by James Somers
Jillian had heard the explosion from less than a mile away. She drove her horse even harder, fearing for Varen’s life. The attack on his caravan had clearly begun. She only hoped to arrive before the deed was done. A forest of trees passed by in a blur to her left; the grasslands hardly seeming to move on her right.
In mere minutes she could see the cloud of smoke dissipating. Below, Varen’s carriage lay tumbled and broken, resting in the ditch on the left side of the road. Three swordsmen were taking their last breaths before Rebecca in the field of gently blown, yellow grass. A lone soldier stumbled over Rachel’s bow.
As Jillian drew closer she noticed Varen on the ground covering Nordin’s body. The old man was still alive. Varen wasn’t doing so well. An arrow, almost certainly from Rachel’s bow, protruded from his shoulder, possibly he had been trying to shield Nordin from the attack.
A hot fury rose inside Jillian’s chest. She kicked against her horse’s side again and again, urging the animal on faster and faster. She knew it might collapse underneath her at any moment from the pace she had made it keep all this way, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered here, but saving Varen’s life from these assassins.
As she drove over the last hill, approaching the wreckage, Jillian aimed her bow with two arrows held tightly together. She came within fifty yards of Rachel, who had noticed her by now and stopped in the road. Jillian let the arrows fly; the two shafts beginning to separate their trajectories more and more.
Rachel hesitated a moment as she recognized the Captain of the High Guard riding toward them very unexpectedly. Jillian had been counting on that. At the last second, Rachel sidestepped and smashed one arrow to splinters. The other had gone undetected. It sank into her side, bringing an ever increasing, bloody stain soaking through her robes.
Rachel almost fell from the unexpected impact of the arrow. Rebecca came running from the field to intercept. Rachel had been hurt badly, was losing blood and the arrow in her side hampered her movements greatly. Jillian took advantage of the situation, urging the horse on, pummeling Rachel with its large body. Except for a desperate dodge, she would have been trampled to death. Instead, she was knocked aside, landing in the ditch on the right side of the road; the arrow broken off inside her body as she tumbled wildly.
Jillian flew from the saddle, landing in the road with her bow ready. Rebecca came for her, using the gifts to greatly enhance her speed. With two arrows nocked, Jillian let fly. It was a unique move all her own. Usually an opponent as skilled as a wraith dancer could deal with one. The second, on a slightly different trajectory, often went unnoticed. But Rebecca had seen what had happened to her sister. She somersaulted over both arrows and landed with her sword ready.
Jillian, having only the bow in her hand at that moment, swung it out defensively. Rebecca tagged it with her sword, severing the bowstring and lopping off six inches of wood at the same time. Rebecca struck at her again. Jillian adjusted what was left of the bow so that she deflected the sword, causing the bow to bend and the sword to slide away from it. The rebounding wood snapped back to crack Rebecca in the face. She staggered backward in a daze.
Jillian reached into the gifts, increasing her speed and power. She spun around, whipping the bow down, intending to strike Rebecca’s lower legs and trip her. Rebecca leaped up with her feet while bringing the sword crashing down. Jillian rose to meet the sword, blocking with the bow in her left hand, while moving slightly to her side. Her right hand retrieved a dagger from her side as the sword cut through the bow, but missed her body. Before Rebecca could dodge away, Jillian drove the dagger down through the base of her neck behind her collar bone.
Rebecca stood up for moment with a bewildered look in her eyes. She almost managed to raise the sword again, but the strike had been sure. Too much blood was pouring free into her chest cavity. She collapsed in seconds, her sword clanging dully against the packed earth of the road.
Varen called to her from behind, but she ignored him for the moment. Retrieving another dagger from her robes, Jillian crept near Rachel’s body still lying in the ditch. She couldn’t perceive any breathing movements; any rise and fall of her chest. She quickly pulled her over. Her eyes were partially open and lifeless. Her head was twisted unnaturally. The impact with the horse or the tumble across the road into the ditch had likely broken her neck.
Jillian left her there and walked over to Varen and Nordin. Both men were on their feet now, but Varen was being supported by Nordin. Jillian got to him and examined the wound.
“It’s painful,” Varen said, “but I think I’m all right.”
She nodded. “We’ll need to get that out and cauterize the wound,” she said. “You’re not going to enjoy it.”
He nodded, smiling. “I know. I’m just glad you got here in time. Who were they and how did you know?”
“They were wraith dancers from the High Guard in Babale,” Jillian said. “Your attacks on Belial’s palace and temple have not gone unnoticed. The dragon commissioned them to assassinate you.”
Nordin gave him a scolding look. “And they would have too, if Jillian had not come.”
