The Wars Within (Servant of Light Book 1)

by Jeremy Finn

  “But he did try to kill me again. He put a mark on me.” James explained.

  “If you had been marked, I would be able to see it. You are mistaken.” Joe said dismissively.

  “No, Joe,” James returned, “I was marked but Arcturas took the mark away.”

  “Arcturas...” Joe said under his breath as he seemed to be remembering something long ago. He appeared to be tiring of the questions and explanations, and he stood dangerously close to the edge of the broken window, swaying slightly as the wind whipped around his shadowy form. James felt for his old friend and wanted to bring him back despite how far he had dipped into treachery.

  “Look,” James tried, “you made a lot of mistakes, but you can change that. Maybe the chief servants will want you dead, but after what happened with the Intercessor, I don’t think I will be involved with Hanasan anymore either. Let’s find DaNyang and we can sort this out. You can get over the mistakes you made.”

  Joe stood silently for a moment and tossed a piece of his torn shirt out into the storm. It twisted and twirled as the currents carried it away. Then, he cast a small glance over his shoulder toward James and said, “No James, it’s far too late for that. I am not acceptable to either side. I have chosen my path, and the path has come to a precipice.” His toes were hanging over the edge of the building wall. “It ends here.”

  “No, wait!” James shouted and took a few steps toward his friend, but Joe looked him calmly in the eyes and stepped out the window just as if he were stepping out the front door of his house for an idle stroll through the garden. James rushed to the edge and forced himself slowly to a point where he could look down into the urban canyon below. All he could see was a cyclone of rain and dim lights glowing through the haze filling the void between the top of the high-rise and the street below. He fell to his knees and mourned silently for a friend lost to him twice now in just the last few minutes. Then, tiny red and blue lights swept through the darkness far below and snapped his mind out of its emotional trance. Why had he not thought about the police? Of course someone would call them when the Intercessor’s body slapped into the street. Now he had to find a way out of this place before he was faced with trying to explain his way out of a shredded official’s office and the series of bodies that had rained down on the street below.

  James picked his way over the ruins of the luxurious office and followed the hallway to the elevator. He pressed the call button and waited, but while he was waiting the obvious thought crossed his mind that the police were going to be using the elevator too. Even if they were not already on the car swiftly approaching his floor, they would certainly be in the lobby when he reached it. Without any other choice, he turned toward the fire stairwell and decided it would be better to get to a lower floor and then try to figure out a way to exit the building unseen. Just as he reached for the door, though, he heard the elevator chime for the third time this evening and knew the police had already arrived. He jerked at the door frantically, but it was stuck. It finally cracked open, but the force of his pull brought the edge of the door right into his forehead. As he stumbled back, several voices shouted appeals for him to cease movement and make his appendages visible. About seven special operations police poured into the hallway right beside him and all of them were holding some sort of assault rifle or handgun pointed directly at his head. James did not need further encouragement, and he slowly brought his hands up to head level. Despite his cooperative attitude, the lead officer rushed him and kicked him in the stomach. As James doubled over, he was pushed to the ground and two men straddled him as they began to work a pair of particularly uncomfortable handcuffs onto his wrists.

  “No, stop!” a familiar voice commanded. “He is the one who helped me. Let him go.”

  The men sitting with their knees burrowed into his back shouted their acknowledgement and jumped off him. As they helped James to his feet, he saw the official walking toward him as the rest of the police poured into the ruined office.

  “Are there any more…dangers…still around?” he asked quietly.

  “No,” James replied. “It’s all over. Your counselor, or what you thought was your counselor, is dead. The others are gone as well.”

  “Thank you,” the minister said diplomatically. “Come with me.”

  He escorted Joe to the elevator and down through the lobby past the huddles of police and detectives and into his private car waiting on the curb, just as a mass of journalists descended on the scene.

  Once they were in the car, he turned to James, “I don’t know what that was all about, and honestly I don’t think I can speak to anyone concerning what really happened up there. You saved my life, though, as well as saving me from making what appears to be a poor decision for my country. What can I do for you to repay you?”

  “Before we go,” James broke in as he feared they would soon be leaving, “can I just see the bodies. They were friends of mine…once.”

  “Bodies?” The minister seemed confused. “There weren’t any bodies that we have found yet. I thought the man you killed would still be in the office. You did kill him, right?”

  “Well, not directly,” James tried to explain without detail, “but he jumped out the window along with another man and one of the creatures. There weren’t any bodies on the streets?”

  “Everything down here seemed normal when we showed up,” the minister said as the car began to roll away from the chaotic scene around the building. “Besides that fender bender over there, this is the same street scene you would see anywhere in Haniang at 12:30 at night.”

  James glanced at the car pulled over to the side of the road where a small man seemed to be trying very hard to explain something to a police officer who listened with a very patronizing expression. The right front of the car was smashed in, apparently the result of striking one of the many street lamps along the side of the street, though curiously none of the posts appeared to be damaged in any way.

