The Prophet: Death: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

  Brinson looked over to him, recognized him, and then stood up.

  “We give thanks,” she said, her eyes glancing to the floor.

  “We give thanks,” the First Priest repeated, his own eyes looking to the wall. “What are you watching?”

  He didn’t need an answer, though. It was obvious.

  She was looking at videos taught to the young. These were older versions, lacking new voiceovers and different scenes. They were most likely the videos shown to her when she was young. The First Priest vaguely remembered some of the titles, Corinth’s Love, Corinth’s War, Corinth’s Valor—all of them simple things without any nuance to them.

  The First Priest turned fully toward the wall.

  Louder, he told his nanotech.

  A male voice filled the room. “The rest of the world consisted of 92 countries, all of them uniting against Corinth. Our savior was still just a young man, and not yet aware—”

  Turn it down.

  The male voice died, but the First Priest kept looking at the wall. “Why are you watching these, Sister?”

  “It’s good to be reminded, your Holiness,” Brinson said.

  And did she sound different?

  Yes, the First Priest thought. Yes, I believe she does.

  For the last two weeks—and didn’t they feel like years?—Brinson had been almost disobedient in her obstinacy. Yet now, she sounded positively acquiescent. She sounded like the woman who first ventured into the Council’s chambers, barely able to form a sentence.

  “Yes,” the First said, turning away from the wall and looking at Brinson. “Yes, I suppose it is. I came to tell you something, and I imagine you will find it happy news, given the treachery Manor Reinheld performed against you and Corinth. Against the entire True Faith. His execution has been set for three days from now.”

  Brinson nodded but said nothing. Her face showed no emotion, certainly not the sadness the First Priest had hoped for.

  “Given the gravity of his crimes, we’re going to use ancient methods. The kind Corinth once used. He’ll be tossed from the top of the Shrine so that all can watch his fall.”

  “That is fitting, your Holiness,” Brinson said. “It’s a wise choice.”

  Her voice held none of the disrespect he’d sensed before. If he hadn’t seen the woman change over the past two weeks, he would have actually believed her sincerity.

  You don’t? he asked himself. What else could she be doing? It’s not like you’re dealing with a mastermind here.

  The First Priest looked at her for a few more seconds, considering. “Will you be in attendance?”

  “If it pleases the Council, I will be.”

  “I, unfortunately, won’t be able to attend, but I do think it will show your commitment to Corinth and the True Faith to be there. It would put many on the Council at ease, I’m sure. I don’t need to tell you how shocked we all were … at the way things turned out with you and he.”

  “No, your Holiness. I’m shocked too … still, I think. I’ll certainly be at the execution. Thank you for telling me personally, my First Priest.”

  He nodded, not liking this conversation one bit, but unable to do anything about it. He’d wanted a respite from the pressures mounting outside this room. He’d hoped coming here would hurt the woman some, and he could … feed? Yes, that word worked as well any other. The First Priest held no illusions about what he was doing. He wanted to feed off of her suffering, and then return to his duties. It was the suffering of the wicked, so what did it matter?

  Yet, she appeared to not be suffering at all. To actually be pleased with the First’s announcement.

  One more nod, and then the First Priest turned from the room.

  He would film the execution. Perhaps she would express her feelings there and he could watch it later.

  The Pope didn’t know what to expect with this next meeting. It was completely unheard of, but … Well, he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he thought it was a good sign. He hoped … that maybe his prayers were being answered. Yule hadn’t heard from Daniel Sesam since their last meeting, but he knew the man would return. Daniel was as persistent as the Devil when it came to his daughter, but Yule still had nothing positive to tell him.

  He hoped—though hesitantly—that this meeting might give him something useful, something he could in turn give Daniel.

  The First Priest had called the meeting; the High Priest would not be in attendance.

  Yule didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he knew how his encounters with the High Priest had gone, and was hopeful that others may have had similar experiences. Perhaps the True Faith wasn’t completely a cult of personality, and that someone further down the ranks recognized the danger the man posed.

  Yule sat in front of the tarp, the lighting dimmed in his office. A few more minutes passed, then three faces filled the screen. Yule knew two of them. The First Priest was the stranger, though his lack of hair gave him an eerie resemblance to the High Priest. His face wasn’t as flabby and he lacked the thousand yard stare the High Priest possessed, but all the other True Faith trappings were present.

  The Pope could see nothing around the First Priest, only a white background.

  “We give thanks,” the First Priest said, his voice strong and his eyes lowering for a second before looking back up. “Thank you all for agreeing to meet with me. I’m sorry that it’s under circumstances less than ideal, and I’m sorry that the True Faith’s High Priest can’t be in attendance … However, that is why I called this meeting.”

  He paused, giving the others a chance to talk, but everyone was silent.

  Yule thought he saw hesitancy in the man—the First Priest having expected the three of them to say something, but now feeling the weight of their offices with their silence. Inside the True Faith, he might be something important, but in the rest of the world, he wasn’t even a thought.

