The Prophet Box-Set: Books 1-4
Page 30
This woman had let it happen.
“He said that our time …,” she tried again, swallowing hard and trying to stuff the tears back into her throat. “Our time is over. He said our false God’s time is no more.”
The blue faded out and the green returned, so that the High Priest was the focal point again.
“Would you like to see more?” the First asked.
“Does it continue like this?”
“Yes, my Holy. She was distraught, to say the least.”
“Where is she now?” the High Priest asked.
“She’s under surveillance.”
“Was she allowed to return home?”
The First Priest shook his head. “No. We thought it best to monitor her under our supervision at Corinth’s Shrine.”
The High Priest remained still for a few moments, that awkward silence taking hold again. Then, as if remembering the second Disciple, his eyes lit up some. “Have you heard from the Old World?”
The First nodded again. The only good news in all of this, if it could even be considered that. He didn’t know any longer, because he didn’t understand everything that was happening. What he saw, what seemed important to him, was what just occurred in their southern province. This new woman on the other side of the world? The First didn’t care about her in the slightest, nor the Disciple they had sent to gather her.
Yet, if the High wanted to talk about her, then the First would oblige. He wanted nothing to do with leading any longer. “The Disciple apprehended the woman about five hours ago.”
“He did?” A slight raise in the High’s eyebrows.
“Yes, my Holy.”
“That is good news. I would like you to put this Disciple in direct contact with me. Can you do that?”
“Of course, your Holiness. If that is your wish.”
“It is. I would like to speak with him personally.”
The First nodded, not wanting to venture his next question, but knowing he had to. This whole conversation seemed surreal, as if the High Priest wasn’t actually here—his mind somewhere else, and only a robotic shell continuing this conversation. “Your Holiness, what would you like to do about the weapon?”
“He told us our time is over … that’s what this woman relayed, right?”
The First nodded.
“Has his war started yet?”
“No, my Holy.”
“Well, after what we’ve seen the past two days, I believe it will. Perhaps it already has, while we had this conversation. Either way, a lot of death is coming. Let me speak to this Disciple, and let the weapon have his war. We will see what happens. Like I said, we were lucky before, perhaps we won’t be this time.”
The green image disappeared, leaving the First Priest alone in the black box.
Like I said, we were lucky before, perhaps we won’t be this time.
The words ran through the First’s mind again.
He’d heard the High say something similar before, but the First hadn’t understood it. He didn’t understand it now, either. What had they been lucky about? They had beaten back a warrior, a ruthless one who wasn’t afraid to walk her followers into certain death if it furthered her cause. That’s exactly what she’d done at the Nile.
Luck? What did luck have to do with any of it? Corinth had delivered them, and He would now as well.
And this business with the Disciple and this woman who might be another weapon? The First didn’t understand … and to him, the High Priest’s words near the end were what really mattered.
Emergency message, his nanotech said, interrupting his thoughts.
Maybe the High had been right. Maybe the war had already begun.
The Summoning didn’t happen at the exact same time across the entire globe. That would have been ridiculous, by any standard. It did happen, though, within a few hours from start to finish. If there was a finish, which technically, there wasn’t.
The world erupted, and it started in the One Path first.
The people of the One Path lived in the sky, similarly to how those of the True Faith lived beneath the ground. The technicalities of this were known to them, taught in schools and by families, much like the Old World taught that to make a car move, one had to pour gasoline into its tank.
Their cities were unlike any to ever be built before, just as the True Faith’s were. That was necessary, though, a function of the situation they had put themselves in. Within the True Faith, the situation had been thrust upon them through the Reformation, but the One Path chose to live in the sky.
It seemed a good decision for all involved, and if truth be told, it allowed the One Path’s people to look down (no pun intended) on all other Ministries. If the True Faith thought their cities stretching down into the earth were something to marvel at, it was only because the fools couldn’t stick their necks above ground to look at the wonders the One Path had created.
Their cities were separated by nothing but open air. The cities themselves consisted of hovering buildings. While they lacked the size of other Ministries, they made up for it in majesty. Hundreds of thousands of egg like shapes floating above the clouds, looking down on only white water drops. The One Path sat over what was once known by all as the Indian Ocean, but each Ministry had a different name for it now. Capsules, which were a single passenger mode of transportation, took most people from one place to another—there were very few walkways connecting anything. There could have been, of course, but that always struck the One Path as a bit too easy.
The One Path’s travel involved personal capsules coming to them, and then delivering them, and only them, to wherever they desired. It was all quite personalized and technically brilliant.
The Summoning began first inside the One Path. Blood spilled first among the clouds, but quickly dripped down to Earth. A kid named Tidus started it, though given what he ended up doing, it would probably be best to call him a young man. He was 17 years old and the Blood of the Touched ran through him just as it did his father. Nineteen years previous, his father met a man, and that man told him the truth. About both what happened in the past, and what was to happen in the future.
