Ascension: Children of The Spear: Book one

by Rhett Gervais

  The cardinal spoke in a deep baritone, the timbre of his voice resonating at a low octave. He could see by the way the cardinal looked at him that he knew everything that had occurred today. This discussion was simply to gauge what type of person Arthur was. “I won’t waste your time, Your Eminence, and I won’t lie to you. I am here to plead for the life of someone I love a great deal.”

  Cardinal Washington frowned for a moment before nodding his head in approval. “Blunt, to the point...very refreshing,” he said, looking past Arthur to the major bishop, who stood behind him. “He reminds me of you, Robert. I’ve gotten so used to these sycophants, like my assistant. I suppose that’s his blood you’re covered in,” he said, shaking his head.

  Arthur raised his chin in defiance, placing his hands behind his back. He tried to keep his voice level but his anger bled through from the memory while he spoke. “Your assistant was trying to hurt my friend. I gave him the choice to return to you for new orders or die, and he chose poorly,” he said with a shrug. “If it helps to know, he attacked first and I ended it mercifully. He didn’t suffer.”

  “He was always an overconfident idiot,” said the major bishop bluntly. Arthur turned to see him beaming with pride, his aged and pockmarked face looking almost childlike. “Why was the girl ordered killed, anyway? She is a valuable member of the corps. She sacrificed everything trying to stop the attack on D.C.”

  “I answer to the American people, Bobby, not you. Take that tone with me again, and I’ll knock the taste out of your mouth.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Eminence, but I am worried about Gwen; she is still not conscious—” said Arthur, interrupting the two men. It was clear that they had known each other for a long time. He had never seen anyone talk to the major bishop like that. Most were terrified of him, with good reason.

  Before Arthur could finish, the dark-skinned cardinal rose to his feet. He was a stocky, well-built man, solid like an oak. He placed a large hand on his shoulder, towering over him. “I’ll give you a bit of advice, son. The people we love leave us exposed to the cruelty of wicked men, cloud our judgment. We do things we would never do, and I would have thought that Bobby would have taught you this by now.”

  “I’ve tried, Your Eminence...”

  “Doesn’t matter; you’ll learn someday. You need to understand the situation here, son. I’m the head of the Council of Cardinals. It’s my job to answer to the American people, and right now they’re screaming for answers. Thousands died today, and if there’s one thing I know about my people, when a tragedy like this happens, they want blood, someone to cast aspersions upon. Your friend is responsible for a massive loss of life. The mob wants blood, Arthur, and I’ve decided to give it to them. Your friend’s death, while tragic, will serve the greater good of this nation.”

  Arthur narrowed his brow, upset but understanding the cardinal’s logic. People were emotional and their first reaction today would be to punish someone. Logical arguments would not work with an angry mob. They would have to give them something more, they would have to find a way to bring them hope. Thinking for a moment, he did his best to center himself and push his emotions aside, steady his breathing and still his features. When he at last spoke, he knew what needed to be done.

  “Gwen is the strongest member of Divinity Corps we’ve ever seen, Your Eminence, and to lose her would be a loss for the nation. If you look at the news footage before the explosion, she was clearly kicking the enemy in the teeth, breaking their lines. She was protecting people. How many more lives would have been lost if the Russians had taken the city? It would have been like New York all over again, millions dead or driven from their homes and made refugees. She stopped that from happening in D.C. Why not give the people a hero instead of a monster, tell them she saved millions instead of telling them she killed thousands? Make today a cause for celebration, a victory instead of a reason to mourn.”

  The cardinal frowned once again before nodding, rubbing his hand along his jaw in thought. “You’re a very smart young man, Arthur, I like you,” he said. Arthur could tell the more he thought about it the more he liked the idea. “I need to pray on this, discuss it with the rest of the Council. The Lord will show me the way, but I think it could work... God knows the country could use a hero right now. Bobby, come along, it looks like for now you’re my assistant again.”

  Watching them walk away, Arthur let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. He allowed himself a small smile and a brief spark of hope as he plopped down in the cardinal’s spot, the beveled leather still warm from his large frame. He was surprised he had gotten as far as he did without getting shot or worse. Better still that the cardinal was actually considering his plan. It was only now that he was sitting that he realized how tired he was. He had been running on adrenaline for the better part of the day and it suddenly caught up with him all at once. He let out a great sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, running his hand along the back of his neck, trying to rub away some of the grime.

  “Are you alright?” he heard a small voice say.

  Arthur opened his eyes to find a small boy, smaller than him, standing in front of him, a weary look of concern in his blue-green eyes. The child looked like he had never had a decent meal in his life. He was scrawny with pale freckled skin and white-blond hair, and he was dressed in a mishmash of what was clearly hand-me-down clothing that made him appear frumpy at best.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just a long day and my eyelids and I are having a fight about if I should be awake or not,” said Arthur, trying to give the boy a reassuring smile. “What are you doing here, where are your parents?”

