The Seal of Solomon

by Jeffrey Ellis

  “An innocent death in the line of duty is not a new thing. It's happened on occasion since the first time Wardens took up arms in defense of our fellow people. It's especially difficult for us because of how much we're conditioned to protect people from the fey. The number in the top left is the number of innocent people whose deaths have been documented. Four thousand, two hundred and seventy-one. That's the number of documented innocent people killed by Wardens in the line of duty throughout our history. We average just over two a year,” Anna told her. “They want the Warden leaders to be reminded of this every time we submit a report, enter a personnel review or anything else that requires access to the central archives.”

  “The other number is mine. They were four thousand, two hundred and fifty-three and fifty-four,” she said. “I was working a marid hunt. A hostile djinn was wreaking havoc on a small village in northern Iran. I had tracked the bitch for two days and had her. She fled into the village, but I caught up to her. She was too fast to hit with a blade, so I pulled out my pistol. I shot her. I don't miss, and it died instantly. The laser passed through the creature and reflected off a metal shovel then went through the flimsy walls of a hovel,” Anna told her. “The shovel was under a burlap sack, leaning against the wall. I couldn't even see it, but the laser found it.”

  “I heard a child scream inside the hut and ran in. A little boy, no more than six or seven was standing over his mother. The laser caught her in the gut. I got there in time to watch her die by my shot. She didn't cry out or even speak. She just held my hand and looked at me as she died. I still have dreams about it,” she told them.

  “That's not all. She was pregnant. The shot went through her abdomen and the baby died instantly. She would have given birth within a few weeks,” Anna told them as she sat back down and cried. “Every time I close my eyes, I am reminded that a child is growing up without a mother and another child was never born because of me. It was a clean shot and it shouldn't have happened. It was a clean shot,” she said despondently.

  “Four thousand, two hundred and sixty-one,” said Bethany. “A cyclops had wandered away from the caves where it lived in the Movri mountains in Greece. The facility at Athens had asked for help do to the size and power of the giant so London sent me and a few other agents,” Bethany said.

  “It was rampaging through a town. The thing was fifteen feet tall and a juggernaut. We couldn't put in a dent in it. Lasers, slugs, nothing hurt it and it was swinging this huge spiked club with incredible speed and ferocity. We couldn't get close enough to use our blades and we couldn't hurt it from a distance,” she continued.

  “Then I had an idea. There was this old-style water tower in the town like they used to have back before modern condenser pumps. It was probably a hundred and fifty feet tall and its weight must have been tons. I had the group maneuver it to a designated spot and then I shot out one of the supports and it fell on the cyclops. My calculations were perfect. The cyclops was crushed but the crash didn't stop there. The tank shattered. The old metal was structurally weak and came apart in pieces that flew across the town. One of them flew through the air and over several buildings. It hit an old man hiding in his home during the fighting,” Bethany said with tears in her eyes.

  “Four thousand, two hundred and fifty-eight,” Mason said then paused. “I killed a teacher. There was this beautiful building from the old days, I think it was a church at one time. We're talking architecture from way back, like before first world war and a gargoyle had nested in one of the towers. You know how they have this thing for ancient buildings, right? Something about the stone they tell us, but no one really knows for sure. The building had been converted to a school for gifted children.”

  “This gargoyle had already killed a few people in the city. This thing had a penchant for flying its victims up high and dropping them. We still have no idea why and could have been nothing but sadistic pleasure. Local kids had seen it more than once flying around in the hours just before dark. Making the school as its lair was fairly easy, gargoyles are not subtle and stand out.”

  “I was working with Chelsea and we split up to check the towers to find the one it was using. The building was a big square job, with four towers along the corner and a huge peaked roof in the center, like Camelot but a bit smaller. She took the north and east tower, I took the west and south. I found it in the first one I checked, and it had people with it. I called for Chelsea for backup and she came running but was a few minutes away at best. The corridors were long and winding.”

  “It had taken a teacher and two kids, and they were on the edge of the tower. I put myself between the gargoyle and the victims and we fought for two or three minutes. My gun did nothing to it and my sword just bounced off that stone bastard. It eventually got the better of me and I was down. I had taken a pretty good beating when Chelsea commed that she was almost there. The gargoyle grabbed one of the kids and flew away. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”

  “As it flew, it knocked the other kid and the teacher off balance and they fell. I fought through the pain and managed to grab them both, one with each hand but they had momentum and I was injured. I managed to stop them from falling and was dangling over the side, my grip failing and my strength giving out. I couldn't save them both. I looked at the teacher and he looked at me. I'll never forget his eyes as I said, 'I'm sorry' and let him go, grabbing the kid with both hands. I managed to barely hold on to the child until Chelsea got there and helped me pull him up. I watched the teacher fall for what felt like an eternity and then hit the ground. He never cried out or screamed or anything. I barely heard the thud from that height, but I'll never forget it.” Mason was more stoic than the others, but the pain could be read on his face.

