The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

  At last Stratetix found the strength to speak. “What can you tell us, son? Give us the whole story, and let us know how Ana fares! Is she well? Where is she? When will she return?”

  “You’d better sit down,” Teo said, drying his eyes, “because this one’s quite a story.”

  Everyone resumed their places at the fire as Teo joined them. Helena offered him the last piece of cherry pie, then reached for a coffeepot warming over the coals.

  “Is this Lina’s famous pie?” Teo grinned at the girl with the white-blonde curls. “It looks delicious!”

  Instead of answering, Lina just smiled at Teo. She had always been a little intimidated by the dashing captain whose life had become intertwined with her cousin’s. Now she regarded him with speechless awe.

  “So then . . . where should I begin?” Teo asked as he wolfed down his pie.

  Helena handed him a steaming mug of coffee. “Tell us everything. Start with the glacier.”

  “Right. The glacier.” Teo gathered his thoughts for a moment, then began to recount the epic tale. The story swept the exiled pair from the stormy, icebound peaks of Chiveis to a hidden hut in which they took shelter. There they made the fateful decision to enter the fearsome Beyond. Teo and Ana stepped hand-in-hand into the unknown future with nothing but each other and the Sacred Writing of Deu. Soon they found themselves in a kingdom called Ulmbartia. From there they were led to glamorous Likuria on the salty sea. Ana suffered in that land, Teo said, though he didn’t go into details.

  At last Teo found Ana on a lonely island and brought her to an ancient city called Roma. Enemies converged on them, and a life-or-death battle was fought outside the magnificent temple of the Christiani. Just when all hope seemed lost, Deu won the day and delivered his people. Now the leader of the Christiani, called the Papa, had sent Teo on a mission. While journeying through distant lands Teo discovered a map that showed the way to Chiveis. He had blazed a trail to his homeland so he could bring Ana back with him next spring.

  “But won’t the authorities kill you if you return here?” Shaphan asked.

  Teo grimaced. “I am concerned about that,” he acknowledged, “but I’m wondering if things have changed since we left.”

  Shaphan scoffed. “They’ve changed alright. The laws are more brutal than before.”

  “Yet that has caused unrest among the people,” Helena added. “The dynamic in the kingdom is different today than a year ago. There may be those who sympathize with you now. If we all join together, we might be able to resist the High Priestess’s oppression.”

  “I don’t care if I have to hide you in my barn and feed you like a pony,” Stratetix said. “I just want to see my little girl!”

  Teo smiled. “I’d like to aim a little higher for Ana than a barn. Maybe a nice cottage or something.”

  “We’ll pray for a happy outcome,” Lewth said. “Perhaps Deu shall grant it.”

  “Or perhaps not.”

  As Teo spoke those words he looked at Stratetix with a pointed stare. Stratetix realized Teo was asking him an unspoken question: Do you want me to bring Ana back despite the danger? You are her father—are you sure you want me to do this? He considered it for a moment, then said, “All of us are in Deu’s hands, Teofil. We must depend on him at every moment, trusting him day by day. Nothing can happen apart from his will.”

  Teo gave an understanding nod. Suddenly his face lit up. “Deu! I have so much to tell you about him! We’ve discovered some incredible new truths.”

  The listeners around the fire were eager, so Teo proceeded to explain. He described how he and Ana found the New Testament in the strangest of places: locked in the mind of a simpleton with an astonishing memory.

  “Oh, that’s just like Deu,” Helena said. “Tell us what was in the book.”

  “It revealed that Deu has a son.”

  A hush descended on the group. Stratetix could see amazement on the listeners’ faces as they contemplated the announcement. “What is the son’s name?” he asked at length.

  “He is called Iesus Christus. Deu sent him from heaven as a man to teach us truth and heal the sick and bring a kingdom of peace. But evil­doers killed him by nailing him to a wooden cross.”

  The listeners shook their heads in disbelief. “No! That’s terrible,” Lina said mournfully.

