Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  “Stephen?”

  Stephen turned around to look at Jax, who remained seated. He had forgotten about him.

  “Yeah, Jax?”

  He stood up and threw his arms around Stephen. Stephen hugged him back, as the lanky young man dropped tears onto Stephen’s shoulder. Then Jax pulled away and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “We’re family, you and me. You need anything, you let me know. A’ight?”

  Stephen smiled. “You can count on it.”

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Stephen and Vincent began private sessions, learning more about their gifts. Until the council decided on the best teachers for the two, they were given books to read, and met with the usual trainers to help them understand all the Mighty knew about the three different classifications and various subsets in each. Prophets could be seers who have visions or dreams, or arbiters, who perform signs and relay God’s commands. And in rare instances, they perform various miraculous acts when the time called for it. Priests served as the moral compass, were often protectors, and could even be healers. Warriors were fighters, strategists, weapons smiths, and leaders in battle.

  Stephen tried to study, but found it difficult, thinking about the vision Joe had shared. Still, he bottled it up, knowing that what he felt couldn’t compare to what Vincent must be feeling. They had heard of scout teams coming and going. Ordinary operations continued as missions were assigned to Mighty in order to intervene and disrupt Fallen’s influences. A shooting and other attacks were reminders that Fallen were still heavily involved in provoking fear from the public. Even though Stephen wanted to talk with Vincent about it all, during the little free time they had over the next few days never seemed to be the right time.

  Later that week, Vincent failed to join the group for breakfast. Stephen checked the communication display and found Vincent had left the Enclave property. Stephen went looking for him. It wasn’t long before he found his friend above ground, in DC.

  Stephen breathed in the cool morning air as he stood looking across the reflecting pool—the Washington Monument rippling with the water as yellow, brown, and red leaves floated across. He had almost forgotten autumn had arrived up on the surface. With each exhale, a small fog steamed from his lips, like a dragon stoking its fire.

  Rain was in the air. He could smell it, that fresh scent preceding a cleansing downpour. He adjusted his toboggan cap and fastened his coat as he marched his way toward the Lincoln Memorial. As he walked up the steps, he saw a well-dressed man in a trench coat, Italian dress shoes, and a black fedora standing at the foot of Lincoln’s seat.

  Stephen approached and stood next to him.

  “Did you know that President Lincoln had issues with his father?” Vincent asked.

  “No, I didn’t,” Stephen said.

  “They did not see eye to eye on certain things. In fact, Abe didn’t go to his father’s funeral. From what I have read, his father was not a mean man, either. They just never seemed to connect. But I believe Abe regretted treating his father harshly at the end.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He named his fourth son, Thomas, after his late father.”

  “Vincent, I’m sorry.” Stephen felt Vincent struggling with feelings from his own past—strong, not hidden at all. “What do you need me to do?”

  Vincent turned to Stephen, looking him directly in the eyes. “Live!” Vincent placed his hands on Stephen’s shoulders. “I need you to live, no matter the cost.”

  Stephen tried to speak and was interrupted.

  “My father has had his chance. Yes, I would have liked to meet him.” Vincent turned away for a moment, taking a step toward the reflecting pool. “So much has changed now. I have changed, as have you. Then, there is this constant struggle we were born into—Mighty versus Fallen. Clearer than the reflection of the obelisk in the pool is your importance to this battle’s outcome, and the importance of your friendship to me. You must live.”

  “Okay.” Stephen walked up beside his friend. “How do you suggest I do that?”

  “Mother,” Vincent replied. “We need to go see her. She might have something that will help us find him. Before you healed Mother’s mind, I could never talk about Father with her. She only ever spouted nonsense. Now, she may have some information that would help.”

  “Mar—I mean Elizabeth? That’s a good idea,” Stephen said. He was still getting used to calling her Elizabeth, having known her as Marie for the past year. He enjoyed being around anyone who had known Waltz. And, a short time away from Enclave might help clear his head. “They gave us the weekend off before we start our practices. Let’s go. Patty had to bail on me this weekend. She continues studying harder and harder. She wants to be a historian for the Mighty. And I think she’s trying to impress Pastor Buchanan. It’ll be a guys’ weekend.”

