He turned and looked at Anastasia.
“Where are you going?”
He lifted his hand and pointed as he answered. “Sam was about to dismiss me. There are other things he wants to discuss.”
Sam gave him a disapproving look and crossed his arms, brows furrowed.
Stephen shrugged. “Sorry, Sam. You were ready to dismiss me as soon as the vision was over. The connection lingers a little sometimes.” Then, he left the council chambers, hearing a couple jeers directed at Sam followed by snickers as he closed the door.
****
As Pastor Buchanan performed the ceremony, he couldn’t help but see that the wedding was beautiful in its simplicity. Decorations were sparse, with white bows tied to the pews. The bridesmaids—Jess, Patty’s sister; Kaylin, Patty’s niece; Anastasia; and two trainers, Eva and Angeline—all wore simple but elegant light yellow silk dresses. Shannon wore a similar dress, but it was backless. The groomsmen wore tuxedos with matching yellow ties. Stephen wore the traditional Mighty dress garb he wore when he’d first proposed to Patty.
Patty had chosen a simple but elegant white dress, which shimmered as she walked. Her long, braided hair flickered like fire under the lights. As she walked with her mother, Stephen couldn’t take his eyes off her, smiling all the while. Her smile was soft. Her body quivered. She was nervous. As their eyes met, her smile brightened, and she walked with confidence.
Before long, the couple pledged their hearts and lives to each other. They completed the bonding ceremony, where their hands were wrapped together with a rope, as the rope glowed a golden hue. After the kiss, the couple walked back down the aisle as Mighty lining both sides of the aisle sprinkled water at the feet of the newly married couple, symbolic of Mighty’s continuing commitment to serve and support them as part of the family. None of the few uninitiated seemed to notice anything unusual. Afterward, the guests moved across the street to the reception, while the wedding party and family took pictures before joining the remaining festivities.
People looked happy, smiles and laughter filled the reception hall. Pastor Buchanan even found himself moving to a few songs on the dance floor. What he didn’t expect was to see Alistair and Jess dancing together. He couldn’t help but wonder if things would work out for them. Alistair could use a good woman in his life.
“Hey, preacher.”
The David’s entire body relaxed and jumped for joy on the inside at the sound of Stephen’s voice. He looked at the young man.
“I know, you were worried. I can sense it. I’m sorry. But I had to see Waltz. And there was a man there that needed my help. Nothing major. He just needed someone to talk to.”
Stephen reached into his cloak and pulled out a dark wooden box that had the emblem of the Mighty engraved into it. Other fine engravings adorned the corners and edges. In the engravings were various gems and stones. The emblem in the center had been overlaid with white, yellow, and rose gold leaf, with a jewel for the stone in the center of the shield.
“What’s this?” The David took the box and looked it over. “It’s gorgeous!”
“Open it!” the young man urged. Pastor David always liked to see Stephen smile. It was infectious somehow.
He opened the box, revealing a beautiful dagger whose blade seemed to catch and reflect every bit of light. He grabbed the handle, amazed at how comfortable it felt in his hand. In the hilt of the handle was engraved a shield, the symbol of the Mighty priesthood. It had been a long time since he had seen something this exquisite. The style and workmanship was from a much older time, and reminded him of something he was familiar with. Could it be?
Stephen broke the silence. “Patty helped me with some of my family research. It seems we have a custom in the family that goes back several generations. We give the officiating priest a gift that means something special to the family.
“The blade in your hand was used by Waltz. It was a favorite of his, according to his journals. Its origins go back before any records we have. So, it’s old.”
“It looks good as new,” the preacher said, turning the artifact over in his hands.
“Waltz took care of it. He liked that blade.”
“Thank you, Stephen.” The David wrapped his arms around him for a quick, but firm, hug. “This means a lot.” He looked out the door across the crowd. “Everyone appears to be enjoying themselves. You look happy, son.”
