by James Somers
“Excuse me?” Ezekiah replied. “What do you mean?”
I leaned against the wall next to the controls where he was standing looking forward out over the bridge and the surrounding sea.
“I meant Elithias. Why did he wait for over an hour before letting us pass beyond the waves?”
Ezekiah considered the question a moment before answering. “Gwen, would the miracle seem as potent if we had come to a calm sea rather than watching the sea bar our way for over an hour?”
I smiled. “I suppose not. We would have all dismissed the matter without a thought of Elithias intervening at all.”
“That’s right,” he said. “Therefore, Elithias may act at any time he pleases, but it pleases him to do so in a way that will increase our faith in him.”
I smiled at him then felt my cheeks flushing. I hoped it wasn’t visible in the predawn light.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I offered, wanting to broach the subject of our kiss.
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
I was blushing again. “When I pulled you into the train,” I said, stumbling over the words. “I shouldn’t have been so forward after.”
Understanding dawned upon his face. “Oh, well, you did nothing wrong,” he said. “If anyone was in the wrong it was me.”
I said nothing. In my mind I was screaming, wanting to tell him that I had wanted to kiss him; that nothing up to that moment had made me so happy.
“However, if you’ll pardon my saying so, I was very glad for your forwardness,” he said.
I wondered if he might now be blushing. I hoped. There was so much I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. So, I simply smiled at him, looking into his eyes. I could have lost myself there, but the spell was broken.
“Look at those lights on the horizon!” Tobias shouted from the back of the cab.
I hadn’t even noticed him waking. We looked out the forward window and found the lights easily. They looked more like stars than lamps, since they didn’t flicker like firelight.
“Could it be?” Ezekiah asked. “They might be electric lights, burning wire filaments!”
As we watched, the dawning of the sun saw all the lights wink out. However, a city came into view and the land stretching away to either side of it. Our rail bridge ran right into the middle of it all.
Ezekiah smiled broadly. “I believe we have found Haven.”
The sun was fully up by the time we reached the mainland. However, a barrier had been built across the entrance to the bridge, forcing us to stop the train on our side. Each of us gathered up our provisions and exited. Varen and Jillian remained wary of the rest of the group, but they didn’t appear to be in any hurry for a fight, so I relaxed my guard a bit. Like it or not, we were all in this situation together.
When we gathered before the barrier, all eyes fell upon Ezekiah. The prophet was busy surveying the barrier when someone commanded us to halt. We located a small window where a man stood aiming a gun at Ezekiah. Immediately, I rushed toward him, wanting to keep him from danger. But Ezekiah warned me to stop.
From here, the man looked nervous. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting a locomotive to come barreling down these tracks toward his outpost. Tobias was standing just behind me. His pistol was drawn with the barrel peeking around my right arm.
“If you see him start to shoot, tell me,” he said.
I was alarmed at having to stay back, but I knew from experience that Tobias was a good shot. “All right,” I whispered, watching the soldier ahead through the gifts. If his finger twitched on the trigger, I would alert Tobias to kill the man before he could harm Ezekiah.
Whether Ezekiah heard us, or not, I can’t be sure. But he began walking toward the outpost, putting himself in Tobias’s line of fire. The boy tried several new angles, but it was no use.
“I can’t see him well enough now,” Tobias complained.
Meanwhile, Ezekiah was walking and talking to the guard with his hands in the air, attempting to soothe the soldier, but the man would have none of it.
“I said, stay right where you are, or I will fire,” he repeated.
Ezekiah got the point and remained where he was. The soldier took the opportunity to speak into a little box he held near his face. Beyond the barrier, over the next few minutes, I saw more soldiers arriving on horseback. Each was well armed and wore a uniform of deep blue with a matching cap that drooped slightly over their left ears.
The soldiers filed through the one door in the outpost barrier and took up flanking positions with their rifles trained on each of our party.
“Would you please tell me if we have arrived at Haven?” Ezekiah asked. A half minute’s pause. “May I please speak with whoever is in charge?”
One of the soldiers finally answered. “You have, and the prince is on his way,” was all that was said.
None of us had any idea what Haven was, or why Ezekiah had brought us here. Even the prophet, himself, had nothing but a name and the inner drawing he felt from Elithias to go on. We had escaped the perils of the world we knew, at least for the time being, but we had no idea what dangers lay in wait for us here.
Marco looked out over the city of Haven from the tall window in his private chambers. The city squatted here overlooking the bay; the short stature of most of its buildings meant to weather severe storms that sometimes buffeted the coast of their land. In the distance, a steam stack rose above the tree line, identifying the city’s coal plant which provided all of the electricity they could ever need.
He watched as the city began to wake from sleep. Haven was his pride and joy. He had put so much work into making it a jewel. Marco had been the proponent of the salvage efforts that long ago brought them the use of so many old world technologies. And why not use them? The ruins were vast mines of information and mechanical inspiration.
Marco breathed in the cool, conditioned air. Another of his salvage efforts put to particular use in the palace. He opened his eyes and smiled. Soon, this would all be his to do with as he pleased.
