Awaken His Eyes: The Awakened Book One

by Jason Tesar

AWAKEN HIS EYES

  THE AWAKENED BOOK ONE

  JASON TESAR

  __________

  Fourshadow Publishing

  Copyright © 2008-2012 by Jason Tesar

  Scripture quotations taken from the Authorized King James Version, Public Domain, 1611

  Quotations taken from the Book of Enoch, Not in Copyright, Translation by R H Charles, 1917

  Cover design, maps, and diagrams by Jason Tesar

  Awaken His Eyes is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Carly, my love

  You are my light and laughter

  Without you this book wouldn’t exist

  Visit www.jasontesar.com and sign up for Jason’s email list to receive a free copy of Paths of Destruction: The Awakened Book Two, behind-the-scenes info on his fictional worlds and characters, exclusive content about his writing and publishing adventures, and to be notified of new book releases.

  CONTENTS

  The History

  The Prophecy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Books By Jason Tesar

  How You Can Help

  How You Can Connect

  About The Author

  Map of the Orudan Empire

  Diagram of the High Temple – Profile View

  Diagram of the High Temple – Aerial View

  Glossary and Pronunciation Guide

  Acknowledgments

  THE HISTORY

  1. … the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation … wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever (The Epistle of Jude 1:6, 1:13b, KJV).

  2. And it came to pass when the children of men had multiplied that in those days were born unto them beautiful and comely daughters. And the angels, the children of the heaven, saw and lusted after them … (The Book of Enoch 6:1-2)

  3. And they were in all two hundred; who descended (The Book of Enoch 6:6-8).

  4. And all the others together with them took unto themselves wives, and each chose for himself one, and they began to go in unto them and to defile themselves with them … (The Book of Enoch 7:1) 5. … taught men to make swords, and knives, and shields, and breastplates, and made known to them the metals of the earth and the art of working them … (The Book of Enoch 8:1)

  6. There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown (Genesis 6:4, KJV).

  7. … whose height was three thousand ells, who consumed all the acquisitions of men. And when men could no longer sustain them, the giants turned against them and devoured mankind. And they began to sin against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish, and to devour one another's flesh, and drink the blood … (The Book of Enoch 7:2-6)

  8. … and as men perished, they cried, and their cry went up to heaven… (The Book of Enoch 8:3)

  THE PROPHECY

  Therefore, I will raise up one from among those you despise. And I will awaken his eyes to the mysteries which I have hidden from men since the foundations of the world. His feet will I make to tread upon the paths of destruction and his hands to make war. He will uproot the seeds of corruption which you have sown throughout the earth. And then you will know that I am the Lord and my justice is everlasting.

  —The Writings of Ebnisha

  CHAPTER 1

  The young analyst glanced around the room, his intense eyes darting between the flickering computer screens and scores of other technical personnel. His knee bounced with nervous energy, resonating with the frantic mood pulsing through the communications center. As he waited impatiently, he reached forward and grabbed his coffee mug to take a quick swig. It had gone cold. From a television on the wall to his right came the sound of yet another news reporter trying to present a different perspective on the same story that had dominated the media for more than a week.

  “… as ocean levels continue to rise across the globe. This event is only adding fuel to the already heated environmental debate that is drawing new lines of separation between members on both sides of the aisle. But while some argue over the potential cause of this global catastrophe, others believe that the issues of greatest concern are the ghastly death toll and the millions of displaced people in nearly every country who are seeking refuge by moving inland. Already, the burden of supporting these refugees is being seen …”

  “What did you want?” sounded a coarse voice from behind.

  The analyst jumped, spilling his coffee. He quickly wiped at his wrinkled slacks, but the coffee had already soaked in. Giving up, he turned to address his superior. “Have you been watching any of this?”

  “I’m well aware of what’s happening,” the older man said, his eyebrows wrinkling into a scowl. “It’s on every news station on the planet. But we still have jobs to do. And yours is to gather data on your target.”

  “But that’s why I called you over here. They’re the ones who caused it!”

  The older man’s once impatient body language softened. “Show me.”

  “OK. So, I was going over the surface contour data from the satellites when I noticed that the ocean levels were rising faster in the southern hemisphere. And that gave me the idea to run a simulation, comparing the current mapping data to the—”

  “Skip to the point, Matthews!”

  Setting down his mug, the analyst leaned forward and grabbed hold of the mouse. Frozen on one of the four screens at his workstation was a distorted satellite image. “This is their facility in Brazil,” he mumbled to his superior without making eye contact. He pecked a key and un-paused the video footage, the distortion disappearing immediately.

  “This is last week,” he said. “Watch the atrium roof.”

  The older man stood with his arms folded, watching the screen.

