“Many people in the city have been touched by the Gospel story in some way. You cannot live in Grinden and not have heard about our message. Most of these people have already picked sides in this battle for souls. So, we should concentrate the bulk of efforts on those people in the outlying sections of Grinden: the farmers, traders, and workers on the outskirts of the city that have probably been less impacted by the conflict and not yet compelled to make a choice on where they stand.
“It is my advice,” Kevin continued, “to work less on those who oppose us. Let those who have made a choice to serve Lucifer harden their hearts. To try and bring them to a saving knowledge will waste time and energy on a stony heart which will most likely resist and only grind you down. Work more on those who will listen, or those for whom you have a special burden. Respect the choices of those with an opposing spirit, even if that means letting them choose their own destruction; you may even find that this sometimes softens their heart. I do not intend to appear compassionless, but I am thinking of logistics and strategy. I offer advice, but you must each choose how to deal with those you meet and know. Listen to God. He will guide you.
“We must remember to stress the importance of the great commission of Christ, that is, to evangelize every person. Some people may not want to leave this place; they have family and friends here. We can comfort them, but need to encourage them to put those feelings to rest. I knew many people in my past who said they would rather go to Hell where their friends will be than go to Heaven and sing hymns all day. This, of course, reveals that they know nothing about Hell and they certainly know nothing of Heaven.
“This last local outreach will hopefully be what some needed to find Truth. We must mobilize and soon,” Kevin paused as he locked eyes with a figure well beyond his circle of confidants. There, at the camp’s edge, stood the Luciferian combat master, Jandul.
At a nod from the preacher, Jandul silently approached the group, but not without eschewing evidence of his great contempt. The bald, tattooed Luciferian walked right into the leadership circle. Disgust wafted off of him as he stood among so many heretics. He carried a tightly rolled sheet of parchment paper with him.
Jandul tossed the scroll near Kevin’s feet. He scowled, too revolted to move any closer barring offensive maneuvers. “A summons,” he said in a gravelly, threatening voice. “You are required to present yourself before the Steward of Grinden and explain your actions of last night.”
Miklaw chuckled under his breath. “I told you so.”
The Luciferian combat master glared at the old farmer. “You will find an inquiry waiting at the old Grinden Garrison.” With his announcement made and the subpoena delivered, Jandul spun on his heel and quickly departed.
“Should we even honor this demand?” Nipanka asked.
A consensus of voices agreed that they should not.
“I think that we should,” Kevin offered a different viewpoint. “It may show, at least to the undecided folk in the city, that we are not these monsters that the Luciferians claim us to be.
“Plus, I fear that if we disrespect the city officials by not appearing, they might just convict us as guilty by default and send assassins to attack us in our sleep.” Kevin traded a sagacious glance with Rashnir and Zeh-Ahbe’. “We have been lucky until now; this offshoot of the Rashet has acted as a nominal barrier thus far, but it is easy enough to cross. As long as we stayed on our side, we’ve appeared removed enough so as not be perceived a threat.”
“You should not be the one to go, Kevin,” Zeh-Ahbe’ insisted.
Rashnir and Shinna immediately nodded their assent.
“Yes. If you go, they will find some reason to detain or assassinate you,” said Drowdan.
Kevin wanted to argue. Deep down, he knew that they were probably correct. It was not just an overprotective attitude that led the group to this conclusion; it was the only logical inference.
“Then who should go, if not me?”
“Let me go,” said Rashnir. Jibbin gave him a fearful, apprehensive look.
Some of the others nodded and thought it a reasonable choice.
“No,” said Kevin. “It cannot be you, my friend. You already have a bad history with Dyule, the Steward. He would kill you immediately out of mere spite. Still, it should be someone from this council.”
“I volunteer Jorge,” said Kyrius, smiling.
Jorge nodded in silent agreement. He was going to volunteer anyway.
