Death of an Adept

You have the appearance of one bearing a heavy weight of care on his shoulders, came the lightly ironic response. Why else have you brought that burden with you into our presence, if you do not seek the means to be rid of it?

Adam understood that he was being invited to explain himself more clearly.

"The matter in question exceeds the scope of my judgement," he began. "It concerns a patient only recently come into my care - one Alan Lockhart. He is suffering acutely from a cancer of the bone which has all but devoured him. Despite the torment of his condition, he clings to life in what has seemed a defiance of all necessity.

"I now believe the necessity to be one of his own choosing," Adam went on, "but since it comes of love, it is not my place to gainsay it. Still, his suffering brings heartache to his family as well.

"If this burden of pain has been ordained to serve some higher purpose, then I will do what I can to help him and them bear it for as long as his spirit remains fettered to his body. But if his suffering serves no further purpose, then Alan Lock-hart needs to be given assurance of that fact. For I am convinced that only then will he consent to allow himself to pass into the Mercy."

Having delivered this appeal, Adam fell silent, watching with wonder as the Master's radiant form took on a gentler glow.

Your compassion has guided you aright in this matter, the melodic voice affirmed softly. Alan Lockhart has already suffered far more than was ever to be required of him, and we are aware of his reasons. If you will bring him before us, we will render the assurance he craves in a form which he will not mistake for anything but a vehicle of truth.

Chapter Twelve

THE plateau melted away. In a flickering shift of imagery, the golden light of the presence chamber yielded to illumination of another kind as Adam found himself standing over a figure stretched out upon a burning funeral pyre. The gaunt face upturned toward the sky was that of Alan Lockhart.

Lockhart was struggling feebly, mouth agape in a silent moan, but a ponderous array of iron chains held him fast-fettered to the pyre. The flames licked up from the edges of the pyre, and the chains glowed cherry-red in the firelight, hot enough to brand the cringing flesh, but Lockhart's body itself remained unconsumed. In a flash of intuitive insight, Adam realized that he was seeing Lockhart's condition translated into dream terms.

He realized further that in order to bring about any change in that condition, he himself would have to enter Lockhart's dream. Such personal intercession carried its own share of risks, but Adam was no stranger to confronting such dangers. Touching his ring to his lips, he commended himself and his work to the Light and, with that prayer still resonant at the back of his mind, spread his arms above Alan Lockhart's body.

Lockhart's moans became audible as Adam bent nearer. Drawing a deep breath, he reached down among the embers and seized one of the binding lengths of chain. The iron was blistering hot to the touch, but Adam bit back on a gasp of pain and tightened his grip, giving the chain a sharp, rending tug.

The chain snapped and fell away. Teeth clenched hard, Adam reached for another length. As he continued to break his way through the other man's chains, the pyre-flames began to die out and Lockhart's struggles diminished. By the time Adam had severed the final length, the embers were all but dead.

Though himself unharmed, Adam's pulse was pounding with the effort as he drew back. Lockhart's unmoving body now wore a robe of pristine white. As Adam turned his gaze heavenward, he at last became aware that the ground on which he stood was situated halfway up the side of a rocky mountain. High on the summit could be seen the outline of a mighty temple built of hewn stone - clearly their intended destination.

Returning his gaze to Lockhart, he called his name aloud. Lockhart's eyelids flickered back in wonder and surprise. Smiling gentle reassurance, Adam held out his hand.

"You can get up now," he told him. "Rise and come with me."

With Adam's assistance, Lockhart eased himself down off the pyre. Mutely he allowed Adam to guide him up the rugged slope. The very act of climbing, paradoxically, seemed to restore to him a measure of strength. Before long he was able to relinquish the support of Adam's arm and proceed unaided.