“Joe, if either of you ever need me—”
“We know, Stephen.” Joe wrapped his arms around him and gave a gentle squeeze.
Joe gasped, before snatching his hands back and stepping away. “Stephen.” Joe’s voice wavered as he now staggered backward. His eyes widened, and his lip quivered as he held his arms out, reaching for the wall to steady himself.
“What is it, Joe?” Stephen watched as Joe’s body began to shake.
“I need to sit down.”
Stephen grabbed him and helped him to a seat in the cafeteria. “Joe?” Stephen said more firmly.
“Let me help.”
Stephen turned to see where the deep voice had come from. A tall, muscular man with white hair and wearing a stone insignia on his collar kneeled next to Joe. “Do you know what’s wrong?” Stephen asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. He’s seeing something, but not like usual. He’s having a vision. He’ll be fine. We need to get him to his room.”
Stephen saw Patty and Vincent rushing over. “Is everything okay?” Vincent’s usual stoic expression was replaced with concern.
“I think so,” Stephen replied.
“Yes,” the tall man replied. “He’ll be fine. We just need to get him to his bed.”
“Can we do anything?” Patty asked.
“If you two want to bring some food to his living quarters, he’ll be hungry when he comes to. His visions can be physically exhausting. He’ll feel drained.”
Patty and Vincent headed toward the kitchen.
“Water too,” the man called out.
Vincent waved in acknowledgement as they hurried along.
The man turned to Stephen. “I’ll carry him. Will you get the doors?”
“I may not look it, but I’m stronger than you. I should probably carry him.” Stephen reached to lift Joe. He froze. His mind flooded with images of Joe. All at once, he knew everything about Joe’s gift that the man next to him knew.
“Do you understand?” the man asked.
Stephen nodded and went for the door as the man carried Joe into the hallway. Stephen followed.
“You must be Stephen. I’m Colvin Middleton. I’m Chief Arbiter here.”
“Arbiter, like a judge?” Stephen said.
“Yes, exactly. Arbiters handle disputes and preside over trials and discipline. All arbiters are prophets.”
They hurried down the hallway toward to the personal compartments.
“So, Joe really is okay?”
“Yes, he’s good. His gift is somewhat unique. Not many can see the things he sees. But you already know that much, don’t you?”
“I guess I do.”
When they arrived at Joe’s quarters, Stephen opened the door. Clothing items lay on the bed. Stephen moved them to the desk so Colvin could lay Joe down. Together, they situated pillows and blankets to make Joe comfortable.
“He’ll be fine here. I’m guessing it’ll be a little while before he wakes.”
Stephen glanced around the room. There was a picture of Jax on the wall, just as he remembered him when he stayed with them over the summer.
“What’s it like, Stephen?”
He turned back to Colvin. “What’s what like?”
Colvin nodded toward the bed Joe laid on. “That type of vision.”
“Uh, I . . .” Stephen wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t comfortable with everyone knowing so much about him.
“Most of us, prophets that is, have some type of communication from God. Sometimes it’s as simple as being able to notice things others don’t see. God reveals himself to us in this way.” Colvin sat in a chair on the other side of the room. The lamp next to him made his wrinkles more apparent. “Few of us actually talk to angels. Very few ever see God.”
“Well—” Stephen looked around for a chair. Pulling out the one from underneath the desk, he sat down. “It’s humbling. I knew in an instant just how insignificant I was. Yet, I felt so much love. We’re nothing compared to Him, compared to God. But, because of Him, our worth can never be measured. My body knew to kneel before Him. The angel Areli told me to get up. I imagine that had God Himself spoken to me in his glory-filled form, I would have burst into flames.”
One side of Colvin’s lips turned upward. His eyes softened. “That sounds amazing.”
“The truth is, I could spend the rest of my life trying to explain it and never get it right.”
“Stephen!” Patty called from the hallway.
“I’m closer. I’ve got it,” the Chief Arbiter offered.