“I will go with him,” Zeh-Ahbe’ said nervously. His kinsmen, Rah’-be and Sil-tarn, appeared uncomfortable with their leader’s volunteerism.
Kevin nodded. “Alright. Be safe, you two. I will fill you in on the plans for the Gleend trip when you return.”
The council of leaders rose and gathered around Jorge and Zeh-Ahbe’ to pray for their safety and guidance. Little Jibbin squeezed in between the legs of the adults. Modeling his actions after his mentors’, Jibbin placed a tiny hand on Zeh-Ahbe’s knee and prayed silently, moving Zeh-Ahbe’ to tears.
***
Jorge and Zeh-Ahbe’ walked through the town. They didn’t know what to expect when they arrived at their destination. Zeh-Ahbe’ had enough knowledge of the town’s layout to know the old garrison’s location.
They made the walk like a couple of condemned men approaching the gallows; people on either side of the streets stopped and stared at them. Clearly, the men, women, and ekthro of Grinden guessed the reason for their route to the garrison; they figured the Christians responded to the summons to answer for their crimes. Some onlookers did more than stop and stare; several followed at a distance, anticipating some kind of entertainment that ended with a gruesome execution at the end.
The two Christians arrived at the building’s front where the doors hung wide open in anticipation. An inquisition awaited them, perfectly arranged for legal proceedings. Within a fraction of a second, Jorge surveyed everything and everyone in the room. Several guards stood posted by each doorway and also inside the building’s large reception lobby. He spotted Dyule sitting in an oversized chair, waiting impatiently. Many mercenaries from the Narsh Barbarian guild stood near the city’s steward.
The barbarians milled about close enough they appeared to be on duty. Jorge assumed they’d been hired on as his personal bodyguards.
Taking his friend by the arm, the angel protectively ushered Zeh-Ahbe’ inside. He whispered into the Christian’s ear as they entered, “At my command, drop to your belly. I will not let anyone harm you, but I will need space to protect you if provoked.”
Zeh-Ahbe’ nodded as they walked in and presented themselves. The duo bowed obligatorily before the Steward of Grinden.
“We are here, Dyule,” Jorge held out the crumpled notice. “For what reasons do you seek our presence?”
“Bah! As if you don’t already know your crimes,” he accused. “Where is your master? Why didn’t the preacher, or that fool Rashnir, come?” His voice carried a clearly irritated tone. Dyule had never disguised his dislike for Rashnir and the Christians. He retained a historically spiteful relationship with Rogis’s protégé. Dyule laid the blame for his father’s murder at Rashnir’s feet—however untrue—and it was more likely his deep rooted vitriol stemmed from Rashnir’s selection as Rogis’s favored heir rather; favoring the bastardized in-law over the direct blood connection that Dyule and the famous Rogis shared had always come with a price. In Dyule’s eyes, all of these heretics shared in Rashnir’s guilt by association.
As Dyule spoke, the mercenaries and guards slowly encircled the room. They’d hung back against the walls as the Christians entered, but crept closer now, as Dyule railed against them and hurled false accusations.
“Call your guards off, Steward,” Jorge commanded in a deep baritone, “or they might lose body parts that they greatly value.”
Dyule gave each side of the room a squinty look from the corner of his eyes. The guards relented, each moving back to his original position.
>
“You are here to answer for crimes committed in the name of your faith. We have already been very lenient with you, but new royal edicts make being a krist-chin a crime on par with treason. You are lucky that the armies of King Rutheir have not already descended upon you and forced conversion or destruction.”
“So we stand accused of treason?” inquired Zeh-Ahbe’.
“No… who are you, one of the heretic’s lackeys?” Dyule spoke down to him.
The former werewolf showed no emotion. His tribe had long languished at the lowest rungs of his culture’s caste system and he knew nonchalance was the best way to get under the skin of a person making such remarks. “My name is Zeh-Ahbe’.”
