by James Somers
The last image I remember, though, was the face of the prophet. Ezekiah was staring down at me. My eyes locked with his. I desperately hoped that I might cling to life, but I knew life was fleeing from me. Then, the strangest thing happened. He smiled at me. I could see no malice there, no feigned emotion; only kindness radiating from this man whom I had thought a moment before to kill. I carried that curiosity with me as oblivion tore me away from life.
MIRACLE
Tobias’ hand trembled only slightly as he watched the young woman fall before him. She had moved so fast, like a blur. For a moment, he had thought she was merely extending her hand in order to take hold of Ezekiah’s outstretched hand.
There had been a brief moment, seconds before, when Tobias had seen what she was going to do. He had assumed it was only paranoia producing the thought. Now, he realized that he had actually seen her attack in perfect detail just before it had occurred. He had raised the revolver late for the premonition, but just in time to stop the actual event transpiring.
No one else had seemed to see the glint of steel in her hand as she approached Ezekiah. Even now, looking at the prophet’s bewildered expression, Tobias saw that the man still did not understand what had happened. The guards were looking at him rather than the attacker, as though this boy had mistakenly shot an innocent young woman in his zeal to protect the man that had rescued him from a massacred village.
But as quickly as the woman fell, the truth was revealed. The long, bejeweled dagger clanged loudly against the rock, having fallen from her hand. Ezekiah knelt beside her, looking into her face. The guards moved in around them curious to see the woman assassin in her last moments, and perhaps to be sure that she did not strike out one last time at the prophet before expiring.
Tobias simply stood there. The gun dropped to his side. He knew his aim had been true. His father had trained him with the weapon even when he had not yet been trained with the sword. It was one of his father’s prized possessions; a relic from the old world. Tobias had retrieved it from the lock box under his parent’s bed before the house was set ablaze.
He had never killed a person before. Tobias watched the scene unfolding before him, but he felt strangely disconnected from it all. The woman’s tunic was stained heavily from blood pumping out of the wound beneath. He had aimed for her heart. Ezekiah was smiling down at her full of pity for her lost soul. That was so like the man who had, only days before, led Tobias to place his faith in Elithias, just as his father and sister had done before him.
Oddly, the girl had managed to smile back; her eyes growing bright just before life escaped them. She was dead. Tobias couldn’t be sorry for that. He had protected God’s prophet from almost certain death.
Hudson, the physician, had moved the guards out of the way in order to examine the girl. Ezekiah moved aside as well, but remained on his knees next to her body. “A clean shot to the heart, I’d say,” Hudson said. He turned to Tobias. “Excellent work, young man.”
For a second, most of the people were looking at him, making Tobias feel uncomfortable.
“I have to wonder if this is the same wraith dancer who stole my map,” Ezekiah said.
“Seems like Varen would have wanted that map brought straight away,” Hudson offered. “It’s been too long.”
“He could have sent her back to kill me in case I decided to stand against him claiming the weapons,” Ezekiah said.
Hudson nodded. “That would make sense.” They knelt there silently for a moment longer before standing. Hudson motioned to the soldiers who were standing around as though in a daze; like they still hadn’t registered what had happened. “All right, lads, let’s get the body wrapped,” Hudson said. “We’ll need to take her down into the valley to bury her.”
“No,” Ezekiah said, still staring down at her. He looked around. Every eye was upon him. “Hudson, have her body taken to the castle, to the courtyard.”
Hudson looked at him queerly for a moment. “Are you sure? There’s no place for burial on the mountain.”
Ezekiah seemed to be looking past the man for a moment. Finally he focused on the physician again. “Yes, I’m sure. I can’t explain it, but I am sure.”
The work began in earnest. None of the men wanted to be caught out if the weather happened to turn bad, as it often did on Thorn Mountain. One of the guards approached Ezekiah as he watched the young woman’s body being covered for the trip up the mountain.
“Sir, you haven’t checked the other refugees yet,” he said, keeping a wary eye on the four people still standing in the mouth of the cave. Ezekiah looked at them for a long moment, and then turned back to the soldier. “I feel that Elithias has assured me this woman was the only assassin in our midst.”
The soldier nodded and then went about his business. The refugees whispered among themselves as they prepared for the journey upward. However, Charles separated himself and came to Ezekiah. “Master, I beg your forgiveness for bringing this imposter to the mountain. We had no idea. Only days ago, she helped to save the lives of those you see with me today. Her companion died trying to defend my young daughter who was killed by an ambush of death walkers hiding out among the ruins across the Black River.”
Ezekiah focused on what the man was telling him. “Death walkers, you say? They attacked as a group?”
“Yes,” Charles confirmed. “There were a great many. We started out from Tarris with twice this number, but when we had to divert to the metal bridge at the ruins they came upon us and killed half of our people and some of the horses. This woman and her companion, sent to join us by Felonius, killed a great number of the creatures and enabled our escape over the bridge.”
“I see,” Ezekiah said. “At any rate, there was nothing you could have done. Wraith dancers are expert assassins. This is what they do. You could not have known.”
