by Platt, Sean
Hope didn’t like the way her uncle was dismissing John. She was about to say something when John held her in check with a glance.
“Do you know where the prince is?” John asked.
“Sure,” Gerald said, “in his castle in The Forgotten Kingdom.”
“Can you show me the way?”
“That depends; are you taking my niece?”
“Yes. He’s taking me.”
“Then no, I can’t show you.”
Hope sighed. “Please.”
Gerald raised both hands. “If I send you on your way, my sister will kill me.”
“Your sister?” Hope asked.
“Yeah, yer mother, Abalena.”
Hope’s heart went still in her chest. “My … mother?”
“Yes. She’s the one that sent us back out to find you. She’s waiting for you back in the Town of Jonah. She thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead. You just up and vanished long ago. We always thought Zol had something to do with it, though we could never prove it.”
One of the other men approached Gerald and whispered something in his ear. He looked to Hope, John, and Larry.
“Ride with us to Jonah, and tell us how you got here.”
Hope looked at John and Larry.
John shrugged.
“Okay,” Hope said as the men prepared their horses.
Thirty-Two
Caleb
They reached The Citadel at noon and were immediately ushered toward The Council chamber, a large room where Prophet Malachi — founder and leader of The Hand of the Seven Gods — waited at the Round Table, with three Elders who served as the Inner Council. The Elders’ names were a secret known only to Malachi — just one of many weird things Caleb didn’t like about this cult.
Raina and Caleb took their seats at the table.
As Raina updated them on the situation at Crow’s Nest, Caleb found himself staring at Malachi. The man was thousands of years old, but looked to be in his early forties. According to Raina, some Humkoer aged slowly, over thousands of years, while others matured at a more human-like rate. Nobody understood why, or even knew how long they’d live until around their twenties which way they would go. Those who aged slowly were considered blessed, and those who aged normally, cursed. More often than not, the cursed had lower stations — shopkeeper, farmer, soldier. The blessed were ushered into positions of importance — religious service, scholarly pursuits, knighthood, or as stewards of the land.
Legends claimed that The Gods cursed people with short lives as punishment to those families involved in magick, which was seen as an affront to The Gods, men tinkering with divine powers. Of course, this seemed like more bullshit created by The Hand to control the people, to keep them from using magick and learning anything not approved by The Church.
Prophet Malachi was rail thin with a pointy jaw, a smug expression, and bleach-white hair. His eyebrows were so pale they were almost nonexistent. And his eyes so blue they looked almost fake.
On Earth, Caleb would’ve thought Malachi an eccentric, perhaps one of those pretentious fashion-obsessed androgynous artist types. But here, he was all business, and that business was his religion — The Hand of the Seven Gods, a cult that supposedly served as the figurative, and sometimes literal, hand of the Seven Gods, using its knights, The Covenant of the Hand of the Seven Gods, of which Caleb was now a part, to both enforce The Gods’ rules and protect The Southern Realm.
The Citadel had seven worship chambers, one devoted to each God or Goddess, complete with a beautiful marble statue. A member of The Hand was also in each room to guide prayer and make sure the proper Deity heard it. A small donation was, of course, encouraged to ensure that the God or Goddess might be more inclined to act on the request. Some donations were money, and others favors.
Need luck? Pray before the idol for the Goddess of Fate.
Need better crops or a child? Pray to the Goddess of Fertility.
Need a bountiful fishing expedition? Pray to the God of the Seas.
Need someone dead? Pray to the God of the Night.
Of course, if the God or Goddess didn’t act, it wasn’t The Hand’s fault. It was either the person asking or that particular God’s wisdom, which could not be questioned.
It was masterful manipulation of the naive and frightened.
Back on Earth, Caleb had wondered how people could be so gullible. But here it sort of made sense. Many people were slaughtered during the four thousand year Great War. The North was invading The South, and many in The South were turning on one another, desperate for resources. Some smaller villages were rumored to have resorted to cannibalism. During those years most of the Valkoer and magick users, as well as any non-Humkoer, were either killed or escaped to The South.
It was a bloody war that could’ve been even worse had The Hand not stepped in and found a way to forge a treaty. The South conceded The Great War, agreeing to stay on their side of the ocean. The North would leave them to live their lives however they wanted so long as magick users and monsters were confined to The Forgotten Kingdom.
Being peacemakers had earned The Hand a tremendous amount of trust and devotion among the people of The South. The Hand had performed a miracle — reasoned with The North and forged peace among warring factions in The South.
It was hard to truly hate them. They did good things.
But they also did horrible things, such as using information learned during prayers to blackmail and manipulate others into doing their bidding. Like the mob, the KGB, and a cult coalesced into one.
Most days Caleb didn’t mind being part of The Hand, as the good usually outweighed the bad. And, if Caleb had learned anything with his Agency job, sometimes good people needed to do bad shit to keep the real bad guys at bay.
It was a thin line — one Caleb felt he navigated well.