Colvin stood outside the door. “Down here.” He re-entered, Patty and Vincent in tow. They placed the food in the compact kitchen area where only a sink, mini-fridge, and microwave were available. The smell of the food made Stephen’s stomach growl. He ignored it.
“What happened to Joe?” Vincent sounded concerned, which was something that didn’t come naturally.
Colvin looked at Stephen. “I know you three are close, but I don’t know just how close.”
Stephen nodded. “It’s okay. You can tell ’em.” Stephen looked back at Joe, noticing his eyelids twitch as though dreaming.
Colvin took a deep breath and began explaining. “This is an extension of Joe’s gifts. He also sees visions of things that haven’t happened yet, but not just any vision. Joe is what we call a harbinger.”
Patty and Vincent looked at each other. Patty’s face scrunched up and her eyebrows wrinkled, a look of confusion Stephen was familiar with. Vincent, however, looked lost in thought—his gaze drifted away. His eyes continued moving back and forth as if searching for something.
After a moment of silence, Vincent turned to Colvin. “A harbinger generally announces some type of change. So, what kinds of things does Joe see?”
“Big changes. And not always good.” Colvin looked to Joe and then to Stephen.
Stephen hadn’t really been paying attention. He had been watching Joe, wondering what he was seeing. Still, he was suddenly aware that everyone’s focus had shifted to him. In an instant, he soaked up their present thoughts and understood what was going on.
“Colvin doesn’t want to tell you that Joe has an unfortunate nickname—“Harbinger of Death.” He heard Patty gasp, but continued. “Often, the change that Joe sees is preceded or succeeded by death, but not always.”
“There is more to it?” Vincent asked.
“His visions are set off by contact. In other words, whatever he’s seeing or saw has to do with me.” Stephen continued looking at Joe, tempted to try and see inside his mind.
“How long before we know?” Patty asked.
Stephen looked at her. He could tell from the tone in her voice she was working hard to hold herself together.
“Joe,” Colvin started, “will come to in an hour or two. But, it may be awhile before he can fully process what he saw. It’s taken as long as a week. Even then, there is always room for interpretation.”
“But we need to know!” Patty didn’t contain her panic any longer. “We just went through so much. How long do we have? The guys are still in training.” The more she spoke, the faster and louder she got. “We need answers.”
Stephen sprang from his seat and headed for the door but kissed Patty on the cheek before leaving the room. He heard Patty call out behind him.
“Where are you going?”
“To get some answers.”
TRIALS OF THE MIGHTY
Chronicles of Stephen Book 2
About the Author
Kenyon T. Henry lives with his family in Northwest Georgia. He has been involved in the community, having worked with youth, Rivers Alive, and is an active member in church. His hope in writing “Choice of the Mighty: Chronicles of Stephen” is to leave a positive impact on those who read Stephen’s story.
Book 2
TRIALS OF THE MIGHTY
Prologue
Pastor Benjamin Buchanan yanked his red cloak off his shoulders, tossing it across the large table where he and the counc
il members had often met in years past. He glared at the head councilman, Sam, who stood tall stroking his goatee, his black hair flowing over his white robe. “What on earth were you thinking?” Pastor Buchanan barked.
Sam showed no expression and remained silent.
“Sam, I am wanting an answer. I trusted you to keep me informed and manage things while I was away. When Stephen and his abilities became known, I told you how important he was to us. I’m certain he’s the key to defeating Fallen in the coming battle. You know the stakes.”
Sam nodded. “I know. If Fallen wins, the Beast will rise to power and the Tribulation begins. Time will have run out for humankind. But we’ve never lost.”
“Don’t be so foolish,” the pastor shouted. “We know it will happen one day. But it doesn’t have to be this time. If we win, it should set them back another twenty years, maybe more. Now, I want an answer for your actions. Why didn’t you vote for Stephen to join us here in Enclave?”
“Pastor Buchanan, you have known me for years. Please believe that I thought it was the best way to keep Stephen safe. Though I respect your wisdom as the David, I believed that if we rejected him as Mighty, perhaps Fallen would not see him as a threat and leave him and his friends alone.”