Stephen’s smile beamed brighter than the sun. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
****
As the party continued into twilight, Stephen and Patty made their rounds together and then separately. Family first, then close friends and friends. There were no strangers among them, no wedding crashers.
Stephen stepped outside for a moment, in part to let the moment sink in and reflect; but mostly to cool off in the evening air. In the distance, the light reflected off the Gateway Arch, which stood out against the backdrop of a darkening sky. It reminded him of Waltz’s monument, and how Waltz had been a light in a dark world. Now it was his turn. How could he ever be the light that Waltz had been? He heard Patty laugh inside the doors and glanced back to see his beautiful bride. It brought a smile to his face. I’ll need her help, Waltz.
“Stephen?”
He turned to see Officer Danny Nokes and Pastor Buchanan approaching from the other side. “Hey, Danny!” Stephen rushed to greet him. “I tried to find you earlier, but it’s been crazy.”
“It’s all right. I’m just glad you thought enough to invite me,” Danny replied.
“Well, I’m you came. You knew Waltz, and I felt like the more people here that knew him, the more it would seem like he was here, in a way.”
“What did you think about the bonding ceremony? Did you feel it?” Danny asked.
“The warmth in the chest, in the hea-r-t?” Stephen looked to Pastor Buchanan, then back to Danny. How did he know? Was he familiar with Mighty?
Pastor Buchanan put his arm around Stephen and escorted him around the corner, away from others. “We need you to come with us.”
Before Stephen could object or ask questions, the surroundings faded in a purple mist and were replaced with the Hall of Bloodlines. He looked around. Danny had come with them.
“It’ll make sense in a moment, Stephen. I need you to trust me and open your family’s trove.”
“What’s going on?” Stephen asked.
“Not here, Stephen,” Danny interjected. “Please, we don’t have much time before someone sees us.”
Stephen heard footsteps in the distance. He understood that something about Danny was a secret, but he didn’t have time to search Danny’s mind. “Blessed is the man.” The door directly in front of them opened, and the three hurried in. The door closed.
“Stephen, each family trove has a hidden chamber for the most special items. These items can be just about anything. Their value can be monetary, historical significance, a powerful relic, or mere sentimentality.”
“I’ve seen it. Your gift came from that chamber.”
“Please, we need to see the chamber,” Danny begged.
Stephen looked to Pastor Buchanan, who nodded in agreement.
He let them through the trove. The lights moved through the cavern with him, past the various items, furniture, books, armor, and jewels. Stephen had worked to clear out the dust and cobwebs in his free time. It helped him to clear his head. Walking with them, he realized there was much more to be done.
As they walked, Stephen tried to search their minds only to find that they were shielded, which he halfway expected. He watched them to see if either took note of anything else in the trove. They did not. Finally, they arrived. He had moved the wardrobe to a different location altogether. The large wooden archway was hard to miss. Stephen stepped in and the lights turned on. The other two followed.
“Strange,” Stephen said without thinking, taking note of a blue-white glow coming from the far end.
“You don’t know what it is?” the David asked.
“I haven’t seen it here before.”
Danny stepped forward and held out his hand. The light moved closer at an alarming pace before coming to a dead stop in front of him. Sitting in front of them was the piece of parchment from the Scroll of Awakening that Pastor Buchanan had torn off.
Danny walked forward and took the parchment in his hand and held it for the others to see. At the top of the parchment a new name had been written: Stephen Cross.
“But Alistair—” Stephen didn’t finish before being interrupted.
“I told you, didn’t I?” Danny asked the David.
“You did. But it’s not time yet,” the old man replied.
“No, this is different. Stephen will lead in a new path,” Danny said.
“What do you mean? What new path? How did you know where to find it?” Stephen ran his fingers through his longer wavy hair. “This doesn’t make sense.”
He turned and looked at Danny, staring him in the eyes. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“I am Oracle,” Danny replied. “It’s a long story that we don’t have time for. The important part is this . . . I saw who you would become, your importance to the Mighty, long ago. You are more important than anyone knows, even the David. Your father and Mr. Buchanan learned who you would become and had it wiped from their minds to protect you. That is why Waltz didn’t raise you with Layla, to protect you. Layla never knew.
