The Wars Within (Servant of Light Book 1)

by Jeremy Finn

  He shuffled over to the sliding glass door separating the porch from the interior of the apartment and pushed it open. James walked into the bathroom and brushed his teeth after taking a long look into his tired, bloodshot eyes in the reflection of the mirror. Once he had turned off all the lights and set the alarm for 5:30 a.m., he slipped into his bed and waited for sleep to take him into a brief respite from the demanding world around him.

  A soft knock at the door startled James and made him a bit perturbed. He looked at the alarm clock and realized he had just drifted into sleep. It was only five minutes since he went to bed.

  “Just a minute!” He hollered with a hint of frustration.

  As James reached the door and slowly opened it, he shielded his eyes from the light that flooded in from the hallway. A man stood in front of his door with an awkward smile, shifting his weight from foot to foot and appearing hesitant.

  “Ah, sorry James,” the man began, “I really didn’t mean to wake you up, it’s just that…”

  “Oh don’t be ridiculous, Joe! It’s only twelve midnight! I couldn’t sleep anyways,” James lied sarcastically, “come on in and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Joe Senagi was the closest thing James had to a friend since arriving in the country. Though he was a native, born here in Haniang, the capital of the country of Shinla, he spent a good portion of his childhood a day’s drive away from where James grew up. He was also a Skyline Industries employee, or at least would be until Monday morning when his resignation took effect. James wasn’t sure why Joe was leaving the company. He worked as an interpreter for members of the production team who didn’t speak the native language, like James. Maybe the stress of the job had gotten to him and he needed something a little less demanding. Whatever the reason, it was a shame, since Joe was an excellent employee and the only co-worker James really related to comfortably.

  “Let me get you a drink,” James offered. “I have sodas, water and this stuff I picked up at the Lozogn Market today. I can’t read the label, but it looks like it has persimmon and honey in it.”

  “Yeah,” Joe replied, “it’s goyza. My mom used to drink it when we were back in your country. She said it reminded her of home. It has spices in it too, like cinnamon, ginseng, and cloves. I’ll take one of those, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” James remarked as he tossed the can to Joe. “How did your mom get a hold of this stuff? I’ve never seen it back where we’re from.”

  “You just have to know where to look,” Joe said. “They sell it in some specialty stores.”

  “You know,” James commented, “I never did ask you why you spent so much time back there. Was it for the education?”

  “No,” Joe explained, “though that didn’t hurt. My dad had a job working with an international branch of his company over there. He started off by himself, but when he was offered a promotion if he would stay, he decided to bring my mom and I over to live with him.”

  “I see,” James acknowledged. “So, what’s going on? Is work keeping you awake? I mean, it shouldn’t since you are leaving in two days anyways.”

  “Oh yeah, no, I mean, I’m sorry,” Joe apologized. “Work doesn’t have anything to do with it. To be completely honest, I came up here because, well, it’s kind of hard to say.”

  “What do you mean?” James questioned after an uncomfortable silence. “It seems like something important to you, so you might as well tell me.”

  “Yeah,” Joe hesitated, “well it’s not that important. It’s just that I was reading in bed when suddenly I felt this incredible feeling of concern for you, like something was wrong. I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, like a premonition?” James asked.

  Joe rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and mumbled, “Well, I guess. It was more like you were in some kind of danger and something was telling me to do something about it immediately. I guess that’s why I came up here, actually. I just wanted to be sure I was wrong, you know, that nothing had happened to you.”

  For an instant, James felt cold inside. Was it just a coincidence that Joe had this premonition at about the same time he experienced that weird rush of fear? James pondered whether or not he should tell Joe about this. No, he did not quite feel that comfortable with Joe yet, and Joe might start to question his sanity if he brought that up. Then again, Joe’s sanity could be questioned just as easily.

  “No, no,” James assured, “nothing happened. It’s just another dull night at home for me. We don’t have time to do anything social when we’re getting out of work so late every evening. That reminds me, if you don’t mind, I wanted to ask why you decided to quit your job at Skyline. Was the work load getting to you?”

