The Treasure *Phantom of the Opera* (sequel to The Quest)

Untitled Part 20

**Chapter XX **

Music ~ Its language is a language which the soul alone understands, but which the soul can never translate.

~Arnold Bennett

xXx

.

With the void of night surrounding them, Erik addressed the motley gypsy band gathered around the campfire and showed them the drawings he'd sketched of his plans, to acquaint them with the battle stations from which they would attack. He went over specific strategies and assigned the boys and girls into groups, weighing each child's powers and weaknesses, crafting each grouping to achieve perfect balance based on all he had observed during their practices, so that none were deficient in any area. He had gained more confidence in their plan since he'd brought better weapons, as many as he could bundle into the scrap of canvas found in the wine cellar. The traps were set and they had a gross supply of gunpowder at the cave. But despite these unexpected benefits, the scales still tipped to their disadvantage.

The fanciful superstitions that the vexing witch had seared into small, gullible minds defeated the children's courage. A minuscule contingent of fear-instilled children battling numerous trained soldiers didn't stand a ghost of a chance. They needed a miracle. Never one to believe such marvels existed Erik nonetheless recalled the gift of Christine's unconditional love and forgiveness, a phenomenon in itself. After all he had done to mete out calamity and despair, she had looked beyond his merciless acts to offer him tranquility and hope. She often knew the suitable words to speak, and he recalled one of many stories she told during their journey.

Glancing to where his beloved sat on the ground beside him, awaiting his next instructions along with the rest of the children, he crouched down behind her shoulder, laying his hand upon it. She turned her head his way, her sweet face the epitome of trust. It bolstered him more than she could ever know that she supported him in his plans.

"My Angel," he said quietly. "Tell them the story you once told me of the giant."

She thought a moment. "The shepherd boy who slew him?"

"Yes, that is the one."

"I'm not certain I can relate the entire story in their language. You have taught me a great deal, but I still struggle with some of the words."

"I will help you." They stared at one another a tender moment, and she smiled, nodding.

Together they told the centuries-old account of the boy David, who did not let his slight build or lack of knowledge in matters of warfare deter him from his goal. She told of how his faith in his God bolstered him while Goliath's faith in his great size and power destroyed him. As Christine spoke in a quiet yet strong voice, all attention focused upon her. Erik filled in the words when she faltered and noticed the children's eyes grow huge with wonder as they listened.

Once she ended the story with how the child David cut off Goliath's great head, she looked upon each small face; her own filled with encouragement. "Like that small shepherd boy who became a great and mighty warrior - and one day, a king - I believe we also have the Light of truth on our side to guide us, a light that will defeat any dark weapon of the enemy. It's a fearsome thing we ask of you; I understand that you are frightened. But know this; the Light will protect you against the Mulo. I have long known the source of the Light in my heart, since I was a child, not much older than many of you. And I, too, have confronted great Darkness, perhaps worse than even the Mulo or Goliath, with the Light to protect and guide me. If it were possible to take a different course of action than to travel by night, the King would have found it. He's a great leader and very wise. You must listen to him and do as he asks. He has helped me many times, and we will both do all we can to help you."