“Ben, here, had the most important parts wiped from his mind, knowing only you would be important and in need of protection. No one else should know anything until the proper time.”
“Time for what?” Stephen demanded.
Pastor Buchanan held up the dagger that Stephen had given him. “There is a sword similar to this, isn’t there? Not the same, but similar in workmanship, age, and beauty—a sword like no other.”
“There is.” Stephen walked over to the sword and took hold of it. He knew how heavy it was, though it felt light in his hands. He carried it back to the men who waited. “It’s heavy. Be careful.”
“We wouldn’t dare,” Danny said.
“Why? I know warriors are stronger, but not so strong that you can’t lift it.”
The David knelt before the sword.
Stephen wasn’t sure what to think. “Wait a sec. Isn’t kneeling to a sword like idol worship?” Stephen asked.
Danny walked up to Stephen and placed a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not kneeling before the sword, Stephen. He’s kneeling before a king. Please, bow your head.”
The room seemed to spin around Stephen. There must be some mistake. A king? He never really felt worthy to be Mighty, let alone a king. He understood that the only worth in his life was God and the love that he had been given. It was by God’s grace and mercy that he was alive at all, let alone Mighty.
Not fully understanding, he did as commanded and bowed his head. He felt the oil flow over his head and drip off the ends of his hair. His body began to quake and shiver. Something happened that he couldn’t explain. He cried out in a language that he didn’t know, but he understood its meaning. “The Lord Almighty is One! Father, Son, and Spirit are One! All praise, and honor, and glory belong to Him!” Stephen felt the Spirit fill him. He had never felt more humbled or more powerful in his life.
With what sounded like the clap of thunder, he drove the sword into the stone floor and knelt before the Lord, as the sound of crackling stone faded. The David rose to his feet to stand at Stephen’s side, opposite of Danny. Each placed a hand on Stephen’s head and shoulders and prayed over him. When the two had finished, Stephen stood.
“I know what I have to do,” he declared.
“Stephen.” Pastor Buchanan stepped in front of him. “You are a prophet, warrior, and a priest. God has used you to see the unknown, to fight for those weaker than you, and to protect and watch over others, not to mention bring life back to Edge. I should announce you as the next David.”
“No!” Stephen insisted. “I know what I must do. Being David is not it.”
The David? Stephen barely knew who the Mighty were. He couldn’t lead them. As Stephen had been flooded with power, he heard a voice inside call to him: Find my lost sheep. It sounded so simple. Stephen knew his path. There was only one problem—well, two. Who were the sheep? And what would he do with them when he found them?
Pastor Buchanan looked at Danny, who nodded. “He’s right. There may be a time when Stephen will take up the responsibility of the David. Now, however, he has another path.”
Danny looked at Stephen. “That path can wait until after your honeymoon. For now, eat, drink, and be merry, for this is a gift from God. The next story in your journey will begin soon enough. Until then, do good and be generous with others, showing compassion on those less fortunate than you.”
Stephen wasn’t completely sure he understood. Danny had paraphrased Scripture from the Old and New Testaments. Still, something in the man’s voice seemed to suggest a different meaning or purpose than the obvious one, to enjoy the honeymoon and the company of friends.
“Then,” Pastor Buchanan said, “we will wait. Alistair will continue to learn from me. And we will pray that nothing happens to me until Stephen can be named as my successor.”
Stephen, at a loss for words, placed one hand on Danny’s shoulder and the other on Pastor Buchanan’s, and smiled, knowing the future was now a little brighter and more hopeful because of the people who believed in him.
