins commonly referred to as Throaters, named after less-discerning killers among the Forest