Judas (The Iscariot Warrior Series Book 1)

by Roy Bright

  “I guess so.” Her eyes continue to scan the book beneath her, the pen still tapping on the pages.

  Sister Marie sighs and stares at her for a few seconds longer before smiling again. “Well, never mind that now, sweetie. You know what? I think I might just have a few cookies left in my jar in the staff room.” She whispers, “If you keep it a secret, I think you and I could sneak a couple out just before supper. Whaddya think?”

  Charlotte’s head snaps up.

  “Yay!” she says, a wide smile across her face. Her eyes widen as she declares, “And I promise, I won’t tell anybody.” She is already packing her bag before the final word leaves her mouth, folding the book and notepad together and stuffing them into the small brown satchel adorned with the logo and name of the orphanage across its front.

  Pens and pencils are jammed into her half-blue denim, half-brown fur pencil case. She pulls the zip shut, jabs it into the bag, whilst at the same time standing causing her chair to screech backwards and almost topple to the ground. She just manages to catch it with her right hand, bringing it to a halt. Realizing her over eagerness, she returns the chair to its rightful and proper place under the desk, with care.

  Sister Marie laughs and stands, sliding her chair under the desk, mimicking the actions of Charlotte. “Well, come on then, those cookies ain’t gonna eat themselves.” She moves around the desk, her left hand outstretched.

  Charlotte swings her backpack over her left arm and threads her right through the other strap, slapping the pack onto her back. She lifts up her right hand and places it into that of the outstretched Sisters, smiling at the old woman. A smile that says thank you, a smile that says you are amazing, a smile that says I love you.

  “Come on, sweetie,” Sister Marie says returning the smile. “Then we can go and join everyone else in the dining hall. Why, I bet they are all there already!” She giggles.

  The rays of light have now ceased to torment the globe under the window. Their mark rescinded and whatever secrets they were pointing out lost to the room in favor of dancing over the desks and up the blackboard. It was getting late. The sun had almost set; the room was descending into darkness.

  Leaving the classroom, hand in hand they step out into the hallway, its wooden tiles gleaming from the pristine polish job it had received the day before from the grounds-man.

  Charlotte sets off to perform a slide over its surface, but remembers with whom she is sharing the walk and decides against it.

  Turning right, they move down the corridor and away from the setting sun, holding hands, swinging them back and forth.

  Sister Marie looks at her and smiles and the she looks back into her eyes with great love. What would she ever do without Sister Marie? Life would just not be the same.

  They have almost reached the end of the corridor when the Sister stops, causing Charlotte to do the same.

  “The magazine! I forgot the magazine; I left it on the desk.” She looks down at the child. “I’m such a scatterbrain,” she laughs. “I can’t leave it for one of the girls to find in the morning! No, no that just wouldn’t do. Besides,” she says, leaning forward with a cheeky grin, “I must find out what that woman intends to do with all that money from her divorce.”

  Charlotte giggles.

  “Wait here, sweetie, I won’t be but a moment.”

  She lets go of her hand, clasps both of hers together and sets off back down the corridor towards the classroom, the hem of her habit swaying from side to side as she scurries off with small and quick paced steps.

  Charlotte hooks each of her thumbs through the shoulder straps of the backpack and makes small twirls on the glassine surface of the wooden floor. She then moves her arms out to her sides, raising them as if flying and skids along it. She loved to do this as often as she could, running around the corridors, breaking into a glide with ease, her arms outstretched at either side of her body. This made her smile, always; the brief feeling of flying, of freedom, of control. She is about to attempt her second skid when a loud whooshing emanates from the classroom. She stops and raises her head. Worried, she calls out, “Sister Marie?”

  No answer.

  “Sister Marie, are you okay?”

  There is only silence.

  She cocks her head towards the location from where the sound came and calls out once again.

  “Sister Marie, are you there?”

  She inches down the corridor towards the room, her small black shoes stepping in front of each other in an almost perfect straight line.

  “Sister Mari—”

  A large crash cuts her short making her jump and stop dead in her tracks.

  Her eyes widen and her pupils dilate as the body of Sister Marie careers through the doorway, skidding across the surface of the corridor and smashing into the wall with a sickening thud. She is rooted to the spot, her young brain unable to comprehend the violence that it has just bore witness to. Her gaze fixates upon the crumpled body of her guardian and the wide streak of blood that charts the path in which it took from classroom to wall. She shakes. Her breathing turns into panting, her legs to jelly and her mouth opens and closes yet no sound comes forth. A sudden noise breaks her out of the trance and her head snaps back to the left as she hears paws patting against the surface of the floor, claws tapping away, click, click, click, click.

  From out of the doorway, appears a head preceded by a long and pointy snout. Set underneath it, a wide mouth with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Blood red eyes pierce out of its head and its skin is brown, slimy and burnt-like. More of the beast’s body stalks into view. A grotesque muscularity, jackal-like and hairless with a wet-look texture to it, spattered with blood. Huge strands of saliva mixed with blood drip from the creature’s mouth, landing on the floor. Pat, pat, pat.

