by James Somers
The Kung turned on him again.
“Captain, I would suggest you stay where you are and stop complaining to the lizard. It doesn’t like it,” Seth said.
But Levi grumbled still, trying unsuccessfully to extricate himself from the heap of lizard dung. The beast began to move toward him, though he was too busy to notice now. Ethan and Seth lunged for the lizard as it turned from them.
The Kung smashed them both with a swish of its great tail. They tumbled through the chamber, landing in a heap, their breath knock from them. Now, Levi noticed the big predator closing on him. He tried to locate his cutlass, but it had landed about ten feet away, barely visible in the darkness.
The Kung lizard hissed at Levi and sampled the air with its tongue. Time to eat.
Levi flailed his arms and legs, but the muck held him fast. The whip-like tongue lashed out and caught hold of Levi’s clothing. “Help me, lads! It’s got me!”
Ethan and Seth, hit with the tree like tail, had barely managed to recover enough to start breathing again. They groaned against the pain, trying to get to Levi before it was too late. The thick, sticky tongue pulled against the grip of the dung pile, trying to free the Kung’s meal.
Levi’s body shifted upward. “It’s pulling me out!” Then he realized the mound was shifting beneath him. A large nose poked through the muck between his feet as the tongue continued pulling. The dung heap exploded, sending Levi into the air free of the sticky tongue.
Something-a creature easily the size of a man-leaped from the pile of filth to attack the Kung lizard. The reptile reared back, then tried to lash at the new threat with its tail. The new creature, completely caked with dung, dodged the tail then slammed into the lizard. The beasts tumbled. The dung caked animal tore into the lizard’s neck with razor sharp teeth and claws. Blood flew everywhere.
The Kung lizard spasmed, then lay still with the dung-beast still crouching on its chest. Then it turned its attention on the humans. The beast stared at Ethan then leaped from the Kung lizard and began to come toward him. Ethan stood and prepared for a fight.
This beast may not have been as big as the Kung, but it had ferocity to make up for its smaller stature. The creature stopped short of Ethan and Seth, then shook its entire body. A wave rolled along its form, shaking lizard dung from a coat of thick brown fur.
The filth came free with surprising efficiency, leaving a sleek brown mammal standing on its haunches. “It’s a rat!” Ethan exclaimed.
Levi reacted first. He dove for his cutlass. “No, I’m not doing rats again.”
The brown rat watched him curiously as he picked up the weapon and began to approach. The animal turned back to Ethan watching him. Then it surprisingly bowed to him-at least that’s what it appeared to be doing.
“Stop, Levi,” Ethan said as he lowered his own sword. “Don’t hurt it.”
Levi stopped short, looking exasperated. “What do you mean, don’t hurt it? That thing’s liable to tear your throat out any moment!”
“No, I don’t think so,” Ethan said. He transfixed on the rat as it slowly stood again on its haunches. Ethan extended a hand toward the creature. “I don’t know why, but I feel like you mean us no harm.”
The rat stooped again, this time placing his muzzle under Ethan’s outstretched palm. The black eyes watched, but the rat made no move to harm the boy. Seth stood still, listening, sampling every vibration of the air with his finely honed senses. Levi held his weapon ready to strike should the beast make the slightest provocation.
Ethan laid his hand on the rat’s muzzle. The thick fur was surprisingly soft, though much of his coat still held the remnants of the dung heap. As he made contact with the creature, Ethan felt instantly at peace. He realized the feeling did not emanate from within, but rather from the rat. It meant only to help them.
Ethan spoke then, while his hand was still touching the rat. “Do you know who I am?”
Instantly Ethan felt the answer crossing the connection between them. Somehow, the rat understood him to be one sent from the Creator. “Can you help us to get out of this place to safety?” Ethan asked.
Ethan barely had time to discern a positive feeling before the rat pulled away and scurried toward one of the tunnels leading away from the central chamber. It stopped at the mouth of the tunnel, waiting. Ethan looked at Levi with a smile on his face.