Varen took his admonishment as though he expected to receive it on a regular basis. “How did you know, my love?”
“They came to Tarris in order to get our intelligence reports,” she said. “I told you they have been aware of your visits to the city. Now you see what has come of it. They met with me and the Supreme Matron. I had to tell them what the High Guard knew of your whereabouts.”
Varen smiled, stroking her hair as a tear ran down her cheek. “Do not fret for it, my love,” he said. “You were in a compromised position. You had no choice.”
Nordin looked at her. “He’s right,” the old man said. Jillian was surprised by his sudden understanding. “If you had refused to tell them, they would have killed you. They would have used the information anyway and we would both be dead,” Nordin said. “You did the right thing and I for one am indebted to you for my life and the life of my sometimes foolish protégé.”
Jillian smiled; another tear escaping as she reached over to hug the old man’s neck. “Thank you,” she said.
Nordin grinned. “Now, let’s get a fire going and tend to this wound before he loses anymore blood.”
COUNCIL
Ezekiah sat patiently, waiting for his brother in the faith and fellow council member to finish speaking. Arthur was an elderly man and well respected among the elders living at Thorn Mountain. He had fought in past rebellions against the dragons as testified by his missing left leg and patched eye.
“The weapons left by Ezekiah’s father, are enough to equip an army, certainly, but even with the map, they will not have direct access to the cache as we have,” Arthur said.
Harris, a younger man but also well-favored, spoke up. “Yes, but are we certain who took them? If this was just the work of a common thief—”
Ezekiah stood up then. “Brothers, this was no ordinary thief,” he said. “Varen is the only one who was here when it was taken and he is the only man bold enough to use those weapons against the Serpent Kings.”
“But didn’t you say that a wraith dancer had been the one to steal the map?” Harris asked.
“Indeed I did,” Ezekiah said. “The precision of the attack was the same as we’ve seen before. Varen’s men would have been far more crude.”
“You’re suggesting that a wraith dancer has joined Varen’s army?”
“I am only stating the facts,” Ezekiah said. “Varen wanted weapons and was here when the map was taken. A wraith dancer actually pulled off the theft and killed Bartholomew. I realize it’s unheard of, but we can’t deny the evidence. And if Varen has managed to turn a wraith dancer to his cause, then he has become far more dangerous than he was before.”
“Can we stop him?” Harris asked.
“I don’t feel like we have liberty to go just yet,” Ezekiah said. “Perhaps, Elithias will send us soon, though I’m not sure.”
�
��Maybe this isn’t a matter for prayer, but a clear case of necessary action,” Harris offered.
Arthur answered before Ezekiah could. “There is no such circumstance, Harris. I realize Ezekiah may have seemed unresponsive to others, but his willingness to wait upon Elithias has never led us wrong. If he does not feel led to go at this time then we wait until he does, regardless of how the situation may appear. Too often, in the scriptures, we find examples of those who hastened ahead of the Elithias’ will in their folly, supposing man could know better.”
Arthur turned to Ezekiah and patted him on the shoulder. “I knew your father and that same compulsion to wait upon Elithias helped to make him a great man,” he said. “I’ll support whatever decision you make, Ezekiah.”
The prophet smiled, then stood before the elders assembled in their council chamber; twelve in all. “As I said, I feel that we may indeed be sent to secure the weapons, but the time is not yet. Nevertheless, I feel that we would be foolish not to at least prepare for that eventuality.”
He turned to Arthur. “I thank you for your support, my friend. You happen to be the expert among us on the locomotive. We will need to have it ready to go, should the need arise. Do you think you could assemble a team and see to it?”
“I’d be happy to…the old girl’s been waiting along time for a good run,” Arthur said, grinning. “It’ll be a pleasure to see her in action again.”
Ezekiah turned to the assembly. “Are we in agreement, gentlemen? Do we trust Elithias as we have thus far?”
The majority agreed easily, though Ezekiah noticed a few who might have dissented had it not been for his challenge about trusting the will of Elithias. To offer a dissent then, would seem to rebel against Elithias. None of them were willing to be seen in that light. All hands went up.
The men left their chairs and began to spill out into the hallway, each going his own way. Donavan and Tobias were waiting outside the door for Ezekiah when he stepped out.
“How did it go?” Donavan asked.
“We have chosen to wait and let Elithias lead us,” Ezekiah said.
“Good,” Donavan said. “I’m still perplexed on how Varen might have enlisted the help of a wraith dancer, seeing they are the most loyal to the dragons.”
“Either way, these traitors are no friend if they come stealing from us,” Ezekiah said.
