The Wars Within (Servant of Light Book 1)

by Jeremy Finn

  James focused all his energy and propelled himself forward as fast as he could. He picked a large tree just ahead of him and dashed toward it. When he was about to run into the tree, he did not slow, but jumped into the air and thrust his legs out in front of him. With both legs extended, he hit the tree trunk with a kick that sent electric shocks through his bones and buckled his knees. As he did this, he also reached to his right and took hold of a sapling only about twice his height. James fell to the ground at the base of the tree and turned to face his attacker. The man had a deep look of hate in his eyes, and he gave a guttural scream upon realizing the effect of James’ action. The shock of James’ strike on the tree, though minuscule in relation to the tree’s size, was just enough to shake loose a multitude of dead leaves that were hanging by mere fibers to the branches above. This led to a shower of table-sized leaves falling erratically between James and the assassin and creating a temporary barrier to sight. Unfortunately, the barrier to sight was only just that. It was not capable of even slowing the assassin as he hacked and slashed his way effortlessly through the curtains of leaves. James expected this, though, and was not depending on the leaves to hold the man back, only to obscure his vision.

  James rose to one knee and positioned himself in a crouch, ready to propel his body forward. Simultaneously, he lifted the sapling he snapped from its base and pointed it in the direction of the rapidly approaching killer. The sapling’s break from its base splintered the wood on the end and left a rough but pointed tip. Though it was only seconds, James felt as if he waited for an eternity while he heard the yelling and slashing grow closer and closer. Then suddenly the large leaf drifting to the earth directly in front of him ripped in half revealing the floating assassin with his arms following the sword’s slash to his left. James saw the look of surprise dance across his face for an instant before his features constricted in agony as James pushed himself off the forest floor and thrust the broken sapling’s thin trunk through his stomach.

  The opposing forces and their collision caused both men to crash to the ground. James grabbed the assassin’s sword, which was lying on the ground next to him, but released it immediately as it seared his hand. There was no need for the blade, though, as the man groaned once and then slumped to the ground with his body slightly humped as the sapling protruded from his back and suspended his midsection off the forest floor. As James was watching in shock, a form like a black, hulking monster twisted out of the body and instantly vaporized into the air. The man’s sword soon followed in the same manner.

  After inspecting the body to be sure the man was dead, James sat propped against a tree for fifteen minutes trying to slow his pulse and his breathing. Increasing strikes of lighting in the distance caused him to hasten his recovery, though, as he realized he was going to have to find cover quickly. There was one big problem, however. James completely lost his feeling of direction and time. For the first time since he began the journey, he had absolutely no awareness of these feelings that drove him for nearly two weeks. Had he failed? Was it all over now? He must have missed his time limit and failed the mission. Maybe the servants would never accept him now.

  As the wind began to pick up, James realized regardless of whether he failed the mission or not, he was going to have to find shelter soon. He was tired, cold, beat up and hungry, and this approaching storm did not look like a passing shower. He remembered the map showed several streams flowing down the eastern slope of the mountains and merging into larger arteries that crossed the narrow coastal plain before dumping into the sea. Since farms and villages were often located by river sides, he decided following one of these rivers would be a good plan. Even if he did not come across civilization along the way, there was bound to be a fishing village or something once he reached the coast.

  James hobbled along at the best pace he could manage and soon found himself at the edge of the unusual forest. He continued downhill and quickly came to a tiny rivulet of water meandering through the grasses and shrubs on the gently descending hillside. This was a relief, but was met with disappointment at the same time as the heavens opened above him and icy rain began to pour down on him. Though the temperature was noticeably warmer in this southern region, it was still cold enough to cause James’ hands to go numb after a short time. Fortunately, his jacket was semi-waterproof and kept the core of his body dry for the time being. After dropping over another little swell in the land, James was able to see far below into the coastal plain stretched out before him. It looked as if he would be on the plain in less than an hour. Through the haze caused by the rain, James could not see any sign of civilization. Night was nearly upon the plain, and a nagging voice kept telling him anyone living below would be turning on their lights about this time. None were visible, though, as he continued sloshing through the wet grass and mud along the stream side, which was swelling noticeably with the addition of the falling rain. It was difficult to be sure, but he thought he could just make out the coastline in the gray haze behind the shifting curtains of rain falling over the plain.

  Hours later, James was becoming desperate. He was shaking uncontrollably since the rain finally permeated his jacket and was soaking his body. The numbness in his limbs was making coordinated movement difficult, and he was growing very drowsy. The swelling stream he following joined a larger river, and he followed it more by sound than by sight through the black, wet night. The undergrowth around the river was moderate, but the open fields of the slope gave way to low, leafless trees. Due to the trees, rain, and darkness, he could not see far ahead, and would probably pass a lighted house not far away without even knowing it. But James stuck to the river as his only hope. Perhaps he stuck a little too close, though. His weary body suddenly gave way as his foot hit a patch of slippery mud and he slid feet first off the low bank and plunged into the rushing water below.

