The Warrior's Beckoning

by Patrick Howard

  I picked the book up, and I began to read through it. I had heard about some of the events, or at least their cover stories. As I read, the words felt like memories, flashing through my mind as if I had been there.

  Log 1

  This took place in ancient times.

  Unbeknownst to the common knowledge of man lie beings shrouded in legend and myth. Long have they sought a direct conduit into our world, and long has been their struggle. Whilst the Lord remains vigilant, man is tested of his faith. Herein, the encounter from the scribe’s eye.

  CLAD IN PLATE armor with swords and shields, four knights approached, their silver armor shining beneath the moonlight. Two aged men in white robes stood before me, bearded and experienced. Each held a staff, and each staff seemed to react to the moon’s midnight gaze. A pretense immersed itself within the night, and I knew it followed these men. Or me. They would serve a purpose not their own.

  “Scribe,” the eldest of the sages said to me. “I know full well what you sense, even now. An encroaching darkness is forcing itself into your mind.”

  To this, I merely gave a nod.

  “You are chosen,” said the other sage. “You often wonder which you would choose, light or dark. However, your choice was made in another time.”

  I knew of what he spoke, though I thought I could hide from it. Evidently, I might only face it. In my right hand I held a book, the record of all of my encounters and all that I had foreseen. The air around us grew colder and colder. Whispers in the dark emerged from the shadows. The time was nigh.

  “We are out of time, my friend.” The first sage motioned to the knights, who turned toward the unknown, shields and swords raised. They were the only barrier between us and the atrocities that awaited us.

  “There is no escaping this?” I asked the sages. In unison, they shook their heads.

  “We must stand our ground…and pray,” the eldest sage said as he turned to stand by the knights. “Stay behind us. If we cannot overcome this, you must not fight. May the Lord be with you, Scribe.”

  With that, the first wave crashed into the knights.

  We were cornered in a ravine. I had arrived there in response to a dream, a calling. The others had shared the same dream and now might share the same fate. The knights, standing side by side, pushed the creatures back with their shields and drove their swords into them. The first creatures were small and weak but vast in number. The ravine funneled their numbers toward us.

  The water in the ravine had dried up. The sages raised their staves, which glowed bright before releasing bolts of light into the mass of darkness. Shrieks and roars filled the air, and we glimpsed a visage not meant to be looked upon by mortals. An endless wave of darkness, flowing and ebbing, came for us. The knights were strong and valiant; they would not give up. I lost count of how many creatures they had slain before they began to weaken and be pushed back.

  The sages released more bolts of light, dispersing many creatures. First came the small humanoid creatures, their limbs thin, their bodies short and frail. Next came the canine forms with eyes as red as blood, revealing the evil sweltering inside them.

  With a quick bash of the shields and a fast swipe of the long swords, the knights cut down more creatures. It was all they could do to hold their ground. No, they would not overcome this darkness. They knew it, yet they fought on. Why? Perhaps simply to know that they had fought and stood against evil. They would not give in, even as defeat loomed over them.

  One knight was knocked to the ground; the sage behind him drove his staff into the attacking dog and helped the knight to his feet. They worked as a unit, each caring for the others, each covering the others’ weaknesses.

  The battle paused unexpectedly.

  The creatures before us withdrew, yet a shadow still loomed over us. This was not victory, just the calm before the storm. Something was coming, something massive. Wearily the knights stood, still ready to fight. The aura that surrounded the sages was dim now, their energy spent. Distant whispers carried by the wind crept toward us…toward me.

  In that moment, it became very clear: it wanted me. Valiant and brave as they were, my protectors could not defend against this entity—not weakened as they were. A fog rushed in and surrounded me. Whispers came from every direction, echoing pain and sorrow.. Slowly the fog attempted to meld with me.