The man’s name was Rhett Scoble. Tidus’s father—Rorse—never forgot the name. Tidus never would either, not as long as he lived. Nor would he forget David Hollowborne’s name, though Tidus wouldn’t get the chance to meet him.
Rhett Scoble had taught Rorse what to expect, and Rorse passed the information down to his son. It wasn’t much to go off, but Rorse held unshakable faith. He had met Rhett Scoble, and knew the truth in his bones.
“You’ll know it,” he’d said over and over. “You’ll know when it’s here.”
Tidus hadn’t necessarily believed his father, though. Of course, he never doubted the Blood of the Touched; no, he felt his blood itch from time to time in a way that other people simply couldn’t understand. He knew it meant the one they served—David Hollowborne—was ‘working’. What Titus doubted was that he’d know when the time arrived.
“Trust me,” his father had said. “David will make sure we all know.”
His father turned out to be right.
On the day the war began, Tidus knew before anyone else.
He woke up in the One Path Ministry—the same place he’d awoken in his entire life. He followed his normal morning ritual, having no idea things were about to change drastically for him and the rest of the world. At 17, Tidus was just beginning Seminary as was expected of all One Path males. He didn’t believe, of course, but his father taught him belief had nothing to do with the everyday structure of their life. Belief involved the future, and their day to day was just ensuring that they made it to such a future.
The morning death broke out across the world, Tidus said goodbye to his father and walked out of his apartment. His dad made no comment on what would happen, and Tidus later thought he hadn’t known any more than his son. The two had been blind up until the moment it came—the moment the future finally arrived.
The day continued on as usual until just after the sun’s highest point. That’s when Tidus first thought something might be different, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what.
It was his blood. He knew that much, though it wasn’t itching as it had in the past. This didn’t feel like the Prophet was working. That had always been a slight annoyance, if somewhat pleasant. Like a light tickle, something that you sort of wished would stop, but also secretly hoped it might continue on forever. This … this was different.
Tidus stepped outside of his Seminary classroom and into the hallway. The open air above him was still, Tidus looked at the floor and saw only white clouds beneath him—though they were only background to his mind’s thoughts. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and his father’s voice came to him.
You’ll know when it happens. I promise you that. Rhett told me the same.
How many times had his dad said such things? Countless over the years.
And what do I feel now? Tidus wondered.
The answer that returned was simple, yet perhaps the most profound thing the young man had ever thought in his life.
Power.
It filled him like water in a cup, and as would eventually happen if that water continued flowing, he thought the power might overflow its vessel. His palms were sweating and his fingers twitching slightly. He opened his eyes and saw his left knee bouncing up and down.
Tidus had never touched drugs, had only heard of them in the most roundabout ways, so he couldn’t compare what he felt to imbibing substances. His body was growing warmer, and he began to understand the moment was upon him. The one he and his father had waited for their entire lives. He needed no other explanation, nor would he have accepted one. Tidus couldn’t have walked back into his classroom and told his professor why he felt such truth, no more than a man could describe the color blue. He simply knew it.
Tidus did only one thing before beginning a war that quickly spread across the globe.
He called his father. Despite almost perfect knowledge that the day had arrived, Tidus was still a young man and needed reassurance.
He walked outside and stepped into his capsule, only blue sky above him.
As soon as the capsule closed, Tidus saw his father looking back at him, and knew immediately he’d been right. His father had been waiting, wanting to give permission.
“This is it,” Rorse said, a large smile across his face. “Today is the day.”
“What do I do?” Tidus asked.
Rorse shook his head, not hiding his smile at all. “No, no. You know what to do. Nothing changes. We’ve gone over this more than enough, and you’re going to perform flawlessly, okay?”
Tidus nodded, his hands still jittery and the warmth in his body not subsiding an inch. He allowed himself a smile though, the warmth in his chest spreading to his mouth. Because his dad was right. They knew what to do. Rhett Scoble had told them, years and years ago.
“I love you,” Tidus said.
“I love you too, son. Be bold but be safe. I expect to see you tonight.”
Tidus stepped out of his capsule and back into the school. He walked to his classroom and ignored the professor’s disapproving look. He sat down in his chair and let the power continue building. He heard no words, only saw the people in class with him.
His father had been waiting 20 years for this moment. And how long for Tidus? Since he was 10?
And all of it, every single bit, had been right. The hiding. The secret talks. The knowing that if anyone else ever found this out, the two of them would surely die. It had all been completely right, and the moment was here, the one that would prove it.
All the people around him, Tidus had put up with them his whole life. He’d listened to their sermons and their doctrine and on and on and on. He’d hid who he was, what he believed, because the people in this very class would have killed him if they knew. Killed him. For believing differently than they.