  “So what can I do for you?” the minister asked again. “Tell me where you live and I’ll drop you off. If you can’t think of something now, call my office…well, my other office, and I’ll make sure you are taken care of.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have an apartment anymore…” James said absently as he sought some explanation for the missing bodies. Could the wind have carried them to a farther location? Of course not.

  “Well,” the politician pressed, “Can I at least get you a temporary place or buy you a ticket home? Where are you from?”

  James unintentionally ignored him for a few moments as he realized everything he had and everyone he knew here were lost. Maybe DaNyang was out there somewhere, but even if he had not been killed, even if he had managed to scrape together a few of the runaways, what good would a small group of cowards and a novice do to help him overcome the chief servants who certainly had an iron grip on Hanasan by now. Thinking about the chief servants and their trial of the Intercessor brought back some of Joe’s final words to him, “Light and Darkness are not the only forces at odds with each other, James, often times they war within as well.” Then he remembered the minister who was looking at him apprehensively.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “No…I don’t think I should leave Haniang now.” Something was stirring inside him. He did not like it, but he was increasingly feeling the conviction that he should return to Hanasan Hold. Every time he had been there ended in a desperate situation, and he could not see how going there again would not lead to the same if not worse, but still, the feeling was undeniable.

  “Then…” the minister began but James cut him off.

  “Can you take me to the mountains north of the city?” he asked. “I…have some things to sort out there. Somewhere near the traditional district would be best.”

  “Certainly,” the minister said with a curios expression. “Is that all you want?”

  “Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you,” James replied.

  The politician seemed eager to question James
on his intentions, but he also seemed to perceive that he would not say much on the matter either, so he remained quiet for the remainder of the trip. Once they entered the traditional district, James scanned the storefronts until he saw the place where he dined with DaNyang what seemed like years ago, then asked to be dropped off. As he stepped out of the car the minister called to him, “What should I do next? Can you help me any further?”

  James paused, “I’m sorry, but I don’t even really know what I am supposed to do next. I’m sure someone will contact you if there is need.”

  James felt he was leaving the minister hanging, but he really did not know what else he could do for him at this point, so a round of hasty remarks of gratitude sufficed, and James walked briskly down an alley in the direction he imagined he and DaNyang traveled in the underground storm drain. The typhoon was still assaulting Haniang, but it seemed to be weakening, and he was wrapped in a thick overcoat the minister insisted he take with him. When he emerged on the fringes of the urban area, he found himself on the banks of a little stream running past the exit of the storm drain they used about twenty meters to his right. As a result of the storm, a fountain of water and debris was gushing from the drain into the stream, which had become more like a small river in spring. Fortunately, there was a little bridge spanning the rapids, and even though the water was lapping the belly of the bridge, it still seemed passable.

  James scampered over the bridge, through the fields beyond, and found the trailhead quickly. He still did not know what he was going to do when he arrived at the top of the mountain and found himself in the hands of those who obviously meant him harm. At least they would give him a dry place to rest and some food before they decided what to do with him…ok, probably not; but he could not ignore the obvious tug at his soul to travel back to the rock-bound highland fortress immediately.

  CIVIL WARS

  We must recognize the titanic struggle carried on every day between forces of darkness and forces of light…

  These two armies engage in a great warfare that exceeds human thought and affects the course of nations and the world.

  -C. Fred Dickason

  After a few hours of slipping on wet rocks and stumbling through dark, winding trails, James finally found himself passing through the little village of visitor’s cheebs. He did not realize he was within the village until the tiny houses were surrounding him. Everything was dark and dead, and the sound of the rain was the only audible noise. Even as he passed over the swollen little stream and cautiously entered the courtyard, not a single flickering light greeted him. The buildings of the hold looked ghostly and forlorn, almost like the deserted hold he stayed in overnight on his journey across the mountains during his mission. Perhaps they have all left the hold, he thought as he crossed the courtyard.

  “Hello?” he ventured timidly.

  “So you have returned as well,” a voice startled him out of the darkness. He wheeled around to face the disembodied voice and found a dark figure standing behind him in the courtyard. James reached for his rhema, but stopped with his hand on the hilt.

  “No need for that,” the man chuckled. “As you can see, you are far outnumbered.”

  James glanced around and realized the man was not bluffing. Dark forms were emerging from the tree line and from around buildings in every direction.

  “I know there is no Light in you,” James spat, “and I’ll fight you for what you have done even if it means my own certain death.”

  “Then consider your friends,” the man said with amusement as he swept his hand toward the Intercessor’s Hall and James saw a small group of bound people being shoved out of the shadows.

  “James!” DaNyang’s voice called. “You are alive! Praise the Light! Don’t waste your life on them. Wait on the Light for the right time.”