  A knight rushed to my aid, only to be thrown to the ground. The sages cast their remaining energy, which dissipated in the dense fog. There was no saving me. Only one option remained. My skin became as gray as the fog around me, and thoughts of destruction and despair rushed through my mind. I had only one hope left; I had to focus hard to maintain control over my body and carry out the deed. Success! I removed my dagger from its scabbard and plunged it into my heart. I felt no pain. I was already fading. I felt the blade pierce my heart and saw the blood flowing from the wound, yet I was at peace. I would not let myself become an instrument of evil.

  I fell to my knees, and my heart stopped. It was so cold, so dark, and with nothing below me to stop my fall, I pitched forward.

  A voice called out to me. “You have chosen the light.”

  I closed my eyes, smiling. I had chosen the light.

  Log 2

  This occurred within the same century.

  Mankind has long forgotten the desperate struggle fought so hard and so long ago. He is unwilling to gaze upon his zenith. The Fallen had come, and the battle was set. In the midst of the Fallen rose a warrior who would marshal a mighty army and hold back the demons, one man, chosen by God to lead.

  THE VILLAGE I had come to defend burned around me as the chaotic symphony of battle enveloped my heart. There would be no retreat, no surrender. If we did not prevail here, mankind would meet its collective end and endure slavery at the hands of the Fallen. My armor was red chain mail. A coif covered my head, and white plated strips hung over my armor, each point painted red. One of the Fallen charged, and I brought my two-handed claymore down upon him. He blocked me with his own sword but was knocked to the ground.

  I had power over them, even the power to command some of them. Those I knew would fight to aid humanity, I took to my side; the others I cut down. On my orders, they rescued the few villagers that remained, charging into burning homes, boldly and without hesitation. My army formed a protective barrier around the villagers who were gathered at the center of the town. I cut down each of the fallen that attacked me. Moving with fluid motion, I spun with my sword outstretched, slicing into a Fallen’s throat. Crouching, I dodged another one’s attack and kicked him in the stomach. There were so many.

  Soon the last of the Fallen was slain, and those that remained had joined my forces. With this new army now marshaled, I readied my forces to march upon the lands to the north and free the people from the demons that had seized them and their land. The Lord had chosen me for this task. I would be a king, though only for this war.

  Gathering my army, both mortal and angel, I gave my orders.

  “I will ride to the city alone.” As I spoke, I turned to meet their collective gaze.

  “Sire, it will be a trap,” said my general.

  “No doubt, my friend,” I said. “However, we will spring a trap of our own. While I approach the city, you will gather in the Forest of Anguish, the place where the demons first entered our world—and the place where we shall dispatch them.”

  “What of the Fallen that joined you, sire?” asked one of the angels.

  “You will be treated as mortals. Should your faith be true, you will be allowed to return to Heaven, where it will become a matter between you and God,” I said. The angels nodded. They now formed the bulk of my army. Heavily armored, wielding massive swords, they would be my vanguard. The men wore chain mail and wielded bastard swords and kite shields.

  The battle drew near. I would initially be separated from my army. They would be in the Lord’s hands…as would I.

  Emboldened by that knowledge, I mounted my steed. My horse was arm
ored with chain mail that matched my own. My general handed me the banner, a red flag with a white cross. With a nod, I rode off into uncertainty, knowing only that God’s will would be done, and that would have to be enough for me.

  The countryside was barren of life, and most of the towns equally desolate. Scattered survivors picked through what remained. My heart wanted to reach out to them, but I could not delay, knowing that their fate would only worsen if I did. I pressed on. So much pain, so much sorrow, and for what purpose? It seemed devoid of all logic. Perhaps it was unique to my heart; destruction was something I could not abide. I could never stop caring.

  After a long ride, I arrived at the demons’ keep. It was a fortress! A massive wall enclosed the city, with a canyon surrounding the wall. Two golems stood at either side of the gate. I placed my banner next to theirs to show my intentions; I was there to negotiate. The gate opened slowly, and the bridge was set. I dismounted and told my horse to return home. A loyal and disciplined beast, it would carry back the message I had placed in the bags on its back.

