Broadcast cameras surrounded the stage. He looked up and saw his image on the giant television screen near the top of the stadium. Just as he expected, his execution was being broadcast to every living Gnol on Terrest.
Gnols were spewing and spitting words of fury in his direction. It was obvious that Thourad and Ochalt had swayed the public with propaganda the past week. A deafening roar erupted from the crowd as General Thourad and General Ochalt walked up the stairs of the stage. They both approached Dorange with smiles of victory on their faces. Dorange held their stares with his own stoic gaze. The two generals spun on their heels to address the multitude before them.
“Today, my brothers and sisters,” General Thourad said, his voice echoing throughout the stadium. “Today, we finally bring you justice! Justice for the Gnol that deceived and murdered your god and savior, Koroan Chast!”
So that’s how they sold it, Dorange thought as the crowd erupted with angry cheers.
This time, it was General Ochalt’s turn to speak. “Yes, my brothers and sisters, the Gnol you see before you is a traitor. And what is the penalty for treason?”
The crowd erupted. “Death! Death!”
General Thourad took over the address again. “Yes, it is death! Finally, our master, our savior, our god can rest. His spirit wants vengeance upon this traitor before you!”
A thunderous roar rippled through the crowd once again. They were hungry and wanted blood for blood. Little did they know, Dorange had no part in Koroan’s supposed death. But that didn’t matter. The Gnols wanted someone to blame, and General Thourad and General Ochalt were successful in making them believe that it was Dorange Gar who was responsible.
Without warning, Dorange felt his body become lighter as he was telekinetically levitated into the air. General Thourad and General Ochalt both had their arms outstretched. A glimmer of hope flickered within Dorange. Right before him was proof. Proof that neither Thourad nor Ochalt had the capability to use their combined abilities against him. After all, it took both of them to levitate him to the guillotine. A sense of calm swept over Dorange as he was forced to his knees and his head was invisibly forced through the hole of the guillotine with its razor-sharp blade hanging ominously overhead.
The crowd roared with pleasure. For being an advanced human species, their thirst for blood was uncanny. General Thourad telekinetically locked Dorange’s head in place. Dorange maintained his cool gaze at the two conspiring generals. A pompous smile graced along Thourad’s lips just before he addressed the crowd again. “Any last words, Dorange?” Thourad then walked toward Dorange, bent down, and held the microphone just under Dorange’s mouth.
Dorange remained silent.
“Well . . .” Thourad questioned. “Do you not have any last words? Do you not wish to confess to your people?”
Dorange looked up at Thourad. “You wish for me to confess?”
“Yes, traitor. Confess before your people.”
Dorange began to laugh. It was an arrogant laugh. One that made Thourad and Ochalt look unsettled. He could sense their fear, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. The crowd screamed their boos of displeasure. The rage only seemed to fuel Dorange. He could feel his power within pulsating through his body, energizing him.
He locked eyes with General Thourad. “You . . . you and your accomplice are the ones who should confess. Both of you have dishonored our lord and savior by falsely accusing his chosen heir of the Gnol empire. It is you, both of you, who should be executed - killed for your treason.”
More deafening boos echoed through the stadium.
Thourad shifted anxiously on his feet and let out a nervous laugh as he turned back toward the crowd. “What should we do with this traitor, my brothers and sisters?”
“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
Thourad turned back and looked at Dorange, the screams of the crowd fueling his confidence. “So be it,” he said as he nodded to the executioner to cut the rope.
Dorange closed his eyes and heard the swoosh of the razor-sharp blade as it rapidly descended toward his neck. Just before the blade sliced through, it stopped about inch above his neck. The roaring crowed stopped in stunned silence. Thourad and Ochalt froze in terror, as if they knew Dorange was capable of this.
General Thourad shrieked another order at the executioner. “Shoot him! Shoot him now!”