  “I would not be coming to you if this wasn’t the gravest of problems the True Faith faces, as well as your own Ministries.”

  “Get on with it,” the Constant’s Most Revered Representative, Benten, said.

  Yule watched silently and saw a flare of indignation shoot across the First Priest’s face, though it died quickly.

  “Our High Priest is not mentally fit to remain in power,” he said.

  “What’s that got to do with us?” Benten continued.

  The sharks are here, Yule thought. A lesser representative, and they’re going to eat him alive.

  “I’m unsure what you all are aware of,” the First said, “but the High Priest has a young lady from the Old World in his possession. This young lady … she has the same powers as the weapon, and the High Priest is creating an untenable situation.”

  “What is it?” Trinant One asked.

  “He’s building something that will supposedly allow the Black to see her. A beacon. He wants to connect the Black to her.”

  A deep hush fell over the other three, their sharp teeth no longer trying to snap at the First Priest—his news causing everyone to overlook his lesser status.

  “What will happen to the girl?” Yule asked, his mind automatically channeling what would be Daniel’s first question.

  “That’s what worries us,” the First Priest said. “We believe that if the young lady is put in such a situation, in front of the Black, that the power she wields will … become unmanageable. By her. By us. By anything. We’re afraid that she might wipe out large portions of the Earth’s population.”

  “Yule, this is your woman? The one the High was talking about before?” Trinant asked him.

  The Pope nodded.

  “How did he get her?” Benten said, though whether his question was aimed at the First Priest or the Pope, Yule couldn’t tell.

  “We believe he sent someone to the Old World to capture her,” Yule said. “We’ve been trying to locate her ever since.” He turned his attention to the First Priest. “Is it possible, what you’re saying he is attempting to
do? Can he actually connect her?”

  “Yes, it’s possible, though we don’t believe that’s the greatest threat—”

  “The Black connecting with another weapon isn’t the greatest threat?” Trinant interrupted.

  The First Priest was quiet for a second—Yule thought him barely holding onto his composure.

  “We believe that the Black already knows of her existence. The real threat is what she will do if forced in front of the Black. What happens might not even be within her control. She might simply react.”

  “Where is the High Priest?” Yule asked.

  The First paused for a second, and Yule knew why. Out of everyone here, only the two of them knew the High’s location—and it wasn’t somewhere he should be.

  “The One Path Ministry.”

  “What?” Trinant asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s true,” Yule said.

  Trinant was silent for a second, her lips thin, but understanding spreading across her face. The final battle with the weapon had occurred within her Ministry, yet she hadn’t been there. Yule didn’t know where she’d been, but when the weapon arrived within her purview, others fought the battle for her. She hadn’t even asked questions when it happened, only done the same as the rest of them—started the task of rebuilding her Ministry. The weapon was dead and people were suffering; that’s where her attention was focused; perhaps one day she would have gotten around to asking questions about what actually happened.

  Perhaps one day, but Yule saw that she hadn’t thought today would be that day.

  “How long?”

  It was the only question she could manage to get out.

  “We’re not sure,” the First Priest said. “We weren’t aware until last week.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m sending his coordinates now.”

  Numbers ran over the top right of the screen. Yule glanced at them, but then turned back to Trinant. Her next thoughts would be crucial here. The threat the First Priest spoke of was real, he had no doubt about that, and everyone here was concerned primarily with eliminating it. Yule had to be concerned with that and also with ensuring Nicki’s safety. The One Path’s Minister most likely wouldn’t have the same objectives.

  “We’re going to send our Lawmen to get him,” she said.

  “Hold on, hold on,” Yule said. “Let’s discuss this a bit more; it’s not as simple as arresting someone who immigrated illegally. There’s a lot more to consider here.”

  “Like what?”

  “For one, what the First Priest just told us. We need to understand how close the High Priest is to achieving this goal. If he sees you coming, will he turn this device on? What about the girl? What happens to her when you get her? Of course, the Old World wants her back, and I want to make sure that her safety is second only to—”

  “Enough,” Trinant said. “We’re going to arrest him, and then we’ll determine the rest.”

  “I agree with the Pope,” Benten said. “We shouldn’t rush this. There’s too much at stake.”

  The First Priest was silent during all of this, but Yule finally looked to him. “How close is he to accomplishing this?”

  “We’re not completely sure,” the First Priest said. “There are certain … political situations that keep us from knowing for certain. We believe he’s getting closer, though.”

  “None of this matters. He’s within the One Path’s territory, and that means we decide when to act.”

  “It’s bigger than you, Trinant,” Benten said.

  “First Priest,” Yule said, trying to ignore the argument and territorial pronouncements by Trinant, “do you have some kind of plan for dealing with your High Priest?”

  “Yes, we have some ideas, though I’m not sure how appealing they will be given the current conversation.”

  “Let’s hear them,” Yule said.