“Okay, Zeh-Ahbe’. What can you tell me about last night’s revenge party? You krist-chins tortured, killed, and burned down the businesses of several notable Luciferians.”
“There is nothing to tell. We were not involved in any such incident,” Zeh-Ahbe’ stated flatly. “We would defend ourselves if attacked, but we would never torture or murder anyone. Revenge is not our way; vengeance belongs to our Lord.”
“You lie. We know all about your ways! This city is aware of the heresy that you proclaim each and every day. The Luciferians are educating the townsfolk as to what you really stand for and how we can defend ourselves against your tricks.”
“What lie? How can you even know what we believe unless you’ve heard it from us?”
“What? And be caught up in one of your mind tricks? No, the church tells us what we need to hear and what we ought to believe,” he snapped.
Dyule smoothed his ruffled robe and continued. “You lie about vengeance not being your way. One of your notable members is long-known for his actions of revenge. It is all but a proven fact that Rashnir murdered King Harmarty, Rutheir’s predecessor and lover.”
“You can’t—”
“Don’t ever interrupt me. I am not some forgettable, nameless tradesman that you can interject your own words above mine; do it again and I will have you killed.
“Now, as I was saying, your man Rashnir murdered my father to usurp control of the Rangers; before that he murdered my father’s second in command to gain his position. After King Harmarty discovered his treachery, he tried to save the woman he loved from that scheming Ranger. Kelsa died in the flames of an inferno caused in the aftermath and confusion—perhaps they were even lit by Rashnir himself. He did, after all, burn down the houses of all of my family members, killing men, women, and children to try and cover his tracks.”
Zeh-Ahbe’ turned when Dyule had finished ranting.
Jorge shook his head slightly to reaffirm to Zeh-Ahbe’ that the story was a lie.
He asked Jorge, “Hardened heart?”
“Absolutely.” He turned to the steward. “If you have nothing more than the ravings of a paranoid, deceased man which condemn us, we must be going,” Jorge said.
“Yes!” Dyule screamed. “I am officially declaring you, all of you, guilty of this crime—we have the proof of an eyewitness. You razed an entire city block by arson; you murdered six adults, and committed treason! On a side note, I hate you, and all that your faith represents!” Dyule had leapt to his feet, screaming his judgement. His guards rushed towards the two Christian representatives.
“Drop!” Jorge commanded.
Zeh-Ahbe’ fell face down on the floor as Jorge’s bladed flashed into brilliant existence. The angel spun with a broad roundhouse swipe, pivoting on his heel and completing a full circuit. The screams of guards were brief as their bodies fell to the ground, almost two dozen of them, total. Their wounds smoked and smoldered where the righteous flames which enveloped the blade had burned the severed flesh. Lifeless bodies lay next to sundered weapons, which, like their armor, had been easily split by a holy blade which burned sharper than any other thing.
Jorge helped Zeh-Ahbe’ to his feet and made a show of dusting him off while glaring at Dyule. The implication was clear; they would not go willingly and Dyule had thrown away the lives of his hired men because of a temper tantrum.
Dyule sat down. Incensed, he bubbled with anger; a vein above his right eye throbbed to the surface. Only a handful of personal guards protected him now. The royal guards posted outside the court peeked in briefly. They saw the corpses and decided it prudent to remain at their posts.
“This changes nothing, krist-chin,” he spat. “As of now, all krist-chin people are officially banned from this city under penalty of death. Rest assured, the royal military is arriving very soon. Your display proves nothing.
“Your shanty settlement lies within Grinden’s city limits. Remove it immediately—anything left this evening will be burned. Wherever you go, keep well away from Grinden. While I can only make this local ordinance, King Rutheir will soon make this proscription countrywide.
“Stay out of my city,” Dyule warned with the spite of a personal vendetta.
Jorge’s flaming blade evaporated within his hand. He and Zeh-Ahbe’ turned and left, going by the straightest possible route back to their encampment.