“Sam,” the David replied, “that was foolish. Stephen is more special than anyone knows. Waltz knew that, which is why no one, not even the boy himself, knew Stephen belonged to Waltz’s bloodline until it was necessary.”
Sam looked thoughtful a moment and stroked his goatee once more before asking the question Pastor Buchanan knew would come. “How long have you known about Stephen?”
Pastor Buchanan sighed. “I’ve known since the day Waltz learned he had a child—the day he saw Layla and realized she was pregnant.”
He knew Sam and the council would not like having been kept out of the loop, especially when Stephen’s powers emerged. But his deep friendship with Waltz over the years had all been in an effort to protect the young boy until the time came. He had watched from a distance in anticipation, but never interfering in Waltz’s relationship with Stephen.
“Waltz found out and came to me for advice. He wanted to be with Layla and the child. I went to Oracle. Oracle showed us the boy would grow to be different, and would have great power. We also saw we had to hide him. So, I used my power of protection as a priest to shield him from detection, which also hid his power from himself, until he turned eighteen. Waltz had his own memory altered so that he would not remember the child Layla carried was his. Waltz received Layla’s letter nine years later, explaining she was ill and that he was Stephen’s father. That’s the moment he learned of Stephen for the second time. Waltz immediately returned, hoping to talk with Layla. That poor man never stopped loving her.”
Pastor Buchanan, realizing he had gotten lost in his thoughts, looked back at Sam. “Cancer took Layla before Waltz had received the letter. He found Stephen and raised him, never telling him the truth.”
“I thought Oracle was a myth,” Sam said.
“No, not a myth, Sam.” Pastor Buchanan waved his hand, dismissing the idea. “Oracle is very real, and very hidden. I was told Stephen would have two mentors, and both would be priests. He also said the second would finish what the father had begun.” The old man anxiously tapped the table with his finger. “That’s when we knew what had to be done. Waltz had to forget Layla was pregnant. It was the only real way to protect Stephen.”
“You are the second mentor,” Sam asserted. “This means you must see this through.”
The old man chuckled at Sam’s growing comprehension of the situation. “Yes. It falls to me to watch out for him and help him grow. Waltz was always a mentor to Stephen. Stephen only became aware that Waltz was his biological father after Waltz was killed.”
He played with the rim of his glasses and continued. “We worried when Stephen disappeared. But when he came back, we knew it was time for him to know the truth. Waltz worked to help him learn control of his gift. Still, we knew Stephen would need more help. That’s why Waltz had already been working with Vincent, although Vincent didn’t realize it. Waltz knew Vincent’s mother was Elizabeth Marie. He also sensed Vincent was a priest. So, he made sure that Vincent and Stephen spent time together and developed a friendship. Stephen needed a priest to help keep him centered. Waltz and I both knew his time was drawing near.”
“So, you two arranged their friendship?”
“No, absolutely not. Waltz only arranged the introduction.”
“And Patty?” Sam asked.
“Patty was not planned. Their relationship happened as normally as anyone else’s might.” He looked up and noticed another council member had entered, an elderly gentleman near his own age. “Charles, his friendship with your son, Alistair, was also happenstance.”
“That’s good to know. Alistair has a bright future ahead of him. Stephen is on a different path. I don’t want Stephen to be a stumbling block to Alistair.”
“Rest assured, their meeting had nothing to do with me,” the David offered. “Their friendship is genuine.”
Charles smiled and nodded. “I didn’t mean to intrude, Benjamin—I mean, David. But, some of the elders have arrived. They’d like to know what has happened.”
“We’ll be out in a moment,” Pastor Buchanan replied.
Charles gave a nod and left the room.
Pastor Buchanan shook his head. “Charles and I go way back. But sometimes I think he’s a little too involved in Alistair’s affairs.”
“What about Bernie and his nephew?” Sam continued. “Did you know they had fallen?”
