by Tom Mohan
Sara knew of what he spoke. She had often questioned the love of Ash-Shaytan when his word spoke of the massacre of thousands in his name. She still struggled to come to terms with cruelty in the name of love.
“Are you sure you wish to know about your parents, young Sara? In time, you will have to know. But now does not have to be that time.”
Sara nodded. Of course she wanted to know.
“Very well.” Father Caleb stood and strode to an ornate desk, where he picked up a small bell and rang it. At once, a door she had not noticed before opened and another man entered. Sara recognized Bishop Joshua immediately. The man’s size alone gave away his identity. Easily the tallest, widest Brother in the Keep, Bishop Joshua was the ever-present companion of the Holy Father. Officially, he the Holy One’s adviser, but it was hardly a secret that the huge man also served as a bodyguard and the doer of any dirty work that needed to be done. Sara felt on edge in his presence.
“Young Sara, I assume you are familiar with Bishop Joshua, yes?” The old man did not wait for her reply. “You will go with him. Though I assure you no physical harm will come to you, the ordeal will not be pleasant. I give you one more chance to change your mind.”
Sara fought to still the shaking in her legs. Was this a test to determine her worthiness to fight the enemies of Ash-Shaytan? Not wanting to risk sounding afraid, Sara nodded and turned to face the huge Bishop. Joshua grunted and stalked back through the door from which he had entered.
“May Ash-Shaytan be with you, child,” she heard Father Caleb say as she followed her guide from the room.
WHEN SARA PASSED through the door, she noticed it did not lead to another room or a hallway exactly, but to a sort of tunnel carved out of stone. She found this strange, because Father Caleb’s apartments lay high up in the Keep and none of its walls butted against a cliff face. How, then, could she be in a stone tunnel? She sensed they were moving down, though it was impossible to be certain in the darkness. Only a small orb in Bishop Joshua’s hand illuminated the passageway, enough for her to follow but not bright enough to reveal anything beyond their immediate surroundings. Bishop Joshua moved quickly and confidently in the dark. The next thing Sara noticed was the temperature. Father Caleb’s room had been quite comfortable, but the temperature dropped at least twenty degrees the moment she stepped into the tunnel, and it seemed to grow colder with each step she took. Sara desperately wanted to ask where she was being taken, but the thought of engaging the huge man in conversation overwhelmed her frayed nerves. Once, she turned and looked behind her, but the darkness was impenetrable. Pulling her light tunic tighter, she hurried after her guide.
Sara lost all track of time in the darkness. It felt as though they had been traveling for miles. And, as far as she could determine, the tunnel had not changed at all. Bishop Joshua remained silent. His long strides never slowed as he continued his tireless trek to wherever it was he was leading her.
Something about the tunnel wall caught Sara’s attention. She gazed at it as she walked, trying to figure out what seemed different. It took a moment for her to realize that she could actually see the wall. The tunnel was growing brighter! She breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of exiting the dark claustrophobic tunnel and emerging back into the light. If this was a test, and she was beginning to think it might be, it might not be as bad as she had feared. After all, she had never been afraid of the dark, and it would take a lot more than a scary man and a tunnel to shatter her nerve. She prided herself on her bravery. Timid girls who always ran to the boys for protection annoyed her to no end. If the boys wanted those kinds of girls, they could have them. She was not going to play that game.
She forced her mind back to what was happening in the tunnel. This just as well might not be a test. Her parents might really be in trouble. Either way, she needed to keep her wits about her and pay attention. She tried to see around the hulk of the man before her, but he blocked out whatever lay ahead. Sara felt certain the welcome illumination was not natural light. The tunnel was growing warmer as it grew brighter.