“Now, wait a minute, Ethan. If you think I’m going to go traipsing off, following a giant rat through these tunnels your crazy.”
Seth had already stepped after the rat toward the tunnel. Ethan looked back at Levi and hunched his shoulders. “Call me crazy, I suppose.” Then he followed after Seth.
The rat went into the tunnel with both following. Levi took another moment to consider the situation, until he heard hissing echo from the tunnels behind him. “Wait up, lads. If you’re going on some wild goose-er-rat chase, then I better make sure it don’t have you for dinner!”
CAPTURED
Gideon only vaguely remembered being dragged from beneath a heap of rubble, which had buried him shortly after the shelling began on Nichol’s castle. He heard men’s voices all around him. The sun beat down upon him. His body ached all over. The dry taste of dirt lay on his lips.
The men stopped dragging him by the shoulders. Gideon heard a deep laughter. He raised his head to find a large man standing before him in the armor of a Wraith General. He supposed the man must be General Rommil, but he didn’t feel like raising his head to look into his face.
“So, priest of Shaddai,” Rommil said, “are you the Deliverer of God we have been hearing about all these months?”
Gideon tasted dirt when he tried to speak. His tongue felt pasted to the roof of his mouth. The general grabbed his tattered shirt and picked him up off the ground with one hand. “No. You are not him are you?” Rommil listened, then spoke again. “So, you must be the one who trained the boy. Gideon?”
Gideon noticed, vaguely, that no one visible had spoken to the general, yet he seemed to be getting this information on the spot. He wondered from whom.
“Tell me where your companion is?”
Gideon managed to speak. “You pulled me from a pile of busted rock and you expect me to know where he is? Find him yourself.”
Rommil listened to an unseen voice again.
“Very well, priest of Shaddai,” Rommil said, “you will be my guest aboard The Razor, my fastest ship. It will take us to Mordred. Perhaps, he can persuade you to give him what he wants.”
Gideon started to protest again, but Rommil’s fist smashed him across the face and all went black.
Daylight flooded into the tunnel near the end. Ethan, Seth, and Levi had followed the brown rat all the way to the outside of the castle. Smoke rose above the treetops nearly a half mile away. “That must be the castle back there,” Ethan said.
Levi sat on a nearby rock and examined himself. “This is without a doubt the worst shape I’ve ever been in.”
Ethan wrinkled his nose at the captain. “Yeah, the fresh air really brings out your stench, Levi. You and Seth should take the advice of our new friend over there.”
They watched the brown rat wading into a nearby stream. Where the river became white-water, he entered and held tight to the rocks, allowing the water to cleanse his thick coat of its filth.
“Our new friend?” Levi asked incredulously. “He’s a big, nasty rat.”
The rat exited the stream and shook his lean frame free of excess water, then began grooming his coat.
Seth smiled at Levi. “I’d say he’s a fair bit cleaner than you at the moment.”
“Well, you’re no better, Seth.”
Seth walked toward the stream. “Then I second the rat’s wisdom.”
Ethan smiled as he watched the rat cleaning himself. “He’ll need a name.”
“What on earth for?” Levi asked, bewildered.
“He helped us,” Ethan said defensively. “Not to mention saving your life.”
Levi relent
ed a bit.
“And I think he can help us find Gideon. He may have been captured.”
The rat wandered back to Ethan’s side. He placed his hand gently on the rat’s head, still a bit concerned by the beast’s size. It stood slightly taller than any of them.
“What is your name?” Ethan asked.
Levi rolled his eyes. “Oh boy.”
Ethan ignored him. The rat responded in thought. Ethan tried to decipher it, but only grasped feelings. “I can’t figure out what he’s telling me.”
Seth splashed in the river, allowing the water to clean away the sewage and filth they’d been traveling through.
Ethan tried again. “Would you mind if we gave you a name?”
The rat responded with eager feelings of joy.
“How about Dung?” Levi said from his rocky perch.
Ethan shot him a defensive look.
“What? We found him in a dung heap, after all.”