  In the midst of a lush jungle was a compound surrounded by high fences, topped with razor wire. The interior of the compound had been cleared of all vegetation. At the north end sat an enormous rectangular building with a circular glass roof at its center. A six-digit time display showed at the bottom right corner of the screen with the seconds ticking by.

  At 10:06:54, the glass roof exploded upward, scattering shards of debris in every direction. A dark object materialized in the void where the roof had been. When it sprouted wings and began to rise in elevation, it became obvious that it was some sort of bird.

  The analyst paused the footage and increased the magnification. “You see this rectangular box on the roof?” he said, pointing to the screen. “It’s an air handler manufactured in Germany. I tracked down the schematics and got dimensions. It measures sixteen feet on its longest side, which—”

  “Puts the wingspan at about thirty feet,” the older man interrupted. “What the hell are they doing down there?”

  “Synthetic biology? Who knows? This is the
first real development I’ve seen so far. I have someone tracking the bird,” replied the analyst, resuming the footage. “But watch this.”

  When the time display read 10:07:22, a geyser of water came bursting through the hole in the roof. The analyst zoomed outward, showing the compound engulfed in water in a matter of seconds.

  “The amount of water is just unreal. Check this out,” he said, typing in a new time signature. The footage jumped forward a few hours, showing the entire valley flooded.

  “Where is all that water coming from?” the older man mumbled.

  “I don’t know. It’s way too much to be an underground river or something. But it stopped,” the young man said. “Here, look at this.” He punched in a new date and the image switched to the present, showing a live feed. He clicked a few times with his mouse and zoomed in again.

  “See? The water used to be surging all through this area like it was still coming up from underneath the building. But now the water’s calm …” the analyst trailed off as he noticed something new. “Hmm,” he said, clicking the mouse to zoom in even further.

  “That’s a dive team,” the older man said, leaning closer to the screen. “Five of them, and a boat.”

  “Four,” the young man corrected.

  “What?”

  “There are only four divers. The fifth isn’t in a wet suit. See how he’s swimming away? It looks like they’re chasing him.”

  “Go back!” the older man said. “Show me how he got in the water.”

  The analyst quickly scrolled the footage backward until everyone disappeared, then played it again. “There’s the dive team arriving. They’re getting in the water,” he mumbled as he carefully moved through the footage. “And there. The other guy just comes up out of the water a half hour later. And there’s the dive team coming after him.”

  The older man squinted, then stood up straight and grabbed the analyst’s phone from his desktop. He punched a button and waited for the call to be routed.

  The analyst grinned. “Are we going to take him in?”

  The older man nodded. “We have six teams in the area on standby. This could be a major breakthrough for us. Good work, Matthews!”

  * * * *

  The chopper skimmed low over the treetops, flying parallel to the undulations in the terrain. The vegetation bent low from the downdraft. A hundred yards ahead was a gap in the otherwise thick jungle tree line. Seconds later, the helicopter passed over the clearing and a one-lane blacktop road that ran east and west. The chopper swung around to the east and descended into a nearby meadow. When it was still several feet from the ground, five men jumped out and landed in the knee-high grass, moving quickly toward the road. Their camouflaged clothing blended perfectly with the surroundings, as did the camouflaged tape wrapped around the automatic weapons slung across their backs.

  The team leader took point and ran for the tree line on the opposite side of the road while the others followed. Once inside the cover of the vegetation, the team changed direction and began to move west, keeping the road a few yards to their right.

  They moved quickly and silently through the dense jungle for a hundred yards before the team leader held up his hand and brought them to a halt. He put a finger to the spiraled cord coming from his ear and listened, then motioned for the others to move toward the road. Two of his men continued another twenty feet up the road and laid out a spike strip before returning.

  As soon as they were in position, the team leader could hear the distant roar of an engine. It grew slowly in volume until an uncovered green jeep came into view around a bend in the road. He summed up the situation with just a glance.

  Two men in military fatigues. One driving, the other in the back, pointing an automatic weapon at the third man—the prisoner.

  The jeep was moving at roughly forty miles an hour when it hit the spike strip. A loud pop cut through the roar of the motor as the tires shredded instantly. The jeep skidded on the wet asphalt as the driver struggled to maintain control, coming to a stop directly in front of the men waiting in the trees.

  The timing was perfect, exactly as planned. The team leader brought his silenced weapon into firing position and peered through the scope. When the crosshairs were centered on the side of the driver’s head he squeezed the trigger. The gun coughed a three-round burst and the driver’s head pitched violently to the side, throwing his limp body across the driver-side door.

  The other soldier in the rear of the vehicle reacted quickly, jumping up and spinning toward the trees, firing wildly into the jungle.

  The group fired in unison, and the soldier in the jeep fell backward with several hits to his midsection. It was over just as suddenly as it had begun. The team moved out of the trees and fanned out, surrounding the vehicle.

