by James Somers
Ethan considered the matter. Seth’s hypothesis seemed plausible. After all he’d experienced, almost anything seemed plausible.
Levi smiled, an epiphany lighting his face. “And they were in Stephen’s throne…they had proximity to the man…if that’s necessary.”
Seth nodded in agreement.
“But why? Why oppress the King of Wayland when you’re just going to attack?” Ethan asked. He was frustrated now. They’d been unable to rescue Gideon or Elspeth, after all this time, and now they had journeyed all the way through the Thornhills, finding the entire Temple destroyed and the surviving priests scattered. Topping it off, King Stephen had nearly had them killed under demonic oppression and Mordred’s preparations for war made it an imminent probability that he would strike here at any time. “We need some real answers so we can at least do something to fight back!”
Seth walked up behind Ethan and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes, Ethan, the Lord would have his servants to wait, patiently, until he directs their movements. Perhaps we can find no course of action, at the moment, because we are not to take any course of action at the moment.”
Ethan sighed heavily, nodding. “I know…you’re right. That sounds just like something Gideon would have told me.”
Seth smiled. “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”
A rush of footsteps came from the other side of the King’s bedchamber door. The lock clicked and the door opened. One of the King’s advisors stepped into the hallway, looking at each of them. “The King would speak to the Deliverer of Shaddai alone,” he said.
When Ethan entered the bedchamber, Stephen lay on the bed covered in a thick comforter. He looked pale, though he was awake and alert. The King’s other advisors and his personal physician vacated quietly as Ethan walked toward the end of the large bed.
Stephen looked at him with a glazed expression. Clearly the affects of the demons upon him had taken its toll. “Come near, Deliverer of Shaddai,” he said—though he didn’t sound respectful to the title when he said it. “Your name is Ethan?”
Ethan gave a slight bow of his head. “Yes, Your Highness. We met on the road as your army was leaving Emmanuel.”
Stephen smiled weakly. “I remember it…vaguely.” He seemed to be examining Ethan, which made him feel uncomfortable, despite his bold assertions earlier in the throne room.
“You’re just a boy,” Stephen said finally.”
Ethan wasn’t quite sure how to answer this, or even if he was expected to.
“I cannot understand why the Creator of all things would choose a child to fight against a warlord such as Mordred.” Stephen laughed contemptuously to himself. “While a king stands ready to do the Lord’s bidding and fight to the death with Mordred and his demons, Shaddai nurses a babe for the task.”
Ethan knew Stephen was referring to himself as the king desiring to assume the duties of the Deliverer. He had made as much known to them already, when they met him dragging his army back to Wayland following their utter defeat at Emmanuel. But if the King had been under oppression by evil spirits at the time, this rebellion in his heart hadn’t been caused by them. He was still wounded by Shaddai’s denying him victory over Mordred then and now.
“I am what I am, Your Highness,” Ethan said. “I did not choose to take on this responsibility or the power Shaddai has gifted to me. I am as bound to do his will as any man. Were it in my power, I would gladly bestow these abilities on the King. I find myself traveling a road I would never have chosen on my own. What else can I do but go patiently and trust the Lord to give the victory?”
“And do you have victory, Deliverer?” King Stephen sat up in his bed, his hands gripping the bedcovers tightly. “When will we see this deliverance you bring? Today? Tomorrow? When will it come? My army has been decimated…and for what? We have no victory! Our women cry in the night for husbands who gave their lives trying to defeat Mordred. Children are left without their fathers! Men who went to their deaths to give us that victory!”
“On your orders, Your Highness, not Shaddai’s,” Ethan said. His spine tingled the same way it had when he’d spoken in the throne room during the King’s tirade. He’d spoken these words as though not under his own control, despite knowing how it would infuriate the king. And it did.
Stephen began screaming—enraged as though the demons still held sway over him. Ethan looked for more of the demons to make themselves known on the spiritual plane, but they did not. This was only the rebellion present in Stephen’s heart making an appearance.
