by James Somers
A DECEPTIVE CALL
Ethan stood among the target dummies at the end of the archery range, his body en guard in a traditional martial arts stance, watching his friend and mentor take aim. Almost four months of intense training had brought him to this point. Gideon refused to be specific, but he had at least been excited about the speed with which Ethan took to the training and ways of the priesthood.
Ethan had heard the other priestly mentors commenting about Gideon’s pupil being almost born to the tasks presented to him. He was glad for the attention surrounding his training, but Gideon had been especially clear to teach him to guard against pride. Ethan whispered a prayer of submission to the will of Shaddai, then heard the release of Gideon’s bowstring fifty yards away.
Ethan tracked two arrows—simultaneous—as Gideon was fond of doing. They were dead on target. In the blink of an eye, Ethan leaned to the side, snapping his right arm out and through both arrow shafts. These four months had trained speed into his body, nearly catching up with his unnatural speed of sight.
Gideon grinned at his able pupil, but did not let up the assault just yet. Six more shafts followed in lightning quick succession. Ethan snapped five in the same manner, then caught the last as he spun and came back to his original stance. Only this time, he curled his index finger at his mentor—ready for more. Gideon laughed and lowered his bow.
Just then, the cry of a falcon pierced the air. Both Gideon and Ethan looked up, as did priests all over the courtyard. They saw the large predatory bird pierce the cloud cover at the top of the chasm. “A message is coming in,” Gideon said.
The falcons had been trained to go directly to a perch residing in the walkway outside of Isaiah’s private quarters. By the time Gideon and Ethan ascended to the seventh level and ran around the circular walkway carved into the chasm wall, the High Priest was already reading the message. Joseph, another mentoring priest who kept the falcons and cared for them, stroked the bird, feeding it a plump, wriggling mouse as a treat.
Gideon stopped running when Isaiah’s eyes rose to meet his own. He could see it in the High Priest’s expression—Macedon had finally called for the Word. Gideon smiled, but Isaiah did not return it. Gideon became concerned. Were him and his star pupil not going to receive this assignment?
Gideon had honestly never considered the possibility. After all, Ethan needed the training, he was more than ready, and if he was going to accomplish the purposes of Shaddai, he could not stay here at the Temple forever. Isaiah’s expression beckoned Gideon to follow, but also betrayed his lack of enthusiasm for the argument about to come from his most valued priest and dearest friend.
When Gideon got to the chamber door, he turned, motioning for Ethan to remain outside. He smiled and closed the door behind him. Gideon walked into the dimly lit room where Isaiah stood beside the fireplace leaning upon the hearth on one hand. He looked tired.
“Are you all right?” Gideon asked.
Isaiah sighed. “I’ve not been sleeping well the past week. I see visions, disturbing images, and I have no explanation for them. If the Almighty desires to show me something, I have no idea what it means.”
“What sort of images?”
“Explosions, fire, and a man in black, but I could not discern the identity,” Isaiah said.
Gideon thought about it, but had no idea what any of it could mean. Isaiah had the gift of foresight. Often Shaddai showed him events that were going to happen. But usually the Almighty gave him discernment of the visions. The lack of understanding seemed to shake his mentor to the core.
Isaiah leveled his gaze on his brightest pupil. “I know you want to take the boy and carry the Word to Macedon.”
“Of course…I want to serve any way I can, Isaiah. The boy is ready for this and I truly feel he needs it.”
Isaiah smiled at his friend. “Gideon you are the finest priest I have ever trained and a trusted friend, but I do not share your optimism about sending the boy to this task. Something is waiting, even wanting us to make a move—the wrong move. And I’m mystified as to the correct path. I don’t want to send the boy out before the time.”
“Isaiah, the decision is yours, but please pray about it further before you decide. After all, if it is the will of Shaddai for this boy to destroy Mordred then how can we undo it?”