  “They’re somewhere in the big room where we came in,” said the boy with a tilt of his head. He gave Arthur a questioning look, as if something were out of place.

  “Do I have something on my face? I know I’m dressed kinda weird,” said Arthur, suddenly paranoid of the child staring at him with such blatant curiosity.

  “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen you before,” said the boy, “and you seem to be a little old to be here, that’s all. Cardinal Stevens usually likes the older kids, but he prefers girls.”

  “Too old to be here for what—” stuttered Arthur, suddenly cold, feeling like Rodrigo’s crystal blade had just pierced his heart. He placed a hand on his chest and began taking deep breaths, trying to control the trembling that ran through his small frame. He leaned forward, his eyes looking everywhere at once. “Do you need me to get you out of here, take you back to your parents?” he asked in a harsh whisper, taking the small child by the shoulders.

  The boy looked at Arthur the way only a child could, like he was a brainless moron. “Why would I want that? They have really cool toys here and I can eat as much as I want.”

  Arthur didn’t want to hear any more. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, the queasy feeling of too much saliva bubbling in his mouth. He placed a steadying hand on the arm of the leather sofa, narrowing his eyes as he searched the face of the little boy for understanding. “You mean you want to be here? Do you know what goes on?”

  The boy sighed and began to speak to him in a tone you used with an animal or an infant. “The cardinals are nice, they never hurt us...they’re just lonely, and us kids make them feel better, and they take care of our families,” he said, speaking as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

  In a panic, Arthur stood, grabbing the small boy by his arm, eyes wide as he dragged him toward the heavy oak doors.

  “Hey, stupid,” said the little boy, struggling to pull away, “what are you doing, let me go, LET ME GO!”

  At the shout, Arthur stopped suddenly, his trembling hand releasing the boy, looking around to see the entire lounge staring at him, feeling like the world had gone insane and he was the only normal one left.

  The little boy looked up at him, his face rage-red, and kicked him directly in the shin. “You’re not nice, get away from me, stupid,” he said, stomping off as only a small child
could.

  Watching the boy run off, his mind was in a haze. He’d never felt so alone, so lost, the weight of the world on his small shoulders. He collapsed, sitting Indian-style on the polished granite floor, burying his face in his hands. He let the tears he had been fighting break through the dam, raining down on his already blood-soaked uniform.

  He sat for a long time, numb to it all, until a familiar shadow stood above him. “I’ve never seen you cry, even when I took you from your parents, not a drop, you remained strong,” said the major bishop, towering coldly above him, his hands hidden in the folds of his robes. “This girl has made you soft. I’m starting to agree with Cardinal Washington’s initial assessment that she be put down.”

  Arthur stood suddenly, his strength returning with his anger. “She has nothing to do with this, it’s the sick men we have to serve,” he said, wiping away his tears. “They should be murdered, not put in charge of the country.”

  “Be careful not to say these things too loud, boy, those words are treason,” said the major bishop, shaking his head. “I told you to leave, told you to get out of here before you got caught up in their machinations, and now your stupidity has gotten me caught in their web as well. But you had to be stubborn, didn’t you?”

  Arthur didn’t have the strength to argue. He merely shook his head. He didn’t care what punishments the old man would mete out. “What did they decide?”

  “To my surprise, Cardinal Washington has agreed to your plan,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “There are still matters to discuss, but there will be a news conference to introduce her to the press once she wakes up. You and the other active members of the corps who are not on assignment will do interviews proclaiming her virtues.”

  He his best to still his face, contain his excitement, but he couldn’t help but smile. After everything that had happened today, it was nice to have clear horizons ahead, as Gwen would say.

  The major bishop stared at him for what felt like an eternity, his face a mask. “What?” asked Arthur, confused. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, I’m just happy, sir, I can’t help but smile.”

  The older man took a deep breath, fumbling with something hidden in his red robes. “I’m sorry, Arthur, this is not my choice, I did my best to protect you, but there was a price to pay for your actions today.”

  Arthur was taken aback. This was a man who never apologized, who taught him that mercy was a weakness. “I don’t understand,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  Without a word, the major bishop produced the item that had been concealed in his robes, a tall bottle of clear amber liquid. Arthur began to tremble as he placed the bottle in his hands, unable to breathe, feeling like he was drowning. “They are waiting,” said the major bishop, his voice sounding small and far away.

  “I can’t…”

  “You can. The choice is yours, my child. If you want the girl to live…” he said with a shrug, his voice mixing with the din as he walked away.

  He stood alone, looking at the bottle for a long time, mesmerized by his reflection in the amber liquid. He thought he had come so far, his powers, having other men fear him, but he was the same small boy the major bishop had found not so long ago, still a slave to someone who had more power than him. What was it the cardinal had said, love is a weakness that leaves you exposed to the wickedness of cruel men.

