by James Somers
When the hall ended in great wooden double doors, Gideon stood near behind Mr. Hollingsworth. He was prepared to dispatch this so-called Royal Advisor at the first sign of deception. The guards opened the doors and Mr. Hollingsworth entered with Gideon and Ethan close behind.
“Presenting the Royal Advisor, Mr. Hollingsworth and the distinguished gentlemen from The Order of Shaddai,” the Herald announced.
To Gideon’s genuine surprise, a young man sat upon the throne in the modest chamber. Mr. Hollingsworth led the priests before the throne.
“Gentlemen, so good of you to answer our call for the Word of Shaddai. I am Nichols, King of Macedon.”
Gideon bowed. Ethan followed his mentor’s gesture of good will. “My name is Gideon and this is my apprentice, Ethan. Forgive me, my Lord, but I was unaware that a king presided over the throne in Macedon. According to our prior contacts, the island was still under the control of Mordred and his Wraith Riders.”
“Of course, of course,” Nichols said. “That was the case, until very recently. My father died, imprisoned by Mordred’s Wraith General, Hevas Rommil. In order to help secure the cooperation of the people, Rommil allowed my mother and myself to live in one of our homes on the other side of the island, howbeit under constant guard.
“About a year ago, I was able to organize a revolution and overthrow the sparse army remaining on the island. I captured General Rommil myself and in a gesture of good will, banished him from the island rather than kill him.”
“A mighty deed, for such a young man,” Gideon said.
Nichols swelled with pride. He wasn’t the sort of man one would consider to be a mighty warrior. It wasn’t his size that was in question so much as his manner. Nichols was a bit foppish and pudgy to boot.
“My apprentice had the displeasure of facing Rommil’s brother in battle on the mainland,” Gideon said.
“Ah, really…and the outcome, young man?’
Gideon looked at Ethan, giving him leave to speak up. “I killed him, Majesty.”
Gideon observed the young king closely. Nichols’ eyes betrayed a hint of fear—the slightest twitch of concern over Ethan’s confession.
“Good show, Master Ethan,” he said. At this point, Mr. Hollingsworth interjected. “Sire, our guests did not bring the scrolls with them to the castle.”
“Really—why not?”
“We felt it would be wiser to establish contact with you first,” Gideon said. “After all, we did not know Mordred’s army had been defeated on the island.”
Nichols settled back into the cushions upon his throne. “Well,” he said clapping his hands, “no matter. I’m sure there is plenty of time to retrieve the scrolls from your ship, eh? First, I’ve taken the liberty of having a banquet prepared in your honor. I do hope you will do us the kindness of accepting?”
“Of course, Majesty. Ethan and I would be honored. Would it be possible for us to return to our ship and retrieve more appropriate attire?” he said, tugging on his drab clothing.
Nichols seemed to stammer for the slightest moment. He recovered quickly. “Better yet, I will have my royal tailor provide you with custom garments—a small token of our gratitude for the dangerous journey you’ve made on our behalf.”
Gideon knew Nichols would be insulted if they refused his hospitality. He gave a slight bow at the waist, thanking the king. Nichols was a tactful politician if nothing else.
“Mr. Hollingsworth will show you the way and see that you are well cared for,” Nichols said. “I look forward to talking with you again at dinner.”
Gideon and Ethan followed the Royal Advisor through another door and down a side hall from the throne room. Having met Macedon’s king, Gideon felt less comfortable with this situation than he had before. In fact, he wondered if the danger might not be far worse than he had previously imagined.
BLIND FURY
“I want you men to relieve the deck guard,” said one of Rommil’s captains, “and you men give relief to the guard on the docks around the ship. The crew must be maintained below deck and Captain Bonifast is not allowed out of his cabin. Lieutenant, be sure to assign two men from your company to relieve the two guards in Bonifast’s cabin.”
He finished dissecting his company of soldiers and sent them on their way with their commanding officers. The captain then turned and marched back from the docks toward the shore. He passed a number of homeless urchins huddled up in various places—doorways of dock master offices and small restaurants, all of which littered the massive complex along the Calveran shore.