Without a word, the Bishop closed his hand over the glowing orb, its light no longer necessary. Sara slowed her pace, putting some distance between herself and her guide, which allowed her to better see around him. Just around the Bishop’s massive arm, she could detect an opening to a larger space. Finally, they entered a cavern in which the walls themselves glowed with a cold blue light. As she passed from the tunnel, the Bishop spun to face her, the blade of a large knife flashing before him. Sara reacted from instinct and ducked. Before she could move any further, a huge hand wrapped itself in her hair and lifted her to her toes. Again, she saw the flash of the blade and felt it pressed tight against her throat. Never before had she been made so helpless so easily. Her confidence faded as fear moved in to take its place.
“So you wanna know what yer parents are up to, do ya?” Joshua lowered his face within inches of Sara’s, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “There be a price to pay for such knowledge, little girl.” Sara felt the knife tighten against her throat until she knew that it had to be slicing into her flesh. A moment later her fear was confirmed as he pulled the knife away and she saw the wet stain of her own blood, more black than red in the dim light. Sara gasped as he pulled her head back, opening the cut wider. She could feel warmth run down her neck to her chest. Fear gripped her at the thought that she had been brought all this way just to be killed. She struggled in the huge Bishop’s grasp, but his strength was far greater than hers. She felt like a fly in a spider’s web, hopeless and doomed.
“Quit yer fightin’ girl. Yer just makin’ this harder than it needs be.” Joshua spun her around and tossed her to her knees as though she were nothing more than a rag doll. Free of the Bishop’s grip, Sara’s hand went to the gash in her throat. Though her fingers came away covered in blood, she didn’t think the cut was as bad as she had feared. Confident that she would live, at least for the moment, Sara lifted her head and gazed around at the small cavern hewn from stone unlike any she had ever seen. The walls, the ceiling, and even the floor glowed with eerie bluish light.
Still on her knees, Sara lowered her hand to the floor. The blue light began to pulse, and a cold numbness crept into her hand and up her arm. Alarmed, she pulled her hand away. As quickly as it had come, the numbness left. She looked down at the space her hand had just vacated and saw her blood smeared there. A moment later, the floor itself became fluid and pooled around the red smear. Then a drop of blood from the gash in her neck fell into the shimmering blue light beneath her and made a large splash. Another followed, and another, each one causing ever-increasing ripples to flow outward from the center. She was aware of more blood dripping into the mercurial pool, but the rippling glow clouded her awareness, disorienting her. On one level, Sara knew she needed to pull away, to regain control, but she couldn’t exert the effort to do so. She felt small and weak, a lost child in need of protection. Part of her loathed this feeling. She had spent her life proving her strength. She could take care of herself. Yet, another part of her longed for the simplicity of a life in which she didn’t have to be strong all the time.
Then the face of her mother, loving and beautiful, came into view. Sara reached out, but the image receded, just out of reach. She followed, as though in a dream, floating along as she followed the image of her mother through the rippling light. Gradually it dimmed, and shadows formed around her. Her mother’s movement slowed, and the shadows solidified into trees. She was in a forest, and she knew she was being chased. No, not chased—herded. No matter where she ran, they were there, herding her to wherever it was they wanted her to be. Sara felt the fear that radiated from her mom as she ran blindly through the thick underbrush, fighting against the branches that reached out to snag her clothes and scratch her face.
This forest was nothing like the woods that surrounded the Keep. She and her friends often hunted and explored those woods. Sometimes Master Eleazar even held training exercises
there. The forest in this image, however, loomed dark and foreboding. She could sense things watching her, things that wanted nothing more than her destruction. She knew these feelings came from those who sought to annihilate Ash-Shaytan’s people. The hatred she felt directed at her was as murderous as the horrible weapons the enemy used on her people.
The image of her fleeing mother halted before her, but Sara couldn’t stop, and she slammed into her mom’s back. Sara’s vision went dark. And then, just as quickly, she could see again. Her mother no longer stood in front of her. She tried to turn and look around, but she still couldn’t control her actions. Her chest lifted and fell heavily with each breath, which was strange because she hadn’t felt out of breath until this very moment.