  Joe smiled, sat back on the couch, and answered, “I will tell you the truth about my decision to resign, even though you might think I’m a little weird after you hear this.”

  “No, go ahead,” James encouraged.

  “OK,” Joe began, “I just didn’t have enough time for myself. When I say for myself, I mean for the things I feel are important for me to do. You see, there is something a little different about me, James. A couple years ago I had a friend who was killed in an accident. His death was shrouded in mystery, and the police never really figured out who to fault for the tragedy. I would rather not go into details because this is still too painful for me to discuss, but I couldn’t help but feel his death was in part my fault. You see, James, I made a bad decision that night, and I believe that’s part of the reason why my friend isn’t here any more. I fell into depression and really had no direction in my life. I had a huge burden of guilt that rode me ragged every day, and I finally started to think I might be better off just ending it myself. At least then I could satisfy my debt to my friend. That’s when I met this guy who saw something in me. Everyone else thought I was a loser; that my hopes and dreams were finished. This guy, though, was different. He told me that every one of us has a little spark of light in us. At least that is how he explained it. The spark does nothing by itself, though, and most people just live their whole lives totally unaware of the roles the Light and Dark play in the world. He convinced me, though, of our need to join a battle between Light and Darkness that goes on around us unseen. Maybe I just believed him because I thought it might be a way for me to repay some of the wrong I have caused in this world. Nevertheless, I asked him to tell me more. That’s when he told me something that shook me up. He told me that some of us are chosen – chosen to draw on the Light; to foster it into an ability unlike any you could imagine. Mind you, when I say chosen, I don’t necessarily mean we have no role in the process, but rather that it has been known that we would become one of these people. Servants he called them - ones who chose to serve the Light. He looked me dead in the eyes and told me I could become one of these servants. I was shocked. I didn’t believe him at first,” Joe hesitated and cleared his throat, “but after a while, my eyes were opened to what he was saying.” Joe had been on the edge of his seat, but now leaned back as the expression on his face oddly became sullen. “Everything seemed so clear back then.”

  “Whoa, hang on Joe!” James exclaimed. “You know, this is a little freaky. This sounds like some kind of religious cult or something. You haven’t fallen into any of that stuff, have you?”

  “No, no,” Joe countered, “this is not an idea or philosophy created by a man. All I’m talking about is the age old battle between the Light and Dark. It’s real, James. We just can’t see it. It’s going on around us all the time. You can see it in history, or in the folk tales and legends of the ancients. Evidence of it exists in every fiber of our world and the events that occur around us every day.”

  James was feeling more than a little uncomfortable at this point. Joe always seemed to be a pretty level-headed guy, but this was too much. He didn’t want to deal with any more of this tonight. Besides, he was losing valuable sleep.

  “Listen,” James said with measured patience, “I do think what you’re
saying is a little strange, and perhaps we can continue this conversation at a later date. Now, though, I honestly must get some rest, or I will be worthless at tomorrow’s training conference.”

  “Oh, sure!” Joe said as he bolted to his feet and began to head for the door. “I’m sorry about staying so late. I’m glad you at least listened to my ravings. So many things seem to be bouncing around in my head these days, and it’s good to have someone to talk to. Maybe we can get together sometime and talk again.”

  “Yes, later sounds good,” James said as he mentally made a note to avoid Joe for a while.

  “Oh! I’m moving out Sunday, so let me give you my cell phone number,” Joe said as he walked through the door into the hallway. “I’m not sure where I’ll be living yet, so this will be the only way to get in touch with me.”

  “OK,” James replied and took the scrap of paper Joe handed him. “Take care, Joe, and don’t worry about me. I’m not in any kind of danger.”

  “Sure,” Joe said sheepishly over his shoulder as he made his way to the elevator down the hall. “Good night.”

  What an evening, James thought as he locked the door and shuffled back to his bed. It looks like the stress really was getting to Joe. Well, I guess believing in that stuff doesn’t hurt as long as it keeps you sane under the pressures of life.