“No.” Pastor Buchanan tried to control the emotion in his voice. He had helped to train Bernie when they were both younger. He remembered feeling pride watching Bernie’s nephew, Bernard, join the Mighty. “Waltz sensed something strange, more and more, after Bernie’s brother died years ago. He took it hard and became distant. I thought that’s all it was. We both knew Bernie worked to keep his nephew from this life. At some point, however, Waltz stopped trusting him. There was never any suspicion of Bernard. He and Stephen grew up together. They were best friends before Stephen ran away. Bernard’s involvement in Waltz’s death was a surprise to us all.”
“Do you know what class Stephen falls into?” Sam’s voice cracked. “He clearly has abilities of both prophet and warrior classes. Which is his primary and what is he simply sensitive to?”
“Sam, old friend . . .” The David snatched his cloak from the table. “He’ll need to be tested to know for sure. Now we should go.”
Together the two walked back out into the open meeting room. The David looked around at the council members, giving no recognition to the elders just yet. “I know there are reservations about Stephen. He is different, much more than any of you know. Half of you voted against him being Mighty. But, he should be treated different than any other descendant of the bloodlines that has chosen to follow Christ. His defeat of Bernard and whoever is pulling the strings is only temporary. Now that they know he will not join them, we can expect they’ll want him dead. But, as the angel Areli showed, Stephen is the key to giving humanity more time on this earth. If we fail, the Beast will reign.
“Stephen’s friends are important too. Alistair needs to be sent to the field to find out what he can. We all must help him and remain vigilant. Stopping Fallen from influencing the human world from the shadows is no longer good enough. If they win this battle, they’ll finally step out of the shadows, bringing the darkness with them. Their attempt to wipe out an entire bloodline was a bold move. Stephen’s battle with Bernard was only the beginning.”
Pastor Buchanan threw the cloak of the David around his shoulders as he left the room. “God only knows what’s coming next.”
Chapter 1
Stephen walked down the corridor located beneath the streets of Washington DC, eager to begin combat training. Fragments of history, rules and regulations, and structure of the Mighty continued to swim around in his head. He h
oped a demanding workout would help clear his mind. Since he made his choice to service as Mighty, a soldier of God in the fight against Fallen, he hadn’t seen any fighting at all, much less had the opportunity to engage in combat.
A group of teenagers passed by as he neared the training wing, which did little to detract from the humbling knowledge that all the other students, apart from Vincent, were much younger than him. It didn’t bother him too much. Still, fitting in and finding his rhythm had been harder than he had expected. He was so distracted: by his much younger classmates, Waltz’s death, Bernie’s imprisonment, Bernard’s whereabouts, and even his relationship with Patty. He found it hard to stay focused, especially because he was the one responsible for the fate of the human race. What did they expect him to do? How could he defeat Fallen when he hadn’t even been able to save Waltz?
“Hey! Stephen!”
Stephen turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. Edge, a lanky man about Stephen’s age, stepped from a room into the hall, wearing his usual gold-colored uniform, which signified warrior class. Stephen waited for his history teacher and friend to catch up.
“Hey, Edge. How’s it going?”
“I can’t complain. I saw you walk by and thought I’d take the opportunity to catch up some. I mean, you and Vincent don’t really have downtime, having to double up on normal class time.”
“Yeah, I guess so. We don’t have the luxury of time that our younger counterparts do.” Stephen nodded toward the next group of kids walking by. A taller teen with dark skin waved at him. He waved back.
“I’ve been wondering how you feel about everything.” Edge shifted his dark, shaggy hair out of his eyes as they continued walking toward the training room. “I know you’re barely getting to some of the more exciting stuff, combat and ability training, but how’s everything going?”
“Let’s see.” Stephen grinned. “I’ve been underneath DC here in Enclave for the past six weeks. I know almost no one, except for Patty and Vincent. I’m still getting use to the idea that I’m a descendant of King David’s mighty men from the Old Testament. My best friend from childhood is now a Fallen . . .” Stephen sighed and scanned the area. “There is a bright spot in all this. I look around, and even though he’s gone, I feel closer to Waltz. I know him better now than I ever did while he was alive.”
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