  It stops and turns its head to the right. Its eyes flare yellow and burn with intensity. It sniffs the air, seeking out the child at the end of the corridor.

  It opens its mouth and Charlotte expects at any second to hear it roar; a cry that would attack her very soul leaving her dead inside, but instead a wicked cackle emanates from between the rows of teeth. A laugh that sounds almost, human.

  Another head appears just behind the midsection of the first creature.

  There are two of them.

  A voice inside her head screams ‘Move!’ and she crashes out of the shock that has her gripped. She turns to her left and bolts down the corridor. She does not scream. She should, and yet she doesn’t know why one fails to materialize, it just doesn’t.

  The second creature looks at its partner. Grinning teeth and fiery eyes search its face waiting for a command.

  The first creature returns the look and hisses, “Your turn!”

  Four

  He reverses the Mustang out of the lockup with great care and the car growls with ferocity as he pulses the accelerator; a delicious, deep, rattling and guttural growl so distinctive of this monster vehicle that it would make your body shake to be stood next to it.

  The front two wheels drop off the high sidewalk and the suspension creaks.

  He winces, turning his attention to the front of the car. “Sorry, old girl, I know you ain’t been out in a while. I promise I’ll be more careful with ya.”

  The shutter door judders into life once again and descends back towards he ground, panels clanking as the barrier draws shut.

  He turns the wheel to the right and shifts the car from reverse to first gear and moves forward to the side of the road where he parks up.

  Whilst peering over the steering wheel, he reaches over to the glove compartment and fumbles around. Plastic clunks against plastic. He pulls out a cassette tape, holds it up, reads the description, shakes his head and throws it onto the passenger seat. He tries the lucky dip again; another cassette, another addition to the passenger seat. He dives in for a third time, his gaze shifted to the gloom inside the compartment. He considers turning on the interior light; maybe that would be of actual benefit. It doesn’t matter, he has
found his prize. Reaching over to the radio he turns it on and it crackles into life. An overzealous disc jockey announces the latest pop offering onto the airwaves. He winces and slams the cassette into the player. Distorted guitars and crashing drums blare out and he increases the volume whilst at the same time nodding his head. “Yeah,” he says whilst looking into the rear view mirror, “this is the stuff.” He shakes his head as he spies the receptionist scurrying off towards her car, agitated, rummaging through her handbag. “That damn woman and her keys.”

  A voice growls out from the speakers telling a story of wherever he roams and lays his head, is home.

  He smiles and returns his gaze to the road ahead, nodding along to the music and slams the car into first gear as he turns the brown wood veneer steering wheel to the right and moves out into the road. He is on his way.

  The Mustang chews up Southern State Parkway, growling onwards to an unfamiliar place as Judas muses over the fact that he has never had the pleasure of visiting West Babylon. I guess there are some places I haven’t been to after all, he teases himself. His first trip there would be an uneasy one. It has been twenty-one years since he has had meaningful interaction with another human being and this one is a child. How is he supposed to take care of a child for three days?

  I’d fight any demon on this goddam planet, but look after a six-year-old girl? Dunno if I can do that.

  He is used to talking to himself by now. More often than not, it is the only way he can get a sensible answer to a question. He takes a deep breath as he glances out of the driver’s side window. He has been enjoying the drive for around thirty-five minutes and realized just how much he has missed his car, the freedom of the open road and more importantly, being able to sit down whilst he travels.

  The guitars continue to grind and scream, the drums smash all around him, the gruff voice once again spits out lyrics with venom; a tale of his struggle within.

  He tries to shake off his current thought process and bangs a fist on the steering wheel in time to the beat, singing along. His singing slows with the last lyric as his mind drifts to a place in the past. The intensity of his beating hand subsiding to a mere gentle tap on the steering wheel. He casts a brief look out of the driver’s window as buildings and advertising boards race by. He himself had struggled within once; he had sealed his own coffin and had sealed his own fate. It had been in another time, another place, another life altogether.

  Japan 1496

  Judas felt young again. Although his face had not aged a day in almost fifteen hundred years, his mind and spirit had kept reminding him just how old he really was. However, as he walked the summer field, running his right hand through the tall silver grass, feeling the cool breeze against his face, he felt young again.

  Princess Hitari was a good two lengths in front of him but he could feel her eyes longing to look back, to offer him a glance, a smile. But, she was of nobility and it wouldn’t do for her to be seen attracting the favor of one of her guards, a guard who was not of Japanese origin and a guard who, for all his rank and decoration, was still regarded as a commoner by many in the Court. Therefore, he knew that she had to remain faced forwards, perceptive that ever mindful eyes would track her every move. Her extravagant silver and gold kimono moved very little as her delicate frame teetered along; her gold-laced sandaled feet moved quickly but with few steps. He knew she very much wanted to look back and admire the man she had grown to love but she could not, and the sensation was becoming difficult to fight in company, for them both.

  He walked to the right of and just behind Emperor Toshido Matsuda. The all black silk hitatare he was wearing flapped in the summer breeze, and unlike many of the other Court guards who would conceal both hands in the sleeves of their robe as they strolled, Judas preferred to keep his left hand rested on the hilt of his katana at all times, whilst in service to the Emperor. The weapon’s black ray skin handle, set behind an intricate square guard, was a thing of true beauty that crowned a lethal blade concealed by a slick black sheath all balanced through his white silk belt, or obi as it was better known.