  I crossed the bridge and entered the fortress. There were people everywhere, all of them giving me quick and pained glances. I could see the suffering in their eyes and their strides. What I did not see were any demonic forces present here, save the two guards at the front.

  A man quickly approached me. “Sire,” he said. “This is a trap, set for you. You are meant to meet your demise here.”

  I replied with a nod.

  “Come with me. It is not safe here.”

  I followed him through the city, which was crowded with people working fearfully. They were being held there, like slaves.

  “The demons’ army has left for the lands you just liberated, and they intend to cut through the Forest of Anguish.”

  “My army is waiting for them there,” I said. We approached a tall tower. “Where is the demon lord?”

  “He has left to vanquish your army. I fear that without you, they will not hold for long. He will arrive before his army,” the man said.

  “Then why have you brought me here?” I asked as I gazed at the tower.

  “Assassins are coming to end your life. We cannot exit the city,” he said. “However, we can follow the same path as the demon lord. He uses this tower to travel vast distances. He can move to wherever his shadow is cast.”

  We entered the tower and climbed its spiraling stairway, carved out of the black stone of the tower. There were no windows and no light, save for the torch my companion carried. “I have seen him use this method to travel before. You must place yourself in a fluid state, focusing on your spiritual form…not your flesh,” he said.

  At the top of the tower, we reached an altar. “Stand there.” He pointed, and I complied. I began to meditate, feeling my physical frame shift…then break briefly into a purely spiritual form. In a flash, I flew across the landscape. The demonic army was marching. A great shadow loomed over the forest. My own army was hidden well; the enemy had not located them. Not yet.

  I felt myself hurtling through nothingness, as if in a dream, and then suddenly I was standing before my army. Cheers followed their shocked glances.

  The forest’s name was well deserved. It was made up of gnarled, black trees, devoid of all sense of home. Yet some light shone within its dark aura—the light we cast and reflected. Hope shone brightly, and we were its mirrors.

  “Sire!” my general said to me as he approached. “The demon lord has entered the Forest of Anguish and dispatched our rear guard. What are your orders?”

  “Form a defensive line facing north. That is where the demons march. I will face the demon lord personally, along with the aid of our most powerful angel,” I said, holding out my hand to Ahadiel. He picked up his sword and walked by my side. “Each of you will care for the warrior next to him; we operate as a single unit for a singular purpose. May God’s will be performed today. Go with faith.”

  The men roared and took up their formation. Ahadiel and I went in the opposite direction. The demon lord was said to be extremely powerful. Could a mortal and an angel overcome him? I would soon find out.

  “Ahadiel, I will battle him first. If he should overcome me, you will be the faithful’s last hope,” I said to him as we entered a clearing. Nodding, Ahadiel stopped at the tree line; I kept walking.

  Across from us stood the demon lord, a massive figure. Every part of him inspired terror. His flesh, hidden by heavy black plate armor serrated on the torso and gauntlets, emanated a black aura. He stood eight feet tall, over two feet taller than I, with a broad form and powerful presence. His eyes glowed sinisterly from behind a misty black veil; his breath as cold as I imagined his heart to be. He wielded a massive bastard sword, its black blade etched with symbols. His armor bristled with spikes at the knees, shoulders, and elbows.

  I could have sworn I heard his armor whispering to me, but I had not come to be dismayed; I had come to challenge the demon. And challenge it I would! Raising my sword, I prepared to charge. The sword that I wielded seemed at first glance to hold no special attributes. It appeared plain and ordinary, seemingly just as any other. As I gripped it and held it high, however, it began to glow. My sword called out to his sword, challenging it.

  “You will not prevail, King,” the demon lord shouted in a voice filled with such hate that it would make most men fall to their knees, its endless echo piercing their courage. But…I…would…not. I…could…not…

  “I will stand against you to whatever end!” I cried, my voice filled with defiance. The demon lord laughed. I drew strength from his mocking laughter. My aura strengthened, and I charged him directly. There could be no hesitation, no doubt. Action and reaction. The time for thought was over.