Epilogue
Charles walked alone. Autumn was just around the corner, but the air seemed unusually cool, sending chills down his spine. He looked up at the stars. Ordinarily, he’d enjoy a walk like this. Tonight was different. The sounds of celebration still hung in the air. What did he have to celebrate? Effective today, he no longer held a place on the council. Sure, Alistair now held the position of successor to the David, but for how long? Once Ben Buchanan started looking healthy again, or named a different successor, his dream of restoring the family to royalty through his son would meet its end.
“Everything works together for the good of those that love the Lord,” he said to himself rather loud.
“Does it?” came the reply from across the street.
He looked over to see an aged man sitting on concrete steps, a run-down brick building for the backdrop. A lit cigarette in one hand, the other propped on his knee. The man looked ordinary enough, a jean jacket and tennis shoes. His silver hair picked up hints of light. The face was harder to make out, hidden mostly by shadows. Still, Charles saw the man was older, around his own age. He walked over to him.
“May I bum a fag?” Charles asked.
The man looked up at Charles. “Pardon?”
“Ah! Here, you call it a cigarette.”
“Oh! Sure.” The man pulled another from a pack in his pocket. “These things will kill you, ya’ know.”
Charles took the cigarette and held it in the flame of the man’s lighter. “Thank you,” Charles said, glancing at the man as he puffed away.
“Any time.” The man leaned back against the steps and appeared to look at the stars. “You think he really tries to work things out for us little guys? You know, like the good book says?”
Charles picked up on a bit of sarcasm in the man’s tone. In truth, he had questioned things a bit himself, even more so as of late. “That’s what I believe,” he forced out. Saying it was harder than he expected. “Well, it’s what I’m supposed to believe.” He felt relief saying that out loud, being honest for a change. When was the last time God worked something out for him and Alistair?
“I used to be like you.”
Charles looked at the man. The clothes weren’t fine. The man’s speech wasn’t proper. Nothing about him gave Charles the impression that the two of them would have been anything alike at any point and time. “Really?” he asked. “How so?”
“I was once concerned about what He thought.” The man motioned at the sky with his hand holding the cigarette. “My whole life seemed to revolve aro
und being a good servant. There were all these rules. Don’t do this! Do do that! Funny thing is, Christ wasn’t big on rules.”
Charles cocked an eyebrow at the man.
“Seriously, it’s in there. Look it up. Like most kids, he didn’t like his parent’s rules. He gave the religious people a hard time. Christ couldn’t stand their traditions.”
Charles interrupted. “I think you misunderstood—”
The stranger cut him off. “Did I? Even Paul argued that the Gentiles should be held to the same rules and standards as their Jewish counterparts.”
As Charles listened to the man, he realized that it made sense. Certain parts did seem contradictory.
“I don’t want to lose you here, but I think the man upstairs is a bit fluffed up. He has an ego problem.”
“Sir!” Charles snapped. “You go too far!”
“Do I?” The man rose, standing as tall as Charles. “Look at Saul and David. Saul was a good king. He did everything for his people. He didn’t wrong anyone. But because he offered a sacrifice, rather than waiting for Samuel the prophet, God tore the kingdom from him and gave it to David, a boy.”
Charles became indignant. “That’s enough, sir! David was a man after God’s heart.”
“Pft! A boy,” the man declared. “And what did David do? He took another man’s wife and had an affair. When she turned up pregnant, he had the man killed. He was too much of a coward to do it himself. Sure, King David was loved by the people—all of them except his own family. But he gave all the credit to God, didn’t he?”
The man sat and then leaned against the building. “God favors the strong, and works things to the good of . . . himself,” the man spat.
Everything the man said felt repugnant to Charles. He wanted to close his ears, to walk away. The more the man talked, the more sense it made, though. Charles wasn’t sure why his stomach churned. Was it because of the filth that the stranger spewed? Or was it because the man revealed in less than five minutes why Charles had played the fool for nearly three quarters of a century?
Charles sat down on the steps, at the feet of the stranger. “You make sense. I’ve grown tired of trying to always do the right thing. But who’s to say that what I’ve been doing is the right thing. Perhaps I should have been looking out for me. I should have taught my son to look out for himself.”
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