by James Somers
Gideon flew into a rage at that point, smacked Ethan’s blade aside and hammered him in the chest with his fist. Ethan gasped, but Gideon stayed on him, delivering a crushing blow to the boy’s ribs with his knee on one side followed by a lightning fast chop to the base of his neck. Ethan collapsed unconscious before him. Gideon stood there looking at him, laboring for breath with Ethan’s last question resounding in his mind. He dropped his own sword next to the boy’s body and answered it. “No…I don’t think I could.”
PREPARATIONS
When Ethan awoke, he noticed the stars above him, the sun already down for some time. The moon hung almost full partially obscured by clouds. He sat up with his sword still locked in his hand. Gideon’s blade lay on the polished marble nearby. Ethan was still alive. He felt like he’d been ran over by a team of horses, but Gideon had not killed him, even though he clearly could have.
His mentor’s burst of fury had overtaken him so easily—that was unsettling. For some time now, Ethan had supposed he could take Gideon in a fight even without having to resort to his special gifts. Apparently, he had only been fooling himself with those assumptions. Still, the task of destroying Gideon would fall to him and he would have to use any means necessary to get the job done.
Perhaps, he thought, Isaiah wouldn’t want him killed seeing that Gideon had clearly spared his life. When Ethan thought about all that had been said between them, it made no sense. Gideon had clearly said that he was the one loose end left. And yet, when the time came to do the deed, Gideon had not exercised his opportunity. He had spared rather than kill.
A new hope bloomed in Ethan’s mind. He didn’t know everything that may have happened to Gideon since his abduction at Macedon. Clearly other factors were at work, even if Gideon hadn’t been willing to voice them. Maybe he couldn’t say anything. What if Mordred was controlling Gideon in some way? Frustrated, Ethan tried to figure it out, but kept coming up blank.
At any rate, he had to report back to the Temple with his information. He had already lost precious hours lying there unconscious. As Ethan stood, he saw the same two soldiers he had noticed lying unconscious when he had startled Gideon. They were still out cold—obviously dealt a worse beating than he had received.
Ethan decided to leave them there for the moment. They would wake or be discovered soon enough. He said a quick prayer for wisdom, pertaining to Gideon, then shifted onto the spiritual plane for a quick journey back to the Temple.
Gideon sat in a back alley behind a group of homes not far from the palace of King Stephen. The night had brought him cover and cool air to clear his head. He had failed. Ethan had been his to destroy…if only he’d actually wanted to. But, despite his son remaining Mordred’s prisoner and all that it entailed, Gideon had not been able to bring himself to kill his friend—his brother in The Order.
Moreover, Ethan had not tried to kill him. As he might have suspected, Isaiah would have sent someone to assassinate him after finding out that he was responsible for betraying The Order to Mordred and his soldiers. Ethan had said as much. And yet, the boy had not taken him by surprise to kill him when he had stopped Stephen’s assassination. Neither had he used his power to do so after they were confronted with one another. Despite his righteous indignation, Ethan had sought information rather than revenge.
Gideon, at that moment, made a resolution. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill Ethan. It just wasn’t going to happen. During all this time, Shaddai had spared his life despite his betrayal. He bowed his head, having come to the end of himself. “My lord, I have failed you time and again. Yet you have spared my life. I have not trusted you with my fate as I should have. I allowed my wife’s death to blind me to your sovereign control rather than surrendering myself to your will in taking her. My son remains in Mordred’s hands, but you are the one in control even now. If it is your will to spare my son, then nothing can prevent it. If it is not your will, then I trust he will be safe in your loving arms, only I beg you, do not allow Mordred to raise him up not knowing you. Nevertheless, your will be done. As for me, forgive me. I will fight against this enemy with every ounce of strength you will give me, regardless of what it may cost me personally. Have your way, Lord Shaddai. Amen.”