  “It is terrible,” Teo agreed, “but it’s not the end of the story. After three days in the tomb, Deu raised him to new life. Iesus Christus is not only the Pierced One. He is the Promised King predicted in the Sacred Writing.”

  The group marveled at this. “Where is his kingdom?” Shaphan asked.

  “It is not yet set up on this earth. But the King will return one day. If you believe the good news of his resurrection, you will be joined to Iesus. When you die you will live, just as he lives. And when his kingdom finally comes, you will dwell in it forever.”

  Stratetix leaned toward Teo, awestruck by what he was hearing. “The New Testament declares all this?”

  “Yes. The missionary Paulus wrote to the people of Roma and said, ‘If you confess Iesus as Lord and believe that Deu raised him from the dead, you will be saved.’”

  Helena d’Armand rose from her place and looked at the rest of the group. All was quiet as she met the eyes of each one. “My friends,” she said at last, “I declare to you right now: I believe in the resurrection. I confess it to be true. I take Iesus as my Lord.”

  Stratetix stood and grasped his wife’s hand. “I confess it too. This is good news indeed. I make it my own.”

  Lina shot to her feet. “And me!”

  “I too join the Christiani,” Shaphan said as he slipped an arm around Lina’s shoulders. “And our child will be raised in this faith.”

  Rosetta likewise rose and declared her belief. Lewth stood up last of all. “I will stake my life on this truth,” he said.

  Teo looked at the six people standing around him. He smiled broadly and spread his arms toward them. “Welcome to the eternal kingdom, brothers and sisters of Iesus.”

  Somewhere in the trees an owl hooted. The spooky sound reminded everyone they were deep in the forest and the hour was late.

  “We’re posing as a hunting party,” Stratetix said to Teo. “We planned to camp out tonight, as hunters sometimes do.”

  Teo shook his head. “I don’t think you should. The Royal Guard is patrolling the area. But that’s not the worst of it. I’ve seen Vulkainians in these woods.”

  “Vulkainians?” Stratetix felt a chill at the thought of those evil thugs. “What are they doing in such a remote part of Chiveis?”

  “Somehow they’re involved with the outsiders. The High Priestess is reviving an ancient Pact, though I’m not sure why.”

  Stratetix beckoned Lewth to come close. “Tell Teofil what you told us before.”

  “The High Priestess is creating a terrible weapon. It kills on a massive scale.” Lewth shuddered as he spoke.

  Teo put his hand on Lewth’s shoulder. “Can you find out more about it?”

  “I’ll try, Captain.”

  “If Vulkainians are in these woods, we definitely shouldn’t be here,” Stratetix said. “It’s a short boat trip back to Edgeton. We should get everyone into the village.”

  “I agree. Right away.”

  “Edgeton is locked up already,” Lewth pointed out.

  “The gatekeeper will let me in. We’ll say we got lost while hunting. He won’t like it, and it might sound suspicious, but it would be far worse to be discovered by a party of Vulkainians out here with no witnesses around.”

  Stratetix issued his instructions to the little group. Everyone quickly packed their belongings and made for the river. Though the moon was high and bright, ragged clouds scudded across it.

  “Oh! The scrolls.” Stratetix removed the satchel that hung over his shoulder. “I have to hide them before we go.”

  He walked to an oak at the edge of a grassy field. A hollow in the bole led to a dry cavity. Stratetix had just ne
stled the satchel inside when a gap in the clouds caused white moonlight to illumine the field.

  “Hey there!” shouted a voice. “Halt, whoever you are!”

  Stratetix started and looked up. Riders across the field spurred their horses toward him. He ducked into the shadows, his heart racing. Teo came to his side.

  “Let’s make a run for it!” Stratetix urged.

  “No! We’ll be captured. The women can’t get away in time.”

  “We can make it!”

  Teo shook his head. “They’re closing too fast. It’s one of us or all. You go! I’ll cover for you. They don’t know about the rest of us. Get to the boats and slip away.”

  “No, son, you can’t do that.”