  James turned off the light and settled into bed for the second time that evening. The alarm clock read 12:15 p.m.

  Three floors down in the same building, Joe Senagi entered his apartment and let the door close behind him. Man, he thought, I really made myself look like a fool tonight. But I really think he’s different…like me. He just doesn’t know it yet. He’s not like those others full of hypocrisy and ambition.

  Sleep came slowly to Joe that night, even though his body was exhausted. There were too many questions bouncing around in his head with the ferocity of a Chinese ping pong match. Was there something more to James than he had originally thought? Would he make a good servant? Was he even really convinced that he himself was one of these chosen, anyways?

  UPON THE EVE OF THE DEDICATION

  Crimson, gold, silver, and green,

  Glowing beacons in the night.

  Images of a world unseen,

  Chasing shadows out of sight.

  Piles of papers covered the desk creating a miniature city of documents and design panels. Light from the animated screen saver danced across the dimly lit office. James Huener gave a start as he suddenly woke in a temporary daze. After a few seconds, he realized he had fallen asleep at his desk once again. Stress was starting to get to him, and he just couldn’t sleep very well since that night two weeks ago when Joe had dropped by unexpectedly.

  I wonder what Joe is up to now anyways? James wondered. He left work a while ago and moved out of his apartment at the Silver Towers. Since then, James hadn’t even thought about him, perhaps on purpose. James glanced at his watch, a family heirloom with a mother of pearl face, and winced as he read the time – 10:30 p.m.

  James shut down his computer and picked up his coat. He stumbled to the door and locked up the office. After taking the elevator down from the twentieth floor, where he worked, James walked across the lobby of the Skyline Building. The monstrous models of characters from many of Skyline’s successful advertisement ventures adorned every corner of the large domed room. This late in the night, they cast shadows which formed awkward patterns of shaded light on the metal floor and glass walls. It was so quiet, so lonely, and as he stepped out into the cold night air, the feeling of solitude increased.

  It was late in the fall season here, and James already longed for spring to come. He did not like the cold. In fact, the only consolation this season held for him was the celebration of the Dedication of Lights. Tonight was one of the last nights of the celebration. James had been in love with this holiday since he experienced it after moving to this country a little over a year ago. Traditionally, the locals would fix wires or ribbon to the ceilings of their houses and dangle colorful glass balls with candles in them at different heights. The custom held that as you hung a light, you would make a wish for the coming year. Clear white lights represented personal wishes, while colored globes represented wishes for others. In recent years, people had also taken to hanging strands of tiny lights outdoors on trees and bushes. The light decorating usually occurred on the first day of the week of the Dedication of Lights. The rest of the days were for feasting on all kinds of wonderful foods. In particular, the final celebratory dinner would traditionally include a large fish as the meal’s centerpiece. In this part of the country, an odd, elongated fish was popular. It bore fins bristling with spines and was covered with thin red and orange lines that ran parallel to each other along the fish’s body and reflected light like a cat’s eyes. Another major aspect of the Dedication of Lights was the symbol of the Father of Lights. Advertisements and children’s books usually depicted him as an old yet strong man with a long, flowing white robe edged with gold and silver trim. The Father of Lights was invisible to human eyes, but he would visit each house during the week and pass through all the hanging lights. As he passed through, he heard the wishes and hopes dedicated to these lights and would bring them to pass, so long as the responsible person was living a good life. James never really believed all of that, of course, but it brought warm memories to him of holiday cheer despite its foreign nature. Maybe there was something about holidays like this that had a universal appeal to people around the world. After all, which culture didn’t celebrate some kind of holiday that involved decorative lights or candles? Not to mention, most had a holiday that centered on harvest, too.