Gideon opened his eyes, feeling suddenly refreshed. He felt as though a great weight had been removed. He was free again. But what to do now? He didn’t feel as though he should approach Ethan or The Order again. He’d just tried to assassinate the King of Wayland, so trying there was out. It appeared he would be on his own. Still, an attack by Mordred’s army was coming. Perhaps there was plenty he could do against them. Maybe he could even face down the warlord himself.
Ethan arrived at the Wayland Temple in short order to find the priests preparing for battle. Robe colors may have been different, but hopefully their deadly techniques remained the same as those employed where Gideon had trained him in Nod. Ethan was escorted to a small room, near their armory, where Isaiah, Seth, Levi and some of the other priests busily reviewed maps of the region and the city of Evelah in anticipation of the coming siege.
Isaiah and the others looked up as Ethan was ushered into the room. “Ethan, I’m so glad to see you back safely,” Isaiah said. “I was beginning to worry when nightfall came and you had not returned.”
“The journey didn’t take as long as what happened during and after,” Ethan said.
“Something tells me you didn’t just spy on them,” Levi said sarcastically.
Ethan stepped toward the table next to Levi. “Did you really think I would?” he whispered.
“Well I suppose scolding you for not doing as I asked is a moot point, since you’ve come back safely,” Isaiah said. “What did you find?”
All eyes in the room fell upon him. What were they going to face? Would they be able to withstand the coming onslaught? Who would survive and who in this room had only hours to live? These questions and more were written upon their faces.
“I saw at least fifty ships—huge flat carriers mingled among many of Mordred’s Man-o-wars—all within a days sailing of the Northern Shore,” Ethan said. “The barges were loaded down with engines of war: catapults and the like. And the crew on at least one consisted of those same half man, half beast soldiers we found in the Pine Forest.”
“A day’s travel,” said one of the senior priests, “how will we ever prepare in time?”
“They’ll be closer by now,” Ethan corrected. “I may have slowed them down a bit with an attack on one of the barges, but I was delayed in getting back to you.”
“Did you run into more demons?” Levi asked.
“Well, yes, but that’s not what delayed me,” Ethan said.
Isaiah watched him intently. “Something else, Ethan? What was it?”
Isaiah’s eyes looked as though he may have picked up the answer in Ethan’s expression a moment before he actually said it. “I found Gideon,” he said.
Only those who knew of the priest and his betrayal of the Nodian Order reacted to the statement. The others barely seemed curious. Isaiah prompted Ethan on. “And?”
“I had paused on my way back to the Temple in order to hear what King Stephen was saying in his address to the people,” Ethan said. “While I was there, Gideon tried to assassinate the King.”
Now the other priests grew anxious as well. “Assassinate the King?” one of them said. “He wasn’t successful was he—I mean we would have heard wouldn’t we?” he said looking at the brethren of his own Order.
“He was not successful,” Ethan said. “I stopped him.”
“You stopped him?” Levi asked suspiciously. “Do you mean you killed him, Ethan?”
“No, I didn’t kill him.” He noticed Seth and Levi both let out a captured breath, relieved at the news.
Isaiah also appeared to notice their reaction, but he kept his attention on Ethan. “What did happen when you confronted Gideon?”
“Master, I would have destroyed him straightaway, as instructed, but I had to
find whether he had been somehow bewitched by Mordred or his demons—coerced in some way.”
“And was he?” Isaiah asked.
“I couldn’t get an answer out of him,” Ethan said. “We fought as I tried to question him, but he only said that, what was done was done and that I was the only loose end which remained.”
Isaiah shut his eyes to hide his emotional pain. “Then he has truly betrayed us, as I feared,” he said.
“I’m not so sure,” Ethan countered.
“What do you mean?” Levi asked.
“He may have intended to kill me, but when I provoked him further, he got the better of me,” Ethan said. Somehow, it didn’t bother him to admit that Gideon had bested him. Ethan knew in his heart that he still admired the man, still loved him as a brother. “Gideon managed to knock me unconscious, but as you can see, he didn’t kill me.”