  Teo’s hand gripped Stratetix’s shoulder. “You must live to see your daughter again with your own two eyes. I can handle this. Now go!”

  Teo shoved Stratetix into the dark forest, then turned and shouted to the Vulkainians, “I’m over here! I give up!”

  The Iron Shield stepped from his expensive hired coach and surveyed the Clan Boss’s estate on the island of Sessalay. He wore a fine tunic with gold embroidery on the sleeves, and his black hair was tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He rose to his full height, gazing down at the butler who met him at the portico of the manor house.

  “Your ride was comfortable?” the butler asked.

  The Iron Shield made no response, and the butler wilted under the stare. “This way to my master,” he said timidly as he turned away.

  A cobbled footpath led around the side of the manor. The Iron Shield refused to limp despite the wound in his foot, which was only partially healed. Each step stoked his lust for revenge. He clenched his jaw, trying to calm the rage that churned within his crowded soul. Be patient, whispered one of the voices in his head. The captain will come to you. Drop the bread crumbs. Leave a trail. Set out the bait Teofil cannot resist.

  The Clan Boss welcomed the Iron Shield to a veranda overlooking an expansive vista of orchards and vineyards. A warm sun shone down on this southern locale even though it was late in the tenth month. The grapes had all been gathered from the vines, but the olive harvest was in full swing, and the first clementines were also coming in. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” the boss asked, offering his guest a glass.

  The Iron Shield nodded but did not reply as he received his cocktail of fresh-squeezed orange juice and absinthe. Such aloofness put men of power in the weaker position as they tried to discern his intent.

  “So then . . . what brings you to my island?” the boss asked as the two men stood at the balustrade. “You wish to discuss religious matters, I hear.”

  The Iron Shield studied his host. The man who ran the international crime ring known as the Clan looked like a country squire who would rather tend olive groves than deal in extortion and slavery. He was middle-aged, balding, and potbellied. But don’t be fooled, the Iron Shield reminded himself. This man sits atop a powerful empire.

  “My name is Antonio of Roma,” he said, adopting his alias again. “I have high-level connections to the Society of the Exterminati.”

  The Clan Boss’s face remained neutral. “Interesting,” he remarked.

  He knew that already. The Clan is almost as good as we are at obtaining information.

  The Iron Shield pressed on. “We in our society have come to believe the heavens are disrupted. Where the gods once favored our endeavors, they now withhold their beneficence.”

  “Our business was upset this summer as well,” the Clan Boss acknowledged. “A foreign deity is aroused against us.”

  “Yes. And it is time to retaliate. We must cooperate to bring him down.”

  “We?” The boss laughed gently. “Our family enterprise does not enter into alliances with brotherhoods such as yours, Antonio.”

  “You are mistaken.”

  The statement was bold, almost rude, and the boss noticed it. Before he could respond the Iron Shield withdrew a leather thong from around his neck. He held up a vial of dark blood. “Your people and mine are already bound together.”

  The Clan Boss sucked in a breath and stepped back. “The Pact? That agreement hasn’t been invoked for centuries. I almost thought it was a legend.”

  “I can assure you it is no legend. I stand before you today as an emissary from the High Priestess of Chiveis. That is the kingdom whose leader sponsored the Pact.”

  “I know. Beaumont, he was called. A man with access to high-level powers.”

  “The very highest. And that same power now undergirds the priestess.”

  “Can she rebalance the heavens? We can’t afford to take another hit like the affair in Roma this summer. Revenues from the trafficking division plummeted.”

  “There is little the High Priestess cannot achieve.”

  “What would it take? It seems our interests may converge after all.”

  “Indeed they do. Fortunately, I have a solution that is mutually beneficial.”

  “Go on.”

  “Chiveis and Sessalay share a deity in common. The Chiveisi know him as Vulkain—the god of the fiery underworld.”

  “Mulciber?”

  “That is your name for him. He is provoked by the disregard we have shown him of late.”

  “He needs a tithe perhaps? A generous one?”

  “His hunger is more voracious than that.”