  “Mine was four thousand, two hundred and fifty-nine. I was hunting a wolfpack with Anna and a few other agents in the Appalachian forests of Georgia. It was mostly routine. We found their lair and took them out quickly. We weren't sure we got them all so Anna and I stayed for a few days. Back then, we were more than friends and just wanted an excuse to spend a weekend together,” William told them.

  “That night, I was coming back from picking up our dinner and heard a scream. I dropped the food and ran in the direction of it. When I got there, a werewolf had charged into the middle of the town square and was killing with reckless abandon. I don't know why it went berserk, maybe it was because we killed its pack or maybe it was just its nature. Whatever the reason, I had to stop it. I commed Anna, pulled my blade and went after it.”

  “It was fast and hard to keep up with. I chased it through the town, down alleys, over dumpsters and even across a roof top before it ended up back in the square. The area was emptying out quickly but there were still people around. I think some of them stayed on purpose just to see a Warden fight. Wardens should not have groupies. It was over quickly but not before a swing of my blade caught a bystander across her chest. She kept getting closer to the fight no matter how many times I told her to get back. I dispatched the wolf and tried my best to save her but couldn't. She bled to death in my arms.”

  Trish opened her mouth to talk then broke down crying. She put her head on the table across her arms and sobbed heavily. The group all went over to her and did their best to comfort her. She cried for several minutes with Anna and Bethany sitting on either side of her with their arms around her. She pulled herself together and looked up. Her makeup was smeared and running. Her eyes were glassy and her face puffy.

  “Mine was four thousand, two hundred and seventy-one,” she said still sobbing occasionally. “An ogre was raiding campsites in Yellowstone. I was working with Sir Douglas and we had tracked it for two days. During that time, it had hit two more campsites with one fatality and four other casualties. It had no pattern, but we did our best to predict its next move.”

  “We set up an ambush and waited but it never came. We got a call over the comm that another site was being attacked about half a click away. We broke into a full run and got the
re in time to see the people lock themselves inside a camper. It offered little protection against an ogre.”

  “We attacked the ogre and you all know how tough those bastards are. Sir Douglas took a club to the head and was knocked out cold. It was just me and the ogre. My laser was nearly drained, and I was almost out of slugs. Engaging an ogre alone is dangerous enough, doing it with only your blade is suicide.”

  “I stayed at a distance for a while trying to figure out what I was going to do. Then I saw it. The campers used old fashioned pressurized gas for their grill. I grabbed the tank and opened the valve then threw it. It was heavy, and I didn't know if I could throw it, but I did. I threw it at least forty feet and then fired. I don't even know how I did that. It must have weighed fifteen kilos. My throw and the following shot were perfect, and the tank caught fire and exploded, taking the ogre's head off and shredding the upper half of its body.”

  “The fireball was bigger than I thought it would be and caught the family's camper on fire. The metal exterior didn't burn but the blast blew out a window and the inside was not so fireproof. I called for emergency services over the comm as I kicked the door down and got them out with the help of the father who was the last one out. Everyone had some degree of burns, but his wounds were far worse. He had suffered severe burns and inhaled a lot of smoke. I tried to save him, but he was too badly hurt.”

  “Everything was a slow-motion daze. I could hear his wife and kids screaming as he lay dying. Medical help would not get there in time at their best speed. He was too badly injured to even speak, and I watched him gasp as he took his last breath. I tried CPR, but he didn't respond. He was dead, and it was my fault,” Trish said and started crying again.

  Anna stood up and walked over to the monitor. “Four thousand, two hundred and seventy-one. It's yours, Trish. Own it and remember it. Causing the death of an innocent is hard enough for normal people. We're not normal. We swear above all to protect life and even when it's accidental, taking a life leaves a mark on you. It scars you. Your scar is four thousand, two hundred and seventy-one. Never forget it.”

  “I can't live with this. I can't live with taking a life. I'm done. I'm leaving the Wardens,” Trish said.

  “No, you're not,” Anna told her. “We all have that reaction but after you've had time to calm down and reflect you'll realize what you do as a Warden is still the most important thing in your life. You matter here, and you make a difference. One person died because of a mistake but if you had done nothing, all four of them along with yourself and Sir Douglas would be dead.”

  “How do I live with it?” Trish said between sobs.

  “You own it. You accept it and make it part of you. You can't undo what happened, so you don't try. You're going to hurt, you're going to cry, you're going to blame yourself. You're going to blame Douglas and the Wardens and the ogre and then yourself again. Then, eventually, you're going to accept that it was an accident, and no one's fault. What we do is dangerous and sometimes innocent people get caught in the crossfire,” Mason told her.

  “How much time that takes is up to you. It won't be easy, but you don't have to do it alone. Everyone here has been in your shoes and if you need to talk or cry or just sit with someone who knows what it's like, then you ask any of us and we'll be there,” Bethany told her.

  “We'll all be there for you, whenever you need for whatever you need. Just call on us,” William told her.

  “The only thing you cannot do is mention what happened in here to anyone else. This is an aspect of the Wardens that others won't understand. We all know your pain. I'm sorry you were ever put in that position. You were there on my orders. Trish, I can never undo it, but I will be there for your anytime you need me,” Anna told her.

  “What now?” Trish asked, tears still flowing.