  “Hey, mukkers!”

  Stephen looked out toward the pool to see Alistair waving. Stephen and Vincent waved back.

  “Do you think he saw a vision?” Vincent asked.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “If it was not a vision, I will have no problem telling him he is not invited.”

  Stephen nudged Vincent and grinned. “Be nice. You know he’s rubbing off on you.”

  “I would rather nothing rub off on me.”

  Stephen chuckled as Alistair bounded up the steps and joined in the conversation. “Hey, now. There’s nothing rubbing off on me.”

  “How did you hear us?” Stephen asked.

  Alistair tossed his head, flipping his blond hair from his face. “I didn’t. It was in my vision. It’s all right, Vin. I know you’re my friend.” He looked back and forth between the two for a moment. “So, where are we off to?”

  Vincent looked at Alistair and sighed. “Mother lives in Western Kentucky.”

  “Great,” Alistair exclaimed. “While you two still have training wheels, we’ll have to use a vanishing point and take a cab from there. I believe there is a secure point in Paducah, Kentucky, that should do the trick.”

  ****

  Vincent, Alistair, and Stephen walked up the back steps of Elizabeth’s estate. They’d nearly reached the top when the back door opened. Stephen looked up and saw Elizabeth standing there. She looked much different than the first time he had seen her coming down the steps to greet them. Her long black-and-white hair seemed to sparkle, the white streaks shimmering in the sunlight. She wore modest makeup and a beautiful, flowing, gold-colored dress. She looked more like the younger Elizabeth he bumped into when he was still a teen.

  Elizabeth hugged Vincent as he reached the top. “Hello, my son.”

  “Hello, Mother.” Vincent squeezed Elizabeth. Watching Vincent with his mom were the only times Stephen thought Vincent appeared comfortable.

  “Stephen, it’s good to see you again.” Elizabeth kissed his cheek. “And you must be Alistair. I’m pleased you could come.”

  “Thank you for having me,” Alistair replied with his usual Scottish charm.

  “Let’s go to the living room. The help, Philip and Anna, have gone to town. We have the privacy we need to talk freely.”

  Elizabeth led them into the living room. Though he had seen it before, Stephen again found himself in awe of the Victorian estate with its beautiful stone fireplace and grand wood trim. The deep reds from the cherry wood contrasted with the blues and greens from the stones. He had never seen anything like it.

  Elizabeth motioned to Stephen and Vincent. “I’m guessing you two have started your combat training.”

  Both nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, Vincent was a little cryptic when he told me you needed to speak with me.” She sat down in what looked to be a very expensive antique high-back chair. “So, what’s this about?”

  Alistair sat down at the farthest end of the couch. Vincent sat at the end next to his mother. Stephen stood next to the fireplace.

  Vincent, are you going to tell her? Or should I?

  Vincent glanced at Stephen, t
hen back to his mother. He took a deep breath. “There has been a vision of Father.”

  Elizabeth scooted to the edge of her seat, as her mouth gaping open. “Where? What was seen?”

  “We are not one hundred percent certain. But the vision made it seem as though he might be aware of Stephen.” Vincent cupped the back of his neck with his hand. “Do you have any idea where Father could be?”

  Elizabeth leaned forward, hiding her face in the palms of her hands. After a moment, she rose and began pacing the floor.

  “NO-O-O!” Her face turned red as she continued to scream.

  Stephen pushed his calmer emotions to Elizabeth. She stopped pacing, looked at Stephen, and smiled briefly. He sensed turmoil inside and felt hate emanating from her.

  “Thank you, Stephen,” she managed.

  Stephen nodded. “I know this must be hard for you, knowing he is still around and continuing to be a threat. As far as we know, there is no reason to believe that he has his sights on you.”

  Elizabeth approached Stephen. “What were the details of the vision?”