The executioner stepped forward and pulled his pistol from his holster, pointing it directly at Dorange’s temple. With his eyes still closed, Dorange mentally grabbed hold of the gun and flung it into the crowd. He then propelled the executioner into Thourad and Ochalt. All three of them sprawled down the steps of the stage onto the ground. The guards surrounding the stage raised their rifles at him.
Before they could fire, he broke free from the guillotine. Opening his eyes, he stood to his full height, slowly raising his arms. The rifles lifted from the guards’ grasps and turned, pointing at their heads. The crowd sat stunned. Dorange fed off their power as they began to realize that only one other Gnol had the ability to use his powers in this way, causing a smile to curve along his lips.
By this time, Thourad, Ochalt, and the executioner had made their way back onto the stage. The two generals pulled their sidearms from their holsters and fired. Dorange, still holding the rifles in place, mentally pulled the blade from the guillotine’s sheath. Just before the two plasma blasts penetrated his chest, the blade flew through the air toward him. The blade now acted as shield as the two blasts sparked off of its shiny surface. He turned the blade with the sharp edge facing the two conspiring generals. The generals and the executioner turned to run back down the stage.
Dorange sent the blade hurtling through the air toward them just as they reached the steps. The blade sliced through Thourad’s neck. General Ochalt quickly turned just in time to see his accomplice’s head drop to the stage. Before he could turn back around and run down the stairs, the blade severed his head as well. His headless body rolled into the legs of the executioner, causing him to tumble down the stairs.
The blade whizzed over the executioner’s head. Dorange was beginning to feel the fatigue from using so much power. Nonetheless, he held his focus on the blade, turning it around in midair and hurling it toward the executioner’s neck. Before the executioner could recognize his predicament, the blade stopped, cutting into his neck slightly. Small drops of blood dripped onto the blade.
Dorange, maintaining his invisible hold upon the rifles, walked to the edge of the stage, locking his eyes onto the executioner’s. There was no need to use a microphone this time. He amplified his voice as he spoke. “You dare defy me? I am the rightful heir of the Gnol Empire! I have been chosen by god, Koroan Chast himself. I am your god now!”
The guards and the throng of citizens that had the privilege of witnessing the execution from ground level dropped to their knees in fearful reverence. The citizens seated in the stands all bowed their heads in unison. The executioner, still lying on the ground with the blade cutting into his neck, looked at Dorange with imploring eyes, as if he were a wounded dog begging for mercy from its master.
“You want mercy, do you?” Dorange asked as he mentally let go of the rifles in midair. The guns fell to the ground as he walked down the stairs toward the wounded Gnol. He towered over the soldier and telekinetically pulled the blade from his neck. A sense of relief seemed to wash over the executioner’s face. As soon as it did, Dorange thrust his hand toward the executioner’s neck. Grasping his throat, he lifted the executioner into the air, staring into his eyes. “I am not merciful,” he said. Then he crushed the Gnol’s throat and dropped him to the ground.
Dorange Gar now had the undying, fearful allegiance of the Gnol Empire.
CHAPTER 2: THE BIRTH
Underground rebel base, Terrest. Three weeks later . . .
The room rocked again with another blast from the ground above. Pieces of the ceiling fell upon Celeste Chast’s sweat-drenched hair and face. Dressed in a light blue hospital
gown, she sat up on the medical bay bed, her legs bent and her feet resting on the stirrups at the end of the bed.
“Push!” Anyta ordered as her head raised up from below, meeting Celeste’s crystal blue eyes. Lexis Palmer, Jake’s baby sister, sat next to her mother, assisting.
But Celeste shook her head, squeezing Jake’s hand. Her response triggered Jake’s memories of the past year. It had been an eventful year. His father had told the both of them that they were killed on Gnolom. At first, he didn’t believe his father. But there was too much evidence to deny the fact that he and his precious wife had miraculously been raised from the dead. A piece of that evidence was the fact that they both woke up in the base’s morgue.