“Sir?” Tobias interrupted. “A runner from the base camp arrived while you were meeting with the council. They’ve got a group of refugees from Tarris seeking asylum.”
“Good, go and tell the runner that we’ll be along momentarily. I want to meet them personally and put them to the test. We don’t want anymore assassins or thieves in our midst unawares.”
DEADLY
I sat around the fire with Carla and Charles and their surviving child, eating a piece of warm bread. We had arrived late the previous evening, but had been delayed here at the Believer’s base camp far down the mountain from my goal. However, word had been sent up to the castle, and it was expected that soon we would either be allowed to proceed or Ezekiah himself would come down to speak with us.
The news brought hope to my heart. Despite the disaster several days ago and the death of my sister priestess, I would still be able to fulfill my commission from Belial. The prophet would soon be dead. Maybe it would be even easier doing the deed down here where there were minimal soldiers around to interfere. Either way, I would soon return to stand before the High Serpent King and proclaim his greatest enemy dead.
Hours passed as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The day was clear and surprisingly warm. I had spent the last few days traveling in frigid temperatures across frozen tundra with the surviving refugees. Our flight across the metal bridge had been swift. We had wanted as far away from the ruins of the old world and the death walkers as possible. In the days following, our pace had barely slowed. Only the need to relieve ourselves and rest the horses had kept us from sprinting straight for the mountain.
There had been half a dozen guards at the base camp when we arrived. They appeared to be taking no chances. All of them wore armor to some degree or another and they were equipped with swords, crossbows and guns like I had seen used by Peka and his men in the temple attack. More than that, they seemed genuinely wary of us, like spooked animals that have seen danger recently.
Word came to us within the cave around noon. The prophet had finally arrived to welcome us to Thorn Mountain. The guards instructed us to line up at the mouth of the cave while they moved outside. It seemed a strange procedure for addressing new converts and welcoming them among the fold. At least, I thought so until I realized what was happening.
Ezekiah appeared at the mouth of the cave. The guards were arrayed all around him. I stood near the back of the line; fourteen persons altogether. The guards were on edge now, prepared to attack at the slightest provocation. I could see it in their eyes.
The prophet removed his head wrap, standing in the full light of the sun and beckoned the first man forward. Charles, the unofficial leader of our expedition, stepped forward first. Ezekiah shook the man’s hand and began to speak to him. Charles responded, still in the prophet’s grip. After a moment, Ezekiah released him and smiled as he stepped behind the guards to wait. The next person, Carla, stepped forward, and the strange process began again.
I could not hear what had been said. However, one of the elderly women behind me looked over my shoulder. “Ah,” she said, “He’s testing us.”
“What?” I asked. “Testing us how?”
The old woman looked at me, grinning. “They say the prophet knows when a person is lying to him. See how he grips their hands as he speaks to them?”
I looked again. She was right. I had not associated the gesture with anything but a simple greeting. Yet, he held them until they had given their reply.
“It’s no wonder,” the old woman said, “with all the attacks and those priestesses running around killing people for the dragons. They’ve got to be cautious. But we’ll soon be on our way up to the castle.”
Her comment was like a slap to the face. Priestesses going around killing people? She made it sound like those people were innocent; as though we were only butchers preying upon the weak. Wraith dancers were merely the arm of justice, dispensing punishment to those willing to defy the dragons and their laws. But as soon as my righteous indignation flared, the memory of John and his family surfaced.
John and his wife had simply made a mistake. But justice did not allow for mistakes, and wraith dancers had no leeway to retract judgment sent down by the Serpent Kings. I tried to bypass the memory and hold onto my anger, but I couldn’t manage it. Guilt was creeping up on me, trying to bring me down and smother my will; to keep me from fulfilling my commission today.
I mustered my zeal and pushed the memory aside. I didn’t need to reconcile this matter right now. I had to stay focused on my objective. Six people had now passed the prophet’s testing. I was tenth in line out of fourteen. My turn was rapidly approaching. I had to strike before he revealed my true nature, before the guards could react.
I looked at the man as he grabbed the hand of another man, number seven, and asked his question. I was struck for a moment by how handsome the prophet was. Sandy hair and blue eyes. He hadn’t shaved in a day, leaving a layer of dark stubble caressing his face. The prophet was not an overly large man, but appeared to be strong; yet I could see a compelling kindness in his eyes.
Number seven passed beyond the guards as number eight moved up to meet him; a younger woman who seemed eager to touch the man. She was shaking, and not just from the cool air. I suddenly realized that my turn was almost upon me. I closed my eyes. Now was the time. When the woman in front of me moved forward I would have to strike. The guards and Ezekiah would be focused upon her rather than me in that moment.