  I swung my sword, thrusting toward his chest. He blocked my blow, but to his surprise, he was pushed back slightly.

  “Humph. You are more powerful than you appear,” he said, almost with respect. Pushing his sword forward, he knocked me back. I recovered quickly, swinging for his side. Again he blocked and pushed me back. He brought his sword down on me, and I blocked him. He was incredibly powerful. My strength slowly gave in, until I could feel the cold of his blade as it neared me. “You are resilient, yes, but just a mortal nonetheless. I shall consume your people.”

  Ahadiel looked on, just as I had ordered him. All around us, we heard the sounds of war—swords clashing, soldiers screaming, and demons roaring. What would happen if I lost this battle? Would Ahadiel be able to defeat the demon lord? Would my army prevail? Behind the demon, I saw the corpses of my men piling up, stripped of all honor, disgraced. Such would be the fate of my people if the demon gained entrance to my world through me.

  I could not allow it. Mustering what strength I could, I pushed his blade back, much to his surprise.

  “What’s this?” the demon asked in shock. Our eyes met.

  “I will allow you to go no farther!” I said, pushing him back yet again. We held our swords high, our eyes still locked. In that moment, I realized that he gained strength from my fighting. Was I fighting for victory or from victory? I sheathed my sword and looked to Ahadiel, nodding at him. “There will be no glory for either of us today, demon,” I said to him, in peace. He lunged, driving his sword into my stomach. With a smile, I grabbed the hilt and drove it deeper into my own flesh. The demon lord was puzzled…until Ahadiel drove his sword into the demon. I had denied myself the glory of taking the victory, though the victory following the struggle would be told.

  “Be at peace, my friend,” said Ahadiel. I fell to my knees. The demon released his grip on his sword and fell beside me. It all went black as I lay on the ground.

  I did not need to win that battle; God had already done so. A light beckoned to me. I was home.

  Log 3

  This occurred during the Civil War era.

  The war is often waged through dark influences that chip away at one’s will. From these dark influences stems possession. A spiritual war rages as the depth of love is tested.
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  RIFLE IN HAND, I shadowed their movements. They had my son. I was afraid of what I might find; even before that night, rumors of dark rituals had circulated. I stayed low, moving under the bushes where possible. The captors had finally stopped and had joined a large camp on a flat area before me. As I watched, everything came back to me, memories from earlier in the night when they had taken my son.

  He had been sleeping in his room. We had a large home, two stories and six rooms in total. Just recently, we had taken in a young drifter. Having no money, he performed basic farmhand chores in exchange for room and board. My wife and my daughter seemed to be at peace with him, and that was good enough for me.

  One night he woke me. “I am so sorry, sir. I should not have stayed here. I have endangered you, not protected you as I had hoped,” he said frantically.

  “What is it?” I asked, puzzled. The look in his eyes was terror and resignation.

  “They are coming for me,” he replied.

  “Who?” I asked. Lightning ripped across the sky, and the wind blew the doors open. A window shattered. In that moment, I felt something, some power beyond my understanding. I doubled over, the hair on my body standing straight out. I could not control my breathing, and I could not move. A black cloud loomed over me, laughing and menacing.

  The drifter was nowhere to be seen. Had he been killed? Had he run away at the first sign of the cloud? I had no idea and no time to think about it. “Who…what are you? Stay away from my family!” I cried out. The laughter echoed from everywhere.

  “I already have them,” said the sinister voice. Then I saw them—my wife and my daughter, hand in hand with the dark entity! Small, imp-like shadows stood behind them. My wife gave me a strange look, and I saw that she was no longer herself; there was evil inside her. My daughter was similarly possessed. But my son was in the arms of a cloaked figure, and he was still slumbering, seemingly still safe for the moment.

  Though I feared what would happen if my son awakened, I could not stop myself from crying out, “Nooooooooooo!” The pain was too great.