Among the poor wretches, covered up in their own cloaks upon the ground, one particular blind man rose after the captain had passed. He had dressed completely in black except for his head. His pale blind eyes seemed not to hinder him in the least as he moved fluidly along the floating pathway, toward the Trinity, silent as a ghost.
The man in black hid a mere forty yards from the soldiers guarding the Trinity. Then he entered the water. Up to this point, he had crept quickly and quietly among the shadows, blending like a chameleon with the darkness. The seawater remained quite warm around Macedon, and the blind beggar swam without disturbing the surface of the water in any way that might alert the guards.
He rounded the Trinity, appearing at the stern. The man pulled himself cautiously from the water, sure to minimize the sound of water dripping from his clothes as he ascended. Despite his sightless eyes, his fingers managed to find the nooks and crannies on the hull surface. He pulled himself up the back of the ship, until he was level with the windowpanes of the captain’s cabin, where he listened intently.
Levi Bonifast stirred as one of the guards kicked his boot. The soldiers had beaten him, even after the one-punch-thrashing the Rommil had given him. His face throbbed and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. A dull purple mottled his complexion.
The captain had been bound to his leather, desk-chair in the rear of the room, near three panes of glass comprising most of the back wall. One of the two soldiers in the cabin leaned down to Bonifast, examining him with disdain as his companion watched.
“Hey, Bonifast, what’s wrong? You look a bit sad to be in our company,” he said mockingly. He looked back at his friend for approval. “I’ve heard of you, ya know? They say you were once the scourge of the Four Seas, a pirate to be reckoned with. You don’t look so tough to me, though. I think maybe you made up those stories just to satisfy your own ego, eh?”
Bonifast peered up at him slightly. On his face scattered rivulets of dried blood ran from small lacerations. The captain said nothing. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of provoking further physical abuse. Instead, he wondered about the well-being of Gideon and Ethan. None of the guards had mentioned them at all, and they had not returned to the ship.
“Too bad about your little mission of mercy, Bonifast,” the guard said. “I suppose, by now, General Rommil is probably having those boys tortured to death. Children make the most fascinating noises when you’re peeling the flesh from their bones.”
Bonifast thrust up, toward the soldier, against the bindings on his wrist and ankles. The ropes held him fast to the chair. The soldier looked pleased. He drew back a leather-covered fist to smash the defiance out of Bonifast.
The swivel latch on the right side window popped. The pane swung open on its hinge, and suddenly the soldier found himself overtaken by a living shadow. An arm around his neck dragged him off his feet.
The attacker crossed the room with the first soldier in tow. He assailed the second man almost before the guard noticed the sudden movement in the room. A precision strike to the soldier’s trachea sent him to the floor clutching his throat breathlessly as though he were choking on a piece of food.
Bonifast watched as the soldier turned blue and then relaxed. The attacker still held the first soldier in an iron grip. A jerk of his arm produced an unpleasant snap. The man in black released the guard’s limp body to the floor in silence.
Levi hadn’t been gagge
d, but he was too astonished to speak. The mysterious man produced a stunted blade and made quick work of Levi’s bindings. “I’m Seth,” he whispered. “I’m from The Order.”
This was all the encouragement Levi needed. He jumped to his feet ready for action. “We must get to your friends,” Seth said, heading for the window.
It was at this moment that Levi looked into Seth’s face, into his eyes. “But your blind,” he stammered.
Seth ignored the remark. “Your friends are in grave danger, Captain.”
Bonifast regained his composure, nodding his understanding. Privately, the mysterious younger man affecting his rescue bewildered him. An untamed mop of brown curls accentuated his boyish features, but it was the pale eyes, which struck him.
Seth led the way and leaped out of the window. Levi flew out of the window after him making the slightest adjustment to his trajectory to miss Seth in the water.
Due to the care Seth had taken for silence and the lackadaisical attitude of the sleepy soldiers guarding the deck, the slain guards in the captain’s cabin and their missing prisoner would not be discovered before the next rotation.