Isaiah placed a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. It seemed like a weight lifted with his words. “Your wisdom is a gift from the Almighty, Gideon. Of course, you’re right. No one can undo the will of Shaddai.” The High priest settled into his chair. “I watched you test him on the archery field. I’ve never seen a student progress so quickly.”
“Ethan is like a sponge soaking up everything I can throw at him,” Gideon reported. “I’m trying to push him to his limits, as you did me, but I don’t know if I can find his limits. That’s one of the reasons I believe we should not contain him here any longer than we must.”
Isaiah poured them both a cup of tea and handed one to Gideon. “Allow me to meditate and pray about it this evening. Hopefully the Lord will give us an answer by tomorrow.”
Mordecai waited nearly a quarter mile away from the lip of the chasm. Jericho had been very specific with his instructions—that he not venture any closer else he would risk being seen by the angels guarding the Temple. The evening grew dim as the sun descended toward the west and the clouds hanging around the mountain captured the light, casting a reddish-pink hue over the entire landscape around him.
“It is time,” a menacing voice said from behind.
Mordecai turned to find Jericho there perched on a short outcropping of bare rock.
“I’m ready,” Mordecai said. He was dressed completely in snug-fitting, black clothing along with a hood, which tied around his face so that only the bridge of his nose and his eyes were visible.
“The attack is beginning,” Jericho said. He stood upon the rock looking up into the air. “You must be quick to the chasm and use the cover of the terrain as best as you can.”
The last glimpses of red sunlight began to fade as a shroud of darkness fell across the land. Jericho pulled a massive blade from a scabbard on his back and held it aloft. The final rays glinted upon its surface casting it blood red. “It has been so long since I have engaged my former brothers in battle!”
Mordecai watched as the demon smiled and howled a war cry, leaping into the air. Massive wings, with soiled feathers, burst from his back as he took flight. The demon shot away, becoming invisible to Mordecai either by will or sheer speed. “Go now, Mordecai!” he called back.
The assassin launched out of his hiding place among the rock and bolted through the trees covering the face of the mountain. He heard multiplied peels of thunder cross the sky, yet no rain. He imagined the fierce battle taking place in the atmosphere above while he ran for the edge of the chasm. This way would take him down into the heart of Shaddai’s Temple.
Mordecai finally reached the edge of the cliff. The massive chasm opened up before him like the maw of some giant monster. It looked as though it might be able to swallow an entire city. Faint lantern light shone to him from various places far below. Despite Jericho’s affirmations, Mordecai was surprised to get this far without encountering the Temple’s heavenly defense. The diversion, apparently, was working.
Mordecai removed the layered loop of rope from his shoulder and placed the grappling hook firmly in place on the rock. He wrapped the rope under his rear and took the other end in his hand. Mordecai backed off the ledge, beginning a quick, controlled descent into the mouth of the chasm.
It would be close, but this longest length of rope, taken from the General Goods Store in Millertown, would be just long enough to reach the highest level of the Temple’s many levels. The thunder continued unabated for another five minutes, until Mordecai had almost reached his destination.
When Mordecai came, literally, to the end of his rope, he stood still on the face of the cliff wall, watching a sentry patrol the stone walkway of the highest level
with a lantern in hand. Each of the levels held a walkway running like a horizontal vein through the rock nearly three quarters of the way around the wall of the cylindrical chasm. Each walkway acted as a hub joining living quarters for the priests and other rooms and tunnels to the whole. From there, a series of terraces and stairs interconnected the twenty levels and the massive training courtyard below.
Mordecai hugged the wall with his body as the sentry reached the end of the walkway, searched out over the railing into the darkness of the chasm, then turned to go back the way he had come. Mordecai saw by the color of the young priest’s robes: that he was still a novice learning under a mentor.
Mordecai spotted his opportunity and thrust his body away from the wall. He sailed in a wide arc—a pendulum upon a rope—bringing him precisely to the place where the priest was walking. Mordecai released the rope, and his momentum carried him over the carved stone rail and into the young sentry.