Ethan smirked, hoping to turn it around on Levi. “Sounds good to me. What about you?” he said to the rat. Surprisingly, he found the rat amiable to the name.
He turned back to Levi. “Good job, Captain, he likes it. Now, go wash up or Dung and I are going to push you in the river.” To this sentiment, the rat rose up with an eager look in his black eyes.
His pounding skull invaded Gideon’s slumber. He roused, slowly at first, then remembering what had happened, he leapt to his feet. Chains held him fast to a steel plate mounted to the wall. He turned and yanked against them again and again, but could not break free. He pulled to the point of wringing blood from his wrists and ankles-no use.
Gideon examined the bars of his cage. Iron bars on three sides. He noticed the floor. It was uneasy-tilting slightly. They have me on a ship. He heard footsteps coming down the corridor beyond the wooden door before his cell. A key slid into the lock on the other side-tumblers slid into place.
Jericho stood in the corner of the lone prison cell, amused. The priest of Shaddai had roused by now from his fist-induced slumber. He pulled against his chains several times, straining his wrists and ankles against the manacles to the point of blood. Most amusing.
Footsteps fell on the wooden floor outside the room. The priest reacted. Jericho watched as the guard came in to find the priest apparently still unconscious. Not a particularly clever ruse. Nevertheless, the guard inspected the man for a moment, then decided it safe to open the cell door in order to place a tray of food inside the door.
It wasn’t a wise move, but Jericho and the guard both knew that Gideon’s chains would not allow him to even reach the tray. Once the door was closed, the tray could be kicked across to the prisoner. But something had caught the guard’s eye.
Jericho moved to see what had seized the man’s attention. On the floor, partially spilled, lay a pouch of gold and silver coinage. Jericho had not noticed it lying there next to Gideon’s knee before.
The guard turned to look around, then at Gideon, wanting to be sure the man was really unconscious. He greedily inched closer to the money bag. Jericho puzzled a moment too long, then realized-bait!
Before he could do anything to warn the guard, the priest sprang at him, seized him in a silent embrace and snapped his neck. Jericho decided, curiously, to watch more of the priest in action.
Gideon took the keys, but none fit the locks on his manacles. Next he took the guard’s sword. He placed the point inside a chain link, then used his palm to drive the pommel down. Four times for four links he did this and freed himself in seconds. The priest took the weapon, keys, and his pouch of coins and crossed the room to the door. He paused, looked in Jericho’s direction, then shook off his suspicion and entered the corridor beyond.
Jericho passed through the door, following the priest along his route. He’s quite clever, Jericho thought. More what I would have expected in a choice of Deliverer. Perhaps this priest could actually do as we hope.
Gideon walked cautiously down the narrow corridor of the ship. He blew out the wall-mounted lanterns as he came to them, then proceeded, using the darkness to his advantage. Jericho followed, intrigued.
The priest ascended the stairway, only pausing before he came on deck to spy out his odds. Apparently, he hadn’t been overly concerned by the amount of men he had to face. He surged forward onto the main deck.
Jericho rose through the deck until he had an excellent vantage point of the ensuing skirmish. The priest tore through men as though assailed by no more than a troop of goose down pillows. He spotted Macedon off the port bow and ran for the rail, intending to leap from the ship and make a swim for it.
Jericho deftly moved to intercept, permeating the physical world just enough to bar the man’s efforts to leave. Gideon hit an invisible barrier and toppled backward to the deck. He stood, baffled, then tried again unsuccessfully. A look of semi-comprehension washed over his face. He ducked back, fighting more men across the deck toward the other side. He jumped more cautiously and slammed into another of Jericho’s barriers. He landed back on his feet this time, then switched tactics completely.
Jericho watched him run around the soldiers, taking down more as necessary. The priest climbed quickly to the poop deck. What is he doing now?
The priest assaulted the guard at Rommil’s quarters and plowed through the door. Jericho rushed after him. When he entered the room, he found the priest just inside the door pointing his sword at General Rommil. The Wraith General sat across the cabin behind his oak writing desk in a leather chair. He smoked on a long pipe, smiling at Gideon.
