He brought the tome to Abe, handed it over. Shade leaned in as his brother rifled through the pages. Cooper kept on talking. “They were wondrous finds, these books. Ancient scriptures, passed down through time and translated, filled with life lessons, parables, the history of the known universe, the teachings of the great prophet Yehoshua… and prophesies.”
“What sort of prophesies?” asked Abe quietly.
“Those dealing with the destruction of our world, once and forever.” Cooper went back to the chest. “Much of what the book says is steeped in symbolism and riddles.” Of course they are, thought Shade. “However, the great thinkers among the Elders went about deciphering those prophesies, and what they discovered is frightening.”
The so-called prophet wrung his hands. “Most of those left behind when the Elders departed this realm, such as ourselves, thought them to be a godless people. That would be a misconception. They worshipped the God of their ancestors, the One True God. They wished to improve the world the Ancients ruined, to save it from the coming darkness, to actually live according to Yehoshua’s law. So when they discovered that the greatest evil of all would rise up from the east and lay waste to the land, they made preparations. They harnessed the Soul Fragments and created a great device, one that would send the Morningstar, the King of Demons, back to the hell from which he came and seal him in there forever.” He swallowed, hard. “I found such a device inside the Elders’ tomb. We call it the Spear of God.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Abe asked. “You’ve known me all your life, Shade spent months in your settlement. You were our friend. We could have helped.”
Cooper puckered. “I should have. The device is a dangerous thing, a creation of such power that it could threaten the very fabric of the universe Our Lord created. I didn’t know then what I know now. I did not know at first if you could be trusted.”
“And that’s why you sent me away,” Shade muttered.
“Not entirely,” Cooper said with a wince. “And in hindsight, not the greatest decision I’ve made.”
“Oh yeah?” said Meesh. “Why’s that?”
The man started pacing once more. “Because the Morningstar is here. He walks among us,” he said. “Fifteen months ago, the cloaked demon came to Lemsberg. He came into our village with an army of the dead, seeking the device. So many died; mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children. Had I trusted you, had I told the Unburned of what we had discovered, you might have saved countless lives.” Cooper pivoted and looked solemnly at Asaph, who remained seated. “As it was, had our guardian angel from the forgotten north not been with us, we all would have perished.”
“Him?” Shade said. “That liar?”
Asaph ran a hand over his bald head. “I just… omitted certain things,” he said.
Cooper went on. “Asaph had come to us only a month before. He had brought with him ranged weapons from home, and it was he who discovered how to operate the Elders’ machines. We were able to drive back the Morningstar and his undead host. We defeated the evil, if only for a moment, and allowed us the time to find out how God wishes us to save His world.”
“Would this be the same cloaked man that supposedly laid waste to Breighton?” Abe asked Asaph, hands on hips.
“The same,” the older man said.
“Such a shame,” Cooper said, more despondent than before. “Had I known the Lord of Demons was following me, I would have taken precautions. Don’t you see? It is he who’s split the fabric of the universe! It is he who’s rained destruction on this land once more. I only wish to save it! Which is why I relented and sent that plea of help to Sal Yaddo…”
“A plea we never heard,” Abe said.
“My courier must not have reached you,” Cooper replied. “He never returned to us either.”
Abe shrugged. “Let us say you did send word. How did you come to find us trustworthy, when you didn’t before?”
At that, the brigand prophet grinned. “It was all in the Good Book.” He hurried to Abe’s side and took the tome from his hands. After flipping a few pages, he handed it back and jabbed a finger at the text. “There. Right there. The story of three brothers, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, those who were placed in a furnace for their beliefs and remained unburned, so much did they love their God.”
Shade read along with Abe, and there were the three names, right there in English. No, Straightspeak, he thought, stepping away from his brother and facing the supposed prophet. “What proof is there that all of this isn’t lies?” he asked harshly.
“It’s right there. In the book,” said Cooper.
“Er, I think what my brother’s saying,” Meesh said, “is we wanna see physical proof. Anyone can write a book.”
Abe nodded. “I agree. You say you have the machines of the Elders? Show us. You say this demon master is real? Prove it. Make us believe that the Cubes are really fragments of the soul of your god.”