  He opened the bottle and drank deeply. It was cool and sweet, giving him a warming feeling as it ran into his belly. He would do this for Gwen. After all his failures today, at least he could do this one good thing, he could save her, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 22: A Walk in Central Park

  Project Divinity Interview — Subject: Rowen Macdonald (Cont’d)

  “The destruction of Washington D.C., the loss of the president and Congress, stunned my father,” said Rowen. “He had grown up during a time when people trusted the government, and the city was a symbol to them, the heart of our democracy. To have it turned into a burnt-out shell—well. He took it as a sign of things to come.”

  “I’m curious, what did your father do when he found out about your friend Gibbs out there?” said the captain, narrowing his eyes.

  Rowen hesitated for a moment, not sure how much to tell. “Nothing. He said that Gibbs had behaved like an American soldier, hardworking, defending others. Valiant. He was part of the team and there wasn’t anything to talk about. He and Ari got into it a few times about it, but my dad had command and didn’t take any shit.”

  “What about you, Rowen?” he asked, speaking slowly, placing his chin over his steepled hands. “You think that boy out there is a traitor or a hero?”

  She could tell the fat man was fishing, but she couldn’t be sure for what. She didn’t know what to think about Gibbs anymore. She certainly didn’t know what to feel either. She waffled between wanting to knock his teeth out and wanting to knock him on his ass. One was anger, the other affection. “My dad trusts him, so I guess I do too,” she said, deflecting with a shrug. “Lots of us wouldn’t be here without him, and he paid the price…”

  Rowen could tell the piggish officer didn’t like her answer, the calm of the last few moments turning once again to bluster. “Alright, tell me about the shit storm at Central Park, whose genius idea was that?”

  “Well, sir, Cardinal Washington was more than happy to announce to us that the Council of Cardinals had valiantly stepped in during the nation’s time of need. He told us that now that we had reinforcements, it was time to step up. He ordered my father to attack,” said Rowen, a small smile growing on her lips at the memory of that conversation. “My father told him to shove it up his ass.”

  The captain leaned back in his chair once again, grinning like a cat. “I woulda paid good money to see the look on that stuck-up prick’s face when your daddy told him that.”

  “Cardinal Washington didn’t take it too well, sir,” she said, her smile growing wider, “but my father, he hated him so much, we all did. My dad eventually agreed to probing assaults, testing the enemy’s defenses, but most of all he wanted to tap into their comm array. There was the tower, and we needed to know what it was, and we were all tired of the information blackout we were living in. The only information we got was from the cardinal, and it was sparse at best.”

  The captain nodded solemnly, laying a hand on his massive gut as he leaned back to scratch an invisible itch under his chin. “Your father, he was a very cautious man, smart. I met him a couple o’ times, I liked him a lot. I didn’t think he would have been responsible for—”

  “That was Ariel, sir!” blurted Rowen, her anger at the memory surging. “I had spent weeks going back and forth with Timur, placing smart devices all over the target area so we would have a complete picture of everything. He and his brother and sister were just supposed to serve as a distraction, but he pushed too hard, went too deep…”

  April 2074

  It was spring in Manhattan and the harsh winds of winter lingered on, refusing to give way to the gentler breezes of the season. Rowen felt like it should have been warmer, leaves should have been budding on trees and flowers pushing through the dirt, but instead icicles still hung from eaves, and in many places ice made the ground treacherous. She shivered, bundled against the cold, her unruly red hair dancing like flames with each gust of wind. Waiting for her father, she huddled in the cold, keeping to the shadows. Rowen had arrived not long ago, parking in an alley just off Central Park West. It was a perfect hiding place, close enough to the action without being exposed.

  Gibbs had discovered the rusted news van, full of outdated communications equipment, most of it useless, but it did have a powerful wireless transceiver. It had seen better days, with its News Five logo having long ago peeled away. It was the color of rust and its solar-absorbing paint didn’t give much in the way of power, so they had hooked up a few batteries to make it viable. What counted was it ran, giving them a mobile command unit as long as they were careful. It had the advantage of looking crappy enough t
hat no one gave it a second look, perfectly blending in with all the other abandoned vehicles. With a little ingenuity, they turned it into a makeshift overwatch station that served as the backbone of their attack.

  Sneaking out from behind it, Rowen could feel a sense of excitement building. This would be the third attack they had made in less than a week, Mary Beth and her brothers having made it possible to fight back. Their power was amazing. Best of all Mary Beth, true to her word, had begun teaching Rowen every morning, not much yet, but it was more than she’d learned in a lifetime. They had managed two previous attacks, testing the Russians’ readiness, like poking a beehive and running away to see how deadly the swarm had grown. This time was different. Today’s plan was three separate attacks, one led by Mary Beth, the two others by her brothers. Their coordinated strikes would hopefully draw the bad guys from their real target, a comm relay that Timur had identified as hackable. If they did this job properly and inserted a backdoor, it could give them access to enemy communications and web traffic. It would be a game changer. Her father thought the whole thing was a long shot, but Cardinal Washington had been putting pressure on him to gather intel on enemy operations with the long-term goal of retaking the city.