  The shock of the icy water forced James to exhale violently, and he struggled to reach the surface. He felt as if he was caught in a giant washing machine full of rocks and ice as his body bounced off jutting crags and shot through eddies and whirlpools. For what seemed like an eternity, he fought a harrowing battle to lift his head above the water and suck in a little air before a wave of muddy water smashed into his face. Just as he was losing the strength to fight any longer, something grabbed the back of his jacket and held on tightly. Since he was floating on his stomach, he was now trapped by the suction of the mass of water attempting to drag him downstream. He could not lift his head above the water, and he realized someone was trying to drown him. With the determination that only certain death brings the weary, James found just enough strength to reach over the back of his head and grab onto the hand holding him under. The thick arm felt hard and rough, and as he used his grip to twist his body around and face upright, he saw in the darkness not an arm, but a ragged branch hanging over the water’s edge.

  After filling his lungs with sweet air, James focused intently on gripping the branch hand over hand to move in the direction of the shore. More than once, he lost his grip with one hand on the slippery branch, but managed to hold on with the other long enough to regain his hold. The relentless drag of the river finally started to succumb and his feet kicked a sandy bottom. James crawled up onto the bank while clinging to the branch, and fell on top of the log from which the branch extruded. Though his survival instinct drove him to continue, he felt as if he was comfortable enough where he was, and would not mind just sleeping on the log. In fact, he did not even feel so cold anymore, just very tired. But just barely over the roar of the river, he heard something that woke him from what would have been his final nap – a wave crashing on a shoreline.

  James crawled up the muddy bank and drug himself into the dark forest’s edge by pulling on vines and weeds along the way. Even though he could barely feel with his hands, he suddenly noticed a change in texture. He had been gripping weeds and brushing aside fallen leaves, but now he felt something hard and stubbly. He pulled his eyes up to his hands and saw
the edge of a hard-packed dirt road right before him.

  Though he did not have the stamina to last more than ten more minutes, fortune was smiling on him. After crawling for five minutes along the road in the direction of the sound of the waves, he came to an ornate stone arch, which marked the beginning of a stone pathway. The pathway led into a small tunnel bored through a mass of rock. When James came out of the little tunnel on his hands and knees, he nearly wept. There before him rested a magnificent structure sitting precariously on a shelf of rock overlooking the raging ocean. A polished stone staircase ran down the rock before him with stone lanterns posted like sentries along its sides. At the bottom of the stairway, a carved stone bridge rose in an arch over the point where the river he just escaped crashed into the ocean with a fury that created a boiling bowl of water like a witch’s cauldron. Where the bridge landed on a stone shelf opposite the river, two buildings stood solemnly, daring the ocean to strike them. They were constructed much like the buildings of Hanasan Hold with one on the far side of the shelf and the other on the back side of the shelf furthest from the ocean. There was a stone railing running along the edge of the shelf, but otherwise, the buildings had no other protection against the waves that shot foam over the rocks at them and threatened to rise upon them and drag them into the depths of the sea.

  James crawled down the stairs and over the bridge, then realized there were no signs of life emanating from either of the buildings. Now that he was in the courtyard between them, he could see the doors hung open and the windows flapped and slammed shut in the wind. There were no lights or signs of habitation at all.

  Well, I’ve come this far, and now I’ll die on the edge of the ocean. James thought in defeat. At least I went as far as I possibly could.

  James sunk down to the ground on top of a large symbol inlaid in the stone like a mosaic. It was a huge circle of dark, onyx-like stone with a white, star-like design bursting from its center in outstretched rays. He lay on his side watching the door of the far building swing slowly on its hinges, waiting to pass into eternal rest. His mind flashed with thoughts about how his family would take his death, how his boss would respond to his bizarre absence, what they would think about his body showing up on the south coast, dead from exposure with no apparent explanation. And Sunga, how would she feel about his death – a loss to the Light, maybe something more....

  While these final thoughts were passing through his mind, he saw a shooting star streak across the dark sky. At first, he took it as an ironic twist of fate that he would get to make a wish right before he died, but after several seconds, a dim light began to glow in the building in front of him. It grew to brightness bold enough to illuminate the building, and began to move slowly toward James. At this point, James was finished with running and striving for life. So, he just watched as the glowing orb hovered across the courtyard and stopped before him.

  “Am I dying?” James croaked at the ball of light.

  “No,” a voice came from the orb, “you will live.”

  James strained his eyes and saw the outline of a human form through the light before him.

  “We will talk soon,” it said. “It is time to rest now.”

  The form raised its hand and waved it slowly through the air. The light expanded and encompassed James. He felt the warmth of the light soak through his skin and burrow into his bones and organs. It felt fabulous, and lasted for only an instant before he fell immediately into the soundest sleep he ever enjoyed.

  DAWN BREAKS AMIDST THE STORM

  Oh, that the dust and clay were washed out of mine eyes,

  that I might behold together with the presence, the numbers,

  the beauties and excellencies of those my ever-present guardians.