Cooper took a deep breath and inclined his head. “Very well. Follow me.”
He led them out of the pavilion and past the vast array of tents, to a huge barn that looked to have been newly constructed, with a base of stacked stone, the wooden sides covered with a fresh coat of paint. Cooper took a step back after reaching the barn’s huge barred doors, and Bertram removed the bar. The doors swung open, and the afternoon sun shone orange-red into the darkened interior. The knights gasped.
There were countless machines lined up inside the barn; great things of pressed metal with four giant black wheels. Some were smaller, some quite large, with huge flat carts, themselves with wheels, latched to them. The things looked like carriages, only they had eyes on their fronts and chrome teeth. Shade remembered Asaph’s stories of the Ancients and their horseless carriages and flying machines, and he glanced at the man, who had remained behind them, fidgeting with his hands.
Cooper strolled into the barn and placed a palm on one of the smaller machines. “Creations of the Elders,” he said.
“Do they work?” Abe asked.
“They do.” Cooper hopped inside the horseless carriage and sat down in a formed leather seat positioned behind what looked like a ship’s wheel. He then leaned over and pressed a button, and the carriage purred to life. The round eyes on the front lit up.
“Whoa,” Meesh said. “That’s awesome.”
The brigand prophet yanked a lever, and the thick black wheels turned as he guided the machine out of the barn. Once outside he stopped, threw the lever again, and slid out from behind the wheel. Cooper reached beneath some sort of instrument panel, and the covering on the nose of the machine popped up with a clank. He lifted the metal casing and beckoned the knights forward.
The belly of the beast was filled with hoses, gears, and belts that cranked and spun, eerily similar to what resided in the caverns beneath the Great Pine. At the center of the engine was a glowing box. Cooper lifted the lid, revealing a Heartcube. Shade stared at the gears, the steel, the spinning belts, and pain spiked behind his eyes. He stepped back, rubbed them, and groaned. When he looked at his brothers, he saw that Abe had reacted the same way, while Meesh seemed simply intrigued.
“These are how we’ve crossed the Wasteland so quickly,” Cooper said. “They’re much faster than horses.”
“Y’know,” said Meesh, “you might’ve thought of maybe using ’em against the hellbeast.”
Cooper shook his head. “We tried. They’re too clunky, great in a straight line but not very maneuverable. And besides, they’re too valuable, too rare. We understand very little of them. The two damaged during our first assault on the beast are useless to us now.”
“No one to fix them,” Shade said, his voice far away to his own ears.
Abe got on his knees, examined the machine’s wheels. “This explains the tracks we found by the mountain,” he said.
“So this is why you’ve been taking Heartcubes.” Meesh tentatively touched the glowing box.
“Not entirely,” Cooper answered. “The Shards
are needed for the Spear of God.”
“And where is this Spear?” asked Abe.
Cooper gestured with his chin. “Bertram?”
“Of course.”
Bertram guided the knights into the barn, with Cooper and Asaph following behind. Light filtered in through skylights in the ceiling high above. They weaved between horseless carriages of all sizes. There had to be at least fifty. Shade had a hard time holding onto his anger in light of the spectacle.
The group came to a halt in front of a long platform on wheels. Sitting on it was an object sheathed in canvas, ten feet tall and four feet wide. Bertram climbed atop the platform and untied a few knots. The canvas sheet fell away, revealing a strange silver column of solid steel, its surface polished to a sheen, the top rising to a slender point. At the base was a door, the only thing about it that wasn’t smooth. Shade had to admit, the thing really did look like a spear.
“The Spear of God,” Cooper said. “It requires a huge number of Shards to operate. Two hundred of them.”
Abe whistled. “That’s… quite a bit.”
“It is,” Cooper answered.
Asaph edged up to Shade. “Just so you know, I don’t believe Heartcubes are gifts from God,” the scholar whispered, but Shade was too awed to reply.
The brigand prophet stepped away from the platform and approached the wall of the barn, where a small metal box hung. “And this, my Unburned friends, is how I know I need you.” He twisted a black dial, swung the box open, and stepped back to present what was inside to the brothers.