Sure, he had to pray to Gods he didn’t believe in. Had to recite religious texts that seemed like silly fairy tales, and had to be around Malachi once a week during Inner Council meetings where he and Raina updated the Prophet and his Elders about secret missions that they would parse before presenting to the Citizens Council and the public who gathered in the chamber once a month. Other than that, it wasn’t a horrible job.
And, if Caleb was being honest with himself, he rather enjoyed Raina’s company — increasingly so as days went by.
It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. He didn’t even think he was capable of feeling anything for anyone after Julia died in his arms.
So he was surprised in recent months to find himself thinking about Raina when she wasn’t around. Anticipating their missions, and feeling disappointed when she was tasked to do something else.
More than once he thought she might have caught him looking at her in that way friends shouldn’t look at friends.
He wasn’t sure if he was attracted to Raina because of their familiarity — she was the only woman he spent time with every day — or because they were both Valkoer living among Humkoer, a bond made all the stronger for the general distrust of their kind.
Regardless, Caleb refused to act on his feelings.
Aside from a few possible flirtations, she’d never given him an opening to take things further. And if he misread her signals, his job would go from mildly uncomfortable to thoroughly unbearable.
Plus, he didn’t want to stop being around her.
So Caleb kept his feelings buried, just like his distaste for Malachi.
“What do you think?” Malachi asked in his nasally voice, breaking Caleb’s thoughts of Raina.
“Think about what?” Caleb said, embarrassed as if the entire Council, and Raina, could see what, or rather whom, he was thinking about.
“Do you think this is a rogue group from the Freelands, or do you think they’re from Under Harbor?”
Caleb nodded. “They could be from the Freelands, trying to incite war between us and Under Harbor. But I think it far more likely that this is the work of King Z
ol’s men.”
“King Zol?” said one of the Elders with an incredulous laugh. “Why would he incite a war he’d surely lose?”
“I don’t know,” Caleb said, though something about that notion felt right. “In either event, I’d post extra knights at each of the major cities.”
Another laugh from the same skeptical Elder. “Post troops? I say we march into Under Harbor, round up the Valkoer, and end this problem before it truly begins.”
“I think it’s too early to react like that,” Raina responded. “Especially if this is someone trying to get us to do exactly that.”
One of the other Elders looked at Raina with a furrowed brow. “So, you’re in agreement with Brother Caleb, that this isn’t someone from Under Harbor? And what evidence do you have?”
“None,” she said, though refusing to be meek in her response, “other than my gut saying that something isn’t right.”
“Something doesn’t add up,” Caleb agreed. “For one, why leave the bodies half-consumed? It doesn’t take that long to finish feeding. And yet they left much of the town half-devoured, flesh still intact and drawing scavengers. It’s almost as if they wanted the bodies to be found.”
The Elder countered, “You said that they turned some people in a cellar, leaving them behind as a trap. Perhaps the goal was to use the half-burned bodies to lure us and hadn’t counted on two of The Hand being Valkoer.”
Caleb watched Raina look away, practically biting her tongue rather than blast back at the Elder’s obvious disgust with their kind.
Back home, Caleb would’ve stepped in and defended them both against the man, but this wasn’t his home, and Raina knew the games one had to play far better than he did. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was normally shy in responding to criticism, particularly when other Covenant members gave her lip. But speaking to Elders and The Council required diplomacy, a skill that Caleb had never excelled at.
One of the Elders spoke, looking at Malachi rather than Raina or Caleb. “Might increased troops trigger undue alarm among the people? Perhaps cause them to question our efficacy in protecting them?”
“Good point,” said one of the other Elders.
Raina looked right into Malachi’s eyes. “There may already be some alarm once word travels about the massacre at Crow’s Nest. If we don’t increase troops and something does happen, then it’ll look like we’re not doing our jobs.”
One of the Elders smacked his hand on the table with considerable force, his face turning red, “That is exactly why we should send The Covenant into Under Harbor now and respond! To prove we’re not weak.”
“We can’t overreact, especially before we know all of the facts,” Raina shot back.
The Elder dismissed her with a wave. “Fffftt! They’re an illegal occupation flaunting their existence! They are only there because we allow it, with the provision that Jonah could keep the Valkoer and magick users under control. But clearly they are not. This is a provocation by an unruly child testing their limits. If we don’t step in now, the problem will only get worse. We will lose the people’s fear and respect.”
“What say you?” one of the other Elders asked Malachi. “Should we station guards or respond as the Treaty mandates, by going into Under Harbor and demanding they turn over their Valkoer?”
Malachi sighed, stroking the white hair of his short beard.
“I’m inclined to a patient approach, see what we can learn before committing to a course of action that could negatively affect the Treaty. Let me consult with The Gods and see what They say. In the meantime, I suggest an allocation of troops to each of the cities under our protection.”
“I agree,” Caleb said. “And in the meantime, why don’t you send Raina and me to Jonah, to find out what they know before we make any rash decisions?”
One of the Elders shook his head. “No, we don’t let them know what we know. We must go in strong.”
“Even if it’s a mistake?”
The Elder glared at Caleb. “Mistake? We don’t make mistakes. We are the divine Hand of the Seven Gods. We do as They instruct us. And They do not make mistakes, Brother Caleb.”