Ethan listened to it calmly, patiently. Stephen was practically slobbering out his threats against Ethan’s life when his ministers came barreling back into the room, astonishment plastered on their faces. And then Stephen yelled at them also. “Get him out of my sight!”
But none of the King’s servants made any move towards Ethan. Instead, they looked at one another, then back at Ethan, not knowing what to do. Seth and Levi stood in the doorway as well. No one moved a muscle except Stephen who stood on his knees amongst the bedclothes, fuming out the remnants of his spent rage with every labored breath.
Finally Ethan broke the silence. “I’ll leave you. My friends and I will go to the High Priest of The Order here in Wayland, Your Highness. If anyone attempts to prevent us, they’ll meet with worse than your guards did in the throne room.”
Ethan turned away from Stephen and walked out of the bedchamber with one of the King’s advisors on his heels. The heavy wooden door closed behind them as they joined Seth and Levi in the hall. A tray of food smashed against the inside of the door as it closed. The king cursed his counselors once again, though the walls did much to mute what he said.
Seth spoke to the advisor without looking toward him. “Can you direct us to the Temple here in Wayland? The sooner we’re gone from the palace, the better, I think, for all of us.”
The King’s advisor nodded vigorously. “Yes, of course. I’ll have someone escort you there. It lies on the outskirts of the city—not far at all.”
Ethan looked at Levi curiously, wondering why the Temple should be so close to the main population while The Order in Nod had remained secluded and their Temple location a secret. Levi, for his part, only shrugged silently as they fell into step with Seth, who had already begun to follow the King’s advisor down the dimly lit stone corridor.
NEW ORDER
True to his word, King Stephen’s advisor had provided a young page to escort them, by carriage, through the eastern portion of the city where the Temple of Shaddai lay near the city’s border with the vast forests beyond. Far from a secret installation, as the Temple in Nod, this Order seemed to be housed within what Ethan could only call a palace—equal to, if not surpassing, that which King Stephen dwelt in.
Levi pulled his head back inside the carriage window. “Boy, would you look at that!” he exclaimed to Seth sitting across from him in shadows of the velveteen carriage.
Seth smiled coyly. “Sorry, can’t.”
“Oh, yeah right,” Levi said sheepishly. “Sorry about that, mate.”
Seth laughed. “Not at all, Captain. I live for embarrassing moments like that.”
Ethan could hardly believe the structure before them: intricate stone carvings inlaid with gold, silver, and precious stones. Ethan had thought the Temple at Nod beautiful, but in a far more functional way. This seemed almost gaudy to him, and he wondered what manner of men trained here.
Their carriage drove across a bridge over a deeply set trench with a river running through the bottom. Ethan peered out the window with Levi, trying to gauge it. “That must be a fifty foot drop,” Levi said.
Ethan looked back inside at Seth. “Have you ever been here before, Seth?”
“Years ago, before I lost my sight in Macedon, but I don’t remember it as you’re both describing it,” he said. “In those days, The Order of Shaddai was still establishing itself and only had a modest few buildings with a training yard in the middle.”
“Well, I’d say they’ve established themselves pretty well,” Levi said. “They’re living posh. I wonder what kind of warriors they make.”
Ethan wondered that as well.
Once inside the courtyard, their carriage was met by a contingency of priests dressed in golden colored robes with embroidered fringes and cuffs. Most of the ten men standing before them had graying hair and wore tall pointy hats upon their heads. Ethan looked at them queerly, until he spotted Isaiah coming out of one of the archways leading within.
Isaiah smiled and gave Ethan a slightly exasperated nod as he passed the other priests, letting him know he too had similar feelings about the Wayland priest’s attire. He approached and embraced him. He whispered into Ethan’s ear, “We must talk privately as soon as possible.”
It had taken nearly an hour of pomp and circumstance, introductions and ceremony before Isaiah, Ethan, and his companions were left to speak together alone. Isaiah began to sip from a cup of tea as the steward finished serving them all, then left the room with a bow.