I reached out for the Gifts of Transcendence, delving as deeply into their power as I had ever gone. Nothing. I reached out again…panic beginning to well up within m
e. Still, there was nothing. I had never experienced such a thing. I could not access the gifts. It felt like they had never even existed.
My eyes darted in every direction. What was I going to do? I could not use my special abilities, but I still had to strike the prophet down. I began to tremble in anticipation of the moment. But there was nothing to be done. I had to complete my mission regardless of this catastrophe.
My eyes locked with a boy standing near the prophet among the guards. He was looking at me curiously; his eyes scrutinizing me. Did he know? How could he? I was merely being paranoid.
The eighth person blushed and released Ezekiah’s hand. She had been holding on past the time he had let her go. She moved beyond the guards while still looking back at the man. The woman in front of me began to walk toward the prophet, leaving me exposed behind her.
I started to move forward, but then hesitated at the last moment. Doubt was trying to overcome me. I suddenly felt like screaming, or crying—I didn’t really know which. I knew everyone around me had figured me out by now. I was an imposter, a fraud among them; an assassin sent to destroy a man they admired, that some probably even loved.
All too quickly, the woman in front of me had answered the prophet’s question. I had heard what he had asked that time. “Have you renounced your faith in the dragon gods and trusted in Elithias to save your soul?” The woman had answered easily, offering him an emphatic, “yes.”
Clearly he had seen no reason to doubt her statement. But the question would now come to me. I would be expected take the prophet’s strong hand. If his power was true, then my lying heart would be revealed to him. Was his god real? Had I believed wrongly all this time? How could he possibly know the secrets of my heart unless his god told him my thoughts?
I started forward, acutely aware of many eyes now resting upon me. They were all expecting another young woman of faith. Someone who would answer as easily as the others had. I noticed that a few of the guards weren’t even looking at me. They had already looked into the cave to those still waiting, trying to pick out a traitor by appearance alone. How wrong they were.
I watched my feet take those first few steps, and then forced my eyes to meet his. Ezekiah was smiling at me. He seemed so unthreatened by my appearance, so eager to welcome me among his followers. Part of me wanted to shake his hand, to bear my heart and soul, to have my questions raised and see if this so-called prophet had the answers I desired.
But I was still a wraith dancer. I had been sent by Belial the Glorious to administer justice to this infidel. I was a weapon in the hand of the High Serpent King; the most powerful of the dragon gods. Who was this man to defy him? Who was this Elithias he preached? Why did I have anything to fear from him?
My hand passed over the place where my best dagger was hidden. I came away with it ready to strike. Four feet from the outstretched hand, my arm cocked for the killing blow. I strode forward confidently; regardless of the absence of the Gifts of Transcendence. I even met his eyes and his smile with one of my own. One more step forward and this trusting fool would die by my hand.
I heard the explosion almost at the same time that I felt something strike me hard in the breast. My body, purposed though I was to continue forward, was thrown violently backward away from the prophet. I caught the bewildered expression, the surprise in his eyes as I was thrown away from him by something I still did not comprehend.
I realized that I was falling. The boy passed before my eyes. The gun in his hand was pointed in my direction, the barrel of the weapon still smoking. He had a determined but shocked expression. Now, I could only see the ground and the feet of the guards moving toward me.
I felt heaviness in my chest. I wasn’t breathing, though I wanted to take a breath very badly. A dull ache was spreading over my entire body as all of my strength ebbed away. I managed to turn onto my back, though I could no longer feel the ground beneath me. Numbness crept over the dull ache, replacing it as it spread throughout my limbs and torso. I saw the sky. The sun was beginning to fade in my vision as though a dark cloth had been drawn over my face.
The last image I remember, though, was the face of the prophet. Ezekiah was staring down at me. My eyes locked with his. I desperately hoped that I might cling to life, but I knew life was fleeing from me. Then, the strangest thing happened. He smiled at me. I could see no malice there, no feigned emotion; only kindness radiating from this man whom I had thought a moment before to kill. I carried that curiosity with me as oblivion tore me away from life.
MIRACLE
Tobias’ hand trembled only slightly as he watched the young woman fall before him. She had moved so fast, like a blur. For a moment, he had thought she was merely extending her hand in order to take hold of Ezekiah’s outstretched hand.
There had been a brief moment, seconds before, when Tobias had seen what she was going to do. He had assumed it was only paranoia producing the thought. Now, he realized that he had actually seen her attack in perfect detail just before it had occurred. He had raised the revolver late for the premonition, but just in time to stop the actual event transpiring.