Mordecai delivered a single deadly blow, while in flight, with enough force to break the man’s neck. The young priest never even saw the assassin coming. Now all Mordecai needed to do was get down to the first level where all of the priests-in-training lived. There he would find the boy and finish the job he should have completed in Grandee.
NIGHTMARE AWAKENING
Isaiah tossed and turned upon his bed. Sweat drenched his body beneath his blankets as a nightmare unfolded itself while he slept. He sensed urgency in this dream not present before in earlier dreams and the images pulled him in.
Isaiah viewed the Temple from above, saw angels in white apparel and golden breastplates guarding The Order of Shaddai. Demons of all sorts descended en masse against their heavenly defense. The angels rose to the fight and a battle of epic proportions shook the very heavens as blades and war hammers, battle-axes and whips, fist and claw clashed above the citadel of Shaddai’s priestly servants.
The vision warped to a man in black lurking in shadow, then to Gideon running across the courtyard stones as black pitch rose around his feet, steadily hindering his progress until he struggled to keep his head above the thick darkness. He saw young Ethan, then the man in black sprang from the shadows to attack the boy.
The High Priest burst out of the dream as suddenly as he had been dragged into the nightmare. He was awake, sitting upright in bed, heaving every breath in and out of his tight chest. His senses screamed to him that this vision was not merely part of the future. The danger was now!
Mordecai laughed at how easy they had made this assassination for him. There on the door was the boy’s name: Ethan. He knew the layout of these rooms as well as anyone. His own room, when he had been a trainee, stood just three doors down from this one.
Mordecai drew his blade and kicked the door in. The assassin shot into the room, heading for the teenage boy sitting up in bed. His blade sliced the air. Goose down exploded into a cloud around the bed.
Ethan crouched on the floor in the dark, trying to orient himself after waking up so suddenly. The attacker came again, but Ethan evaded, rolling across the cold stone. Sparks leaped after him as Mordecai whipped the blade back and forth against the floor, following his prey.
Ethan rolled up to his feet, facing his attacker. Mordecai was dressed completely in black, but Ethan could still see him, even feel the heat from his body. The edged steel whistled, cutting through the air. Ethan ducked beneath the strike. But he was backed against the wall already.
Mordecai made a quick thrust, which should have finished the boy, but his blade only bit into the stone. The boy had disappeared. Mordecai leaped back quickly, slicing the air around him as he did so. He had already been informed of the boy’s power by Jericho. Ethan might be invisible, but he could still kill in the physical realm if he put the proper effort forth. One asset Jericho had equipped Mordecai with was the knowledge that any spiritual being, seen or unseen must become physical to affect the physical world.
This was where the rigorous training of a priest of Shaddai would either fail him or empower him. Mordecai closed his eyes and focused on his other senses. He shut out the need for physical sight, waiting motionless for the boy to make his move.
A spiritual blade, suddenly taking on physical characteristics, cut through the air behind Mordecai. He whipped his own sword over his head to his shoulders to block. His steel sang out, impacting with the boy’s unseen weapon. Mordecai’s skin tingled with expectation, every hair standing erect, waiting to taste the ripple of an air current when his invisible enemy moved into the physical world again.
“Come now, boy, let’s not play this game all night,” Mordecai hissed.
The glow of lamplight and the sound of rapid footfalls approached the open doorway. “The sentry…can you warn him before I kill him, Deliverer?” Mordecai asked.
Mordecai ran for the door to meet the unprepared priest who was coming to investigate the noise.
Ethan materialized in order to sound a warning. “Assassin coming out of my room!
Mordecai turned back when he heard Ethan’s voice, whipping his sword at the boy. Ethan sidestepped the weapon, as he had the arrows earlier, but caught the pommel as it passed. Now he had Mordecai’s sword and he went after him.