A knock came at the door.
“What is it?” he asked.
The door opened, revealing his personal secretary.
“Yes, James?”
“Begging your pardon, my prince, but I’ve just received a report from the bridge outpost.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“A locomotive has arrived from beyond the fog.”
“Who was onboard?” Marco asked.
“Four men, three women and one boy,” James replied. “And one of them mentioned being a prophet.”
Marco stared into space for a moment. “Does my father know this?”
“Not to my knowledge, my prince.”
“Send my carriage for them,” he said. “Bring them directly to me.”
General Thurl’s boots pounded the marble floor of the palace’s east wing hallway. Two guards saluted the rugged old soldier as he passed. Thurl had seen his share of action: from the battles against the feral clans, to the rebuilding of Haven, even the political campaigns trying to undermine the authority of his king, but he had never expected this to happen.
Two more guards stood outside the king’s bedchamber. When they saw Thurl coming down the corridor, they snapped to attention. He was well liked by his men, but he did not have patience with fools.
Normally, any visitors to the king had to be announced. That is, any visitors other than General Thurl. Both men had grown up together. Thurl had supported Riven’s bid for the throne wholeheartedly; a decision he had never regretted.
The guard on his right opened the door. He walked inside, and the door closed again. Riven’s personal bodyguard and his royal physician were already in the room. They were both the best at what they did. Thurl had handpicked them himself.
With Riven’s obstinate son pining for his father’s throne, it paid to be careful. As things stood presently, Riven’s life was tied to his own and vice versa. Marco would have him removed as soon as his f
ather passed.
The king looked up from his sickbed, noticing his old friend immediately. “You look concerned, Thurl,” Riven said. “What’s the matter?”
Thurl glanced at the two men in the room with them before continuing. “There is a situation at the bridge, Riven.”
The king’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “Really? What sort of situation?”
“A locomotive has come through the fog to us, bearing four men, three women and a boy,” Thurl reported.
“I see,” Riven said. “And who else knows of this development?”
Thurl sighed. “I’m quite certain Marco knows of it.”
The king remained silent for a moment. The two friends exchanged a great deal of information by expression alone.
“General,” Riven only ever addressed Thurl by title when they were before witnesses and he wanted his decree to be taken as official, “see to it that these visitors are brought to me first.”
“At once, my king.”
Thurl turned on his heels, catching the doctor’s look of awe before leaving the room. Some people in Haven knew enough to be in awe of this development. Others remained oblivious, and still others would be scornful. Thurl was one who was unsure what to make of it. However, he knew enough to say that danger was on the horizon.
ESCORTS
A horseless carriage arrived within twenty minutes of our detention at the rail bridge outpost. I had seen similar mechanisms within the ancient ruins. Those specimens had been nearly dissolved with rust. This vehicle, however, was sparkling clean, painted with silver paint and buffed to a high shine.
The driver of the carriage sat upon a bench at the front using a small wheel presumably like a ship’s rudder to steer the contraption. Behind, the bulkier portion of the carriage was enclosed with curtained windows, and a man was seated inside. The large wheels slowed and the carriage came to a standstill before the bridge outpost.
The driver climbed out of his seat, attempting to open the door for the man inside, but the man rushed out of the vehicle first. “My name is James,” he said. “Our prince has sent me to personally escort you to him.”
“I’m Ezekiah, a prophet of Elithias,” he replied. “Who is your prince, and does he serve the Serpent Kings?”
The man began to usher our group toward the carriage. “Please, there is no time for delay. Our prince wishes to speak with you immediately.”
We took our cues and started into the carriage. However, as James was about to enter, one of the soldiers stopped him. He was holding one of the little black boxes I had seen earlier. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” he said into the box. It squawked once and became silent.
“What is the meaning of this,” James complained. “I have orders from Marco himself!”
“And I have orders from the king,” the soldier replied.
The driver and James were forced to remain at the outpost, while the soldier with the little talk-box took over driving the carriage. As we pulled away, unsure of the politics taking place, I noticed how furious this James person was. The last I saw of him, he was talking urgently into his own little talk-box.
Marco walked quickly down the hall toward his father’s bed chamber. According to James, his rival, Thurl, had somehow managed to get to his father with information about the arrival of the strangers in Haven. He would no doubt seek to poison his father against him in some attempt to take power when his father passed on.
Their fervor for religious antiquity and legend made him sick. Haven was a progressive society. There was no time for indulging the superstitions of a few hold outs to forward thinking. Marco would not allow his city to be taken over by zealots; not when he was so close to ridding them of the old ways for good.
The two guards at the entrance of the corridor acknowledged him respectfully, bowing as he passed, not daring to make any attempt to stop him. The guards at the door, though wary of his appearance, allowed him to go in. His father’s physician was present in the bed chamber, as well as the king’s bodyguard.
His father looked up as Marco stepped inside.
“Father, how are you feeling?” he said.