  “I’m the only person who has seen the High Priest in years, outside of the people he’s called to build this new machine. The protocol for speaking with him uses nanotechnology, so there is never any reason that anyone should venture to see him. I think that I might be able to set up a meeting with him however, where I actually visit him. Using that as a cover, we believe that’s the best way to disarm him.”

  “And then what? What’s your plan once you’re there?” Benten asked.

  “That’s why I’ve come to you four. Once I’m inside, we’ll need help in order to disarm both his creation, as well as him.”

  Yule didn’t like that, as well as him. “What do you mean, disarming him? He’s an old man, how much help would you need?”

  “The High Priest has certain acolytes at his disposal. We’ve received reports that he’s been calling them to him.”

  “How many?” Trinant asked.

  “Almost all of them, we think.”

  Twelve

  “How close are we to completion?” the High Priest asked.

  The person in front of the High Priest looked closer to a boy than a man, though the High Priest wasn’t watching him. The High had seen him when he entered, but then turned back around to stare at his wall.

  “We’re 80% of the way done, Most Holy,” the man said.

  “How much longer?”

  “Maybe two days, Most Holy.”

  “Is it going to work?” the High Priest asked.

  “There isn’t …,” the man trailed off, the High Priest supposing he was ensuring the accuracy of his words. “Given the parameters of what is being asked, Most Holy, I believe it should work. I must say, though, that there isn’t actually any method in which we can test it. We could turn it on and simply nothing happens.”

  The High Priest thought about asking them how they had done it, but decided he didn’t care. He’d told them their objective, and however they did it was their business. It’s not like he would understand the technicalities anyway.

  He remained still, the man standing behind him. Neither spoke for a time, and then the High Priest finally said, “How are the barracks beneath us coming along? Are the beds set up?”

  “They’re completed, Most Holy.”

  “And our guests, are they having any trouble arriving?”

  “Not so far, your Holiness. No transports have been intercepted.”

  “That’s good,” the High Priest said. “ … That’s good.”

  Another five minutes passed in silence. The High Priest heard slight movements behind him, though the man made no effort to actually leave the room.

  Some decision made inside his mind, the High Priest said, “You can go.”

  “Thank you, Most Holy.”

  The man fled the room, leaving the High Priest alone. He continued sitting for a time. He had called the Disciples to him, basing that decision more off instinct than anything else, but the High Priest now knew his instinct had been correct.

  A message had been sent from his home to the First Council. A message not sent by him.

  The High Priest was alerted to this message a few hours earlier. He’d already played it once, but sitting here alone, his eyes shot it out again.

  He listened to the young man’s words, explaining his fear of what was happening—how their work here went against Corinth’s Proclamations. The young man acted as if he was serving Corinth, while the High Priest wasn’t, and certainly everyone who received such a message would be more than concerned.

  Yet, the First Priest hadn’t contacted the High. No one in the First Council had. The High Priest didn’t know what that meant, but additional messages had come and gone from within his home since. Messages not sent by him, nor directed to him. They all circled in on the young man, though they were heavily encrypted. The High Priest couldn’t understand them, but … he didn’t really need to. His assumptions had been right. Corinth had been right.

  They were coming for him.

  Which meant they were coming for Corinth’s grand plan.

  Bring me the young man, the High Priest commanded through
his nanotech.

  Minutes passed and the High Priest sat alone in silence. His thoughts of Nicki Sesam didn’t prevail upon his mind as they had when first arriving here, and he hated that it was so. He hated that people were pulling him away from her, situations demanding his attention elsewhere.

  The door to his room opened and the young man walked in.

  The High Priest slowly turned around. He saw someone nervous standing in front of him, perhaps bordering on panic. A Disciple stood behind him, just inside the door.

  “What is your name?” the High Priest asked.

  “Wilyan Vissel, your Holiness.”

  “So you do know who I am,” the High Priest said.

  The young man clearly didn’t know how to respond.

  “I wasn’t sure you did, given what you’ve been doing.”

  Wilyan Vissel’s mouth dropped open; it looked like he was trying to talk, continuing to open and close his mouth, though no words came out.

  “There is no sense in lying. It will only waste time and that is something I don’t want to do right now. I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer them truthfully. Do you understand?”

  Wilyan didn’t move at all—even his mouth froze. The High Priest didn’t really need anything from the young man. The Disciple behind him would find out the truth if he lied here.

  “What did the messages that were sent back to you say?”

  “I … I …,” and then finally, “What messages?”

  The High Priest stared on silently, seconds turning into minutes. Wilyan Vissel looked like he might attempt fleeing, but he managed to remain still, though he had to shove his hands into his pockets.

  “I will give you one more chance to answer me, Wilyan. What did the messages say?”

  He swallowed and his eyes broke from the High Priest, looking to the window on his right. Perhaps he was thinking he should fling himself out of it; the High Priest wasn’t concerned, the Disciple behind him would make sure it didn’t happen.

  Wilyan looked back to the Priest. Tears were in his eyes now, brimming just behind his eyelids. “They asked me about the woman that’s here. They asked me about what we’re building.”