  James walked along the street a ways and came to the turn where he often took a short cut through Taepung Park to get to the subway station. What he saw chased away all his growing feelings of wariness and discomfort at being out alone so late. The park was bejeweled with sparkling lights of every color. An army of tiny lights marched down the stone walls into the distance. Every cluster of bushes seemed to be trying to out-do its neighbor with dazzling beauty. Then he saw the trees. They were breathtaking. Although this was not the first time James had been in this country during the Dedication of Lights, he did not get out of the apartment much during the holiday last year, and was not familiar with all its traditions. Mimicking the glass balls in their houses, the city folk hung large paper lanterns from every tree in the park. They were all different colors with varying brightness. Some even displayed paintings or prints on the faces of the lantern cases. James caught glimpses of lanterns shaped as rectangles, squares, balls, and cylinders. It was amazing. Using lanterns instead of glass balls was different, yet he liked it in a way.

  For about five minutes, James stood silently still, watching the lanterns swing slowly back and forth in the cool night breeze like pendulums on clocks. The visible fog of his breath in the cold air rhythmically rose in front of him. As James finally shook himself out of serene appreciation, he stepped down the path and continued through the park. Just as his eyes were turning from a large, leafless tree decked with round orange and green lanterns, he caught the outline of a dark form dart across his peripheral vision. James snapped his head to the side to get a glimpse of what had moved in the corner of his eye, but saw nothing besides the ancient trees speckled with glowing lights.

  Just one of those things, James thought. It’s a visual trick my brain played on me. It happens to everybody.

  Although he continued to rationalize his fear, James quickened his pace and shot a direct path to the subway entrance. That same feeling he had two weeks ago held a loose grip on his heart, and he fought to push it out completely.

  The stairway down to the subway was well lit and brought a wave of security over James as he made his way underground to catch a ride home. After passing through the ticket gate and following another flight of stairs to a lower level, he arrived at the tracks. He was just in time. The polished, clean subway cars rushed by him as the train decelerated and came to a g
entle stop. He stepped inside and took a seat, since the car was sparsely populated. One thing James favored about this city was its subway system. It was clean, modern, and efficient. Granted, in the mornings it was often difficult to squeeze into the cars packed with commuters. At night, however, few people were traveling home around the time he usually made it out of the office. The two rows of seats facing inward along the car walls were nearly empty.

  James glanced around the subway car, noticing all the advertisements on the walls carried a holiday theme. The reminder of the season finally put his mind at ease. That scare in the park was just the work of his over-stressed imagination again. Yes, definitely. As his eyes wandered about, he took casual note of an older lady sitting at the far end of the car from him. She was knitting something very colorful, probably a gift for someone she cared about. The season really brought out the good in people. The sixth day of the Dedication of Lights was gift day. You were supposed to give a gift to people close to you. Traditionally, the gift was something that could be worn, like clothes or jewelry, but these days big advertising had succeeded in taking a lot of the traditions out of the holiday in an effort to increase consumer spending.

  Another local sat across from him and to the left two seats down. He was the only other person in the car with James and the old woman, and he was fast asleep. He wore a well-fitted business suit of dark wool with a burgundy tie. The silver framed glasses resting on his nose would have made him look dignified, that is, if not for the small puddle on his shirt collar growing just below his wide open mouth. The guy must have been out for a while.

  As James was wondering if the man might have missed his stop and maybe he should wake him up, he heard the door joining his car to the next car slide open and then roll closed with a clank. A middle-aged gentleman of average build with slightly graying hair shuffled into the car and hesitated for a moment, taking in the environment. He wore a knit turtleneck sweater with slacks and leather gloves. The man gave a small start as if he had just snapped out of a mild day dream and walked over to take a seat across from James and to his right. As James began to mentally rehearse the plans for tomorrow’s Saturday morning work breakfast, he inadvertently kept a casual watch on all three of the car’s other occupants. After a while, it struck him that the new addition to the car was staring at him. Well, this wasn’t new. This man was a local, too, and foreigners were not very common in this country. Several times, older folks had stared at him on the subway because of his blue eyes. James met the man’s gaze and forced himself to hold eye contact. This was usually the best way to get one of these types to realize what they were doing.