“Master, I’m so glad to find you safe here,” Ethan began, almost before the door had closed. “When we saw what happened at the Temple—” He couldn’t go on, the horror of the scene still fresh in his mind.
Isaiah nodded gravely, searching each of their eyes. He paused at Seth. “It’s good to see you again, Seth.”
“Master.”
“I’m sorry for your eyesight, my friend.”
“The Lord has blessed me with a new sight to replace that which was taken.”
Isaiah smiled weakly and nodded. “Things are worse than you may know, gentlemen.” He paused to gather himself. “Mordred sent an army to attack the Temple. They appeared to be some sort of cross between man and demon—abominable beasts. They came to us through the pine forest and we were unable to stop them. The last I’d heard, before departing, was that the entire pride had been killed trying.”
“But how did they find their way?” Levi asked. “That place was buttoned up tight among the Thornhills. I don’t see how—”
“That is the worst of the matter,” Isaiah interrupted. Anger and pain burned on his face. “Gideon led them to us.”
“What?” they all three asked at the same time.
Ethan tried a weak smile. “Master, did you say, Gideon led them?”
The heartbreak in Isaiah’s eyes left no doubt. “He betrayed us to Mordred, Ethan. Our lookout spotted Gideon leading them safely through the Shale Steps and then on toward the arch beyond the Pine Forest. Otherwise Mordred’s soldiers never would have found us.”
In the back of Ethan’s mind, puzzle pieces began to click together, forming a picture he did not want to see. Gideon in the uniform of Mordred, not fighting for their sport, but training? Seth and Dung finding an assassin in the dungeon cell rather than Gideon. And the ability of Mordred’s army to find the Temple despite only a few secret ways of entry.
They sat speechless for a long moment, before Isaiah carried on. “There is more,” he said. “The High Priest, here, has received a message by hawk from one of their spies onboard a Wayland barge near the Northern Horn. They’ve spotted an armada of ships, bearing Mordred’s standard, rounding the cape—three days flight by hawk.”
“When was the message received?” Levi asked.
“Just before your arrival here,” Isaiah said.
“That would put them just under two days from the Port of Trace and another day from here,” Levi surmised.
Isaiah nodded. “The invasion we feared has finally come to Wayland.”
“Does the King know?” Seth asked.
“A courier is already on his way to bring Stephen word, but I’m not sure what capability he still possesses after his defeat at Emmanuel. I’m afraid the situation is very dire.”
Ethan had been staring at the wall during all of this as though he hadn’t heard. “Is Gideon dead?”
Isaiah looked at him. “I don’t know, Ethan. I would have hoped so—”
Ethan looked into his eyes, stunned.
“—after all,” Isaiah continued, “it would become our duty to deal with him if he had survived. And that would be a very hard burden to place upon you or any of the surviving priests.”
It had not occurred to Ethan, until that startling moment, that he should ever be called upon to kill Gideon. He had become more than a brother to Ethan in their relatively short time together. Harming him seemed unthinkable despite his betrayal. And he wasn’t even sure he believed that. There had to be some other reason, some way that Mordred had controlled him, forced him to lead his soldiers to the Temple. “Master, I can’t—”
Isaiah leaned forward, placing his hand upon Ethan’s shoulders. “My son, I know as much as anyone how you must feel, but we have a duty unto Shaddai. I have known the man longer than any of you, and he has been my closest confident and friend for many years—a treasure of wisdom and skill among our Order. However, this betrayal cannot go unpunished, despite our feelings on the matter.”
And then, suddenly, Ethan knew why Isaiah wished Gideon killed in the explosions which had brought down the mountain upon Shaddai’s Temple. He too wished it, now that he thought of the alternative. It hummed in his mind—a glimmer of hope that he would not have to ever see Gideon’s face again under these circumstances.
“As I said, I would hope that he was killed—” Isaiah started again.
Ethan saw the doubt in the old man’s eyes. “But?”
Isaiah paused. “But we received a report from another of the High Priest’s spies, a day ago. A lone warrior, no doubt trained in the fighting arts of Shaddai’s Order, entered Wayland almost a day after you were taken by the King’s men.”