One of the other Elders said, “I propose an allocation of ten troops posted per city.”
“Ten?” Caleb repeated, unable to hide his disappointment. “You’ll need way more than ten.”
An Elder looked at Caleb with arched eyebrows. “And how many would you propose?”
His you implied that Caleb was an outsider whose opinion was not only unwelcome, but perhaps suspect given his biological similarity to the attackers.
“No less than thirty per city. Perhaps fifty at larger ones.”
“Fifty?” the Elder chuckled with a phlegmy cough, as the other two men scolded Caleb with their eyes.
He was about to defend his suggestion when Raina cut in.
“We can certainly spare thirty men per city, can’t we?”
One of the Elders looked at Caleb. “I’m reluctant to spread our resources thin at home, particularly when we don’t yet know all the details. Who knows what we’d be leaving ourselves open to. Our first priority is to protect The Citadel.”
The Elder turned and smiled with the slightest twinkle in his eye at Caleb when he said all the details.
Caleb wasn’t sure if the Elder was cleverly using their rationale for not storming the gates of Jonah against them, or if he was implying something else — perhaps some sort of collusion between Caleb and Raina and the Valkoer enemies.
“If you want to accuse me of something, then say it direct.”
The Elders all looked at Caleb as if he’d told them to fuck their Gods. No one spoke. Instead, Malachi glared at Caleb. “You will not address the Inner Council with a sharp tongue!”
In any other situation, Caleb would’ve told them all to fuck off. He didn’t take shit from his superiors at the Agency, and eating it from these self-important dicks was even less appealing.
But he also saw how quickly this could spin out of control without a bit of damage control.
“I apologize, Prophet Malachi, Elders.”
He paused for dramatic effect, then met their judging gazes. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit emotional after this morning. Not only seeing all those dead men, women, and children, but losing several of our Brothers and Sisters has me feeling like I’m not doing enough. I just don’t want to lose more good people to the insidious Valkoer. I’ll gladly be stationed at any city you may find me useful.”
He looked down at his folded hands, allowing his words of contrition to settle.
Malachi said, “You are forgiven, Brother Caleb. We are all on edge after the events of the past day. Please, excuse us while we weigh our options. Thank you, Brother Caleb, Sister Raina.”
They stood, nodded, and left the Council chambers, Caleb feeling like a child reprimanded by the teacher.
“Let’s walk,” Raina said in his head.
Outside the Inner Council Hall, they continued past the worship centers, the pillars, the giant statues of The Seven Gods, and the marketplace until they were out of earshot of anyone in one of several manicured gardens.
They stopped in front of a pond, and Raina met his eyes.
“Well, what do you think they’re going to do?”
“What do you think? You know them far better than me.”
“They have to see the wisdom of increasing the guards at the major cities. Right?”
“I would hope so.”
Caleb watched tiny white petals floating down from the trees into the pond’s bright blue water. Again he was reminded of how much he loved this place, though he hated the politics that ruled it. “Is there anyone we could talk to at Under Harbor, or in the Town of Jonah, who might be able to tell us if their Valkoer are responsible?”
“Yes, we could talk to Jonah.”
“Do you think he would know? I mean, could his people sneak out and do something like this without his knowledge?”
“It’s highly unlikely. Und
er Harbor exists because of him, because he took these people in when nobody else wanted them. He’s earned too much loyalty for people to keep something like this a secret.”
“I think we should talk to him. Before doing anything else.”
“You heard what the Elders said. We can’t just go talk to them.”
Caleb shook his head. “I don’t like this. I don’t know if it’s stubbornness, a misguided sense of infallibility, or worse. But to refuse a conversation before rolling in and rounding up Valkoer is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”
Raina sighed. “It is not our place to question the wisdom of The Seven Gods.”
Caleb looked at her, wondering how much was for show, in case someone was eavesdropping.
He moved the conversation into the privacy of their minds, something he’d rarely done, and always in the field when appropriate, unlike now, talking shit about The Hand.
Come on, you don’t really believe in all their superstitious nonsense, do you?
Raina looked at Caleb as if surprised. “Yes, yes I do.”
Really? I thought you were smarter than that.
“What?”
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just … it’s a racket, like any religion. A bunch of men getting together deciding how things should be, deciding what rules their supposed Gods have laid out, then using the naive followers to enforce those rules. It’s been the same story forever, and I don’t know, I guess thought we were on the same page.
“The Hand saved me. I was in a dark place when they found me. I wanted to die. They gave me The Gods. A way to channel my fear, my self-loathing, my guilt for not saving my sister, to make something useful out of all these negative emotions. To help others.”
But you see the darker side of things, right? How they use information gleaned from confessions to blackmail and control people. How they interrogate and lock away supposed enemies of The Gods. Hell, you almost killed me because I was an enemy.
“I’m sorry if you don’t have the faith, and I will pray for you. But, I also understand. It took me a while to believe. And I’ll admit that I don’t always see the wisdom of their ways, but I trust in The Gods. I trust that we do more good than harm. And we are the only light in this world to battle the evils of people like your father and brother. The world needs us, and our Gods.”