Isaiah and Levi gave one another puzzled looks. Seth smiled quietly to himself. Clearly, hope for Gideon’s fate still flickered in their hearts as well. Finally one of the senior priests, Emory, of the Wayland Order spoke up. “We’ve no time to concern ourselves over one man. Mordred is coming with his thousands to lay siege to Evelah. For all we know, they may be landing on our shores as we speak.”
“You’re quite right, Emory,” Isaiah said, clearly relieved that he didn’t have the time to make a further judgment on Gideon’s fate at the moment. “As War Master here at the Temple, you stand in charge while your High Priest is still ill. I and my men will do everything we can to assist you in preparation. How are the fighting skills of your men? I had noticed that daily routines don’t include much actual training in the fighting arts.”
“There’s really not been a need,” Emory said. “We’ve had a few of our elite warriors train as emergency bodyguards to the King and those who guard Wayland’s border outposts, but we’ve never faced an army.”
Isaiah sighed. “Then there’s no time to lose. Seth and Ethan, along with my other priests, will begin training your men here at the Temple.”
“But we’ve no time at all,” Emory said.
“Mordred still has to organize and march his army to Evelah,” Isaiah said. “That time alone may make all the difference in the world in polishing away the rust you’ve all allowed to eat away at your skills here.”
The priests of Wayland’s Order had lapsed in their duties which should have included rigorous training exercises. Isaiah’s priests, along with Ethan and Seth, had taken up positions on the polished stone courtyard, currently used for meditation and prayer, in order to train them in small groups. Ethan had just finished an exercise with some of Wayland’s priests, when he heard a commotion from a neighboring group.
“I’m not going to be trained by a blind man,” one of the priests was saying. “It’s bad enough having you foreigners come into our Temple telling us what we should have been doing all this time. But to foist this handicapped man upon us…it’s just insulting.”
Seth stood in the midst of a group of nearly a dozen priests in black sparring robes as they argued amongst themselves. “If you’re so insulted, then why not prove that you don’t need my help?” Seth said. “Or are you simply trying to mask the fact that you’ve grown lazy here in the Wayland Order, to the point that you’re afraid to spar with one blind man?”
Now Seth had done it. Ethan watched as those priests encircled him. They were ready to fight now…maybe even to the death over such an insult.
Ethan walked with his group over to where Seth now stood in the middle of the angry priests. “Seth, are you okay over here?” he asked. Ethan knew it was a rhetorical question. After all, he couldn’t think of a time or situation where Seth hadn’t been all right.
Seth only smiled back in Ethan’s direction. “Oh yes, no problem,” he said. “I was just about to teach these men a lesson.”
Now they grew more enraged, yet no one made a move to attack him. “I’ll take him on first,” one of the priests said.
“Why not all together?” Seth laughed. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you, after all.”
If the blind priest had been attempting to bait them, he had now succeeded. Ethan watched as the men surrounding Seth came at him. First one and then two more were quickly knocked back into the others.
The priests took stock of themselves quickly and reorganized. Okay, so it wouldn’t be quite that easy. They formed a circle and then began to move in on Seth in a more organized fashion, trying to coordinate their attacks for success.
Once again, Seth took them on. The first he gouged in the ribs with a precisely placed front kick that sent the man doubled over in pain to the ground. The second and third, who came at the same time, he smashed in the jaw and swept the legs out from under, respectively. The remainder of the dozen attempted a rush and tackle which led Seth to dodge back and forth, blocking and attacking the closest, then next and so on, until all of them lay around him on the ground, holding one or two locations on their bodies in pain. Seth alone remained standing with a sour look on his face.
“Now, you sluggards, you will stand and go through the exercises I prescribe without another word, or I’ll thrash you until every single one of you spends the entirety of Mordred’s siege in the infirmary eating your food through a straw!”