  “Now, we do what we did yesterday and the day before and the day before. We choke down our pain. We silently mourn the dead and we go back to work,” William told her.

  “How do you do it?” Trish asked.

  “With friends and support. You're not alone,” Bethany told her.

  Trish held her head up and dried her tears. “I'll try to move on. I'll do my best to get past this,” she told them.

  “We can ask no more,” Anna told her.

  #

  “Neith and her followers are relentless. Her lust for power will be stopped this day,” Ra told his assembled priesthood. “She seeks to usurp my place as head of the Necromantic Order. She will fall, and the conspirators will fall with her. Let this day bind us together and purge those who would drive us apart my brothers and sisters,” Ra said.

  They stood near the center of the great Necropolis. The area was lit with light from magical torches crafted by Ra and his fellow wizards. The walls were covered in hieroglyphs and statues lined the walkways. Rare metals and precious stones adorned them. Tables were placed throughout with bodies on them, many of the bodies in various stages of mummification. Some of the bodies looked to be undergoing experiments of unknown intention.

  Four of the men stepped before Ra. “I will not force this on you. You understand that for which you volunteer, and it is no easy thing for me to do to my brothers. Your sacrifice will be rewarded in the afterlife if you proceed. I give you this last chance to withdraw and will think no less of you if you choose to do so,” Ra said to them.

  None of the men walked away. Their dedication to the order and to their high priest was unshakable. They volunteered for what was to come and knew that this would end their lives. Still, they stood firm. They considered it an honor to be chosen. Ra motioned to four nearby tables and each of the men went to one and laid on it.

  Ra stood in between the four tables and closed his eyes. Black tendrils of energy swirled around him and begin to coalesce into four tentacles. One moved towards each man and as it approached the end of the tentacle grew and spread out, covering the person on the slab. The men arched upwards as the energy enveloped them. They looked as if they were screaming but no sound could be heard. The energy withdrew to Ra then extended again to four of the large statues. The statues were of Anubis, half again taller than Ra and were armed with a khopesh in each hand. As the energy enveloped the large stone constructs, their eyes lit up and they began to move. “It is done. Our brothers will stand as sentinels over the dead. They give their humanity to be our watchmen,” Ra told the assembled.

  A short while later, the doorway to the sanctum shook and a sound akin to thunder echoed across the sanctum of the dead. It shuddered a second time then exploded inwards sending chunks of stone flying through the room. tall woman flanked by two men strode boldly in. The family resemblance to Ra was obvious. Behind her were numerous others. She strode confidently into the sanctum and her followers came in behind her. They spread out and crossed the narrow bridges over the chasm as they approached the central platform. They equaled the number of Ra’s priests and were as well armed, obviously prepared for a fight.

  “Mother, we do not have to battle. I do not wish to commit matricide and I implore you, stop this rebellion and join me. Unify our forces and let the priesthood thrive. We squander time and energy with senseless violence when we could be furthering our mastery of life and death,” Ra told her. “Yield to me as your high priest and bow,” Ra told her, his voice echoing with power as he did so.

  She laughed. “Your powers of command do not affect me, and I have hardened my faithful against them as well. No son. I will not share power with you. You will die by my hands and I will wield that power alone as it should be. I helped you gain the power you have, and I will take that power for myself. The time for talk is over,” his mother told him.

  The fight was brief and one-sided. Neith and her followers stood no chance against Ra. Ra extended his hands and that same black energy flowed into his priests. They became bolstered by it, their strength and speed reaching levels no human should be able to perform. His priests and guardian constructs dispatched her followers with ease and soon only Nei
th remained, her supporters dead or dying on the floor around her. What spells she managed to cast during the heat of the battle bounced harmlessly off an invisible barrier.

  He approached her and drew his blades. She did the same as his priest formed a circle around the two.

  “You wish to fight me? I taught you to use a sword. You stand no chance and should have killed me when you had the chance,” she said.

  Ra merely smiled and stood still.

  She launched at him, her speed and agility more than the eyes of the priest could follow but every attack, every thrust, easily parried by Ra.

  “How? You have never been faster than me. You have never been able to defeat me with a blade,” she said, the worry in her voice was evident.

  “Much has changed while you were at the sanctuary at Karnak building your rebellion. While you were preoccupied with taking the power you knew existed, I busied myself finding new power, new magic. I have shed the mortal coil. I am as the gods that people worship,” he told her.

  He called forth his Divine Light and she had no defense against it. The beam coalesced in front of him, as a cloud of bright energy then focused and shot forth as a single beam, striking her squarely in the chest. Neith tried fruitlessly to resist it. Her own shields collapsed quickly to his power.

  Soon, she was broken and begging for her life. “My son, I had no idea your power had grown so much. Spare me and teach me,” she pleaded.

  “I will spare you mother, but I will not teach you. You had your chance and cast it away. Place her on the altar,”” he told her.

  “he ordered.

  Ra’s priests took the woman to the altar as she kicked and tried to fight her way free but to no avail. She was too weakened after the attacks by her son. They strapped her to the stone slab, cut away her clothing and anointed her with holy oils.