  “Come on out,” the team leader said in the friendliest voice he could muster. But there was no reply. “Come on. You’re safe now,” he repeated, slowly approaching the back of the jeep to peer over the tailgate.

  A man crouched in the back, keeping his head down.

  “Can you understand me?” the leader asked, but the blank look in the other man’s eyes told him the answer. Instead, he waved for the captive to get out of the jeep.

  Cautiously, the man rose up on his knees and looked around. He seemed to be assessing the situation. He finally got to his feet and moved to the back of the jeep.

  The team leader backed away and allowed the man to crawl out of the vehicle, inspecting him as he waited. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with a muscular build and features that hinted of Mediterranean descent. He was dressed like he had just walked off a movie set—a black toga, short cropped pants, and leather sandals that laced up his calves. His chest was protected by some sort of primitive leather armor.

  This guy’s definitely not a local. “We’re going to the helicopter now,” he said aloud, pointing over the man’s shoulder.

  The prisoner turned to watch the rest of the team already making their way back along the road. He appeared reluctant, but finally started moving forward with a limp while the team leader followed close behind. When they rounded a bend, the man turned around with a look of intense fear in his eyes.

  “You’ll be fine,” the team leader assured him, pointing again to indicate that the man should follow the other soldiers who were already climbing into the chopper.

  The prisoner appeared frightened of the machine but eventually moved forward, hobbling on a badly injured foot. One of the crewmembers leaned out and offered him a hand, which he cautiously accepted.

  When everyone was aboard and seated, the chopper lifted off the ground and began to fly back in the direction from which it had come. The team leader looked over at the man and saw that his eyes were closed and his head was back against the seat. His skin looked pale and it was obvious that he was getting motion sickness. He reached over and touched the prisoner’s leg to get his attention.

  When the man opened his eyes, the team leader pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then pointed out the window. “Keep your eyes open and watch the trees.”

  The other man nodded.

  As everyone watched the passing jungle, the team leader inspected the strange man, whose rescue was the objective for this mission. Whoever he was, he was definitely a long way from home.

  CHAPTER 2

  The sound of lapping waves was faint and peaceful at first, but eventually it caused something in Bahari’s mind to take notice. He awoke with a jerk. He was sitting at the stern of his cargo ship, and the rudder handle was an arm’s reach away, swaying back and forth in unison with the ocean swells. He grabbed the handle and steadied it, cursing himself for his carelessness.

  He looked out across the deck of the ship, laden with cargo, but could not see much farther than the bow. A thick fog had rolled in while he slept, reducing visibility to almost nothing. The mainsail was full with a breeze coming from the northwest. Bahari took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to calm himself. Sound was his on
ly navigational tool now. Then he heard it again—the sound of waves breaking off the port bow. Leaning to the side, he pulled on the rudder until the boat slowly began to turn starboard and away from the shoreline. He had obviously drifted off course while he slept. He felt guilty for endangering the lives of his crew, who were asleep below deck.

  That would be my luck! He envisioned the boat smashed into thousands of pieces, washing up onto the shoreline for miles. It sickened him to think of how hard he had worked to get where he was, and one careless act could have ruined it all. But the feeling of guilt was quickly replaced by a sense of relief at waking up before anything had gone wrong.

  Bahari kept his southwesterly course for almost an hour, listening intently for the sound of waves. When they had faded to almost nothing, he felt confident that he had reached a safe distance from the shore and steered the boat due south, resuming his course for Bastul.* He could feel the pull of sleep trying to drag him down again and knew that if he stayed in his seat he would only succumb once more. After securing the rudder handle with a loop of rope and taking a drink from the waterskin stowed beneath his seat, he rose to his feet and walked across the deck, stretching his legs. His tunic was uncomfortably twisted and stuck to his body as if he had just come back from a swim in the ocean. He tried to peel it away from his skin and reposition it, but gave up after a while. He wished he could take it off altogether, but there were laws against that. Citizens of the Orudan Empire were not allowed to be seen wearing only a loincloth. Such dress was only appropriate for slaves, who must never feel a sense of camaraderie with their masters, even in something as seemingly insignificant as clothing.

  He meandered across the deck, walking around crates of fruit and olives until he found himself standing at the bow of the ship. The fog was starting to thin.

  Bahari leaned against a wooden crate and watched the water as it passed by in small ripples. Immediately, his thoughts drifted toward his financial troubles. The growing season had been rough this year. In order to pay his debts, he had to travel to Nucotu, where he could get more money for his cargo and bring back other valuable items to sell in Bastul. But the return trip had been grueling so far—two straight days without sleep.

  That’s the problem with this line of work—too much time to think and worry. Maybe I’ll just have someone take over for me in the morning so I can get some sleep.

  ~