“I must say, priest, that took longer than expected. I was told you warriors of Shaddai were supposed to be the best.”
Gideon said nothing. Smart, Jericho thought. Maintain your focus-don’t let the enemy turn you from your goal. Half the battle takes place in the mind. He realized the priest might strike any moment. No need to waste a good warrior like Rommil while he was still so useful.
Jericho made himself visible to Rommil. The general seemed to barely take notice, as if he’d expected the demon was there all the time.
“Tell me, priest, have you ever fought a demon?” Rommil asked coolly.
“I’ve killed a few.”
Jericho smiled at the young man’s ignorance. He’s posturing…perfect.
Rommil smiled and stood behind his desk. “So, will you kill me, then?”
Gideon gripped the weapon tighter. Soldiers gathered at the door to Rommil’s quarters. They shouted to their general for admittance.
“Stand down!” Rommil hollered to them.
“I’ll spare your life, General, once you have the barrier removed from around the ship.”
Rommil laughed heartily. “I didn’t place the barrier around the ship, you fool! You don’t realize the situation you’re in, obviously.”
“I won’t ask again, General.”
“Then strike, priest. I’m unarmed.”
Gideon had now come up against the wall. His bluff had been called.
Jericho watched and waited. The priest stood there, considering for the briefest moment, then he lunged for General Rommil. Jericho intercepted the priest with one invisible swipe of his forearm. Gideon sailed across the room, landing in a bookcase.
The entire lot tumbled to the ground around him. Gideon recovered lightning quick, blade ready, searching the half-light within the general’s cabin. Jericho waited.
The priest leaped again, trying to place his sword between his body and any invisible entity in the room. Jericho seized Gideon’s sword arm, then used it to swing him around the room. The demon battered him into every piece of furniture available until Gideon could barely manage to get to his knees. He remained on the floor of the cabin, gasping for breath, blood pouring from his nose and many lacerations across his body.
The demon left him there to wallow in self pity and discouraged defeat. Rommil’s deep voice boomed throughout the cabin with laughter. “Ah, priest, you don’t fail to amuse do you? Perhaps if you serve no other purpose for Lord
Mordred, he might allow you to live as a jester in his court.”
Gideon barely managed to catch his breath. It felt like several of his ribs had been broken during the demonic attack. He’d never seen it coming and there was no way to fight back. He had been defeated.
Rommil passed by and removed the chair Gideon had used to bar the door. The soldiers came in after him. “Gather up our friend and bring him onto the main deck,” Rommil said. He walked through them into the sunshine.
The soldiers hoisted Gideon to his feet. He winced at the pain coursing through his torso. The breath came only in gentle inhales and exhales. Gideon staggered between the guards holding him up. They led him, following the general, out onto the main deck.
The sunshine made him feel a little better. The cabin had seemed nearly cold enough to see one’s breath suspended in the air. But hopelessness knocked out any small joy that remained.
Rommil stood at the railing. “Come over here, priest. I assumed you would want to see this.”
Rommil’s men pulled him to the rail beside the general. On the beach, a large fire burned with some of Rommil’s soldiers next to it. They also had a silver chest with them. Gideon perked up pitifully.
“I see you recognize the chest,” Rommil crowed. “The same one you and the boy brought with you from your pathetic Order of Shaddai.”
General Rommil raised his hand to the men on shore. They were nearly two hundreds yards away from the beach on Rommil’s sleuth, the Razor. As soon as they received the signal, his men smashed the lock from the front of the chest and opened it. Several of them began pulling scrolls from the chest, shredding them, then tossing the remains into the bonfire.
Gideon’s last vestiges of strength left him. How could it have happened? Their mission a failure, himself captured, and only the Lord knew what had happened to Ethan.
“Surely you realize your God will not save you this time,” Rommil said. “Your mission of mercy to Macedon is a miserable failure, young man. We sail for Nod where you will stand before Lord Mordred at his palace. You may live to regret your rebellion to my master.”