A sudden impact to the middle of her back sent Sara stumbling forward. She somehow managed to keep her balance, spinning around to see who had shoved her. The movement felt strange. She wanted to turn, but the timing felt off, as though her intended motion was not quite in time with the actual move. She had just enough time to detect the form of a man before something connected hard with the side of her face and sent her spinning in the other direction. This time she would have gone down, except for a strong hand that clamped around the back of her neck and held her upright.
Sara fought to remain conscious. But again, something wasn’t right. Her ears rang from the blow, and dots of light danced across her vision, but she felt aware and lucid.
What’s going on? Where did Mom go?
Sara’s hand cupped her stinging face where it had been struck. As it passed before her eyes, something grabbed her attention—a wedding band on her ring finger. She had never worn a ring on that finger before, or anywhere on her left hand as far as she could remember. But the ring looked familiar.
The truth hit Sara like a bucket of ice water. She couldn’t see her mom because she was experiencing the scene as her mom. Father Caleb had said she would know what happened to her parents, and it seemed she was about to. She shuddered at the feeling of complete helplessness. If her mother was about to die here, Sara would be forced to experience it with her.
The sting of rough branches slapping her face brought her back to the harried scene. She was being forced through the woods, used as a shield to blaze a trail in the underbrush for her captor. She stumbled repeatedly, but felt her mom’s strength returning. Sara wished she could hear her mom’s thoughts, know her plan, but she only experienced the physical sensations of the body she inhabited. She studied the hands that were held up before her to protect her face and wondered that she did not know them better. She had so much to learn about her parents, so much to share, and this evil war had taken that from her. She had already lost so much time. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since they sent her off to the Keep so they could join the defenders.
Finally, the trees parted, and she was dragged into a clearing and shoved to her knees. She knelt in the dirt, gasping. Her head hung, face hidden behind a curtain of dirty brown hair that could have been Sara’s own. Her captor pulled her arms behind her and pressed her face into the dirt as he tied her wrists. Once her arms were immobilized, he jerked her to her feet and spun her around to face him.
“Well now, Mrs. Burke, it looks like we finally get a moment together.”
Inwardly, Sara cringed back from the face that loomed before her. But the physical form of her mother did no such thing.
“Go ahead and kill me,” her mom said in a steady voice. “There are thousands more just like me out there. You and your vermin can’t kill us all. Ash-Shaytan will win.” Sara could almost feel the defiance that must have shone from her mother’s eyes, and pride welled up in her.
The man, however, did not appear impressed. His lips formed a thin smile that chilled Sara. She knew this man from somewhere.
“Ash-Shaytan is a has-been god with has-been worshipers. His time is long over, and my master’s is just beginning. Besides, I really don’t have to kill them all. Most of your weak sheep will follow me willingly once they see what I have to offer. You think outdated religion makes people happy? I’m afraid you are greatly mistaken.” He laughed lightly as he raised one finger to stroke the cheek of the body Sara was encapsulated within.
This time, her instinct to flinch back was shared by her mother in almost perfect unity. Then, some movement behind her caused Sara’s mom to turn. A pair of black cloaked and hooded figures dragged a struggling form into the clearing. Sara felt the cold dread that was rumored to follow shadow spawn sink into her, even in her semi-present state. She shivered, and her mouth grew dry. Sara had no idea how many times her parents had faced such creatures, but she knew she hoped never to have to again. My Lord Ash-Shaytan, these are what we are being trained to fight? We have no chance!
Sara hoped for some sign from her god, some feeling of peace or confidence that his people would be victorious over those who opposed him. But no sign came. She was alone. She could feel her mother trembling, though she struggled to maintain an outward calm.
The spawn approached their leader and tossed the figure they were dragging to the ground. It was a man with a hood over his head dressed in a tattered uniform matching the one worn by her mother.
“John!” That was her father? The body looked right, though she had seen so many wearing the uniform that, to her, it could be anyone. Her mom, however, had no doubt about the hooded man’s identity. “John, please. Talk to me.” Sara could feel the panic begin to set into the body in which her consciousness resided.