Charles nodded to the prophet and then rejoined his family as everyone except the soldiers stationed to the base camp began to start up the stairs leading them inside the mountain. Ezekiah caught Tobias by the shoulder as he holstered his pistol. The boy had remained silent throughout the entire ordeal.
“Tobias,” he said. “I am very grateful to you. I’m sure the Lord sent you with me today in order to save my life. Thank you for being faithful in his service.”
Tobias hugged the prophet but did not say anything. When he let go, he watched the body transported past him. Tobias took up the march behind the makeshift pall bearers. Ezekiah bid farewell to the soldiers who would remain, then followed behind.
It was the beginning of the fourth day since the arrival of the refugees and the attempt on Ezekiah’s life by the wraith dancer. Since their journey up the mountain and the mingling of the refugees among the inhabitants of the castle, the attack, the wraith dancer and her exploits during the battle with the death walkers days before had been spread everywhere throughout the castle.
Her body had been placed upon one of the stone tables sitting in the courtyard before the gate, and a guard had been placed to keep it day and night. Hudson had called for the body to be cremated, but Ezekiah could not issue the order. He did not know why.
Hudson had left Ezekiah’s quarters only an hour ago, pleading that the body would see corruption by the fourth day, as was commonly held, and begin to stink. Ezekiah had acquiesced to allowing the body to be burned by noon today. Still, he did not feel well about that decision. His friend had promised to make the preparations and wait for him to come and say something. Ezekiah had thanked him for that. He wanted to at least acknowledge the truth of the rumors concerning her defense of the refugees; even if her mission at Thorn Mountain had been against him personally.
Ezekiah continued in prayer as he had been since Hudson’s departure. He had not expected for any particular thing to happen; only that he might unburden his heart and be drawn to a clear course of action. Instead, while staring at the wall, Ezekiah saw it fall away completely to reveal a green meadow full of yellow and purple flowers blown by the
wind.
In the distance, he saw several people running through the meadow; a picture of joy. As he drew closer in the vision, he saw a woman with two children running behind her. The vision brought him closer still. As the woman crested a low hill turning to face him, Ezekiah saw plainly that this was the woman who had three days ago tried to kill him at the base of the mountain.
Ezekiah drew a deep breath. Was Elithias now showing him the past life of this woman; a vision of how she had lived before coming to kill him? He felt sorrow for her children. Their mother would not return to them.
The woman ran past, in the vision, with her children following. A man ran after them, trying to keep up. Ezekiah strained to see him. Soon the man crested the hill, following the same path as the woman and her children.
Ezekiah supposed that this must be the husband of the woman and the father of her children. He felt that it must be so. He wondered what could have taken this young woman away from her family with the purpose of coming to kill him at Thorn Mountain.
As the vision drew him closer to the man, Ezekiah gasped. He was no longer breathing. The man who appeared in the vision—the husband of the woman and the father of her children—was him. Without any doubt Ezekiah knew that he was not looking at the past but was seeing the future.
As the vision faded, leaving him in his room again, his mind shouted of the impossibility of what he had just witnessed. But his faith in Elithias assured him that all things are possible. With sudden clarity came direction. Ezekiah had already managed to run most of the way toward the main door of the castle without realizing.
When he reached the gate, he was surprised by how many people had come to attend the funeral. Perhaps it was genuine respect for her bravery in the ruins, or perhaps it was only morbid curiosity. Either way, both the courtyard before the gate and beyond it was packed with people.
Ezekiah passed through the gate and found Donavan and Tobias standing together near the pyre. The girl’s body had been laid out there. Her body had been dressed in the robes found within her pack. Even in death, Ezekiah noticed that she was beautiful.
Hudson approached him then and nodded. “It’s time, my friend.”
Ezekiah nodded with a smile and approached the body. Dry wood had been found and placed around the body. Ezekiah could smell the lamp oil saturating the pyre. A torch had been planted in the ground for Ezekiah when he was ready to ignite the wood. However, to everyone’s surprise, the prophet bypassed the torch and climbed up onto the stone table so that he was standing over the woman’s body.
He looked into her face. But instead of a dead assassin, Ezekiah saw the joyous young woman running through the vision given unto him by Elithias. He smiled at her and then addressed the assembled crowd in a loud voice.
“Brothers and sisters, I stand here today because of the mercy of Elithias and the quick thinking of young Tobias here,” Ezekiah said, indicating the boy standing near with Donavan. “As you know already, this woman was sent by the Serpent Kings to take my life. However, we have learned more than we might have expected through the refugees whom she traveled with to get here. While under attack by a swarm of death walkers—certainly one of the signs of Elithias’ soon coming—this young woman defended the lives of those Believers. Her companion was even killed in the process as they sought to save the life of one their children.”
Ezekiah paused to let her deeds sink into the minds of those listening before he continued. “While her attempt on my life was the result of believing the lies of the Serpent Kings, her selfless bravery in that attack was another matter.”
Ezekiah looked down at the woman again as her name came to his mind without warning. He had never heard it spoken by any of the refugees. He closed his eyes, giving silent thanks to Elithias. He knew what had to be done now. Turning again to the crowd, he continued.