No one else had seemed to see the glint of steel in her hand as she approached Ezekiah. Even now, looking at the prophet’s bewildered expression, Tobias saw that the man still did not understand what had happened. The guards were looking at him rather than the attacker, as though this boy had mistakenly shot an innocent young woman in his zeal to protect the man that had rescued him from a massacred village.
But as quickly as the woman fell, the truth was revealed. The long, bejeweled dagger clanged loudly against the rock, having fallen from her hand. Ezekiah knelt beside her, looking into her face. The guards moved in around them curious to see the woman assassin in her last moments, and perhaps to be sure that she did not strike out one last time at the prophet before expiring.
Tobias simply stood there. The gun dropped to his side. He knew his aim had been true. His father had trained him with the weapon even when he had not yet been trained with the sword. It was one of his father’s prized possessions; a relic from the old world. Tobias had retrieved it from the lock box under his parent’s bed before the house was set ablaze.
He had never killed a person before. Tobias watched the scene unfolding before him, but he felt strangely disconnected from it all. The woman’s tunic was stained heavily from blood pumping out of the wound beneath. He had aimed for her heart. Ezekiah was smiling down at her full of pity for her lost soul. That was so like the man who had, only days before, led Tobias to place his faith in Elithias, just as his father and sister had done before him.
Oddly, the girl had managed to smile back; her eyes growing bright just before life escaped them. She was dead. Tobias couldn’t be sorry for that. He had protected God’s prophet from almost certain death.
Hudson, the physician, had moved the guards out of the way in order to examine the girl. Ezekiah moved aside as well, but remained on his knees next to her body. “A clean shot to the heart, I’d say,” Hudson said. He turned to Tobias. “Excellent work, young man.”
For a second, most of the people were looking at him, making Tobias feel uncomfortable.
“I have to wonder if this is the same wraith dancer who stole my map,” Ezekiah said.
“Seems like Varen would have wanted that map brought straight away,” Hudson offered. “It’s been too long.”
“He could have sent her back to kill me in case I decided to stand against him claiming the weapons,” Ezekiah said.
Hudson nodded. “That would make sense.” They knelt there silently for a moment longer before standing. Hudson motioned to the soldiers who were standing around as though in a daze; like they still hadn’t registered what had happened. “All right, lads, let’s get the body wrapped,” Hudson said. “We’ll need to take her down into the valley to bury her.”
“No,” Ezekiah said, still staring down at her. He looked around. Every eye was upon him. “Hudson, have her body taken to the castle,
to the courtyard.”
Hudson looked at him queerly for a moment. “Are you sure? There’s no place for burial on the mountain.”
Ezekiah seemed to be looking past the man for a moment. Finally he focused on the physician again. “Yes, I’m sure. I can’t explain it, but I am sure.”
The work began in earnest. None of the men wanted to be caught out if the weather happened to turn bad, as it often did on Thorn Mountain. One of the guards approached Ezekiah as he watched the young woman’s body being covered for the trip up the mountain.
“Sir, you haven’t checked the other refugees yet,” he said, keeping a wary eye on the four people still standing in the mouth of the cave. Ezekiah looked at them for a long moment, and then turned back to the soldier. “I feel that Elithias has assured me this woman was the only assassin in our midst.”
The soldier nodded and then went about his business. The refugees whispered among themselves as they prepared for the journey upward. However, Charles separated himself and came to Ezekiah. “Master, I beg your forgiveness for bringing this imposter to the mountain. We had no idea. Only days ago, she helped to save the lives of those you see with me today. Her companion died trying to defend my young daughter who was killed by an ambush of death walkers hiding out among the ruins across the Black River.”
Ezekiah focused on what the man was telling him. “Death walkers, you say? They attacked as a group?”
“Yes,” Charles confirmed. “There were a great many. We started out from Tarris with twice this number, but when we had to divert to the metal bridge at the ruins they came upon us and killed half of our people and some of the horses. This woman and her companion, sent to join us by Felonius, killed a great number of the creatures and enabled our escape over the bridge.”
“I see,” Ezekiah said. “At any rate, there was nothing you could have done. Wraith dancers are expert assassins. This is what they do. You could not have known.”
Charles nodded to the prophet and then rejoined his family as everyone except the soldiers stationed to the base camp began to start up the stairs leading them inside the mountain. Ezekiah caught Tobias by the shoulder as he holstered his pistol. The boy had remained silent throughout the entire ordeal.
“Tobias,” he said. “I am very grateful to you. I’m sure the Lord sent you with me today in order to save my life. Thank you for being faithful in his service.”
Tobias hugged the prophet but did not say anything. When he let go, he watched the body transported past him. Tobias took up the march behind the makeshift pall bearers. Ezekiah bid farewell to the soldiers who would remain, then followed behind.