  “Joe saw me—”

  Before Stephen could go any further, Elizabeth burst out in tears, grabbing hold of Stephen. “Joe—Harbinger had a vision of you?” she sobbed. “He can’t take you. You have to run from Tony!”

  Stephen held her at arm’s length. She looked crazy again, like she had been last summer, before Stephen restored her mind.

  “We need your help to find him before he finds me,” Stephen pleaded.

  “No, no, no!” she cried. “I can’t. You have to stay away from him.”

  Alistair, who had sat quietly until this point, said, “Elizabeth, we need your help. It’s my job to protect Stephen. That’s why I’m here. I can’t do that if I can’t find Tony.”

  “Mother, anything at all would help.” Vincent walked to Elizabeth’s side. “You can trust Alistair. He is also a seer, and will be able to see Father coming.”

  Elizabeth turned away and appeared to be in thought. Abruptly, she hurried off to another room without explanation, leaving the three alone.

  “Vin, I see where you get your awkwardness from.” Alistair grinned.

  “As I understand it, I am awkward due to being the child of a Fallen. This means I get it from my father.”

  Stephen and Alistair laughed. Vincent, who seldom seemed to understand Alistair’s playful jabs, crossed his arms while appearing annoyed.

  Elizabeth hurried back into the room, holding a small wooden box. She placed it on the mantel and opened it. The three men waited, impatient to see what was inside. Finally, Vincent’s mom turned back around holding a card.

  Handing the card to Vincent, she explained, “Your father sent me this postcard not long after he left. It’s the last I heard from him.”

  Vincent read the card aloud. “Dearest Elizabeth. I’m sorry we can no longer be together. I know Vincent will be safe with you. Please tell him I love him. Until eternity comes, Anthony.” He looked at his mom, his eyes glittering with gathering tears. “Until eternity comes? He doesn’t sound evil.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Dear, he wasn’t always. I believe he held onto the love he had for you longer than anything else.”

  Vincent flipped the card over. “There is no return address.”

  “May I?” Alistair took the card from Vincent’s hand and held it up, displaying the picture of a tall, grass-covered mountain in the center of a larger city. “I know this,” he stated with exuberance. “This is Arthur’s Seat. The card came from Edinburgh.”

  Stephen and Vincent stared at him and shrugged.

  “Really, mukkers? It’s in Scotland.”

  Vincent turned to his mother. “Scotland? Why would he go to Scotland?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps he had contacts there.”

  “At any rate,” Stephen interjected, “we have a starting point.”

  “You mean I have a starting point,” Alistair exclaimed. “You two are going back to train. We need that now, more than ever.”

  Stephen knew it was no use arguing. Alistair was right. He and Vincent had only begun combat sessions and would soon start training in their gifts. Still, that didn’t stop Vincent from arguing with Alistair about it all the way back to the C. C. Cohen Building in Paducah, Kentucky. Once there, they went upstairs and, using Alistair’s amulet, the red mist swallowed the room and they vanished back to DC.

  Chapter 6

  Stephen sat looking at the family tree. Names had been engraved and scorched into the stone wall of his family’s trove with a heat so intense, the stone around the names looked to have been melted to a smoother surface. He went to his family’s trove because he found it hard to sleep, not knowing where Anthony was or how long he had to prepare. Something about the vision bothered Stephen. If Joe’s visions were never wrong, how could he be the key to the Mighty winning the next battle as the angel Areli said? Perhaps the war would come first. Regardless, one thing was certain. He needed to learn and grow as Mighty.

  Most of Stephen’s time already was dedicated to some type of study or training. So much so, that it all was blending together and becoming monotonous. It hadn’t taken long for him to grow tired of reading and studying. Combat training three times a week, however, helped relieve the physical symptoms of all the stress. Still, the physically demanding workout did little to provide a lasting peace or restful nights.

  As he stared at the family tree, he couldn’t help but wonder who all the names were. What were their lives like? What did they do for the Mighty? What kind of people were they? Stephen had learned in History of the Mighty that the original ancient lineage records were destroyed in the fire at Alexandria since the Mighty also housed a library underneath it. Therefore, all the family trees only went back so far, the oldest estimates 10 AD to 10 BC.