An Eldersword, nestled in a bed of fabric, fully extended, silver blade glinting. Shade’s heart leapt in his chest.
“Where’d you get this?” Meesh asked.
“Same place as the rest,” Cooper said. “In the vault that held all you see here. I lost two men trying to get it into that safe.” The man pulled on a pair of thick gloves and grasped the handle. He winced in pain after a moment as the blade faintly glowed. “These things… are pretty dangerous… even with protection…” He quickly put the sword back where he had gotten it, and relief washed his features. “These blades were meant for the likes of you, God’s warriors. You wield them as easily as I would a ladle.”
“Huh,” Meesh said, reaching into the crate and touching the hilt. After half a minute, it lit up bright white, the way un-bonded Elderswords did.
“Any pain?” Bertram asked.
“Nope.”
“You see? You were meant for them.”
“Seems to be.”
“Just as you were meant for these,” said Bertram. He strolled over to three lumps covered by a sheet, and when he pulled it back, he revealed what looked like three nine-foot-long, slender eggs that’d been halved lengthwise. Each one had a downward curve at the center covered with blackened material, like a saddle. A pair of handles protruded, one on either side of the curved surface. But unlike the horseless carriages, these had no wheels.
“What are those?” Shade asked.
“Transportation,” Cooper said.
Asaph cleared his throat. “The literature called them Warhorses. The steeds of God’s chosen soldiers.”
“Warhorses?” Shade approached one of the odd-looking things, ran his finger along the smooth steel, cool and almost pliable to the touch. He then inspected the saddle-like compartment, and the two handles that stuck out in front. He swung his leg over the thing and sat down. In order to grasp the handles he had to lean forward so his chest almost touched the smooth steel.
“Huh,” he said.
The thing started humming, much like his Eldersword did. Shade sat up with a start as a whirring noise reached his ears. The area between the two handles began to glow, and a tinny, proper voice spoke. “Well, hello there,” it said.
Shade stared at the thing, felt vibrations course through his body. “Uh, hello?” he said.
“I’m Lupe,” said the contraption, beginning to lift off the ground. “I’m your steed. Would you like to go for a ride, Shadrach?”
Shade leapt out of the saddle, his heart racing. “I take that as a no,” the slender machine said. The buzzing ceased, the glow faded, the voice went silent. Shade stood a few feet away, hands on his knees, panting. It knew my name. He couldn’t understand why he felt so scared.
“Well, I guess they work,” he heard Asaph say.
“I’m trying one next,” Meesh said with excitement.
“No,” Abe said, his voice stern. Shade saw the look of distrust in Abe’s eyes, gathered himself and stood up straight. “You’re distracting us with bells and whistles,” the eldest knight said.
“Distracting you from what?” Cooper asked.
“You’ve shown us fancy inventions created by a long-dead people. We know they were brilliant. We’ve seen the Sacred Trees. Which means you’re stalling. Azzar the Scourger king said you had proof that this demon lord is real. Let’s see it.”
Cooper brought his hands to his face, nibbled one of his fingernails, glanced anxiously at Shade. “I don’t think it’s time yet.”
“Don’t argue. If you want our help with… whatever this is, you’ll show us. Now.”
“What’s the problem?” said Asaph. “Just show them already.”
Cooper gave the man a sour look. Bertram went over and whispered in Cooper’s ear. The brigand prophet nodded curtly, frowning as he weaved through the countless machines once more. Abe and Meesh were hot on his heels, while Shade took up the rear. Asaph, limping as he walked, joined his side as they exited the barn. Bertram stayed behind to close it up.
“Just wanted to let you know I’m sorry,” Asaph said. “I didn’t know if I could trust you… and the way you talked about Ronan… well, let’s just say I thought you might slit my throat if I admitted I knew the man.”
Shade grunted and hurried to catch up with the others, a nervous knot in his stomach. The way Cooper had looked at him kept flashing in front of his eyes.