Killed his father, too. Their society was predicated on One belief. One Path. Anything else was to be discarded as false, a lie. That meant Tidus had been living a lie his whole life, and now, the day of reckoning had come. Real joy resided in that for Tidus, because these people who had kept him and those he loved from living life as they wanted … they all would now pay.
Now and forever.
Tidus grinned wide, and somewhat maniacally.
“Is something funny?” the professor asked.
The smile touched Tidus’s eyes—the true sign of happiness.
He stood from his chair and walked to the front of the classroom. The professor didn’t move or say a word, obviously confident in his ability to rule the class. Tidus didn’t stop, though. He walked right up to the man and shoved his thumbs deep into the professor’s eyes.
They popped like cherries, sending blood onto his cheeks and streaming down Tidus’s thumbs.
He was still smiling as the body dropped to the floor.
The First Priest immediately left the black box. He listened to the nanotech message as he stepped from the lightless coffin.
Attacks across provinces.
What kind? he responded.
Person on person. Violence is extreme.
Bring the First Council to chambers. Have holographic replays visible.
The First Priest walked across the campus, his feet moving swiftly enough that if anyone saw him, they would immediately know something was wrong. It didn’t matter. If they didn’t already know how wrong things were, they would shortly. The First Priest didn’t think there was any way to hide this. They had moved past that.
He entered the Council’s chamber, another Priest already there.
“Are the others coming?” he asked, not bothering to step up to his chair but standing down in the chamber where Raylyn Brinson had sat.
“They should be, yes.”
The walls lit up all around them, the Corinth statues the only objects blocking the view.
“Holographs, damn it!” the First shouted.
Three holographic images floated down from the ceiling, a voice speaking as they did. “If your Holiness wishes to understand the magnitude of what’s happening, it is necessary to see both active images as well as entire cities.”
The First shook his head, hating the impudence, but what could he do about it? Get mad at a computer?
He backed up slowly, taking in the images before him and moving up to his usual chair. He could see everything better from up here, though as his mind made sense of the images, he wondered if he actually wanted that. To see everything.
The High Priest had wanted to see nothing, only to speak to his Disciple. The First began thinking the High might have the right idea.
The three other Priests entered the room at the same time, all of them immediately freezing when they looked at the chamber below.
“No,” the woman said.
The others were quiet.
They all knew about the compound’s disaster, but this … this was worse.
“Explain the walls,” the First Priest said.
The images were changing quickly, but each ten feet showed a different video. All of them violent. Deadly. People were bleeding out on platforms, having been desperately running outside of buildings in hopes of finding a transport. Now they stared up at the SkyLight, blood oozing from their mouths.
Other screens showed people actually being thrown out of transports. Fifty or more people simply falling silently through the sky. Chills ran up and down the First Pries
t’s body as he watched. The people fell from his view, but not from his mind, because he knew where they were heading. To the molten rock below, where they might bounce off a bridge or two before being liquefied.
“The walls are showing you different areas across the Ministry. We are calculating a violent attack at a rate of one every four seconds right now. Ten minutes ago, it was one every minute. Current predictions believe that violence will soon reach a rate of two attacks per second in the next 20 minutes.”
“The Holographs?” a Priest asked.
“Those are the three largest cities,” the voice said. The holographs grew larger, taking up most of the space in front of the Priests. The walls behind dimmed.
The First Priest looked across the three holographs and felt his temperature dropping. A cold sweat broke out across his brow, and all of the prayers he’d given to Corinth over the course of his life were forgotten.
The three cities were burning. Fire streaked up the buildings, reaching even the SkyLight at the Earth’s crust—blackening and breaking it, so that darkness fell down on the inhabitants below. He saw figures falling (being thrown, his mind corrected him) from buildings, so many that he couldn’t possibly count them all. Transports crashed into the same buildings, and into each other. The First Priest watched a large one, with perhaps 500 passengers on it, slam directly into the SkyLight. The holographs’ green lights showing the miniaturized transport crumbling as the back side continued its upward trajectory. The wrecked vehicle hung there for a second, and then gravity took hold. It fell back into the sky and then down to meet all those already dead.
“How many cities is this happening to?” his woman counterpart asked.
“Calculations show over 50%.”
“And why not the others?”
“Calculations do not show,” the voice said.
“YOU KNOW WHY!” the First Priest screamed, whipping around on the woman. “BECAUSE THE WEAPON HASN’T FUCKING SPREAD THERE YET!” He stared, heat finally pushing back against the cold in his chest. Angry heat, though he didn’t know who to direct it at. The other four Priests looked back at him, though none said a word. The First looked down at his feet. “The cities not under siege, what are their populations?”