The sentry appeared in front of the open doorway with a sword in one hand and a lantern in the other. Mordecai kicked the lantern back into the priest’s chest. The glass bell shattered upon impact, spraying the sentry with fire. He dropped his sword as he tried to beat the flames out.
Mordecai swept the blade up, turning to meet a strike from Ethan. A rapid-fire series of strikes, blocks, parries, and faints ensued as each of them tried to find gain the advantage—neither could. Ethan’s sight allowed him to see every move Mordecai made with vivid detail, but he could not make his own movements fast enough to get past his defense.
The sentry screamed as he rolled on the ground, trying to put the flames out. The other priests on the first level began to emerge from their rooms along with a few from the second level. An alarm bell sounded.
Mordecai turned from the fight and ran out into the darkness of the courtyard, expecting Ethan to follow without thinking. He was right. Ethan ran after him without a second thought, bent on destroying his assassin.
The first alarm caused more bells to sound all over the complex. The priests came out of their rooms like angry bees from a busted hive, weapons at the ready. But they were all focused on the first sentry who had managed, by now, to extinguish himself with help from some of the first responders.
Mordecai and Ethan were now shrouded in darkness a good one hundred yards out onto the courtyard. Mordecai turned and swiped at Ethan as he ran up behind. Ethan had too much momentum to stall on the dew-laden grass, so he used it to somersault over the blade as it cut horizontally through the air.
Ethan landed and countered, but Mordecai blocked again. The stalemate raged on in the darkness. Mordecai heard voices: the sentry trying to explain what had happened. Others mentioned the courtyard.
Warrior-priests ran out onto the training grounds with lanterns and weapons, trying to locate Ethan and the assassin. Sparks, from the two blades in combat, led the way as the priests and their lanterns began to light the training-field-turned-battlefield. Mordecai tried his best to get past the young man’s defense, but Ethan’s skill was simply too much to overcome head to head.
Several times, Mordecai made clear strikes past Ethan’s weapon only to meet thin air as the boy realm shifted out of the physical, changed position, and then came back at him. Mordecai’s surprise tactical advantage was gone. The priests of Shaddai ran upon him. Ethan backed away from the fight as the others tried to get around the assassin.
Mordecai stood exposed. Several arrow shafts launched from the crowd. But Mordecai struck them down with deft movements of his weapon or dodged them entirely. The time had come to change his plan. The boy was no longer a feasible goal. I can still hurt The Order though, he thought.
Mordecai charged, flanking of the crowd where the number of pri
ests was fewer. Several tried to intercept him, but he cut them down quickly and charged back toward the edge of the training field. The crowd ran after him with Ethan following.
As Mordecai reached the first set of stairs, leading up toward the second level, he encountered more priests coming down, but they were unsure what was happening. He used surprise to his advantage and struck them down before they realized the situation. He charged upward again.
As he ascended to higher and higher levels, Mordecai encountered less and less resistance. The priests had taken other routes toward the lower levels already, but one man in particular would stay near his quarters. Mordecai pushed his aching legs onward and upward until he reached the seventh level. When he charged onto the landing, he saw the older man standing near the end of the walkway, looking over the stone railing, trying to ascertain the situation.
Mordecai sneered at the High Priest and charged at him like a rabid animal. Isaiah readied himself as the assassin in black rushed toward him. He had no weapon in his hand.
Isaiah let the first strike glide diagonally above his right shoulder. The cutting of the air whistled in his ear. He stepped inside Mordecai’s line of attack—his arms entangling the man’s movements so a second strike became impossible. Isaiah sent several rigid fingers under Mordecai’s ribcage striking his liver, then hammered the man’s right ear with an open palm as solid as a board.
Mordecai staggered backwards, allowing Isaiah to whip one fist out between his arms and knock the sword free. It clattered to the stone floor. Mordecai quickly recuperated and leaped at the High Priest. “I’ll kill you, old man!”
“Mordecai?” Isaiah realized. “I should have known. Only you would have the audacity to try and attack the Temple.”