Adrian had explained to them that they tried to save their lives by transfusing the juice of the mysterious fruit they had found within Mount Resumpsi on Gnolom into their bodies. However, the transfusion didn’t work, at least not at first. Nonetheless, this still did not explain how Jake and Celeste were able to rise from the dead within the morgue. There had to be something else involved; a catalyst, if you will. Jake, however, was more confused than ever. If he was dead, then why didn’t he remember leaving his body and going to the spirit world as he was taught to believe? In fact, he and Celeste had no memories of the time period between their deaths and their miraculous resurrection.
Were they resurrected and immortal now? That he couldn’t be sure of. After all, they still experienced pain, although now at higher tolerance levels. Also, they still needed to sleep and eat but did not require nearly as much as they used to. As the days and weeks went by, he began to notice an extreme change with his body. Celeste did as well, although her changes were more subtle because of her genetic makeup. Jake, on the other hand, had grown much stronger. Before, he could maybe bench press at best 330 lbs. Now, he was easily pressing 825 lbs. Not for one rep, but for twenty reps! He still had yet to see what he could max. In addition, his senses were sharper. He could hear sounds no one else could hear. He could see details that no one else noticed. What was more, he now had the same telekinetic and telepathic abilities as his wife. He just wasn’t as seasoned.
“Celeste, you need to push now!” Anyta ordered again.
Anyta’s order brought Jake back to the present.
“You’ve been in labor for nearly twenty-eight hours! I don’t know how much more your baby can take,” Anyta barked.
Celeste shook her head again. She was exhausted beyond mortal capacity and was about to reach the breaking point of her transfigured body. Tears began to stream down her face. “I can’t, Anyta. I’m too tired. The pain is unbearable.”
Jake leaned down and whispered in her ear, hoping to give his dear wife comfort and encouragement. “C’mon, Celeste. You’re stronger than this. We’ve been through a lot worse.”
But Jake received a different response than he expected. Celeste squeezed his hand harder, causing him to wince. Her eyes met his. Immediately, he could tell that his words of comfort were actually words of annoyance.
“You try squeezing another person out of your body and see how you feel! Trust me, you haven’t been through worse.”
Jake was about to respond with something about dying and coming back to life, but he held his tongue upon hearing his father chuckle from behind him.
Jake turned his head, too embarrassed to look at his wife. She was right. He definitely had no say in the matter.
Again, the base rocked with another explosion. Jake turned and looked at his father. “Dad, if you need to go, go. She’ll be all right.”
Adrian, looking a little disappointed to miss the birth of his grandson, nodded his head. “Okay, son. Take care of her and that grand-baby of mine.”
“I will,” Jake responded with a smile, giving his father hug. “Take care up there.”
“You know I will. I’ve survived this long in this war. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Dorange Gar kill me before I see my only grandson.”
Jake watched as his father left the infirmary. He turned and looked at his stepmother, who was still trying to get Celeste to push. Concern was draped across her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Wha . . . what’s wrong with my baby?” Celeste asked with panic in her voice.
“The baby is breach. I need to do an external cephalic version.”
“A what?” Jake asked with trepidation.
“I need to turn the baby or he’s not going to make it, and it may even put Celeste’s life in danger.”
Fear swept through Jake like electricity surging through a transformer. He couldn’t lose another child. Celeste lost their first child within her womb after she was killed. After coming back to life, she was not pregnant. But, naturally, nature took its course and she became pregnant again. Even so, he had confidence in his stepmother, who essentially became the Terrestrian’s doctor after the sudden death of Ithel Hopet, who replaced his father’s dear friend, Doc.
“Where’s Nichelle?” Celeste asked. “I need her help.”
“She’s on the surface with Sage and the others defending the base,” Jake replied.
Celeste shrieked in pain from Anyta trying her best to turn the baby within her womb. “Get Nichelle, Jake. Get her now!”
“But I—”
“Just get her!” Celeste barked.
Jake was hesitant to get Nichelle. For some reason, Celeste and Nichelle had had a falling out soon after their rise from the dead. Celeste had told Jake that she felt like she couldn’t trust Nichelle and that Nichelle’s loyalties might have fallen back to the Gnols. Nevertheless, he knew that she needed the comfort of her friend. He quickly nodded and asked for Nichelle by pressing the comlink within his ear. Static crackled with no response. “Nichelle Vlamer, do you copy?”