  He felt a tugging at the bottom of his tunic and lowered his gaze to that of the boy.

  The child Emperor was dressed in full ceremonial clothing. A long yellow and black gown, embroidered all over with interweaving gold dragons breathing bright red fire around the elegant garment. Sashes to match draped down the sides and a black-based, red-topped hat adorned his head. He spoke to him, slow and soft, years of grooming and the teachings of proper social behavior serving him well.

  “Captain, tell me once again of how you climbed so high as an outsider to that of my protector today?”

  “Indeed, I will, Your Highness,” he replied, nodding with respect. “Well, Prince Akihiko, your father once passed on the great honor of allowing me to join the ranks of the Imperial Guard.”

  “And why did he do that?” he quizzed, although already knowing the answer to his favorite story.

  He placed his right hand on the boy’s shoulder, an act reserved for very few in the world, and dropped down onto one knee, to the child’s eye level.

  Expert eyes in the procession ahead noticed them stop, and responded likewise.

  He waved his hand and nodded, signaling all was well.

  The rear guard of the procession acknowledged and the entourage resumed their course, albeit at a much slower speed.

  “Well, you see, Your Highness, I was once out walking the earth, a lost soul, trying to find myself, trying to sense who I must be when all at once, I heard the sound of an almighty battle.”

  He was retelling the story as a father would to his child at bedtime, one last story of adventure before sleep would take its course.

  “Some very bad men had tried to hurt your father and mother and their guards’ numbers were dwindling fast.”

  A smile crept over the child’s face as with all young boys, regaled with such tales.

  “I ran to the scene of the battle,” he continued, returning to a standing posture, “I grabbed hold of one of the fallen guard’s swords.” His left hand moved from the comfort of his sword as he proceeded to imitate the battle with an invisible weapon, much to the boy’s delight, “And I began to dance through them all, cutting here, slashing there, blocking, parrying.” He acted out all of the moves, the boy’s gaze never leaving him as he performed the show. “Until I reached your father’s side and between us, we cut the bad men down one by one.” Seriousness crept over his face and with it, a darkness.

  The boy’s smile waned.

  “Until eventually,” he paused, arms still outstretched, the invisible sword hanging in the breeze, the darkness across his face dissipating, “There were none left. Adding my sword to the fight had saved your father and your mother.” He looked down at the boy smiling, turning his body round to face the child again. “I introduced myself to your father, who told me how grateful he was that I would come and rescue him, your mother and your young sister. He also said how indebted he was to me for saving his unborn child; for ensuring he would indeed receive the gift of life.”

  He winked at the boy.

  Emperor Matsuda smiled and clapped.

  A stronger gust of wind pranced through the pair as white magnolia tree petals danced around them to an unheard orchestra, the tall grass leaning and bowing to the Emperor.

  “Your father wished that I would never leave his side from that day forward, that I would protect him and his family for as long as my service was needed. He gave me shelter, food, warmth and a true sense of belonging, something I had not felt for a very, very long time. He was a great man and I shall continue to obey his wishes for as long as I am needed.” He looked out over the fields as if searching for something he had once lost, trying to remember a place in which he needed to be. He drew in breath and turned to the boy, “And that is how I came to be in your service, Your Highness.”

  The Emperor smiled. “So you respected my father?”

  He once again dropped down
to one knee. “Oh, very much so, Your Highness. I would have willingly given my life for that of your father’s.” He lowered his head and looked to the left, once again searching the fields before murmuring, “If I could.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Judas stood, laughing. “You ask many questions for one so young, even for an Emperor, err, Your Highness.” Remembering his place, he bowed and then smiled at the boy, “But can you run fast?” He set off at high pace, back towards the procession of royalty through the grass.

  The child laughed and gave chase to the Captain, eager to catch him, eager to show that even for one so small he could beat him, could beat any man; after all, it was he who was Emperor.

  The pair were laughing still as they regained their earlier position of two lengths behind the lead procession.

  Their antics garnered a stern look from the Guard Commander.

  The Captain took quick notice of the tone and regained his composure, helping the child to regain his also, nodding and smiling as he did.

  The convoy was nearing its conclusion, having taken a sightseeing tour of the outlying habitats surrounding the city walls. They were but a league away from the city gates and nearing the road that led up to them. A few peasants lined the road and, upon noticing the procession approaching, they bowed, paying respect to the Emperor.

  The Emperor waved regally, signaling for them to continue with their tasks.

  Judas smiled and remembered the words of Prince Akihiko to his son before his death. ‘My child, always treat your people well, and they will follow you for eternity in return. Show them strength when they need to be ruled and compassion when it is their time to weep, but always be a shining example and for that, they will love you, unquestionably.’ He had only ever met one other man that he respected as much as the Prince but he did not want to think of him today, preferring instead to remember the father of the Emperor, his teachings, his wisdom, his prowess with a blade.