Ethan had never seen Seth so fierce. He was almost prepared to line up himself. The priests, for their part, quickly got to their feet, despite their new pains, and stood erect, awaiting Seth’s instructions. “Very good,” he said with a stern smile. He nodded at Ethan, then went on with the training. Ethan went back to his own group and began again. There wouldn’t be much time to whip these men into shape. Mordred’s army would not wait.
ADVANCE
Gideon watched as Mordred’s army worked like insects to bring themselves ashore in the Northern Bay. The cluster of so many large ships in the bay made it appear as though a floating city had been erected overnight. Mordred had brought such a force, Gideon wondered how they could ever be stopped by any means King Stephen might still possess. His overwhelming defeat at Emmanuel had left Wayland’s king with precious few resources with which to wage war. Now war was coming to him instead.
The barges crowded the huge stretch of beach having been run as far aground as possible. Gideon had wondered how they would manage to unload their engines of war without them all sinking to the bottom of the bay, but now Mordred’s genius shined through. The giants, whom he had seen housed within the walls of Emmanuel City, now served as the muscle to bring Mordred’s barges closer to shore.
The big Anakims heaved upon huge sections of rope, at least two hundred per barge, dragging their vessels up, up, up until the bows sat upon the sand of Wayland’s shore. With more work, the ropes were then attached to separate moorings upon the decks. Entire forward portions of each deck were then unlocked and pulled forward on hundreds of ball bearings.
The deck plates, reinforced with a meshwork of steel construction underneath, then were eased down to the shore upon the shoulders of the giants. In the end, each forward deck had been transformed into a massive ramp reaching almost completely to the solid ground beyond the beach.
The crew was now free to unload the engines of war fastened to the deck plates, rolling them forward as trees were quickly cleared in order to make a suitable path. A narrow dirt road, leading from the beach back through the trees and into the countryside beyond, was quickly transformed into a much widened thoroughfare. Catapults, great battering rams, and siege engines were assembled on deck and then rolled down to take up their places in an ever lengthening parade headed toward Wayland’s capital city of Evelah.
Most of the Anakims had taken up the duty of clearing the way. With axe heads as big as a man, they cut down large trees as though hacking their way through mere brush. Others tossed or rolled the felled trees out of the way. With nearly a thousand of the giants all working to accomplish the tasks, in addition to the hybrid soldiers, the whole ordeal came off with startling efficiency.
Gideon watched it unfold for nearly two hours, himself fascinated by it and wondering what he might do to at least slow them down. So far he had been unable to come up with any good plan. Mordred’s Man-o-wars had been, all this time, unloading the main company of soldiers and their provisions onto smaller, shore-going boats. The Man-o-wars remained anchored behind the line of barges in the harbor. But as the ships had been lightened of their burdens, Gideon noticed something new happening onboard.
The hybrid crews had refashioned the sail rigging into some sort of net system which was then suspended from each of the three masts. As Gideon watched, the crews then brought out and unfolded what Gideon first supposed to be sail cloth. But beneath the suspended cloth, fires had been lit in special stoves. The cloth began to fill with hot air and rise up from the decks of the Man-o-wars.
Gideon still did not realize what Mordred was doing by the time the cloth had ballooned up into the nets. The material continued its expansion, with the flaming stoves stoked hot beneath them, until the canvas had billowed higher than the masts themselves and threatened to burst the nets which had been fabricated to hold them. Then, to Gideon’s complete astonishment, one of the Man-o-wars began to rise up out of the water.
Water cascaded down from the ship’s hull as the sea going vessel left its native habitat to take up residence in the atmosphere. It rose steadily higher until the ship was nearly as high as the surrounding trees. The other Man-o-wars began to do the same—each filling its sail cloth sacks with hot air and leaving the sea for the clouds.
Upon each of the Man-o-wars, smaller sections of sail sprang out from both the starboard and port sides at mid-ship. Rotating fans of wood were mounted near the flanking sails and wind cranked into them by mechanisms working deep inside the ship. The Man-o-wars, now airborne, launched forward under their own wind, gliding forward effortlessly above the treetops toward the city of Evelah.