  -Bishop Hall

  When James opened his eyes, he found himself in a setting much different than his previous environment. The storm apparently continued to rage outside. He could hear the howling wind beating against the closed shutters and the waves crashing against the rocky shore, but it seemed to have subsided a little. He was now nestled snuggly beneath thick blankets in a stark but warm and dry room. By the shape of the room and the design of the door, he could guess he was inside the building he was facing when he lost consciousness. How long ago was that? A single, ancient lamp hung from the ceiling, but it remained lifeless. Nevertheless, the room was bathed in a soft, glowing light. James quickly realized this light came from his host, who stood against the wall apparently observing him in silence. Although the being appeared to be human, his unusual height, perfect appearance, and ability to emanate light caused James to recoil slightly in fear.

  “Do not be afraid,” the being said soothingly, “I am Eshaiel, the guardian of the southern seas.”

  “Oh,” James stammered, “so you are a guardian then. I guess that’s a relief.” James paused as he contemplated his position at this point. “Well, I’m afraid you must have been sent to bail me out and send me home. You must know that I am…”

  “James Huener,” Eshaiel interrupted, “a servant of the Light.”

  “Oh,” James began with embarrassment, “I guess you don’t know then.”

  “Know what, servant?” Eshaiel returned with genuine interest.

  “Well, that I failed my mission. That I lost my way and gave up here on the edge of the sea,” James admitted.

  The guardian paused for a moment, then let out a hearty laugh free from the sarcasm or contempt James expected. “No, servant, you have completed your journey. You have reached the ancient Haeboah Temple and met adversity along the way with success. All that remains is for you to make the final decision to choose the Light and follow it for the remainder of your life. Do you make this choice?”

  James was astonished. He felt like a failure during the entire journey, and only continued because he felt it was his duty to at least finish the trek. “How do you find my efforts acceptable?” He questioned.

  Again the guardian laughed out loud. “No James,” he chuckled, “your success did not come of your own efforts. If that were so, you would have failed by the first day of your journey. No, you succeeded because He gave you the ability to succeed every time, and He did this because you continued in faith and in a genuine desire to do what was right.”

  “Who is He?” James asked, though he felt in his heart he knew the answer.

  “The Father of Lights, of course,” Eshaiel answered, “Now, do you make the choice to follow the Light?”

  James paused for a moment to let all he heard sink in. It did not take long, though, because he felt in his heart it was the truth, almost like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place. Suddenly he knew without a shadow of a doubt he wanted to give his life to the Light and work against the Darkness that roamed the earth. “Yes!” he exclaimed as he sat up in his bed, “I make the choice to follow the Light, and may the Light make use of me in whatever ways it sees as best.”

  Eshaiel smiled and said, “Well done, servant. Welcome to the body of the Light. Now you should eat, and while time allows us I will answer your questions, for they must be many.”

  James followed his host’s invitation and was soon seated on the floor at a low table busily consuming a variety of cold, apparently raw seafood side dishes arranged in a rainbow of tiny plates surrounding a heaping bowl of steaming rice. Due to James’ extreme hunger, the pair remained silent for some time. As James’ belly began to fill and the dishes began to empty, he took up Eshaiel’s offer to pose questions. Meanwhile, the guardian produced a small clay pot inscribed with rough images of sea monsters dashing through the waves of a frothy ocean surface, and poured a little cup of steaming green tea for both of them.

  “First of all, how can I understand you? I’m sure you can understand any language, but are you speaking my language or do I just perceive it as such?”

  “I speak the language of the Elohin, but I have touched your ears so that you may understand it as your own language,” Eshaiel responded. “This is often how g
uardians communicate with men.”

  “So, I really don’t understand much about the guardians beside the basics of how they are related to this world and their relationship with humans,” James continued. “What did you mean when you called yourself the guardian of the southern seas?”

  “We all have our purpose as guardians,” Eshaiel explained. “We have been put in charge of various things according to rank and talent. Some of us are assigned generally to deal with men while others are assigned cities, nations, geographic entities, or even elements. As I have said, my charge is over the southern seas.”

  “So,” James continued, “this must be your headquarters or something…this building I mean.”

  “No,” replied the guardian, “though I am close enough to the ocean to smell its salt spray, I am still in the realm of he who roams this country, and those that roam the region and towns under him that surround us. And this building, it is a remnant of the servants. It was once a powerful center of the activities of the Light in this area, but like many other such abandoned places you will find in this country, it fell victim to the decrease in the numbers of human servants over the years.”

  “The strength of the Light is decreasing here?” James asked with surprise. “But how can that be if all the cities, regions, and elements are under the control of guardians?”

  Eshaiel sighed, “James, you must remember that the object and determinant of the war on this earth is men. No matter how many guardians stand watch, there are always dark guardians who preside over the same areas, almost like mirror opposites at every post. The war not only wages among men in their everyday lives, but also behind the seats of power and authority in the realm of men and nature. And since this world is predominantly held by the Darkness, the battles for influence and control of these positions and the men that head them often fall to the Dark.”