ROYAL TREATMENT
When the time came for the feast Nichols had promised, Gideon and Ethan entered the dining hall, wearing the custom garments prepared for them. The blue and silver material was luxurious to the touch and the Royal Tailor had done an excellent job with the fittings. Still, it was uncomfortable to be out of their priestly garb, and Ethan wondered if they weren’t now lounging in the gifts of a deceiver, or worse their own burial attire.
A fabulous spread of food lay on a large table before them. Ethan noticed all of the other guests at the dinner happened to be military personnel—and as their dress allowed, they were armed. Ethan and Gideon had not had the opportunity. Their weapons had been removed along with the ragged clothing they had been wearing.
Ethan unconsciously decided which of the soldiers sitting near them would be the first to be disarmed if he and Gideon ran into trouble. At the slightest provocation, he could realm shift to King Nichol’s place at the head of the table and hold the man hostage in order to withhold an attack if necessary.
Still, Nichol’s military officers seemed not the least bit interested in bothering them. They wore no tense, eager expressions nor did nervous hands guard the hilts of their brightly polished swords. All remained jovial and filled their faces at once when the servants brought their plates. Nichol’s also looked on with great pleasure, toasting the priestly order from the head of the table.
Ethan noticed Gideon eyeing the plates set before them and the goblets filled with wine. They would not be drinking any. The Word clearly forbade them to partake, and having their senses fouled by strong drink was never wise. Here it might prove quite fatal.
Ethan noticed a mournful whimper coming from behind them near the great stone hearth in the room. A fire burned there, and two hounds sat with eager expressions, looking at Ethan and beyond to his plate. Feeling sorry for the poor animals, forced to watch others stuffing their faces, Ethan snuck a few pieces of the meat from his plate and gave it a quick sideways toss to the dogs. They both snatched it up immediately and licked their chops gratefully.
“Gideon?” Nichols said from the head of the long table. “I wonder when we might retrieve the scrolls you’ve brought for us.”
“Forgive me, Majesty, but I am charged by the High Priest to find someone who is well able to take responsibility for them and disseminate the teachings to the population.”
Nichols seemed taken aback by the declaration. “Are you suggesting, I would be unable to carry out those duties?”
The tension in the room became instantly taut, like an over-wound psaltery string. “I assure you, Your Majesty; I meant no insult to you personally. The Order has always sought out those individuals who are inclined as we priests are. And I did not want to assume that one so busy with a new government, as you are, would take yet another weight upon his shoulders.”
Ethan watched the king’s expression soften a little. He seemed satisfied with Gideon’s placation in the matter. “Nevertheless, we will be glad to have the Word safe within these walls at your earliest opportunity,” King Nichols said. “From there we may work together to find suitable teachers who can devote themselves to diligent study and then teach others as well.”
Gideon wasn’t quite sure how to answer, but managed. “We are very grateful to you, Majesty.”
The king gave a slight nod as he forked a piece of steaming meat from his platter. “Gentlemen,” he said to the priests, “you’ve not yet touched your food. Surely, you’re famished after so long a journey across the Azure. I hope you won’t insult my hospitality.”
“Of course not, Majesty,” Ethan said and began digging into his plate with a fork. Just as he opened his mouth, ready to shove the food inside, Gideon grabbed his wrist.
“The hounds,” he whispered urgently.
Ethan turned from his plate and saw the two hounds he had fed from his plate moments ago. They lay still, their eyes rolled permanently back into their heads. Ethan gasped, realizing he and Gideon would certainly have shared that fate had he not felt sorry for the poor creatures in the first place.
The king, who had been watching them expectantly, said, “Gentlemen, your manners are poor for priests. You’re still not eating.”
They looked at one another, then they made their move.
And the king made his. “Seize them!”
Several astonishing things all happened within seconds.
Gideon leaped up out of his seat and over the table to evade the soldier immediately to his left. He grabbed a silver candlestick holder in midair, brained the man seated across from Ethan, and took his sword as he fell stunned to the stone floor.