As soon as they’d gone, the steward stooped over the broken blades of his fallen guards and examined their fire-rent armor. He picked up a severed blade and the metal hissed and burned his fingers.
Dyule’s Luciferian liaison entered the room; he’d observed the situation from a safe position behind an office door. He joined the Steward and examined the perfectly cleaved blade. Some opposing magic had cleanly cut right through the blade’s forte, the strongest part.
As he contemplated the significance of his discovery, Dyule furrowed his brows in consternation. How could they hope to overcome a foe whose very weapons destroyed their own?
***
Jorge and Zeh-Ahbe’ crossed over the creek that formed their perimeter. They found a group of people praying for their safety and who were obviously relieved to see them unharmed. Zeh-Ahbe’s clan seemed especially relieved, knowing that their leader, like the rest of them, had sacrificed his shapeshifting powers and abilities in order to be counted amongst the Christian people. They now relied on others to protect them and to provide them with access to the Word.
The angel and his friend immediately located Kevin to tell him the verdict and what had transpired in the city. They found him in a prayer group with others. Jorge whispered in his ear, “I think that you had better call a meeting.”
Kevin quickly sent out runners to retrieve his leaders and the entire council quickly assembled in their regular spot even as the light wisps of smoke from last night’s blaze still clawed desperately for altitude above the Grinden skyline.
Jorge let Zeh-Ahbe’ brief the council on the recent events in Grinden. “We are officially labeled criminals, at least within the city’s borders. The local ordinance will soon become a broader law—once Rutheir puts the remaining pieces in motion. The Steward demanded that we move further away or else they will burn the campground down with as many in it as they can catch.”
“For now, we can only do as they request,” Kevin advised. He fell into deep thought as Jorge gave his account. Kevin mentally compared and contrasted a variety of options and their possible outcomes, only to arrive at obeying the madman’s request.
“We are on the verge of our last evangelistic push in this area. We know that we will encounter resistance at every turn, and it will only get worse from here on out. The majority of work that we’ve done here since that first outreach is based in education and discipleship. I have been trying to lay a firm foundation for those hard times that will come, times when we will need proper discipleship to continue the great commission. Resistance is expected. This entire place is opposed to the message of Christ.”
The preacher paused for a moment in thought.
“We must not leave before our work is finished. I can think of several Christians who have been imploring certain loved ones; they expect to see some of them respond and join us after the next outreach. We will not abandon them. But we
will need to move our camp. We can move to the southwest. There,” Kevin pointed beyond the edge of his opened tent flaps, “just across the banks of the Rashet River is a patch of flatland surrounded by wooded sloughs.
“If we move there, we might be enough away from the city. It is only a short distance, but it might be a day or two before Dyule’s men discover our new position, unless they follow us, which they probably will. But they are not our concern.
“We must entirely relocate soon, and we must be extremely careful. Very few, if any, should travel into the city from here on out.”
Nipanka looked disheartened at the comment, but knew that it was the only logical way to proceed. He had enthusiastically lead many outreach parties into Grinden under Kevin’s tutelage.
“Is there any person here with any thoughts or suggestions on this matter?”
Nobody dissented, however, and several of them nodded their heads in agreement with Kevin’s decision. The new location would have access to water, was not far removed from the roadways, and they were close to the protection offered by the large Quey Forest, only a little further west, to have a buffer on at least on side.
“I have one additional suggestion,” Jorge said.
Kevin nodded his head to continue.
“I think that we need to train all believers how to defend themselves, should it be required of them. The last several encounters with Luciferians have resulted in physical violence. Clearly their intent is to kill us.”
Rashnir nodded in agreement. “It would be foolish not to, Kevin,” the ranger agreed.
Kevin nodded his head. “I fear that you are both right in this matter. I have taken great pains to prepare all of the Christians here for the situations that might come up in evangelistic efforts, but I have done nothing to show them how to survive in the face of an enemy bent on destroying them.
The Kakos Realm Collection Page 33