Ethan realized he was holding his breath.
“He ambushed several guards and infiltrated the fortress at the wall. This warrior started a fire and took one of their horses. They found the bodies of three of their elite guardsmen, sent to track down the thief, dead nearly a day’s travel into Wayland. One more survived the attack with a broken shoulder and leg. His description sounded very much like Gideon.”
Fear welled up in Ethan’s mind. Surely the task of destroying one of The Order’s most revered warriors would fall to him, the Deliverer. How could it not? But no matter how much he thought on it, he could not see himself doing this awful deed.
Isaiah sat back in his chair and sipped on his tea again. “Do not dwell on the matter now, Ethan. It will only trouble you more, and I need you for another task before we can consider anything else.”
Ethan tried to relax, but it was impossible. Still, pushing the assassination of his priestly brother from his mind was far better than torturing himself with it. “What must I do?”
“I fear the King will not take the news of Mordred’s invasion well. He has not been himself for some time, as I’ve heard from the court after your arrival. So we need to know what kind of threat we are facing. It may fall to The Order here, though I fear that alternative nearly as much, to devise some way of countering the attack that’s coming.”
Ethan stood up, eager to busy himself with another task. “I’ll go find this armada right away, Master.”
Isaiah stood along with the others. “Seth and Levi can help me here. Believe me, gentlemen, there’s much organizing that needs to happen if these priests are to be of use against Mordred and his army.”
Ethan nodded and started to go.
“Ethan,” Isaiah said, “be sure that you do not engage Mordred’s armada. We’ll need the information you gather in order to prepare here. And I wouldn’t want to risk losing you out there all alone.”
Ethan tried to force a smile. “Yes, Master. I’ll try not to do anything foolish.” And with that, he disappeared into the spiritual realm.
ARMADA
Ethan zoomed through the ethereal plane, high above the sparse towns beyond the capital, the forests, the black cliffs of Wayland’s northern border and the vast Azure Sea beyond. Even the joy of such freedom and power could not
stem the tide of sorrow overwhelming his heart. A brother had betrayed them and must be dealt with.
He flew down close to the water, just above the rolling blue. Dolphins leaped nearby, but Ethan soon left their best efforts behind him. Given the size of this armada and the approximate position, he assumed they would be easily spotted. He ascended higher and higher, searching the horizon as miles passed by in seconds.
After nearly an hour, Ethan passed through a thick bank of fluffy white clouds. When he emerged again, a vast deep blue jewel spread out before him and upon its surface, chopping through the smooth Azure, Mordred’s armada.
Nearly fifty ships sailed before him. Many of them were huge barges packed with enough supplies for an army and propelled by at least one hundred oars extending out both port and starboard sides. Engines of war perched upon some of the expansive decks. Mordred wouldn’t be holding anything back when he invaded Wayland’s capital.
Ethan tried to peer beneath the surface of the ships and found his sight barred by demonic activity. Of course there would be massive amounts of spirits to accompany Mordred and his army. The familiar buzzing along his skin alerted him to their definite presence. He didn’t see any demons at the moment, only felt them. Ethan started down toward the first ships in the line. Isaiah’s words resounded in his mind. “Do not engage Mordred’s armada.” Just a closer look, he decided.
Ethan came down upon the massive, flat deck of one of the carrier barges. He noticed that the men on the deck, going about their duties, were not men at all, but beasts of some kind. They walked as men, but some had the faces of bulls, goats, reptiles or much worse. He wondered if these might be more of the hybrid soldiers which Isaiah had been telling them about. The same which Gideon had led through the mountains to destroy the Temple of Shaddai.
One of the hybrid soldiers stopped, looking in Ethan’s direction. He soon continued on with his work somewhere else on the deck. The buzzing in his body had grown when the hybrid was near. Could it be that these were indwelt by demons? If they were, then why hadn’t he been able to see them? And could these strange creatures see him in his spiritual form? The hybrid hadn’t seemed to notice him.