“I had thought that today we would all be gathered to this funeral to honor that courageous act before the body was returned to the dust. However, Elithias has shown me his will and now gives this sign unto you to signify that he will have mercy on those he will have mercy.”
Ezekiah reached down to grasp one of the cold hands clasped upon her breast. Then in a loud voice he commanded, “In the name of Elithias, Gwen, arise!”
Instantly her eyes fluttered, and then opened to gaze upon the prophet. But no one else realized what was happening until he tugged her hand. The dead woman sat up to look out upon the assembly. Terror struck the majority of the crowd almost instantly with many of the women fainting where they stood. Horrified cries resounded everywhere among the hundreds present, but Ezekiah ignored them all. He was too preoccupied, staring into the living face of the woman who had just four days earlier tried to kill him; the same woman whom the vision foretold to be the mother of his future children.
BONUS PREVIEW: MILLENNIUM
DESCENDANTS SAGA BOOK FOUR
Coming Summer 2013
Decade
The wind had picked up as roiling clouds came up over Tidus. Fall weather had brought more storms and colder air. Already the leaves of the forest trees were changing colors and falling. Brilliant flakes of yellow, burnt orange and red were swept into tornadic fits, swirling and moving like a motley flock of birds wherever the wind willed.
It was only at certain times of year that Tidus received much rain. Otherwise, the rains came to the mountains in the north. The city enjoyed the blessing of it by way of the river that flowed not far removed from its defensive wall.
These walls had not seen battle in ten years. Following the battle with the army of Anubis, Sophia and I had put together a solid government. The elder council that had been such a burden to her, and her father before her, was nullified.
As Queen, she would rule by her wisdom alone. A cabinet of advisors had been chosen, but they had no real power to rule. No one could supplant the sovereign in Tidus without killing them. At that time, the next in line to the throne would assume control. It was an ancient way, but made for a stronger government when a righteous individual sat at its head.
Following our wedding, six months after Tidus was secured again, I became the King of the Lycans. It had been Sophia’s right and responsibility to choose her husband. And, while the former elder council had hated the idea of a non-Lycan in that role, I applauded her decision. Our union was blessed by the people, especially since the remaining citizens had chosen to remain faithful to Sophia while denying Anubis.
These had fought side by side with elves and trolls and even a vampire, trying to defend their beloved city from those rebels who had gone after Anubis when he called to them. The old way of thinking was dying already by the time we kissed for the first time as husband and wife—king and queen.
Still, I remained more of an advisor in my role. I preferred that Sophia take leadership as her father’s daughter. She was, after all, a Lycan ruling over a Lycan city. I was a Superomancer, but still not a Lycan. I just thought it worked better this way. And, so far, it had.
Oliver and I had never found what had happened to Southresh or Anubis. Neither Arthur Craven or Kron had shown their faces again. At least, those were the hosts we had last known them to have.
As for Southresh, we attempted to track him with the blood bond. However, he remained well hidden. It was possible that he had gone so far away in the world that we simply could not track him. Only the call of Hageddon had allowed Charlotte to know his location in the world from so far away. Perhaps, proximity was required.
At any rate, we had eventually decided that we would wait for both he and Anubis to show their hands first. Then Oliver and I would come for them with the twin swords, Malak-esh. These alone had the power to drive an invading spirit from its host. Unfortunately for the host, they died in the process.
Yet, in these ten years, since the death of Grayson Stone at Tidus and the disappearance of Southresh and Anubis, we had heard nothing. The world began to return to its way. Peace seemed to have sway for now. Apart from the conflicts hum
ans make for themselves with other humans, we saw no war. The Fallen, if they still resided in the physical world, had gone underground.
It had been somewhat surprising how our other problems had resolved themselves. There had been thousands of vampires loosed upon the world during Hageddon’s brief reign through the Romanov tsar in Russia. However, Charlotte and Tom had taken this matter upon their shoulders.
With the backing of Donatus and Laish, Tom and Charlotte had gone back to Russia and reined in the terrible atrocities of the vampires. At first, it seemed they would not accept Charlotte’s leadership over them.
However, this resistance to the daughter of Tiberius had come from only a dozen vampires among the rest. They worked to stir up conflict, but Charlotte and the others quickly hunted these down and destroyed them.
She became a force to be reckoned with in the years following, though Charlotte’s reign was a benevolent one. She and Tom eventually were married and bore one child—a son who would one day rule after them. To everyone’s surprise, the vampires assimilated to the new way of thinking when it came to the remaining Descendant clans. They would cooperate, or face exile for their rebellion.
While some chose not to remain, the majority wanted the benefit that came with belonging. Charlotte and Tom remained in Russia and allowed a Romanov heir to assume power over the human population. They ruled from Greystone instead, after a new dimensional gateway was established linking the realm of vampires to Russia.
As for the slaughter that had become the norm under both Tiberius and Hageddon, the vampires went back to their old ways. They fed upon humans, as they always had, but they did not kill any that were not worthy of death. As had been the case for millennia, most mortals did not know where their wounds originated and, contrary to popular belief, bloodletting wounds always healed within a day.