  “Enough!” the man before him yelled, the amusement lost from his tone. “give up your blade and submit to us or we kill your friends.”

  “Very well,” James conceded as he pulled his sheath free and handed it to the man. His captor pulled the blade free a few centimeters to examine it and James could see his features in the glow of the blade. It was Rhesing - the chief servant who had been at the head of the attempt on the Intercessor’s life. Someone kicked James hard in the back and he fell on his stomach. His hands were bound behind him and he was led up the stairs of the Intercessor’s Hall and brought back to a small storage room where he was unceremoniously dumped.

  “We’ll be back for you soon enough,” his escort croaked as he slammed the door and locked him in a world of darkness.

  James lost track of time and even dozed off despite his very uncomfortable situation. He woke as the door flung open, revealing a similar rainy night sky and two men reaching down to grab hold of him. He was dragged across the courtyard to the Assembly Hall where they entered through the back door, and James found himself in a deliciously warm, lighted room separated from the large assembly room that encompassed most of the building. DaNyang and about nine others were sitting on a bench against the wall. James' escort pushed him down onto the bench next to DaNyang and walked over to lean against the back door with his hand resting on his sword. There were three other guards hovering around the door leading into the assembly hall, but they did not seem to fear the disarmed servants bound and seated on the bench.

  “DaNyang,” James whispered while keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. “what happened?”

  “Long story,” he replied cautiously. “As you can see, I recruited several of the servants, but they were ready for us. We walked into a trap just like you did.”

  The guards did not seem to mind their whispers, so James tried a little more.

  “How did the Intercessor escape? Did they free him?”

  “The Intercessor?” DaNyang gasped and drew the attention of one of the guards. After a period of silence he began again, “You saw him? He escaped just before we came here. We didn’t know, but we found out after we were captured. All the chief servants were fuming about it. I guess they postponed his sentence to this morning. I’ve got a bad feeling we are going to be sacrificed to their rage over losing him.”

  “But he’s dead,” James said regretfully. “At least I’m pretty sure he is. He took Jaeil out the window of a skyscraper, and the dark guardian’s blade was buried in his stomach.”

  “What!?” DaNyang exclaimed in disbelief. “It can’t be.” He sat silently for a moment, then said with resolve, “We’ll follow his lead, then. We will give this trial our best shot at bringing these misguided servants back to the Light. If that should fail, we will make an attempt at escape, no matter how desperate it may be.”

  “I’m with you,” James agreed, “but why are we being put on trial? Why don’t they just kill us?

  “It’s not that easy for them,” DaNyang explained. “They still get their legitimacy from their positions in the hold. They haven’t denied the Light openly, though in their hearts they surely have. Though they act as heinously as the Dark itself, they still profess to be Servants of the Light and the leaders of the cause in this land. Therefore, they need to have some sort of explanation for why we need to be severely disciplined, something that won’t make servants sitting on the fence start to question their intentions. So, as wrong as it may seem, we are essentially at war with ourselves when we should be focusing all our efforts on the Dark.”

  “Just like Joe said,” James remarked.

  “Joe?” DaNyang queried. “What did he know about all of this? He died before Rhesing’s ambitions became known.”

  “I’ll explain later,” James promised. He certainly did not want to add Joe’s treachery to the concerns weighing on DaNyang’s mind at the moment. “Now if we are going to go through a trial, can you give me some advice on what I should do? When do we say the cause is lost and try for an escape?”

  Before DaNyang could answer, though, a man stuck his head in and spoke to the guards briefly. The guards turned to the prisoners and announced the
initiation of their trial. Moments later, they were being led through the door and into the bright assembly room. The guards deposited them on row of chairs placed along the center of the large room. Far across the room on the balcony, where James dined with the Intercessor that fateful night no long ago, the eight chief servants sat gazing pompously down on the eleven ragged servants. Rhesing sat in the center in a chair slightly elevated above the others.

  “This trial will come to order with the intent of determining the punishment necessary for these errant servants who have caused great detriment to the Light,” Rhesing boomed as he addressed no one in particular. “DaNyang Lomas and James Huener, come forward. You are the orchestrators of this rebellion and will answer first.”

  James glanced at DaNyang, who gave him a reassuring, nod and they rose together to walk to the lonely center of the vast hall.

  “Swear by the Light you will tell nothing but the truth,” Rhesing commanded.

  “Of this I gladly swear,” DaNyang replied with a strong voice, and James mimicked him.

  “In the early morning hours following the feast of the Festival of Lights you did lead the forces of Darkness in ambush upon our vulnerable hold with the intent of destroying the stronghold of the Light in Haniang. Furthermore, as this attempt failed to meet your goal, you organized a handful of the traitors, who fled after the attack and attempted another assault with the intent of freeing the central conspirator, the Intercessor himself,” Rhesing finished.