Her captor waved his hand, and one of the spawn grabbed the hooded man, pulling him to his feet. The man wobbled in place, and Sara gasped at the blood that covered the dusty hood.
“Laura?” a weak voice said from behind the hood. “Laura?”
“I’m here, John. Right here.” Sara felt her mother’s heart rate increase as she looked at the wretched figure of her husband. And, though she still could not read her mom’s thoughts, she felt the strong undying love her mother felt for her father. It surprised Sara that she had not noticed how strong her parents’ love was before. Her parents must have been through many life-or-death struggles together since she had last seen them.
“You two have been a great thorn in my side,” Sara’s captor said. The thin smile returned. “But no longer, I’m afraid. No longer.”
Sara observed helplessly as her mother’s body struggled to pull away from the strong hand that held her. “What you do to us doesn’t matter, Manasseh.”
Manasseh? The Manasseh? Sara cringed at the name. Surely this could not be the Manasseh of legend, the avenging angel of the dark god. He certainly did not look like an angel, dark or not. Then again, here she was inhabiting the body of her possibly dead mother, so who was she to say what was real and what was not?
Manasseh’s smile widened and his eyes flashed. Sara saw red light behind the dark irises and felt the air around her grow colder. Slowly, Manasseh lifted his right hand, which emanated the same glow that shone from his eyes. Her mom flinched as the hand brushed within an inch of her face. Then, so fast that Sara nearly missed it, the hand slammed into her father’s chest and disappeared inside of it. Her mother let out a shriek of rage and torment as the hooded form of Sara’s father stiffened. A gasping croak escaped the hood as his body went rigid. Then, Manasseh’s hand withdrew from the chest, clenching something in blood-covered fingers. As Sara focused on the hand, her father’s body slumped to the ground and lay still. Her mother groaned.
Manasseh held her father’s heart in his fist. He lifted the heart and held it in front of Sara’s mother’s face, his fingers squeezing the organ that had so recently given life. Sara’s entire body shook now, whether from fear or rage she could not be sure. Before she could react, Manasseh’s other hand raised, glowing hypnotically. Sara wanted to shrink back, to escape the death that hovered before her, but her mother stood solid, refusing to budge. Sara felt a power flow into her. Her vision took on a blue tinge as an incredible force she had never imagined sc
reamed from inside of her to be set free.
“Ah, there it is,” Manasseh said. “I was beginning to wonder if you really had the power. Alas, too little, too late, I fear.” He laughed, softly at first, and then louder. “Oh, you poor stupid woman. Did you really think I didn’t know? I know all about her.” He lowered his face until his nose nearly touched hers, his eyes locked with her own. “I know all about you, little Sara. And I’m coming for you next.”
Sara felt a sudden pain in her chest like nothing she had ever imagined. All breath was forced from her lungs as her body jerked with the strange power that had invaded her.
It’s him. The man from my dreams. He really is coming.
The power exploded within Sara. But, as Manasseh had said, it was too little, too late. Her vision began to darken into a tunnel that grew ever longer, until the end fell out of sight and her world went dark.
You took a chance showing her that,” Lagos said. “She could have proven too weak to handle such an experience. It could have broken her.”
Agibus shrugged. “Then she would have been useless to us anyway. It was a necessary risk.” He turned to where Lagos hovered in the shadows. “Any weakness in her must be rooted out and eliminated. Any fear must be crushed. To be of any use to us, the girl’s hate must drive her. Anything less will lead to certain failure.”
Lagos did not respond, but Agibus saw by the shifting of his second’s shadowy form that something still bothered him. Lagos rarely assumed human form unless absolutely necessary, and Agibus knew he considered his own affinity for the form to be a weakness. That suited Agibus just fine. Let them all think him weak. It worked to his advantage.
“Yes? You have something else?” Agibus asked.
“In order to release the Bene Ha ‘Elohim, the girl must sacrifice that which she loves most. Yet, we are driving her to hate that very person.” He paused. “Are you certain casting John Burke as Manasseh is the best course?”