  He got up to look at various items in the trove, wondering who they might have belonged to. There were shields, spears, knives, and various types of unusual weapons. There were swords of all kinds: Roman swords, broadswords, rapiers, a katana, a templar’s sword, and a sword in the middle of the weapons that seemed to be a relic on display. Judging by the thicker layer of dust and rust that covered it, it had sat in the same place longer than most.

  Still, something about this particular sword called to him. Was it magical? It certainly appeared older and more worn than many of the others. It looked different too. The blade curved, similar to a sickle. The wooden handle had nicks in it, but looked smooth—likely from years of use. Stephen reached his hand to take hold of it. He half expected something mystical to happen. Nothing. He laughed. He set the blade down and continued walking deeper into the trove, wondering what treasure he might find.

  In the back, he found a personal library of sorts. He figured other than him, no one had been there in years. A nearby shelf sat empty, except for one book. The cover of the book was leather and worn. He flipped it open. Dust stirred, causing him to sneeze. Inside was a catalog. “Roman pugio given as a gift by Flavius to Simeon.” Stephen looked around, then back to the book. “What the heck is a pugio?”

  Stephen heard a familiar voice call his name over the comm. “Yes?” he replied.

  “I’m in The Hall of Bloodlines,” Colvin answered. “Is now a good time to talk?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  At the entrance, the door opened for him. Colvin stood right outside the door.

  “Stephen, I’d like to take some time to see how things are going for you and discuss your training.” Colvin motioned to the trove. “If you need to wrap up something first, I’ll wait.”

  “I’m good. What’s up?”

  “I’d like to talk someplace private, where we won’t be interrupted.”

  “We can talk in my trove. No one else can come in without me,” Stephen said with a smile. “Besides, maybe you can explain some things to me.”

  “Very well.” Colvin nodded.

  When they entered the trove, Colvin motioned toward the family tree.
“Do you mind?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Stephen watched as Colvin slowly followed the wall around the corner, looking at all the names, pausing occasionally. Stephen sensed that he recognized some of the names. Finally, Colvin stopped and Stephen felt distress inside the middle-aged man.

  “Are you okay?” Stephen said.

  Colvin’s head snapped around, as if he forgot Stephen had been watching.

  “Uh, it’s just that I forgot for a moment—you’re the last of your bloodline. I can’t imagine the burden you feel. Not only are you the key to winning this battle, but your entire bloodline’s future depends on you.”

  “I hope to one day change that,” Stephen said without much thought.

  “You do? So, are you and Patty that serious?”

  Stephen realized he and Patty hadn’t really discussed kids yet. “I’m not sure. Maybe we’re getting there.” Stephen pulled up a couple chairs and changed the subject. “What did you want discuss?”

  “Right!” Colvin’s attention turned back from the wall to Stephen. “I want you to be completely honest with me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have you been studying the material you were given?”

  “To be clear, you’re asking about the prophet and warrior books, right?”

  Colvin nodded.

  Stephen studied the material frequently. However, he wasn’t excited about it. His desire was to learn practical application. He wanted hands-on know-how—to understand his potential. “I have. But, as I’m being honest with you, I don’t see the point. There’s a lot of information in there. Some of which we already covered. The rest just seems like busy work. I know it probably has a use. I’m just not seeing it.”

  Colvin sat down next to Stephen. “I know it seems that way. And some of it is busy work. The council has been trying to decide on your training, who will train you.”

  “I’m worried that we don’t have that much time.” Stephen grew agitated. “If Joe’s vision is right, we don’t know how much time until Vincent’s dad returns. I need to train.”

  “I agree, which is why I have temporarily relinquished my position as Chief Arbiter in order to provide your prophet training. The council members also asked me to oversee all the training for you and Vincent. I’ve chosen your warrior trainer and Vincent’s vicar trainer.”