The king pushed himself up in the bed a little. “I’m fine, Marco, but I know of the strangers in our midst. Despite the objections I know you will have, we must know if this is the man we’ve been waiting for.”
“The man you’ve been waiting for, Father,” Marco replied coldly. “I, on the other hand, have been busy making Haven the greatest city ever.”
The king prepared for an argument with his son; they had enjoyed many on this same topic. However, Marco surprised him. “I’m only here to see how you’re feeling, Father. I’ve other duties to attend to, so I will leave you to your business with these people.”
The king and his physician exchanged a puzzled glance. Marco also exchanged an almost imperceptible glance with the king’s bodyguard. Then, he turned and opened the door to leave.
“Come and see me after I’ve spoken to them, my son,” the king said.
Marco paused, glancing over his shoulder. “As you wish, Father.” He closed the door behind him.
We had an uncomfortable ride as the carriage bore us through the streets of Haven. The vehicle was luxurious, but the company was a bit too close for comfort. Ezekiah, Andrea and Tobias sat on one side with me, while Varen, Jillian, Donavan and Arthur sat on the other.
“How long are we going to go along with all of this?” Varen asked. “For all we know, they mean to execute us.”
“I don’t believe that,” Ezekiah said. “However, I think the political climate may be a bit more complex than we would hope for.”
“The king and prince in conflict with one another over us,” I said. “That can’t bode well.”
“And us in the middle of it,” Varen said.
“If one of them wants us here, the other might mean to be rid of us,” Jillian said.
“Let’s at least hear out the king,” Ezekiah suggested. “If we have to take drastic steps beyond that then so be it.”
“Are you giving the orders now?” Varen asked.
“Unless you would rather.” Ezekiah offered.
Varen sat there for a moment, considering the offer. “You would follow me?” he asked Ezekiah.
“I would if it is the will of Elithias,” he replied.
Varen looked at each of us before answering. “For now, I will give you the benefit of the doubt and defer, Ezekiah. You have led us here, and we’re still alive. If the situation changes, I may also change my mind.”
Ezekiah smiled. “Fair enough.”
The carriage pulled up to the largest building we had seen thus far in Haven. The driver stopped the vehicle next to a line of soldiers waiting to receive us. A man of apparently high rank stepped away from the others, opening the carriage door.
We stepped out, allowing Ezekiah to present himself before the soldier. He looked wary of us, but didn’t appear to be hostile. Still, I was ready with a blade from the small of my back if need be. I wasn’t going to take any chances with Ezekiah’s safety.
“Welcome,” he said, “My name is Thurl. I am the General of Armed Forces under King Riven of Haven.”
“My name is Ezekiah, a prophet of our Lord Elithias. I am curious to know if your King Riven worships the Serpent Kings.”
Thurl smiled gently. “Our only knowledge of any such creatures is by the old manuscripts found long ago in the ancient temple. However, I can affirm not only Riven’s faith in Elithias, but also my own.”
Ezekiah extended an eager hand. Thurl took it. From this point on, one might have supposed the two men to be the best of friends.
Ezekiah introduced each of our party in turn, including Varen and Jillian without the slightest hint of our strained relationship. Thurl then led us into the palace. Some of his soldiers accompanied us, though they kept their weapons holstered. The rest remained outside.
“Thurl,” Ezekiah asked as we walked, “We were curious about the sudden change i
n our escort back at the bridge.”
Thurl glanced over at him. “I can understand why you might be apprehensive about that. It’s a bit complicated and is really a matter best discussed with King Riven, if you don’t mind.”
Ezekiah grinned. “Certainly.”
The royal palace was a large, elegant place, but there didn’t appear to be a great many people dwelling in it. We passed very few servants on our way. This was definitely different than my days living within Belial’s palace in Babale. Our halls had always been full of young women learning the ways of the priestesses, and the Elder Mothers who taught us the deadly techniques of the wraith dancers.
As we walked with Thurl, a servant ran toward us. My hand trembled, wanting a weapon in it, but this was no attack.
“General Thurl!” the man cried. “Come quickly! The king is dying!”
The servant turned and ran back the way he came, as we took up pursuit behind the general. When we arrived at the king’s bedchamber, the door was standing open with several anxious guards loitering around, having no idea what they should do to help. Inside, a physician worked feverishly to save the man’s life.
We stood without, among the guards, while Thurl and Ezekiah rushed in. They stood at the end of the king’s bed, unsure what could be done. “What’s happened?” Thurl demanded.
“I’m not sure. He may have been poisoned," the physician said.
The physician mixed medicines within syringes, injecting them, but with little effect. The king was sweating profusely, and his skin had a greenish pallor. He was struggling to speak. “Thurl?”
“I’m here, Riven,” Thurl said, kneeling at the king’s side at his bed. “What happened?”
But King Riven did not appear to have heard him. He continued on as he gazed upon Ezekiah standing at the end of the bed. “Is this the prophet?” Riven begged.
“He is a prophet, but I do not know if he is the prophet you’ve been waiting for,” Thurl reported.
“Prophet of Elithias,” Riven said, “you must go within the temple.”