  The Clan Boss glanced up from his cocktail, eyebrows raised. “What else is there?”

  For a long moment the Iron Shield did not answer. At last he uttered a single word: “Virgins.”

  Silence hung over the veranda. When the Clan Boss finally spoke, uncertainty tinged his voice. “You mean . . . like the old days?”

  The Iron Shield nodded. The ways of the ancient pagans at Sessalay ran deep in the people’s bones. The old rites could easily be revived. “Like the old days,” he agreed. “Swallowed by fire on the sacred equinox, when dark and light are in perfect balance. You know how fragrant this gift would be to the god.”

  “Of course. But where would we get the girls? The peasants would revolt if we snatched their daughters.”

  “We could raid the houses of Christiani sisters along the coasts.”

  “The Christiani! They’re the ones causing all these problems!”

  “So this would be a fitting gift, would it not?”

  The Clan Boss rubbed his chin as he considered the proposal. “I have hit men working for me,” he mused, “but the Clan thrives on being invisible. Large-scale abductions aren’t really our specialty.”

  “Never fear,” the Iron Shield said drily. “The Exterminati have a little experience in this regard.” The warrior’s laughter came out as a deep, reverberant echo.

  “It will be expensive. You’ll need several ships. The raids will have to be perfectly coordinated or you’ll have the local militia on your hands. This is no simple undertaking.”

  “Leave that to me. We’ll hit the convents all at once, then rendezvous for resupply in Napoly after we have the women. It’s the nearest large port, and the authorities there are corrupt. They won’t bother us.”

  “The Exterminati will pay for all this?”

  “I was thinking Sessalay could defray the costs with some of its natural resources.”

  “What resources? Olive oil? Blood oranges? The profit margins in agriculture are thin.”

  “You have abundant brimstone in the interior. It could be mined and sold on the black market.”

  “Brimstone? You can’t be serious! That yellow rock has no value except to launderers and quacks.”

  “I have outlets I could exploit.”

  “Is that so? Well, there’s plenty of brimstone on this island. You’re welcome to as much of it as you want.”

  The Iron Shield put his drink to his lips to cover his smile. You fool! You have no idea of its power! He finished his cocktail and set down the glass. “My men will mine the brimstone over the winter. Meanwhile I will prepare a coordinated strike against the Christiani con
vents in time for the equinox next spring. Sixty-six women will be devoted to the great Mulciber—a holy number. And the centerpiece of our gift will be the woman the god hates most.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Her name is Anastasia of Chiveis.”

  “Anastasia?” the Clan Boss exclaimed, then abruptly fell silent.

  The Iron Shield flicked his glance toward his host. “You know of her?”

  “No—I’ve never heard of her before in my life.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure! But if this woman is important to the god, let her be brought here for the sacrifice. Do you know where to find her?”

  “We know whatever is important. The Exterminati have eyes in every head.”

  “In that case you can spare a few eyes to watch Anastasia’s convent until next spring.”

  “Her convent?” the Iron Shield asked mildly. “I thought you said you didn’t know the woman.”

  “I—I assumed she is one of those Christiani sisters you mentioned.”

  “Ah. Of course.”

  The Iron Shield turned away and stared across the orange groves. “The woman does indeed follow that wicked religion,” he said, leaning on the balustrade. “But she shall learn to appreciate a fierce new love when Mulciber takes her as his bride.”

  On the third day, Teo thought he might die.

  The Vulkainians had taken him straight to the High Priestess’s temple. It was high in the mountains of Chiveis, nestled against one of the three great peaks of the kingdom. A spire rose from the temple complex, a sheer spike of granite that thrust upward like a finger pointing the way to Astrebril. Teo’s cell was about halfway up the spire’s immense height. He had been provided with a cot, a straw pallet, and a blanket.

  But he had been given no food or drink.

  The first day had been uncomfortable. By the end of it Teo found himself fantasizing about a cool glass of water and a hearty meal. His stomach rumbled, and he swallowed often, trying to moisten his mouth. Restless sleep claimed him at last.