Nichelle’s voice penetrated through the static. “Copy, Jake.”
“Get down to the infirmary now. Celeste needs you.”
Before Nichelle could respond, Jake heard a massive explosion through the comlink, as well as several plasma blasts. At the same time, the base trembled violently once again. Debris rained over them like ash from a volcano. “Nichelle! Do you copy?”
The comlink crackled again. “I’m on my way, Jake.”
“She’s coming,” Jake said.
Even though she was in insurmountable pain, relief washed over his wife’s face.
Just then, Anyta’s head popped up. “Okay, he’s ready, Celeste. Push now!”
Jake squeezed Celeste’s hand. “C’mon, Celeste. You can do this.”
Celeste’s eyes met his. This time, she nodded her head in agreement. Her son needed her now more than ever. She couldn’t quit now. With all of the energy she could muster, she screamed in agony as she pushed.
“Keep going, Celeste! I’ve got his head. Keep pushing!”
Nichelle rushed in to her other side just as she gave one last push.
A small cry echoed through the infirmary. Anyta arose from her seated position, cradling the precious newborn in her arms. “Say hello to your son,” she said, holding him up for everyone to see. “What will you call him?”
“Calum,” Celeste responded. “It comes from a language from Earth called Latin. It means ‘dove.’ Just like the spirit of God descending in the form of a dove after Christ was baptized.”
Tears of joy erupted from everyone in the room as Celeste reached out for her son. As soon as her hand touched the infant’s head, he stopped crying and opened his eyes wide. Celeste froze with astonishment.
“What is it?” Jake asked.
Celeste looked at her husband with a sparkle of hope in her eyes for the first time in a long time. She reached out, grabbed Jake’s hand, and placed it on their son’s head. In an instant, Jake and the newborn made an instant connection. Yet, it wasn’t a mental connection. It was almost as if the infant knew what he was doing and was aware of everything that was happening around him. No, the connection was a deep, spiritual one. It was a feeling Jake couldn’t describe. He sensed that this child,
his son, was an ancient spirit preserved to come forth in his mortal form at this moment in time.
Another blast startled them from the miracle before them. Calum began crying again almost as if he knew the danger above.
Jake was about to reach for his son and hold him for the first time when a transmission from his father crackled through his comlink. “Jake … get … get everyone out of there now!”
*****
Dorange Gar stood behind his unit of hover tanks with a smile of victory graced along his face. For days now, he had laid siege upon the last stronghold of the rebels on Terrest. Victory was in his grasp. He now had the loyalty of the entire Gnol civilization. And without Koroan Chast and Generals Thourad and Ochalt to stop him, he was about to conquer Terrest. The Terrestrians would finally be slaves to the Gnols and he was about to revel in the deaths of Adrian Palmer and his family.
Raul Sapharius, a large Gnol with toned muscles and dark green eyes and who was promoted to general after the unfortunate deaths of Generals Thourad and Ochalt, spoke from his side. “My Lord, the charges are set. As soon as you give me the order, we will cave in this base, killing or trapping most of its inhabitants.”
“Very well, General,” Dorange responded. “Before I give the order, I will enter the base.”
“But, my Lord?”
“No buts, General!” Dorange snapped. “I’ve waited ages to capture Adrian Palmer and his family alive. I will see to their slow and painful deaths myself. . . .” He paused for a moment. “Plus, there is a package we need to retrieve. It has just arrived.”
“Very well,” Sapharius replied.
“I want five soldiers to escort me in,” Dorange ordered.
Colonel Sapharius waved for several soldiers standing nearby.
Dorange turned to his newly appointed general. “The rebels are retreating. The pathetic survivors will soon surrender. As soon as they do, I will find and kill Adrian Palmer myself.”
Worlds Without End: The Prophecy (Book 3) Page 6