Ethan realm shifted immediately and crossed the room, trying to get to King Nichols where he stood, shouting orders for their capture. Ethan, so bent upon his strategy, only half noticed the cold tingly shiver running up his spine. As Ethan reached Nichols, preparing to seize the man as their hostage, a horde of demons flew through the walls of stone block.
The demons saw Ethan, but instead of attacking directly, they entered the soldiers present at the dinner. He knew what that meant. The demons would be able to see him whether he was in the spiritual realm or in the physical.
A demon-laden soldier went for Gideon. He did not seem aware as he was busy fighting other men. Ethan launched forward as though shot from a cannon. He pierced the veil between physical and spiritual and landed next to Gideon in time to hammer his attacker with a kick to the ribs. The soldier flew backward out of the way. “Demons inside the soldiers!” Ethan warned.
Ethan quickly armed himself with the weapon of one of Gideon’s victims and assailed to help his friend. The soldiers took on an almost immediate ferocity, as though animals freed from their cages and set to a feeding frenzy. Ordinary men leaped through the air at the priests of Shaddai as they fought back the tide of the enemy. The bright clothing, fashioned for them, quickly became soaked with gore.
“Hold on!” Ethan shouted. He immediately realm shifted and grabbed hold of Gideon. The priest slashed at his attackers, until Ethan, unseen, yanked him up and out of the melee. He released Gideon. The priest sailed back down to the floor on the other side of the room. Ethan appeared in a run beside him. “This way!”
He ran, with Gideon following, toward the great wooden doors at the far end. Ethan remembered the throne room on the other side of those doors. From there, lay a hall leading out of the castle through the main gate. The demon-possessed soldiers ran after them, much quicker than normal men could. They had mere seconds to get through.
Ethan reached the doors first and tried to push them open, but they would not budge. Through the seam between the two doors, he saw a great wooden crossbeam holding them fast. Gideon also reached the doors and tried, but to no avail. Ethan realm shifted once again and used his sword to divide the beam through the seam—a knife through butter
. He appeared with Gideon again and they pushed their way through.
Once on the other side, Ethan and Gideon struggled to close the great doors again. “We have to bar it!” Gideon said.
“This half of the crossbar is long enough, I think.”
They hoisted it up with difficulty and set it upon the iron grooves where it should rest. The doors tried to burst outward as the demon-possessed soldiers slammed into them from the banquet room. “Get the bar in!” Gideon said.
The doors began to part again as the boys struggled to get the crossbar into place. “There’s too many!”
“I’ll stop them!” Ethan said. “You get the bar into place!” He disappeared into the spiritual realm and shot through the door with his weapon forward. As soon as Ethan cleared the door, he ran into a throng of demon-possessed soldiers. They saw him and reacted, but he had enough surprise on his side to take down a few first.
Ethan fought with unbridled anger and drove them back from the door enough to allow Gideon to secure it from the other side. He heard the crossbar slide into place with a dull thump. Before the possessed soldiers reorganized their attack on him, Ethan launched back through the door and found Gideon waiting.
He patted Ethan’s shoulder with a smile of gratitude as soon as he appeared. “Nice work, brother.”
Gideon began to run for the other end of the throne room. But Ethan hesitated the slightest bit. The acknowledgement gripped his heart. Gideon had never referred to him as brother before. He smiled and followed his friend.
General Hevas Rommil massaged the back of his meaty hand through the studded leather gauntlet. He savored the pain inflicted on some of his former soldiers—men who had failed him today. They had allowed Captain Bonifast to escape from the pirate’s ship still docked in the Macedon harbor. After facing Rommil’s wrath, his soldiers had faced the executioner’s axe.
Rommil peered through a brass spyglass toward King Nichol’s castle, nearly a half mile away, and smiled. He turned to his men lined up along the ridge and the new weapons they were preparing. A line of one hundred short, metal tubes stood propped at an angle on their own stands. A short pile of self-propelled explosive shells stood next to each mortar tube and the two-man team assigned to fire each weapon.