Cooper left the confines of his camp and brought them to the heart of Lambswool. They entered a residential area. Small, quaint brick homes lined the road, and children laughed and played all around them. There was a joyous feel in the air that Shade couldn’t identify with. When a mother with a babe on her breast smiled at him from her front stoop, all he could do was turn away and stuff his hands in his pockets.
“Why the hell are we here?” Meesh whispered.
Shade had no answer.
Cooper abruptly turned up the front walk of a seemingly random home, rapped on the door, and waited. His foot tapped nervously. The door opened, and a beautiful older woman, her hair pulled back tight to her scalp, her dark skin glowing in the crimson sunlight, poked her head out. The brigand prophet leaned over and whispered into her ear, and the woman fell back, hands to her chest. Tears formed in her eyes, and she considered Shade peculiarly, but she seemed to gather herself. She stepped outside, walked past Cooper and down the stairs, and circled around the house. The five men followed her.
There was a large shed that had been newly built at the rear of the home. The woman handed Ronan Cooper a key, then turned, offered Shade a slight bow and a word of thanks, and went back the way she came. She was crying.
“Be warned,” Cooper said as he slid the key into the shed’s lock. “This… isn’t a pleasant sight.”
“Uh, okay,” Meesh said.
Beside Shade, Abe tensed.
Cooper turned the key and shoved through the opening.
Shade stared at his brothers, at the shed. A putrid stench assaulted his nose. He suddenly wanted to be out in the desert again, fighting mindless beasts and greedy men.
He entered the shed.
The place was large, twenty feet squared, and butted up against the far wall was a cage. A figure hunched there, hair long and ratty, clothed in tattered rags. The knights covered their noses and approached the bars. The prisoner’s back was to them; she was definitely female, but her shoulders didn’t rise or fall. The air stank thickly of decay.
; “What the hell is this?” Abe asked.
Cooper remained near the shed door. “Proof of the Morningstar’s existence. Shadrach, I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Shade murmured.
Cooper finally approached the cage, rapping on the bars and shouting. A grunt sounded from the woman, and she slowly turned around. The knights backed away from the cage. Horror nearly struck Shade dead.
It was Vera, but then it wasn’t. Her eyes were white and empty, her flesh covered with sores, her hair had fallen out in clumps, but he could plainly see the shadow of her former beauty. She stumbled toward the bars, head cocked to the side, teeth clacking mindlessly.
“No,” Shade whispered. He couldn’t say anything more.
“It never gets any prettier no matter how many times you see it,” Asaph said.
“Holy shit,” Meesh said.
“How do you know this is a reanimated corpse?” Abe asked the brigand prophet. “We’ve seen poor souls infected by possessors degrade in the same way.”
“Yes, but this is different,” Cooper answered. “This one doesn’t breathe, her heart doesn’t beat, which isn’t like possessors. We’ve brought her all over the Wasteland, and you know those oily demons can’t exist far from the fissure that created them. She also isn’t affected by silver…”
Cooper’s voice prattled on and on, offering explanation after explanation, but Shade couldn’t make out the words. All he could do was stare at the moving corpse of his dead lover. His heart felt shattered, he lost control of his muscles. He collapsed onto the floor in front of the cage. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, pitiful moans leaked from his throat. He reached through the bars, wanting to touch her, just once, please just once. Vera’s head turned slowly, stared at him with those dead white eyes.
“Vera,” he blurted out.
“Shade, no!” someone shouted. Hands were on him, tugging him backward. The dead thing in the cage reached out slowly for him. Shade kicked at his captors, flailed his arms. His fist struck flesh and someone yelped in pain. The hands disappeared, and he found himself slumped in the middle of the floor. When he lifted his head, he saw his brothers stood a few feet away; Abe rubbed his chin, teeth gritted, surprise shining in his eyes, while Meesh looked down on him as if he were some other-worldly beast he was seeing for the very first time. Asaph limped up to the two knights, put a hand on both their shoulders. The man said something in a low voice, and Shade’s brothers pivoted, however reluctantly, and headed for the door. They exited the shed; the door slammed shut behind them. Shade gaped, left alone in a confined space with his undead lover and the man her ghost had implored him to kill.
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